Polish Language skills

I've been here for four days now - and I have come to conclusions about language in Poland.

a) It seems to be impossible to speak even a little polish. I have not had any response to pleases, thank you's and hellos. I think I'm saying them wrong

b) No one speaks English apart from where it comes as standard - i.e. conference centres, conference hotels, tourist restaurants.

Now. I don't speak a word of Polish, and I don't expect everyone to speak English. Especially in a country where Russian was there international communication means until 1990, but it's a compeletly new experience to have absolutley no guaranteed access to an english speaking native. When it's clear to people talking to you that you don't speak polish, they speak it slower and louder. I'm reminded of english tourists. Slowing Polish down does not make up for my lack of grammar, vocabulary, or generally any other linguistic facet of the language.

I've been told that Polish schools started teaching English in 1990. Giving them a few years to get good at it(How many years has it taken UK schools??), you can't expect anyone over about 10 years old to have learned English from an early age at school.

This is confirmed from what happened the first night I was here. It was late, and I was hungry. I had walked in the wrong direction from the hotel - so had ended up in a burger stall in the bus station. I got a negative to English and German(I've since given up on asking for German), so did the point and nod communication.

There was a little kid some where between 8 and 12 who seemed really excited:

"Where ARE you from?" Stress, expression and pronunciation almost completely wrong but grammatically perfect. He was really excited to get to practice his English. I told him I was from Scotland, then Glasgow. His eyes lit up. I soon realised that his specialist subject was football. He started to rattle off every player in both the Glasgow Celtic and Glasgow Rangers squads. Soon the problem was not one of language, but one of my lack of knowledge about Scottish football.

I've never been that into football at the best of times, but having not seen a Daily Record(The scottish tabloid newspaper) in many months, I couldn't place money on naming anyone in either of the teams. I kind of nod and smile.

Finally, not only have I found an English speaker, it's an English speaker with not only an obsession with Scotland, but an obsession with my part of Scotland, and I can't keep up with him. This travelling thing is tough - maybe I'll get a postal subscription to the Daily Record.

Day 2

The real deal today. I even go to breakfast. It’s the first full day of the conference. The breakfast hall(It’s not a room) in the hotel seems to be made on epic proportions. Tomorrow, I’m definitely going to sit closer to the food, cos my bacon got cold and my corn flakes got warm.

The conference provided a week’s travel pass for Poznan. This was quite useful, but I don’t yet have the testicular fortitude to attempt to navigate my way through the Tram map, never mind get on one of those packed vehicles which look as if they have been running along the same track since the 60’s.

The conference is a long and tiring day – so I opt for a quick walk around Poznan before heading off to bed.

The main stuff of interest in Poznan is in the main square(Stary Rynek). The big spire is the town hall(I think).





What;s the story Tobermory. That's what this is like - that scottish Telly programme with all the different coloured houses. They like their colourful houses here. These are the Fish sellers houses, which were apparently the fish market.









When I get back to the hotel – I decide that a quick beer is in order in the Hotel bar. I take in my laptop to go over some of the day-s work. It turns out the bar has wifi, so I end up on MSN. An old friend from high school(Of nine inch nail fame) is on and she too is sitting behind a computer screen with a drink.

We have chat and it serves as a pint and a chin wag with a mate – the only thing that is vitual is the table. I am in Poland, she is in Glasgow and the conversation wouldn’t have been any different if we were both in the same place, the only difference is that I would have been drinking Tennents and more of it. For those interested in world beers. Tonight's beer is not Lech, but "Zywied".



Technology is a wonderful thing. Theres a little bit of Scotland in the corner of my computer.

Early start – so early night

Poland - Day 1

Ah – long lies are good. I’d forgotten the pleasure of lying in bed and watching DVD’s. I opted for DVD’s on the laptop after giving up on CNN. The polish telly provided lght relief in that the films are dubbed, but all characters are dubbed by the same person. Just imagine the audiotrack of your favourite film constructed of someone reading all characters in a monotone voice – quite bizarre, and as someone who has only every watched foreign films using subtitles, I fail to see how you can enjoy a film like this. On this occasion it completely ruined Crocodile Dundee 3 for me!!!

Anyway – off we go for my first real day in Poland. I do the obvious things first like check if Jay Walking is illegal. It doesn’t seem to be. The address I have for the conference is “International Conference Centre – Poznan” I realise that I am walking in the direction of the centre and looking out for things which look like conference centres. While this is doing wonders for my observation of Poznan, I’m not getting any closer to the conference, so buy an A-Z and discover that I’m heading in the wrong direction. Little mistake, but getting lost does wonders for your handle on the city.

On my side of the city there is one main thoroughfare(Sw. Marcin) which leads from the conference centre(West of the city), to the centre (hubbub of the city). Simple rule is walk north-south in the city until you hit it and then you know where you are.

_/\_

After the conference, I get back to the hotel and then go a wander in order to see some of the sites I wanted to see earlier. Before I make it to the centre – I get an SMS from a colleague and it’s dinner tonight instead of sightseeing

After wandering round the streets in search of some authenticity, we realise that almost everything(including restaurants) is shut. We have to go back to the centre where the first thing we come across(we’re Hank Marvin now!!!) is a native American theme bar. Not stopping for a second to how bizarre a first polish meal this is, we take a seat. There are very soon four local beers in front of us

The local beer is called “Lech”. I find this comical at first as most men become lecherous after a few beers, but it turns out that the “ch” is as in loch not as in cheese. Lech was the grandfather of the first king of Poland or something like that. He founded the first capital



We are soon tucking into dishes with titles such as “Sitting Buffalo’s last stand against big bull on a hill” It’s pretty tasty - and I learn something about good Polish service. Apparently the y quicker they get plate off the table after you’ve put the last bite in your mouth the better. Our waiter seems to practice as a sport, when he catches my fork coming down from my mouth with the plate he’s picked up. A French conversationalist turns it into an extreme sport for the poor boy as he manages to savour each bite as he savours each bite of conversation. The waiter will probably relay the story to his grandchildren one day as one of the most exciting meals of his waitering career.

Anyway.

That’s day one over. Good fun – not convinced I know much about Poland, polish life, polish food or the polish language – maybe tomorrow.

Famous Polish People

I was trying to make a list of famous Polish people. I didn't get very far - it would be interesting to see how many famous Scots the average Pole can name. Anyway. Here goes. I'll add as I think of more:

The Last Pope
Roman Polanski
Marie Curie
Chopin

Chopin alone gets them some pretty good marks. Hopefully this will get longer as the week goes on

Manic Street Preaching to Poland

Having stayed out far to late the night before watching DVD's at a friends, I am not in the best mood to get up, pack and then make my way to Poland. After much espresso while I pack my "good" conference clothes while o auto pilot - it is only "Sleepflower" by the manic street preachers that allows me to make my way to the tram stop.



Once on the tram - although I am heavily laden with bag and laptop, I start to enjoy the trip. Even though only an hour ago I was literally dragging my self from bed to shower - the espresso has kicked in and my feet are tapping away, and I'm trying to avoid singing along and shouting "La Tristesse Durera" at my fellow Tram goers.

The Manic's pre-cobain crunchy guitars have become so refreshing. It's hard to belive that I used to know people’s whose CD collections stacked the Manics beside Poison, faster Pussycat, Guns N’ Roses and other assorted hair metal. I never saw much connection between Axl Rose singing “Bend over bitch I got a use for you” about some cherry red lipsticked blond and tales of socialism from welsh mining villages. It’s got my feet tapping anyway.

I briskly walk into Amsterdam central, walking quickly to the beat – late enough to spur me on but early enough not to be in an danger. When I’m on the train I suddenly realise that I’m going to a foreign country with a language I’ve never heard and a currency…. I have no idea if Poland have taken the Euro(I told you it was a late night). I think about asking the rest of my carriage, but remember that I’m no longer in Glasgow, where it would be acceptable to open a conversation with your fellow traveler with the line “Haw mate. You ken whit muni they yais in Poland???”. The Dutch unfortunately keep themselves to themselves. A quick check of my guidebook(I must be excited I bought a guide book) tells me that the Polish use the Zloty and there are 100 Grosy’s in a Zloty.

I arrive at Schiphol as Gold Against the soul finishes. I worry for a second that I’m going to have to be faced with a decision as to where my mood goes next, but it’s okay cos I scroll through the G’s on my iPod and go to Generation Terrorists.



The Manic’s are an oddity in music. They represented this non-macho non-cock rock, before (Or in Sync with) grunge coming across from Seattle just a few years before Britain would consider the lie of the land and put forward Liam Gallagher as their answer. This was just before my time, but I remember the photos of devoted fans in eyeliner and leopard skin. I’ve never really been sure why. Glam fans, Hair Metal Guitars, Socialist Lyrics and grunge like personas, but most importantly “get me to the airport” properties.

Schiphol(Or any airport) is a very hard place to stay “up”. Despite the Manic’s best efforts, the KLM people processing challenges me. I am determined not to let it get to me. The best way to do this is laugh at it. First step – it’s impossible to check in for a KLM flight at Schiphol without using the self service check in. No matter how much you try to tell the staff. They never believe me that my Passport is too traveled to scan. So I have to get them to help me, then it’s off to baggage check in, which is now run by 40 untrained and 5 trained rather than 30 trained staff. This is clearly a more economically sound process, except, I have never heard of, seen, stood behind or been someone who didn’t need one of the 5 trained staff to get my baggage checked in.

