Compared to yesterday today was pretty uneventful. I spent the morning on Skype to Mum and then a bit of admin, story searching. I went out for lunch and had a huge bowl full of pasta and turkey meatballs in tomato sauce which was delicious. It came with amazing garlic bread that stayed with me the entire day. I wrote my diary, which sometimes feels like a pet that needs feeding and walking. I like to keep up to date otherwise I get further and further behind.
Bradley is back from Australia and is going to the usual bar tonight but I’ve already bought a ticket for a DJ. The toss up between sticking to what I’d planned and having a decent conversation with someone (something I’ve begun to miss a lot) was difficult but I decided to stick to Plan A. The venue didn’t open until 9pm so I went to the cinema first to see ‘The Well Digger’s Daughter’, a French film. It is based on a book by the author of ‘Jean de Florette’ and ‘Manon des Sources’. It very much feels like a film based on a book with a few chapters missing but the cinematography is so beautiful, and the characters so believable that it doesn’t matter and you’re happy to fill in the blanks. It’s set in the South of France, near the border with Spain so everyone has wonderful twangs to their accents. The colours are outstanding; lush green countryside, wind blown grasses, earthy toned, rustic houses, warm rays of sun and the interior lighting makes scenes look like Caravaggio at his finest. Another recommendation.
From there I walked down to the venue, Mezzanine on Jesse Street. The direct way was straight through the Tenderloin and I was too lazy to walk the ten block detour so I put my shoulders back and imagined that I was walking down the King’s Road. I always think you’re much more likely to get pestered if you look as though you are waiting for it to happen. I saw a group standing in front of me on the sidewalk and thought, great I’m going to get hassled, but I walked straight on, ready for some back chat. As it turned out they were a group of 5 year olds with the Mums, so that’ll teach me. At night the streets feel edgy rather than depressing, I suppose you expect certain people to be out at night, seeing those same people off their faces during the day is more intense.
I got to the venue, got a beer and wandered round. It was a nice venue with a big, clear dance floor and little bars dotted around with a mezzanine around half the room. People on their own in clubs always look really shifty and not who you want to talk to so I went up to the mezzanine and lent on the rail, watching the people below. Everyone was very casual apart from a few people who had mad hippy outfits on, tie-dye t-shirts and paisley flairs. I have no idea whether they were in fancy dress or not. Something tells me that they weren’t.
I had about two hours before the main DJ Bonobo started, which when you’re solo goes very slowly. Luckily I got chatting to a woman, also there on her own and leaning over the rail watching people dancing, who was Canadian. She was laughing because she always end up talking to the only non-American in the room. She is a yoga teacher from Vancouver and is studying agriculture in Tallahassee, Florida, so that she can go on to teaching people about growing their own vegetables, having community gardens, etc. We had a great chat about back water Americans, food, skiing, the Olympics; the time sped by as we put the world to rights. We descended into the maelstrom to dance and stayed until the end at 2.30am. Not bad having got there at 9.30pm.
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