On tour, Brussels

OCTOBER 2010

Simon got a two week tour opening for the band Morcheeba. They are a London based band with a solid fan base in Europe and the States. Simon played solo to crowds of 1500-3000.

Django and I got to join him for the second week. We took the fast train from London to Brussels (less than two hours!). The train goes over 200 miles per hour.



Checking in to our hotel in Brussels. Waiting for Simon to arrive. He drove himself around Europe for the tour. He was traveling from Germany that day and had a problem with the car so had to drive to rental locations in two cities to sort it out. Suddenly he finds himself in Frankfurt with a four hour drive in front of him and two hours to sound check, 4 hours to stage time!



I hustled over to the venue to talk with the promoter. It was a very quick walk through what seemed like might be a charming city. Had I had more than 30 rushed minutes hustling through the beautiful streets, I could report to you if my sense was right.



About sixty percent of the Belgian population speaks Dutch, or Flemish. Most others speak French with a small percentage speaking German. Brussels though is primarily French speaking.







We arrive at the venue. I communicate with the show promoter. He sets me and sleeping boy up in Simon's backstage room for the long wait.



I left my book at the hotel, so to pass the time in a more entertaining way I took some artsy photos.



Every venue will provide snacks and drinks for the performers in their room. This was an odd choice: Wine and...candy?



Checking out backstage.



During the several hours we waited at the venue, I repeatedly received mildly panicked calls from Simon who was not sure he would make the gig. I was terribly nervous as well and kept running communications to the promoter. Morcheeba agreed to push their show 15 minutes. It was all they could do, as they would be driving back to London that night (well the tour bus driver would be driving, they would be sleeping).
So this meant that Simon had the stage for 30 minutes between 8:00-8:45. It looked like he might not arrive before 8:20. I got a call, "I'm only 1 1/2 km away!", then 1 minute later... "I'm stuck behind a line of red tail lights, there's no way out!!"
Harrowing. I gathered the promoter and we went outside to meet Simon as he finally pulled up. He jumped out of the car, a quick hello to me and Django, a stage hand grabbed his guitar, we handed the car keys to the security guard and dashed inside. Someone opened Simon's guitar case, handed him the guitar and he went immediately onstage to the waiting crowd of 3,000. Simon got there in time to play 20 minutes. He walked out, plugged in and played an awesome set. He rocked the house from note one. Amazing!




A cozy father son reunion after the show.



The next day we were to drive to a small town in Southern Germany where we'd stay for a few days off. I had hopes of exploring Brussels in the morning, but through the night our non-smoking hotel room was permeated with the smoke of the downstairs room's all-night cigarette smoking occupants. This put us in a foul mood and precipitated an urge to get out of town (well, Simon wanted to get out of town, I just wanted to get out of our room and check out Brussels). Simon need won out (he's the one on tour after all) and soon we were on our complicated way out of town. Of all the cities I've driven in, I think Brussels might be the most complicated (more than Boston even). Loaded with one way streets, even our GPS was confused. We finally made it to the open highway and onward to Germany.

Copenhagen

OCTOBER 2010

Django looking contemplative while at a dinner party with good friends Noah, Dis and their little boy Junius



Visiting with my dear friend Brett who used to live in Southern California when I lived there. He has lived in Copenhagen for several years, and we don't get a chance to catch up in person very often.
He's the one responsible for Simon and I meeting by the way :-)



For the Americans.. this is a common site in Copenhagen. People ride bikes in all weather, all year round.



We stayed at a friend's friend's place while they were out of town. There was a center courtyard with tons of toys and bikes that people share. Here's Django at 2 1/2 trying a big bike for the first time. Not bad!



Visiting our good friends, Juan Luis and Kristin. We got to celebrate their daughters first birthday.



Look at those eyes!





Well, onward forward. Back to London we go...

Denmark- wild (and tasty)

After four days in sunny Paris, we flew back to Jutland (mainland Denmark), and back to Lissy and Knud Erik's home (Simon's mom and her partner)
The autumn leaves were painting the ground orange and red.



The magic of a Danish forest.



It just so happened that while we were in Jutland, a friend from Port Townsend was visiting her friend who lives 20 minutes from Lissy! Leah invited us to join her, her friend Nanna and Nanna's daughter for some mushroom hunting. Having never gone mushroom hunting (and being very fond of mushrooms) I was quite excited at the idea.



