I'm going to see you soon in Amsterdam

Nelle and I arrived from Berlin on a Eurolines bus at 4.40am. We killed a few hours until we could store our luggage, and then we walked off down unknown cobblestone paths, narrow streets winding in unpredictable directions, crisscrossing quiet black canals, the sky still dark and streetlamps swinging in the chilly morning breeze, everything feeling like a shanty town of long ago, half expecting drunken sailors to fall out of alleyways, yet nobody around but bakers and early morning bike riders, red lights still glowing over doors and in basements, an occasional glimpse of posed and exposed women who shift quickly to natural stance as the faces of two travel-weary girls peer curiously into windows, and then slowly the colour changes in the sky above the tall, narrow apartment buildings with black, red, yellow window frames and tasteful brickwork, and the signs of life come in the form of bicycles shooting over the bridges, one, two, threefour, five, six, and the people are old, young, male, female, hipsters, mothers with children in wooden prows that make the bikes resemble the small boats now moving about on the canals, and Nelle and I are exhausted, hungry, cranky, starting to clutch at fraying edges, when finally we find a buffet breakfast and gorge on beans, toast, eggs, muesli, yogurt, fruit, coffee, tea, juice, chocolate milk, and we even sneak some apples, oranges, gingerbread and a boiled egg, still shelled, into our bags for the long day ahead. and it was a long day. we walked for 15 hours, mostly mapless, saving our euros for food and warmth, completely without a plan except to meet our couchsurfing host from Utrecht at 9pm. everything was hilarious. reaction time was slow. no drugs were needed, except caffeine. we watched some ducks for quite a long time. we discussed what was insane, including ourselves. we bought hats at a flea market. and finally, we ate expensive thai food - delicious, expensive thai food - as a celebration of our friendship and what we've seen and done. living in central europe, travelling east, travelling west, and between us north and south as well, and now we are just a few days away from saying goodbye for now, not forever.

Bedtime

My hair smells like bug spray. My eyes sting. My stomach is full of fried cheese and stale bun. My bloodstream contains a few types of alcohol. Another successful night of erasmus partying. Last night at Mandarin. Tick. 3rd last night in Brno. Tick. It's all winding down. I'm going to miss my bed. I confessed this to a few other erasmus and they looked at me like I was crazy. But I like the novelty and practicality of the convertible bed/couch and the firmness of the mattress. And I have to admit, it's kind of nice to share a room with someone. Who knows what my living conditions will be like when I return. All I know is that this familiarity is about to come to an end and be filed away in memory. I'm not sad. Everything is impermanent. We're forever in the waiting room until we discover that's all there is. Then we live.

first snow

It's snowing in Brno. Looks like powdered sugar on the dirty streets and cars. I woke up this morning and hung out my window with my camera. Snowflakes swirled down between the two identical dorms. Everything was beautiful.

Round two of the fruit fly massacre.

1015 hrs

Status: critical, but improved greatly after last night's attack.
Fruit fly traps were moderately effective. The bodies have been disposed of and fresh traps laid. A third trap was established in Zone 1 of fruit fly territory. The trap in Zone 2 has been relocated to higher ground to draw their forces away from computer desk base camp. Little to no assistance from comrade. Status: dormant.

I don't know how much longer I can keep up the fighting spirit. I lost control last night and went on a killing spree at 0230 hrs, armed only with a plastic-covered guide to Iceland. I changed weaponry half way through - deflated milk carton also effective. If the enemy is not eradicated by Wednesday I will evacuate. Location: Vienna. My comrade will have to fight this battle alone. I wish her well. The enemy is entrenched in our territory and multiplying by the day. We're going to need everything we've got to win the war.

Over and out.

Happy Package Day

Last night I got back from London. Today I picked up two packages: one from Natalie, one from family. Both excellent. I now have zines, clothes, tube vegemite, drawings and letters. What could be better?

An architect in Helsinki

I am in Helsinki, Finland, couch surfing with an anarchist architect called Antti.

There is a big black hole in my blog between Reykjavik and Helsinki. That hole can be called either 'Brno, Czech Republic' or 'no internet connection.' Settling down for a while has been a challenge. When I left the Czech Republic a few days ago I felt heavy, worried, depressed. The moment I landed in Helsinki I was lifted, and have been feeling light ever since. Travelling is the best antidote for a heavy heart.

I am falling in love with the Czech Republic, if a little slowly and strangely. I'm addicted to the writing of Milan Kundera and I feel that his books will be an important part of the love affair. But enough of Ceska, now to Suomi.

This is my itinerary for today:
- Watch my host perform in a political street play about homelessness in Helsinki
- Trundle off to the park near his house in Kallio for a Food Not Bombs lunch
- Go and see the ex-mayor of Bogota talking about issues of urban change
- See an Estonian film for free (my host's girlfriend works in a cinema) as part of the Love and Anarchy film festival
- Drinking and dancing to Risto, a nerdy underground Finnish musician

The last time I was this busy was in New York. I like this city. Time to get ready!

