Mama Africa, Benda Bilili and Michel Petrucciani.

Who says the life of a musician is easy? Musicians have to be promoters, managers, publicists, writers, do public relations among other managerial tasks. Plus they have to juggle other jobs as only a few of them can make enough money to survive through their art. If you add serious problems like repression, discrimination, homelessness or physical handicaps then all the odds are against you. The Vancouver International Film Festival is presenting three music films about conquering adversity and triumph where nobody would think of making it. These three stories are an an example of the determination and the hardships that these artists had to endure to achieve their dreams. The characters of the documentaries did reach their objectives and set an example for you to never give up, specially if you live in a first world country like Canada. Their message is not only about success, its also about  their struggle for a better world, specially Miriam Makeba.

Congolese band  Staff Benda Bilili, virtuoso pianist Michel Petrucciani and the South African singer Miriam Makeba are the subjects of documentaries by French Renaud Barret & Florent de la Tullaye, who immersed themselves in Kinshasa and actually participated directly in the outcome of the lives of the band; Michael Radford and director extraordinaire Mika Kaurismaki respectively.

Miriam Makeba was a fighter despite living a life full of blows, but at the same time, her life was full of adventures, travels and emotions. She managed to bring change to her people. She was a South African singer, but she was more than that; she was a social activist. Mika Kaurismaki, one of the best film directors from Finland, followed the life of this amazing woman, from her humble beginnings to the fame and her fight against apartheid in her country. She made a couple of speeches to the United Nations, she was banned first from South Africa and then boycotted in the USA for criticizing Israel´s oppressive politics against the Palestinians. Her voice was astounding and she was always smiling and sharing her food,  her food and her talent, even through rough times. She raised the bar for all of us. She always said that South Africa was the same as the USA, but the South African government admitted openly their racists politics.

“I look at an ant and I see myself: a native South African, endowed by nature with a strength much greater than my size so I might cope with the weight of a racism that crushes my spirit.”
Miriam Makeba

Benda Bilili is a real story of endurance, it follows a group of friends, but not your regular folk. These people are homeless, handicapped, disable, poor, but nevertheless they formed a musical band that managed to play in the wild streets of Kinshasa for coins, until the French directors Renaud Barret & Florent de la Tullaye, spotted them and introduced them to the other star of the story; Roger, who plays a one string instrument made with a fishing line, a tin can and a bended twig. Together and with the help of the filmmakers they recoded a couple of songs. Soon after, they lost everything in a fire. The project fell apart. One year later, the directors returned with money from a record label to finish the album. Finding the band members proved to be kind of a nightmare, specially to find Roger, who is not a kid anymore, he lives in a remote village in the jungle where you can only access by river. After recording the album in the zoo with a portable studio the documentary follows them successfully playing in Europe. The crowds go wild. You could go wild if you go check them out at the Vogue theatre this September 19th.

Michael Petrucciani was born with osteogenesis imperfecta, which is a genetic disease that causes brittle bones and in his case short stature. He could barely walk and had to be carried everywhere during his life. But this condition didn’t deterred him of following his dream, he wanted to become a jazz pianist, a classic trained jazz pianist. He was considered a virtuoso. He fathered two children and lived with three women. He was successful in what he liked to do and besides his short stature and disability he lived a life full of excitement.

The moral of these stories is pretty simple. Never give up. To reach your dream you have to lay one brick everyday until you have built your dream home.

Ricky has a dream: to make Staff Benda Bilili the best band in Congo Kinshasa. Roger, a street child, more than ever wants to join these stars of the ghetto, who get around in customized tricycles. Together, they must avoid the pitfalls of the street, stay united and find the force to hope in music. For five years, from the first rehearsals to their triumph in international festivals, Benda Bilili ! (“beyond appearances”) is the story of this dream becoming a reality.

The title pretty much sums the night. I was in a strange reality for 6 or so hours. I was completing a week for detox; healthy diet with no meat, no grease, no sugar, no alcohol. That evening I had to go the anniversary party of a magazine that I write for in my native tongue. The publication is called Spanglish and it was its 13th birthday, the celebration was near Joyce at the Chilean Co-op. I also needed to go to the Waldorf and the Cobalt to review shows.

But before going anywhere, I stopped by a friend’s place for a visit where I was offered this ginger tea with mushrooms. Its all natural right? I was broke too, so I had to walk to the party. When I hit Nanaimo street, two or three blocks later my head exploded. By the time I went to the celebration I was feeling disconnected from the world. As soon as I got into the hall, the director at the front of the stage began talking about me to the audience. A cold sweat was parading through my body when I was asked to go to the front, they handed me a Diploma which I was not expecting. It was because of my trajectory with the magazine, more than ten years writing for them uninterrupted. So I had to go in front of all these people while my brain was exploding with multicolour hues watching how the faces of the audience turned into mashed potatoes. I accepted the recognition with a smile, kept it simple and went to find a chair among the carrots and the water.

Next on the agenda was the Waldorf, every last Friday they have the Latin cabaret, Tropidelica, they had Uproot Andy from New York playing in the big room. We were there to say hello and left with a promise of returning and headed to the Cobalt. My body was rushing with serotonin, although the faces were normal now, maybe a little wavy, like when reality bends and you can see through the air.

When we got to the new Cobalt The Red Hot Icicles Burning On Fire were playing, we were saying hi to some of the local musicians that were at the place so we weren’t paying attention to the first song. The band were playing a standard 4 by 4 which evolved to more progressive songs, their creativity started to show catching the attention of the audience. They have a female singer playing the keyboards, a guitar player who also sings and a drummer, all dressed in glam, shiny retro glam. This band is yet another new wave punk band from Vancouver, there is a very interesting movement gestating in BC and a lot of these bands are fronted by women. The name comes from a childhood game of the singer, the band left a good impression, check them out at www.redhoticiclesburningonfire.bandcamp.com Could this be circus rock?

Tyranahorse did not disappoint, they could be the next big thing from Vancouver. Their set is powerful, not too experimental to alienate potential fans but not too vanilla to alienate avid music fans that are looking for something new; for a fresh sound. Tyranahorse provides all that. The guitars are heavy with catchy riffs, Prophecy Sun´s vocals are harsh, like Lydia Lunch and her use of the theremin is fascinating. The rest of the band has some metal background so the mix is mesmerizing. Is it safe to affirm that these guys picked up where You Say Party left. Tyranahorse is now one my favourite bands in Vancouver and their set just reaffirm my suspicions.

