Sofas in the Wind (Copenhagen)

Oh....Copenhagen.  My amazing week in Denmark began with a fabulous busking session right when I arrived.  In fact, I think enough happened to swing a normally-formatted post with a numbered list and everything.

Køpenhavn: 4 and 9 November 2012
Valeria and I pulled into Copenhagen Central Station and decided to hop on buses to our respective destinations: her hostel and my CouchSurfing host's home.  However, the bus meant getting money, and it was Sunday and there didn't seem to be any Bureaus-de-Change open near the station.  Since I had a mishap with my bank card (accidentally shipped it from Scotland to the US), I didn't have access to an ATM for the first three weeks of my trip.  I earned money by busking, then changed that money from Euros to Czech Krona back to Euros, and I intended to change what was left into Danish Krona.  Despite retrieving my card in Berlin, I aspired to complete my whole trip without using an ATM (I made it until Reykjavik, but unfortunately caved).  Since I couldn't change money, the only way to pay bus fare in Copenhagen this day was to withdraw money from an ATM then change it to coins in a bar somewhere.  Orrrrr, to go busk.  Additionally, it was a beautiful day, much warmer than Germany, and busking is a great introduction to a city.  And so I said goodbye to Valeria and went out to find a spot on Strøget, the pedestrian shopping street.

When I had taken about ten steps, a man outside a cafe got my attention.  He asked if he could take my photo, since I was very colorful.  It's true, I was wearing my piano dress with clip-on flowers in my hair and red lipstick, wearing my green backpack covered in flag patches, and towing my colorful accordion box with my red coat strapped in.  This was nice, because he and his two friends were really friendly about it, and the guy looked super Scandinavian.  It was my first impression of Danish people, and Scandinavians in general, and it was a good one!  Here's the photo he took, which he sent over:

I kept walking, passing a group of traditional Andean buskers and a couple men on guitars.  I chose a spot just far enough away from one guitar player, in front of a closed jewelry shop.  I didn't expect to stay long because it is a popular busking street and I was right across from a store with an open door, but no one gave me any trouble.  It was also mostly flat enough for Flaca's mechanics to work!  I arranged my luggage and unnecessary outerwear and got to work.

Things were weird with Flaca.  For whatever reason, she was incredibly quiet.  Her appeal is mostly visual, but I count on the sound coming from her feet both to attract attention and also as a cue for me if she is working, so I can look out at people rather than at her.  She wasn't moving perfectly either, probably because the rubber band was on its way out.  Mostly, she wasn't attracting attention.

I decided to do my old act.  One gimmick of that act is the student loan sign which isn't great on the road, being in English.  Everyone speaks English in Copenhagen, though, so I decided to display everything.  It was so nice doing the old stuff!  There are so many songs I haven't played for a couple months now because they don't work with Flaca, or I just haven't worked them out yet with her.  I've missed them!  I decided to take advantage of my fresh slate in the new town to get super into it, focusing on my full performance and trying to play off people.  It paid off, and this act attracted more attention than Flaca's.  Since I hadn't seen Danish money yet, I had no idea what tips were worth as they came in, so I couldn't estimate earnings.  In the end it wasn't a hugely lucrative day, but it solved the initial problem of not having any currency and it was super fun.

1.  An Irish family stopped by twice: two adult males and about four little boys, wearing matching tweed caps.  They asked if I speak English, then asked if I know Irish tunes.  I said I could do "Whiskey in the Jar," which they approved.  I hadn't done it since St. Patrick's Day so it was rusty, but that mattered not since one little boy took over singing.  So precious!  They stopped again on their return trip and asked me to play another.  I chose "The Wild Rover" this time, and a couple measures in, mentioned singing.  I told the one boy that he had a much better singing voice than I, so he should sing, but the little munchkin insisted that I do the vocals as well.  This is not something I usually do, but I raised my voice in a little sing-along.  I secretly hoped the Irish pub across the street would hear this commotion and pay me to play inside.  These boys were lovely, and it was a nice interaction!

2.  I got a tip from a lady who looked to be very typically Danish.  She was an older woman with long grey hair, wore a dress, and rode a typical vintage-style bicycle with a basket with flowers woven in.  Her warm smile and words were another vote towards Danes being Great.

3.  A teenage hooligan walked by with his friends during "The Final Countdown" and he gave me a typical rock star pose and hand gesture.  Nice.

4.  A middle-aged couple stopped, and we talked.  "What is it called?" the woman asked.  "An accordion!"  "But what exactly would you call one of that size?"  "A red 12-bass piano accordion."  She explained that she used to have an accordion and has recently thought about picking it up again.  I explained that mine was from eBay; a gift from my parents.  "You have nice parents!" they exclaimed.  "Yeah, well when they bought it they didn't expect me to end up playing it on the street in Copenhagen!"  Hee hee.

5.  Another busker band set up quite close on my other side: accordion, double bass, and a third.  I'm sure they were great, since I love that kind of thing, but they were so close!  But they packed up quite quickly.

6.  The first Great Dane I had met stopped by again, and this time saw everything unpacked.  He took another photo:

7.  A [crazy woman] walked by, muttering, "...taking the energy out of the women and putting it on sofas in the wind."  You tell 'em.

I packed up for the sanity of shop workers, but it was getting busier on the streets!  I was going to do another set with Flaca because it was dark and the lights would add to the effect, but I wouldn't really find another spot.  Also, I was looking forward to meeting Henrik, my seemingly adorable host :).  I saw a few other buskers: a juggler doing a big circle show, a guy who had walked past me playing guitar and singing with lots of equipment and selling CDs.  Over the course of my week there I heard a man playing "Memory" on the clarinet about fifteen times.

