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

Shimmer and Shine: Backstage with R7 in Paris

I tried to sleep. Really, I gave it a good effort, but my excitement was just too much to be contained by the dimensions of a single bed. I gave up, got up, had a shower and finished packing my bag. Julie was awake at this point and we pinched each other just to make sure that this wasn't a dream. Then I picked up my rucksack, grabbed my hockey stick and headed for Victoria Coach Station (Julie was taking a later, speedier train to Paris).

I managed to get some sleep aboard the 8-hour bus ride and before I knew it I was in Paris! Julie met me at the coach station and we took the metro over to the hotel. We had just enough time to drop off our things and get a little cleaned up then it was time to head to the venue for concert #2. It was an absolutely beautiful day, so rather than spend 10 minutes on the underground, we opted for the 45-minute walk to La Cigale and enjoyed the streets of Paris. It was everything I had hoped for; beautiful, full of life and full of French people!

When we reached La Cigale there was already a couple hundred people waiting in line. I dusted off my old French-speaking skills and told the head security guard that we had tickets and backstage passes waiting for us. He took our names and ducked inside for a minute then returned and told us that we were on Ben's guest list. I could hardly believe this was all really happening. We got to enter the building before the hundreds of fans that had been waiting for so long. I've never felt so VIP in my life.

We walked through the historic theatre and reached the backstage door. An enormous man greeted us with his right arm fully extended in our direction. A quick flash of our R7 VIP passes and he immediately lowered his arm and raised the corners of his mouth to a smile. He stepped aside and opened the door for us- we were in! Our only instruction was that we couldn't go all the way back to the dressing room area because the theatre was too small. So, we went through a set of doors and onto the side of the stage, just out of view of the audience, to watch Piers Faccini open up the show.

A few minutes later, the stage door opened slightly and I was stunned to see Ben Harper sneak in quietly. He saw me right away, shook my hand and said it was good to see me again and he was glad I made it. Then we stood there, rocking out to Piers Faccini together. I saw Piers open for Ben back in 2007 in Toronto. He's a gifted musician with a unique and haunting voice. Ben is a big fan and once said that Piers pays attention to lyrical detail like very few people that will ever come along and write a song. The Paris crowd definitely agreed and gave Piers a huge ovation when his set was over. Piers left the stage and joined us at the side but the crowd didn't give up- they wanted more.

Ben told Piers he had to go back out but opening acts don't usually get encores so the roadies had already started tearing things down to stay on schedule. Piers thanked Ben for his support but said it was okay. The crowd continued to chant and Ben tried to convince Piers that the stage was his. I suggested Piers go out and do my favourite song of his, "Each Wave That Breaks," and Ben backed me up emphatically. But by now it was too late and most of the equipment had been removed from the stage. Ben was totally disappointed and said, "That ain't right, man." It was so cool to see what a true fan of music Ben is. He didn't care that it would have cut into his own set. Piers deserved an encore and Ben wanted him to have it.

Once everything was reset Relentless7 took to the stage and rocked La Cigale to it's knees. Julie and I watched from the side of the stage again. It was a total dream. There I was, watching my favourite musician of all-time... in concert... from backstage... in Paris.

After the show the band came out to chat with us. I was having a really good talk with guitarist Jason Mozersky when someone came by and told him they had to go mingle in a private room. I thanked Jason for everything and told him we'd see him the next night, but he said, "You guys should come next door and hang out". So we did! Jason took us over to the private room complete with a buffet of fancy-looking French food and an open bar. I enjoyed a glass of red wine with bassist Jesse Ingalls and had a couple of good conversations with Jason, Jesse and Ben. Ben asked us if we had a good time and I basically told him it was one of the greatest nights of my life. His response was, "Tonight was nothing. I'm really sorry you guys couldn't come back to the dressing rooms, but there just isn't any space back there. Tomorrow night in Bourges will be better. It's a big venue, lots of room. You guys will get to come back and hang out with us. Tomorrow is the party."

I didn't think it could get any better than this, but apparently it was about to.