It was definitely not a boring show at all, the music indie scene in Vancouver is getting better and better every day and the bands are starting to support other bands more than ever which is resulting in a musical movement in the city with concerts happening every day.

The DJ was not my cup of tea, but then Aunts and Uncles hit the stage, and despite the fact that the violin of Adrianne was not loud enough, they rocked the place. They will have a CD out next month so stay tuned for that and the release party. You want to party with these guys and listen to their music.

Then we grabbed a cab with my friend’s money to the Waldorf where the party was at full swing, everybody was dancing to the Cumbias, both rooms were still full of people, Up Root Andy was still playing. It was around 230 AM in the morning and the effect of the trippy tea was wearing out and I had to walk back home so I left toward my bed several blocks away, the landing was uneventful.

The snow fell by a dozen pounds per second all over the city of Vancouver and nevertheless the Performance Works was full of people eager to see some of the best experimental musicians in Vancouver, but these guys that played are not only jazz performers, they like to improvise and are the point of the arrow of the Avant Gard music in Vancouver… The free acts at Performance Works were thanks to the Coastal Jazz and Blues Society who also put together the International Jazz Festival that will happen at the end of June in this city.

The Granville Island was full of white, the sky was glittering, the streets were covered,  magic was in the air. The festival was going on with full force. Now that the spring is coming, let us remember the beauty that winter gave us.

JPCarter

The lingering sound pierced through the local. The sound came out of a trumpet, the guitar dressed the song with a melody, the bass is free of chains and the drums go on building the piece with jazz elements as the instruments engage in a nostalgic discussion, trumpet and guitar get hysterical. Experimental jazz of the performers in charge of the music part of the festival. Carsick, The Pugs and Crows with Tony Wilson, Grdon Gordina and the East Van Strings along to some less experimental bands like Current Swell and Hayley Sales and the cryptic cabaret strut of The Zolas with special guest Maurice. Or The Nightcrawlers a quintet of Vancouver musicians dedicated to preserving the sound and vibe of the great 1960′s Hammond B3 organ.

The Nightcrawlers by Oswaldo Perez Cabrera

Where is the landscape for the infinity of this soundtrack?

Outside other performers were entertaining people.Firebelly: Two Lights.

The Only Animal – Hot Jazz with the Flaming Instruments

Aeriosa: Cold Hands Warm Heart Too

Friday night started at Dave’s office with a Vanmusic meeting. Afterwards we headed to the Biltmore for the Schmooze party put by the BC Music, a cool place to network with people in the music industry. We found talented artists like Philoceraptor, John Pippus, Artic, The Aching Heart Foundation, Deadwax Collective and met new ones like Artinair, Miliah, Shalini Kumar, among others that I have yet to check out. I met some publicists and managers, Thorny Bleeder was there also. If you are a musician DON’T miss these networking parties, there are sound engineers, designers, graphic designers, among other interesting people to meet.

Joyce Collingwood by Phillip Jeffrey

I was there until after 9PM then Mario from The Aching Heart Foundation and me headed to CiTR to the show of Ben Lai Thunderbird Radio Hell where bands play LIVE check it out every Thursday at 10PM We got there armed with a six pack and video cameras. The girls were about to start playing Their songs are short and powerful, punk rrrriot grrrls style. Two guitars a bass and drums plus the singer conforms this quintet of girls. Our own Gillian Callander plays bass, Claudia from Mexico is one of the guitar players, Twitch, also a fashion designer is the other guitar player, the drums were played by Joy Mullen who also drums for ESL and Private Minnou sings and screams at the microphone. Although they don’t like comparisons I find them closer to Bikini Kill and Kathleen Hanna. The band started its life from water polo and Craiglists Ads, the name is a reference to a Skytrain station in Vancouver probably the name came from a drunken adventure they think. There was also an awesome photographer documenting the radio gig Phillip Jeffrey check it here www.fadetoplay.com

So after that energetic gig we flew to the Honey Lounge there in the Downtown Eastside. We get into the place only to be blown away by the band called Heavy Chains. I will make a post about them, they are loud like walls of noise coming out of the speakers. Heavy Chains are a three piece, but they really make a racket. This band is my new favourite band. Then it was time for some more one minute bombs from Joyce Collingwood. They are playing again at the Honey Lounge on March 17 and On April 14 with Sex with Strangers. Check them out when they play next time. Hang out with Joyce Collingwood, an amazing and powerful group of girls and be sure to check out Heavy Chains.

Dir. Radoslaw Rychcik/Stefan Zeromski Company Theatre (Kielce)

At the Performance Works on Granville Island Jan 19-22 as part of the PuSh festival

By Oswaldo Perez Cabrera

What a surreal play. This was the most interesting thing I have seen in a long time. Where to start? Its not even a traditional theatre play, it is more like a musical performance, more concert than theatre, like slam poetry with music. It was written as a play by late French playwright  Bernard-Marie Koltes. This version has LIVE music by Polish band the Natural Born Chillers, and also includes a short film, a collage of images. “Its a commentary” said the director Radoslaw Rychcik who is Polish as the rest of the crew that presented this work of multidisciplinary art. The short film is a chaotic collage of human behaviour.

The production is comprised of three different artistic expressions mixed to create a unique visual and hearing experience. Well maybe four, because the two actors, Wojciech Niemczyk (the Dealer) and Tomasz Nosinski (The Client) appear to have a monologue instead of talking to each other. The plot goes a little bit like this: Two guys have an encounter in a back alley, in a world behind walls, where beasts and men converge in the most decadent part of our decayed society. They bargain and exchange intense emotions.

The language that the author used is very poetic and full of passion. The play is all in Polish with the English subtitles on a screen above the stage. The director refers to his practice as “Hysterical theatre”. The characters are in black suits and white faces. They move in a way that might be a dance to the post punk, electrorock of the Natural Born Chillers who are 4 guys from Poland dressed like mimes playing bass, drums, a guitar, a keyboard and electronic samplers. The actors talk facing the public, not each other, they scream suddenly, they shock, they react, they laugh and cry hysterically, they twitch and they recite the words as if they were almost singing. The Dealer is like rock and roll, tough guy, that cannot take rejection and will never say NO, he always have what you are looking for and if he doesn’t have it, he will get it for you. The client never really reveals what is looking for. He is more hip and blues, he strips, and we never really know if the transaction was about drugs,sex, or longing to heal phsycological wounds, but it is obvious that their trade goes beyond a service or a product, it seems more like a negociation of the soul.

