Just kidding. It's nothing like Arizona here.
As I stepped off the 109 bus from Palmovka it felt like an old man was humbly chuckling right in my face. Not a total slap in the ass, but nothing all that comforting. All I could see were fields of long wild grass and some dirt and some pavement. Nothing that resembled the type of music festival I was used to in the states. Usually there were hippies and a Walmart and a lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana. I didn't even hear a drum beat, which is usually the best indication of something musical happening.
"Kde je festival?" I asked the overalled gas station attendant across the street. "Kakoi festival?" he said. Which festival? I don't know, the one that's supposed to be right off the god damn bus stop you idiot. He and his redneck friends quickly realized I didn't speak Czech, nor had I ever been anywhere outside of Prague. They started pointing in different directions and talking over each other until finally the one sitting down, who I trusted because he spoke softly and didn't get too excited, pointed and said to go straight and then right. Sweet, I understood that. I was silently thanking my brain for retaining some of the Czech nonsense I had learned at 10 in the morning for 5 days straight 2 weeks before.
So I was off, hand in hand with my roommate who was clearly regretting getting on that bus with me. It was clearly a residential neighborhood and there were no indications of any kind of festival going on here. Luckily, my idea to follow several CAMPING signs was a good one, and I finally began to see some dredlocked hippies in front of us. I wished that I had dredlocks or hadn't showered that day or wasn't dressed in such a bright colored shirt. Then maybe I wouldn't look so American and people would stop staring at me. I KNOW I am out of place here damnit leave me alone.
And then we heard it... the drum beat! Although it wasn't a drum beat, it was something else. A trash can beat! A good sign nevertheless. We walked through an iron gate and into a wide open park, across a bridge and into a circus tent. Ahh pivo (beer). And vino (wine). One glass of red wine cost about a dollar. Two glasses later the band I came to see had finally started and I was feeling much more comfortable, awake, and so excited about seeing my bald headed teacher get on stage with a guitar. He speaks slowly and often without purpose in class, so I wondered if he would like many quiet musicians I know. They generally are able to open up as soon as they pick up their instrument and step onto the stage. Unfortunately Jan was not one of those types, as he played supporting guitar and stood way off to the right and sort of in the back. He looked the same as he did in class, except his head was bouncing up and down with the beat of the drum set and he kept his mouth shut. Besides his small presence on stage, I also noticed the lead singer did not come up to the microphone without a cigarette between his fingers. He also seemed shy and would only stick his neck out to reach the microphone rather than walking straight up to it. Maybe it was so that he was far enough away to take drags between verses, or maybe they were just a bunch of dorky old guys who happened to know how to make good music.After the first half hour of standing on the top floor of the warehouse/gutted church/crumbling haunted house where Garage was playing, the random mush of food in the plastic bowls that everyone was carrying around looked really good. So we spent about 3 dollars and got a bowl full of Indian inspired deliciousness and a crunchy circle thing that resembled a potato latke, but filled with spices and other yummy things. We didn't ask what we were eating, we just pointed to what looked good, similar to the little vegetarian Indian shops on 1st street. It was no doubt one of the best meals I've had since I've been here in Prague, and I'll probably never know what it actually was. Sad.
Now we were downstairs with all the hippies and the dogs. They were allowed everywhere and rarely had leashes. (am I talking about the hippies or the dogs? you can decide for yourself) One of them was so horny he kept mounting every dog he could get his paws on. I was trying not to get caught in the crossfire so I stayed close to the stage, closed my eyes and tried to make up the words as they sang in Czech. Though they weren't necessarily the best performers I've ever seen, the lead guitarist had some amazing solos, and the saxophonist reminded me of the one from O.A.R. I loved that he played
in almost every song, and when he wasn't playing was rocking back and forth with his sax, which he held like a woman.Before long everyone was dancing, or at least bobbing their heads and swaying back and forth. I was in the front with my camera in one hand and pivo in the other staring at the bass player who was quite cute. Pathetic that I'm now thinking 40-something men are 'cute,' but that's what happens they pick up their guitars and start rocking out.
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