I didn't busk again for a few days.  We did, however, record a video on election day.  I went out again the following Friday, for a brief set in the late afternoon hours.  This time I set up on another pedestrian shopping street where I had previous seen buskers and high school students selling various goodies as a fundraiser.  Oh, a youth/high school choir had been out at one point.

This set was quite bad.  I forgot about the previous reaction to Flaca and used her, but I made very little money.  I did attract attention, and had a lot of strollers halted to watch.  Kids did look around the back, as they do best, but their parents didn't always give them something to throw in.  This was probably a bad time of day, when folks were going home, but it was still disconcerting.  Copenhagen's a cool place, why the bad rates?

I may possibly go back though, because my host turned out to, in fact, be adorable in real life.  If I do go back I will seek non-shopping pitches and try to find the best possible act for this city.  Regardless of the lack of money made, busking in Copenhagen was great.

Berlin und "Brazil"

Germany, oddly enough, is the country in which I have busked in the second-most locations, after the US: I hit three cities in the Spring, and two more in the Fall!  This post is about boring, disappointing busking on Halloween in Berlin, and nice busking in addition to a gig and puppet inspiration in Lübeck.  So here we go!

BERLIN: 31 October 2012
My stay in Berlin overlapped with Halloween.  Since America rules the world, I assumed the celebrations would match those expected in the US: kids with parents, packs of drunk people, etc.  I would raid my Couch Surfing host's closet and put together a costume, or just play up the piano dress.  I would surely earn a fortune.

If Halloween was a big deal, it was well hidden.  I brought my kit with me all day, mainly because it was really nice out, and planned to play for tourists before finding a good spot to set up for the evening.  In reality, there is not much to report.

I headed straight for the Brandenburg Gate, a tourist-ridden area at which Pockets had set up recently.  There is an island between two roads leading up to the gate that is filled with "buskers," people in stupid store-bought costumes accepting tips.  A significant amount of this space was taken up by demonstrators as well, so spots were few.  I asked a bear if you need a permit, and he said yes, definitely.  I considered setting up anyway, but there was an exceptional number of police officers around.

I walked down the Under der Linden boulevard and saw the potential of playing near the queue for Madame Tussaud's.  I found a good spot and set up.  Right as I was ready to play, a man came out of the building behind me and said I couldn't play there.  Flashed a vague badge in case I questioned his authority.  Fine, but he could have told me sooner, since he could clearly see me set up through the big window!  I moved a block away and set up, fitting in a few run-throughs of Flaca's set.

This was okay, I made a few tips but nothing much.  Some old ladies loved it, and a few families with children stopped.  One teenage boy actually held money above the box, then said, "Nope" and kept walking.  I made sure to yell after him and make him reconsider his treatment of buskers.

I packed up because I remembered I had to make it to the US embassy to vote before it closed.  After that fiasco (they not only wouldn't let me use the printer and scanner, but the German security guard physically escorted me out) I didn't put in a real session.  I planned to, being Halloween and all, but the stars weren't aligned to find a good spot.

I did set up briefly in front of the cathedral at dusk.  This was a good spot: tourists, on a busy street, people waiting for buses.  I got a bit of attention, and, more importantly, instigated a serious make-out session with my romantic accordion music.  But then another busker set up on the other end of the Dom courtyard with an electric guitar and amp and commenced the loudest set I have ever heard.  There was no possible way of continuing.

I kept walking, and soon crossed a cute bridge going over the canal.  It was full-on sunset and quite pleasant out, so I decided to try my luck a third time.  There were stalls on each side of the bridge selling furry hats and tacky WWII plastic memorabilia, so I seemed in good company.  Flaca looked nice with the lights on, but this still wasn't great.  The sidewalk proved to be too narrow to effectively draw spectators, and the ones who did stop stood in the bike lane, which is no good.  A police car stopped across the street, and I had the idea to turn off Flaca's lights and keep a low profile.  Sure enough, the vendors also threw sheets over their wares and looked away, whistling (or the equivalent).  I decided to just pack up then anyway.

Now that the sun was down, it was time to get into Halloween mode.  I stopped in Alexanderplatz, but there just weren't people out.  I figured a regular neighborhood with bars and restaurants would be better, so I went back to the neighborhood where I was staying.  It was early, but it was pretty desolate, and so I gave up.

I think Berlin is comparable to Boston and San Francisco in that way: good place to busk as long as you don't do it downtown.  I'm sure Berlin has neighborhoods comparable to Cambridge and the Castro, but I simply didn't know what they were.  Big cities require research, which I hadn't really done.  And so I dismissed my vision of awesome Halloween busking with lots of characters and stories and laughs. What I did do, though, from a dingy internet café that had visits from a few young Trick of Treaters, was VOTE!  Yay!

LÜBECK: 2 November 2012:
I wrapped up Berlin (by which I mean declared that this visit wouldn't really work out and that I must return under other circumstances) and headed to Lübeck, in the North of Germany.  This was a much-anticipated stop, since it was totally random.  I had originally planned to go to places I had heard of, Hamburg being my stop in the North, but the more I read about it the less appealing it seemed.  Each of the guidebooks I skimmed before departing had a small blurb on Lübeck, but each made it sound appealing, boasting its famous marzipan, cute churches, and renowned puppet museum  Sounds good, right?  Mostly, this trip taught me that I much prefer small towns, so why not go to random ones?