Here we are atop a moss covered fairy hill with our mushroom bounty. So picturesque!



We hunted mainly for golden chantarelles. Nanna brought us to her secret place where she knew we would find them. (Some people are quite protective of their mushroom spots, and won't bring 'outsiders' along unless they are blindfolded. Luckily she didn't subject us to that, or I would have felt a bit like Gimli crossing through Lothlorien).
We also collected what she called trumpet chanterelles, but they look like they might be what is called yellow foot chanterelles. She was translating from Danish, and I don't know much about mushrooms, so...



In any case, they were all very scrumptious, especially the goldens.



Another bounty we encountered was the black elderberry. Also known as Sambucus Nigra, and in Danish, Hyldebaer (the 'y' is more like an oo sound). A lot of people harvest the berries and make Hyldebaer saft, a concentrated juice. Sambucus is an age-old folk remedy used for fighting sicknesses. There have been numerous clinical studies that prove the efficacy of it in fighting the flu and other viruses.

In the summer when the trees explode with white blossoms, people make Hyldeblomst (Elderflower) saft, which when made well, is like something the elves would have made (back to Lothlorien!). Truly magical.

Here I am being quite ambitious and climbing the not-too-sturdy elderberry tree to harvest the little purple gems.



Nanna's mom making Elderberry juice.



After getting back to Lissy's house, Django and I went on another harvesting journey down the road to pick more elderberries.



Getting ready to make my own concentrate.



Cooking the berries. Well, I overcooked the first batch, but made another and it came out quite well. I made more of a syrup concentrate that was a little too sweet but still lovely. We took to putting it on our oatmeal and Django would ask for "pink oatmeal" in the morning.



Nanna's mom was so lovely to send us home with a small bottle of her Elderflower concentrate which was truly the best I'd ever had.

I decanted these into wine bottles and took them to Copenhagen, then back to London with us. Tragically, an intern at LoMax records (our home in London) threw them out while cleaning the fridge when Django and I went to Brussels to meet up with Simon on his tour. He thought it was wine gone bad. Aarrgghhh! I almost cried, then I took it as an opportunity for unattachment (and a lesson in labeling!) There's always next year!

Django and I picking some pears.



Django having some fun on a zip line in Holstebro.





Just before Simon finished his Scandinavian tour, Lissy and Knud Erik took Django and I to a house they rented just outside of Copenhagen for the weekend. Simon's brother Jonas and his girlfriend came to visit.



Simon arrived on day two. Family portrait with squirmy naked boy.



Saying goodbye to Farmor and Knud Erik in Copenhagen.

Paris!

On September 17th, Simon started a tour of Norway and Sweden, opening for Chip Taylor who had a few huge hits as a songwriter including "Wild Thing" and "Angel of the Morning" (he's also actor Jon Voight's brother, and uncle to Angelina Jolie).

I decided to take a side trip to Paris for a few days with Django to visit our good friends Ann and Bill (from Los Angeles) who've been living in France for over a year. I found a reasonable fare on the Eurostar fast train, then a flight to Denmark where we would stay with Simon's mom for the remainder of his two week Scandinavian tour.

The fast train is a marvel. You can get really good deals if you buy tickets in advance and go from London to Paris in two hours!. If you took a bus it would take 8-9 hours. The train goes up to 200 mph!

Here's Django checking out the scenery whizzing by.



Paris. Ok, first things first. Cafe au lait and pastry. Yum!



About coffee in France. You can get a predictably good cup of coffee just about anywhere, as long as you order a cafe au lait (On my first trip to Paris several years ago, I made the mistake of ordering a cappuccino and it was the only bad coffee I've ever had in France. Those French are damn proud, so don't ask for foreign coffee for God's sake!). It must be some kind of birthright, a nice cup o' joe. Maybe the coffee making practices are nationally standardized, because a cafe au lait tastes pretty much the same everywhere you go. Luckily, it's yummy, especially when accompanied by pain chocolat!

Django and I returned to this cafe on another day and had baguette sandwiches.



In the subway.


