Amsterdam-Budapeste-Buenos Aires-Tanger-Pokara-Osaka
I’m
Amsterdam, inside some kind of coffee-shop, and at the same time, I’m
in Budapeste, I’m in Buenos Aires, I’m in Tanger, I’m in
Pokhara and I’m in Osaka, at the Osaka-wan, this is, the Osaka bay.
And then, I’m back
in Amsterdam, and so, here I’m, at the Babylon coffeeshop, this is,
I’m here drinking tea with some friends, one guy from Kashmir,
Salim, another from Argentina, José, and one American girl, named
June, from Des Mones, Iowa. And, while we smoke that shit, we are
sharing our stories, Saalim says that he is actually working in
Berlin, “at various humanitarian organizations for the defense of
human rights, animal rights and alien rights too”. June, the
American, says that she came for a small trip in Europe, “London,
Amsterdam and Paris… this is, I visited London already, and so, to
come here, I took a ferry from Southend-on-Sea to the Hook of
Holland, which is close to Rotterdam''. José says “I myself, I
came to Spain to work in a restaurant, saved almost all the money I
did in one year, and I’m now traveling around Europe… and then I
wanna go to Australia”. I say, “I’m from Africa, and here I
came by mistake”, and well, there is some giggling after my words,
and then we continue, And then we start a conversation about
the difference between the British, the Australians and the
Americans. Saalim called the English hooligans. June called the
Australians lazy and too laid back. José says that “the Americans
are too presumptuous and ignorant” and me, well, I give them some
examples, like “between Harry Potter, Crocodile Dundee and
Slipknot, I prefer the last ones, it makes more sense to me…”
Then I’m in Budapest, more precisely, going across the Széchenyi
bridge, also called the Chain bridge, a bridge that makes you cross
from Buda to Pest, and then, as I lean against the bridge railings, 2
staring at the river flows down there. Now at Retiro, in Buenos
Aires, and then at La
Recoleta cemetery,
where I see some shabby girls and shabby boys doing some weird tango
steps in betweens the graves and the tombs, and then, as they notice
my presence, instantly, they start to throw broken jars of flowers in
my direction, and I, in order to protect myself, I have to hide in
the back of some tombstone, and so, while I’m hiding here, I see
the tombstone of Eva Peron, an important character in this country,
it seems, and thus, while I analyze this big tomb I’m already
reading an inscription that says “Los hombres de gobierno,
dirigentes políticos, embajadores, hombres de empresa,
profesionales, intelectuales, etc., que aquí me visitan suelen
llamarme “Señora”; y algunos hasta me llaman "Excelente o
Honorable Señora", pero los descamisados sólo me conocen como
"Evita". Por eso, cuando un niño me llama "Evita"
me siento madre de toda la gente débil y humilde de mi tierra, y por
eso, incluso después de muerta, quiero que así me recuerden, Evita
de los Toldos”, what can be translated as “Government men,
political leaders, ambassadors, company men, professionals,
intellectuals, etc., who visit me here usually call me "Madam";
and some even call me "Excellent or Most Honorable Madam",
but the shirtless ones only know me as "Evita". So, when a
boy calls me "Evita" I feel like a mother to all the weak
and humble people in my land, and so, even after death, I wanna be
remembered like that, Evita de los Toldos”. Now going through
the Grand Socco, in Tanger, a piazza/night market, at the top of one
of the city's central hills, an intersection of rue de la Plage with
rue d'Italie with avenue Sidi Bou Arraquia with rue Sidi Bouabid with
rue d'Angleterre and rue de la Liberté. And so, here I go, tripping
over old trinkets displayed on the cobbled floor around some kind of
broken fountain, and then, analysing some old magazines written in
arab and berber, magazines about the personal life of european
royalty figures. And then, somehow, I’m landing on the shores of
the Phewa Lake, in Pokhara, Nepal. This is, after wandering a bit
through some muddy areas watching the water buffalos, I just sit here
at a terrace overlooking the lakeside, a terrace decorated with the
some sort of triangular flags hanging from 3 bamboo canes, that kind
of flags with tibetan writings, and so, I’m here with Rama, a local
personage that spent the bigger part of his life in Europe and
America, this is, after some acknowledgements, here he goes, already
exposing his life path to me, “Well, as many…” he says “when
I was a kid, I was some kind of shepherd, this is, I passed my time
wandering through these mountains, guarding sheps and water buffalos,