Relentless Night

It's Sunday night. April 19^th, 2009. I'm in Kentish Town, London, England. Julie, Isabelle and I arrive early at The Forum because it's open standing room tonight and I want to be one of the first people through those doors. We're here to see my new favourite band, Relentless7. Also known as, Ben Harper and Relentless7.

Ben Harper is my all-time favourite musician. He's an amazing guitar player, a brilliant singer, a prophetic and inspiring lyricist and he has more passion and soul than anyone you've ever seen on stage. I saw him for the first time in September of 2007 at historic Massey Hall in Toronto. He was touring with his long-time band, The Innocent Criminals in support of their latest album, Lifeline. I sat in the fourth row, centre-stage and was taken to new emotional levels that night.

In late 2008, Ben put things on hold with the ICs and reunited with three musicians from Texas he had worked with on his 2006 album, Both Sides of the Gun; Jason Mozersky, Jesse Ingalls and Jordan Richardson. Ben is often considered to be a very laid back musician who makes “chill out” music and indeed, many of his most popular songs do have a mellow vibe but anyone that has enjoyed his whole catalogue knows that Ben Harper is an eclectic musician who's music transcends genres. Working and creating with the Texan trio has produced a Ben Harper album that is heavily rooted in rock and blues- something that has been long-awaited by many fans, including myself.

As planned, I'm one of the first people in and I grab a spot right up against the stage, front and centre. I'm on my own because Julie and Isabelle's tickets are for upstairs, but I quickly make nice with the other fans around me. The moment Ben and the boys take the stage the sold-out crowd loses it's collective mind. We are ready to rock. So ready. And as the band attacks the first chords of the opening number, “Better Way”, it's clear that we're not the only ones. This is in-your-face rock and roll.

After a ten-song set and a three-song encore Relentless7 take their final bows. I'm so fired-up! That show kicked some serious ass. Julie, Isabelle and I meet up and share our uncontrollable excitement. The crowd begins to file out of the building and most people start heading home, but not us. I'm determined to meet Ben Harper tonight so we go around the building and wait by the side door. Some other fans have the same idea and in total there are twelve of us hoping to meet the man. After waiting for more than two hours (the band had a couple of obligations after the show) the door opens and Ben Harper steps through.

Finally, after being such a huge fan of the man and the music for so long, I get to meet Ben Harper. I wondered if I'd be nervous, but I wasn't at all. There's just something about his vibe. He's so calming and gracious. Ben is honestly blown away that we have waited so long just to see him. After taking the time to personally meet everyone and thank us so genuinely for being the fans that we are, we take a group photo and Ben starts signing a few things. I managed to obtain a copy of the setlist from one of the roadies and as Ben throws his signature down on it I tell him that I'm going to be in Paris the next night (although I couldn't get a ticket for the show) and Bourges the night after that (for which I did have a ticket). Ben's eyes open wide and he says, “No way! Are you serious? Man, that's unbelievable!” He says if I'm going to be going on tour with them I need to be backstage. Now, this is unbelievable! Ben calls his manager over and tells him to write my and Julie's names down and we'll have tickets and backstage passes for Paris and Bourges.

HOLY SHIT! I just about lose my mind! I can't believe this just happened. Ben has to go and the twelve of us celebrate in the streets. This has been an incredible night but the next couple of days are going to be absolutely insane. I get back home, pack my bag and try to get a few hours of shuteye before I need to be at the coach station, but I know there's no way I'm going to be able to sleep tonight.

Road Mojo

My life has been in turmoil for the past month.

"Turmoil" sounds so negative. And yeah, sure, there have been some tough times over the last 30 days- emotionally (won't go there), financially (lost my job in London and had to move out of my flat because I couldn't make rent)- but there has also been a lot of positivity. I've made a few spontaneous decisions and I've had a LOT of time to think about some others. On the spontaneous side of life, I sold my newly acquired bicycle and donated 2/3 of my stuff to charity. There was a brief emotional struggle when it came to a couple of articles of clothing that had sentimental value, but I convinced myself that the memories are all I need.

