Back in Barcelona. Manged to get here, check into the hotel, have lunch (broke down and had Burgerking, couldn´t find anything else that looked good, i am so ashamed), took a 4 hour nap (which was needed), took a long walk, and baught to books in English for the flight home on Friday.
Back to some more of the details from Monday Night…
FISCHERSPOONER
The band does three shows every Monday night as part of what is Manumision (more details below). I think they were on at 230a, 430a, and 530a, but the details are hazy. The shows, for a number of reasons, aren´t the normal Fischerspooner fair. Fisherspooner is known for is specital, with projected images, movies, and lots of over the top dance and coriogaphy. Some of the staff at the club isn´t the best, so some things have been drop and the dancers at the club aren´t really dances.
What they are very atractive women from all over the world who are paid to dance on bars and platforms through out the night very scantily clad. Really what Fisherspooner needs is profestional dances. For this reason the choriography has been toned down greatly. They do a fine job non the less.
KIDS
Two young women ended up in our group. Friend´s of one of the guys in they band. They were both 19. They looked like kids (probably because they are). Adrian and I were talking about how at 19 we thought we were so big. They were so little. I kept thinking, “does your mother know where you are and who you are hanging out with¨?”
FIRE FIRE FIRE (and other specitcal)
Besides the band playing three times a night, between the DJ´s spinning the dance music the kids love so much, there were a number of moments of specitcal. There were a few chorigraphed dance numbers by dancers. (It must be pointed out again, the female dancers were there because of how they looked, the male dancers on the other hand could acctualy dance). There were a couple of stilt walkers, one who was a decent juggler. He did a stilt routine with his girlfriend who was a dance (who could dance). He was on stilts dressed a jesture in a venician mask. She was dressed as doll. She had pieces of fabric attached to her hands and feet which he moved like he was a puppet master. It was a very could performance piece.
Micheal (aka dirt) was the resident street performer. He did three or four things throught the night, which were nice enough. Very creative and on there way to being really good performace pieces. His big number as a fire number. He did a bunch of fire eating, fire poi (image balls of fire on the end of string swung for each hand), fire blowing, and really good 1 and 2 fire staff. What was interesting was how the crowd reacted to the fire stuff. They loved it! It was the real climax of the performance night. The stuff he did was good, it was well executed, and he played the crowed just right for its type. What I found interesting is it was not the most dificult thing that happened on any of the stages of the night. I don´t even think it was the most interesting thing that happened on stage that Dirt did. Not to dimishish what it was, but it was nothing more than a well executed parlor trick. I say that with love and effection. I make my living to moderatly well performed parlor tircks. Peoples tastes are just interesting.
ALISTER
The coolest character I met in the whole thing would have to be Alister. He was in charge of make up and air for all the dancers. At one point he was a world famous make-up and hair guy. He did David Bowies in Laberanth. He was just this wacky old make-up guy. In his sixties, full of life, with a quick (and many times filthy tounge). I have a great picture of me and his as he escaping the popiratzi to be posted later. When were saying our good byes, I said¨”The pleasure was all mine. ” He responded, “Of course it was,” dramatically spun, and walked away.
MANUMISSION
The party it self is called Manumission. It happens every Monday night of the summer. It started year ago as a party in Manchester (thus the name). When it moved it Ibiza, it was part of a British party scene that needed a new home. It sprung up in a time for the lads and lasses that was very economicly depressed in Britin. They had a stress ful life of very few unfulfilling jobs out there with there future based on the results of a few exames. This was there escape. Ibiza is a cheap vacation for Britons. It was there chace to get away and forget there life. For the reason there was a fair degree of debotchery. Alcohal, drugs, and often if the dances were scantily clad at the clubs it ment they were wearing a lot. 10 years ago 90% of the people at Manumission party in Ibiza would be British.
Today it is a little different. Simon described it as club theme park. I think that is a good description. It is a place for people to go play club. It is kinda like a House of Blue in the US. The music is good to great. The food is good. The atmaspher is nice. But it is not a New Orlease Blues club. It is a theme park ride that looks like a NO blues club. There is nothing wrong with these types of experiances. They are what they are. They are part of the organic growth of any type of art that moves to the main stream. It moves to the main stream because it has some value. As it comotitized, it loses a bit of its edge. Which is good as well, because not all of us want the edge. Today, Manumission is differnt than what it was 10 years ago, but who are what isn´t.
