Noz Update - Locked Out - Amsterdam, Netherlands
Now Playing: Will & Grace
Topic: Noz Update

Don't mock me...

As foreshadowing of a lost key story of my own 3 days later, here’s a little moment in Amsterdam.

The night before I flew out to Zurich, I was in the corporate apartments, I had a 5:30am cab arriving, and it was nearly midnight and I hadn’t eaten or packed. I ran out to get some food, and when I closed the door behind me and went to put my hotel keys in my pocket, I looked down to find my office keys in my hand! I flipped out. I didn’t have my phone on me, so I couldn’t call anyone, and even if I had a phone, it was nearly midnight and I didn’t know the numbers of anyone in Amsterdam.

I went downstairs to try to start knocking on random doors, and a Dutch girl in the apartment directly below mine eventually answered and let me in. Again, she was blonde 20-something kinda pretty, kinda plain – I think I’ve got some sort of weird cosmic pattern going. Too bad I’m neither single, nor into blondes in the first place. I crawled out of her window and scaled my way up to the floor above (giving my tum-tum a nasty scrape) and tried to get back in by slamming it from the outside while clinging to the railings without repelling myself backwards to my death or extreme discomfort. I’d have given my kingdom for a decent ledge to stand on.

When I gave up, she called the managers, made me dinner and a cup of tea, and sat with me while the lock-smith did his thing. We discussed yoga and meditation, culture and our careers. She did property law in Amsterdam and lived Thursday-Sunday in her real home in Freisland in the north. For dinner, she reheated me a vegetarian pasta dish.

When flipping out and totally berating myself for my own stupidity, fate would land me in the apartment of a new-age yoga chick who made me tea and said stuff like, “That kind of stress adds nothing, but takes away so much.”

“I have ahlways relahd on the kahndness of straynjahs”

Noz Update - Avoiding Getting Off (My Butt)
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Some mix Cd that the last dude left in the hotel CD player (free music!)
Topic: Noz Update

Before I continue my saga at Madrid from last week's posting, I'm going to stop a second to plug www.flickr.com. This is some Canadian company that's made the ass-kickin'-est photo sharing site I've ever seen.

Our company is always banging on about "user experience" and how it's going to be the catalyst or, better yet, the process of ossmosis, that seperates the wheat from the chaff in the modern market-place. In this case, it's really really true. Flickr's user experiece is da bomb. It's clear, quick and easy. It's thought of all the things I want, and a bunch of stuff I'd never have thought of, it's fast, fun, and slick slick slick. It's the first site that makes me think I can get my Mom running her own website (we'll do a skype and I'll show you through it, Mom).

I will be moving everything on my FullyDigital site onto Flickr very shortly.

A friend and colleague of mine who knows this stuff and most other stuff too (Mr M Fergusson, of Mr M Fergusson fame) uses it, and I've been playing with it - and other web stuff - all morning.

It's quarter to seven in the evening, it's a gorgeous day out, and I'm in Amsterdam. Yet, I still haven't put on any clothing, and I've eaten just about everything in my apartment/hotel thing to avoid getting dressed and going out to feed myself.

I have skyped, text msg'd, and emailed tonnes of people. The internet, a warm comfy bed, and a Sunday are a seductive combination... be warned.

Oh no... I've just broke the seal on a 6-pack of Heineken. You may never see me again...

Check out my new Flickr page. Not much on there yet, but just watch this space.

Noz Update - Alicante with Machel - Spain is Over
Now Playing: Galvanize by the Chemical Brothers (for the 3rd time today)
Topic: Noz Update

Arrival in Alicante uneventful. Met up with Anais and Jason, the star-crossed Spanish-Canadian lovers who have relocated from Edinburgh, Scotland to Anais' summer house in Spain while Jason's time runs out before Jason must return to Canada. I don't know the details to be honest but it's a bit sad to know they're on the clock to when Jason has to go. As someone already in a long-distance relationship, and on a work permit, this is a tale of woe with which I can connect.

We ate (of course). Nothing special beside the fact that I can use this as a vehicle to point out one recurring aspect in Spanish dining: Friendly service, generally good food, and a consistent talent for forgetting or screwing up aspects of your order. Just happens'

Monday 30/05/2005 - My Birthday

Even though I've been typing this document every day I managed to not notice the dates creeping up to my birthday. I turned 27 today and it completely evaded my notice. I was reminded when I received a voicemail saying 'Happy Birthday!' and went, 'Oh'. Riiight! Birthday' yeah'' Profound thoughts on being 27? I'm officially bearing down like a freight train on 30. That's good news and bad news because it's been my experience that 30-year-olds go through a difficult existential panic right when their birthday clicks over until about 33. On a more positive note, 30 seems to be the age when 20-somethings finally start to find you attractive. Seeing as I have a girlfriend, that's information I can just keep in my back pocket' Love you, babe! : D

We went out to a restaurant on 'the strip' and ate seafood. Overall, not a big-deal birthday ' just how I like 'em. Lots of lovely messages from friends and family came in. That's really all I want or need.