then, with the experience i got from that wandering, in my teens,
I started working in the trekking business, thi is, I guided groups
of tourists through these mountains, along the banks of the Evarest,
until the border with Bhutan and Arunachal Pradesh, in India… and
then, in my early twenties, when I could already speak some good
English and German… they would take me for a tripin Europe,
and so, I tried to live there, I mean, it was difficult in the
beginning, I mean, German was too cold for me… and I also found
that people too big, I mean, I couldn’t get a proper girlfriend…
and so, here I came back, but then, I would return, I mean, not to
Europe this time, I did try the United States of America, but, that
would even turn worse than my staying in Europe, even so, I tried to
work there, this is, I passed trough many cities, Boston,
Philadelphia, Memphis, Dallas, Phoenix, but I hated Texas, and so, I
went down, into Mexican lands… i would appreciate more that people,
even so, I tried to go more down,this is I was missing the mountains,
I couldnt stand the deserts, so, I would visit almost all central
american countries, Colombia, Ecuador, and then, when I already could
speak some proper spanish, it would be in Peru that I would
find my house and family, more precisely in Cusco, a mountainous city
that would remind my home-town here”. And then I’m in Osaka, this
is, after getting out of the Imamiya Ebisu train station, I’m
passing in front of the Jinja-shrine, being Jinja, they say, the god
of the business, and then, I also get to know that, worshippers
come here to seek the Fukusasa, a lucky bamboo branch that is tied
with a small treasure called the “Kitcho”, a thing awarded by the
shrine. And I’m in Amsterdam again, still here with Salim, José,
and June. This is, we are properly stoned now, and so, after getting
out of the Babylon coffeeshop, we walk by the channels, more
precisely the Singel channel, we pass the Torensluis bridge, where
there is a statue of Multatuli, a famous Dutch writer from the
eighteenth century, better known for his satirical novel Max
Havelaar, June just
checked it on her mobile phone, and José wants us to take photo of
him strangling the neck of mr Multatuli. Then we go along the narrow
street Oude Leliestraat, on our left is Puccini, a chocolate shop,
and on our right is the Grey Area coffeeshop, the front wall around
the display case, totally covered with sticks, and inside almost the
same, the walls almost totally covered with papers with small notes,
in many colors, and a punk with red mohawk, red leather jacket,
shorts and slippers show us some kind of sardonical smile. Then 4 we
pass “Pane & Olio”, another delicatess store, followed by
“Sari-Sari”, a Filipino store, and on the opposite side is “Pho
Hanoi - Vietnamese cuisine” and “Samui - Thai streetfood”. Then
a couple of cafes more, and at the end of the street on the right
side, the “Amsterdam Duck Store, a gift shop with small Rubber
ducks of all shapes and colors, many personalities and attributes.
José and June go inside, looking for their side personalities. Me
and Salim stay outside, on the entrance, commenting on the people
passing by. Then we go across another bridge, many bicycles attached
to the side rails, as usual, and we enter Leliegracht, a street
parallel to another chanel, the first store is a hairdresser and
then, the “Cow Museum” a gift shop with all kinds of handmade
painted cows, with different expressions and capabilities. Then “The
Otherist”, another gift shop with small insects made of coloured
glass. Then an art gallery, followed by a couple of chic hostels with
small gardens on the front, a pizza store and “Cafe Brandon”,
offering a large range of wines, beers and spirits, and José is
making questions to home English guy, drinking a pot of beer, and
after he call June to clarify something the english guy is saying,
and me and Salim are already leaving, crossing another bridge over a
different channel. We pass “Solitude”, a jewelry store and “Café
Sandro”, then a couple of restaurants plus, and we get to another
crossroad and another bigger channel. We pass the Tulip Museum, and
the Amsterdam Cheese Museum, turn left, pass the Café 't Smalle and
go along Egelantiersgracht, pass a couple of art galleries more and
then we reach the Electric Ladyland - Museum of Fluorescent Art, and
we make another join, before entering. And then, at the end of the
Széchenyi bridge, in Budapest, I begin a chat with this guy selling
Lángos, a kind of deep fried flatbread, and then, at some point,
he’s actually saying, “The siege of Buda by the Ottoman Empire,
