Les said, the better II

probably. By the time the blood test comes back, I’ll have taken all the antibiotics. But this explains why I was feeling crappy all weekend.

I will detail my experiences in case anyone wonders what happens when you go to the hospital in France.
In america, there are sprawling medical complexes located around hospitals. These are doctors offices (sometimes called “private practices”) where you can go to get specific problems treated. France is much more centralized, as far as I can tell. There are many specialist offices located within hospitals and even (relatively) minor outpatient surgery is done in the hospital.
So I went today to the hospital, walked in the front door and went to the accueil, explained that I was a clueless foreigner and asked where I should go. She directed me to the dermatology department, so I went there and got in the queue for people without appointments. They do patient intakes at 8 AM and 1 PM and they take a set number of patients at each time. First I talked with somebody who verified that I was in the right place. She penciled in a couple of forms. The next person I spoke with entered that data into the computer. She gave me a bunch of barcode stickers with my name on them and told me to keep them. Then she sent me to the waiting room for walk-ins.
It was a long, long wait. It smelled of hospital and it was hot. They broke out a small fan to blow at us. A toddler kept kicking my chair, but he was cute and singing as he did it, so I didn’t mind. It was like baby performance art.
Finally, somebody called my name. She asked many questions, did doctorly things and wrote prescriptions. Then a nurse walked me over to the blood department. I waited again and then two women joked amongst themselves, took some blood, and collected some data from me about where I was hiking and when I got bit. I suspect this data will be used for disease tracking purposes. Then they gave me another form and told me to go pay.
The payment system normally goes on a take-a-number system, but there was a sign on the machine saying they were done with numbers for the day. So after they called the last number, those of us remaining queued up to pay.
I have no idea how they will alert me to my test results. I intend to ask Solène when she gets back. I also don’t know how long I can expect have this annoying rash on my leg. I figure, though, even if it’s not lyme, oral antibiotics will kill it. I feel zen now so comment away. Well, zen and kinda like I’m a bit, you know, sick. 100mg of doxycycline twice a day. When I feel energetic, I’ll look up how closely this meshes with what would be prescribed in the US. Here, they usually give something else, but I have a possible penicillin allergy. The doctor that I saw in Den Haag said “This is not lyme disease,” but there’s no reason to believe I couldn’t have gotten an infection AND a lyme rash later.
Tags: Lyme, Paris, Celesteh

One of the things that Catholics believe is that you can ask saints for stuff. They’re buddies with God, so they try to work something out on you behalf. Certain saints handle certain types of requests. For example, St John the Baptist, who got beheaded is the guy to go to for headaches. The Virgin Mary is the go-to for absolutely everything, since she’s got the closest relationship. There are spheres of influence and specialists for certain things.
You can also go to your own relatives, if you’re pretty sure they’re in heaven. I think the idea here is that God is too busy to do anything for you directly. But then the Virgin Mary would be just as busy, if not more so, with all those Rosaries that everybody prays. So your own relatives might not have a lot of influence, but at least they have time.

The first problem is that they might be in purgatory. You can’t go to heaven unless you’ve pennanced away all of your sins, or never sinned or got baptised right before death (since baptism wipes away all sins without need for pennance). If you died and you’ve repented you sins but not done enough penance, you go to purgatory where you suffer like hell until you’ve atoned for your wrong doing. Fortunately, you living family members can help you out by praying to get you out of purgatory. Let me tell you, it’s not comforting sitting at your grandmother’s funeral when everybody including the priest assumes she’s currently burning for her sins.
However, I have some relatives who were (unofficially, of course) proclaimed to be saints upon their passing. One of these was my cousin who didn’t die too long ago. She was a nun and a scientist and she did groundbreaking research on ticks. Yesterday, my infection was getting smaller and I didn’t want to have to go to a hospital today (it’s hard to just walk into a GP office here. The one I went to in the Winter didn’t even have a receptionist. A machine answered the phone.).
All of the other nuns and several other folks were convinced of my cousin’s sainthood. I could ask her for help without having to worry about whether she’s in purgatory (and not feel guilty for not praying her out of it – sorry mom). And talk about a perfect match for a tick-related woe!
So I asked her (and her brother for good measure) to please ask around on my behalf and it would be really great if when I woke up in the morning, the infection would just be gone. It would be totally awesome and not completely improbable, so c’mon, help your cousin out.
When I woke up this morning, it was larger and more inflamed than ever. I’m pissed off. I went to visit her in the old folks home, I spoke at her funeral. I mean, if it were the same size, that would be one thing, but it’s actually bigger. I can’t remember if I also asked her for help getting into Berkeley. Maybe that’s why I got rejected. Thanks for nothing!
Ok, ok, it’s not fair. It’s not even rational. Sometimes I think misdirected anger isn’t all bad. Next time I’ll try St Jude, the patron saint of lost causes.
Tag: Celesteh

