Retro Blogging: Thumbs up for France and Spain, Part Deux

28 April 2009

Within minutes of crossing back over to the right side of the road I could hear the faint noise of an engine behind me. I glanced over my left shoulder and saw a strange-looking vehicle puttering down the road. The front end resembled a nineteen-eighties pickup-truck, but larger. The back looked like some sort of camper, but featured no windows. The monstrosity pulled over a few metres in front of me, the passenger-side door swung open and two large dogs bounded out and started lunging towards me. A woman in her twenties descended next and called the dogs back, "Dundee! Karbon!" she shouted. Grabbing the dogs by the collar, she told me that her and her girlfriend were going to Bayonne. I smiled, "Moi aussi!"

She introduced herself as Sarah as she unlocked the padlock that held together the chain that kept the door to the camper closed. Inside I could see a makeshift bunk-bed, a separate area with a toilet and reggae music posters on the walls. The dogs were ushered into the back along with my rucksack and hockey stick, then Sarah and I hopped into the front where I met Wally. The two women lit up cigarettes as the vehicle started to roll forward. Sarah and Wally were really kind, really interesting women. Outcasted by their families, they saved up their money, put it all into buying the camper and decided to move to Bayonne and start over, together. They said it was the best decision they've ever made. I couldn't help but admire them.

As we drove along, a mountain range started to appear in the distance. I had made it all the way to the Pyrenees! Looking out at the beautiful countryside and the distinct style of the houses we were passing, we were obviously in Basque Country now (or Pays basque français).

We reached Bayonne and the ladies found a parking lot for their camper. We wished each other luck on our respective new adventures and I headed across the river towards the city centre in search of something to eat.

After satisfying my hunger I considered my next move. I thought about trying to find a cheap place to stay for the night but something inside me was urging me to press on- so, I did. I walked across Bayonne until I found the highway heading south. Positioning myself in a safe spot on a wide shoulder with an emergency telephone, I extended my thumb once again. Only a few minutes had passed when a green minivan with two kids in the back pulled-over onto the shoulder. I couldn't believe my luck as I grabbed my things and went over to speak to the driver. The woman behind the wheel asked me where I was going and I told her I was headed to Spain. My heart sank when she told me she thought I was just looking for a ride into town and they were getting off at the next exit for Bayonne. I thanked her for stopping anyway, then the van drove off and I was left standing in it's dust.

But it would only be about fifteen minutes later that a little, black, beat-up, two-door would pull over and the young, male driver would pose me the same question. This time I decided to keep my destination within France so I answered that I was aiming for Saint-Jean-De-Luz. Again, I was shot with disappointment when he started to tell me that that was farther than he was going. After a moment's hesitation he said he could get me almost all the way to Saint-Jean-De-Luz but he would have to go through a toll that he would otherwise avoid. As long as I would pay the toll it was no problem. He had himself a deal and I jumped into the car. My new driver, Sam, hit the gas hard and we flew down the highway at illegal speeds. About 15km later, which only took a few minutes, the way Sam drove, we were at the toll booth and I dug through my pockets for the €1.60. Sam tossed the two-Euro coin I had given him into the basket and the automatic-gate went up. We pulled into a little parking lot on the right-hand side, Sam pointed out which way I should continue to get to Saint-Jean-De-Luz, we shook hands and then he squealed the tires and was off.

I started walking and before long I reached a beautiful, little village nestled in the hills. I stopped several times to take photos of the countryside, a handball court, a cemetery and a surf shop.

Yes, a surf shop! I knew I was close to the ocean so I had to find it. When I did, I ran across the sand like a four-year-old on his first trip to the beach.

Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to waste. I was losing daylight, and the clouds were coming in too, so I returned to the road and carried on towards Saint-Jean-De-Luz. Each time a car passed I held out my thumb but I wasn't really expecting to be picked up in the middle of a town. The sky was turning a darker shade of grey and soon, little drops of water were beading down my bright red poncho. I started to second-guess my decision to continue beyond Bayonne, but I knew I wouldn't be able to find a place to stay in the little commune I was in, so there was nothing I could do now but soldier on. Fortunately, the driver of a silver Volkswagon took pity on me and offered me a ride. Her name was Alene and she was absolutely gorgeous. Probably about twenty-three or twenty-four years old, she had shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair, light-blue eyes and a very warm smile. After hitch-hiking all day, I was a mess and a little self-conscious to be in a car with such a beautiful girl but Alene was very sweet and it didn't take long to feel comfortable with her. She was heading in to Saint-Jean-De-Luz for a night of Nintendo Wii with her friends. She poked fun at herself for being a bit of a dork, but that sounded pretty cool to me.