A GOOD NIGHT
All and all, it was a good night. I had a great time, but I think that is for a few reasons. 1) I had an all access pass. I was able to get in and out of the music at will. I don´t think i could have handled 6 hour of club music. Also, it was a much fun to see the orquestration back stage as much as what was going on on-stage. 2) I had a personal investment in what was going on. I was visiting a good friend´s life. It is great to see where your fiends are. By the time of Firday night I knew most of the band and sound crew well. I wasn´t just watching a band, but a group of friends. I could not only see what the crowd saw, but the personal interaction of personalities I knew.
Would I could this as a night out or a vaction without those conditions. I doubt it. The music isn´t my first choice and Spain as lovly as it is, wouldn´t be my first choice of vacation again. I have had some great times here in my two trips. I have met some wonderful people and have been pushed in some really cool ways because of this place, but it is not comfortable. For some reason my sould is very uncomforable here. Not that we should strive for comfort, but it is time to find a new place.
And I know I am lucky beacause I will get the chace to see many new places.
PRAYER (I am trying to say 1000 times a day right now)
Thank you for the blessings I have recieved and the blessings I am recieving.
I am off for a beverage and some tapas

Much of Sunday was spent at the beack. Very nice to be on a beach in the Meditrainia with cool people, a good book, and some sun.
Monday day was an almost fruitless search for snorkel gear (to be used today). Everything was closed down for the fiesta. From what we gathered it was the feat of San Tiago (St. James) the paton of Spain. The place we ended up finding the gogals at (which is spanish are not called gafas de mar, sunglasses of the sea) was less than two blocks from the apt. We had a lovely day stroling around, eating lunch, being scared by midday fireworks, drinking coffe, and have local laugh at my poor Spanish. I sure there is some lesson to be learned about traveling the world to find what is next door, but I will leave to someone else (with a much more impresive story than the snorkel gear).
Monday night was the big night my friends band plays at the club. The band has been hired to play every Monday for the summer.
THE RIDE OUT
Sound check is at 10pm (doors at midnight) so Adrian, Adam (keyboard player and roomate of Adrian) and I hope the 930p bus to the club which is about 10 miles of of town. We are so engaded in our conversation on the bus we miss our stop and end up with a 15min walk from the club. Lucky we left early. I walk 10 yards in front of Adrian and Adam as they have “conversation” about how and when (or not) the dishes get done in the apt. and by whom.
THE CLUB
We arrive at the club at the stoke of 10. The club is the largest in the work. Adrian give me a quick tour. Main dance room (with pool), VIP club, three garnden bars, on coco loco room, the music box (for rock band of the night), and a resturant. They say the club can hold 8-10 thousand. They would have to be pressed in, but possible.
JC IN THE HOUSE
Adrian had miss placed her pass so not only do she need to get me a pass, she needs to get one for herself. She turns to JoeJoe for the passes. He is a large British man who is in charge of security. (Most of the people on staff, the sponsors the party every Monday night, and the owner of the bar are from Manchester. More than 1/2 the people in the club are British as well.) Adrian tells JoeJoe she needs a pass for herself and “my friend over there who looks like Jesus Christ.” (Me with beard and longer than shoulder length hair. I am unaware of the conversation, as JoeJoe walks by he says “one for adrian and one for the man on the cross.” When I recieve my pass, on the name line it simply says “JC”. JoeJoe then asks if I am willing to do a invocation to start the evening (in a place that needs one).
COFFEE, DRUGS, AND MYSTISISM
Normally, after sound check the band goes out to dinner, being there first set isn’t until 3 or 330a. (Yes, you read that right). Because Casey, the lead singer has friends in town (more on that latter) the bad in on there own for dinner.
