Hamburger, again.

Three gigs in one day, but we can't get to even the first one, where we're supposed to be, any minute now, because we can't figure out how to get off this boat and the owners are sleeping and we don't want to be rude because they're really nice and letting us stay on their boat and all but, um, how do we get off the boat we can't get off the boat without swimming or jumping really far and accurately.

And then a record shop gig, (nice, the one that posted that youtube movie), and then a cafe gig (super nice, they gave me a wind-up dinosaur), and then a bar gig (nice-ish. They asked the foosball players to stop playing foosball during the gig) and then, thank goodness, no more singing for a bit, just some sleeping back at the cafe, a makeshift cafe-couch bed is good enough for me.

It was a riot: Germany day 3

Run Log: The first of this mini bit of blog about the German tour runs. Running in Berlin along the line of the old wall is surprisingly beautiful. Fascinating, resonant, and flat.

After a breakfast buffet that included prosecco (naturally), we head from Berlin to Hamburg. Hamburg, Germany's Bristol. Nitty. Gritty. The big Port town with all the art leaking from its oily underbelly. If Berlin is hip, Hamburg is authentic. Like that. The gig tonight is at the Mobile Blues Club. A giant trailer that's been converted to a bar and venue.

Except, that, unfortunately, a wall of armoured vehicles and hundreds, yep, hundreds, of riot-squad officers in full kit between the venue and anyone wanted to get to the venue meant that, unfortunately, the gig was cancelled. Ladies and Gentlemen, it's May day in Germany, and our little venue was right at the heart of it.


Really, it was all very well-behaved. A thousand or so kids in hoodies half-shouting speeches, followed by polite clapping and the occasional whoop. A german anarchist rap. A crushingly intimidating over-presence of police. And us, standing to the side, waiting until it was done with so the four tanks blocking in our tiny rental car could let us out.

Also: This night we slept on a boat. There was no water or electricity, so you had to pee over the side, in the dark, which was a bit frightening at night.

berlin, day 2.

Daytime: It's nice out, so there are large swaths of naked men sun-bathing in the Berlin city parks. I'm sure there must also be women's and/or a 'family' zones, but all we see is the men. We jog casually past. They casually ignore us.

Night-time: A gig at a soup-club. Yep, soup. It's called 'intersoup' and, man, they sure do make great soup. I had Thai coconut curry with noodles and tofu. Maybe not traditional German, but awfully good for rider food. The gig is nice too. I go on stage and there are three people in the crowd (one nice guy with his parents, who are visiting for the weekend), I start playing and Boom! The place is full. Magic German crowds. I love them. And their soup.

The Waitress goes German: Day 1

Yes, yes, I've been to Germany before. Yes, I've toured Germany for music before. But. I've never ever done that, or anything like that, with my new(ish) solo act The Waitress For the Bees. Just me! All by myself! Saying things like, "Ich bin The Waitress for the Bees." And "Diese liede heisse Diplodacus".

Well, just me, and Charlie, who, as sound-tech, driver, manager, coach and hunter-gatherer, was also quite a bit there and quite a bit important.

Day one: Bristol-Berlin.

We flew easyjet out of Bristol airport on the day of the Royal Wedding. Easyjet did not seem to care. The crowds and crowds of people dressed in red, white, and blue (but not the American way) we passed on our way to the station all did seem to care. Despite this, easyjet was surprisingly great. I think they've decided, "yea, we're a budget airline, but, still, we're not Ryanair. Let's never be Ryanair." and, as such, we were both able to bring one carry on and one instrument (me: viola, Charlie: ukulele with a secret glock-and-shaker-egg-combo hiding with it) on board with no hassle at all, except for the check-in woman not knowing what a ukulele was, and being rather confused about this concept of an instrument she'd not heard of, until we told her it was a very small guitar (with two missing strings), and she was fine.

And then, Berlin. Berlin! We picked up the rental car the tour-booker arranged for us at the airport, providing the agent with credit cards, driver's lincenses, and "Autograms" as required, and zoomed into (okay, crawled very cautiously and with little idea where to go) the center of town, to the first gig.

Gelegenheiten means something like "opportunities" in German, and it was a fitting name for this, the first venue. It wasn't really a bar or a venue or a cafe so much as a small empty space. It looked like it might once have been a shop*. There wasn't any sign that we could see, and there certainly weren't any posters or anything like that announcing gigs or inhabitation of any kind. But, the Germans are amazing and have a secret sense for finding and joyfully attending any kind of live music event, especially foreign ones. I was tired-ish, and the set was far from polished, but everybody listened and everybody was happy and the bass player for the other band looked like my second-cousin Tammy, and some Italian friends I only knew from facebook turned up, so Gelegenheiten prevailed. Thanks Berlin, for that (and for your falafels). So far I like you (but don't get too excited).

*A little bit of post-writing-this research reveals that it was, in fact, an old butcher shop.