I got rolled in Reykjavik

Last night I played a show to a handful of devoted fans. It was in a little cafe called Cafe Babalú which I have been hanging out at quite a lot. It's cosy, the German woman who runs the place is tiny and gorgeous and absolutely mad, and for one reason or another it attracts a lot of expats and travellers. I have made some great friends whiling away the hours in this place.

Of all the drunken nights I've spent in Iceland, last night was by far the best. Gerwyn came back from Akureyri. Me, Gerwyn and Derek (the half-French Californian) make quite a team. Derek is going off to be a ski instructor in Austria and Gerwyn is going to live in London, though not with his boyfriend as originally planned. I'm hoping we reunite in Austria for a weekend of alpine drinking.

After we were kicked out of the last bar at closing time (2am - Sunday night really is a return to the working week for Icelanders) we went back to my hostel to retrieve the last of my spirits and Derek went to his place for leftover pizza. This geezer from London called Terence came with us. He was inadequately dressed and I felt bad for him, so I lent him my beautiful lamb's wool mittens which I bought at the Blue Lagoon for 1500 Krona (around $21). He stood inside our hostel for a while - I went to pee, Gerwyn to make a sandwich, and when we came back, he was gone. With my mittens.

As we walked to the church to meet Derek I ranted about what kind of foul bastard steals someone's gloves, and Gerwyn said I had been rolled. Damn that guy! As we sat drinking in an alcove at the statue of Leifur Eriksson a man rode past on his bike and asked if we'd seen his friend. Derek seemed to know him and so he stopped to talk. I told this Icelandic man about Terence and said 'If you meet a guy from London called Terence and he has white mittens, please get him for me.' The man paused, got back on his bicycle and said, 'If I see him, I kick him' and rode off into the night.

Today I'm going to ride an Icelandic horse. I saw some from the bus yesterday when I went to the Gullfoss waterfall and the Geysir. Sadly, my camera ran out of juice shortly after I reached the waterfall. Damn not having an Iceland adapter! I will upload photos soon.

Dreaming of soup

I'm so hungry I dreamed about food last night. All kinds of soup for 175 Krona, which is ridiculous because that's AUD$2.40. It's more likely to cost 1750 Krona, or AUD$24. Everything is so expensive here, especially booze. So I've discovered the way to get drunk is not eat. I feel 16 years old all over again.

Last night I sat on a rock at the harbour with my new friend Gerwyn from Brisbane, the first Australian I've made friends with overseas, and we drank Jägermeister from the bottle. I put it out on the rock so it could chill properly. For real, it's about 7 degrees here at night and probably 9 or 10 in the day.

At a cute bar last night I met a guy called Derek who was given a job after just a few days in Iceland. Derek came here after doing some crazy snow trekking in the north of Sweden. He had his bag and visa stolen while sleeping in a park. The Icelanders say that's strange, because Iceland has a low crime rate, and so they think that perhaps it was stolen by another tourist or the Polish.

Soon I will investigate the washing machines, venture out to the supermarket to buy things that look like food and will most likely be labelled in Icelandic, and later I think a dip in the geothermal pools is necessary. Gerwyn told me about going to the pools and having to wash thoroughly in the communal shower before swimming. He forgot his towel and went back for it when he was confronted by a large Icelandic man who yelled at him and then lent him a towel. Gerwyn said he'd like to get yelled at in the nude more often ('it was very Auschwitz') and he was glad that even in Iceland there are still cranky bastards.

I am not a viking

OOOwwwwooowwwooowwwoowwOOwww. That is the noise of someone who carried possibly 60 kilos of luggage through the streets of Reykjavik at 9am which is actually 5am for her after being on a plane 5 hrs and not sleeping a wink. Oh yes. The ridiculous thing is that a taxi pulled up right after I started asking a guy for directions, and then I DIDN'T take the taxi because the man said it wasn't far to my hostel and I didn't want to look like a pussy. HA! That shows me for trying to prove my viking strength. As I laboured under the weight of my accumulated belongings I thought: 'What does not give you a back injury only makes you stronger.' I've hit a crisis point with my luggage. I simply have too much stuff. Books, mainly. I'm a travelling library. If I have one tip for travellers it is this: when you leave home, do not take any books. One if you must read on the plane. Before too long you'll be a book magnet.

I'm staying in a guesthouse which looks like it was a hospital in recent history - parts of the room have sections curtained off. It's a drab destination after the bus ride from the airport which took me past lava fields, moss-covered rocky terrain, mountains in the distance and rainbows over the ocean. I listened to Sigur Rós and felt euphoric. Iceland has been my biggest fantasy for so many years. And now, here I am.

Unfortunately, the problem with introducing fantasy to reality is that reality contains things which suck. Such as Iceland being expensive as all hell. But I can hardly complain about that - I knew what I was in for. And besides, my next stop is the Czech Republic, where I can recoup my losses and live like a queen.