We (Adrian, Adam, Ben (basist), and Sam (guitarist)) to walk back to where we got off the bus for some coffee and bit for the guys. Conversations slowly turns to the rock and roll life style and the pitfall there within. I am asked if I am going to be partaking in the lifestyle tonight. My explination about why I don’t do drugs away from a strong drink fo time to time ends up in conversation about mysisim, the work I do, the live I have chosen at this time, and my faith. Very cool coversation (the long way around).
BACKSTAGE
There are still 90 min. to the first show and everyone is dress and in makeup. Adam asks if I want to play batgamon. I win the first game easily. He responds, “No fair. You have God on your side.” I proceed to lose the next two games and the two out of three series.
THE DOORMAN TO THE STARS
It is getting close to show time, so I decied to get out of the way and leave the dressing room to stand in the hall way. As I am walking out the dressing room door Casey and friends have arrived. The group is about 10 people inclueding Micheal Stipe (lead singer of REM and old friend of Casey’s from GA).
As I hold the door. He says, “Thank you.” Micheal Stipe said thank you to me! (Please note sarcasum). I was very impress with the way he carried himself. When I was introduced latter, my friend said, “This is Gene.” (because that is my name), and he reached out his hand saying “Micheal” not assuming I knew who he was. Latter, evertime he came in and out of the VIP area, he gamely pulled out his pass to show the bounce.
It should not be a big deal that he didn’t big time anyone. It is sad that I think it must be said. He was nothing but friendly to everyone backstage.
HOT HOT HEAT!
After the bands first set, we went into the Music Box Room to watch the Vancouver based “Hot Hot Heat” play. I had heard one radio hit a few years ago, but nothing else. They were great. Awesome show. They won a fan in me. They lost use of the keyboard and guitar for almost 10 minutes and just marched on like pros. Never complained. Made the best of the situation.
We got to hang out with them, before heading home, and they were really good guys. When I complemented them indivutally, they all hymed and ha-ed about techincal problems. I made sure to let them know how impressed I was with the way the handeled it.
More to come…must get off the computer…

Currently, I am on the island of Ibiza, but our story still had us at the festival in Benicassim
At 5 my friend Adrian appeared to tell me that in moments they would have my pass and she would be back with it. A few moments latter Adrian reapperd with Anna, who Simon the sound man kept refering to as the most beutiful woman in Spain. [Note 1: Simon might have been right. Note 2: To call Simon just the sound man would be a diservice. He ahs seen and done it all, inculding selling over 3 million albums and touring the world over with a little band he started in Astralia called Frente. Simon is also one of the funniest, most full of life people I ever met.]
MY FISCHERSPOONER EXPERIANCE
My friend Adrian is spending the summer singing with the band Fisherspooner. To be honest, before Friday I knew very little about them. I knew they played dance type music (not my favorite) and that they were known for thier over the top stage shows.
There were a number of things that struck in meeting the band:
band dynamic Durring dinner the band had a meeting to talk about getting ready for th show. It was basicly a pep talk by the durmer, about how it important is was to have a good show because of all the European media which was there. There was talk about how to walk on stage, when to go the the stage. How to do sound check. All of this was not just a speach, but conversation. I know understand why every VH1 behind the music ends with the band breaking up. To spend that much time in close quarters, having a group of people with big ideas about art they care about. At some point you are going to want to kill someone. Not that that happened in the meeting I saw, but I could see how it could happen.
It must be an odd thing being on the road with a small group of people for months on end, with limited interaction with others outside the group. In my life we do some of this, but in most places we spend a great deal of time with the oranizers, and a fair amount of time with the audiance. I couldn’t image the vacum of a band on tour.
The Manager It was an education to see the tour manager a work. He had three roles. 1) Keep everying one informed and on time 2) Take care of the lead singers wants and needs 3) Play the heavy with the local organizers. All three of these tasks he did well. Especially play the heavy. He wasn’t mean. He wasn’t rude. He just knew what his guys (and gal) needed to do the job they had been hired to do, and made sure it happened.
Costume The bad, by its very make up and personality of the lead singer, is obsessed with costuming. The bad has four sets of costumes they wear at for the shows they do. Here on the island, they do three sets a night, each set in a different costume. When on the road (with the execption of the lead sing who made three or four changes) there is no costume changes for the band on stage. There was a great deal of time spent talking about who was going to wear what. Also a huge amount of time was spent putting on great deals of make up. The band has kind of a glam kitch feel to it, and the makeup in heavy in that direction. It was bizar to watch and difficult to relate to.