Tuesday 31/05/2005 - Last Day: Dreaming and Swimming

Had a nightmare last night. I drank a Granizada de Caf' (blackest of black coffees, on ice) ' which upset my stomach badly and I believe was the cause. The form was fascinating and the content obscure. Click for the dream.

After breakfast we went to photograph flowers and then went swimming. This was my first time in the Mediterranean Sea ever! It's amazingly warm (or was that day at least), and, if I'm not crazy, felt 'softer' than other seas I've been in.

Because I can't do anything the simple way, I took to burying myself. It's a good workout and being covered in wet sand is not a sensation one often gets to experience. Check it out. I loved this. It was like the earth giving you a deep hug. Below the belt' which is my favourite type of hug.

Other than this, my last day here was uneventful. We kicked it around a beach-resort town in the off season. Not a recipe for a blast. Overall, Madrid was the far superior part of the trip.

That's all for Spain. Special thanks for those of you who trolled through it all!

Noz Update - Madrid - Gays and Shopping, Who'da thought?
Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Law and Order opening credits...
Topic: Noz Update

Saturday - 12:12 28/05/2005 – Shop until You Drop a Load

Rachel slept until noon. I worked more on Boy Robot -- The S&M's latest track -- and searched for stuff to do in my trusty Lonely Planet. Spain gets one of the biggest sections being one of the "big 5" European countries/kingdoms (UK, Germany, France, Italy, Spain), as opposed to the "B list" countries like Portugal, Sweden, Greece, etc.,"C-list" Belgium, Croatia, or "M-list (miscellaneous) countries like Belarus or Luxembourg. (I like to get a little generalising and semi-random disparaging into every update, and having the Lonely P as support really helps!)

I'm flipping through this thing realising that 3 days in Madrid is both a joy and a tragedy. My interest in moving here has completely been renewed, and I realise that it's time to start putting away money and actually planning instead of nurturing the hope I'll be sacked at just the right time and handed a giant golden parachute. My friend Dan is planning his emigration to Canada a year in advance and it's making me think I've got to get my shit together; gotta get actually planning once I get the go-ahead from the UK Gov that I am on route to Passport-town. Rachel's creamery-British skin got lightly toasted by the sun yesterday, so our mission Saturday is to find a big-ass hat (sombrero?) to shield her from the pounding rays.

Saturday Cont. - 09:24 29/05/2005

(Now Sunday morning, but I can tell you about yesterday). We went straight out to eat at one of the Lonely P's suggested places. El Gloria de Montera restaurant is right around the corner from El Gran Via metro station and offers good food in a stylish atmosphere for pennies a glass. Very uncharacteristically, I chose badly. I went for something ambiguous, "chicken and herbs with vegetables" because it was steak last night, and I knew it was going to be meat in a meat sauce with a big side of meat for dinner (and meat pudding for dessert). My dish turned out to be an un-marinated pair of chicken breasts with undercooked aubergine (eggplant). There were nice asparagus, but I had grilled asparagus as my started (which was nice). Rachel kicked my butt with her wicked salad and a big plate of tasty beef carpaccio. Lonely P strikes again.

We called up Anais, our friend's friend in Alicante who used to live in here, and asked where the mad shoppin' is at in Madrid. Luckily, we were on the corner of El Gran Via and Calle Fuencarral which are both lined with shops. Anais said El Gran Via has all the traditional stuff, and the ol' Staple of Spanish department stores: El Corte Ingles (woo!). That would've been better for finding a hat, but 5 minutes into the Quest for Rachel's Sombrero, we asked a guy running a newspaper stand where there was a general clothes market, hoping we'd find hats but other good stuff too. He pointed us to El Marcado Fuencarral where we had a blast for the rest of the day without leaving the shopping centre.

El Marcado Fuencarral is on Calle Fuencarral which is lined top-to-bottom with crazy-ass shops. It starts out all skater and surfer, with designer sunglasses and such, and descends slowly into metrosexual, hippie, gay, rock, goth, and out-right S&M gear. This wide and graduated spectrum all concentrated in one area provides a fantastic shopping experience - especially for people with pretty spectral tastes like Rachel and I. At the end of the street is "El Marcado Fuencarral" itself, which is 3 floors packed solid with funk. It's a come-all-ye-coolios gay/straight mix with every type of 13-30 fashion imaginable, all for reasonable prices. It was a paradise for people into t-shirts with funny slogans. Check out this shirt basically made for me: Click me.