One surreal day

I have discovered that I am a lazy traveller. I wake up late, spend hours getting ready (undergoing various routines of personal hygiene as well as copious and unnecessary electronic communication) and by the time I'm on the streets it's usually 3pm. Today started in much the same way. I called Lucas, sat around waiting for him to call back, practiced my awful Czech (really, I have no idea what I'm doing) and finally called Lucas to discover he was not going to accompany me to Kaiju. And suddenly I felt the lightness of my being. I was once again alone in the city, free to go where I want. Yesterday I went to the Louise Bourgeois exhibition at the Guggenheim, and I remember a quote of hers: 'People are always afraid of falling, so we balance ourselves.' In the same way, people are afraid of floating away, so we weigh ourselves down. The weight of other people is like the heaviness of a winter blanket. It's comforting, and when we pull it back we feel exposed. But enough of this faux intellectualising and on with the story of my surreal day.

I caught the F to Brooklyn to see the Kaiju Big Battel. It was described in Time Out as American pro wrestling meets Japanese comic book monsters. In a lot by a river in an industrial area, a fighting cage had been erected. People set up their own chairs from a stack against an old brick building. I wrote in my Moleskine for a while before making friends with a Welsh & English couple beside me. To kick off the show, Japanese punk band Peelander-Z played a raucous set. The band members were colour-themed (yellow, red, green and pink). When they started handing out a kit full of drum sticks and metal bowls I jumped right in, following people up onto the stage. Later, I sung (verry badly) into the mic as it went around the crowd: 'Ninja highschool!' I joined the worst conga line ever (punk is too fast for a conga line) and looked on as they played human bowling. I guess I knew what was coming when the set started with the drummer climbing up the fighting cage, down a nearby tree, and flipping onto me, knocking my huarache to the ground. His punk attitude slipped for a minute when he apologised for landing on me. Japanese punks are quite polite.

The real insanity began with the monster fights. People in amazing costumes paraded onstage and proceeded to beat the shit out of one another, all with the typical commentary and posturing you can expect from a WWE match. Monsters include: the Sea Amigos, Dusto Bunny, Dr Cube and American Beetle. Around the fighting cage were styrofoam and cardboard crates which the monsters smashed on each others' heads. The fights usually involved more than two monsters at any time. Referees were knocked unconscious. Monsters climbed the cage walls and leapt from great heights to land on their opponents. The bad guys fought dirty and the good guys always found strength to fight back just before the count of three. Dr Cube united with a human fighter, Chris Hero, and they won! I felt conflicted - Chris Hero was on the side of evil, but I talked to him before the fight and he was a nice guy! As the sky darkened, the spectacle drew to a close. Released from this mad world of nightmare creatures and staged violence, I caught the F back into Manhattan to face the reality of the city.

I got off at Broadway/Lafayette and, misunderstanding the way the subway stations were connected, I decided to walk up to St Marks Place. I wanted more Japanese action so I went in search of the $8 jugs Dan had recommended, but all the restaurants looked the same. I tried to call Lucas, left a message, decided that I didn't want to drink a jug alone and walked on to the vegan bakery I'd been meaning to seek out. At Whole Earth bakery I didn't know what to choose. So many declicious things! I thought about Ryan and all my other vegan friends (I can name you: Eva, Melisa, Liam...) and how they would drool for these delicacies. I chose a blueberry tofu cheese cake. Walking back down St Marks I found the restaurant Dan told me about and, lo and behold, some people I'd seen at Kaiju were waiting out front. I tried to call Lucas again and then decided that the birds of fortuity had alighted on my shoulders and these people were my new friends. I went up and talked to them - they recognised me and the weirdness of our meeting at this place and time. I asked if I could crash their dinner party and they consented. We drank $8 jugs and a $45 bottle of sake. I ate rice balls with seaweed and I discovered Meg shared both my interest in astrology and the same Moon as me (Leo). We also have in common an inner struggle between liking and not liking astrology. Neither of us would defend it in an argument. But the personality stuff (not the horoscope stuff) seems to be uncannily true. I told her something Jarvis Cocker said in concert when I saw him, about how you can feel two exact opposite things at the same time, and this is actually quite normal. I feel I balance astrology with post-structuralist philosophy. Haha.

Meg decided to come with me to the show I was going to at midnight. I didn't call Lucas. We walked down to the Here arts centre, bought $20 rush tickets, drank a complimentary cocktail, and were relocated from the stools to the front row. Then the surreal shit started up again. There's really not a lot I can say to describe the weirdness of 'Arias with a Twist.' A guy in drag, in some kind of fetish outfit, spinning on a hoop and surrounded by aliens. In the show: puppets, cardboard New York City, screens with lights and pictures projected onto them, changing backdrops, songs familiar and unfamiliar, plush scenery - a sequined 'disco mushroom' provides the impetus for a very trippy sequence of events, involving at one point super tall satyrs with large, plush genitals. The staging was amazing, to say the least. The plot and character development - nonexistant. But it was still entertaining. Arias sang like an old soul singer, very feminine and also very husky and expressive. He worked the audience and even suggested to one guy that they get some enchiladas after the show. At the end he brought out the puppeteers. Meg said they looked like elves.