I then purchased a 70L backpack and threw what remained of my belongings inside. I can now carry everything I own on my back. I love it!!! It's an incredible feeling, very liberating and a step in the right direction for me. When I left Canada eight months with vagabonding dreams my motto was "Live simply so that others may simply live" and I feel like I'm finally progressing toward that goal. So, with my backpack on, I left London, England only 44 days after moving there. I originally thought I would be living in London until the fall, but as John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

My first stop was Brighton, England. I reunited with my good friend Will (from the Disney days) and started working with him at EF Language Travel. For two weeks I was the Activity Coordinator for a group of thirty students from Austria. It was a pretty sweet gig. Basically, I got paid to go bowling and play football with a bunch of really cool kids and help them with their English. When it was all over, I collected my much-needed paycheque and threw the backpack on once more.

I'm going to return to Brighton in June and work for EF over the summer, but for now I'm going to hit the road. I have some big plans for the next five weeks. Stay tuned :)

The best things in life are free

I live in London, England- a city of millions. But sometimes, even when surrounded by dozens of people, this city can make you feel kind of alone. This is a major problem in major cities. Everyone is in a hurry, people have become cynical and skeptical, everyone keeps their head down, the iPodders are tuned in and turned off to the rest of the world. There is a complete disconnect.

But! there are lots of incredible people out there that are trying to make the world a closer place and thousands of them can be found on www.couchsurfing.com. I joined the CouchSurfing community last fall and I've already met lots of incredible people and surfed a couple of couches. But, as it says in the mission statement, "CouchSurfing isn't about the furniture- it's not just about finding free accommodations around the world- it's about participating in creating a better world. We strive to make a better world by opening our homes, our hearts and our lives. We open our minds and welcome the knowledge that cultural exchange makes available. We create deep and meaningful connections that cross oceans, continents and cultures. CouchSurfing wants to change not only the way we travel, but how we relate to the world!"

When I arrived in London I started checking out the CS Events page so I could meet some like-minded people here in The Big Smoke. Last week I came across a listing for a "Free Hugs" event. I had read a little about the Free Hugs Campaign in the newspaper over the years and always wanted to get out there and do it myself. This was the perfect opportunity, so, I made my FREE HUGS placard, complete with peace sign, heart and two maple leafs, and headed for the South Bank of the river Thames.

When I arrived, the first person I saw was Gilad, a CouchSurfer from Israel whom I had met a couple of weeks earlier at a CS karaoke event. Gilad was holding his sign (which offered FREE HUGS in English, Hebrew and Japanese) high above his head. I went straight over and wrapped my arms around him- my afternoon of Free Huggin' had begun.

The next two hours of my life were absolutely incredible. As the general public raced by I held my sign up and shouted things like, "Free Hugs!", "Hugs are awesome and I can prove it!", "Have you hugged a Canadian today?". It started off slowly. Many people tried to ignore us as they passed. Some stopped to take photos of the "crazy people" but kept a safe distance. But then I saw a woman standing just a few feet away, watching us with a smile on her face. I walked over to her and said, "Would you like a hug?" and without a word she put her arms around me. People started to clap and cheer and it was like an invisible barrier had been broken because more onlookers started coming over and hugging other CSers.

We gave out hundreds of Free Hugs and thousands of photos were taken! I hugged men, women, children... I even hugged a dog! There were no boundaries. No discrimination. No segregation. People of every age, gender and race were coming together. People who didn't speak the same language were hugging each other. The gesture of the hug said everything that needed to be said. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

Sure, there were still a lot of people that ignored us. A lot of people went to great lengths to avoid us. Some people would ask questions like, "What are you selling?" or "Is this a cult?", revealing their cynicism- which is too bad, because it is those people that really need to let their guard down and open up the most- but, the cynics and the skeptics were massively outnumbered by the ones who walked away smiling; feeling a little happier; that their day was a little brighter.

Sometimes, all we need is a hug.

Glasgow With the Flow

Although it was in 2008 that I left Canada with vagabonding dreams, 2009 will see my wandering lifestyle really begin to take shape. This year I will visit many more countries and start to really prepare for 2010 by getting rid of the things I don't need and acquiring the things that I do.

