Smokin'?

Hello,
Busked the last two days! It'll definitely take some time to figure out the best spots, songs, and signs to use, but I'm glad I'm getting out there. I need to be really disciplined about going out!

Friday, February 10, 2012:

I set up, around 7:00, on the Royal Mile. There was a guy out playing sitar. It actually went pretty badly, most people ignored me, and very few tipped. The good news is that I wasn't cold for a while, and actually got so hot walking that I started off with one less sweater than I had brought and no gloves and hat. 4 degrees is actually like 40, so not brrr at all. I'm not using my "playing back student loans" sign because that always sparks the conversation about school, and I kind of don't want to make it obvious that I'm not European. Don't want to be that American making money from bankrupt Europe to spend in America. However, the subtext of that sign is "I am not homeless" which I think makes me more money. I have to think of another way to not look homeless. A man talked to me a bit, and said "I'm homeless myself" which implies that I am too, right? Or at least not well off. Not that I want to brag about being financially stable, it's just a busking fact that the richer you look, the better you do! Also not sure how people are reacting to Sophie's Smokin' Squeezebox, so I might even hide that sign. Trying to think of what sign people would like--"Raising Funds to Stay in Edinburgh" "Need Money to Tour the Castle"--it's a stiff admission fee!

At like 8:15 or so I decided to pack up and move to Grassmarket, where there are bars and drunk people. As I packed up, the homeless guy, who had been strolling and talking to people, greeted a friend of his (they shared a big hug). The friend talked to me while I packed up. Old guy. Couldn't understand him. He was a little closer than I liked, so I made quick work of getting my stuff together. I think he said he's Polish, and that he has a spine problem, and he kept howling in pain and crouching down then laughing.

As I walked there was another guitar player out, playing Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" (which is SO overdone by street musicians). When I walked by he immediately stopped and, while doing the universal symbol for accordion playing, concernedly asked if he was too close. Totally nice guy. His name is Martin, and he's a regular Edinburgh busker. He confirmed that he was doing as badly as I was, but that the problem was it was too early. You have to go when people are drinking (I guess it's not a good dinner area). 10...11. I asked, "But aren't we supposed to stop at 9:00?" He said that it was just a guideline, a guideline that he had written! I guess he's really an important busker. "But they messed it up, I said 10:00, 11:00 on the weekends!" Basically I should stop at 9:00 if anyone's seriously complaining, and the authorities can use that if a busker's causing trouble past nine. He thought I would clean up on Valentine's Day weekend over here. I forget how he described my sound, compared to his, in a context that would appeal to romantics on a valentine's getaway. I guess couples were walking by him and women were nudging men to get out some change. He also thought I would kill it in Grassmarket. He mentioned some of the other regular female buskers, and said that he and the sitar player were nice guys. "It's cooperation or competition." True that. Good person to know. He also said that he was going to call it a night, since he had been out for eight hours!! He said it was a good spot because the bouncers at the bar next door (The Filling Station) were super cool. They'd watch your stuff if you needed a break and let you nip in for the loo or whatever. Martin sends them customers in return.

I didn't take his spot, but went on to Grassmarket. I needed to use the loo, so I peeked into the hostel I had stayed at to see who was working. It was Emily, the super nice Canadian. She gave me permission to use the bathroom, and I ran upstairs. I saw my old Spanish friends Enric, Marcos, Bibi and Miquel. Three hugs is fabulous, as I'm getting zero hugs most days! I set up again outside the Last Drop (this time wearing my hat, gloves, and extra sweater). It was definitely better here, although still not ideal. Definitely lots of drinking. This area is popular for "stag and hen parties." One guy asked about Flaca right away, and had a hard time with her name. There were some older folks strolling around, who I thought I'd do well with, but no.

I'm actually sounding pretty good these days! There were a few homeless people in the area, and I felt bad for competing with them for change. There are a lot of homeless folks in the city, and they all have sleeping bags. I wonder if it's a citywide initiative to distribute them. There were two big parties that all dropped in some coins, so that was my main moneymaker.

1. My favorite people were two young friends: a Nigerian man and a Scottish woman. They heard Lady Gaga and came to talk, and they were super nice. The woman was clearly drunk, and her friend explained that her boyfriend doesn't let her out much, so she took nights out when she could get them. Something about "sleep, eat, shit." I guess that's her usual instructions at home? Hm. They had me play all my pop songs, and felt strongly that if I played them there people would come from all over to hear. The woman didn't have change, so after the man tipped he threw in another £2 (£2 coins exist, and they're big and awesome) if the woman would buy him a drink. They thought I was brave coming over here alone, and they said it in such a nice way. The woman hugged me three times--up to six hugs!! (She asked me first though.) She said that she thinks people from Massachusetts are so nice. Know who's not nice? Their third friend. She came out of a bar and just grabbed their elbows and started walking. I could hear the woman tell her friend "Go back and hear her play!" but the friend just marched them faster. They both looked back and waved.

