The bus to London was leaving at 2am and my final night in Liverpool before I left for South America reminded me of every time I leave Amsterdam. She always looks her most beautiful. The sun always shines on her, and she glows Golden, her bridges and Canals sometimes seem dreamlike. Liverpool shines in a different way; it’s the music of the city that gives her that sparkle. My last night was no different. My friend Louisa was releasing her first solo E.P at El Bandito and it was a lovely gathering of musicians, friends and a great atmosphere. She is such a talented Singer, songwriter and musician and she played a beautiful set of songs. Playing also was Philly Moore from Raw City, I had the pleasure of recording his bands new E.P the weekend before and I love them boys. It´s not a bunch of super talented musicians that make a great band, it´s a bunch of great mates, and they are a big cut above the other bands of great mates in the city that there are so many of. Some of my best musical memories are my band days with White Trash ana Halfcast and The Dawn Fanfare, rehearsing in Crash, so loud that our ears rung and almost bled. But being with your mates in a band, writing songs, smoking weed, playing gigs for peanuts, moving the gear all over town is a great feeling, and recording them boys, going to their practices, smoking a joint and drinking a beer reminded me of those good days. Though, I did have to put my fingers in my ears at some points, because it was so loud.
I had my suitcase and guitar with me, and after the show I popped over to the Mello to say a farewell. Adam was working behind the bar, and he is one of the most inspiring musicians and songwriters I have ever known. He has the most humble calm heart and is just a beautiful soul in this world. There are people in this world who inspire me greatly and Adam is one of them. He has a folk album inside him that will change and shape and influence people one day. I would love to record it. He got me a drink, a good big hug and tells me the open mic is on tonight. There is still a bit of time left if I want to play. It´s hosted by Ron Entwistle a legendary scouse poet, who, even if you bump into him on the streets, he will recite you one of his poems about the latest news and issues of the week. Playing was a very funny act. It was an old guy with a face of leather, playing (at least trying to) Dylans ´I Want You´ I say trying to, because as he was half way through mumbling out the words, with a scratching weak electric guitar sound and then half way through stopped and said ´Oh Damn, I can’t do it´. After him I got up and played 3 songs, and they went down well to the handful of people in there. I think I did good, because when I finished I Heard someone say ´How can we follow that? ´.
My mates from El Bandito came to the Mello not long after that, and we enjoyed a few drinks and a good chat till it was closing. I still had 2 hours left until my bus, so I went with Jimmy and Sophie to Sound and Music, a new venue just opening up in town. I remember I was always worried because so many music venues were closing down in town. But for every one that closes another 2 opens. That is the power of the music in Liverpool. You can take away the venues, but never the musicians. My mate Pete tells me also that in the backroom of a Pizza Shop they are having live music every week now! A pizza place! How beautiful. My mates got a taxi home and I still had an hour to go before my bus, so I walked past the BBC radio station where I used to work to see if Tommy was in for a brew, I think he was sleeping so I walked past a few of the night clubs and went into Cava for a pint. There was this guy playing the acoustic guitar. He was brilliant. Finger picking funk, and tapping the guitar for drums while singing. Not one person was listening, and I sat right in front and listened to every note and Word. It reminded me of those few gigs I played in Liverpool the last month where people weren’t listening and I would get angry, call them cunts, not resolve the songs on the right chords and generally do anything to get their attention. And here was this guy with amazing ability, just happily playing to himself. I shook his hand, wished him the best of luck and went to get my bus to start the biggest journey of my life.
On the bus I smiled as I thought of how great a musical city it is. I took it for granted before I ever left Liverpool for the first time. I thought you would find this everywhere. Then when I got to Paris, expecting it to have even more music than Liverpool, to find 2 open mic nights, 1 accordion busker, and not even a grain of the musical infrastructure Liverpool has. It took me a few months away to understand what makes it so great a city. And my last night, she shone for me in her unmatched, bright musical colours. There are so many rules for busking in Europe, and even the rest of England. But in Liverpool, you pick a spot and play as loud as you want for as long as you want, whenever you want. Viva la Musica of Liverpool!