My first trip of the year was a brief one to Scotland in January. My American friend Mike had been living in Ireland for 4 months but was returning home at the end of January. We really wanted to meet up while we were both in this part of the world and decided that Scotland would be the place. I landed at Glasgow International Airport on 18 January, 2009.

I took a bus from the airport to Glasgow's central bus station. It is there that I met my friend Dave and his new girlfriend Yasemin. The first thing on the agenda was, of course, a pint! They took me to this really cool rock 'n roll bar where we did some catching up over a few glasses of delicious lager. Soon, Yasemin had to be going so we walked her to her train and then found ourselves a new bar while we waited for Mike's arrival.

A little back-story about Mike and I: We met on January 1st, 2006 in Mesquite, Nevada- a relative ghost-town in the middle of the dessert outside of Las Vegas. Amongst the tumbleweeds and coyotes, something special was about to take place. 160 young Americans and 4 Canadians had all arrived here with the same goal; to win $10,000 playing beer pong. This was the first-ever World Series of Beer Pong.

Mike Sherwood and his brother Joe came down from Montana. I was there with my beer pong partner Shaun, an old Disney friend, and two teammates from my university rugby team; Ciaran and Andrew. We met the Sherwood Bros. on day-one and bonded quickly over some warm-up games and playful mockery of each other's country. We all stayed in touch after the tournament and the following year I traveled to Montana and roadtripped down to Vegas with Mike and Joe for the WSOBP II. That was the last time I had seen little Mikey Sherwood... but in a few hours we were to be reunited again!

Mike took a bus in from the airport. Dave and I met him there and then- yep, you guessed it- found ourselves a pub. The stories and the beer flowed like... beer from a tap (I am a master of simile). All I can remember about the end of the night is enjoying three 6-piece McNuggets and a whole lotta' sweet and sour sauce.

The next day, once Mike and I got our shit together, we headed for the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. First opened in 1901, Kelvingrove is Scotland's "must-see museum", housing collections of art, armour, weapons, objects of ancient Egypt, flora and fauna from the four corners of the world (including Canadian beavers! See below), dinosaurs, antique aircraft, and all sorts of other random stuff. One of the highlights for me was viewing Rembrandt's mysterious "man in armour" painting. It's an absolutely masterful piece of work, but what's extremely interesting about it is that no one knows who the subject is suppose to be. Theories range from Mars, the God of War, to Achilles to Alexander the Great to simply Rembrandt's son in costume. There is an interactive touch-screen at the museum that allows the viewer to review the supporting evidence of each theory and then form their own conclusion. I believe it is meant to be a painting of Alexander the Great, but I urge anyone visiting Glasgow to check it out and decide for yourself.

What happened next was the greatest thing to happen to me since being in the United Kingdom. As we left the Kelvingrove Museum and walked down the steps, the clear night sky began to change and something very familiar started to fall from above. IT WAS SNOWING! Wonderful, beautiful snow! Oh, how I missed it! For months I had been wishing for snow, jealous of the incredible winter my friends in Canada were enjoying. And the way that it started to snow just as I walked out into the open made it feel as though this snowfall was just for me. As hoards of Scotsmen and Scotswomen ran for cover I stood there with my head tilted back and my arms open wide, loving every flaking minute.


That night, Mike and I met up with three really nice girls and did what we do best... no, not an orgy... we played beer pong! We taught Daniela, Lucy and Emily the rules and then proceeded to dominate them... again, NOT an orgy. Mike and I also played a few games head-to-head. It was just like the good old days! (Meaning, I kicked his ass!)

It was a hell of a night... and our last in the fair city of Glasgow. The next day we were on to the capital city of Edinburgh!

Fly Away Home

I have a tattoo of a goose.

About two weeks before I left Canada I decided to get a tattoo that would reflect the love I have for my country and commemorate my departure from it.  So, I got a tattoo of a Canada Goose taking flight.

Today, as I was walking down the streets of London, England, two Canada Geese flew overhead.  I spent the rest of the day thinking about the wonderful country I come from and the incredible friends that I have there.

I love you and I miss you.

