Bold and unafraid

Mexico. The hand-shredder. 

Went to see a show in a little cafe. Some Aussie/Canadian singer-songwriter. Was pretty solid. I think I bought a CD. I don't remember. Can't even recall her name at the moment. Really stuck with me, yeah?

OK, thanks to google: Emaline Delapaix. Was good. She apologized for so many songs being melancholy, said that's what happens when one always ends up with "lazy and afraid men." I began to contemplate how to look like I'm on the verge of napping while being fearful of doing so.

Anyway, songs about some of these guys ripped 'em. Emaline said, "I'm a bitch." Then, out of nowhere (well, OK -- from behind the counter), the cafe owner says, "I'm a bitch, too."

But when I ordered a soda and all they could offer was something called Bios that they hadn't even tried, the owner offered to have a taste test, as she wanted to try it to. So we both had a shot of cola. Was tasty enough. They let me buy the remaining 2/3 of the bottle for 1/2 the price. Doesn't seem so bitchy to me.

Though she did continually drop/break dishes during the show. But then some random dude bought everyone some Italian ice. And there also was a "fist bump w kid in yanks hat." I think. I have that in my notes. I don't recall it happening. Which means, in some meta way, it did not happen.

At some point she asked if any Canadians were in the crowd (she was about to cover a Neil Young song and explained that some people at these shows hadn't heard of him. WTF?!). Looked at me -- "Canada or the U.S.?"

Me: "States."
Her: "Who did you vote for?"
Entire cafe stops, looks at me and laughs as I hesitate/say "ummm..." as I try to gauge the leanings of this Berlin coffeehouse with a singer-songwriter performing.

Me: "O...bama"
Her: "OK, good. I would have worried if you said Romney. He kind of seems like a d---."

Later, go to cafe and meet Kathryn to chill. She tells me to hide my Coke Zero on the way in, as this place is snooty enough to throw a fit. I do. We go upstairs, sit next to staircase. I move my bag. Suddenly the clear sound of an empty plastic bottle bouncing down the stairs echoes throughout the place.

Kathryn: "Was that you?!"
Me: "No. ... Yes."

I hid the full bottle but forgot about the empty. The empties -- they always get ya. So at some point someone from the cafe comes up and looks around. I play it cool, yo. They never suspect me. FTW!

All of this was reminiscent of another European dropping-empty-Coke-Zero-bottle-down-steps incident.

Had a laugenbrezel after the cafe. Deeeeelish. When typing that, iphone autocorrected to "Lauren Renzulli." Don't know if there's a Lauren in the CT Renzulli family, but later on I would have trouble with a revolving door. Not even kidding. Renzullis would be disappointed.

One of Kathryn's cats shredded my hand.

Went to Mauerpark for flea market. Good waffles to be eaten. Wall remnants to be seen. Souvenir purchasing to be resisted. On my way out, some busker was playing some song that sounded vaguely familiar. I kept walking, crossed the street. Heard one more verse from afar, realized it's Pete Townshend! I mean the guy was covering a Pete song ("North Country Girl"). Had it actually been Pete Townshend, I probably would have thrown up.

More stuff happened during the week, probably. Kap's friend Tina got sick and couldn't use a concert ticket, so I checked out Polica at a club that used to be a train station. I was told this was an American band. After listening to several songs and not understanding a word they were saying, I became unsure. Of course, I wasn't able to make out any syllables in any language. But between songs they introduced themselves and claimed to be from Minneapolis. Except for one of the drummers (yep -- singer, bassist, two drummers), who was from St. Paul. Home of one of the Lief Ericsson statues. And some churches, presumably.

It was a good show, though the heavy reliance on prerecorded music (mostly keyboard) was slightly off-putting. But the dual drummers were solid. Played in sync (as opposed to N'Sync, which would have been mortifying) to create powerful rhythm, but never obnoxiously so. Crowd was crazy into it. Bartender gave me a chip. Had no idea why. I took a "smoke" break. Had a good idea why.

Then Kathryn and I rescued a map. And I went to Prague.

More on those later. But I know what defenestration means.