I arrived in Lübeck on a Friday afternoon, in the company of an awesome Italian-Swiss friend I made on the train, Valeria.  I love being a solo-traveler, but meeting this amazing young woman with similar interests and travel style was so wonderful at this stage of the trip.  I wasn't planning on busking that evening, rather saving it for a big Saturday, but it made sense to once I learned of the rainy weekend forecast.  There is a lot I could say about Lübeck, but I will split it into three performance-relevant blurbs: busking, the gig, and the puppet museum.

I. Busking
It seems that I don't have notes about this, so I will have to try to remember.  Valeria and I had been out shopping earlier (needed a coat before I got to Scandinavia), so we scoped out one of the main pedestrian streets.  Although I try to avoid shopping streets, this seemed like my best bet in a town of that size.  There was certainly foot traffic, and ample space to set up.  We had seen several buskers: one guy with curly hair playing both accordion and trumpet, an old man playing accordion, a few young male guitar players, a young woman playing the bagpipes (a tune I recognized from the streets of Edinburgh), and a guy producing huge bubbles in a larger square.  I've seen quite a few of these recently; it must be a new busking fad.  The sad thing is, he probably makes a ton more money than musicians, and he can properly bundle up and doesn't have to work a long day.  Ah, well.  Once it got dark I retrieved my gear from our host's house and came back out.

I set up outside the town hall, which had some musicians coming and going from it (fancy ones with big cases and elegant apparel).  The street was pretty busy, and I had nice crowds.  Some children did the typical thing of coming around and looking at the back of the box, seeking an explanation for Flaca's movement.  One little boy did his duty of touching everything and trying to talk to me, ignoring my "Ich spreche kein Deutsch"es.  One young man recognized me from my ad on CouchSurfing, and claims he sent me a message inviting me to stay.  I had missed that one!  That has happened before, and I'm always glad when people come say hi. 

An older guy with a guitar walked by, looked at me, then took a seat on a nearby bench with a bottle in a brown paper bag (very cliché, I know).  I thought it must be his spot, but he didn't say anything.  A couple times he picked up the guitar and started following along, but luckily he wasn't persistent enough that it reeeally annoyed me.  It was a good spot and, as usual, I was surprised I was allowed to stay.

Valeria listened for a bit, then she went out in search of food.  A local young man struck up conversation with her, and showed her around a little bit.  The two came back together as I was packing up, and the guy clearly wanted to hang out with us.  We exaggerated the exclusivity of our plans, and Valeria graciously accepted his email address.  It was a pretty tame set, but it was nice to have my coin bag jingling again after being dormant in Berlin! 

Then it was time for...

II: The Gig
My CouchSurfing host, Cherie (who generously took in Valeria as well), arranged a gig for me at her friend's bar, Cafe Brazil: http://cafe-brazil.net/ .  I had expressed concern about the wet forecast, so she mentioned her friend's bar, as people often do, as a place to play.  But she went as far as really organizing me to play!  I did not like that idea at first.  I didn't want the attention, and I preferred to stay on the street where I would surely make better tips.  But I thought more about it.  I would go on at nine, after I would quit busking anyway.  She said it was a cool place, really informal, and was confident that I wouldn't embarrass myself.  Furthermore, her friend offered Valeria and I free food and drinks.  Okay, then!  Either way, it would be a story.  So I finally consented.

Cafe Brazil is awesome.  It's a collective, so the staff are all volunteers.  It's popular among, like, punks, and there's a funky mix of used furniture and art and stuff.  It was a really cool atmosphere, reddish lights, a ton of smoke in the air.  It's a little hard to find, so its customers really mean it.  We got there early to eat.  It turns out every night, or Friday night or something, they just cook a bunch of vegetarian (vegan?) food and people can pay what they want for it.  Tonight was pasta with tomatoes and tofu, and salad.  Mmm!  And free beer for us.  So we sat around and ate and drank and talked to Cherie more.  The place filled up nicely, partly because there is a venue in the same building that has big shows, and there was a band that night.  There were some normal looking folks who clearly eat dinner here often, and also a lot of fashionable punks just drinking, even playing cards.  Leonard kept suggesting I wait for more people, and I finally went on stage at like 10:15.  Stage was just an elevated corner next to the TV, since there were already a bunch of tables and sofas on the real stage.  And I played.

It was actually quite nice, people were aware of me but not focusing on me, which is what I wanted.   It was cool to get applause after songs, and to feel really mysterious responding to the occasional comment with "Ich spreche kein Deutsch."  It was mostly nice to play all my songs again, since I'm only doing a few with Flaca.  As predicted, people liked "The Final Countdown" and "What is Love?", and the retired Lady Gaga medley went over quite well.  I took a couple breaks, to look really cool and get another beer.  Leonard had to step out and he missed the whole set, unfortunately.  Cherie and I secretly discussed the possibility of passing a hat, to which she had donated in the past when there were performers, but I certainly didn't want to start it.  So Valeria donated her hat, and Cherie asked one of the hooligans working the bar to pass it around.  It came back with a little money in it, like ten Euros probably.  At least it's something!  It wasn't awesome enough or remotely a disaster to make it a really good story, but it was certainly a memorable experience.   I really ought to have sought more indoor bar gigs on the road, since I really had nothing to lose, being a foreign traveler.  Next time!