occurred on the 4th of May 1541, and was led by Suleiman Pacha…
this is, John I of Hungary had just died, and his son John II, who
was at that time a minor, was crowned king under the regency of his
mother Isabella Jagiellon and bishop George Martinuzzi. This was
accepted by the Ottomans, under the condition that the Hungarians
would continue to pay tribute to the Ottoman Sultanate... The new
king was however not accepted by the Habsburgs. Then, Ferdinand I,
Austrian Archduke and a Habsburg, sent an army of fifty thousand,
composed of troops from Austria, German Principalities, Bohemia, and
Habsburg Hungary to besiege Buda. The army besieged Buda in Summer
1541. But… Suleiman the Magnificent took personal command of an
Ottoman relief army which included around six thousand Janissaries…
and so, the Habsburg army was defeated, their men were slaughtered or
drowned into this river… down this bridge…” he says with a
smile on his face. But, coming back to Buenos Aires now, this is,
after leaving the Recoleta
cemetery, I go through the city, and at some point, I enter a garden
with the statue of two men, one with open arms and the other with an
open mouth, a statue untitled “Monumento A 5 La Duda - Monument To
The Doubt”. Then I’m Tanger again, this is, after leaving the
Grand Socco, I go through the Bab Al Fahs, this is, the inspection
door, coz yeah, now I’m entering the so-called medina itself, and
then, as I go down down Rue d'Italie, I pass some shops selling hats,
belts, bags, scarfs, leather goods, small shops specializing in Argan
oil, and then, across the street there is this small snack bar, here
called kantina, or hanut, a place where you can get some cheap
traditional meals, like the Harira, a chickpeas lentils soap;
the Harcha or Harsha, a popular Moroccan pastry made of semolina,
honey, goat cheese, zitoun (olives), and Bissara, a Egyptian dish
that contains split fava beans, onions, garlic, fresh aromatic herbs
and spices like cumin, ginger, turmeric, paprika, cayenne and
chilli (harissa). And then, as I pass by on the side of the Mendoubia
garden, this is, the gardens around the the Mendoub
(a ceremonial mansion of the representative of the Sultan of Morocco
in the Tangier
International Zone from 1924 to 1956) I pass a series of fruit
shops, selling a range of fruits like persimmon, black figs,
mandarins, pointy plums, nectarines, dates, strawberry, lemon,
apples, pomegranate, huge watermelons, grapes, bananas, cherries,
dragon cactus-fruit, avocado, mangoes, and also you can drink ready
made juices made of sugar cane, kiwi or carob ( (which Morocco is
leading the world exports), and then as I follow along Rue de la
Kasbah, I pass a couple of clothes shops more, with some more shawls,
some more carpets, and then some bijoux stores, stores with fancy
decorative stones that also sell nail clippers and kettles, and then
after the salon the thé Excelsior, there is the Medina Media that
can sell you many kind of analog camcorders, almost all in second
hand, the restaurant Hammadi, the Western Union office, the bank
Popolair, this is, the Alshaeb bank, the Dar el Kasbah hotel, the
barber Chez Mounir, and then as I turn right I go through a series of
narrow streets with small grocery stores, souvenir shops, small
cafes, men sitting at tables playing games like the felli, the fetaix
and the blackgammon, everybody drinking mint teas and smoking non
stop, and then, as I go down through this tangle of narrow crooked
streets, chased by kids selling eggs and hard candy, at some point I
reach the Bab Albahr, this is, the sea door, overlooking the Strait
of Gibraltar. And then, I’m aboard a small rowing boat going across
the Phewa Lake in Pokhara, still accompanied with my friend Rama and
his sister, Binsa, and so, we are actually getting to the Tal Barahi
temple, being Barahi one of the Matrikas of a group of seven mother
goddesses in the Hindu religion, Binsa tells me, and then, more
explaining, “Barahi, or Varahi is bearing the head of a
sow/wild-boar/Sus scrofa, and representing the feminine energy of
Varaha, an ultimate representation of Vishnu… Barahi, is worshiped
in the Matysa Varahi form as an incarnation of Durga… devotees
usually sacrifice male animals to the goddess on Saturdays night…
and so…”, she says. And then, I’m back in in Osaka city, Japan,
this is, I just walked from the Imamiya
Ebisu temple, where is
the Jinja-shrine, to Nanbanaka, where is the Namba Bears, a venue
place that have hosted most of the noise/punk/avantgarde famous bands
from this country, bands/projects like Hanatarash, Shonen Knife, Acid
Mothers Temple, Merzbow and Otoboke Beaver, for example, being the