Rant Rant rant, One more. The people who seal their passports in a time locked nuclear bunker within their hand bag after they check in because they don’t realise they need it at PASSPORT control.


……and breathe out………

The other side of the security is much better. Everyone’s got rid of their bags, they are almost on holiday(Or at least doing business somewhere exotic). Now you just walk to your gate and get to wait while playing the people watching game. I sit about wondering if Polish people have a specific look. This assumes that all the people waiting have an end destination of Poland. All I can gather is that polish sounds more Russian than I expected, in that there is quite a hissy S’ and Z as they speak.

I’m on the plane, so I get to look through the phrase book and teach myself the basics:

Tak – Yes
Nye – No
Poproshe Beelet Poznan – A ticket to Poznan
Fyed non strome – one way
Dzien Dobrey – Hello
Djen Koo Yay – Thank you

All polish is phonetic – I’ve decided I’m unlikely to be writing much polish.

This is all completely useless when I get into Frederic Chopin Airport in Warsaw. I’ve been to his Grave(Paris), I’ve listened to his music, I’ve been to his holiday destination(Palma De Mallorca), and now I’ve been to his airport.

After finally convincing my Taxi driver that he was taking me to the train station and not all the way to Poznan, I get my first experience of Poland. The station ticket offices are a line of about 20 booths where above them is a magnetic board with all the times and destinations. It’s amazing. From here I can geta train to Moscow, Prague, Estonia, Brussels, Paris – Just about anywhere in the continent. I’m sure I could do the same from Amsterdam – but you rarely see it on one board in front of you.

I wait about 40 mins in a queue with 2 people in it. Soon it’s a case of
Do you speak English?”
Blank
“Sprechen sie Deutsch?”
Blank
“Poproshe Beelet Poznan”
“Youa want…..” “Ticket Poznan”

It’s clear – my polish is so bad that she decides that it’s better to pull out the little English she has.
It appears to work as I’m now the proud owner of something which looks like the Bank statement from a cashline machine and appears to my ticket.

Now, since the 40 minute queue made me miss my last train – I have 30 mins to wait. I go off and find myself some food. Another point and nod moment gets me something in a paper bag which has been wrapped as tight as a fish supper. I’ll keep it till the train. For the first time I get to sit down and get my moleskin out and write this stuff down.

Poland so far has been really really amazing –it’s an amazing feeling. It’s dirty, dull and rough. The lights seem to be set at 60% as if they are conserving electricity. Today – it’s dull outside and this just adds to a really grim atmosphere within the dull grey train platform. The trains add to the atmosphere, they look really old and functional. Shabby – but it looks like a good mechanic has been keeping them ticking over forever. It's really great being this far east - it feels so foreign to me. It's made me really look forward to Bulgaria.(I’m going in August) A language that you have no way of understanding, and different money really makes a difference. I remember when I was about 12 and everywhere felt like that. Now Europe has got so small, - it's a bit of a shame. (maybe I’ve just got bigger.)

Between looking at the map and seeing times, prices, and destinations – I’m ready to forget about the conference, exchange my holdall for a back pack and go off road. Names like Moscow, Prague and Gdansk seem so much more exotic than Brussels, Eindhoven and Franfurt.

Soon the train arrives and we have the shoving session to get into our little compartments. I’m thrilled to see some Cyrillic on the side. This gets my heart racing, old train, grey dirtiness, lots of people running around shouting in language I’ve never heard , and a train which is a connection from somewhere that uses Cyrillic script. Again it’s so much more exciting that seeing a Parisian FNAC bag come through Amsterdam or a local Newcastle paper come through Glasgow.

I sit and take in the sights while reading my guidebook, half in the hope that someone in my carriage embraces me as a foreigner and takes me under their wing. It doesn’t happen. I’m stuck with the sights. It’s disappointingly flat. Living in the Netherlands makes you crave elevation. Soon I learn to look past the flatness and you get these fleeting glimpses of polish local life. I see an old weather –beaten man in work dungarees walking a solitary cow along a dirt path, a farm worker forking hay and two cyclists ambling along a country road. This all exists elsewhere but for some reason it looks so quaint an rural. Maybe I’m high on the traveling bug. You see really old rusty tractors which work as well as the train I’m on despite their looks and their age.

Eventually I’m in Poland and one Taxi ride from my hotel.

I started out listening to the Manics, but I was through justa botu everything after that - a lot of the time, my iPod was off in order to get the aural experience of Poland. If anyone is really interested I was listening to Soundgarden with my hair down, wearing shorts and converse and supping a diet coke when I arrived at the Hotel. This seemed to not agree with the supercilious little man behind the counter. He threw the key at me. Maybe my father's tales in the late 80's about keeping quite refined when we are in posh hotels are actually true. I enjoyed getting up his nose anyway.

I look out my window for my first relaxed glimpse of Poznan. It’s a mixture of concrete communist functionality – very old weathered buildings and greenery.



I’ll explore tomorrow after my first long lie past 8am since......Hmmmm..... before I went to Scotland sometime.

Bulgarian Panagyurski Eggs

Last night I was round at a Bulgarian family for dinner. They are very good friends, so I've had lots of Bulgarian food - and they in return are seasoned Oatcake and Haggis eaters, but last night I got a new tasty dish, which I may try to make myself.

The mother of the family is from a Bulgarian town called Panagyurski, which has an egg dish named after it. The dish is as follows.

Two poached eggs swimming in yogurt with garlic and Feta cheese and crumbled through it, then sprinkle the whole lot with Paprika.

http://www.motherlindas.com/elenas_poached_eggs.htm

I can't find a picture online, so I'll have to find a restaurant which serves it when I'm Bulgaria later in the year.

Sushi, wine and no T in the park

One of the best things about being away, is that when you come back you've not seen any of your mates in weeks, so they are quite glad to see you.

One evening a few months back, I drunkenly(I'm seeing a recurring theme here) suggested that a group of us had Sunday roast, as many of them while not being brits had lived in England, so knew how great a Sunday that can be. While I was in Italy I got a mail from a German friend who told me that a group of us were having lunch this Sunday. Little did I know that when I agreed - I would be sporting such a good scar on my elbow, but spontaneity is a wonderful thing.

So off I go - feeling fresh as a daisy and without a stinging elbow(Whisky did the trick). I'm not really sure what to expect - I don't know who will be in attendance, and I don't know what's getting roasted. On arriving, it turns out that nothing is getting roasted, my friends are far more exotic than that - we're having sushi.



For anyone who doesn't like the idea of sushi - I advise you to try it as soon as possible. It's very tasty and very healthy.

As is usual in Amsterdam, it's a very Multi-Cultural table. We have a German(Who made the sushi), an Argentinean, and Irish guy, a second German and a Japanese guy. I would never have the balls to make sushi for a Japanese man, it's up there with my "check if the Spaniard can play guitar" rule, my "the Eskimo probably does have a better igloo" rule, and my "the Russian probably can hold his Vodka" rule, but we are assured that it is the real deal.

Since it's such a luverly day - my shorts take on two very chilled bottles of wine, and we head to the park:



It's a wonderful day. We sit talking nonsense and relaxing. Maybe I should have a weekend at home more often.

Back in Amsterdam with Satan, Gollem and a new flat mate

So late last night I returned to home for the first time in 2 weeks, and I'm going to spend the whole week here for the first time in 5 weeks. I settle into bed looking forward to my first long lie in over a month.

I'm woken up just after 10am by a knock at the door. It's my new flatmate. My previous flat mate moved out while I was off travelling. So on a day where I thought I could be adventure free for just a few days - I now have a new flatmate to meet.

He's a banker from New Zealand, and we decide to seal the relationship by going off to Bar Gollum that night.



Bar Gollem serves hunners(Scottish for many - one, two, hunners), of Belgian beers. We seem to have opted for a beer called Satan(http://www.satanbeer.com). Maybe the tiredness had taken my common sense away, but I didn't notice that this was a bad omen.




It's my recollection that we had 4 of those babies. The problem is that when you are drinking normal crappy(But oh so standardised) beer,



you start to feel it, and decide to have a last one before the off. With Belgian beer, that last beer shouldn't be taken, cos it is liable to change you from a little tipsy to completely plastered.

Luckily being a seasoned drinker, I recognise this - make my excuses and head for home. Unfortunately there is a further problem. The best means to get around in Amsterdam is by bicycle. I often cycle home with few drinks. I would never even think about getting in a car drunk, but cycling is less of an issue, cos the only person you can harm is yourself, and the small canal streets of Amsterdam ensure that there is little fast traffic.

Most sane people(Those who think twice before drinking a beer called Satan) would have walked or got a tram, but I decide to slowly cycle. All goes well - I'm listening to the beastie boys on my iPod, when taxi pulls out in front of me. I stop suddenly - normally not a problem - swerve a little and rattle my front wheel off the kerb. This is normally results in you losing control for a second but recovering, but in this case I take a tumble. Maybe because of the beer - maybe it would have happened anyway. Nothing serious, I fall over and land on my elbow. I think it is nothing an cycle on. By the time I get home my elbow is throbbing - I've grazed my elbow.