With a good few pints inside me I slept easy on the bus. We had to change in Manchester, so we went from an empty bus to a full bus. But it wasn’t so bad. I am so used to the Megabus´ now, that my body knows what to expect. I just wish I could have found my travel Pillow! We got to London at 8 in the morning and, slightly hungover, I did my usual walk around Victoria. I like London more and more each time I go. I used to hate the place, because of the North South divide. But now it grows on me more and more. I walked past Buckingham palace for my usual spit on the Queens doorstep and went and had me a full English Breakfast. I had a few hours to kill before I took the train to Heathrow, I smoked a few cigarettes and kept building myself up in my mind for what I was doing. First I take a flight to Rome, then from there wait a few hours and then take a flight to Buenos Aires. From there find a bus to the other airport and take a flight to Salta where I would meet Nizha and drive 300 Km north into the mountains. It was a big journey, but I felt strong and ready.
After a few hours waiting in Heathrow I checked in for Rome. The woman who was checking boarding passes was a bit concerned I had no return ticket, but I told her my Girlfriend was waiting for me there, and we would travel South America. She stamped my ticket and let me board the plane. As I was putting my bags in, I asked the girls at the desk if I could keep my guitar with me, as she was delicate. They were a bit unsympathising, but a few winks and smiles they smiled back and let me take my guitar with me. It was when they said that my suitcase would go straight to Buenos Aires that I felt the first wave of the reality hit me. Before I was leaving Nizha told me to look after my stuff really well, as the thieves in Argentina are professional. That made me a bit worried, but then I thought, so what. Even if they rob my suitcase, it’s only books and socks and clothes. Even if they rob my guitar, I could get another one for sure here. Once I let go of possessing my possesions, I felt free and fearless.
People who work in airports seem so tired and unhappy with life. I never met one face who seemed full of life and happiness there. The atmosphere is so dank, and gloomy. People just wishing time will pass. They make you wait hours in that place. I think in this entire journey, I did more waiting than travelling. You just people watch, you listen to the voices and sounds around you. You drink so much coffee, smoke so many cigarettes, and just watch and wait for every minute to pass. Then flight to Rome was nice, I had a window seat, but couldn’t keep my eyes open. I just slept the whole way there. Once in the Roman airport I had 3 hours to kill. I just walked up and down for ages, hoping to find somewhere to have a smoke. I tried to change 10 dollars into euroes, as the idea of a beer made my mouth water. The least they would change was 50 dollars though. I wasn’t doing that. When busking in Liverpool I had been given a 2 euro coin, I used it as my lucky coin and took it with me on my journey. I used to to buy a bottle of water in the airport, as it was all I could afford. About half an hour before we were ready to board, I saw a sign that said smoking area. I ran with all excitement to it! I was gasping! I got in there and smoked 3 in a row. Ahhhhh. A non-smoker will never know that feeling. It was also close to where I was boarding to Buenos Aires, so after my cigs I dashed to the gate.
I got on the plane with no difficulty, and I was the only Englishman in sight. It was full of Spanish and Italians, and I wasn’t getting a word of it. People looked at me funny, my odd socks, bracers and bright blue eyes. But I still felt good and strong. The plane was massive. It seated ten in a row, and had 3 carriages. We could watch a movie on a little screen. They brought you a few drinks, a dinner, a breakfast and were so nice. They still had that airline look in their eyes though, but it was a very comfortable journey. I watched 12 monkeys on the video screen, and did a lot of sleeping. There was this beautiful young girl sitting on the seats next to me. She kept looking at me and smiling. She asked if I spoke Spanish, I said, errrr a little bit. She laughed and we chatted a little bit. It was sunrise and we were passing over Brasil, I opened my eyes and this beautiful red morning sun broke through all the windows. It was the most beautiful site I had seen. After coming from a cold January in England, to feel that golden red sun was immense. The pilot told us we would be approaching Buenos Aires soon and it was 23degrees, and raining. The plane started its descent with lots of turbulence, we landed good and safe, and everyone on the plane cheered and shouted Bravo! It was a nice moment that.