 

C is for C U Next Tuesday

Anyone that has ever had a friend who speaks another language or has traveled anywhere where English isn't the mother tongue will tell you that one of the first things you learn is how to curse.

Sandy and her friends were already very familiar with a lot of English profanity.  Words like bitch, ass, cock, shit and fuck were part of their standard vocabulary.  But, I was able to give them the gift of "cunt".

Cunt is quite possibly my favourite "dirty word".  It's effective, versatile and just so damn fun to say.  Personally, I only use it towards male friends (eg. "Craig, you're such a cunt!", "What a cunt you turned out to be!", "Whats up Cunty?") or when I think its funny (which is often). I also explained the brilliance of using "C-U-Next-Tuesday" when you're in a location where saying "cunt" would be frowned upon.  Sandy took a strong liking to the word and was dropping C-Bombs for the rest of the week.

In return, a plethora of German cussin' was bestowed upon me.

Asrchloch -> asshole

Schlampe -> bitch

Halts Maul -> shut the fuck up (loose translation)

Kartoffelnauser -> potato-nose (Germans are weird)

Fotze -> cunt!

Needless to say, I had some fun with those gems and I look forward to expanding my vulgar vocabulary of foreign filth as I continue my travels.

B is (also) for Berlin

In 1986 American new wave band Berlin perplexedly climbed to the top of the charts with the profoundly shitty, "Take My Breath Away". In 2008, the city of Berlin took MY breath away!

Sandy found us a lift to Berlin using a rideshare website (think, organized hitchhiking). We met three random dudes in a parking lot, then defied the laws of physics by piling 5 full-grown adults into a slightly-larger-than-soup-can sized red two-door and headed for the autobahn. At 170km per hour the soup-can began to shake violently, leaving random nuts and bolts behind us like a metallic trail of bread crumbs. At least if we got lost we'd be able to find our way home following the scraps.

The drive into Berlin was breathtaking. We passed so many beautiful buildings and stunning monuments as we cruised through the streets. After being dropped off in the middle of the city, we bade Auf Wiedersehen to our autobahn buddies and headed for the home of Sandy's best-friend Tina. When we arrived, it was Tina's boyfriend Axel that greeted us. That's right.... Axel. Wait, it gets better; his full name is AXEL WOLF! How badass is that?! He's like a character from Mortal Kombat... there's Johnny Cage, Liu Kang, Sonya Blade and Axel Wolf.

Tina wasn't home from work yet, but Axel invited us in and put on a pot of tea. We got comfortable in the living room, Sandy and Axel did some catching up, Axel and I got to know each other a little, and it wasn't long before Tina arrived and joined us. I can't explain to you how happy Sandy and Tina were to see each other. These girls are truly in love with each other. Sandy says they are soulmates and it's impossible to argue with. The last guest to arrive was a man known simply as "Becko". We all chatted a little more, but soon it was time to start thinking about dinner. Sandy informed me that Tina, Axel and Becko are incredible chefs. In fact, creating their own recipes, they were the winners of a German Food Network television show! But, could they top the Student Sauce I had enjoyed the night before?

On this occasion it was Mr. Wolf's time. Watching Axel in the kitchen was like watching a mad scientist at work. Flying around from station to station.... chopping, mixing, stirring, frying. He knew exactly what he was doing, never needing to consult a recipe. The culinary highlight for me was the flambé because I... love... fire. So, I was captivated when Axel poured some alcohol into the wok and lit that baby up, sending a huge flame into the air. I was so impressed, I asked him to do it again. During the encore flambé, Axel accidentally singed all the hair off of his right forearm... and an eye-brow.... and he was forced to wear an eye-patch for the next few weeks... which, I believe, perfectly suits a man named Axel Wolf. It made him even more badass.

We dined like Könige und Königinnen and the wine and beer flowed like a magical river that lowers your inhibitions. After dinner we took to the streets of Berlin to find ourselves a Kneipenmeile (bar mile). I sampled many pints of delicious German beer and many shots of burning Mexican liquor. A night out with Axel and Becko felt like a night out with old friends. As we stumbled home at the end of the night, arm in arm, we sang "I'm Yours" by Jason Mraz over and over.