'
The subways in Paris feel a lot less civilized than the Underground in London. I think the French in general are less "civilized" than the British, but I'm not sure if that is putting it right. There is a very distinctly different energy to the two cities despite both being very cosmopolitan and geographically close. Honestly, I have a strong preference for London, or better put, I really like London, and I really don't care for Paris too much. London is a huge, vibrant city with anything you want and an abundance of wonderful parks. So you can get away fairly easily to a quiet space. Paris strikes me as a very frenetic city with no place to rest (except for the cemetery, which I loved-- see below...) It is beautiful though, and you can hardly turn around without running into some wonderful historical site. I think I would have preferred Paris about 100 years ago or so, or maybe in the 1950s...

There is something admirable about the French attitude though -- they tend to put up with less crap and will protest and take to the streets on issues that effect their lives. My friend Ann also told me that it's the Parisian way to fight with your neighbor over any big or small issue, but at the end of the day, you are still friends and there's no problem. If you don't fight, you must not care!


A nice day in the park. We were extremely fortunate with the weather during our visit. It was in the 70s and sunny everyday. Unfortunately we were both fighting a flu and I had very little energy for two of the four days, so mostly stayed in.



At the Parc des Butte Chaumont, a wonderful park with waterfalls and a belvedere sitting atop a rocky island.



View from the top. Montmartre in the distance.



View of Montmartre (where many 19th and early 20th century artists including Renoir, Monet, Toulouse-Lautrec, Matisse, and Dali lived and had studios). The charming hill is also home to the Sacré-Cœur Basilica. (also the setting of the films Amélie, La Vie En Rose, and Moulin Rouge)



I would have liked to visit Montmartre but thought better of it, what with our cheap travel stroller and all those (damn) charming cobblestones.



The bustle of a sprawling multi-street flea market. I didn't have the energy, or room in my luggage to browse, but it looked pretty cool.





Ah, Cimetière du Père-Lachaise. For Django, we called it The Stone Park.
You could wander for hours and not see all of the stones. It is the largest cemetery in Paris at 118 acres (I have just read that there are 300,000 people buried there!)

Ann, Django and I went for a walk on an absolutely perfect weather day. The smell of fallen autumn leaves was in the air and it was utterly peaceful.



We didn't bother picking up the map at the entrance which tells where all of the famous people's graves are. We decided to keep our eyes open for Jim Morrison's grave, and Ann knew the general vicinity. At one point I had the bright idea of following some aging hippies (they'll know where his grave is!), but we lost their trail after a bit.

So many amazing neo-gothic mausoleums.



Django wandering in and around the graves. Ann came up with some clever game for him where the point was to stay off the stones. Worked rather well.



Many of the sites are in an advanced state of disrepair.











Ann and Django enjoying a bagette.



Django showing that he was ready with backpack to go out with mama on our last day there.



The Seine



Notre Dame Cathedral. No matter what angle you take a picture from, you just can't capture the grandeur and impressive scale of it.



Now THAT'S a door!



So impressive, but again, you just can't tell how huge it is from a picture.





There were these little birds outside the cathedral that would land on your hand and eat. Django kept saying he wanted to try, but shied away from it, understandably.







The Jardin du Luxembourg







I want that apartment. Yeah, the one on the top floor. Or what the heck, I'll take the top two floors!



Django having some water (out of a wine glass no less) at the most overpriced, mediocre French diner we had the misfortune to stroll into. There was a communication problem (not mine I will maintain) and the waitress brought me an extra entree that I didn't order. We kept it after she rolled her eyes at me, and tried to make the most of it. I wouldn't have ordered the pommes frites (that's french fries) if I'd known they were over 7 bucks for a side order! The irony is, I was trying to get an inexpensive lunch by going there.

(while writing this, Django just saw the picture and asked "What was Django drinking, water or wine?" After I said "water", he said "no, Django was drinking wine!" I can assure you he wasn't...)



Django and mama enjoying some truly scrumptious gelato.



Back to the Seine. This is a walking bridge where couples, in an expression of their unbreakable bonds of love, write their names on locks and secure them to the fence.





Outside the Louvre. We were rushing to get back to the apartment and pack to leave, so no chance to see any art.



Woohoo! Space to run!





The beautiful and astoundingly detailed 16th century architecture of the Louvre Palace.



Where next?...



Au Revoir Paris, next stop Denmark.