2. There was a typical bachelorette/"hen" party with women in little black dresses and tiny pink "top hats" pinned to their heads to match their pink sashes. One had a white veil pinned to her head. You see so many parties like this walking around, and you see the costume kits in stores. I pulled out a move that works with the gay male bachelorette parties in Provincetown: stopping whatever song I'm playing (in this case The Godfather) to play a rousing rendition of "Here Comes the Bride." One bridesmaid noticed and pointed it out, but I did not get a tip. WTF.

3. Some parents walked by with their three daughters, who were fully made up, with fancy hairdos, little dresses with bare arms and legs, and cute purses (won't say heels because I'm not positive). It was cold and past their bedtime. And they looked like sluts. That's-a no good.

4. I always enjoy getting to know other workers while busking. This includes pedi-cab drivers, valet parkers, red cross solicitors, etc. In Grassmarket, there is indeed a fleet of pedi-cabs (which of course the rest of the world calls Rickshaws). The guys who drive them are my new batch of coworkers. There's one I met before, Sam, who's super nice.

I was worried about annoying the two bouncers outside the bars I was closest to, in addition to the neighbors. But at one point I caught a bouncer dancing a little, and later I saw a flash of light, looked up, and saw a guy leaning out of his 4th floor window to take a picture of me. He waved. Guess I wasn't pissing them off too much!

*************
Saturday, February 11, 2012:

I went out on Saturday as well. Starting from when I was a breakfast waitress last summer, I really nailed down a nice early schedule. That's something I'm struggling with a little here, since I'm used to going to bed early and starting my day early. However, now that I'm in an awesome international city, it's in my best interests to take advantage of the people and events and stay out late! As a result, of course, I'm sleeping in. Weird. Anyway, I didn't get out to play until about 4:00 pm on Saturday (definitely didn't make the Saturday morning farmer's market!). I decided to stick with Rose St., since I had done well there the previous weekend. Sure enough, there were people everywhere. I chose a spot (between Hanover and Frederick streets) that wasn't near too many bustling businesses or other street musicians.

Unfortunately, when I was just a couple of songs in, an angry man came up to me. I really couldn't understand a word he was saying, but I pieced together that he was a beggar and didn't like my choice of spot. He pointed to another beggar a block down as well. I pointed out that I was more than 50 metres away, the requirement, but he seemed to have as much trouble with my accent as I did with his. He pointed back in the direction he had come from and possibly said that there was a big gap with no one in it. I didn't have to pack up, but he was actually kind of scary, so I did. I walked in the direction he pointed (I could faintly hear a guitar coming from the other direction), and saw him sitting in his sleeping bag smoking a cigarette. I really have no sympathy for poor folks who smoke, even if someone had given him that cigarette it doesn't do much to lure in other tips, in my opinion. Anyway, I went quite far down from him, passed another guitar player playing "Hallelujah," and came across the first place I had played on Rose St., down by Castle St. I checked for loogies before unpacking. Here I stayed until almost 7:00, my longest set yet!

1. A guy who had been smoking outside a bar came over and tipped me just for the Amelie. I told him I had a few more Amelie songs in my repertoire, and he said he'd try to time his cigarette breaks.

2. I'm experiencing something I haven't experienced before: my hair getting in the way! This is the longest my hair has been since I've played the accordion (which isn't saying much), and it's in the way! Sometimes it gets stuck in the bellows, but more often it just falls on the keys, thus making my hand slide off, obscuring the view, or blocking access to some keys (if I pin it down on an E, for example, I can't get to the C below it). I'm going to have to start matching Flaca and braiding it!

3. Several people have mentioned a Bee Gees song about Massachusetts, which I must learn! This came up in a nice interaction with two men, who I took to be father and son. The son asked, "Are you American?" but I heard something about "mannequin" and assumed he was talking about Flaca. Luckily I just said "Yes," rather than elaborating on Flaca. They mentioned the MA song when I said where I was from, and they were both concerned with me freezing. The old man felt my hand to see how bad it was. I pulled out my hand-warmers from the pocket where they were activating, and the men were baffled! Really nobody knows of them over here! They're really not as good as American ones, but they help.

4. It's annoying when people take out their wallets or hold money while walking by me, then don't tip. I had to laugh when two people in a row did this: one walking by with an open wallet, and another looking right at me as he jingled the coins in his pocket. Thankss.

5. Rose St. is so pretty and nice, and where I was standing by the intersection with Castle St. had two lampposts with big round bulbs on top. At one point they turned on, slowly getting brighter, and effectively illuminating the block. Nice.

