Have I got a lack of interest
There! I am leaving. Will I be able to spoil myself?
And the city smelled like New York. But I am not going there, nor to Barcelona. I am visiting that city, like I always do before I change my job or my job changes me.
Entries Tagged as 'Bucharest'
Nuances
It’s “so far, so good”, instead of “sooo good, so far”. There are a lot of reasons for that. Like the fact the one of the guard monkeys grabbed my arm. I say learn English, learn some manners, then get paid to be a bodyguard. Anyways, nothing serious. Some of the festival staff is really good and effective. Like the guy who apologized for the guard.
So that would explain why I have started drinking beer as early as ten something in the morning. Or wouldn’t it?
Can I complain about the dust. About the little motorinoes? They are everywhere, inserting themselves in every little space available. I am talking both about the dust and the little motor bikes. Since there is nothing much I can do about the dust, I thought of just pushing the riders as they pass me by. Criminal instinct, huh?
So yesterday was the first busy day. Kaiser Chiefs made my day. “That’s a nice one, BUCHAREST”. The Romanian crowd was ecstatic. The Hungarians were like “What was that? Neah”. So that was the highlight of a day that included, dozing in the ambient tent, excellent music and sound, a indie-underground American movie and a discussion with it’s director in the Magic Mirror, The graffiti artist - don’t bother unless you don’t have anything else better, the quite electric Fanfara Tirana, and the funny Finish unpronounceable Alamaailman Vasarat, a bit hard to digest in terms of music, but very humorous intros to their pieces, Kaiser Chiefs as you know them, Jamiroquai impaired by their own live sound, so we moved next door to Bob Marley’s son. You remember the cute little Ky-Mani? He is all grown up now.
The cherry on the pie was Szivkov Aleksszandr 6 minute dance. Great, entertaining, well-done, perfect moves and his body is a bonus. On the same occasion we watched another performance, that made us want to leave the room and move forward. Some tunisian guy, speaking French, of course, using a wheel chair. The dancing was good, but the piece was all together too long and “artistic”. We ended the night in a jazz note. Rhoda Scott is an American artist that plays an instrument that’s a cross between a piano and an organ and she does it with all her soul. Plus she had help from this incredible drum player. Makes me wanna be like that when I am older.
My twenty minutes are almost up. See you soon.
LATER EDIT: Thanks to Hotnews for linking me.
The first gets the cold… shower
It was not love. It was COLD.
As the water was dripping down his body and swirling into the drain, he was waking up. Waking up shivering. Waking up and shivering. Not what he intended, the shivering.
And he was realizing yet another difference between communism and capitalism. In capitalism you pay by the meter for what you’re getting. In communism you pay by the meter for how much you’re getting. These were his thoughts at six a.m. while taking his cold shower coming down to him from the hot water pipe. He was still in communism, obviously, he thought. “And also this is what you get for being first”, he issued yet another Simonism before he got sucked into making ready for his imminent trip to his lover.
Minor car crash
Civilized, tell you more tomorrow. Now off to 4 of July and then to B’Estfest.
I’ve got it
I am finally fully identifiable and documented, driver’s license and all.
Quite impressive their new headquarters for relations with the public. They even had a nicely cosmopolitan electronic system for queuing and a working air conditioning. What was partly missing? A sidewalk.
I left through the countryside-like dust. But I am happy.
Vindicated
Either I am crazy or this city is making me crazy. I have just witnessed this, where a male taxi driver, in his late thirties stopped in the middle of the boulevard causing a commotion and a scene at a woman driver in the car behind who allegedly had done something wrong. He walked to her screaming, and threatening to beat and kill her.
To which I reported the incident to his boss. And I feel better.
Mojik-country.
Illustration
Remove the balls, and you will have a pretty accurate picture of my life.
The consequence of blogging upon your life
When Romer!can tells you it’s awesome rock opera, you remember it’s been one of your first tapes. (It’s the wow look on his face that does it, when he stresses “It’s Operation Mindcrime I AND II performed in their entirety!”)
When you ask the Rock Chick how much are the tickets, she decides to buy you one “for your birthday”, sort of long past. So you end at the concert.
It starts late, but it’s the perfect opportunity to notice the load of ethilic looks lurking at Arenele Romane and the living dead revamped rockers. When it starts, the lead still has a voice, and band is good, but the whole thing just is not you anymore.
The dripping drip
A nation of handicapped constructors, installers, and owners have conspired so that the innocent passer-by, already crushed under the heat from the sun and the pavement, can be refreshed with water from the air conditioning machines.
And that is happening in the streets of Bucharest, as we speak.
Monday morning again
This time I have accidentally place the mug on the edge of the tray, which subsequently led to my mobile being drowned in a pool of coffee, milk, and honey.
I won’t possibly be able to change my phone, for financial and mood reasons. Better won’t be sticky. And better all my contacts still work.
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