The Natural Born Chillers were fantastic and they carry the mood and the pace of the play with their  punk, electronic music, post rock, even a love theme. I asked them if they were comissioned to do the soundtrack. They said they wrote most of the music for this production. “Except for two songs that we play in our regular concerts, we wrote the whole soundtrack in 5 days” said the guitar player and laptop manipulator. “Electrorock is what some people use to define our music” said another member of the band only to be contradicted by another member. Genres apart they are unique, but blend a lot of elements from drum and bass and electronic music. But in the play they transformed into a more punk post rock band, and they were loud. They are a cult band in their native Poland. They are from Oasterdam in the Wybierz region in Poland. You should check them out.

As for the video. Well lets just say that I recognized some images from Santa Sangre by Jodorowski in the midst of a collage of soft core porn, extreme art, snuff like movies, grotesque, infernal, and shocking images. The video serves like an intermission before the end of the show and its where The Natural Born Chillers play their old stuff, maybe 5 to 10 minutes of post rock noise with the disturbing images going fast, it was maybe what was inside the heads of the characters who were standing with their backs facing the audience. I would like to watch the video again actually.

The show is a punk hysterical, strident slam poetry monologues with lots of fog and a crazy video. At the end there was a talk back where they chatted about the challenges of putting a piece like this together, but the actors were really good, specially with the impromptu  hysterical laughters and the demented faces. The director seemed please and the audience, half of them Polish, also seemed content. How do I know half of them were Polish? Because when the crew in the Q and A told a joke in Polish half the audience laughed. Although I was suprised I did not see so much youth within the spectators, I would think this spectacle would drive a lot more of a younger crowd as it does in Europe where the playwright and the band are better known than here and there is more love towards avant garde culture.

“the solitude of cotton fields. a blackmailing solitude. a solitude on display. a solitude like a good song that you can sing. all songs are about love and there are wolves in every one of them…” – Radoslaw Rychcik.

Director’s Bio

Radoslaw Rychcik is a rising young director living and working in Poland. He refers to his practice as “hysterical theatre… based on extreme emotion, where the spectator is slapped in the face, gets a moment’s break, and is slapped again.” Rychcik has directed shows by Bertolt Brecht (Versus: In the Jungle of Cities), Roland Barthes (Fragments: A Lover’s Discourse) and recently premiered an adaptation of Gustav Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. With his work previously featured at Under the Radar (NYC), this North American tour includes stops at the Portland Institute for Contemporary Art’s Time-Based Art Festival, REDCAT (LA) and On the Boards (Seattle).

Trailer

Hungarians are famous for the high number of sunshine hours, good wine, pálinka and peculiar sense of humour. One might think that such a fame could only mean a bunch of happy people who enjoy life no matter what.But don’t let yourself be fooled.

They are also well known for their gloomy mood and suicidal tendencies. Statistics show that this sunny and flat little Central European country is full of people who leave this world by taking their own lives.

A Hungarian would explain you why they should be called Central European instead of Eastern, and they would be seriously insulted if you couldn’t keep it in mind. ”It is because” they would say ”as you look at the map of Europe, especially in the geographical sense, Hungary is just about in the middle. See, there is Romania, Bulgaria, Albania and so on, part of Russia and even a little part of Turkey which is still Europe, and this is all still East to Hungary”

Oddly enough, suicide rates are the highest in the areas with the most sunshine hours. Knowing this we shouldn’t be too surprised by learning that even their national anthem is about their sadness and endless suffering and already its first line begs God to send them a lot of happiness, because they really need it.

Isten, áldd meg a magyart, jókedvvel bőséggel
Nyújts feléje védő kart, ha küzd ellenséggel
Balsors akit régen tép hozz reá víg esztendőt,
Megbűnhődte már e nép a múltat s jövendőt

God, bless Hungarians with a lot of happiness
Give them a helping hand in their fight against their enemies
Bring them joy, they have been miserable for such a long time
They have already suffered enough for past and for future.

Imagine classes of little kids learning the lyrics of this wonderfully depressive song all standing, because even the youngest ones must know, that you always have to stand up whenever you hear this sacred melody and sing along if possible, singing with their sweet little voices, shining eyes and healthy red cheeks being completely unaware of the fact that what they have just learnt will help them adapt into a society of gloomy Hungarians. They will regularly repeat it as a holy mantra until it becomes their blood. They will sing it on the opening and closing ceremonies of each school year standing in neat and orderly lines, so that they can remember what it means to go to school and to be a Hungarian. They will sing it before football matches standing straight and proud just to acknowledge (after the match) that those good old days of Hungarian Football of Ferenc Puskás and 6:3 are sadly long gone.

They will sing it at drunken New Year’s Eves with tears in their eyes after having listened to the heartbreaking speech of the President or perhaps after having made their New Years Resolutions about giving up smoking, swearing less, eating healthier (which also means eating in a less Hungarian way) and maybe even being happier and kinder with their fellow Hungarians. Bus drivers will promise themselves not to close the doors right in front of wrinkled little grandmas at the edge of a heart attack… But let’s get back to the second line of this beautifully composed musical piece by Ferenc Erkel for a poem by Ferenc Kölcsey written in 1823 and adopted for ceremonies in the year 1844 of revolutionary times, birth of Hungarian nationalism and time of great expectations (of independence). ``Nyújts feléje védő kart, ha küzd ellenséggel“ – “Give them a helping hand in their fight against their enemies.“ Hope shines, even if just for a very brief moment, in other words “we suffer, we suffer, but after all it is not that bad, if we can make someone else feel even worse and unite in hatred against our enemy.“

After getting a bit more familiar with this important part of Hungarian musical history and getting a glimpse of the complex psychology of the people who sing it regularly it wont be such a shock anymore to find out that an other, similarly cheerful masterpiece known as the Suicide Song is from the very same land. But that`s an other story already that we will share with you later. Be patient, and prepare your heart to read about and listen to a song that has accompanied so many sad souls on their last journey, a song that was banned from radios because so many chose it to die with. A song written by a gloomy Hungarian who, like so many of his kind, ended his own life by himself.

I met Michelle Rainey working on an article for Canamo several years ago. She was a beautiful and articulate woman that helped cement the marihuana movement in Canada. She was struggling with lymphatic cancer and melanoma, but she also had to live with Crohn’s disease which is an inflammatory bowel disease which is disabling and difficult to treat. She got relief from Cannabis and since meeting Marc Emery she decided to join the fight for legalization becoming Emery’s business partner. She was just 39 years old. In her short life she was a very accomplished woman being an advocate for medical marihuana patients, doing a show for POT TV, campaining for the BC Marihuana Party and touring in the Cannabus along Brian Taylor, then president and current mayor of Grand Forks. She also was involved with the magazine Treating Yourself in Toronto and Cannabis Culture in Vancouver. She was accused of selling marihuana seeds with Marc Emery and Greg Williams by the DEA but after a plea bargain by Emery she was let go with Greg.