I asked Alene if she could drop me off near the A63- the highway that would lead me to Spain. She was a little concerned that I wanted to continue on in this weather, but I was less than 20km from the border now and I was determined to make it, so I assured her that I would be fine. She dropped me off right at the autoroute and wished me "bon courage."

As I walked down the curving ramp and onto the A63 the sun was also descending- and much faster than I. It was raining and it was getting dark but this time I wasn't questioning my decision at all. In fact, I was smiling. This was the adversity I had been looking for. I was going to make it to Spain in one day, even if I had to walk the last 20km in the pouring rain.

And the rain did pour. It got heavier and heavier to the point where I had to take refuge beneath an overpass. I thought I could wait until the storm subsided, but after half an hour it didn't seem to be letting up at all. It was after 10pm now and completely dark out. It occurred to me that if I didn't get back to making progress I might have to sleep under that overpass, so I tightened the strings on the hood of my poncho and forged ahead once more. The next sign I passed read, HENDAYE 15 [km]. It was encouraging, but only slightly. Out of nowhere, flashing lights appeared behind me and a man started shouting. I turned back and saw a pair of blinding headlights and the silhouette of a man standing between the vehicle and me. It was the cops and the officer was shouting at me to come back. I had but one thought...

"Shit."

(Coming soon, the third and final instalment of my hitch-hiking odyssey.)

Retro Blogging: Thumbs up for France and Spain Pt. I

28 April 2009

I walked down the ramp and onto the autoroute, filled with the joy of uncertainty. I didn't really know where I was, I didn't know how long I would have to walk before being picked up... it was all terribly exciting.

I tramped along the shoulder with my left-arm extended straight out and my thumb pointed towards the sky. Dozens of Citröens, Peugeots and Renaults zoomed by me on the French highway. Every now and then one would honk at me as it passed. Whether it was in support or more of a "get the hell off the autoroute!" I couldn't tell. I walked for ages with all of my earthly possessions strapped to my back and started to wonder if I would have to walk all the way to Madrid. But just then, I noticed a holy temple off in the distance...

...and although I'm not a religious person I thought that at this particular time I could really use some divine intervention. Clasping my hockey stick in both hands, I raised it above my head and prayed to the gods of "le skating" to send someone who would pick me up. Within moments, rain started to fall from the sky. Was this an acknowledgment from the hockey gods? Was this just more shit luck? I believe it was the former because only minutes later a small commercial van with carpentry decals on the side pulled over onto the gravel just ahead of me. I caught up to the vehicle just as a short, burly man wearing stained overalls with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth was cautiously getting out of the driver's seat. He came around to the safer, right side of the van and in English, asked me if I could speak French. "Oui, un peu," I responded. In a raspy voice he proceeded to tell me that it was way too dangerous to be walking along the autoroute, especially in this weather. He opened the sliding-panel door to the back of the van and helped me load my rucksack and hockey stick in with a collection of tools and paint cans. He got back in the driver's seat and I hopped into shotgun. After we both buckled our seat-belts, I held out my hand over the centre console, "Jozef," I said. He grasped my hand and did one of those handshakes where you only squeeze and don't shake, "Jean-Marc."

Jean-Marc explained to me that nobody (except him, I guess) is going to pull over in the middle of the highway to pick me up; it's too dangerous. He told me that I would have a better chance at a busy rest-stop and that's where he said he could take me. A few kilometres down the road he pulled in to a tourist information centre and wished me luck. I thanked him sincerely for the advice and putting me in a better situation. With my bright red poncho on I found a place to stand near a sign for Bayonne that every car leaving would have to pass.