I realise several things now. The first is that children are hard as nails - never do I remember grazing something and it stinging like this. I try many things, sure that there is a parental secret to stopping a kid's grazed elbow from stinging. I have an ice lolly - I play with some lego - nothing works. I decide to give up and go to bed, but realise I should clean my elbow.

Having been in Scotland for the best part of 3 weeks and carried my mountain first aid kit around, it was used to cover blisters, the paracetamol cured a couple of hangovers, and then there was the aftermath of the drumstick fight.

Never did I think I would need it in such a flat country. I realise that I have no plaster's, no antiseptic cream, no nothing. I have a good think - pour some whisky(Only bell's) on it give it a wipe and head off to bed.

I'm looking forward to getting to know my new flatmate - any relationship which has scars to show when it started can't be half bad.

Genova - In one big chunk

After a long, boring, sweaty, hot, day of conferencing and networking I have now spent my first day in Genova. From a small midnight walk last night and the taxi ride to the venue, I have discovered that it is a very old town with windey streets on the side of some very mountainous terrain. Its looks and feels very foreign – I think this is due to the heat, the winding cobbled streets and the fact that this is the first time I'm in Italy. Now I have the evening to myself to see a little bit of the city. I am looking forward to a good nights sleep, but first I decide to walk back to the hotel.

I find walking one of the best ways to get a real feel for the town. My hotel is almost at sea level and the university venue is pretty high, so i start walking down hill. I wlak for about 15 mins until my calf muscles are sore again. I'm cursing Trent Reznor with every step – as I flick through the guide book from my conference pack to try to find out where I am. I am pretty sure i'm walking in the right direction cos I recognise the mountains. Sailors navigate using the stars, Scotsmen use mountains.



I manage to read a section of the guide book which tells me my first interesting fact about Genova. ......Genova is one of the longest cities in Europe – 34 Km.........

TAXI!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm boring - I decide on the first night of sleep in a bed thats going to last longer tha 6 hours in about a week should be savoured.

_/\_

Second day of the conference and I have a presentation to prepare. Most of the day is spent taking in interesting presentations – taking advantage of the wifi which is becoming standard at conferences and taking advantage of the wonderfully authentic and wonderfully cheap espresso bar on the top floor.

The conference runs late, so by the time I go on, we are already over running into the social dinner time. It's frustrating, but it does mean that I get to know the chair and other speakers in my session. They turn out to be pretty cool guys from Genova and my dinner mates for the evening.

They confirm another Italian cliché – they love to talk about food. This makes for a great advantage – my food comes with commentary which you can't buy in a guide book.

As canopes we have deep fried vegetables. I would describe it as similar to Japanese Tempura. It is pretty tasty – lets face it – scotsmen like their deep fried battered food whatever it is. Apparently the artichokes are the speciality, so I have a good few of them.

Once we are at the tables, the conversation continues. We exchange stories of Scotland and Italy. Everyone there like to tell tales of their own country so the conversation never stops. They are fascinated withs tories of scotland and I do my bit for Scottish tourism by explaining that Genova to Milan on the train is 12 Euros and then Milan to Prestwick was 12 pounds for me. I also find out some Genovan slang. “Belin” excuse the spelling seems to be used in a similar grammatcal means as “fuck” in English. Apparently you can say that something is “Belin” good to enhance it's meaning. I'm not sure that I get it completely, but it was important to the Genovans.

The first course is a seafood platter. It's pretty tasty – we're close to the sea – so it must be fresh.

The second course is a pasta. I'm told that the Italians only export the crap pasta, and it would appear to be true – this is a really great dish. It looks like it has been grated and is again a Genovan special. I get told off for using my knife to eat it. I ask what it's called and I'm told “pesto” they are correct but i still don't know what they pasta is called

After that we have some sort of fish steak, this is the least strong of the courses, tasty enough, but all the other courses were wonderful.

We follow this with a Tiramisu, its then on our feet again for mingling and Limoncello. Although our table has been knocking back the white wine, it seems we are the least drunk of the tables. The Limoncello disappears as fast as the waiter can refill the decanter. People are drinking it from wine glasses. It's bizarre being the well behaved one. I feel rather out of place.

It's then bed time. We not really – a group of us gather intending to move onwards to see a few bars. This group gets smaller as we get closer to the bars. People are beginning to regret drinking quite as much Limoncello I think.

We are reduced to our Genovan guide, and Irishman, a Scotsman and an Australian. The last three nations consider drinking a national sport – this could be carnage. We land at a little busy bar in some lively side street. It's Wednesday night – yet the city is thriving. It must be it's high student population.

We get into the bar and I head off to the toilet. I open the toilet door and two girls shout at me “ Eet eez beeezeeee” as I enter the door. They were shouting at the air and I happen to have walked in at that moment. They are as surprised as I am. I quickly retort “How did you know I spoke English” they were equally quick telling that my name didn't sound Italian. I have made the age old mistake of forgetting to take off my conference badge.

We get talking as I wait to piss. It turns out that one of them is an archaeologist and one a psychologist. I make a comment about both digging up heavily buried old stuff but it seems to be lost on them. What is really strange is that they are sitting with their dog.

So.... I return from the toilet with two Italian women and a dog. I'm the hero of the guys. Its now last orders at the bar, so we quickly get some drinks before walking on to a club recommended by our new found hosts for the evening. The walk from busy street full of Bars to club is longer than it should be – but it gives us a chance to finish our beer and be told the story of the oldest bank in the Mediteranian:



This was taken the next day. The first cheque in the world was written here. On the side of the building is a huge paining of St. George slaying the dragon. I now get some more Genovan facts.



The St. Georges cross(i.e English flag) is actually part of the Genovan arms. St George is therefore their saint, and actually the English are only allowed to use their flag because the city of Genova have expressed their permission. So from now on I can ask people sporting a St. Georges cross if they are from Genova. Then when they tell em they are from Genova, I ask if they have permission to use the flag.

So we eventually turn up at the Banano Tsunami, our chosen club for the evening:



It is an outdoor club in the middle of the docs and beside the aquarium. The above photo was taken the next day. It's quite strange being in a club which is outdoors – it feels like a barbeque but with beers that cost 6 euros.



It's a really trendy club – it is in the classiest part of Genova and also the drinks are really expensive. I find myself asking why then they play the clash – maybe dance and disco has finally had it's day and trendy clubs play good music now. Even more bizarre is that there is a dog with us.

In Scotland(maybe just Glasgow) in order to keep their handbags safe, women dance in a ring with their bags in the centre. Either there is a lot of dog napping in Genova or that dog is holding the make up and tampons.

The night continues, and eventually it's time for home. So I get run home through the streets of Genova in a Ford Ka. I couldn't remember the club's name the next day. I still can't remember the girls names, but I'm pretty sure the dog was called Milo. Selective memory is a strange thing.

The final day of the conference is interesting. This is mainly due to some very interesting hangovers, the main one being Limoncello. I'm relatively fresh, having stuck to only white wine and then a few beers in the club. I'm so well behaved!!!

On my final day in Genova my plane isn't until 4pm, sso I have time to go and see the sites. During my trip to Leuven, I had dinner with a researcher from Florence, and she said that if I was in Leuven, I had to go to the Aquarium. I found this strange – land of history – beautiful buildings – wonderful food, and I'm going to the city which has a good aquarium. But when in Rome.....(ha ha Geddit??? No neither did most of the Genovan's I said it to)

So 12 Euros to go to an aquarium. It is beside Banano Tsunami, so I take the snaps shown above. To be honest the aquarium is really well set out. The fish/animals/exhibits(What is PC??) have loads of room.

It's probably the best auqarium I've ever been in, but I've not been in many. It beats the Sealife centre outside Oban in Scotland.



I get to see sharks, turtles, big fish, little fish, penguins etc., But by far my favourtie tank was the finding Nemo tank. In here we had all the fish from finding Nemo. I was amazed that they actually look like they do in the cartoons. Really bright primary colours etc. This was also a major attraction for all the kids.

Bizarre – three days ago I was in a field with Scotsmen singing to Soundgarden songs, now I am in an aquarium in Italy looking at the real life Nemo – could my life be any more complete???

Now I have time to have a quick wander around the dock at Genova before heading back to Amsterdam for what will hopefully be an adventureless few days.

Kinross to genoa

And we're up!!!

Very impressive not a moan from anyone at getting up early to get me to Italy.

Quick drink of water to ward off the hangover and hot heat and to give the energy to get me from Campsite to car, it's time to start the journey to Genova – Italy.

Its a long boring, hot Car journey back home where no one talks – it's great to get home to my parents, who are themselves more hungover than I am, (Tsk tsk.) and realy the whole weekend in a very fast 20 minute report. I'm bouncing off the walls I'm so full of energy, but then I have to make the mad dash to run around and change from dirty concert goer – to suited presenter. This is a great feeling – running around with two personalities.

Then it's off to the airport for a Ryanair flight to Milan. Once in the Ryanair airport – I am for the first time in my life in Italy. My first realisation of this is sitting on the bus to milan. It takes about an hour to leave – while we sit in the heat. I soon realise that my post-T chill is going to serve me well in Italy – where nothing appears to happen very fast.