Quotes:

“Cannabis isn’t for everybody, but patients are entitled to pick and choose their own medicine,” said Michelle Rainey.

“I want people to keep working, keep working for change – too many sick people are still having difficulty getting their medication,” Rainey recently said.

“That’s what I want as my legacy — change.”

“Change is gong to come.”

Michelle Rainey was one of the most hard-working, vibrant, and dedicated cannabis activists on the planet. She will be sorely missed by everyone in the Cannabis Culture family, and our hearts and thoughts go out to her loved ones in this time of grief. Thanks for all the wonderful work and great times Michelle; we will never forget you!  Marc Emery.

Michelle did what virtually no other human being could do or did, except her and I. She was an engine for great change in the world, committing money, her health, and her whole soul into this great movement that is forever in debt to her – just as I am in debt to her, for everything she has done for me and our cause. The whole movement, but especially the Canadian movement, may never know how much of our progress in the last decade is attributable to Michelle’s perseverance in the face of great pain, stress and financial pressure. Everyday we had tremendous demands on us for monies we had committed to activism, to our suppliers, to our many employees. Every day we knew we risked a run-in with the law, and all these combined pressures certainly took their toll on her. Marc Emery.

Read more here

http://www.cannabisculture.com/v2/node/25052

Song for Tomorrow

VanMusic is proud to sponsor the Swedish film Song for Tomorrow to be screened at the Vancouver International Film Festival on Wednesday October 6th at the Park Theatre at 400PM and on October 9th at the same location at 715PM

Synopsis

A truly honest, very charming, and ultimately moving work about the odd relationship between two indelible characters (and performers), Song of Tomorrow is a stellar debut from the award-winning Swedish shorts’ team DoubleJonas (Jonas Bergergård and Jonas Holmström).

Stig Manner lives a rough and unglamorous life buying and selling things to flea markets. It is a continuous struggle to manage from day to day. His bohemian friend, the wandering singer Janos, prefers to live free of all the demands of society, but is there to help him out.

Stig believes that Janos is a great undiscovered talent and decides that the way out of his situation is by marketing Janos as a brilliant new artist, by which both of them can be successful.

Stig only client is János (Sven-Olof Molin), an aging Bohemian folk-singer, who we first see performing in a shopping mall, who could also be, to Stig, a surrogate son. A pretty decent entertainer but a bit of a drunk, János may be less convinced of his own talent, but plays along with the persistent Stig because, well, nothing much matters to him other than just getting by and enjoying himself.

With patience and an open mind to the paths of their actors – whose lives aren’t that different from what’s depicted here, and it shows – DoubleJonas’ on-the-fly work is a process of recognizing and telling the hidden stories of everyday life, seeking out the stories you didn’t know existed, but that were right in front of you all the time. The result is a ticklish heartbreaker, a sensitive discovery where freedom breathes from the screen, featuring two old guys you won’t be able to get out of your head any time soon.

Janos isn’t quite as enthusiastic about Stig’s high-flying plans, but does his best to keep Stig’s burning enthusiasm alive. All of a sudden Stig is reminded of his past, something which may change everything.

Director’s statement

Song of Tomorrow has in many ways been a sort of social project, where we have constantly been working very close together with the actors. We have persistently taken their view of the storyline into consideration, and often we have created scenes based on the actors’ notions and ideas. The story is based on a reality not far from the actors’ own life. This fact creates a resonance that sounds throughout the story. And with this in mind, we have kept a free approach as we have listened carefully to our actors during the creative process, step by step.

We haven’t used a script, but have instead edited the film parallel to shooting scenes. This enabled quick decisions on shooting new scenes, hence writing the storyline as the project progressed. Our aim has been to shape a creative process where we don’t actually know which way is the right one until we kind of sense it in the air, when the camera rolls or at the editing. We let things happen. When we impartially try to stage scenes without knowing too much about them beforehand we gain a richer understanding of how the story wants to evolve.

Director’s biographies

Song of Tomorrow is the debut feature film of Jonas Bergergård and Jonas Holmström. Long time friends Bergergård and Holmström started filming together in 2001, and were both quite inexperienced and new to the film medium. But they shared the same vision and approach regarding storytelling. With neither finances nor noteworthy technical know-how, they started to experiment, and together they developed their own unique style of filmmaking. During this period of finding their common artistic language they created several acclaimed short films, amongst others Natan - Grand Prix winner of Clermont-Ferrand ISFF (2004).

Jonas Bergergård was born 1966 in Karlstad, Sweden. At the age of 20, Bergergård abandoned his anticipated medical career to pursue more cultural endeavours. He started writing music and attended numerous art classes, a fact which totally turned the tables on his plans for studying medicine. Life became chaotic, but alive. While working a summer job in a mental institution Bergergård met a woman who made a great impression on him. He decided to write a book about her. And at some point during this process his desire and longing for storytelling was born.

Jonas Holmström was born 1964, also in Karlstad. Holmström started his artistic career at an early age, attending both art and acting classes. Up until 1998 he was making his living as a painter. When a regional film resource centre announced a scriptwriting competition, a turning point was reached. Just for fun, he started to work on some scripts. One year later he had made his first short film, and while doing that he discovered his love for the art of filmic storytelling.

The filmmaking of DoubleJonas (a name the director duo has used throughout their short films) is both a process of recognising and telling the hidden stories of everyday life. Listening to voices that want to break out and expose themselves to the world. To find paths within the storytelling that affects not only the viewers, but the filmmakers as well. One could argue that this is one of the biggest challenges of both writing and filmmaking – to seek out the stories you did not know existed, but stories that were right in front of you all the time. These stories have to be treated very delicately in order to make them visible. Often they are both fragile and somewhat photophobic, so they require a lot of patience and an open mind. In DoubleJonas’ films the understanding of this sensitivity is visually portrayed both in the honest and close-to-life acting and in the careful deliverance of the story.

