Pt.2 The Festival

Wakanada Forever

There is something really magical about travelling to a country you don't know for the first time... ESPECIALLY when you don't speak the language. The subtleties like the proliferation of trees only just exotic enough to play on the corner of your subconscious... the singing of birds is a sound that is so well known, but on the other side of the world, their melodies delicately spin in a way that makes you realize how uniform the sounds from back home are. Everything here is so different, yet so similar. Like a mosaic depicting the same image with completely contrasting building blocks.

Same cab driver though. I will say that. SAME guy.

Same vaguely foreign dude who was very frustrated that we would dare load luggage into the van we called. Same smell too. I'm not going to get poetic and describe it, but you know the one. The cab smell. It smells like the frustrated sweat of people cursing their inability to get an Uber. We got used to this smell a lot on our trip because our "free provided transport", would be "taxi service". As in "Get a taxi, keep the receipts, we'll pay you back." As in "We're definitely not paying you back".

It was then that we met up with our crew. We say hi and exchange pleasantries, attempting to hide the fact that our voyage had made us objectively offensive to all five senses. We met a few of the artists we will be playing for in the next couple of days, and are told that we will be rehearsing in a few hours and fed. That works fine for me. One of the artists graciously offers to drive us to the mall in order to get us out of our travel clothes, which are at this point are exuding cartoon stink lines. We kindly agree and are on our way.

A brief shopping trip later and we're back in business! Fresh undies, some new shirts, and clean socks will surely freshen us up! To the hotel, my friends! We'll have a quick shower and we'll be spotless in no time!

...What do you mean we don't have a hotel?


...I don't know what that is.
..

No, I'm not being coy, I don't know what that is.
..

"Siri, what is AirBnB"?

So we've hit a bump. I won't beat around the bush here, the apartment that they rented out for us was not large. The dimensions of the building were roughly that of the "fetch" radius of an unfriendly, aging Bichon Frisée. It was located at the top of the 6th floor, and because apparently pullies are an uncool American invention, elevators were not an option. We were each easily lugging 50lbs of gear on our backs, and after a week in this apartment, our butts were so toned they could crush unopened coke cans with only minor effort.

This poor German bachelor (I assume it is a bachelor and not a bachelorette, judging by the SEVEN separate Axe Body wash bottles found in his bathroom) whose room we invaded could not have seen this coming. If I stretch the limits of my imagination to attempt to get in the D+ minds of those who booked our rooms, I can only assume that the organizers were veteran D&D players:

-Ok, we have the Ajo band arriving from Canada next week. Four person band, three men, one woman, so we'll want to make sure we don't force her to bunk with anyone without at least warning her first.
-What about this place right here?
-Well... no... that place has a single double bed in it.
-Yeah! And a couch!
-How the hell is that supposed to fit all these people?
-Well, the healer can sleep in the bed to regain her spells while the Wizard gets the couch to take a rest. Rogue takes first watch! Fighter covers the windows!

-Hmm, I suppose you're right. Only half the party REALLY needs sleep.

-I am an organizational genius.

And yet, we soldiered on. We each took turns showering and getting changed (no towels, by the way; we dried off using our dirty wet shirts) until we looked vaguely presentable (if you squinted and were also blind) before making our way to the first rehearsal. We arrived at the address we received, only to find out that it was the wrong location. It must be. Because there's no way we're rehearsing in a convenience store, is there? I'd call the bandleader but only 2 out of our 4 collective cell phones have roaming signal out here. The artist we're with is getting anxious. His show is tomorrow and he really wants to rehearse his music. We're told to meet with the rest of the band and organizers across the street so that we can eat some food beforehand. This of course, soothes the artist, who expresses his gratitude by reciting a free-form poem entitled "Why the ding-dong are you calling us to eat now, we only have two hours to run three people's sets!"

Food doesn't come, and we return to the convenience store. This time someone guides us down a Batman style secret staircase into a Batman style basement which leads us into a Batman style church! In case you're wondering, Batmen was a non-practicing Roman Catholic. So while some lucky few of you may be envisioning a Vegas style musical utopia of a church, it would be far more accurate to envision the sad garage sale of an aging man who used to be in a minimalist punk/salsa project. A fix-er-up drumkit stood (I use this verb loosely) in the corner, with a set of congas beside her. Other than that, we had a handful of wireless mics (which were not possible to use at the same time), and a mixing board. For the non-musicians out there, this is the rough equivalent of being asked to cook a Thanksgiving meal using only salt, half a potato, and a printed jpg of a turkey. There were no guitar amps, nor bass amps, which of course was slightly irrelevant considering that KLM Airlines lost our guitar and bass anyway. Oh wait, we have to take care of that, don't we?

"We need instruments!", we say to the organizers, "Let's find out where the nearest rental place is and get something quick! Our first show is tomorrow morning."

The atmosphere chilled like those scenes in Western movies where the protagonist asks about "One-Eyed Pete". Somewhere, a ragtime piano player stopped playing as a record scratched and a waiter dropped his glasses in surprise. There was a pause in the air while someone slowly removed their glasses and another organizer looked out the window in pensive introspection. An impressive feat, as we were underground, and the window she was peering through contained only a fire extinguisher.

"You see...", she started, "We must consider..."

"You dudes were taking too long, we already called, it's going to be 60 Euros for two days."

Now, 60 Euros is a fair amount of money. We're looking at roughly $90 Canadian. Having said that, you know what else is a fair amount of money? Having your artists walk because their backing band has no low-end in its sound. This fact was apparently lost on the organizers to refused to accept that price, opting instead to have our bassist play his parts through an acoustic guitar with the treble turned down. If you want to know how laughingly insulting that is, imagine eating the soggy oven-baked fries your mother told you were "just as good" as McDonald's. Only you have 20+ years experience making fries. And your reputation is based off of your ability to make fries. And it's not the same thING MOM THERE'S NO WAY YOU THINK I CAN'T TELL THE DIFFERENCE IN A BLIND TASTE TEST BETWEEN MCDONALDS SALTY ANGELS AND THESE MONSTROSITIES.

...Sorry. I may need to work some things out.

We finish up an overwhelmingly unsatisfying practice, pack up and head back to the restaurant where food is now being served! By which I mean leftovers are being served, seeing as the food finished while we were practicing. Supper is an African meal that I can only accurately describe as "Meat on Rice". Fine with me. My diet is 70% meat-on-rice anyway! And with a belly full of food and a clear head, things are starting to look a little clearer.

Our bags were found! We should be getting them back tomorrow! Hopefully before the show!
In the meantime, some people are going to an open mic tonight where they think they can find instruments for us!
And what's this? Two of the artists have volunteered to be our drivers for the next few days! Total bro move!

You know what? Now that I've eaten and settled a bit, things are looking up! Surely after this crappy start, our luck will turn around. We most definitely will not need a third part to this sto--

TO BE CONTINUED IN Pt. 3