The next morning, Sandy, Tina and I dragged ourselves out of bed so that we could go see Berlin's most infamous landmark. Axel stayed in bed on the edge of death with one hell of a Kater.

The Berlin Wall separated West Berlin from the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) for more than 25 years. Basically, after World War II, West Germany developed into a capitalist country and experienced a period of economic growth and improving conditions, whereas East Germany developed an authoritarian government and a soviet-style planned economy. Because of this, many East Germans wanted to move to West Germany. This was an "intolerable" situation for Stalin. So, he decided to have the inner-border between the two German states closed, and a barbed-wire fence was erected.

Eventually, a fence became The Wall. The top of The Berlin Wall was lined with a smooth pipe, to make it harder to climb. It was reinforced by fencing, barbed-wire, anti-vehicle trenches, bunkers, dogs, and over 116 watchtowers. I can't even imagine what it must have been like. If you had a job or family members on the other side, you were completely cut-off from them. Although there were rules that allowed West Germans, and eventually West Berliners to apply to cross into East Germany, East Germans and East Berliners didn't have those rights. Initially, they weren't allowed to cross at all. Years later, a few exceptions were made but even if you applied for one of those reasons there were no guarantees.

Long story short (please research the long version... it's an important part of 20th century history), in 1989 a series of events happened that led to the fall of The Berlin Wall. In September, mass protests and demonstrations began in East Germany. On October 18, 1989 longtime East German leader Enrich Honecker resigned and was replaced by Egon Krenz. Tons of East German refugees had found their way into West Germany through Czechoslovakia and this was tolerated by the Krenz government. On November 9, it was decided to allow refugees to pass directly through crossing points between East and West Germany. Later that day, they modified the proposal to allow private travel. The announcement was made by the East German Minister of Propaganda and broadcast on television. The changes were to take effect the next day so that they had time to inform the border guards, but the Minister had been on vacation and wasn't fully briefed of the situation. So, when he was asked by reporters when these changes were to be imposed he said, "As far as I know, effective immediately, without delay."

Tens of thousands of East Berliners started showing up at border crossings demanding to be allowed to pass. The guards had no idea what was going on and made hectic phonecalls to their superiors. Nobody in the East German government wanted to take responsibility for ordering the use of lethal force, so in the face of being wildly outnumbered the guards gave way. East Berliners were met on the other side by West Berliners in celebration! It must have been a beautiful and very emotional sight!

In the weeks and months that followed more border crossings were opened and citizens started breaking off pieces of the wall with sledgehammers. On June 13, 1990 the official dismantling of The Wall by the East German Military began which led to German reunification on October 3. Small sections of The Wall were left up as memorials. Today those sections are covered in murals by artists from around the world, known as The East Side Gallery, and a ton of graffiti.






There are many lessons to be learned. There are still many walls to break down.

The Incident

Hello friends,

Many of you have sent me messages in recent weeks wondering when the next blog is going to come... all I can say at this point is, hopefully very soon.

A few weeks ago I ran into some bad luck: A guy that I work with spilled a ton of water on my Macbook while it was on. I tried my best to get all of the water out and dry it off, then took it to a shop to get it repaired. I was told that the damage was irreparable. Worst of all, the guy who did it is refusing any and all responsibility, saying that he was drunk and doesn't remember doing it.

Basically, I've lost everything; important documents, contact information for friends and family around the world, all of my travel photos etc. It's been pretty upsetting.

To make matters ever worse, it has setback my travel plans considerably. I was planning on leaving Wales on January 18th, spending some time in Scotland then going to London for a week before settling down in Brighton on the south-coast of England. I had even given my notice at work. But, I decided that it was important for me to replace the computer for many reasons so now I'm stuck in Swansea for at least another month. Gutted.

The new Macbook is being shipped to my Mom in Canada and then she will be forwarding it on to me.

Thank you very much for all of your support in regards to my blog. Please don't give up on me! Keep checking back and hopefully I'll be back to blogging very soon.

Peace and pints,
Mojo