saturday

Today was Vélorution, but I dropped out after only a few minutes because I was feeling crappy. I’ve been kinda having a few issues with anxiety lately. I think it might be a bad idea to not eat, take a xanax and then try to go biking in the heat. This is kinda sad because it’s the last one for me before I leave, but I’m glad to not be biking right now.

The red area on my leg where I got bit is bigger and a bit painful, so I just went to talk to a pharmacist. French pharmacists are actually incredibly helpful. He looked at my leg and gave me some anitsceptic pain killer stuff and told me to see a doctor if it’s still red on monday. So I’m going to be in Paris until monday probably, unless my leg unreddens. I asked about feeling bleah and he blamed the heat. I blame being homesick.

sunday

All winter my apartment was freezing and i kept thinking how nice it’s coolness would be in the summer. ha ha. In other news, I got email from my brother today inviting me to his wedding.
Wedding?? I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend, let alone a fiancée. I know absolutely nothing except the date they plan to tie the knot and that they plan a bbq. He didn’t mention her name or anything in the email.
As I wrote back, I realized that he wasn’t sure about what country I was in, nor knew anything about my plans for next year. So it’s not just him, it’s me too.
And finally: I know hearing about other people’s disgusting medical issues is so much fun that people use it as a metaphor for other terrible conversations, but my leg hurts less today but is still red as hell. So likely trip to doctor or hospital tomorrow. (Hospitals here are also clinics and can be just a way to get to see a doctor that day.) I want to go to Berlin and Brittany (and play a concert in Karlsruhe on July 11th) and squeeze in a couple of days in Alsace all before Bastille day, but I don’t know how I’ll have time. Why before Bastille Day? Because I’d like to see it and because Brother Bob (“brother” as in title, not as in same parents) flies in the next day! Yay.
Tag: Celesteh

Today

I got back to Paris yesterday. I’ve been spending most of my time sleeping, as I hadn’t been doing much of it for the last week. I also spent part of today writing music for my August 3rd gig at the Luggage Store Gallery in San Francisco. While I was in the Hague, I went to two of the Sonology final exams. These are concerts, because it’s the conservatory. The last piece on Wednesday night was exceedingly stressful sounding and went on for quite a long time, I think around 17 minutes. t changed very slowly to my ears as it went, but I think by the end, it was less stressed than at the beginning. I felt less stressed than when I went in. Judging by their music, the Sonology students are an angsty lot. I should fit right in. Anyway, somehow, after 17 minutes of stressful music with a possibly calmer ending, I found myself feeling relaxed. So I thought I could write something similarly calming, which I’ll call “Music for Panic Attacks.” I can’t tell if I’ve got the end right because the middle part feels like ball peen hammers pounding on my spine and I had to walk away from it for a while. Um, anyway, you all should come to the concert and I won’t play it unless it actually has a relaxing ending. Otherwise, it’s like some of my political music from last year. I seem to want to write stuff that kind of hurts people. Sorry. Anyway, 32 bit float distortion of high pitches is a lovely way to introduce piercing stress into any piece.

Monday

So upon my arrival in Den Haag, I went right to Sonology where I had no appointment and nobody was there. I emailed a prof who said they were giving final exams and I should come to those. I spent much of the rest of my day wandering the streets of Den Haag. Everything closes on Monday. Everything closes at 5:00. On the other hand, everything is open on Sunday. The next day, my host (actually the host of Cola and I, since we were both there) took us to try the new herring.