And that was the end of my surreal day. It was unique New York. Despite its dirtiness, this is certainly a city where everything is happening.

Lollapalooza III and ensuing adventures

Soon I'll forget what happened on the third and final day of Lollapalooza, so it's about time that I updated this thing. You may be wondering why I didn't deliver on the night. There was a lot of rum involved.

I wanted to wake up early and get down to Lolla to see The Octopus Project, but it was not to be. I did arrive earlier than any other day, split with Dan while he hopped the fence (successfully, third day in a row) and went off to see White Lies and the following: Brazilian Girls, Amadou & Mariam, Saul Williams, Gnarls Barkley, The National, and Kanye West.

WL: Just after the first song ended I turned to Dan and said 'These kids should stick to the Joy Division sound and quit the emo shit.' They weren't all that bad, but their lyrics were a bit naff. Their last two songs showed a little more maturity. Again, the smaller stage seemed to overcompensate and pump out chest-pounding volume.

BG: Sabina came onstage wearing an amazing puffy white dress and holding a white parasol. They put on a very entertaining show, but in the heat I decided that the ground was the best place for me, and there I sat amongst the legs and shoes. I stood up right at the end for the song Dan had been waiting for, 'Pussy pussy pussy marijuana.' http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fd8we4UAogc

A&M: These guys were amazing! We arrived and jumped straight onto the back of a conga line that weaved through the crowd. When the line stopped we had an instant dance party and everyone went nuts to the beats. It was hot as all hell - I drank the rest of my water, sweated buckets, got a stitch and kept on dancing. I didn't take a single photo; I was having so much fun. When it was over we all looked at each other with goofy grins and shuffled off to the next band.

SW: If Sabina from Brazilian Girls gets the award for best dressed female performer at Lolla, then Saul Williams gets the award for best dressed male performer (and Wilco the best dressed band!). He wore a green t-shirt, yellow jeans and a blue feathered mohawk. He was all energy, running around stage, jumping on things, getting the crowd excited. We were packed into the tiny Citi stage area - a bad choice for the Saul Williams to Girl Talk schedule. When Saul finished there was a bottleneck of people coming and going. I kind of freaked out and pushed back through the crowd - a girl asked 'Are you for real?' My answer: 'Yes.'

GB: I was excited about hearing these guys perform some new stuff but sadly the crowd was not. I assumed that they were all hostile Kanye fans and gave up asking people not to talk, instead pushing my way to where it was loud enough. They were stingy with the volume for Gnarls - no doubt saving it all for stupid Kanye. So, a slightly disappointing show.

TN: I don't know these guys at all, but they have their fans. It wasn't a bad show, but I think you really need to know the music if it's slow and sad. Hearing these guys for the first time was not the most exciting thing in the world. But I am keen to have a private listen and reassess.

KW: Kanye was explosive. And who could expect any less? He's fairly committed to being the best thing you ever saw. I walked around the area trying to find a good vantage point and eventually decided to climb up another structure - this time a much smaller one. I held on with one arm while I used the other to punch the air. A guy below me kept looking up and grinning at me, so eventually I came down and had a chat to him and his friend. They were really into it - I pretended to know all the songs and danced along with them.

Later they told me they had both lost their cool jobs due to the economic recession. Bummer. We walked out of Lolla together and parted ways when I went to meet the boys from Missouri... who were nowhere to be found. I stood around awkwardly, wondering what to do, borrowed a cell phone from a Canadian who wandered off and had to call me to get the phone back. I patted a police horse, watched the Canadian's brother being fake handcuffed by a photo-happy policeman, thought about going up to some bars and eventually decided to head back to the ghetto in a taxi.

When I arrived home the kids from DC (who I had barely spoken to so far) offered me as much rum as I could drink. After barely eating for three days (I saved money by eating an apple for breakfast, free samples from the Whole Foods tent, and occasionally a midnight 6-inch sub) I was rather susceptible to the effects of alcohol. In a very short time I was plastered. And then, without warning, everyone went to bed, leaving me to stumble around the hose and write drunken emails. The next day, everyone cleared out and I sat around feeling sorry for myself. I was starving hungry, with no food and absolutely no desire to leave the house. All of my clothes were dirty. I was alone in the apartment. It was raining outside. This was most definitely the end of Lollapalooza.