We were wet, we danced and jumped, we explored, we climbed a mountain and crossed a river, we traveled on shrooms with Mary Jane, we camped and made new friends and met old ones. Oh yeah, there was music too…

Like every year for the last 13 years, the forest 6  kilometers from Salmo BC became a carnival.   The heartbeat of Shambhala, in the form of electronic thumps, engulfed the river and the mountains of the the Salmo River Ranch deep in the Kootneys. Shambhala is a 4 day celebration of nature through mainly electronic music. The festival sold out its 10,000 tickets plus 2,000 comps, staff passes and talent who made of this area a small city during the festival. The word Shambhala comes from the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and it refers to a mythical kingdom hidden somewhere in Asia, a place of peace, tranquility and happiness. Here in the ranch, there is happiness yes, and peace, but not tranquility. The festival is a trip to wonderland for adults with the exception of alcohol. No alcohol is allowed in the premises, although we saw some beer cans but mainly it was dry of alcohol. Drugs on the other side… as in every electronic music festival or party.

We reached the festival via Nelson on Friday afternoon, it took us 3 hours to register, there was a line up of festival goers. The parking lots were full of happy campers and their cars (around 4,000). When we managed to get into our parking spot that was going to be our home for the next three days it was already dark. People in costumes were everywhere, nothing compared to the first edition that was “just” a big party organized by the youngest of the Bundschuh of the Salmo Ranch and it has become a tradition since then. Now the  family is involved in the organization of the festival. regarding the costumes Marvin Walker, the public relations manager told us

The costume thing apparently started innocently enough in the raver scene in Europe before coming to n.a. in the 80′s. Just a top hat and cane or something to set one apart from the ‘main stream’. Also with the psychedelic drugs present people started getting more and more extreme. I don’t think there was anybody really dressed up in the first year of the festival. The only pictures I’ve seen of that one was a bunch of typical looking Canadians in winter coats and hats in major rainstorm conditions all night long! Eventually as the crowds got bigger the costumes (and lack of clothing) started appearing.

Los Furios at Shambhala

We cruised through the 6 stages of the festival: The Rock Pit and my personal favourite where we danced to Los Furios who performed to an excited crowd. The Rock Pit also had Five Alarm Funk and Sex with Strangers which were not officially on the program but nevertheless performed an energetic set. Vitaminsforyou, Hey Ocean, Sweatshop Union, Delhi to Dublin among others paraded through the rock pit. The other stages with electronic music were The Pagoda with its laser show, The Village with its impressive stage, and the Laberynth, all with a visuals, majestic constructions in the middle of the forest which included lights and laser beams. Then there was the Fractal Forest where artists also left their trace in the trees. The living room is the other stage, its smaller and featured some speakers and performances, meditation and crystal healers.

All the action happens in a working farm next to the Salmo River, the beauty of the nature is astonishing. Shambhala becomes a small city. There are portable toilets everywhere with sanitation, there was a poop police who changed them often, there was a big First Aid cabin, art for sale everywhere, a sex education centre who provided condoms with a harm reduction component, there were testing ecstasy pills, exchanging needles and educating people about drugs, there were food vendors, showers and drinking water. Water is very important in this festival. There is a fire department with plenty of water for an emergency fire and diesel generators and back up generators for an electrical failure enough to supply the needs of 15 households. A well prepared small complex with lot of activities. oh yeah and the music. The music never stops. There is always a beat going on and people dancing. It was crazy.

The drugs. We got offered a couple of times, any kind of experience enhancers. Although Marvin told us the festival does not approve any drug consumption, they do have the information available and the resources to keep the drug users safe. Marvin assures it is the only festival in North America to do so. Generally people bring their own stuff but there are sellers that make it inside and peddle their product “discreetly”. Some sources affirm there are 150 undercover cops working the festival but we personally never saw one, unless it was one of those topless sunbathers or the guy with the banana costume. Marvin, who was the head of the talent  administration two years before this one said about the cops:

I know that we have unmarked detectives as part of our security – they investigate reports regarding serious complaints – drugs or whatever. They don’t go around trying to buy drugs or buddying up to people to see if they have drugs. Only if they have complaints of serious crime – usually thefts or weapons or reports about large quantities of drugs. We know that the RCMP
seem to have a mandate to focus on festivals and the drug scene so I wouldn’t doubt that they had some people on site but not with our knowledge or approval.

Anyways, in BC, the enforcement of the drug law for consumers is pretty laxed so don’t worry if you are an avid consumer of drugs and want to attend Shambhala next year, the police won’t arrest 9,999 people. We got a couple of grams of musrooms the last day and up we went flying revisiting the stages and facilities of the festival which this year brought some international acts as well.

This is the mountain we hiked

The day we hiked the mountain (took us more than 4 hours up and down) some guy threw fluorescein dye in the river making it green and confusing all the party goers.

It is typically used industrially putting it in pipelines etc to see if there are any leaks. It is non-toxic and is also used in medicine for angiograms – tracking small blood vessels for retina and cornea surgery. In large concentrations it can cause nausea or vomiting as well as allergic
reactions.

The whole experience was mind bending, we met very strange characters from Alberta, all BC, we saw a Mexican flag, a swede flag, we heard Portuguese, French and Spanish. We saw weird looking campgrounds and costumes. oh yes and there was the music. The non stop beating of the heart of Shambhala deep in the west Koots.

remember that the festival solds out days before the inauguration and check the website for entry times for next year. http://www.shambhalamusicfestival.com/

Pancho´s Burritos

It is noon and I am drinking beer in a market in Manchester. I am also eating chilli con carne at Enrique´s Burrito stand, which is a bad idea because I will probably be farting all the journey. My bus leaves in a couple of hours, 21 hours to Amsterdam. I have a joint and my luggage and I am ready to rock and roll. My flight was canceled so I was stranded thanks to that unpronounceable Icelandic volcano.

Now its 1:45 and I am smoking a large blunt in front of the station, I wish I don´t get anybody next to me in the bus. I really want to sleep. Its going to be 5 hours to London and then I have to wait 2 hours or so to catch the next bus to Holland.

At 2:30 we are on our way and I am very stoned, my new roommates gave me an Ipod so I am listening to grunge and other similar bands, I think I recognize System of a Down, but I listen also to Massive Attack and Portishead, well, life is good after all. I am crossing the British countryside and when we get to London it is still sunny.

Its 7 o´clock and I am drinking beer in the pub across the bus station, there is a football game but I don´t remember who is playing, maybe Barcelona. They have no TV in this pub which is rare. I have to take another bus so I hope that nobody sits besides me, I wanna sleep.

My wish was granted and it is getting dark and I lie down and sleep. There is only a couple nearby chatting away. Its only a two seater so I have to put my legs on the windows like a complicated yoga position. I fall sleep until the driver with a funny voice starts telling us that we need to wake up because we are going to get the bus on the train and the French want to see our passports.