VERY UNAMERICAN
I rode in the curtosy van from the dressing room to the backstage area on the other side of the festivel grounds with the band. They headed to the backstage dressing room and went to see if I could find a good place to stand. After being mistaken for the bands manager I wondered out into the crowd. There were about 8000 people in the tent and they were ready to go. between the stage and crowd there was barrior taht cordened off about 10 feet of space. I saw a few people there, so I figured I would go stand with them, all access cridential around my neck.
While they were truning the stage over from one band to the next, the cameras were pointing at the crowd. A few people waved once on screen, others danced, most people tried to hide behind the person they were with. I have seen people in America hide like that, not wanting to be on the Jumbotron, but over half of them hid. It was odd, and a little refreshing.
THE SHOW
The show itself was great. The band sounded really good and the crowed, most knew the bands work, when nuts. Where I was standing was all media, and everyone of them had a camera. At first I was really disapointed because my camera was back in the dressing room, but it turned out to be a good thing.
After three songs the security came over and cleared everyone out. All the media moved on comand, obviously knowing this was coming. For some reason they herded everyone out, but me. I wasn’t holding a camera. I was against the barior with the with crowed. Maybe they thought I was in the crowd. About a song later one of the security gaurds realized what had happened and came over to move me. As he asked me to move, I pulled my pass out of the frount pocket of my shirt and showed it to him as if to say, “No really I belong here.” He didn’t look closely at the pass, but insteat turned to the other security gaurd for help. He look at me, and my conviction to say, and made a gesture to say, “Oh yeah, he is fine.” I don’t think I was fine or in the right spot, but it is amazing what acting with a little confidence will do for you.
PAST MY BED TIME
We left at about 2am, after watching the Cure (and a very old looking Robert Smith) and packing up the gear toi get a little sleep. I was not able to find a flight back to the island that corisponded with the bands. I ended up leaving hours earlier. We were able to arragne for the festivel to give me a ride from the hotel to the trainstation, so I could get down to Valencia for my flight. I left the hotel at 8 am. As we drove past the festivel grounds, people were just leaving. Fischerspooner, who headlined their stage, when on at about mind night. The last band was scheduled to go on at 6am, but as the night wore one they got a little behind. As we drove by at 8 many of the stages had just finished for the night. At the train station there wer folks who had taken the train up that day. Stayed up all night, and where now heading back home.
FLIGHT TO IBIZA
I love the way forigien flight attendats dress. While boarding, all the Iberia flight atteneants were little leather gloves.
The flight was only 25 minutes to the island. I cried the who way as I read the last 50 pages of The Half Blood Prince. Unforturnatly, I had read a sidebar in Entertainment Weekly a few weeks ago and knew how it was going to end, but I still cried.

I hate when I wait this longto write again. So much happens that it is difficult to keep is all straight and to respond to events. Here is the blow by blow since Thursday night.
I SHOULD KNOW BETTER
The plan was to get up when ever of Firday morning, get some food, pack, and hope a train to Benicassim. Banicassim host’s an outdoor music fest every year, which a friend of mine was singing at. Woke up earlier than I thought I would and had packed the night before. I wasn’t going to be meeting my Adrian untill 5pm, so i figured I would catch the 11:50a train. Getting me in about 2:30. THIS Would give me the lay of the land, so that I made sure I would end up at the right place the right time.
I am at the train staition 2 1/2 early, get on the machine to buy a ticket and everything after 11am is sold out. Fancy that, 30,000 are decending on a little town and all of the train tickets are sold. Who would have guessed (I am an idiot).
Lucky for me there was a train leaving in 15 min, so I was saved.
Very lucky. Very Stupid.
I LOOK LIKE WHAT?
I grab some more food for the trip and a new bottle of water and head to the train platform. I am sitting on a bench witha few other people. Secutity comes by and tells us to head to the other end of the platform so our bags can be x-rayed and then board.