III. The Puppet Museum
Puppetry was a major theme of my Fall trip, since Flaca now has an active role in my act and I am thinking about what else to do with her.  I visited several puppet museums in the Czech Republic, and have a general greater understanding of basic marionette stuff.  The museum in Lübeck, however, was really awesome.  While the Czech republic ones had very similar marionettes, including the mass-produced ones for sale in the gift shops, this museum had over 20,000 marionettes from all over the world and various eras.  We saw human and animal puppets from Asia and Africa, Chinese shadow puppets, artifacts from strange puppet traditions such as the "walking puppet theatre" (puppeteer has her arms in puppets in a theatre that is mounted to her with a cloth over her head, so all spectators see is a theater and legs), tiny marionette theatres, etc. etc.  The museum was started by one man, who traveled the world going to antique shops and making these amazing finds.  I highly recommend this museum.  I have some general ideas of what I want to do with the puppetry side of my act, but it will take a lot of thinking and sketching and engineering (or just asking Tom) to make it work.  I'm very excited, though.

I took Saturday off of busking, despite the lack of the forecast rain, then Valeria and I hopped on a train to Copenhagen!

Český Krumlov

Today was my first snowy busking of the season!  I took a break from the hustle and bustle of Prague to go to the tiny, adorable, UNESCO recognized town of Český Krumlov.  This was a fabulous getaway: I stayed in a really cozy hostel, Krumlov House, heard a live gypsy band, ate goulash with bread dumplings, and blissfully watched the first snowfall of the season.

I planned to busk, since I was sure it would be full of tourists, but the weather prohibited my standard Saturday marathon.  Instead, I set up this morning for a couple hours on a lovely bridge going over the Vltava river.  I had a view of not only the river but the colorful tower of the castle, and the dusting of snow over the roofs and the hills beyond.

A man at the other end of the bridge was selling mulled wine and hot chocolate, ringing a bell on occasion.  Everything was a bit slushy and icy, so I kicked some snow out of the way to try to make a level surface for my setup.  Regardless, everything was wet, so I could not put anything down.  All my setup was done with my accordion on!  

There was a decent amount of foot traffic.  The majority of people were in tour groups, but there were smaller parties, as well as locals and children.  One kid chucked some snowballs at her mother who didn't notice, because she was watching me.  Yesss.  One older Czech tour guide tried saying something to me, then mimed that I shouldn't play while she was talking.  Fair enough.  In general, a couple other locals commented, but it was hard to assess their sentiments about my performance.  One looked sort of like a sad clown; loose trousers tucked into his pink socks, with an old ratty cap.  He said something, with a frown, then gave me a thumbs up.  Next time he walked by, it was up to two thumbs.  Another similarly disheveled older man with a big beard did the same, but applauded.

My favourite interaction was with a well-dressed man with a pointed beard and tween cap.  He actually looked quite a bit like my late Great Uncle Klaus.  This man is originally from London but now lives in Austria.  He asked me for a song, then secretly suggested I play "Happy Birthday," in case it was someone's birthday in the vicinity.  There were three big tour groups around, so stastically it could have been.  I played it, and this man sang.  All heads turned, and sure enough a man in one group patten another on the shoulder, pretty much implying that it was his birthday.  Ha.  

Despite the glorious scenery, I was quite cold.  I don't have my full winter busking attire, and I was standing in a snowbank.  Occasionally I would lean backwards against the wall of the bridge, and halfway through the set I realized that it was wet.  My fingers were quite cold, and I began making frozen-finger related mistakes.  At one point I goofily wore my big wooly glove-mitten in its fingerless glove format on my right hand only.  My toes were cold, and the elastic on my left foot kept sticking to the ice!  Surely a fascinating science fact in action.  Yes, it was icy and occasionally when I lifted my more-firmly-planted left foot to activate Flaca's arm, I wold slip and have to catch myself.  Both of the elastics got quite wet and left fun patterns on my shoes.  

People were walking by with delicious-looking hot chocolate from the man near me, so finally I slid over to treat myself to a cup.  Mmm!  I played for about two hours total, earning both Crowns and Euros.  I was completely frozen, the back of my dress soaked through, when I packed up, so naturally i went to a traditional Bohemian pub for some mead.  Hit the spot!  I'd better get used to it, though, my trip is far from paid for.  Even though now I am predominantly couchsurfing and my rail pass is valid, I need to keep playing to raise funds.  Let there be mead, or its local equivalent, aplenty!

Puppetry in Prague

Greetings from Prague!  Specifically, "Dobry den" and "Ahoi."  We last left off in Salzburg, the quaint little city where I was able to properly debut Flaca's Flyin' Feet and make some money.  I next went to Vienna, but I did not busk because you need a permit in the city center, and mostly because I couldn't be bothered to try it other places.  Next I crossed the czech border and went to the town of Olomouc.  I thought this would be good for weekend busking, perhaps comparable to Antwerp and Salzburg, non-main-cities in which I did well on my last trip.  It is a gorgeous town and I'm so glad I made the stop, but it is Czech custom to go away for the weekends, so the town was deserted.  So now I am here, voila, in Prague, the destination I have most looked forward to.  After all, this is my third attempt to come here; since I planned to go both in 2009 when I was in Spain and last spring, but it never happened.

And so I arrived, and decided to busk right away.  My bank card arrived safely at home, and it is being turned around and will await my arrival in Berlin.  So for now, I have to live off the money I made in Salzburg, which was starting to run out.  And so I arrived at the station, navigated to the Old Town Square using only a compass (not something I recommend; get a map) and began to look for a pitch.  There were buskers right away, which was a good omen.  One man had a table of glasses filled with water that he played.  This [crazy] guy "danced."  A woman did amazing things with big bubbles.  There was one statue, and a trombone trio, who I asked about permits.  They said they didn't have one, so I was probably good to go.  There wasn't a perfect pitch for me so I indulged myself by following signs to the Charles Bridge, the picturesque spot at which I really wanted to play, a place that would surely be good at dusk, a pitch that even my disapproving Grandmother hinted that she might approve of. 