I went a bit AWOL on Calle Fuencarral... I'm now the proud owner of several new shirts, t-shirts, and a pair of trousers which make me look like one of Britney Spears back-up dancers, if not the great BS herself. Who thought plumber's butt could be so stylish? Besides the BS pants, my masterpiece purchase was a top designed and made personally by one of the owners of one of the little clothes shops. It's done in a Chinese style, and when I put it on Rachel said, "You look like you're going to kick someone's ass in that." Sold.

In the basement floor of the Marcado, next to the bar, we found a super-hip hair salon in which Rachel took her do to the next level. For 20 minutes I had to play translator trying to navigate terminology like "highlights", "permanents", "banding", "dying", "bleaching", "tinting", etc. and their Spanish equivalents, which of course aren't direct mappings. We say, "highlighting", but the literal translation of, "alta luces" makes no sense, and vice-versa. It wasn't easy going, but we eventually managed to get Rachel exactly what she wanted.

We screwed off for a few hours to do some more shopping while they got ready. The JOY that is stores that all stay open until 9pm! We asked, "When do we come back?" They said, "We'll call you," i.e, fuck scheduling. I love Spain. Rachel and I shopped it up until she got set up in the chair, and we chatted for an hour with the hair chick – who was 2-weeks fresh into Madrid from Galecia in the north, and very cool – while Rachel got her locks reconstructed in the fashion of a Guns n' Roses groupie's.

Noz's Adventures in Cottage Country

Here's my best bit of the day: I had one of those weirdo experiences that happens on vacation. I was in the washroom at a urinal doing my thing. And as I'm turning around to go wash my hands, some other guy walks in. He makes eye contact with me just a little too long, and then goes up to the urinal. I was made a bit quizzical by the initial look he gave me, so I looked over at him while I was washing my hands. He's obviously got his trousers open, and I figure he's mid-act getting out Mr Bilbo to do his business. Yet, his elbow doesn't stop a-bobbin'. Soon it's been about 12 times as many motions as required to get your average or very enormous penis out from a pair of shorts, and the guy's still going. Then he turns around and makes eye contact again. I can't really describe his facial expression besides a non-committal look that said "And?" Basically, I got the message: "I'm not going to admit anything's out of the ordinary here until you do," and that if I did admit something was out of the ordinary, I was going to win the prize of the day!

Although you'd assume different, this was actually a new experience for me. I've never had quite such an invitation directed at me in such a public place. We were in the toilets of a shopping centre. It wasn't like we were in Greece or something...!

Slowed to that mystic pace one adopts when something bizarre is going on, I finished washing my hands trying to give the benefit of the doubt that this guy wasn't trying to snake-charm me, and while washing and then drying, he turned around an additional two times to make eye-contact with that expectant face. By the end, it was pretty much confirmed this was a highly-elegant and personalised invitation. I finished drying my hands and left.

After sitting with Rachel for another 10 minutes, my curiosity got the better of me. Like, this guy eyes someone he fancies and begins the dance of the 5 fingers up against a urinal to delicately woo them, right? What happens if their intended declines? Do they wait for the next one? If they do find one, what do they do? I guess the question is also where do they go? Do they just spin round (or not spin around, I guess...) right there in front of the hand soap, or do they requisition a stall, or what? I told Rachel, "I'm going to see if Mr Wanky has gotten any action," and I went back to the washroom. There he was, poised as before. I specifically didn't make eye contact this time, because it's rude to be a tease, and I made a smooth and seamless getaway: Having ducked into the washroom, I checked that the stall nearest the door was vacant, should I have an emergency, confirmed there was sufficient water pressure in the taps, and then turned on my heel and walked out again. Obviously, this was a totally everyday bathroom visit, impossible to confuse with a base and uncouth freak-watching expedition. Ah, life in the big city...