There a cliche's everywhere – a very dominating woman chastising her husband for doing whatever it is he says he didn't do, while is face tells another story.

Two Italian men on the bus who sit and openly discuss and ogle some blonde scottish slappper – who is either too stupid or two wrapped up in telling an old school friend how wonderful she is to notice.

The guys keep catching my eye – so that we are having a discussion of her assets using sign language. They think she may be Paris Hilton. When her halterneck top slips when she picks up her bag at Milan station, they become convinced. Scotland's answer to Paris Hilton has been falsely identified by her breasts. From Milan station I have to find a train to Genova – I'm proud of my musical ability when I work out that “Ritar” is delay on the board – this language thing's a complete doddle. The information does not, however help me to work out what Italian is for ticket office, nor does it help me to make the queue disappear once i find it. Once in the ticket office queue, there are two loud dumb Americans in front of me. I'm sure not all American tourists are dumb – but the dumb ones are certainly loud – so you don't notice the others. They are trying to convince the little man in the ticket office that there is a train back from venice at 11pm – and that they want a ticket for it, clearly having a loud voice, lots of clothes from GAP and the world's most hated man for president qualifies you better for knowing Italian train times than working in Milan Train Station ticket office. These tourists are great – it makes you feel far less intrusive when you walk up, give the international raise of the eyes which refers to the two people he's just had the pleasure of dealing with and use broken phrase book Italian to say “Singel tae genoa please mate” - or thats how I hope it sounds.

Its getting late – and I've not eaten in a while, my train is in 40 mins – and I assume this is enough time to get a sandwich at the little shop. Bizarrely I nearly miss my train – time passes far quicker here. I know from experience, that you have to relax in to it – cos the country ain't gonna change because you are in town.

Once I'm on the train, it's good to get an seat somewhere air conditioned. Although its past 10pm, the thermometers on the buildings say 30 degrees. Italy feels really really foreign. I start to feel like a traveller. Sometimes being away on business you just feel like a suit on a conveyor belt, but all the different transport means and moving around feels pretty good. Its not that I don't want to get to my hotel room and put my head down – it's just pretty nice, floating on the adventure and expectation of seeing new climbs. Jack Kerouac once said that he like train delays – as it gave you the sitting around waiting in the middle of nowhere, where he would make sketches in words of little things which he came across on his travels. I'm not quite at that stage – I'm just trying to enjoy the experience that is available to me. Its also worth remembering that Jack Kerouac was a drug abusing hippy who died of alcoholism.

I finally surface in Genoa station – looking forward to finding a taxi, and hoping that he doesn't give me a look of confusion when I show him the address to my hotel. I am over the moon when the Taxi driver laughs at me, and explains in sign language and Italian that it is just across the street. From what I saw from the train – it is clear that Genoa is built on the side of a mountain. I am in the right street for my hotel – but it is 6 flight of outdoor stairs to climb to get there. Luckily they have a lift. It is still roasting – the check in is reasonably easy. A day which started by carrying bags 2 miles from a campsite to a car in Scotland has ended in a hotel in Italy. Tomorrow: Genoa. Good Night!!

T in the park day 2

We are woken again to the revelry at about 7am. That and the unbelievable heat. Its over 20 degrees at 9 in the morning with no wind. This is very rare for Scotland.

Over Breakfast we make a few decisions – I know two things. I don't want to wait in the queue to gt in and I also want to see Eagles of Death Metal. Since they are on quite early – I have to go down and join the queue at about 11am. Luke decides to come with me, and we arrange to meet the girls at 2pm beside the p-mate stall. http://www.p-mate.co.uk/

So off we go – back pack – energy – can of cold beer – looking California, but feeling Minnesota. Okay – we were looking Minnesota too. Yesterday's rocking on top of the damage done by Trent Reznor – topped off with sleeping in a tent, means that we have bodies which feel they have went five rounds with mike Tyson. My calf muscles ache from jumping and my shoulders and neck are stiff from headbanging, clapping – jumping up and down – carrying things to the tent. The good news is that my back doesn't have any problems. - I had some trouble a few years back. We're getting too old for this. Either that or in the future, we go into training before we get to T in the park.

The queue passes pretty quickly. There's not that many people out this early. As a result, we get into the stadium about an hour before the bands start. This gives us the chance to chill for a while – go to a clean toilet to get rid of the Thai food – get some beer tokens without queuing etc. Then we go off and enjoy some of the side attractions. Our first stop is an oxygen bar. This is a bar where instead of drinking, you sit and breath oxygen fro ten minutes. It's supposed to detox you and refresh you. We sit here for 10 minutes. I'm not convinced. I certainly feel quite fresh – and the sun seems to be shining a little brighter – but at £3.50 it didn't cost that much. A new experience anyway.

Next we wandered on, and did another new thing. We went for a shiatsu. I had never had a shiatsu before – its one of these things I always mean to do – but never get round to. It was wonderful. So having overdosed on oxygen and then opened up the muscles a bit more we are now walking about in just about the chilledest state I've ever been in. I finally manage to find my vest top in the army surplus store. The guy is looking me up and down. Clearly now I'm feeling California, but looking Amsterdam. I explain to him that its all shiatsu – I don't think h's that convinced.

We wander for another while – manage to miss Pete Townshend play with Rachel Fuller(Who she?) – see a little bit of Athlete(They're not bad – nothing to write home/blog about). Luke does some quick stand-up in the Nintendo Stand up tent involving muff diving swans(Long story). We then wander around for another while – drinking lots of water and not starting on the beer(as advised by my masseuse). Eventually we meet the girls before heading off to see the Eagles of Death metal. The girls don't seem to share our chilledness – the heat seems to be getting to them.

We collect everyone together 0- and allow various toilet stops to be made before I announce that since there is no one currently in front of the NME stage and the eagles of death metal are about to appear I'm going to get a good space. I fail to convince anyone else that a band called eagles of death metal are worth seeing.

The Eagles of death metal are a side group of The Queens of the Stone age. I don't know how I know this. I quite like Mark Lanegan, and I like quite a few of the QOTSA stuff, so through keeping an eye out on the internet I cam across them. For a while, if you went to www.eaglesofdeathmetal.com there was aflash movie which said “everytime you masturbate god kills a kitten” I like their humour.

They are pretty much a joke band – but comprised of such good musicians that the music is pretty good too. The front man(A Josh Homme alter ego), is very funny – nothing like Josh Homme., who is mean and moody when with QOTSA. He has a huge comedy moustache, mirror shades, he wiggles his hips – and has lots of tattoos. He kind of straddles the line between male-chauvinist Texan truckdriver and George Michael. It's bizarre. I've googled – and can't decide if Jesse "The Devil" Hughes(Eagles of death metal front man) is Josh Homme's alter eagle. They are the same height, same hair colour, and same initials. I'll keep my fantasies alive and assume they are the same person.


But on they come.

The front man announces that they are working over time for us – because they love us so much – a veiled reference to the fact that in three hours QOTSA will be on the main stage. The audience are comprised of less than 100 people who know who the hell this very strange band is. Bass is someone with large sideburns and wavey grey black hair – I don't know him – i'll have to go read my liner notes. The other guitarist is Dave Catching – he was in loads of bands(Earthlings I think – google needed but I'm in an Airport), and has played on Dessert Sessions(Another Josh homme side project), I've seen him play with Mark Lanegan in Glasgow before and seen him do odd jobs for Master's of reality(Another Josh homme side project) He looks really strange – he looks too old to be there – he has a strange mohok, and bright coloured glasses, which match his bright coloured specs. Strange indeed.



The band is completed by a mean and moody looking female blonde drummer. I always said there was something strange about the durmming on the eagles of death metal album – maybe this was it.



So they kick into so groovy but chugging tunes, most of which appear on their album Peace Love and Death metal. Its music that I can't help but dance to – there's very little Josh Homme in the vocals. He says “lets hear it for the laydeez” between most songs. “Let's hear it for Rock and roll” full of cliche's. Anyone who doesn't know who this band must think they are so bad, unfashionable and cliched. There have been many artists who have had side projects, and some have performed under fake names to achieve smaller audiences., but creating a new persona and following your real band round the festival circuit is new on me.

“Let's hear it for the Laydeez!!!!”

He notices that one of the four flags you can buy is a skull and cross bones – so comments that they've never had so much support from the pirate community.

“Let's hear it for the piracy!!!!”

“Aww hell, Let's hear it for the Laydeez again!!!!”

The female drummer is getting a lot of cheering from some guys in the crowd so keeps throwing them some drumsticks . The front man is getting a lot of support from some laydeez – so he hands them his t -Shirt at the end. They close with “Stuck in the middle with you” - a cover also on their album.

“See you later” It's clear they get a lot of fun out of this – it's a also a great treat for the diehard fans. Josh Homme appears to be a workaholic.

And then it's over – my music buzz has been topped up again – it's time for a beer. I go and pick the others up. They are less than enthusiastic about the eagles of Death Metal which they heard from the grass. Maybe you had to see them as well as hear them.