The bus barely fits in the train, we can go outside but really its not like a nice train, its a bit claustrophobic, I prefer to resume my sleep. We will go below the ocean, I hope the tunnel resists the pressure of the English channel. Next stop is Calais where thousands of Britons are stranded trying to get back to their lives.

Elections are happening and the Liberal Democrats had a chance to change the old status quo but….The fascists (corporations, military industries and political elites) took over democracy a long time ago and will not allow real changes. The ruling elites want to morph western societies from police states into full fascist states, as promoted by Bush, Blair, Brown, Obama, Rudd, Harper, Calderon, Berlusconi, Sarkozy, Fidesz along with the Orwellian Nobel Committee, ‘war is peace’ and ‘ignorance is strength’. But TV is so good. I am really disappointed with people.

6 AM and I wake up in Eindhoven, I am in the Netherlands and the streets are deserted. We stopped here and soon we will be in Amsterdam. Everybody gets out and smokes, the city is not that great so I think I am going back to sleep again.

10 AM and we are in Amsterdam, the bloody bus stops outside of city centre, I was expecting to get out at Centraal Station, now I have to walk half an hour with my suitcase to the centre and then an extra 15 minutes because I am lost and I need to change my pounds into Euros. It´s 11 when I get to the hotel and they tell me I have to wait until 2 to check in so I leave my luggage and go to find a coffee shop to smoke and make the best out of it. But first, I have to take a shit in the toalett of the hostel which is not a very nice experience but what can I do? Things can only get better.

I am stoned. I check in and go out again to eat and try to find a decent coffee shop. I don´t know what have happened since the last time I was here. All the coffee shops have this ugly music. Everything is so expensive and full of young, loud and annoying tourists mainly from England and Spain. I cannot find any alternatives to the commercial shit and Paradiso wants 25 Euros to get in, Melkveg doesn´t have anything tonight. My stay in Amsterdam is disappointing.

inexisting bus station

11 o´clock, I am heading to take the tram to go to the bus station that doesn´t exist. It took me 21 hours to get here from Manchester and I have to ride another 22 on the bus to get to Budapest. The station is not really a station just a couple of buses in a parking lot. I hope I have the whole back row for myself. I smoke a big big spliff and I eat a space cookie.

The bus heads down to Eindhoven again, I smoke another joint before we head into German lands, the space cookie is kicking in as well, we have 20 minutes so I run to the bar in front of the station for a couple of beers, I am so thirsty. Orange ways even has a stewardess and free coffee and hot chocolate, they have beers as well, Heinekens for two Euros. I am flying as high as a kite, I try to read a short story of Ray Bradbury, but I am very thirsty so I ask for a two beers and a bottle of water. Sör and viz. I have to practice my poor Hungarian. The lady goes to fulfill my wishes but she breaks the key of the fridge, I am parched and there are no liquids in the bus.

I don´t know what time is it but we are in Dusseldorf. The city looks good, big bridges, a big river, maybe the Rhine. I am still high and I wish I had bought some beers or water in Amsterdam, but I thought the bus station was normal and not just an empty lot. Maybe I should have brought some from Einhoven. I want water. We cross a beach on the river with a lot of Germans drinking and taking the sun. I envy them.

I lost track of time. We stop at a gas station. 10 minutes. Tíz perc. I ask how many minutes from the lady, I said 10 minutes in English she replied annoyed because she is just saying it in English because of me. But her English is very bad. There are only like 4 Hungarians and me on the bus. We will eventually pick up more passengers along the German cities, among them a Japanese girl, at least she will have one more reason to practice her English. I grab a couple of cold beers and water and a small sandwich. They managed to open the bridge. We are saved. We head to Frankfurt.

Frankfurt. We cannot get out of the bus. Almost a year ago I was here. Time flies. I am sleepy now. But I can get beers from the stewardess. Germany is bigger than I thought. Good thing I can lay down and try to sleep. I fall asleep to the rocking motion of the bus. I dream of earthquakes.

7 AM The sunlight crashes through the window, we are outside of Vienna in Austria. The chauffeur tells us to go have breakfast in 20 minutes. I get an orange juice and a small sandwich. 5 Euros, fucking expensive. Only three hours more until Budapest. I didn´t know what time we crossed the Austro Hungarian border. I start reading the signs in Hungarian and I feel I am home.

Budapest. The bus also leaves me in a station outside of what I know. I don´t know why Orange ways has to stop in non conventional stations. I don´t have any Forints, a girl helps me find my way to the metro station. I have to ride the subway and pay my ticket with a credit card. Finally got to Nyugati station. I miss the train to Szeged for 1 minute so I have to wait for an hour for the next one. Prices are accessible now so I can buy something decent to eat. Another two hours and half of crossing Hungary to the south. When I get to Szeged, Marus receives me with a kiss. I am happy. My journey has reached an end. I have crossed Europe flying by bus.

Interview with Ineke Houtman: Dutch Filmmaker.

So I was in Amsterdam. I crossed the Netherlands in my way to Hungary so speaking about the Netherlands, I thought I would share this interview with you. The Opening Night film, of the Reel 2 Real International Film Festival for Youth, was the premiere of The Indian a film from the Netherlands. It’s about a boy adopted from Peru, who learns he is an Indigenous Peruvian and a descendant of the Inca people. Determined to embrace his roots, he goes on a journey of self-discovery in order to find out who he really is and where he comes from. Director Ineke Houtman talked to me about her film.

In a world full of people and technology, globalization is a logic consequence that leaves a lot of us with identity crises longing for truth. The wide gap between the north and the south has produced a lot of stories and interactions between humans of different latitudes. Migrants looking for better conditions, businessmen looking for cheaper resources. We all know the story, it has been told thousands of times. Among the victims of this predatory capitalism system and its displacements are the children. Mostly defenseless kids that are left aside because of poverty, disease or that become orphans due to the wars and the colonization of the so called third world. Many of these kids end up as soldiers, some are handicapped or orphaned, many of them die. The lucky ones are the ones that get to keep their life and escape unharmed. Few of these kids get adopted in the industrialized nations and are brought up as Europeans or as North Americans. The Indiaan is the story of one of these kids, Yaku who is brought up as a Dutch kid by his adopted parents. Then he starts to realize he is different in reality. His new friend, a Peruvian indian introduces him to his roots. The arrival of a natural born kid in the life of the family adds to the longing of discovery when he feels left alone.
It is not the first time and certainly not the last one that Ineke works with children and treats the topic of the search of origins and backgrounds. Her filmography includes films like Polleke, Sahara, Stille Nacht among other TV productions.
We chatted over the phone with Ineke Houtman and asked her to tell us a little about the context of the movie.