The bridge is everything I thought it would be.  It is old and cobbled and symmetrical and pretty in its own, and supplemented by statues, views, and sunset lighting.  There were many busker colleages set up, specifically caricature artists.  I proceeded halfway across the bridge, since I need to set up on level ground, and was lucky to see an older gentleman packing up his microphone, amp, etc.  I didn't see what he does.  I indicated inquisitively that I wanted to set up there, and he nodded.  Score!

And so I set up.  I love that people now watch me set up, for however long it takes.  And its taking longer now, since I'm adding string lights, and I had to put the jingles back on Flaca's foot since one fell out.  And figure out how to level the box on the cobblestones.  I had a really big crowd by the time I squeezed my first note!  In general the crowds kept coming, and it was always clear who was watching because it's a bridge, so they can't just peek from around a corner a block away. 

This was such a good feeling.  I felt so good to have crowds, that people couldn't resist stopped, that they clapped, that they tipped.  Frowns turned upside-down, tears stopped, lips met.  Fingers followed the strings, figuring it out, feet tapped along.  And what did I get to look at on the horizon?  Medieval lanterns reflected on a gentle river; a glowing castle; amazing architecture in every direction.  Bliss.  The temperature was perfect, I wasn't worried about anything, and it just felt so good.  Also, it hasn't been dark enough to use the lights since the first night I debuted the setup, and that was very magical: two spotlights on Flaca, and a little string of LED christmas lights on top. 

Who knew a bridge could cause such happiness!  If I get married one day, and get proposed to (which is doubtful since I'm impatient), I really hope it happens on this bridge.  But now that I've made that public it won't really be a surprise if it does, will it. 

After a while a lady with a badge came up and said something in Czech, then asked in English if I have a license.  Nope.  She was super nice though, explaining that you need one for the bridge, but not for xxx and yyy.  Totally friendly and civil.  This city has a lot going for it so far. 

And so I packed up.  It was only 7:00 so I wanted to play more, but first I just wandered through Karlova St., a nice narrow pedestrian street filled with shops and theatres and restaurants.  I found the marionette theatre that puts on daily productions of Don Giovanni with puppets, for which I could not be more excited (someone said it was only in the summer, and I almost canceled the rest of my trip).  I peeked into some of the shops that sell little touristy puppets, since I will definitely be going home with at least one.  Had some ice cream.  Accused the lady of overcharging me, which she didn't.  Oops.  I thought about setting up in the Old Town Square again, but there was a drum group that was quite loud.  So I set up on Celetna, another pedestrian shopping street that isn't quite as quaint, but on my way back to the hostel.  This was better musically because the ground was more level, but of course  not as magical. 

Oh, it's so hard to say "thank you" in Czech mid-song!  The word is "diky," (with accents) but it doesn't come naturally yet, so I either say "thank you," "danke schoen," or just nod.  Most patrons are English-speakers anyway.

I am really looking forward to playing more in this city, a city of puppets and tourists, and getting more familiar with Koruna coins!  In general I am looking forward to this new act and the experiences it will bring me.  Once I get home I'll have to quickly make Flaca a Nutcracker costume (or more realistically a little matching elf costume) in time for our Christmas routine. 

More updates soon on busking here, and a full review of puppet Don Giovanni! 

Nashledanou!

Salzburg 2

I love playing in Salzburg!  People are friendly, children are abundant, and wallets seem to be heavy.  I set up this afternoon after my Sound of Music tour of Salzburg (did you notice in the movie that Gretel keeps getting fatter, because everyone kept giving her cake all through the shooting?) where the human statue had been the previous day.  It seemed like a good pitch, and indeed I wasn't shut down.  I still don't understand my comments in German, but I like to think my pronunciation of "Danke Shöen" improves every time.

Sunday, 14 October, 2012
1. A man talked to me in German, so I said I don't speak it.  He asked a question which was undoubtedly, "What DO you speak?" and I said "English."  "Ahh, England!" he replied.  "Elizabeth!  [German word for Queen?] Elizabeth!" and he did this funny thing to act it out, like puffed out his chest and did a facial expression.  So I mimed a crown to help it out.  He asked, "Salzburg...one day?  Two days?"  "Three days."  "Then Vienna?"  "Then Budapest!"  He told me the people are very good, and mimed tipping.  Said the Swiss are good too.

2.  Another old man (or it might have been the same one, really) got as far as determining I speak English when I asked him if he speaks English.  "A little."  "Or Spanish!"  His response was in German, but undoubtedly meant "even less!"  Funny how intonation can get you so far.

3.  A man left me his phone number :)  Contrary to what I expected, this doesn't actually ever happen.  I said I was leaving, and he said to call him in the morning.  No thanks, but still a good one for the scrapbook.

4.  I don't love my hostel and haven't had great luck on Couch Surfing this time, so I secretly hoped that someone would see me playing and invite me to stay.  One older woman talked to me, with a little bit of English, and asked if I have a place to live.  I sort of didn't even get it, and said I was staying at a hostel.  Oh damn, that was my shot.  Oh well.

5.  One little boy lingered for quite some time, getting more and more involved in the act.  He kept asking me questions, but didn't respond to my "Ich spreche kein Deutsch."  So I felt bad for just smiling and ignoring him.  He saw the lights, which I set up with Flaca even though they can't turn on, and commented "licht!"  Hey, now I know a new word.  I tried miming while saying that when it gets dark I turn the lights on, and an American mother watching encouraged her evidently bilingual daughter to translate for the boy.  He stayed put, despite our language barrier.  I decided to hang up the string lights I got, even though it was light out, and asked him to help, which just meant holding it.  And he said something about my trailer, so I nodded.  It came time to pack up, so I put my accordion down.  He undoubtedly asked if he could play it, so I nodded while I packed up.  Then he wordlessly helped me put stuff in the box, and I let him close the lid and put it on the trailer.  It was really awesome having this non-communicative experience with a little boy in a foreign country.  I guess that's why I do this!