I nod in understanding (because I did, which is good). The young woman sitting next to me, looks to me puzzed. I tell her what is up. She says, “I can always tell who speaks english.” So, I ask, “What about you would lead you to believe I speak engish?” Dripping with sarcasum, “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the cowboy hat.”
Fair enough.
FESTIVAL INTERNACIONAL DE BENICASSIM
For full details on the fest check the link:http://fiberfib.com
Because of my early train I ended un in Benicassim a little after noon. After getting a map and some instruction, I realize the center of town is about 10 min walk and the fest is a 20 min walk the other direction. I head into town for food.
I sit in a little out door cafe, eat and watch many Brithis tourist be baffeled by menu as they enjoy a pint or two.
IT”S A PARADE
After killing a few hours, I walk to the fest site to check the lay of the land. After the walk I find myseld in a parking lot on the edge of town. To the right is a dusty field with tents (where most of the attendies are staying, to the left is the concert venue. It is mid afternoon and I am standing on black top, cooking. I am able to find a small bit of shade under a evergreen tree. There is bearly enough room to squeeze under the tree hunched over, but it beats the alternitive.
I pull out my copy of The Half Blood Prince (yes, it makes lots of sence to backpack across Spain carrying a 680pg harb back book) and read. Since I am sitting at the enterance there is a constant flow of people walking be to get settled and to pick up tickets. It was an amazing parade of people.
What was most fasinating was the way people were dressed. They feel in to three basic catagories. 1) people walking back from the beach in beach apparle. 2) People who were dressed functionally for a three day outdoor music fest which they were going to be camping at. These people were wearing dingy, comfortable cloths. There wasn’t a strong sence of fashion, but more the reconigsion they they were not going to shower for days and were going to be up to all hours of the night dancing. Good choice. 3) Fashion plates. I was shocked at the level of commitment peopole had in the heat and grim to look the way the looked. I will admit, I have made more than one foolish fashion choice in my life, in the face of cercumstance to look cool. It was close to 100 degress in a dusty field and people were dressed head to tow in black (including gloves). Or they were wearing stuff way too nice (in my mind) for three days in a dusty field.
It was just such an odd combination of campers and club goers.
NOOOOO
I have to jump off the computer to the bands sound guy can get on line to work out details of getting tens of thousands of dollars of equpment in to Norway with out paying duty. More to come.

NOTE TO FAMIL: Tomorrow afternoon and Saturday Morning I will be traveling and don´t expect to be back on-line until Saturday Evening sometime.
Spent the day poking around Barcelona. I ate breakfast in one of the stalls at the downtown market. Tortilla Espanola (translated to english means=egg potato thingy). Very good. Afternoon was spent walking to the Parc Gaudi, which is amazing. Image if Dr. Suess decided to build a subdivition. Photos will go up after I am home.
Because I have been to Barcelona before and not feeling to pressed to get to anything, I decided to walk from the hotel, which was about 5 miles. It should have been three, but I don´t know how to read a map in any language.
CREEPING CULTURE
I was saddened a little in the last few days as I realized that our world is growing smaller and smaller. I wrote yesterday it makes it easier to travel, but it also makes it easier for idea to travel and for mass culture to be come more the same. Last night, the place I stopped for some coffee and reading only played songs in English. More than half the shirts on the streets are in English (often wondering if the wearer knows what it means). Today I saw a Hong Kong Fooy t-shirt and then the store it was bought in. Part of what makes interantional travel so great is the difference you exeriance. It is just a fact of the moder world we are growing closer.
FAT
Everytime I am abroad I re-realize that American as fat. It is so striking. Most of the time I am the largers person in any crowd and I am under two bills. Not sure if it is the sendtary life or the amout of preservities we eat, but we are just fat. I haven´t seen anyone over 350 here. I can´t think of the last time I was on a plane in which there wasn´t atleast one person over that.
BAD ART
Being that folks are a little thiner here and it is very warm, there is quite a bit os skin showing. From this I have realized that there are way too many bad tatoos in the world. I have never gotten a tatoo because I don´t want something on me that is going to require a power sander to remove. My taste change weekly, I can´t image choosing something for life.