After about twenty minutes a man in a small two-door hatchback slowed down in front of me and waved me in. Bertrand was on his way home after a weekend in Bordeaux. Incredibly, he was able to take me from just outside Bordeaux all the way to Saint-Vincent-de-Tyrosse; a distance of about 150km. Along the way we shared great conversation, sometimes bouncing back and forth between English and French. Bertrand is probably the nicest guy I met during the entire journey. Before I got out of the car in S.V.-de-T. he gave me his phone number and told me that if I couldn't find a ride to give him a call and I could crash on his couch for the night. It was a great offer and I felt really lucky to have been picked up by Bertrand but I had my sights set on Spain, so, I decided to press on.

I was now off of the major highways and walking down the D 810 (much safer ground). For a while I saw no other evidence of life... no people, no cars, no houses. There was a sign indicating that it was 18km to Bayonne and I started to calculate in my head how long it might take me to walk there. Eventually, the first sign of civilization did appear...

I was intrigued.

Yes, by the inviting pose of the cartoon legs wearing fishnet stalkings and garter belts, but more so by the words found in parentheses; NON CONFORMISTE- words I use to describe myself. What goes on inside a private, French, non-conformist club with no windows in the middle of nowhere??? Curiosity was killing my cat, so I easily convinced myself that I had earned a refreshing beer. Unfortunately, when I reached the entrance it was not only locked but heavily fortified. It appeared as though 'Le Liberty's' had been out of operation for quite some time. Looks like 'the man' had won again.

I crossed back over to the right-shoulder of the road and put one foot in front of the other. Still, not a car in sight. It was late-afternoon and within a few hours the sun would be setting. Perhaps, I should have taken Bertrand up on his offer after-all.

(Stay tuned for Part II of this exciting journey- Featuring lesbians, gendarmes, roasted peanuts and more! Plus, find out if I ever do indeed make it to Spain.)

Retro Blogging: Beyond Bourges

27 April 2009 - 28 April 2009

Le Printemps de Bourges music festival had come to and end and it was time for me to set my sights on Madrid, Spain. I had been accepted as a volunteer with Pueblo Inglés- a wonderful program that offers native English speakers an all-expenses-paid week in a beautiful little Spanish village in exchange for... speaking English (more on this later).

I was having such an incredible time in Bourges with Cécile and friends that I stayed a few days longer than I originally intended. This meant I had significantly reduced the amount of time I was giving myself to get all the way down to Madrid and the only form of transportation I had prepared was my thumb. On the morning of my departure from Bourges I packed up my rucksack, grabbed my hockey stick and left the house with Cécile and Alex. They were going to drive me over to the autoroute to help me get started. But instead of arriving at an on-ramp for the E09 we pulled into the parking lot of the Gare de Bourges (train station). Cécile presented me with a train ticket and told me that everyone had pulled together their money, some even juggled on the street for tips, and they were able to raise enough cash to get me from Bourges to Bordeaux to make up for lost time.

I was stunned.

Speechless.

Overcome with emotion.

Truly grateful.

And truly humbled.

These people had welcomed me, a complete stranger from a foreign land, into their group without a moment's hesitation and treated me like a member of the family for the whole week. To top it all off with such a generous and selfless act of kindness brought a tear to my eye. Cécile, Malika, Quentin, Adrien, Aurélie, Yannick, Laure and Alex represent the best of humanity. I feel so honoured to have had the opportunity to spend a week with them. I will never forget them. And I truly hope we cross paths again one day. They are the reason I travel. They are the reason I love this world.

I boarded the train to Bordeaux and watched the beauty of the French countryside whiz by as the train headed south-west. On board, I met a young, Vietnamese girl with a French accent and a Czech name. A unique combination- Lenka's parents are from Vietnam but they were living in the Czech Republic at the time of her birth. She has been living in Bordeaux for years and offered to show me around the city a little. When we arrived in Bordeaux we exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up later that day, but first, I had to find a place to sleep that night.

I walked outside of the train station and found the tram stop that Lenka recommended I take to the city centre. I stood in front of the electronic ticket kiosk and tried to use my elementary school French skills to figure out which of the twenty different ticket options was right for me. Before I was forced to make my best guess, a 30-something couple came up to me and the woman started speaking with an Irish accent. "Excuse me?" she said. "Do you need a ticket for the tram?" They explained to me that they were on their way out of the city but they had four unused tram tickets left. I offered to pay for them but they insisted I just take them and they wished me a good time in Bordeaux. Well, it was certainly off to a great start!