I ordered Thai take out online with my credit card (why is this not available EVERYWHERE?) and then a great thing happened. I received a reply to a couch surfing request I'd made the day before, in an effort to get closer to the airport and avoid missing my plane to Toronto the following day. So I packed up, headed out and went to meet Matthew at his work at De Paul university. His co-worker gave me cheese and capsicum, an orange and a cup of tea. We sat around chatting until they had made up their 8 hours of work, and then headed off into most unusual weather - tornado warnings for Chicago! It rained and stormed on the bus home. Wind whipped down the street and lighting lit up the sky. Huge puddles formed on the roads. Matthew gave me his jacket in preparation for the dash to his apartment. When we arrived, I breathed a sigh of relief. Not only were we safe from the storm, his place was clean and nice and his house mates were lovely and friendly and polite. Matthew made me spaghetti-o's and a grilled cheese and we watched old episodes of the Simpsons. Chip baked brownies and I admired his domestic skills. Later, I played them some songs on the guitar and lulled everyone to sleep. It was a perfect night and I couldn't have been happier. I'm so grateful to Matt for taking me in and being such a nice person.

Lollapalooza was wonderful, but I felt like my time in Chicago had been quite confusing, sometimes depressing, rather limited by how far South I was staying, and generally not all that great. I did meet some lovely people and get to hang out with Dan again, but I never really saw the city. The public transport system was hard to navigate (and I like to think of myself as someone who 'gets' public transport) and I frequently got lost and disoriented. I thought of New York all the time and was disappointed by how unlike New York this Midwest metropolis was. In Chicago the birds of fortuity did not alight on my shoulders. But I did meet some great people, such as Seth from Arkansas and Heather from Toronto. The greatest fortune I had was meeting Matthew and his friends. A great start to my couch surfing adventures.

Lollapalooza II

When I consulted my timetable this morning I theorised that five was the maximum number of bands you can comfortably see in any one day at a festival. But compared to Friday, Saturday's music intake is halved. I don't have festival stamina. After a failed attempt to see MGMT (they should have played the main stage, it was so packed) and a last-minute decision to miss bands and wait for Okkervil River to sign my Moleskine, the ones I end up seeing are Foals, Okkervil River and Wilco.

F: What do Yeasayer and Foals have in common? Probably not that much apart from being the cool. These boys make me burn with ambition. I want to be the coolest. Foals play well and do some more of the jerky dancing which I guess is what the kids are doing these days. It's a shame that Foals songs all start to sound the same after a while, because they have a good thing going on.

OR: I bought my ticket to Lollapalooza mainly for these guys, although the other bands really sealed the deal. But standing in the crowd I realised that I don't know the Stage Names very well, only know one song pre-Black Sheep Boy, and don't even know all the words to my favourite songs off the latter. I wanted them to play something off the Stand-Ins so I could brag about getting a promo copy last month. Haha. Will Sheff puts in a good effort doing the rock star thing. Drummer Travis really does it for me though - he shakes his hair all over the place and pulls some very entertaining faces.

Next was supposed to be either Lupe Fiasco or Battles but I chose instead to wait by the signing tent to see Okkervil River. I had some half-arsed idea about getting into their sold out show. It was not to be. However, I did get to chat with the bass player for quite some time as we queued. I told him about the promo copy and he grilled me about leaking it online. I said no way, however I am only 90% sure, as I did give a certain gift to a certain hairdressing bassist from a certain band from Montreal... Also got pictures with Travis and Will. Conversation with Travis:
T: So your name is Madeline? That figures.
M: Why?
T: Australians always have cute names... for cute people.
M: (Blush)
I think that was the best part about meeting Okkervil River, who my friend calls Overkill River.

W: These guys were fantastic. They are the best dressed band I have ever seen. They wore these amazing rhinestone-studded suits with different motifs for each band member. Jeff Tweedy was in red with yellow maneki neko design. Other suits as follows: navy blue with sailing ship, killer whales and intertwined ropes, black with skull and bones, green/brown with cricket, white with dragonfly, strange neon yellow/green with owls. God, they were beautiful. Tweedy made lots of cracks about how they had been busy sewing, and no other bands had sewn as much as they had. They churned some butter while they were at it. 'Sewing is fun!' yells someone from the audience. I once embroidered that exact sentiment on a shirt. In the crowd I gravitate towards some nice people, Seth and Heather. He is from Little Rock, Arkansas; she is from Toronto, Ontario. They are blog friends that meet for music festivals. What a great relationship.

At the end of the night I meet up with Dan, Max and Ryan. The third member of the Missouri group, Brook, has somehow managed to meet Bloc Party and have himself invited as a guest to the sideshow with CSS. Damn that kid!

My plans for getting up early to see The Octopus Project may have been foiled by this very blog entry. Double damn.

Lollapalooza I

Yeasayer. Gogol Bordello. Bloc Party. Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks. Radiohead. Day one of Lollapalooza in Grant Park, Chicago.

Y: Cute hipsters with some good sounds. Frontman Chris Keating is fun to watch. He touches the synth like it's giving him an electric shock. I am standing right near the front to the right, and I become slowly deaf in my right ear from having my head turned slightly to watch Keating. Lolla sound is heavy on the bass and drums, and after an hour of Yeasayer pounding in my chest I'm happy to get very far away from the stage. It's 3 in the afternoon. Everyone is melting, burning, sweating, shirtless. Dan and I go to the Whole Foods Market tent and they give us free olive chips. We nap in the shade.