And we're off on the wander again. As a result of the Shiatsu – I have no cash left,a nd theres a 3 hour long(No exaggeration) cashline queue. Using my last on some sweet and sour chicken, I decide that I will manage to survive on beer tokens.

After getting a beer we wander a little – catch a little Razorlight and it's time for Snoop Dogg. Now I'm not one for hiphop, unless you count the Beastie Boys, but two of the girls wanted to go, and frankly i thought it would be a refreshing change from British bands called “the somethings.”



There was lots of crowd participation – and I found myself joining in. It was very hard n ot to “Let me hear you say Hell yeah” that kind of thing. He's damn good at his job. The strange thing is that even tho I'm not a snoop fan – I knew every song on the set., He's pretty much been doing this so long – that he's a charactiture of himself. Its certainly very refreshing. So there two firsts so far today – shiatsu massage and hip hop. It still doesn't equal sunday's first of someone singing Joni Mitchel as trent Reznor takes to the stage but it'll do.

So it's then a quick run back to meet up with everyone and then I'm off on my own to see Queens of the Stone age. I'm not the biggest fan in the world. I like the idea – I quite like the guys, but I can take or leave all their stuff except the songs for the death album, which I think is a great album. I like their sound – the denseness of it coupled with the quality of the pop music they can write sets them out from other stuff.

I'm a huge Mark lanegan fan – I think his voice is as close as we get to a real blues voice these days – he makes you believe, what's remarkable is that his voice exists destincly between each project – his sol stuff is bluesy folk(Well until Bubblegum), with Screaming trees(Seattle grunge again) it's seventies garage/psychedelia, and with QOTSA its some bizarre devil's choir harmonies – I'm therefore reasonably disappointed that he's not with QOTSA. As we say in Scotland “ He disnae keep very weel”

I''ll make do with the rest of the band – who are fine musicians – and Josh Homme – as mentioned during the eagles of death metal – is one of the best touring musicians around today. They rattle through a set which contains very few singles. The audience don't mind – they are the people who have opted for QOTSA american desert rock over Scotland's very own Kaiser Chiefs. Like me and I pray anyone knows guitar based music(including the Kaiser Chiefs themselves), they know that the QOTSA are on a completely different level. They are involved with so much music – The Desert Sessions, Screaming trees, Mark lanegan, the eagles of death metal, mondo generator, Chris Cornells's solo band, Auf der maur – just try to follow this:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queens_of_the_Stone_Age

In two moves you can link them to almost any rock band in america. Matt Cameron played the drums with them – he now plays with Pearl jam. Easy see. I could market it as a board game.

They are very good, sound very good etc. I think i enjoyed the eagles of death metal better. QOTSA I have huge respect for but can take or leave. I prefer their side projects.

So it's back to the gang. Theya re looking a little down. One of their number ahs went home due to too much sun. In Order to cheer them up, I blow up some ballons and stick them in Luke Skye-trekker's T-Shirt. I then do the same for me. Everyone finds mine extremely funny. I think it's such cheap toilet humour I can't believe it – but anything to lift the atmosphere. People are now coming up and asking to photograph my breasts. I've also tied some ballons to a tent pole which is stuck in the back of my shorts and steadied by my backpack – now we can see ourselves on the big screen for green day – the festival closers.

So looking like a right haddie, we walk onwards, enjoying the shouts from passing T-in-the-parkers about my breasts and showing off my party trick of hold a pint in them. Having had breasts for around 1 hour, I now realise how much you dribble beer on them. Cleavage will never be the magical palce I thought i once was now that I know how much lands in it.

Fittingly – our last meal of T in the park – and my last in Scotland for a while is a bag of chips. They fall in the cleavage as well

We've met up with some college friends of Luke's, who given their inebriated state, add quite a lot of fun to the proceedings. We head off to Green day.

Green day are a strange band – they are loved and adored by 14 year old around the world. At 25, I was the first generation of 14 yr old to love them. I was 14 when dookie came out – we embraced its energy for a couple of years and then got bored with it. It resurfaced for me in about 1998 when I was in band who pretty much played the whole album as a warm-up. Like the ring – it disappeared from view for another few years. When I was a student, it was looked upon as some kids thing, as nimrod and warning were embraced by new sets of 14 yr old kids. It was no longer cool(if it ever had been) Now – every now and again dookie gets put back on, and I remember the barely 40 mins album where i know every drum beat, bass note and guitar chord. I even used dookie as a babysitting tool once in order to tire out a 5 yr old kid.

So green day take to the stage. I've never seen them live. By the time I was old enough to go(14yr olds could go to concerts in 1994), I was past that stage in musical development.



They play a two hour set – I jump and sing along all the way. I know almost every song even from the albums I never knew I'd listened to before. My jumping up and down is so much fun.

They are such great showmen. It's bizarre, they went from a reasonably controversial dope smoking(green day refers to a wasted day sitting smoking green I think) punk trio to a band who build their show around entertaining 14 yr olds. Its all very wholesome – but damn good fun. They bring a girl of about 7 up on stage to spray a super soaker at the audience. She gets scared when she stand on the podium, claps her hand above her head and the audience do the same. Its sweet – she gets such a fright when 70,000 people copy her. Power over 70,000 people must be scarey at that age.



A few songs later – Green day do their standard thing of bringing people on stage to play with them. This works really well – its's great fun, and the guitarist gets to keep the guitar. The look on his face is priceless, as green day return to the instruments around him and he left holding his heros guitar. Its also fascinating to see that despite the drummer being in time – theres a big differnece between in time drumming and in time professional drumming. It reminds you the gap between stadium quality musicianship and small club musicianship.

Purely fueled by adrenalin and jumping, I am about 20 m further forward than when i started.. The ballons come in handy, as everyone is able to stick with me and re-find me when lost. Unfortunately my jumping up and down has caused the flag pole to rip the arse out of my shorts, so not only do i have fake breasts, but my underwear is hanging out the back of my trousers.


I look around me and remember what a wonderful weekend it's been. The sun is slowly setting, and Green day have decided to close with “we are the champions” by queen. It is a beautiful thing. There are saltire's waving throughout the crowd, everyone's singing, its a real moment to be proud of being scottish, being alive, being at T, liking music. In less than 24 hours I'll be in Italy off on a new adventure, but Sean Astin's speech in the Goonies resonates for me. “this is our time”. Every 14 yr old kids music. Although I disagree with them, this is what stadiums were made for.



That would have been a great way to finish the weekend, but there one last adventure - the walk home. Luke has promised to try to catch a drum stick for a current 14 yr old kid. I'm sitting on the ground waiting for the crowds to disperse and nursing my calf muscles which were abused by trent reznor on thursday and then topped up by almosy every band I say from then on. The people I'm sitting with point to a scrum and point out that Luke – a rather big boy – is at the centre of it. He shouts for me and it's time to go into action.

I launch myself at a huge mass of 14 yr old kids who are desperately trying to get something off my mate. They are diving on as fast as I'm throwing them off. Luckily everyone is laughinag and having reat fun. I get my weight down amoung them and push them apart about 4 on each arm. Its now a struggle. I am assuming that since Luke isn;t that huge a green day fan(I don;t know about the drumstick), that this is something important like Jim Morrison's last bottle of Jack Daniels, Jimi's woodstock guitar or Eddie Vedder's pubes. Suddenly one of them shouts:

“quick him with the boobs = give him a wedgie”

Okay – enough is enough now we are getting nasty – i pre empt this by putting my forearm through the back of his boxers. The same is happening eot me – I am getting dragged of the ground by my own knicker elastic while hanging onto someone elses and throwing 14 yr olds out of the scrum, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Then they all disappear – the stick has gone. On to a new scrum. I lie laughing on the ground with Luke. Completely knackered. Not only do I have fake breasts, and no arse in my shorts, I now have no underwear either, but the weekend still isn't over.

We walk back to the tent with a severe case of the giggles. My one remaining balloon on the flag pole is our dog which we walk home.

It nearly bites a policeman. They just laugh.

The security dogs just look at us perplexed.

The girl we ask to watch it while we pee holds onto it – and wonders if we are serious when we promise her it won't bite.

She isn't quite sure what to think about this large hairy man with fake breasts, a bare arse and a balloon for a dog. Now thats how to end a weekend!!!!!!!

T in the Park Day 1

We wake up at about 7.30 – to the noise of the T-in-the-parkers who have already started. Seriously. There are people already drinking cans of Tennents(Hence the T in T in the park). The first thing you need when you wake up in a very hot tent with a hangover is a good drink of water, but unfortunately no one took my adivse to fill the water bottle last night. Opting that “I told you so” wasn't a good solution, I found that it was I and Luke – the hunter gatherers – who stood in the water queue for an hour and half. Everyone is thirsty – everyone is hungry – everyone is hungover – I want a coffee. Not a good start – we kind of laugh it up and put a smile on. Theres basically nothing we can do. When we finally get to the end of the queue we discover that the water pressure is such that there is no way we are getting much more than 4 litres in 20 mins of holding the tap. It's enough for our needs anyway.

Finally after some espresso – some fry up – more espresso – and a bacon roll – its time for the off. I actually enjoy the feeling of packing my rucksack with water for the day ahead – feeling like we are off on an adventure. One can of T has been left from last night in the cool box surrounded by ice. It may be the last cold can in a mile's radius for the next three days, so I feel compelled to take advantage of it. Even if it is only midday.