When I reached the city centre I found an internet café and put in an emergency surfing request on couchsurfing.com. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief when a girl named Adeline said she could put me up for the night. She gave me her address, then I went to meet Lenka at the turtle statue in Place de la Victoire. While I was waiting in the square, I grabbed the yellow road-hockey ball out of my pack and started doing a little stick-handling. Moments later a tiny, little girl of about five years old came over to me, pointed at my hockey stick and said in her tiny, little voice, "Qu'est-ce que c'est?" I told her it was my 'bâton d'hockey' and started to explain the greatest game on ice to her. It didn't take long to realize she didn't give a flying baguette about the rules and regulations of hockey- she just wanted to play. So, I handed the stick over and let her try to keep the ball away from me. Her stick-handling wasn't bad, considering that it was her first time and the stick was about twice her height. Then it was my turn to keep the ball away from her. She giggled uncontrollably as I weaved the ball through my legs and around her. Soon we were both laughing and I thought about how cool it was that travelling with a hockey stick had created this spontaneous, memorable moment.

Lenka arrived with a friend and we headed for Adeline's so I could drop of my things. Then, the four of us went out for some Thai food. After getting to know each other a little over some jasmine rice and khao rad gang, Lenka and her friend retired for the evening and Adeline gave me a wonderful walking-tour of the city at night. We reached the Garonne river and stopped to admire the beauty of the lights shining around the Pont-de-Pierre and the Place de la Bourse.

The following morning I bid farewell to Adeline and met Lenka for breakfast. She showed me a few more of the sights and I purchased a compact sleeping bag for the road ahead. For a long time I had fantasized about hitch-hiking through Europe. Finally, the first test had arrived. I parted with Lenka and started walking down the Cours de la Somme. My target was the A63 South. I walked through the city for almost an hour, carrying about 25kg on my back and front. It was cold and it was raining but I was smiling. When I left Canada I dreamed of the adventures I would have and the challenges I would have to overcome, but the truth was, in nearly eight months abroad I hadn't really been faced with any adversity. For the first time, I was giving myself a physical and emotional challenge, and I was excited!

I didn't want to start my hitch-hiking adventure with a time-costly error, so I decided to stop at a gas station and make sure I was going in the direction of the autoroute. A kind looking, older man was coming out of the shop so I approached him with my best French accent. He told me I was only a couple of kilometres from the autoroute and asked if I wanted a lift. Incredible! I found my first ride without even sticking out my thumb. The man told me he and his wife were travellers too, as he escorted me over to his RV! His wife was waiting in the passenger seat of the vehicle. After an introduction from me and an explanation from her husband she seemed happy to have me on board. I climbed into the back of the RV and sat in the little kitchenette as we pulled out of the station. The couple explained to me that they bought the RV when they retired and had been enjoying trips around Europe ever since. They would have been pleased to take me further than the on-ramp but I was heading south and they were heading north. When we pulled over a few minutes later I thanked them very much for their kindness, told them to have a great trip and they wished me the same. I stepped down from the vehicle, waved goodbye and took my first steps down the ramp to the Autoroute-63.

I Kissed a Girl... and it was Katy Perry... and I liked it!

You never know how the night is going to turn out...

I met some friends at the Mash Tun tonight- a local pub that is only a block from my place. We had a few drinks there and then decided to move on to another watering hole. As we walked down New Street I noticed that a large group of people had gathered around a barrier that had been set up. I went over to one of the girls that was patiently waiting and I asked what was going on. She told me that they were all waiting for Katy Perry. The woman famous for a song about a bi-curious experience had played the Brighton Dome this evening and a large group of her fans were hoping for a glimpse.

I have a bit of a crush on Katy Perry. And the only thing holding these people back was a waist-high pole, similar to one you would find holding cars back at a parking garage. So, I ducked under it and headed towards the tour bus. I greeted the man standing outside the bus and said I was here to see Katy. He told me that she was definitely coming out at some point but he didn't know when... so, I looked over at the arena and saw an open door guarded by only one man. I walked over and decided to just walk right past him. On my way in I casually said to him, "I'm just here to see Katy." He asked me who I was, so I replied, "I'm Jozef Perry." He said, "Oh, okay," and let me pass. I thought to myself, "Wow, that was easy!" I started walking into the arena and then I heard the man from the door call out to me. I thought, "Well... I knew that was too easy..."