Tuesday

Herring

In the middle ages, herring was mostly caught in the North Sea and sent down the Rhine river to Cologne, where it was graded and packed into barrels with salt. From there, trade associations shipped the barrels all over Europe. The Cologne stamp indicated it’s quality. Thus because of trade along the Rhine, and especially fish trade, Cologne was the most important city in what is now Germany. This according to the woman who ironed my hankerchiefs in Cologne and I can think of no greater authority.
Um, anyway, apparently the annual catch of herring is usually in the Spring, but this year it was delayed and the new herring has just arrived. What perfect timing! I did not sample the herring, but Nicole did. When I explained to Sasha that I was a vegetarian and thus would not try the fish, he said, “oh, you’re lucky” with genuine envy or a very very dry delivery.
The herring came on a hotdog bun, covered in onions. To get the taste out of his mouth, he went to get something called “karne milk” (or something similar). It’s basically sour milk. So apparently if you start every morning with a raw fish on a bun covered in raw onions followed by a sour milk chaser, you’d better hope the worst of your day is over.

the North Sea

Cola and I decided to go see the North Sea. He suggested it was not a proper beach and we should got to Delft instead. He also left us the keys and said he was going to Paris. Despite his advice, we persisted in our plans and rode the tram out to the end of the line at the sea.
It’s not overly obvious at the end of the tram line and so not disconcerting, but in the Netherlands, the sea is higher than the country. So you walk up a big sand dune and down a much smaller slope to get to the ocean. It was lovely. Sandy. Full of sea shells. Cold water. Reminded me of Santa Cruz. We walked for a long while along the beach and then turned to the marshes inland. It was not a long walk before we were out of sight and sound of human activity. It maybe took half an hour in all, counting the tram line. Twice away from a city in a short period of time. I’ll get spoiled. We walked for several kilometers and then took Sasha’s advice and rode the tram to Delft.

Delft

You know those white tiles with blue pictures of windmills or boys peeing that middle class americans use as bathroom decorations? Those are all (in concept at least) from Delft. It has old brick buildings, and squares and canals and churches and probably windmills and many many stores selling white tiles with blue pictures of boys peeing onto windmills to tourists, but all of them closed at 5:00. We got dinner and then rode the trolley back to Den Haag to go a final exam.

Final Exams

Because I’m going to the school next year and my ignorance of possible political consequences, I want to be vague about the concerts. Every piece had good moments. Many went on a bit too long (which is normal for student concerts). The first piece of the first concert however, was extremely brilliant. It was called Contact by Jeroen Liebregts. The composer built this thing with florescent bulbs in it, or rather those long buzzy beams that you see in offices and classrooms. All of his beams were near death and thus very buzzy. He attached contact mics to the beams and amplified and filtered them. His piece was a liver realization as the computer stepped through different combinations of filters and on and off lights. The connection between the visual and the sonic was strongly evident. The visual was fascinating, but not overly in front. It was extremely excellent.
As I was putting on my hat to leave after the concert, a person said, “Are you Celeste?” It was only the second time I’ve been recognized from the internet and the first time was Sophie’s ex-girlfriend, which is not exactly from the internets.
Sergio actually recognized me from the weird picture in the corner of my blog. He left a comment a few weeks ago telling me to try PitchShift for my recorder project. Whoah.
I went home and discovered my leg was red and swelling up and became alarmed and blogged. In the morning, I sought aid and then got on a train to Amsterdam. It is less than an hour train ride from Den Haag to Amsterdam and the ticket prices are not high, although many of the tourists are.

Wednesday

Amsterdam

Cola and I went to see the Homomonument. It’s a series of three pink (marble?) triangles embedded into a square near the Anne Frank House. The triangles remember queer victims of the holocaust and other violence past, present and future. As far as I know, it was the first such monument in the world.
The square was full of women in couples, looking at the monument. I realized that a lot of queer women outside of France are much more easily identifiable. They may be more out, or I may not understand French social cues. It is really a relief though, walking down the street and seeing other queers.
The last time I was in Amsterdam was 5 years ago. I got the best haircut of my life in a gay leather hair salon that had several larger-than-life statues of Tom of Finland Characters. There was a sign on the door that said “men only,” but I didn’t see it until I left.
I found the same salon again, although now there is just one Tom of Finland statue. I got a damn good haircut. Finding the same salon was almost as surprising as being recognized from the blog.
Hopped on a train again. Saw more concerts. Went to “coffee shop.” Got home. Nicole began consuming recently purchased item while I checked my email and became very alarmed at a comment on my blog. Took a xanax. Blogged again before it worked (I should not do that).

Honey, I’m Home

The door of the flat opened and Sasha’s husband announced he was home early form his trip to Berlin. We must have looked startled as Nicole was freshly high and I was waiting for the xanax to work.
Yeah, anyway, I calmed down and Nicole sobered up and we had a long and charming chat with him about his days working at Apple in Cupertino. Remember the protest when Apple killed the Newton? (yes you do, you big geek.) He was the guy whose picture you remember from the Mercury News story covering the event. (When is Apple going to bring back the Newton? Never. Alas.)

