Week Six

The Denver Mile High Music Festival is rapidly approaching.  In 2009 I entered my name into a KBCO radio drawing and won two VIP passes!  (I sold one of them because my sweetheart was unable to go due to US Immigration Services denying his I-539, but I will save immigration complaints for another blog.) I took the other and enjoyed three days of music, cruising from stage to stage.  It was that festival where I first saw Gogol Bordello, a gypsy-punk band with members that hail from all over the world.  I saw them a second time in Fort Collins and finally got to see them with Hugo last weekend in Brisbane. They were as energetic as ever, I worked up a good sweat by dancing and punching the air at opportune moments, and even a couple of people got thrown out for disorderly conduct.  A pretty good formula for a successful show.  One funny thing about the concert is that it was on Good Friday and because of some clause in the venue's liquor-license, no alcohol could be served.  It was comical to see all of the alternative kids, hippies and punks drinking soda and juice instead of PBR and Makers.  Hugo and I caught the last bus to our neighborhood and called it a night.

Another day that was good, but not in that holy sort of way was this past Tuesday.  It began with needles and it ended with me yelling in French to a dog.

I have been curious about acupuncture since the summer of '98, when I worked in Manhattan.  142 months later, I find myself in Indooroopilly, Australia, getting needles put into my lower back and legs in hopes to reduce tension, increase blood supply and encourage healing from a back injury I had in December.  I arrived by train a bit early and so I dashed into a thrift store which sets across the street from the clinic.  Amazingly enough, I came across a Macbook power adapter that I was going to buy from an Apple store.  I paid $1.  One.  Hell yes.  I also purchased some blank sheet music paper for Thibaut.  He arrives in six days and has thus put an end to the question "who will be the first person to visit Benjie & Hugo in Australia?"  [bon voyage, Tibo!]

After the relaxing and helpful appointment, I went to the library to search for French movies playing in town.  I found "Welcome" with Vincent Lindon.  During the most climactic moment of the movie, the fire alarm went off.  I immediately grabbed my backpack and headed to the stairs.  [Memory interlude: Conover Road Elementary.  Colts Neck, New Jersey.  1986.  After "don't do drugs" and "don't accept candy from strangers" probably the most popular phrase engrained into the minds of youngsters was "stop, drop and roll".  Along with this was the lesson to immediately evacuate a building when you hear a fire alarm.  Immediately.  No stopping for your sticker collection.  (it was the 80s)] Nobody else in the cinema budged.  It reminded me of the dorm fire that occurred when I was in Trier, Germany, ten years ago.  In the middle of the cold night, I heard the loud alarm--and I mean LOUD.  Those Germans don't mess around.  I jumped into my Pumas, didn't take any time to add layers to my simple t-shirt and shorts ensemble and hurried to the stairs.  Down I went.  I was absolutely shocked by the fact that many people were just watching me in their doorways and weren't leaving their rooms!  Once I got outside to the ground-level (I think I was on the third floor, meaning fourth level), I first saw my breath in the winter weather and then I turned to see the flames in a second-level bedroom window.  Finally--as people caught wind (or smoke) that there actually was a fire--more people started coming outside.  Numerous individuals even carried suitcases with belongings in tow.  I was so confused; I remember thinking "what the hell are they doing? get out, get out now!"  It was fascinating to be in a completely different country, ten years later, experiencing something similar.  Except, this time there wasn't a real fire and it wasn't zero degrees. 

So, after everything was cleared and OK'd by the firemen, we were able to finish our movie.  As if needles and fires weren't enough, I had to deal with an unruly dog on my way home.  It was a smaller dog, but it quickly came at me in the dark and was jumping and snapping.  It scared the hell out of me.  For some reason,  I hit the ground with my foot and yelled "Arrête!" (which means 'stop' in French).  I guess he parle Français because he left me alone.  Did it freak me out?  Abso-bloody-lutely.

Aussie expressions of hunger:
---my belly thinks me throat's cut
---i could eat a horse and chase the rider

Rhyming slang:
Australians are quite playful with their language.  There are certain words that rhyme and replace others.  For instance, You could say "I'm on the Al Capone".  This would mean you're on the phone.  Or, "Grab some rifle range and get some red hots" would mean "Grab some change and get some (pots of) beer".  You can "hit the frog and toad" which means you are going to hit the road.  Hopefully, as I experience this more often, I will be able to explain it better and provide more examples...

Stop, drop and roll,
Benjie.