first cited example an old project from Yamantaka Eye, a famous
character in the western world, and then, still here at the door of
this same club, I strike up a conversation with some local punks, and
there we go, actually talking about chinese beer, strange lizards,
Mitsubishy guitars, tamagotchis and the Tetsuo trilogy, I mean,
Tetsuo the Iron Man, Tetsuo
the Body Hammer; and Tetsuo the Bullet Man. And
then, somehow, the conversation changes into the medusa topic, and
so, this guy with blinking lights on the top of his 6 mohawk, is now
telling me about a certain kind of medusa that apparently live in the
Ogasawara Islands, islands situated about five hundred kilometres
south of Tokyo, and so about that he says, with his funny tamagotchi
accent, “The caldera is a hydrothermally active deep-sea volcanic
structure with a diameter of about ten kilomtres and a depth of eight
hundred meters, and…” And then, I’m back to Amsterdam, now
inside the Electric Ladyland, the Museum of Fluorescent Art, I
disappear through an exhaust port and I’m landing directly in Pest,
I mean, the opposite bank of Budapest, more precisely, on the eastern
bank of the Danube, and so, it is here, on the Stephen Széchenyi
Square in front of the city hall, that I find Ivan, now playing some
kind of spinning top game, alone, here on the lawn, a tradition left
by the Ashkenazi Jews, and so, then, about the name Pest,
that until now I thought to be related with the latin word “pestis”
meaning “plague” in english, he says that no, “Pest simply
means fish in romanian language for exemple, and in bulgarian it
means "furnace" or "oven", and peć
in Serbian and Croatian, is an expression related with the word
meaning "cave", probably with reference to a local cave
where fire burned somewhere, around here…” And as it goes, then
I’m in Buenos Aires, at “Villa 31”, a shantytown, now eating
homemade Alfajores, Garrapiñadas and Pastelitos criollos and then
I’m in Tanger again, this is, I’m not really in Tanger city now,
I have walked about ten kilometres by the sea, this is, the western
part of the Gibraltar Straight, and so, along the way I have passed
through iconic places like the phéniciennes tombes, the Ami Mounir
et Madjda Hotel, the Merkala Beach, also going by the name Cove of
Jews, the Sidi Masmoudi cemetery, and then the Rmilat Forest,
formerly known as Villa Aidonia or Perdicaris Park, named after Ion
Hanford Perdicaris, a Greek-American author, professor, lawyer,
painter, and playwright, who fought for the rights of Moors, and
would end up kidnapped from his house, actually situated somewhere in
this park, and then, eventually, I would reach the so-called Cape
spartel, where is the Hercules' Caves, already by the Atlantic coast,
where I meet a group of young French guys on their way to the Gnaoua
music Festival, a festival taking place in Essaouira, a city seven
hundred kilometers down from here. And as we talk about that, then,
I’m already landing at the Tal Barahi temple, a temple in the
middle of the Phewa Lake again, in Pokhara, and so, at this point I
see some pregnant women around, some crying flowers from the water to
the temple itself, others burning incense, others bringing oferends
like Kwāti, a soup of different kind of beans, chhoyalā,
buffalo meat marinated in spices and grilled over the flames of dried
wheat stalks, wo, lentil cake, mye, boiled and fried tongue, sanyā
khunā, jellied fish soup, and Thwon, some kind of rice beer, and so
I try some of this things while I see women, rubbing themselves
against the pillars of this same temple, spreading their secretions
around. And then, coming back to Osaka, this is, now I’m inside the
Namba Bears club in Osaka, I meet its proprietor, Seiichi Yamamoto,
who was one of the guitarists from the Boredoms, until circa 2000’s
when he left and founded Rovo, with Yuji Katsui (Bondage Fruit),
Yasuhiro Yoshigaki and Youichi Okabe (on drums and percussion), and
Jin Harada on bass guitar. And so, we talk about the Phoenix
Rising LP, his last collaboration album with Steve
Hillage, a guitarist associated with the Canterbury scene, Steve that
has worked in experimental domains since the late sixties as a member
of Uriel, Khan, Gong and System 7, his last project. And then, we
would talk about others projects he have collaborated with, like
Omoide Hatoba, Rashinban, Live Under The Sky, Most, Para, Novo Tono
and many, many others, and I may say, Yamamoto-san has an very
enigmatic, opaque way of speaking, that can feel simultaneously very
warm and somehow off-putting.
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