6.  Another little girl lingered for a while and said a lot to me.  I continued just smiling and nodding, but then her dad translated one comment: that I had played the theme to Wallace and Gromit!  Every once in a while Americans will recognize it, but only in weird places like San Francisco or Northampton.  Of course all the Brits recognized it, but I really didn't expect anything playing it in Austria.  Awesome!  This girl also kept trying to speak German for me, and finally her father intervened and told her I don't speak German.  She asked if I speak French, as translated by her dad.  I said no, but that I speak Spanish, which the father relayed.  The girl responded and the father laughed before translating: "She thinks you should speak French...and a little German."  Excellent advice!

7.  Two other adorable kids on bikes stopped for a while, and like went all around my setup figuring it out.  It was time to go, but the dad had a hard time getting the littlest one to come with them.  They tried many times, and finally the older daughter biked back over with the little one's pacifier to lure her away.  Wow, I'm  more entertaining than a pacifyer!

8.  I took a break and walked around (the Mozart birth house was my destination, but they had no where to leave my gear).  I decided to play more, and as I came back to the spot two sort of sketchy guys were sitting nearby.  As I walked by one pointed at me as he talked to his friend, so I gave a polite wave, assumign he had said, "Oh my God, there she is, the puppet accordion lady!!!"  I realized that he could equally have likely pointed out that I had a sack full of coins, and that I'd better watch my back.  Not to make assumptions, but I've never had trouble, and it's bound to kick in sometime.

9.  I try not to gloat about money anymore, as I did in early pre-blog facebook posts about busking, but I msut say that Salzburg is treating me well.  Well, the puppet is treating me well.  I predicted that I'd do better with the puppet, and it's proving to be true.  I think part of if is that my non-puppet gimmick is the student loans sign, so in a place full of non-English speakers, I need a non-verbal gimmick.  This is just so thrilling, since I'm totally out of money.  Especially since I don't have my bank card; I reaaally need to be making money on the road.  Three times I started packing up, then saw I had a crowd waiting, so I kept going.  I'm also feeling like a bit of a celebrity, since a few parties from this morning's tour went by and commented on my celebrity status, and a guy at the hostel just asked, "Is it possible that I saw you busking earlier?"  Yes it is, my friend.

10.  A man came up and said her sister is looking for a musician to play at her "marriage."  It's in Salzburg next June, will I still be here?  I told them maybe!  Hell, maybe I'll go back to Edinburgh for the Fringe and travel all summer before!  Always a nice proposition :)

I'm sure there was so much more, but I didn't write stuff down for whatever reason.  JP, who is, by the way, completely on my black list and never to be trusted again, let alone credited with good ideas, advised me to try to centre my new act around doing a show, not just being a walk-by act.  I'm toying with the idea and seeing if that makes a difference.  I am getting decent crowds, but whenever I stop to fix a foot thing or drink water, they do take it as a cue to leave and tip or not tip and walk away.  So I do want to test doing shows, which would be an epic four-song medley, I guess.  But I don't want to completely piss off vendors and such, so I think i could do two shows.  Maybe The Godfather-Paint it Black-Funiculi Funicula and Vieni Sul Mar-The Final Countdown-La Donna e Mobile.  Those songs seem to be the best.

I do mean to record a proper video demo sometime, but since the first video (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crspu63V3aU&noredirect=1  and that's the first day, I've gotten better!) I've added a string on her right hand, which I can yank as I please to flail her hand out.  It's so much fun and looks so silly!  I like doing it and fun times and seeing people's reactions.  You can usually count on somebody to wave their arm as well, confirming that they saw it.  Oh, and everyone taps their feet in solidarity.

Next stop is either Budapest or Vienna.  I want to go to Budapest, but it all comes down to money.  I don't think they're on the Euro, and since I can't withdraw cash I might get into some trouble.  Or just busk right away for local currency!

Off to go do hostel things like look at trains and maybe have some beeeeer.

Salzburg

Saturday, 13 October 2012
Greetings from Österreich!  (Weird keyboard alert!)
So, I didn't really wrap up my time in Edinburgh.  I won't do that now either, so here's the very short version: business slowed down, it started getting cold, I debuted the puppet theatre, it's going well, did my last Saturday market, did my last Stockbridge market, played a child's birthday party, the end.

Then I played one last gig with KAIHO, then hopped on a plane!  And here I am in Salzburg, on the beginning of a trip that will take me through Austria, (Budapest?), (Bratislava?), the Czech Republic, NE Germany, Denmark, Norway, Iceland, then hoooooome.

How am I paying for this trip, after blowing all my savings on being abroad this year?, you may ask.  Well, mandatory busking.  My last trip it was optional, but now I have to do it.  Especially since I accidentallz shipped my bank card home with all my stuff.  Oops.

So today it began.  It was Saturday, so naturally I had to take advantage of the crowds.  It was an especially nice Saturday, too, due to gorgeous weather and a "Bio Fest" that brought families with childrens to the streets of the Altstadt.

Step one was to observe the pitches.  I set out, thinking I'd see a ton of buskers, but I did not.  There were many beggars, though, so of course I wanted to keep my distance and not test how territorial they are.  One woman was setting up on one side of a pedestrian bridge.  She had an accordion, and seemed to be applying face paint of some sort.  I didn't stick around to see it.