Thursday

The next morning, we got on a train to Paris and then went to Solène’s concert in the evening, which was perfectly lovely. Her father was there, but she didn’t introduce me for some reason.
You are now up to date on my recent activities, although I still have not blogged everything about Germany because I wasted most of my blogging time being worried about tick diseases. To find out what Sarah Dotie would do, I sent her email and learned that she has had more than three thousand ticks attached to her person at one time. I’m thinking perhaps my WWSDD approach should not be followed 100% of the time.
Tags: Den Haag, Celesteh

Please nobody comment to any of my tick posts because the comments give me panic attacks.

Ok, so I went to a pharmacy this morning and explained my issue. The sent me to a doctor. The doctor looked at my bite and said it was infected and gave me antibiotic cream. There was a bit of a language issue. He said not to worry about lyme disease, since it’s not really in Germany, more in the Czech republic. I asked about the mysterious German disease and he had apparently no idea what I was talking about. If this disease was common and cause for alarm, I think a doctor in den Haag would know what I was talking about. I asked if there was any tick left in my leg, he said he didn’t see any and told me not to worry about it.
I had been more or less successfully not worrying about it until I read a comment to my last post which said I should go make a doctor pick the left bits of tick out and get on because of increased risk. This is good advice and I asked for it and it was nice of the person to leave it. But I’m not going back to the doctor to demand that he pick apart my infected leg. Well, I dunno, maybe I should. I go back to Paris tomorrow.
When I get worried about personal matters, I deflect my attention by worrying about terrible diseases that I might catch. So I have been very terribly worried about this – sort of in a panic. Except not sort of, I actually start to panic. This does not help my thinking. I had finally calmed down and now I’m all panicked again. (This is oversharing, sorry – not doing my best thinking.)
Tag: Celesteh

If the spot where a tick bit you gets kind of red and slightly raised an a bit itchy, does that mean there’s still some tick head left or is it something else?

I’ve read that German ticks carry a viral disease, meningitis or encephalitis (I forget which and I’m not looking it up, cuz it’s freaking me out). My german friend said that you won’t get it if you get the whole tick yanked out, but this leaves me with questions: True or not true? How quickly would you have to pull the whole thing out to avoid the disease? What if there was a tiny bit of the head left a week later that was causing swelling?
I am being unreasonably concerned about this. It is alarming me unduly.
Tags: Ticks, Celesteh