I walked back over to him, expecting to be kicked out of the area but to my astonishment he just informed me that Katy wasn't going to be exiting here, she was going to come from an exit down the alley. I thanked him, and started walking in that direction. He was absolutely right because a second later I saw Katy Perry approaching me with two paparazzi capturing every step. She looked incredibly beautiful. We came face to face and I said, "Hey Katy, great show tonight!" She hugged me and thanked me and then noticed the hoard of people that had crossed the barrier and were coming her way. She turned to the people that worked for her and said that she didn't want all of those people surrounding her. They took immediate action and started blocking off access to Katy. Thankfully, they didn't realize that I was the first to cross the barrier and the inspiration for the other hundred people to charge forward.

I decided to take advantage of this, so I said, "Look, it's about to get crazy here and I don't really want to be part of that, so I just wanted to say that it was a great show and it was nice to meet you."

She thanked me very much and picked up on my accent and said, "Oh my god, you're from America too?" I corrected her and said, "No, I'm from Canada, actually." She asked me what I was doing in Brighton, so I told her I was working for an English school and when I found out she was performing here I just had to see it. She threw her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. I kissed her back and then she thanked me again and asked me for my name. I answered her and then noticed the crowd getting closer, so I said, "I'm going to go before this gets insane... it was really nice meeting you."

I went back over to my friends, who were standing there in disbelief.

"I can't believe you just pulled that off," James said. "I don't even want to talk about it. You just met and hugged and kissed Katy Perry and caused a riot around her."

I'd say it was a good night.

Words of encouragement

I haven't been feeling very good about myself lately. I think everybody gets like that from time to time. But, I received an e-mail today from a beautiful woman I met in Spain and she had this to say:

"Girls of the world, be careful with Jozef because he has the mixture of the best dangerous qualities necessary for women to fall in love; clever, funny, good looking, sweet and quite naughty."

Ha ha! Thank you, Encarnita! I needed that.

Wake Up Every Day With A Dream

I woke up in Paris. That is a great feeling, in and of itself... but I was waking up to go and meet Ben Harper in Bourges... that is just bananas!

Julie and I got up and went to the world famous Arc de Triumph. It was there that we met up with Laurent- a really great guy from Paris and a huge Ben Harper fan. He also had tickets to see Relentless7 at Le Printemps de Bourges music festival so the three of us arranged to road-trip it together. We jumped into his Ford two-door and hit the road, passing right below the Tour d'Eiffel on our way out of town. Such a beautiful sight.

The three hour drive from Paris to Bourges was basically a three hour Ben Harper sing-along. We belted out tunes spanning his whole career; from Welcome to the Cruel World all the way to the yet to be released Relentless7 debut, White Lies for Dark Times. Our enthusiasm was unmatched... our harmonizing was unbearable.

We arrived in Bourges and located Cécile- my CouchSurfing hostess. After dropping off my things at her place we parked the car and Cécile took us on a little walking tour of Bourges. It was the first day of the annual festival and Bourges was slowly evolving from a quiet, provincial town into a massive street party. Gig posters were plastered everywhere, venues were being set-up, people were drinking in the streets and there were dreadlocks as far as the eye could see.

R7 was playing at Le Phénix- a 6,000 person capacity tent set up in the middle of a huge parking lot. When we arrived there, Julie and I had to part with Laurent, Cécile, and her friend Aurélie to go pick up our backstage passes. We slapped the adhesive patches onto our clothes, entered the monstrous tent and found our way to the backstage area.

Just as Ben had promised, this was WAY better than Paris! We were right back in the dressing room area in the middle of all the action. The first person we saw that we recognized was bassist Jesse Ingalls. He was sitting out on the patio with Sam, one of the road technicians. They told us to pull up a couple of chairs and to help ourselves to the buffet of food and the two refrigerators fully stocked with Kronenbourg 1664. Naturally, I grabbed a beer and then sat down and shot the shit with the guys for a while. Piers Faccini was the supporting act again, so when he took the stage we wished Jesse a good show and went back to the stage area to listen. Again, Ben was there too, enjoying every note. And this time, when the capacity crowd demanded an encore they got it! Piers returned to the stage and left everyone in awe as he sang acapella. His voice is absolutely haunting. I got chills.