With this we march off on our new adventure, backpack and can of T in hand.

When we get close to the gate, we realise that everyone in the campsite has had the same idea as us; They want to go to T in the park as well. This comes as a surprise to some of the crowd. After retrieving wristbands for the remaining wrists we join the masses in a line to the gate. Although I'm up – the heat – the hangovers – the joys of camping – and the fact that theres other people at T in the park starts getting to some people. I'm determined to rise above it and enjoy myself – much to the annoyance(I suspect) of some of the rest of the party. The crowd are hungover as well. They are trying to stay up – but the hangovers, the heat, and the sellotape holding the bottles of alcohol to the inside of kilted and skirted legs are putting a damper on things. Theres a few attempts to get a rousing chorus of “Flower of Scotland” - the people's anthem, but nationalism is at a low at the moment. People are more concerned with calling for the fence to come down and shouting at the security. Eventually the crowd starts slowly chugging through. Theres the usual security to make sure people aren't taking in glass bottles or cans – I'm never sure if this is to ensure that proceeds from the bars are kept to a maximum, or to ensure that the man who was in Busted is not knocked out by an over zealous fan of alternative music.

Even arriving in the park feels good again – you know that everyone is here to party and have fun. My water supply for the day has been depleted in the queue, so we start by topping this up. Luckily we didn't need to use my first aid kit or mountain whistle, but should any band decode to play at the top of a munro – I'll be ready.

Since there are no band's which I/we am immediately interested in, we decide to go up the ferris wheel to check the lie of the land. I'm most interested in doing this to get a photo for the blog.









Thats Joss Stone you can see on the main stage from the bog wheel. There are still people flooding in. I later think it would have been a good idea to get up there when there was a big band on, but I'm not that keen. After the ferris wheel – it's time for food. The food stall's at festivals are wonderful – you have almost every cuisine represented and served from small chip van like structure. I opt for Vegitarian, on the theory that more effort has went into making it tasty – my theory is wrong.

Now is the start of the bands. It's a really hot day. The girls are all sitting on the grass refusing to move. I'm toying with going to see Audioslave.

I LOVED Soundgarden. No Seattle grunge can do wrong in my opinion. In terms of Chris Cornell solo efforts, "seasons" from the singles soundtrack was wonderful.(I would have loved a full album exploring this facet of what he did.) Temple of a Dog goes down as one of the greatest side project/tribute albums/bands of all time. Euphoria Morning(post-Soundgarden solo album), took me a while to get into, its not a wonderfully strong album, but is worth a listen..

Rage against the machine – I quite like, The first album is a classic in my opinion. After that – I can take them or leave them – but I have a lot of respect for them. Audioslave – I can take or leave. I find the melodies a bit obvious – cheap almost – theres not enough of the hooks which make me love Soundgarden and rage against the machine – but I respect them and give them a chance.

Initially, I considered not going to Audioslave. Everyone sitting doing nothing on the grass was bringing me down, and I didn't think it was the right mood to go and see musicians you like play songs you don't really feel, then I remembered that this was Chris Cornell. This man sang Jesus Christ Pose. This man wrote, sand and played on temple of the dog. This man sang and wrote burden in my hand. This man is good mates with Pearl Jam. This man wrote and sang seasons from the Singles Soundtrack. Theres no way I'm not going to see him.

Luke Skye-Trekker comes along with me. I think he's ready to see a band(We've been in the venue about 2 hours).

So – we wait around in the crowd. Quite near the front, cos as I know better than most people that Seattle grunge was never that popular in Scotland. Pearl Jam's Glasgow concert sold out in minutes in 2000, but this is more of a cross section of Scotland – some not even music lovers– which makes it more interesting. It feels good to be standing in a crowd again – waiting for the band to come on. The suspense is wonderful – it's not like going to a one off concert – this is much more different. You are more carefree about seeing bands, cos they are never the be all and end all of a weekend. I'm wondering how much I will enjoy Audioslave. After a few songs the novelty of who these people are will probably wear off – but if the manage to keep the energy up – i will probably enjoy it.

Out the come – and that sound which sounds like a ruler being played with on a school desk tells us that they are opening with Cochise – Audioslave's first single, and in my opinion, they're only great song. Its emense – the crowd, including me, go wild – not only am I seeing Chris Cornell, and Tom Morello for the first time – I'm seeing a band of the quality of Led Zeppelin. It really makes a difference – this is one stogn sound – you can describe the feeling you get, but you know that while I'm going to listening to British indy rock bands all weekend – it's a rarity to find such a high quality band.

Cochise – The only truly good song by Audioslave. The silly buggers have started with a climax. They can only go down hill from here. Setlist suicide – if you open with your best song – you better have some high quality stuff planned for a follow up. They can't do it – no way.

What happened next cannot be described in words. I have jokingly shouted “Jesus Chirst Pose”(An old Soundgarden song) a few times. The good news is people joined in. I never expected that follow such a high start as Cochise they would go higher.

With the opening riff, I come close to fainting:

SPOONMAN

If you don't know I can't describe – very rocking – very good soundgarden song, which because of it's easy – but wonderful sounding riff – I play on the guitar every time I test that my dropped D tuning is close-ish. Its amazing – different from Soundgarden – but still very powerful. The crowd go wild – I'm chuffed to bits. The crowd still understand good music when they hear it. There's come young people singing along etc. Scotland's music taste is doing okay while I'm away. Okay – It's spoonman – a single, and on MTV quite a lot. Lets see them go wild for Outshined or something. But I'm so high on adrenalin.

These guys are pros – we now get like a stone. If they'd opened with that – I would have sang along, not that interested, but given the hit of music they have just given me, it has suddenly become a deep meaningful song that the whole crowd sings with all it's heart.

We then get a few Audioslave songs, including the one form the new album which opens with a G and then A(I think – same interval), and I can't listen to without wanting to sing Hey hey hey hey as it sounds like “Don't you forget about me” by Simple minds.

Tom Morello is wonderful. I loved his stuff – he is out there on his own – one of the few people who are still innovators. Luke – not a guitarist – several times asks me how he makes certain sounds. The truth is, I have no idea.

Eventually they get onto doing Bulls on parade. Chris Cornell leaves the stage, respecting that this is his time – either that or he needed a piss. Chris cornell can hold his own on the guitar – but seems to have decided on keep it in it's case for this project. Every person in the crowd is bouncing. They are just phenomenal. I wish Audioslave were more like this. Tom Morello encourages the whole crowd to put a fist in the air. His guitar says “Arm the Homeless”

Chris Cornell comes back on – to do some more Audioslave and introduce the band. The largest cheers comes when he announces that the Bass player is of Scottish stock on both sides of his family. We're such a cheap crowd – say Scotland and we cheer. He tells to keep our chin up concerning the bombings in London.



Chris Cornell comes out on his own – wearing a 12 string guitar – and does a wonderful rendition of Black hole sun, including getting the whole crowd to sing the outro repeatedly about 20 times in a row. This is real music, when you see acts like this and nine inch nails and QOTSA, you realise what a large difference there is between people good at their jobs and people bad at their jobs in the music industry.

Chris Cornellreally plays the crowd. He starts doing call and answer chanting “yeah” “yeah yeah” “Yeah oh yeah oh” then he does the trademark Chris Cornell scream which goes on for about two minutes. No way can the audience match it – but they all try. Very cool.

On comes RATMSS(Rage against the machine sans singer). With one opening chord and cymbol crash the crowd knows almost before the chord is half way through that we are now getting “killing in the name of” for people who have never been to a rock club since 1993, this is track 2 from RATM's first album. It is an anthem, and is played regularly in all but, the really really trendy rock clubs. It starts with the line “some of those who were in forces, were the same who burn crosses”. It suggests that many policemen in America are the same people who are involved with the Klan. It builds to a rousing call to arms until at climax(If you don't count the solo). The crowd, night club, house party, teenager in bedroom, is/are jumping/headbanging with all their energy and chanting “fuck you I won't do what you tell me” about 40 times in a row. It has ensured that RATM will always be music for very angry teenagers, and also ensures, that until the rock fan's of my generation are to old and frail to get out of bed – there will still be a dance left in us.

RATM have also ensured that they are one of the most radio banned groups in america.

So having had a pulled muscle in each calf from nine inch nails less than two days previous – I found myself ditching my bobble, and jumping as high as physically possible for the 10 minutes that the song lasted. The pain in your chest from the aerobic exercise can not stop what the music puts in you.

Now that was a set!!! T in the f*king park.

Its back to the grass dwellers, who seem to have enjoyed it from where they sat. I had played killing in the name of when we drove up in order to point out how important these people were – but I never thought they would play it. I realise that the four people I have just seen have over 10 platinum selling albums between them, and managed to play a set which almost nothing but hit singles and classic songs.