GB: These Eastern European/Lower East Side gypsies are a lot of fun. Eugene Hütz is like a sexy pirate-gypsy Borat. When they sing 'Start Wearing Purple' fans wave purple t-shirts in the air. Hütz gets shirtless. He is very fit. In the crowd people sing and dance. I think about Claire and take lots of pictures.

BP: Their set is a bit up and down; at times lacklustre, other times energetic. Some people sing badly in my ears and I wish that the sound people would turn up Kele Okereke's vocals. Kele is splendid in Obama t-shirt, bright red shorts and sweet Nikes (SB dunks?) in orange, yellow and black. The camera zooms in on his sneakers and I yell 'Nice kicks!' and some kids turn around and give approving smiles. I take a lot of photos of the giant TV screens, but I can also see Bloc Party in miniature when the crowd parts.

SM & J: I love the Malk. He's a beautiful man. Tall, thin, guitar skills and dashing good looks. Permit me a tangent: on my first night in Chicago I met Brook at Vito & Bruno's apartment. Brook came from Missouri with friends Max and Ryan. When I met Brook he was drunk and had vomited all over himself on the train. He was wearing a Sonic Youth t-shirt and I told him about seeing them with the Feelies in Battery Park on July 4. We traded taste in music for a while and hit Stephen Malkmus and Pavement. At this point Brook grabs my upper arm and kind of squeezes with his fingers in a spidery way. This is apparently how he shows appreciation. Brook has a very large man crush on Malkmus, and for good reason. The Malk has the skills. He played a great set with the Jicks and I only wish I knew more of his stuff. He does play Pencil Rot and Baby C'mon off Face the Truth. Looooong guitar solos. At the end of the set Stephen says 'OK you can go and see Radiohead now' - most people are already there as the Malk finishes just before Radiohead start. Don't worry Stephen, I came just for you and laughed when the guy behind me yelled repeatedly 'Fuck Radiohead!'

R: WELL. From low expectations I was catapulted to extremes of musical fulfillment. Me and Radiohead go way back. I've been a fan since I was 12 years old. When I saw them play in Sydney on the Hail to the Thief tour I was sadly disappointed. I missed out on floor by a second, I'm fairly sure they didn't play my favourite song and after waiting for so many years to see them, the tension killed my chances of enjoying the show. After this terrible anticlimax I decide to see other bands, and Radiohead and I part ways. By the time that In Rainbows is released, I feel we've been separated long enough and we start to see each other again in a casual, friendly way. Sometimes we have run ins on the street and it's like, Hey Radiohead, haven't seen you in a while. How's everything going? Nothing too serious.

AND THEN. Watching the stage from very far back, perched uncomfortably on the right angle of two fences, I realise that I know all the words to all the songs and so I know Radiohead better than any other band at Lollapalooza. The barricade I'm perched on surrounds a metal structure with a large hot air balloon at the top. I'm not really sure what the balloon is there for, but I notice that the metal frame is perfect for climbing. I propose my plan to the stranger sitting next to me. He's interested, but worried about security. So I bide my time and work up the nerve. He leaves and about 15 seconds later Dan shows up. I ask him if he wants to climb and he says yes, straight up, and we go. It is even easier than I thought and we end up with a view over the crowd to the stage, perfect sound quality and front row seats for the fireworks that ensue. Soon after our daring escape from the crowd below, people begin to appear on the frame. For the next few songs the structure becomes crowded with people. On the ground they gape and take photos. We start a second story on structure, and we begin to resemble a family of monkeys hanging out in a tree.

The absolute highlight of my night (of my life) is when they play Lucky. My favourite song. And I am the king of the Radiohead's Tower (named after the Sear's Tower, ever present on the Chicago skyline). I sing at the top of my lungs with not a care for those around me; it's too loud for anyone to here me anyway. I film the whole thing, but my camera moves around wildly as I punch the air, turn around to film the family, and carry on in various ways. I am filled with ecstasy. It's the pinnacle of my life - my favourite song, sung by my favourite band, and I'm in a city far from home, being independent, hanging out with a kid I met along the way, and I was bold and went out on a limb (literally, on the structure) and I am doing what I want to do and I am happy. It was a moment I will not forget too soon. It's gonna be a glorious day.

Leaving for NY

Today, Montréal cries for us. Jo, Jason, Claire, Dane and I leave for
New York tonight and on our last day here in Montréal it has rained
endlessly. I am sad to leave, but I'll be back next month, so the
heartbreak is on hold.

Montréal is a beautiful city full of cafés, bars, restaurants and
shops with character. The houses are painted bright colours and have
winding iron staircases up to the balconies on two stories. There's
always something to do and see, without it being overwhelming. It has
been very warm - sometimes as hot as our summer in Australia.