6. A real gypsy came by. She looked just like the ones I got used to in Spain, long skirt, kerchief, etc. She had a cup and was asking people for money. Of course she came right up to me, and looked right at my stash of coins. Uh-oh. She wasn't an English speaker, and communicated to me by gesturing food/eating. I denied her request, but it took a long time to get her to move on. I really have to keep taking my earnings out and hiding them.

7. I realized a sad truth yesterday: I can't take breaks. When I was playing in the cold at home I counted on my pizza break and my hot chocolate break to make it through the cold shifts. I had asked the folks at The Button Box accordion repair shop how bad it is for the instrument to play in the cold. Bob said that it's okay, but what I don't want to do is have it in the cold, bring it inside to the warmth, and immediately start playing again. You get condensation on the inside due to the temperature change, and if you play it can rust the reeds, which is bad news. This was easy enough to avoid, since I never played it immediately after going inside. However, I realized today that if I bring it inside for a bit then bring it outside and start playing again, it's essentially the same thing. The condensation that formed when I went inside would linger long enough to have an impact, right? I got a bunch of valves replaced before coming over here, and I haven't broken the rules yet. Until I research this issue further, I'm going to avoid breaks. At home I know/trust the other buskers well enough to leave my accordion outside while I warm myself up, but there's certainly no one here I would trust with that at the moment. That said, I was cold and wanted a hot drink. There was a 0% chance of anyone I knew walking by who I could ask to go get me a drink. I hoped the two men who were worried about me in the cold would come back and offer to get me something. I sent hardcore vibes to everyone walking by to offer this service (it worked for pizza in San Francisco!) but alas none did. I thought about how great it would be if there was a "'May I help you?' riff," like in Wayne's World. You simply play this riff which indicates to passersby that you need something. If only. I ended up powering through for an extra hour after I wanted to break. Too bad I didn't bring my travel mug over with me.

8. Ready? One of my favorite interactions ever (thus in bold):
A pack of 14-ish-year-old boys walked by, and one threw a coin in my box right as another friend verbally protested this.
I asked, "You don't want your friend to support me?"
He asked, "Does this money go to fund your smoking habit?"
"No!"
"Then why does it say 'Smokin''?"
"It's 'Smokin'' as in 'Awesome.'"
("I liked the alliteration!," piped up another boy.)
"Then why not say...'Smophie's [insert chortles from the others']...Sizzlin' Squeezebox?'"
"Because then people might think I'm raising money for my meat-grilling habit."
[Puzzled expression.]
I forget the rest of the conversation, but I loved it. I loved how concerned this boy was with supporting a smoker (clearly some Scottish schools or parents do some hardcore health education), and his determination to suggest an alternative. I loved that most of them really gave me their full attention, and they weren't embarrassed to be talking to me. Of course I loved that the first boy tipped in the first place. They seemed like just a kind, not obnoxious pack of tweenage boys, which one doesn't always come upon! They walked by again later, and another one jokingly asked me, "Hey, do you smoke?" and they shared warm laughter that didn't really seem to mock the original misinterpreter. Anyway, it's stuff like this that makes me love what I do.

9. I was sure that kid thinking my sign meant that I smoke was just a fluke, but then an adult made the same mistake later! He stopped, considered "Smokin'..." aloud, and asked if I had a cigarette. His adult friends laughed as well and gave him a hard time, so I really hope these two are unique in this conclusion. I'm used to the trouble my sign gives me based on unintentional sexual connotations, but I never expected this! I could do a great graphic of an accordion with a cigarette hanging out of its bellows if that was the message I was giving! We'll see if this confusion persists...

10. Lastly, the Grumpy Bum walked by again. He ranted about something, and I heard just the words "every day." He's in for a surprise if he thinks my presence was a one time thing! I started to say "I'm really sorry..." but he wanted away, muttering "hargle bargle sorry...humf." This guy stressed me out for the remainder of the evening. I'm catastrophizing the worst-case scenario, where he insists I move every time and continually heckles me, getting all the homeless folks to gang up on me. I'm also assuming that he doesn't like the fact that I'm a foreigner coming to compete, and I found myself thinking about a good lie that might win his sympathy, about being an orphan raised by gypsies who went to American International Schools all over the place, thus explaining my American accent (and impeccable use of grammar?). Or I thought about being an outlaw who couldn't leave the country, so he'd have to get used to me. My brother reminded me that cops don't generally love homeless people, so they probably wouldn't side with them, but I still worry. That's too good a spot to give up. I'll just stick to the West End by Castle St and not walk by that guy in the first place. Maybe he'll leave walking the other direction next time.

I'm not making as much money as I'm used to, but it's not a terrible hourly rate and I must remember that it adds up! As it's my only source of income now, I really have to be disciplined about going out at least four days a week, two hours a day. Then I can cover some expenses. Gearing up for a big Valentine's Day, so we'll hopefully have a lot to report then!

Love,
S^3