We now wander again – spirits are still low, but I have stopped noticing cos I'm still buzzing from Audioslave. Its is pretty difficult to get beer, because the queues for beer tokens are so long. Instead we walk around the shops. I want a vest top because it's so hot, and also my shirt is soaked from Audioslave. I can't find anything, but I buy a bandanna, to save my scalp from sun burn. Coming your hair with a sun burned scalp is horrible!! We manage to hear a little of Jimmy Eat World while some people are off to the toilet. I only know/like the song “Bleed American”, so I'm quite chuffed to hear it.

After about an hour of donnering about, its time to get stuff together to see the killers. I'm not too bothered, but they are the “in” band at the moment, so everyone else wants to see them. Unfortunately – the everyone includes the whole of T in the park minus diehard fans of the Coral. We stand quite far away at the side. The sound is terrible. In order to be sociable, and not to get split up going to see an unknown band. About half way through I realise what a strange experience it is watching a band with about 60,000 of your countrymen, and being the only one who doesn't know all the words and hasn't heard the songs before. It's strange being that far from your own home culture. It also says a lot about the geographic nature of success in the music industry. This said I wouldn't actually know any words to Dutch pop music. Maybe I'm just not cool.

They end with a song which has a refrain; “I got soul, but I'm not a soldier” or something along those lines. It's the chant of the weekend with people shouting it out randomly at each other – the only rival is something by the kaiser chiefs which i've forgotten already. The killers ain't bad. They are good at what they do – far too British for me – even tho they are American. I can't help thinking Audioslave was better.

I do however get the chance to take a look around and get a photo of someone's “who the fuck is Mick jagger?” flag:



We now have the first time of the weekend where the crowd is in the same place at the same time. We try to get to the bar, but its not our choice, we move with the crowd, carried.

We now have a more free time until the next band that people want to see – keane. I get a well needed beer and some thai food. It is the best food I've tasted from all the cuisines, but it does pretty much guarantee that I won't be able to make it through the weekend without having to use a festival toilet.

It's now time for Keane. I'm on the fence with Keane – i think they write very good pop songs with some nice hooks, but they very much redefine boring. This said it's pretty good live act. We're near the back – but I still finmd myself really enjoying it.

The singer is quite funny. He was very genuine in his thanks for how much he likes Scotland, and how they have supported them. You kind of want to give him a cup of tea and tell him everything would be okay. Basically – not bad – I'll look forward to their next trick in sustaining it. Album number 2 should be interesting.

Now we only have the headliners left. The option of going to see James Brown exists. Most of the people there have already seen him, and it is also in the tent. If you have ever been in a rubber tent on a hot summers day packed with 10,000 drunk scots, you'll know it's not that nice an experience. I'm pretty sorry I'm missing him, but you can't see everything.

I decide that the foo fighters are a better option

As a teenager, I loved Nirvana, then the media killed them for me. I return to them every now and again, but generally, I can get the same kick off several other bands. It does however mean that I can return to Bleach and love it because I've been away for so long. Anyway, this has nothing to do with Nirvana, it just serves as the reason I bought foo fighters first single on the day it came out.

I watched with baited breath as "this is a call" was released. It was breath of fresh air, I quite liked it. The following album was good, but not groundbreaking. It established the Foo Fighters as something greater than a Nirvana follow up, but it wasn't until "the colour and the shape" that I really thought they were great. I have played almost every track on that album in various bands. They are great songs to play... Monkeywrench everlong, etc.

After this, I stopped listening as much. I don't mind someone putting on one of the albums, but they didn't have any standout tracks to me.

About this time, Foo fighters became this stadium rock band, who wrote pretty high quality, intelligent, 70's influenced rock. Dave Grohl has achieved what very few others have achieved. He's managed to make you forget that he was in one of the most influential bands of recent times. Congratualtions!!!

The truth is that I don't remember much of the Foo fighters at T in the park except to say that they were really good. Often by this point you are looking at your watch waiting for them to finish – but the time flew by. They played the new single “Best of you” a song that really grew on me over the past few weeks. They also played monkeywrsench – this is a call, breakout, everlong – I couldn't reallly have asked for a better set.



I saw them once before, when they were touring for the first album. They were supporting the Prodigy. This was sometime in Late 1995 early 1996. Dave grohl had far less confidence back then – he was hiding under a beany hat. Now he is the all conquering Dave Grohl – who plays drums on so many good stuff. Dave Grohl is one of those guys that gives you a reason to read the liner notes. He crops up on everything from Queens of the stone age to nin. He's alos played with Pearl Jam before – making him a very lucky guy.



In the foo fighters he passes the tub thumping duties over to the extremely adept Tayler hawkins. Tayler Hawkins and Dave Grohl are the foo fighters – I couldn't tell you anything about the other two.(Or three – who knows). Near the end – Dave Grohl announces that a far better singer than he is going to come on stage. It's Tayler Hawkins. He switches places with Dave Grohl to sing a song. Tayler Hawkins is such a show man. He has the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. He says that he needs to warm up - so he does the freddie Mercury eh oh stuff calling and answering. Maybe it's to prove that he can do a chris cornell – he ends with a scream. Since Dave Grohl almost definitely knows Chris Cornell – I would imagine that the two bands were back stage together.

It works magic! The crowd can't get enough of Tayler Hawkins. Even when he's back at the drum's he's shouting “ehhhhh oooooohhh” They then close the show(With breakout I think), and it's time for home.



Not a bad day - Audioslave were the highlight for me,a nd it's hard not to enjoy the foo fighters. We have a burger on the way back to the tent and then sit with a few beers and some JD's and coke, ready for our next day of T.......

On the road to T

Waking up with calf muscles so sore that I can hardly walk,. And a ringing in my ears, it';s time to pack fro T in the park. In the few hours that I am home, I need to put a wash in, as I've not had time to wash my conference clothes since leaving Vienna. I'll then pick them up on return from T in the park. This is one of the little publicised elements of travelling – when are you meant to do your washing to prevent you either smelling, or only wearing new clothes. Moan Moan Moan.

Anyway – I pick up the bundle of tents, sleeping bags, and general camping accouterments which I left there on return from Skye(I'm so organised!!!), and throw them in the back of my mates care. We have encountered our first problem. This is a vauxhall corsa, we have three people yet to pick up, and the boot is now full. But what the hell – we're going to T in the Park!!!!!!

T in the Park is Scotland's music festival. It started in 1993 or 1994(from the Ash's of the Tennants live summer events based in Glasgow, but my first year was 1995 when I got to see many of the people who would become Brit pop heros perform in front of three students and a sheep. My first year included – Skunk anansie, Dodgy, Supergrass, Ash, the prodigy, and various other bands which weren't famous then, got a little bit more famous, and are not famous now. In those days the concert was in Strathclyde park, near a place in Scotland called Hamilton, but now it is Balado near a place called Kinross. It has grown each year. It now has 70,000 attendees, so I would assume that in 1995 it was closer to 20,000. I have been to various years in between with friends who have came and went, and I have seen many a band. What is more important is the atmosphere, of 70,000 drunken scots in a campsite/music festival.

So we head off to pick up our fellow happy campers. It's a real challenge, as they have even more than we do, but we manage and head off in the direction of Glasgow. We stop at Asda to stock up on food etc. I warn that everything that we buy has to go on people's knees. Despite this warning we manage to fill a whole trolly.(A lot of which I must admit was beer). So the next leg of the journey takes place with three extremely squashed passengers ;in the back of the car. The journey up is pretty good fun – helped not least by the iTrip and iPod combination. By the time we get to Kincardine bridge we are in a Traffic jam, but you already know that these are all fellow T-in-th-parkers so you don't mind so much. This is however the start of the Queuing. We wave at passing pedestrians in small sleepy towns, we wave at fellow travellers. Generally there is a good fun atmosphere as we

Eventually we arrive at the T in the park car park. Now the fun really starts. We have about three car''s full of stuff to make our weekend more enjoyable. We have got to get this stuff from the car park to the camp site. We don't know how far it is, but in order to get settled down(i.e. Have a beer) as quickly as possible, I take as much as I can, and set off. Very soon, I realise that we have quite a way to go until we get to the campsite. Everyone's pace slows, as it becomes clear that this is no short walk. Several rests and unhappy faces later, we finally get to the first stage of security. We have to empty out all our glass bottles into plastic milk cartons. This includes, vodka, red wine, white wine and lambrini – we have just increased the amount of bottles we have which makes carrying things even more awkward. The pace is slowing to something approximating reverse, and my beer is getting further away, while simultaneously destroying my shoulder muscles.

Once through the first ticket secure area, I decide to take matters into my own hands. I will take all the stuff I have and run ahead with my fellow Skye-Trekker to a pitching site. Once this is done, I'll run back and then make the way back with the girls with a more even load while Luke Skye-Trekker is pitching the tents. As a Scottish boy and fisherman I can trust him to do this. I can also trust his pride as a male not to complain about not getting the rest that the girls get – even tho we all need it just as much.

This seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. We are now multi-tasking. I trust that we now have manageable baggage, and the tents will be pitched when I return. I return to the heavy faces of the girls and take the stuff back.(That beer has to be getting closer!!!)