I stepped off the plane in this strange new world, into an airport that could be anywhere in the world. No matter where you are, airports are all the same, with the same atmosphere. Like supermarkets, no? I was hoping my bag made it here, but before I could check, I had to go to the immigration desk and give them my thumb print, and my picture. Tell them why I was here, and what my plans were. They seemed nice though, and let me go through. I found the bagging belt, and found my bag. Success! I had made it all the way here, with all my belongings in one piece. Now it was time for part 2 of the journey. I found a bus that would take me to the other airport, I paid in dollars and went to find where I had to wait. I was outside having a ciggie, and this family was there. The mother was smoking, and coughing like something serious was wrong. Her son was rubbing her back, and patting her, with eyes of worry, like only a child can sense. I don´t know why this sticks with me so much. I threw away my cigarette and went and found the bus. It was raining thick drops of rain, but still so warm. It was a weird sensation. I got on the bus and we made the hour journey to the other airport.
The bus started and we made our way. The first thing that hit me, is that the trees looked so sad, and in pain. They were all hanging down with big holes in them with big puddles and flooding rain in the grass surrounding them. Palm trees that looked ill, discoloured. We drove past buildings that were destroyed by lack of funds and work to fix them. But still people lived in them. But there were lots of buildings that were just rubble, half finished, or half destroyed. The roads were full of old cars like you see in the movies, but with lots of new cars as well. It´s like you could really see the divide. Old vans with 5 people sitting in the back of them next to a brand new 4x4. The billboards and advertising were all for McDonalds, Coca Cola, Cars, and all western influence it seemed. Still the trees seemed so sad. I got off the bus when everyone else did, thinking it was the aeroparque. But it wasn’t. I asked, and he said next stop. I wonder how many people got off thinking it was the airport. I jumped back on just in time, and got to the airport. I had 4 hours to wait until my plane, so as usual I just walked up and down. I changed some dollars into Pesos and ate a salad, drunk a coffee and smoked way too many cigarettes.
Because I had so much time to kill, I walked round outside. It was right next to the sea. There was a young lad fishing there. He had caught a big fish, and was cutting it open, gutting it, and washing it in a puddle of rain water. I bought some agua, and watched the sea. It seemed so dirty. There was a half sunken ship just in front, and some oil rigs or sea ports a bit further on. I went back to the airport to check my flight, and it was delayed by 2 hours. I really needed a beer, I asked at the Airport and they tell me 52 pesos for a small bottle of Stella. I just couldn’t allow myself to buy it. I walked out a little further this time; I found a little meat bar that sold cervezas. It was only 32 Pesos for a massive 1 litre bottle. I sat and drunk it with a smile and automatically felt better. I had an out loud conversation with myself, with what I would say to Nizha, enjoyed my beer, checked the time at the airport, and still had another hour. So I drunk another cerveza at the same place, and had a gorgeous meat sandwhich. I went back, slightly drunk and checked in for my flight. The people at the airport were so nice. I got to my gate, and then the plane gets delayed another 2 hours!!!
This hit me hard. All this waiting really drains you. Plus, I had 2 litres of beer inside me, and now couldn’t smoke. I just watched every minute pass feeling rougher and rougher. The plane finally came; I got on it and took the last step to getting to Nizha. The flight was nice, I had a window seat, and they gave us free coffee and sweets as well as the comedic demonstration on what to do in case of a crash landing. I get to Salta, find my bag, step outside and hear ´Babe´ in that voice I have only heard in my memories for the last 3 months. There was my Nizha, looking radiantly golden brown, her hair a little longer, her smile still so full of love and passion. After 3 months of wanting nothing else, we were finally in eachothers arms……….
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