Then, it was time for Relentless7 to rock the fuckin' house! Just as they had the last couple of nights, they played all 11 tracks off of the debut album as well as a couple of retooled Ben Harper classics- a harder sounding "Better Way" and a dark and melancholic "Another Lonely Day"- as well as their cover of "Under Pressure". The only thing that had been missing from the past couple of nights was "Serve Your Soul"; the very first song these guys collaborated on for Ben's 2006 release Both Sides of the Gun... the song that started it all. When I was talking to Jason after the Paris show I mentioned that fact to him and asked if they might break it out in Bourges. He had a sly look in his eye when he said, "We'll see." Sure enough, they closed the night with an epic, 15 minute rendition of "Serve Your Soul"!!!

After the gig, Julie and I went back to the dressing room area. The band was in a private room, presumably changing out of their sweaty clothes and winding down a little. We grabbed a couple of drinks and took a seat in two director's chairs. For a moment we just sat there and took it all in. A look of pure satisfaction was on both of our faces. Smiles from ear to ear.

Ben was the first to emerge from the private room. His eyes scanned the communal area and the instant he saw Julie and I sitting there he grabbed another director's chair and pulled it up right in between us. He ran his hands over his face, let out a DEEP exhale and then sat there for a moment with the same satisfied look that we had. It was amazing to see him like that. We waited for Ben to make the first move and finally he asked us in a very mellow, serene tone, "How was your night?" I told him that it was one of the greatest nights of my life. That there were no words to describe how I was feeling. That I will remember those three days for the rest of my life and I couldn't thank him enough. We got to talking about what the new band means to him at this point in his life and career and he talked about it like it was a rebirth. He's overflowing with energy and passion and he's loving every single minute of it.

Then Ben started asking me questions about myself and my life. And he was really listening to my answers. Ben Harper was taking a serious interest in my life- how cool is that? I told him about the traveling I've been doing and how I'm trying to shape my lifestyle and personal philosophy. Then I asked him for a very special, personal favour:

I explained that over the years his lyrics have been there to help me through the tough times and celebrate the good times. No matter how I'm feeling or what I'm going through, good or bad, there always seems to be a perfect Ben Harper song for the moment. And during this time in my life there are two particular lines that I find inspiration in every single day. I asked if he could maybe write one of them down for me and being the incredibly caring and gracious guy that he is, he said he'd be happy to write them both down.

"Wake up every day with a dream."

"The only one you've got to serve... is your soul."

Before Ben got up to go mingle with some of the other people in the room, he stunned me one more time by asking, "So, when are we going to see you next?" I didn't know what to say! Then I remembered that Relentless7 was going to be back in London in June to co-headline a massive concert with Neil Young.

"Ummm...? You guys are back in London this summer for Hard Rock Calling. Hopefully, then?"

"You'll be in London this summer?" Ben said, "Cool, that's perfect! You gotta come hang out again."

Then he told me how to get in touch with him and his manager before Hard Rock Calling so that I'd be able to go backstage and chill with the guys again. Is he an unbelievable guy or what?!

I got to spend a little more time chatting with Jason, Jesse and Jordan before they had to get going. The boys were jumping on a jet to Rome to play a free Earth Day concert for over 100,000 people at the Piazza del Popolo the next day. As a final gesture, they all signed a copy of the night's set-list for me and Ben wrote, "Jozef- Thank you for you!" As I was saying goodbye to Jason and Jesse I thanked them for everything and said I would hopefully see them in the summer at HRC. They thanked me for all the support, said it was great hanging out and that we should exchange information so that we can keep in touch. These guys are quickly ascending to rock-stardom so it's really cool to see that they are keeping both feet on the ground. They're just really cool, really humble guys that love to play music.

When you meet someone famous that you really admire you hope they turn out to be nice and down to earth, but I never could have expected this. Ben has always been an absolute legend to me and now that I've had the chance to get to know him, even just a little, he's even more of a legend. I'm going to remember those three days for the rest of my life. It was like a dream come true and even more inspiration to...

Wake up every day with a dream.......

Ben Harper and Relentless7: Live