The idea came from a film about a boy from Peru that wanted to become the king of Peru and Ninke Klumpmaker, the screenwriter thought it was a interesting scene, that is how she got the idea for the script. The story is entirely fictional. She made up the story by herself and we developed it together. We were interested in the Inca culture and we investigated more about that topic. We also wanted to develop the search of the boy and how he tries to find out who he is. I wanted to make a film about a boy who finds his roots in Holland. I didn´t want to go to Peru because of the budget so we decided to set it up in Holland. The name of the kid Yaku means water so we wanted to have a city which was near the water so we shot in the north of Holland.

Was it hard to get the characters?

It was difficult, I went to the Peruvian embassy when they had a party for Peruvians, I met some people, a lot of children go there for the festivities. I started my search out there and finally we got him through an adoption association movement, so we wrote an ad and several people reacted and the boy who is in it, thought it would be nice and he auditioned. He is adopted. His friend is adopted too. The main character is from Guatemala and his friend is Peruvian. The other actors are from Peru and Ecuador. The father of the boy, Amaru was in the market selling his sweaters.

Language barriers
The boys are really Dutch, they grew up here so they see themselves as Dutch. At the Peruvian embassy I met an indian from Peru I went with him through all the ceremonies and rituals that were on the film, I wanted to be really authentic and he helped me with the Quechua language and the rituals. He was there while we were doing the shootings.

Stereotypes
We wanted to play a little bit with the stereotypes. Several Indians here play music, you see them in the markets and the festivals, so is a sort of stereotype. But, the market is where the main character meets and sees his own face. He goes into a society to see that people are diverse and he meets these people in the street. During the film he finds out that he is different but at the same time, he is also the same. At the end of the film, the concept of family is really important, family are the people that love you and what is even more important is to love them. The concept of family is different now that a 100 years ago. In Holland friends come together very often, sometimes they are more important than their brothers and sisters, so it was really important for me to show that the family has to be together.

The message to the target audience is the family?
The concept of loving other people, the people that you love are your family, in that sense.
I have made a lot of films with children, with actors and the last film that I am working on now is about a 13 years old girl with her grandpa robs a bank, but she is the only girl of colour in her family and she is also a search of her origins but it is completely different to the Indiaan.

Can you say Eyjafjallajokull? You better because now it has become part of history. The Icelandic volcano grounded thousands of airplanes and shut down airports across Europe. But I survived the volcanic eruption, eventhough I was in Manchester. One of the world´s capital of music, better known as Madchester, the cradle of sounds like Joy Division, Happy Mondays, Inspiral Carpets, Stone Roses, Oasis, among others. The volcano spat ash and glass harmful for the planes, it can get inside and kill the engine plummeting the passangers to a certain death. That deadly scenario almost happened one time over South Asia. So 600,000 flights were cancelled, more than one million of people were stranded and millions of Euros, Pounds and Dollars were lost so you better learn to pronounce it. His sister Katla is easier to pronounce but far more dangerous, bigger and menancing. It hasn´t exploded yet but there is always a possibility.

So I was stuck in Manchester staying at Enrique´s place which was good for my finances, because otherwise it would have been devastated. In Manchester I saw a couple of local acts and a very good Polish band called Warsaw Village Band, I interview the band who have played in Vancouver a couple of times before. So I had a blast in Manchester while I watched flight after flight get cancelled until mine was. So I was supposed to be in Hungary one Monday and I was stuck in Manchester. Well, to make a bad situation good, I went to visit Liverpool and the home of the Beatles.

So I had to travel across Europe in a bus because the airports were a total chaos. In Britain, there were 300,000 britons stranded around the world. I heard many horror stories from the guy that was stuck in an airport for a week like that movie The Terminal eating airport food and shitting in the public washroom to the couple that planned their wedding for three years in a paradisiac Caribbean island only to see their dreams shattered. Then there were the sad stories, people waiting to have bone marrow transplants and couldn´t make it, people that lost their jobs or thier exams because they could not get back home on time. The airport here was eire lonely, like a Ballard short story, the skies were clear, sunny and we finally know with certainty that airplanes are major polluters. Maybe we are reaching at the end of an era. The already bankrupt airlines lost massive amounts of money.

All this in the midst of an electoral campaign in Great Britain to renew the parliament and the Prime Minister. The incumbent Gordon Brown is in hot water after he called a grandma bigot when he thought he was away from the microphones, but he forgot to turn it off. Its the latest blow to the Labour Party that has been trailing the Conservative Party and the Democrat Liberals who has the newest start in the British politics in the persona of Nick Clegg who has dominated the debates and seems likely to stop the conservative David Cameron. Which is good because the British conservatives are as bad as their Canadian counterparts and they have all the vices of the right wing. Generally there has always been two traditional parties in the UK, the conservatives like Margaret Thatcher that punished the workers and the Argentineans and the Labour Party who had Tony Blair who left his post to Gordon Brown, but nevertheless, the Labour ended up liking war as much as then previous governement. Now for the British a light shines in the figure of Nick Clegg. Immigration and economy are the key points in the May 6^th elections and a war in Afghanistan that 60% of Britons dislike.

So I embarked in a three day journey across Europe leaving this country in the middle of a political and economical mess. I am still waiting for my air ticket refund.

What happened to the mascots of an important sporting event that took place in Vancouver during the month of February?
Sumi, the orca, went  to New Foundland for a holiday to spend some of its well deserved, hard earned money only to be blunderoged by a hunter that took him for a seal. Shame!
Quatchi, the sasquatch ended up in the Downtown Eastside shooting heroin after a date gone bad. He now lives in the streets and sleeps under a bridge close to Crab park. Pity!
The bear with wings developed a great ego proper of the stars, he was tasered to death at the YVR when he came back from a tour after an altercation with policemen who didn’t believe the furry creature was a legal resident of Canada. They claimed he was a terrorist threat. Outrageous!
The marmot died in a logging incident. His file says he died of natural causes. Regretful!
VANOC still laughs at the fact that they made so much money for THEMSELVES while Campbell slashes programs for the poor. Sad!

After the Olympics Harper ran out of diversions to hide his agenda, so he tried to change the lyrics of the national anthem. Oh Canada!
Oh but wait! I forgot VANOC and Harper are not mascots.