I came to Germany to see Phillip Schulze’s diplome at the HFG in Karlsruhe.. He gave a concert and then his thesis committee met immediately afterwards and decided if he could graduate.
So in the morning after I arrived in Germany, I took a hike in the Black Forest, attracted a creature which I had not yet discovered, and then in the evening went to see his concert. It started with a five minute film loop. People went in small batched to see the film. This is a good way to start an event like this because it means you can start on time and still accomodate latecomers. Plus people who go first to see the film can discuss it afterwards. There were many people from the previous evening’s art opening that I recognized and so we spoke for a bit about the film.
It started in the woods, with busts of flashlight on trees. A little bit like the Blair Witch Project, with a music designed to create a certain amount of tension, but not too much. Then it moved to more domestic surroundings, but always at night and always lit by flashlight. It was very well done, something that you might expect to find in a museum.
Then he had a string quartet. It was a video score on four screens, surrounding the audience. the string players did glissandos on two strings, from a very low note to a very high note. As they progressed, they became out of synch with each other and in between the two strings they each played. The video score was a very slow motion image of a man being lifted up this scaffolding structure. Two people on an upper level would grab and pull, while two people on a lower structure would push upwards. As the movies went on, they got out of synch with each other and out of synch with themselves so that the image was doubled. This, of course, went with the glissando, always upwards and more and more out of synch. As the images doubled, the expressions of the people in films became obscured. what may originally have been an expression of joy became a grimace or a pained look. Was he in rapture? In agony? the piece was very very good.
Then, after the string piece finished, , while we were all still sitting in the performance studio, a couple of people got up and started moving the wall structures aside. The way that they did it seemed choreographed and performative, but I don’t know if this was a feature of the way the space was designed or something more deliberate. As the last few pieces of wall were pushed aside, a large door to the street was opened. The sounds of revving engines echoed. Three pimped out cars drove into the school and parked just outside where the studio wall had been.
They opened their trunks and their passenger doors. The one on the right was parked with it’s trunk to me. Inside was fuzzy lining, a glowing mask from the film Scream, a playstation and a small laser light show, which played on the school’s cement floor.
In the driver’s seat of each was the car’s owner. On the passenger side was a musician with a laptop. All of the engines were still running. The car’s sound systems and lights were attached to the laptop. The laptop guys started to play sounds through the incredibly loud car sound systems. Phillip later said they were doing a feedback piece. The car that he was in revved it’s engine loudly (no small feat to make a TDI roar like that) and for a few moments, the sound of the engine and the sound fo the computer merged. Then the physical presence of the sound died away, but the computer echos remained, getting gradually pixelated. the space was large enough that pollution did not become a problem.
Phillip said later that he was thinking about small acoustical spaces and started wondering about cars. The idea worked wonderfully and while completely surprising, was not at all gimmicky.
After the car piece, one of Phillip’s friends carried in several cases of beer. The most outrageous car (not the one with the laser light show) stayed behind, stopped it’s engine and turned up some pop music for a small party while the thesis committee met. Two gave speeches about how great a student Phillip was. The party continued. The lights were low. I was exhausted from walking all day. And my blood was slowly being siphoned away (unbeknownst to me). I fell asleep leaning against a pillar.
I was woken up by the party moving. We had to leave the space. I was staying with Phillip, so I had to go with them. Walking outside in the cold air woke me up. We went to a bar, but the bar wanted to close, since it was like 2:00 am. Nicole and Phillip’s brother went home, as did many others. The rest went on to another bar which threw us out (much less friendly/ exasperated than the previous one) at 4:00 am. We stood around for a while and decided what to do. Everyone but me and one other guy was on a bicycle. They leaned on their bikes and talked about where to go. Two guys went to a kebab called “Viva la Mexico.” The Kebab was closing because of the late hour. The sky was lightening from the approaching sunrise. There were maybe 5 of us left. I couldn’t think straight anymore. We went home, finally. I was exhausted, but I thought, “when is the next time I’ll stay out all night partying in Baden?
Somebody told me that Phillip found the pimped cars by hanging out at a gas station. I asked him about it later and he said it was true. “this gas station is the best place to hang out in Karlsruhe” he said seriously. He told a story about staying out so late drinking with friends that they had been thrown out of every bar, even a Thai Karaoke bar. The sun was coming up, so they went to the gas station and bought beer in the mini-mart. Then they sat outside of the gas station and drank beer, until finally it got so very very late that they retreated to Phillip’s flat where they listened to a long composition by Anthony Braxton played on two saxophones and a bagpipe. One of the members of the group passed out.
Apparently, the opportunity to stay all out all night partying in Baden might come sooner that I would have thought.Tags: Concert, Celesteh

I asked the guy at my hotel this morning where I could do a load of laundry and he drew me a map to a laundry mat. I walked along the map route, but found nothing. A woman in a pink dress with a white flower pinned to it asked if she could direct me. She walked Nicole and I to the laundry mat, which was closed because it was sunday. I asked her if she knew another one but she couldn’t think of any that weren’t also closed. I was wearing my last pair of clean underwear and looking a bit consternated.
“You could do laundry in my flat.” she offered, “but I am going to church now. I’ll come back this way in an hour.” I thought briefly. I could wander around looking for another laundry mat and decline her offer. But then I thought “What would Sarah Dotie do?”
The first time I backpacked around Europe, I came up with three rules for travelling:

1. Never leave a place with a bathroom without using it.
2. always wash your hands
3. never step in front of a taxi cab

The third rule sucks, because there are several times in which it is a good idea to step in front of a taxi, but these involve there being green lights in your favor and the taxi being completely stopped or the taxi being empty and looking for fare. Anyway, I am changing my third rule to “Ask your self what Sarah Dotie would do.” She would say yes to a woman in a pink dress with a washing machine. At least, I think she might.
An hour later, the woman came back by and Nicole and I went back up to her flat. We started the load of laundry and she pointed out things we should see on my tourist map. Then she walked us back to where she had found us, pointing out landmarks so we could find her flat later to retrieve our clothes.
So she went back home and Nicole and I went cathedral-wards. In search of a bathroom, we stopped at a bar. I ordered mineral water while Nicole went to powder her nose. Two older gentlemen invited me to um, something about my water. I said ok. It was a day to say “ok.” Try it sometime. Say “ok” to folks when they seem sincere and you get good vibes from them. Also, standing at the bar is about 721384691 times more interesting than sitting at a table.
The gentlemen then invited us to lunch. WWSDD? Older gentlemen who invite younger women to lunch sometimes have motives that are best not encouraged. (Note to self: the way to decline a food invitation is to say that you just ate, not talk about how you must run to the cathedral so you can see it before you have to leave town.)
We went to the cathedral and an art museum. And then watched the end of the match with England. Moments after the match ended, people began t have small celebrations, although on a much smaller scale than the German win. The church bells started to ring. For evening prayers, which they do every evening around the time that the early match finishes. They hadn’t been ringing bells for Germany, just for vespers.
Later in the evening, we went back to the house of the woman with the washer. She had ironed my handkerchiefs. Ironed them! She asked Nicole and I to dinner. I explained that it had been my intention to ask her to dinner instead. Anyway, she took us to a restaurant on the other side of the river and then walked with us around for a couple of hours afterwards, pointing out Roman ruins. Cologne is full of Roman ruins. The parking garages have sections of ancient wall in them. Some of the streets were old Roman roads. Some still have original paving stones!
Over dinner, I mentioned being bitten by a tick. She asked me what the tick looked like. There are two similar creatures, she explained. One is a normal tick and the other burrows into your skin and has a different name in German. The second one is very dangerous. Years later, you can have fevers and be very sick.
If you’re ever trying to freak me out, that’s how t do it. Next time I’m online, I will be pouring over pictures of German parasites, trying to figure out if I’m going to have a mysterious and awful disease years from now. Nicole points out that this sounds a lot like lyme disease, something that I thought only existed in the United States. Whatever it is, the image of the tick wiggling it’s little legs at me haunts me. When I have a still moment, I see the six tiny legs struggling, showing that whatever I had plucked from skin was not only an animal, but a living one. Now, I want to avoid dispelling the image. I must be able to determine if I had the evil borrowing tick-like creature or a regular tick.
In other news, I saw the Ukrainian football team checking into the Hilton.
Tags: Cologne, Celesteh

When we arrived in Köln, Germany was playing Sweden. Moments after stepping off the train, there was a station announcement and everyone in the station cheered. The little train station cafés that had TVs had standing crowds spilling out of them, people gazing rapt. I wanted to stop and stand for a bit, but Nicole, wisely decided it would be better to find our hotel.

We walked out of the station and into the square, beneath the massive cathedral. It looms over the station (as I said 5 years ago) like it might step on it. I was momentarily shocked by it’s size. Then cheers echoed from around the square, from the train station, from every direction. Other people holding bags all ran towards whatever TV was closest to see the instant replay.

I watched the rest of the game from my hotel room, but those were the two goals for Germany. As the game ended, car horns started beeping, people burst into the street singing and – I kid you not – the church bells started to ring.

The party has not stopped since. Bands of young men continue to roam the streets singing their soccer songs. The most popular one has the following words: “DeutschLAND Deutschland Deutschland Deutschland!” The others were a bit too complicated for me to quite follow.

The streets were packed with throngs of people. They still are highly populated. I initially found the prospect of hundreds of drunken, celebrating football fans to be somewhat alarming, but then reconsidered.

However, as the night has gone on, they have diminished in number, but the ones left have become more aggressive.

You may be wondering what the hell I’m doing in Köln. Me too. I don’t have tickets for any matches. This morning I was all set to get to Alsace. But then Phillip said it was “crazy” to go south before going north. He had a point.

Although announcing my plans to do something seems to be connected with them changing shortly thereafter: I intend to go to den Haag on Monday and then possibly Rotterdam. I may have a concert in Karlsruhe on 11 July, but I don’t know yet.
Tags: Cologne, Celesteh

We went hiking in the black Forest. The part we went in was very beautiful, but they do a lot of tree harvesting, since it’s near a town (and thus a tram line). It wasn’t so much the black forrest there as the shady forrest with spots of light where trees had been turned into firewood.
It really is a lovely place to hike though. Ironically, the logging roads provide good reference points and ways to avoid getting lost. after hiking for a good long time, we finally got out of sight and hearing of the town. We stood for a moment at a (unnatural) clearing and looked down into the valley below. No buildings. No chain saws. No cars. Nothing but birds, wind through the trees and the occasional cowbell (well, it’s not 100% natural, but an altogether different feeling than city noise). Ah, lovely peace! Finally, outside of a city for the first time in so long!
But this is about wildlife: On the way back, we saw a deer, running through the woods, startles by our talking. In Karlsruhe, the next evening, I was stung by a bumble bee. Two days later, while showing in Köln, I pulled a live tick from my leg. It wiggled it’s little legs at me in a plea for release, so I dropped into a watery grave.
Tags: Black Forest, Celesteh