I wove through the narrow pedestrian streets of the old town that were certainly full of people (one American tourist came out of a store and grumpily quoted to her party, "No English."  Cringe).  But I wanted to check out the squares.  I saw two buskers near the Alter Markt, a silver statue "playing" a piano held up by a stack of books, and...a puppeteer!  His puppet was dressed like Mozart, I presume, and played a little piano as well.  But not Mozart music; like, pop.

And so I set up in the Alter Markt square on the side of a fountain.  Oh, I should say, all the tourist shops sell piano-key and musical note themed merchandise, so my dress fits in quite well.

This was a success.  I had a lot of people stop to watch, kids wanting to put money in, smiles on old ladies' faces.  One woman sat for a bit and seemed to sketch me.  I've had challenges with Flaca's setup being unlevel, but today it was fine and functioning.  Also, I hadn't played accordion for a while, so I sounded pretty good.  One man, however, who was walking around town with what seemed to be a studded dog's collar in his hand, had a negative comment.  "Laut, laut!" he yelled.  I tried to play a little quieter in case anyone of higher power agreed.  But I wasn't asked to move.

Some women did set up ninety degrees from me at the same fountain collecting signatures for something.  After a while they turned on a recording of Asian-sounding music, which must go with the cause.  

Every once in a while, someone would say something of a decent length, so I'd have to say, "Ich spreche kein Deutsch."  They usually smiled, said more in German, then walked away.  

But one man sort of translated his comment, pointing out that I have 12 buttons.  I nodded, and gave him the universal symbol for "small."  Then he said something about the number 8, which could have been buttons, but then sounded like his small child?  Not sure. 

Another two men, however, followed up, asking, "English?  Romanian?"  I guess the latter are the accordion players they're used to?  I said, "English...or Spanish!"  This other guy heard that and excitedly came over and tipped, complimenting my abillity to speak Spanish, in Spanish.  Knew including that would pay off!  I talked further to these men, confirming that I'm from Scotland (a pasttime in which I can engage once again).  One said, "As long as you say you're from Scotland, people will like you."  I took that to mean Scotland rather than the US, then realized the US hadn't entered this conversation.  Ah...Romania.  Okay.  I saw one of these men again later, after I had changed locations.  He mentioned that the cafe behind me was very good, if you like coffee and cake.  We chatted for a bit, and he invited me for said coffee and cake.  Very nice, but I wasn't quite up for explaining my tendency to avoid caffeine, and generally wasn't super up for smalltalk (I've got a bit of a cold).  But so nice!

As I mentioned, I moved spots.  I took a break in which I walked around the outdoor market and had some food, sampled some delicious cheese, and realized that I really need to practice key phrases in German.  I was going to sit somewhere and study my guidebook to make a plan, but saw that the other puppeteer had packed up.  His spot really was a good one, on a narrow pedestrian street without a lot of shops to annoy.  So I decided to expedite my second set and play a bit longer.  

This was even better, due to the street.  I had decent crowds, which I'm really not used to, and I became aware that I've improved at operating the puppet without sacrificing accordion playing.  I was sure, for the first time since doing the puppet setup, that it was a good thing.  Three students reacted to Paint it Black, and sang along, then came over and immediately started speaking English.  It turns out they're here studying abroad, and from Ohio.  They were pretty helpful discussing sites.  

I sent a few emails on Couch Surfing, and one person replied saying that he had seen me busking, playing "Fur Elise."  Hmm, not sure what song that could have been, but pretty cool!

I was going to squeeze in one more set, maybe around dusk to get the effect of the stagelights, but I was tired.  It was a totally succesful day, though, and the main older man said that Sunday will be even better.  So I'll play for a bit after my Sound of Music tour!

Till next time.

"Sounds Like a Tune"

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I'm writing this on the train to Glasgow! Aren't I cool?

My time in Edinburgh is winding down. I am now entering my final week in Auld Reekie, and I'm simultaneously trying to busk a lot to raise money for my travels and deprioritize work in favor of packing and organization. That said, I have two days of playing to catch up on.

Although tourism has slowed down, there are still people out. I'm not sure if this will be the case a month from now, so I am glad I decided to take off when I did. It has gotten quite cold, and I am now beginning to don my winter busking attire: double leggings, quadruple sweaters, hat and gloves.

I had the slowest Saturday I've had in a while. I attribute this to the Scottish independence march on Saturday morning. I mentioned in Friday's post that a local songwriter gave me sheet music for a song he had written for the aforementioned cause, and we discussed the possibility of playing it together at the march. As fun as it would have been, I deemed this less of a moneymaker than simply playing at the market, so I skipped it. The market ended up being quite slow, possibly because everyone was at the march, which wove through the Old Town and ended up in the Princes St. Gardens for a rally. Vendors at the market commented that many regulars hadn't shown up. It was quite interesting to see folks on their way to the march, though, typically wearing kilts and/or Scotland rugby jerseys and holding flags. Since I wasn't making a fortune anyway, I decided too late that it might have been worth it to just watch the march as a final Scottish experience. Oh well.

I got to the market earlier than I usually do, by 10:30. I figured I usually miss some of the primo market crowds, and since I'm trying to fundraise I got out of bed on time. I set up at my old end for a a last attempt at loyalty before assessing the disadvantages of that side and moving to the more popular end. An ensemble with three accordions and a few violins played folk music in the middle pitch, with a banner stating that they are raising money to donate to a charity that helps children in India. I later learned that one of the accordion players was the wife of the man who drives my choir carpool.