It's now about 11pm. The people around me are getting drunker, and I'm regretting leaving so late, getting stuck in Traffic, and bringing so much stuff. Eventually guide the girls to the pitched tents. Nearly time to sit down and start dinner while other people go back and bring more stuff from the car. We also have a new task. We have to exchange our ticket for a wrist band. This is reported to take a few hours, and This will have to be done before we can return to the car. So I am not over the moon when I realise that all my fellow campers have lost their tickets on the route from the ticket security to the tent. I am the only person left with a ticket, so I have to go and get a wrist band myself, and also go and get all the stuff from the car myself, I set off to go get more stuff in order that I can finally sit down for a beer. The wrist band queue is skippable. Sorry to anyone who queued for a while, but needs must.

A very very very tired and not-so-happy camper returns to the campsite after the 3 mile or so walk with the remaining stuff myself. I've had to mull over going to T in the Park tomorrow myself, that they will probably not want to sit in the tent all weekend and go home, and that I could have spent a lot less money going to concerts myself closer to Amsterdam. My arms are agony. I carried extra stuff on the way on the understanding that it would speed things up. Now I have carried about 3/5 of the stuff for 5 people. I'm feeling heavily hard done to. My only comic turn is in the security tent where I get frisked – maybe cos I'm on my own.

With a face like fizz I nod grumpily to all the questions “any sharp objects?”, any drugs?” “any bombs?”. Standard crap. I'm used to traveling and putting up with the mundane – but now I'm in Scotland. We have a need to cheer each other up. He sees that I am pissed off and adds “Any porn – hardcore or softcore?”. It's T-in-the-park, no matter your mood, you are part of a team – the Scottish team – determined to have a good time – even the security is part of that. I answer “You buying or selling?” with a smile. You can't be grumpy here. People just don't allow you. You have to be very determined to have a bad time, it's against the security rules.

So I return to the campsite, not really that pissed off, but determined to let everyone know how annoyed I am with them, and how much they should appreciate my efforts, when they couldn't handle a third of what I did, not because I'm fitter, just because it has to be done, and standing about moaning about it doesn't get it done. Maybe traveling has hardened me.

The good news is that they have found the tickets. Someone found them on the ground and handed them in. This is astounding. Touts are selling tickets outside for at least £300 and there was 4 tickets there. I finally get my beer(albeit a little warm), and I get to cook a good beef stew to the amazement of many drunken campers passing and wondering why someone is chopping red onions and crushing garlic.





After a good feed and a few beers, everybody's happy and we chat until the early hours before going off to bed looking forward to the weekend to come........

nine inch nails - Barrowlands Glasgow

Wow!!!! Just home from nine inch nails at the barrowlands in Glasgow. It’s been a while since I was in the barrowlands, never mind such a good concert.

Having barely been in Amsterdam 12 hours, it was time to head off to Scotland for T in the Park. As I left last week, I noticed in the paper that nin were playing at the barrowlands on the day I was coming over for the Scottish music festival. By now 7.7.05 will probably have been made in to 9/11 by the UK media. I was traveling that day, and all I felt was numbness to it – maybe denial as a protection measure(I found out in an airport – I don’t/can’t start worrying about Armageddon) or maybe I just can’t handle the media. Anyway – who wants to self analyse before a nine inch nails concert.

Nine inch nails were always a little heavy for me – but when contemporary music is shit, you tend to revisit older music you had dismissed. I always liked the idea of nin, but was put off a little by how hardcore the fans were. I have pretty hate machine, but had to be in the mood for it. Now heavy is not as heavy as it used to be, and I augmented my music collection with the new album “with teeth”. It blew me away – I keep on meaning to get round to writing a review of it on here. All in all, its avery well put together album of good intelligent music, the likes of which I’ve not heard in a good while. If you’re not sure, listen to the first track – “All the love in the world”



So I decided that since I was arriving in Scotland for T in the park today, that I would try to go and see them at the barrowlands – they are playing in the Netherlands, but it is in Nijmegen – which is far away(By NL standards). Traveling from Vienna to Amsterdam – Amsterdam to Glasgow, and then picking up a mate and going and buying tickets from touts, felt very rock and roll. The price I paid from touts was stupid, but that’s the price you pay for being too busy to keep your ear to the ground.

The touts are pros. They all have English accents, but I don’t doubt for a second their ability to hold their own in the east end of Glagsow. He tells me that the ticket is standing that he has no seated tickets. Anyone who knows the Barras(Glasgow speak for the Barrowlands), knows that there are no seats – I find this pretty funny. Also – while I’m doing the deal, he starts to inquire about nin. He realises I’m not daft, so tells me that he’s been doing this for years, and he’s never seen an audience like this he asks with what is almost fear in his voice “how heavy are this band??” I try to explain that they are dark, but I think visual gamuts mapped onto aural textures is too much for him to handle.

I’ve picked up an old friend from school. If I’m not the traditional nin listener, then she really isn’t, but she is a fun loving full of energy bouncy person, who I think knows that you should listen when I say some music is going to be good.(Okay – I was a little worried that it wouldn’t be up to scratch).

Walking up to a queue of nin nails fans outside the barrowlands ballroom was wonderful – it’s a site I’ve seen so many times. The Barrowlands ballroom, is a 1930’s(???) ballroom in a very rough area in the east end of Glasgow. It was the battleground for the Glasgow razor wars, it was where Scotland’s serial killer bible john found his victims, but more importantly it is one of the best music venues in the UK. I’ve seen in excess of 30 bands here. By the time I was living in Glasgow, I was going to any concert that I could until I overdosed on too many mediocre bands – but tonight is something different. It feels like a sold out concert.

The audience, because it’s nin, are a complete freakshow. This is a compliment – for some time, Glasgow has had a group of teenagers, who have embraced a watered down version of goth fashion and sat outside the modern art gallery in Glasgow. I always thought I’d be so pissed off if I was a real goth, that these neds(Scottish for delinquant – but far more descriptive), had stolen my alternative and made it mainstream – but tonight we see that there is a big difference between the real and the fake.

Apart from the almost compulsory base colour of dark black, everyone is their own fashion. There is a PVC basques, torn suspenders, high heels, platforms, dreadlocks, and just about everything you can imagine, but it has far less of the fake that it used to have when I was getting bored with concert going. This is far more real.

The friend who is with me is getting the value of her ticket pricing by people watching alone. The first band is some hip hop thing. I don’t even give it a chance. I prefer to soak up the atmosphere and catch up. We stand in amongst the incoming crowds moving from toilet to bar to cloakroom to stage. We feel rather underdressed, but it soon becomes clear that almost everything is acceptable.

There’s a lot of firsts. I think I may have been the first person to attend a nine inch nails concert with a girl wearing white. It’s so much fun taking in the atmosphere. I reminisce about pre/early Brit pop where there was camaraderie with your fellow concert goers. I blame oasis. Concerts became acceptable domains for “lad” culture, and everyone was far more protective of their space, but tonight feels so much different. Maybe cos it’s been a while, maybe cos almost everyone here is an individual so appreciates the other individuals. It feels good anyway.

It’s 9pm, so time for Trent and the boys to take to the stage. The stage set has three microhphones, a kind of computer/synth/keyboard booth, and a matte Black drum kit. This makes me laugh – glass black would have been too happy I think. As we stand quite near the front, lights down, crowd energetic, we have what I belive to be another first. As a result of discussing Evanescence and my inability to get really into bands with female singers, one of our number(lets face it – it wasn’t me), is singing Joni Mitchell as Trent Reznor takes to the stage. Live Goths will be rolling in their coffins.

We start with a blue light on a piano playing reznor in the middle of the stage before we are introduced to the real sound.

The band are LOUD. I’ve been to a lot of concerts. I’ve ruined my hearing and need things a little louder – but this is LOUD. The guitars are loud at almost every frequency across the spectrum – reminding us what a guitar should sound like. The guitarist is pretty goo – we also have lots to watch – he jumps arouns a lot and seems pretty angry with his guitar. The drummer is the epitomy of an 80’s skinny goth, even down to having half long hair and half shaved head. Twiggy Ramirez(I don’t know his post Manson name) is quiet(as a good bass player should be), but along with the drummer keeps things grounded. The drummer has a kit constructed of both analogue and digital elements – this works so well, cos it allows the changes of timbre and pace, and orchestration which reznor can do so well.



I can’t remember the set list. I’ll get it on line later. Hand that feeds was fairly early – and so so good. They also did closer, head like a hole, the collector, terrible lie. They played for about 2 hours – maybe more. I’m not sure. It’s all a bit of a blur.

I am now hobbling around home preparing for T in the park with a pulled muscle in my calf from jumping up and down to head like a hole. My ears are still ringing – but It was so so good. I’ve not had a concert like that in a very long time. The spontaneity, the crowd, the venue, old friends – all wonderful. What a good way to start a weekend of music.

Here's the setlist:

1/ Pinion (Intro)
2/ The Frail
3/ The Wretched
4/ You Know What You Are?
5/ The Line Begins To Blur
6/ March Of The Pigs
7/ Something I Can Never Have
8/ The Hand That Feeds
9/ With Teeth
10/ Terrible Lie
11/ Burn
12/ Closer
13/ Reptile
14/ Love Is Not Enough
15/ The Collector
16/ Suck
17/ Even Deeper
18/ Gave Up
19/ The Day The World Went Away
20/ Hurt
21/ Wish
22/ Starfuckers, Inc
23/ Head Like A Hole