The vehicle was returned in perfect condition except for a 1 centimetre chip on the windshield caused by a stone or rock. I had an estimate done by a professional windshield repairman called Too Nice Autoglass who saw the vehicle and said the regular charge for that repair was 50 dollars, Speedy and other companies charged between 50 and 80 dollars including labour. He told me since the chip was less than the size of a loonie it could be repaired WITHOUT the NEED TO CHANGE THE WINDSHIELD. He could do it for 25 dollars. Budget said they HAD to replace the windshield and I had to pay the FULL deductible 300 dollars plus 25 dollars administrative fees. Well, since I was not going to get one of those payday loans, I had to try and fight the charges.

8.- They rented a car that probably should have been recalled. According to The Associated Press. Date: Wednesday Jan. 28, 2009 11:49 AM ET
NEW YORK — Toyota is recalling 58,400 of its Yaris subcompact in Canada as part of a recall of 1.3 million of the cars worldwide due to a seat belt defect. The automaker says in severe front-end collisions, the seat belt is at risk of causing a foam pad in the vehicle to ignite.
9.- More than two weeks had passed and I had not recieved any paper work on the mail regarding the charges or the work done on the car.
BBB of Mainland B.C.
(Vancouver, BC)
788 Beatty Street, Suite 404
Vancouver, BC V6B 2M1
Phone: (604)682-2711
Fax: (604)681-1544
Email: contactus@mbc.bbb.org
Web: http://mainlandbc.bbb.org

I arrived at Riga after more than 12 hours in a bus from Moscow that traveled overnight.

Riga is the capital city of Latvia, one of the Baltic countries that were part of the USSR along with Lithuania and Estonia. The city center is very beautiful. Like a lot of European cities, it combines the old feeling with a modern atmosphere. They try to incorporate the contemporary in the classic buildings. The centre is full of tourists and beautiful people everywhere. Nice patios and a couple of medieval and gothic churches decorate the town. There are big murals and a modernist building which houses the museums of interventions where they vilify Russians and Germans as the enemies of the state, despite the fact that 30% of the population of this country is Russian.I stayed in a nice little hostel in the middle of the center. Everything was swell. Suave.I visited the city, the churches, drank beer in the main plaza on a huge patio, worked a little bit, have lunch, walked and walked. The plan was to stay two or three days. But the last day,

The songs exploded, the place was full. All 40 spectators were there.  Mostly rocker kids and a couple of sinister fellows, which I think were pretty responsible for my after party treatment, but I generally don´t notice bad looking, bold, big guys. Not my type.

I was eating in a bar when a strange guy heard that I was asking for a concert to film. I had the video camera with me because I shot that day a lot of cool footage of the city. The material which now is lost. I had my laptop because I was working. The strange guy, and I mean strange because he was wearing a suit and a tie and was recommending a hard rock band, maybe I should´ve suspected of a guy in a tie. So the only problem, he said, is that the band plays outside of the centre, their name was rusa gruppa and was supposed to be one of the biggest bands in the underground movement of Riga. A mix of Latvian punk with heavy rock and a social conscience he told me. Latvia doesn´t seem like a dangerous place, although I translated a documentary about Latvian nationalism and it wasn´t funny. I didn´t see the signs nor  listened to my interior voice. So I grabbed a taxi that took me to the other side of the bridge, where poverty looms on top of every roof of the communist like buildings, their dwellers shriek with hopelessness as their country goes broke. We get to a small bar on a corner. The band was waiting for me already and pushed me into the bar as quickly as they could. I felt like probably there was a threat luring outside. Its like those werewolves movies where everybody stays at the bar at night because outside they could get killed by these man-like creatures.

I feel a big arm, like if a bear was attacking me from the back

So I filmed the band who didn´t really fit the description that was given to me. They were big, hairy, a cross between a Latvian biker and an inbred drug user trucker from Oklahoma. They played loud, they put meat on the table with potatoes, it was for free, but it turned to be the most expensive dinner of my life. The songs exploded, the place was full. All 40 spectators were there.  Mostly rocker kids and a couple of sinister fellows, which I think were pretty responsible for my after party treatment, but I generally don´t notice bad looking, bold, big guys. Not my type. Plus they all look the same. Big, bold and mean. So I am there doing my creative shots and everybody is so nice to me and for some of them it was the first time they have ever seen a Mexican in their lives, which later kept happening around Eastern Europe. Strange as it sounds there are a lot of places yet to be discovered by the Mexicans. So I am leaving, I asked the bartender to call me cab, a young kid, another Latvian buys me a vodka goodbye. So I have my laptop and the video camera and some excellent footage of Latvians in their natural habitat. So I am out of the bar, go to the corner, like 50 meters from the bar and suddenly

I feel a big arm, like if a bear was attacking me from the back, I turned back and start feeling punches, I am on the ground, they kick me a little, I see the shadows of three skinheads, Latvians neonazis, I think they are pissed, then I get up while one tells me some gibberish in his language, then tries to grab the bag with the camera and the laptop, I tell them in English that they can´t take my tools away, I need them to work, one of them tries again and I punch him out of frustration and I started blowing punches until they grab me again and then I felt a metallic blow in my eyebrow, in the right corner of the left eye. Could have been a ring. Fucking Skinheads.

All I remember was watching the dark sky on my back unable to get up, unable to move, then is all blank… I don´t remember how I got to the police. I remember leaning against a wall. I remember telling them everything at the station, and frustrated because they just sat there, they didn´t  go looking for the guys that just robbed my stuff. They must have been known to the police. But police is also very nationalist in that country, they don´t like foreign people, they don´t like tourists that much. Anyways, here I am making a statement to the Latvian police, “what do you want us to do” they asked me like I was asking for a piece of the moon, Do your work, go find my stuff  I was telling them while my eye was getting bigger and bigger and darker and darker, kind of purplish. So they threw me out of the station after I told them what I thought about their system and that they were better off with USSR, this would not have happened to me if the soviets were in charge I told them  (nor the rock concert probably) I thought.

So I have to come back to tell them that the least they could do was to take me to my hostel as I didn´t have the slightest idea where I was. It was like 5 in the morning, the sun was barely lighting and a solitary tram broke the tranquility of the deserted street. They took me to the hostel, went up to my room to sleep, Next day Jelena and Emmils, two cool Latvians friends of a friend came to see me. Noon, my eye is big, I feel like the elephant man, every part of my body aches, seems like they kicked me everywhere. They invite me lunch, brought me a yellow towel, (A towel, according to the Hitchhiker´s Guide to the Galaxy, is the most important thing for a traveler, or someone in trouble like myself at that moment). They took me to the police station so I could collect the statement. That was Friday, I was stranded in Riga without money…
To be continued…