It was quite cold out, and standing in the sun made a big difference. Customers noticed this as well, and once again dragged the tables and chairs into the sun, where I usually set up. I set up there anyway, with my back to them, but business didn't pick up and I had the added challenge of the sun being in my eyes. I finally moved across the street where I was at least facing the crowd, but it was quite cold in the shade. I've got to stock up on thermals to busk my way through Europe as it just gets colder and darker! Luckily, not a whole lot happened Saturday so this should be quick.

Saturday, 22 September, 2012, Part I

1. I met a really nice American guy about my age. I'd seen him before, but today we had a nice talk. I'm only including this because it was a good reminder that there are cool people in America. I can find a nice community closer to home with interesting young people.

2. This was especially nice after this American lady came up and, without even saying hello (something I've noticed Americans do) just asked “What did you study?” When I answered that and her follow-up questions she sort of did that rolling-eyes looking-down expression of disgust and left without further salutations. That's what I DON'T want to go back to!

3. I've mentioned this regular guy with long dyed orange hair who always seemed to walk by during “The Final Countdown.” I just like that I now have a friendly banter with him and his partner and dog, regarding whether or not they come during the aforementioned song. Today, they walked by during my tamest most accordion-friendly songs, and we joked about that, that his timing was off. Going to miss the characters of Edinburgh.

4. Part of the winter routine is blowing on my fingers a lot both to warm them up and increase my appearance of suffering to therefore increase tips, and it totally worked. I was set up across from the coffee box, and one older man kept looking back (I assume in disgust if it's someone of an age to be familiar with proper accordion music) and saw me do my hand-warming routine a few times. Finally, he came over and handed me a cup of coffee, saying, “Something to warm your hands!” Isn't that nice?

5. Jan the German accordion player who has been there before came by, but without his kit. I asked if he was playing and he said he was not because he had gotten “a little too hammered” the night before. His word choice along with his accent made me smile. But...he was in luck because I don't have caffeine anymore (well definitely not coffee), so although I appreciated the older man's generous donation of coffee, it would go un-drunk if left with me. So I gave it to Jan.

I didn't pack a lunch today, planning to get something at the market. However, despite it being a slow day, everything was sold out. No burgers, no hog rolls, no haggis, no soup.

And so I went to the Mile for part two. I began at McGregor's, but it was quite slow and I was cold. Eventually Charlie Chaplin picked up so I set up at my old favorite spot.

September 22, Part II

1. A middle-aged man tipped, winked, and cheerfully said, “Sounds like a tune anyway!” Well that's good!

2. Scottish-dressed people continued to roam around post-march, and a group of three young men stopped in the chip shop across from me. I took this as a cue to play Flower of Scotland, but they didn't notice. But then when I was packing up, one of them came over and asked where I was going, saying that he had liked it. We discussed the march, and he said there had been 15,000 people there. He was drinking an Irn Bru and his lips were bright orange. That is all.

3. An older American man, from New York, stopped to talk. He asked me how to get to a restaurant, so I directed him, and he asked me to play a nice song. “Werewolves of London” was next on the list, but it wasn't excessively “nice,” so I skipped it and played the beginning of “Fly Me To the Moon.” His expression indicated it wasn't nice enough, so I stopped and asked what he'd like to hear. “Something folky.” I began an Irish folk song. Nope. “Clancy brothers.” Couldn't help him with that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. “Now I'll need you to help me with this. What's this one?” he asked. “That's a pound.” I resisted adding, “That's the one I want.” He picked up another, a US quarter. He said something like, “As much as I like it...” and threw in the quarter. Not to be ungrateful, but US currency is just extra weight to send home, and the restaurant he was headed to was quite expensive, and he had taken quite a bit of my time. Hey, better than getting 2p!

4. Another man must have heard me speaking American, and gave me two US dollars. That's actually good, both because it's generous and because I'm really going to want a bagel at Boston Logan Airport when I arrive, but I'll have no local currency!

5. I'm having trouble with one circle-show guy called Stickman. He's a kind-hearted Canadian with dramatic looking long hair and facial hair and cowboy hat. He's a pro busker and has done it all over the world. He is super nice in person, but he's difficult as a street performer. He came for the Fringe then decided to stay.

Specifically, he's loud. Hogs the air space. Most of the circle lads play a song as they set up, but the speakers face the side of the road and it's usually at a reasonable enough volume to play over. If not, no biggie, I can wait two minutes. Stickman, however, faces his speakers up the mile, so the sound travels far. He plays two songs as he sets up, and at least two more during the show (a fact that he denied when I mentioned it). He also does a bit with a chain saw. I'm not the only one lamenting his volume. Apparently the traders have had to talk to him as well, and sources say he's been causing similar trouble for fifteen years. You'd think he'd figure out by now how to do a show without upsetting so many people!

On this day, I saw him getting ready to set up, so I asked if he would please keep the volume down. He defensively said, “I turned it down last time you asked!” Okay, well not enough. He said he would, but just didn't, so as he was setting up I left my stuff unattended to run down there, and, in front of his budding crowd, ask him to please turn it down again, citing the fact that I had made no money that day. He did, but of course not by enough. I planned this great dramatic speech to deliver afterwards, but then finally I didn't want to deal with it so I let him win and packed up. Yet another reason it's okay that I'm leaving.

6. As I was grumpily packing up, cold, hungry, poor and angry, a vendor stopped by. She noticed that I had played “I've Just Seen a Face,” and said that she loves that song. She additionally beat me to the punch in saying that nobody knows it, which is so true. “I mean, it's the Beatles!” I was happy to hear this because I had technically decided to retire this song, due to its lack of response here, but I'll keep it going for the rare few who know it. This woman was super nice in general, Gemma. Sells jewelry.

The end.