We stayed with my parents' friend Anik in Longueuil which is just over
the bridge from Montréal. Every day we got up late, bummed around, and
went out in the afternoon when it started to cool down. Then we drank
beer, ate poutine and came home on the last metro or crammed into a
cab. We hung out in the downtown area of the city - the Latin Quarter,
the Plateau, the Gay Village, and just on the edge of the very hip
Mile End. Our favourite pubs were Foufoun Electrique (electric arse)
and Casa del Popolo, which had bands and tasty nachos and samosas. We
tried poutine from three places: Patati Patata (blah blah), Burger
King and a 24 hr place the name of which I cannot remember, most
likely because it was last night after several pitchers of beer.

Yesterday I met my long-time internet buddy Daniel La France. We've
been friends online for around 8 years and yesterday we met in person
for the very first time. I thought it would be weird, but with the
miracle of Facebook he already seemed familiar. We ate some hommus and
drank beer at Casa, then walked to Mile End for fresh bagels from a
famous 24 hr bagel place. I had cinnamon and raisin, and it was chewy
and delicious. then we went down to Old Montreal to meet the rest of
the gang, buy some beer and watch the fireworks. I think the friend
date went very well. haha. he is also on this email list, so forgive
me Dan for writing about you as if you are not also reading this
email.

There are festivals on the street in Montréal every day. After their
brutal winters, Quebecois like to squeeze every drop of fun out of the
summer days (and nights). One festival, Jus pour rien (just for
laughs) brought Irish comedian David O'Doherty to a little theatre on
St Laurent. He was on spicks and specks a few times:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pz4f_e02RFM
He is a very funny man and I love him. Afterwards we waited outside
like creepy stalkers and then when he came out, we jumped him! I mean,
we shook his hand. And then something very strange happened... I
started laughing, and I couldn't stop. For the 5 minutes we talked to
him I laughed hysterically. I asked for his autograph and he drew a
picture of all of us. And Claire took a photo. As we climbed higher
and higher into socially awkward territory, my hysteria grew. He
promised us free tickets to his show when he comes to Sydney next year
and I said, 'I promise next time I'll laugh LESS' (meaning if I ever
meet him again I will try hard not to be a massive dork) but that only
served to further confuse a very confusing moment of human
interaction. One of Dave's jokes during the show was about what ROFL
means, and as we walked down the hill I screamed 'I'm going to ROFL!'
because I could barely walk. and only 15 metres away from Dave I sank
to the ground, belongings scattered, and had to be pulled up to my
feet. Hilarity. Rather embarrassing hilarity.

And so...

Highlights of our week in Montréal:
-Climbing to the top of Mount Royal and seeing the giant cross lit up
by lightbulbs (even though we were eaten by mozzies)
-Walking up and down St Laurent, talking to young Quebecois shop assistants
-Getting a haircut at Coupe Bizarre from the bassist for Pony Up!
-meeting Daniel. yay!
-seeing Marmots in the park on the river. They are so fat and shy.
-picnic on Mount Royal with homemade pasta and longneck coronas.
Getting freaked out by squirrels.
-heaps of cute dogs. little ones and big ones. dogs are well manicured
in Montréal.
-apricot beer, marble cheese, chocolate croissant, almond croissant,
dill pickle chips
-staying with Anik, a very, very kind woman!
-flaunting my meager French. I managed to buy food, try a a little
smalltalk with taxi drivers and shop assistants, and politely reject
flirtatious old men. haha.

We're off to stay in the New York Loft hostel in Brooklyn, which may
be in or on the border of Williamsburg. Claire wants to go on a Regina
Spektor pilgrimage. I'm going to call my friend Claude, take my
friends to meet Maggie, see a band at the Mercury Loungue and hang out
on Houston Street. We'll check out Williamsburg and go see the
touristy things. hooray.

Hope everyone is doing well. See my photos on Facebook!

xo

Of Montréal

Today I got a haircut in Montreal at a very cool salon. It was all white and modern inside and the employees were all young and attractive. I had to phone for an appointment and ask on the phone 'Parlez-vous anglais?'. I'm pleasantly surprised at how prevalent French is here. As I was talking to my hairdresser I found out that
she is the bass player from Pony Up. She was really lovely.

Montreal is a gorgeous city with lots of cool bars, shops, buildings. people are amazingly friendly, everything is different because it's in French. Anik says my pronunciation is good. I even tried a little smalltalk with the taxi driver tonight. I'm getting more confident by the day.

In the afternoon Jo, Jason, Dane, Claire and I climbed to the top of Mount Royal. it took forever and my feet kill, but we saw the giant cross lit by light bulbs. kind of
surreal. the city is warm and safe and chilled out. I want to live here.

Everything really does happen in Manhattan

I'm in New York! And on a very different note to my last holiday season post...