LESSON NOT LEARNED
I think too much in generaly, but spicifically about the choices I make and how I am going to correct them. I would like to think I learn, but then I am reminded that I just haven´t.
The last time I was here, I was sitting in a fallafel store frount eating dinner. I sat down at the bar facing the street next to a very beautiful woman, about my age who I would have guessed was american (if by nothing else the socks she was wearing). Pretty young woman a lone in an amazing city, why not strike up a conversation. Which means, of course I didn´t. That would have required, i don´t know, gutts. She finished before me. Cleaned up her stuff. And left. I sat there cursing myself. “What is the worst that could have happened? You are a charming enough lad.” What ever.
Last night I was eating dinner. Same fallafel stand. Same bar. Same situation. Cute american to my right. Said nothing. It wasn´t until she got up that I thought of the year before. It is moments like these I realize our loving God also has a wicket sense of humor.
FEET TOO BIG
After going to mass at Santa Maria del Mar (one of my two favarite churches in the world, not best or prettiest, but favorite) in catatlá, a language close enought to Spanish to frustrate me, I headed out to buy my favorite item of clothing, shoes.
I spend about 2 1/2 hours casing the fashion districe. I am happy to report that shoes in Euorpe have changed in sensibility once again. Everything no longer looks like bycicling shoes. I am sad to report my feet are still to big to find stuff like in my size. Lots of wonderful shoes, all one size too small. I was able to find a great pair made by Camper (my favorite designer who just happens to be Spanish) on sale in my size, but that was it. There were three pairs of Addidas I would loved had, but my feet are too big.
Tomorrow morning will be spent poking around the city a little more. Then it is south to a music festival bout an hour out side of Velencia (which leave the posiblity of sleep to the spanish standared tomorrow night, which is none). Saturday I will fly to Ibiza for a few days on the beach.

NOTE TO FAMILY: I am alive.
I am back in Spain. Arrived this afternoon (local time). It is just short trip this time. I am heading back back on the 12th. Visiting a friend who´s band has been hired for the entire summer (more on that when I get to Ibiza).
AM I OUT OF THE COUNTRY
It was a very strange time, planning this trip. I am here to visit a friend, so I haven´t done much planning for my time here. Also, I have been to Barcelona before (were I will be spending 4 days total). When I was taking the bus into the city from the airport I knew we were with in two blooks of my stop when I saw a shoe store I know. I was able to navigate on foot from the bus stop to my hotel (about a mile) only looking at my map once. Just walked around like I owned the town.
For the trip besides my flights over and back I needed to book to one way tickets and get housing for my time short times here in Barcelona. I was able to all of that from the comfort of my favorite Penara Bread in Baltimore over the wireless network. It is amazing how much international travel has changed in just the last few years. I use to take a great deal of time and effort (some would contend that is part of the fun) to make arrangements. Planning this trip (because of ease and familiarity with the country) was really no differnt than planning a trip to Cleavland. (Though, there are no gitano woman walking the streets of Cleaveland).
The rest of today is going to be spent visiting some of my favorate place here. Some tapas. A beverage or two. A visit to Santa Maria del Mar. A little reading.
Not very adventurous.
PANSY FLIGHER
Truth be told. I haven´t had much time for adventure. So far all I have done is come here. I have become a travel snob. I will eat street food. I will sleep in crumy hostels. I will wonder with out a plan. BUT, I will not fligh over an ocean unless I am sitting in the frount of the plane (if I can help it). So the three flights weren´t that hard. Lots of room. Great food. Loads of attention. I was informed the flight attendants on the Detroit-Amsterdam flight were refering to me as Ted Nugent. The flight from Amsterdam to Barcelona, there was only four of us up from, so again lots of attention.
NEVER BEFORE
Though the food on the last flight was something I had never had before in my life. I was asked if I would like the Salmon or the chicken. Still being a Wyoming (read no coast) boy at heart I jump at the oppertunity to have fish when I can. It turns out it was not just salmon, but salmon and shirp lasanga. With pickels. It tasted fine, but it wouldn´t have been my first choice.
Will be in Barcelona until mid-day Friday