Happy 4th of July! Today I woke up late after my first sleep in about 36 hours. I'm staying with my aunt's friend Maggie who lives on the Lower East Side in Manhattan. She is a journalist and photographer who lives in an artist collective 3rd floor walk up. 'Walk up' means no elevator. Figures. Maggie works at the Mercury Lounge on East Houston (pronounced 'Howston') and she knows EVERYONE. it's very impressive. For example, I showed Maggie an underground travel guide to the LES (Reverend Jen's Very Cool Neighbourhood) that I purchased online a few months ago and Maggie said, 'Oh, Jen! I haven't seen her around for a while.' And today I asked Maggie if she knew Richard Kern the photographer, and she said 'Yeah, Richard rented a room on the ground floor just the other month.' Crazy.

I have had my own brush with fame as well. My plane was delayed at Sydney airport for 3 hours which meant that I missed my connection at LA to NY. On the rebooked American Airlines flight I was sitting next to a man that moved and read at a frightening speed. When the hostess denied his request to purchase some business class nuts (they are crazy about the class system in the US) I offered him my paltry Starbucks smoked almonds, which he gratefully accepted. we got talking and he found out I was a writer and I found out he was an editor. he asked me to proofread a story and tell him if it was interesting. later I got talking about zines and he asked if I had any with me and I offered him 'In Sickness' which he read, and loved! AND... offered to publish the conclusion in his magazine, Trace: http://www.trace212.com/ What the fuck? I'm networking like a fiend and my plane hasn't even landed yet. To loosely quote Kundera, the birds of fortuity have alighted on my shoulders. I rang Claude today and he said I'd be famous in 3 weeks. We'll see about that. I think you need to be pretty tough to last here. On the plane over I was thinking about my goal for the year (to toughen the fuck up) and I thought to myself 'I more closely resemble a bag of jellyfish.'

Tonight I tested my toughs by spending a whole TEN MINUTES on my own in the city. After we watched the fireworks from Fresh Salt, a bar near the harbour that Maggie's friend owns, I headed uptown with some Asian guys I met at the bar. They seemed pretty friendly, if a little annoyed at my insistence on stopping to pat a giant fluffy black dog and a tiny little terrier, as well as talking to a kid about his golden retriever. We caught the subway - air-conditioned to icy bliss after the clinging humid streets - and ended up in a bar that serves 5 shots of anything for $10. It even says that on the sign above the door. I went to the bathroom and when I got back they had ditched me! I guess I namedropped 'boyfriend' too often (to avoid excess knee-rubbing) and they realised there was nothing in it for them anymore. Instead, I was followed around the bar 5 times by a creepy Latino guy who wanted to buy me a beer. I gave him the slip, asked the bouncer how to use a payphone and went to call Claude, who was at home (in his Wall St Condo with swimming pool) and then I hopped in a cab, tipped the driver 5 times more than I should have because I was so relieved I hadn't been abducted/shot/stabbed/raped and now, here I am stealing someone's wi fi. I tell you what, guys - this is the life. I love this city and its people. Even the jerks are friendly!

did I mention I saw Sonic Youth and the Feelies in Battery Park today? It was a good show. Did I mention I haven't paid for a drink since I got here, and have been well blasted both nights? That's pretty good too. And, writerly folk (or readerly folk...) the books here are so damn cheap! Five bucks will buy you a decent read. 10 bucks tops. Given how close our dollar is to these guys, we may as well move here en masse and enjoy our culture straight from the hub.

The architecture here is so impressive. I feel more powerful and important just walking the streets. New York stinks, but I'm so enthralled that even a blast of wood smoke and rat meat from a hot dog vendor smells fine. Most impressive so far is the diversity of races, language, culture. Sydney is very fucking white in comparison. And strangely enough, I love all the uniforms. The police and even security are far better dressed. They have starched white shirts with red lapels and gold-embossed nametags with matching red and gold hats. A baby-faced Hispanic cop with straight, white teeth told us we couldn't walk down a particular road due to closures for July 4 and I was like, 'How can I be mad at him?' A strategic move by NYPD, methinks.

Tomorrow my plans are, well... not much. Maggie's off to work. I'll call Claude and see if he's not working, though knowing New York, he probably is. City of anxious overworkers - now that sounds like my kinda place. And it doesn't hurt that everyone is enthralled by the Australian accent. Truly, we are a lucky nation.

I strongly urge anyone who hasn't travelled to do so ASAP! It's not nearly as scary as you might think. I had one freaky moment on the way here - I forgot to take my laptop out of my bag when I came through customs at LA, and so I guess they thought I was trying to smuggle something. so they made me stand in front of the NAKED X-RAY MACHINE! It is like being strip searched without taking your clothes off. Who knows what kind of dangerous rays that thing emits. And who cares - they only use it on potential terrorists, right? There I was, shoeless, being naked screened, feeling about as vulnerable as one can in the face of stern customs officers, but I made it through. Shocked and transfixed, I sat on my chair and waited for the next flight (after I purchased the fated almonds). But hey, at least I made it into the country.

And I'll be leaving all too soon, for Montreal. I'm meeting Dane and Claire, Jo and Jason for a week, then coming back here and showing off all my street cool. Thank you, New York Moleskine. Thou hast saved my clueless arse many times thus far.