And Back Again

From one end of the social spectrum to the other, dinner was again at El Senador. This time we had mixed grilled vegetables and smoked salmon croquettes to start - excellent - and Ox "al la piedra", for the main. The vegetables were done to perfection with a very light olive oil and herb dressing. The croquettes were also quite subtle, served with a little pile of "microfries": tiny shavings of potato deep fried so it was like a cross between a crisp and a chip (fry). Everything was dusted with rock salt (everything in all of Madrid I think gets dusted in rock salt, lest you accidentally ingest something unsalted)

The meat was DEELISH. They take a sirloin fillet, marinate it thoroughly, and then flash it in a hot oven to seal in the juices. Then they thin slice it and serve it basically raw on a platter. In the centre of your table they place a heated stone plate ("a la piedra" means "on the stone"), like a Chinese hot plate, with some rock sea salt sprinkled on top. You then finish frying the meat at the table to your liking. The first time I tried it, I thought it was a bit odd to just be eating nothing but meat for the main course with not so much as a potato to go with it. Rachel had the same reaction. I however, having been there done that, was delighted. We polished off an entire platter of succulent strips of ox before tottering off to the ice cream shop for raspberry and mango sorbet just before midnight.

The skies of Madrid that night were purple, and the clouds were red. The whole world had a rosy glow. If I hadn't seen it and I was reading this I'd think I was being metaphorical, but we have the photos to prove it. We stopped in front of the Basilica Pontificia de San Miguel on the way home and collected evidence.

Although this is my third time in Madrid, it’s my first vacation here, and my first time in the spring. Rachel and I have often discussed this trip the impact of weather on culture, or even just our lives as individuals, and it seems no coincidence that the weather in the UK seems to be saying, "Life is hard and brutal, and you must work every day to survive. Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and a social non-event" and the weather in Madrid seems to wrap its arms around you and say, "I know – and I’m sorry – that sometimes I am very rough with you, but in the end, I will always love and support your health and happiness".

The warm breezes at one in the morning allow you to wear a given outfit, go out for an afternoon of shopping or dinner, or what have you, and stay out until the wee hours without having to run home to seek shelter. The sun – when taken wisely – seems to be feeding your skin vitality directly. Everything here makes us feel so alive.

On the way home, we went back to the masseurs for some more brutalisation. This time we were kinda broke, and Rachel’s shoulders were still sore from the first time, so we had to disappoint them with only a small engagement. They tried very (very!) enthusiastically to up-sell us, but when then they finally realised I was serious that we were out of money and that Rachel wasn’t interested, we got nice but short treatment and went on our merry way. They were a bit disappointed, but we were delighted.

Sunday 13:29 29/05/2005 - On the train to Alicante

We’re in coach, but there is more leg room than I need, and an in-trip movie (Asterix and Obelix the film! With Gerard Depardue and Laetitia Casta. Laetitia Casta, man, apparently not looking her best here, but can anyone say racked and stacked? There’s a party in my pants and everyone’s slipping around on the floor on their way to the drinks table).

The train seems a bit too good to be true. I’ve got a little bin all to myself; there’s a movie and nature a documentary available for my viewing pleasure; I’ve got so much leg room I am having trouble reaching my laptop and table that are mounted in the seat in front; it’s clean, well lit, and comfortable; and there’s a lady coming round handing out free headphones for the movie, and candies. If this is coach, I’m figuring first class has free Swedish massage and Salsa classes.

Stuff we missed in Madrid:
Parco del Retiro
Plaza de Espana
Opera (Palacio Real)
El Prado
Tyssen

Noz Update - Surrealism and Serrano
Topic: Noz Update

Friday - 00:43 28/05/2005

Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo - Girlfriend, I am TANKED!

I have officially had a good week! We just got back from dinner at El Senador. Opposite the Spanish senate buildings, El Senador is my favourite restaurant in Madrid. I had seafood-stuffed artichokes for starters and the Sirloin Ox steak. The artichokes were very nice, but a bit complex to eat, and I wouldn’t order them again. Where presentation faults good flavour, eh? The steak however, was so tender and delicate that I could have cut it with my fork and chewed with a mouth full of gums. I have to tell you a bit about this steak, because to me and Phill, it is “The Steak” and its tale has been told in great detail, in many corners of Europe.

About two years ago, my friend Javier Fidalgo, Corel’s Sales Manager for Spain and Portugal, took us to El Senador for the first time. On the continent, food and business are like ying and yang, so Corel has funded Javi’s education on all the best places in Madrid to take clients to stuff them until they are happy to sign-off purchase orders with wine-stained nonchalance. Javier is a regular at El Senador and took us there on our first night.

Instantly, a legend was born.

At the time, having lived two years in England, I’d gone off steaks completely. British beef is of ok quality (a little crazy at times maybe, but what can you do?) but lo and behold the Brits again pass up another opportunity at culinary greatness when it comes time to prepare the meat for human consumption. Good steak can definitely be found, but it?s a bit like playing the lottery as to whether it will have actually been made properly, and I?m not a gambling man. So, when the steak orders were going in, I got the white fish instead. It was good, but I regretted getting it for years after.

The meal started with “Jamon Serrano Pata Negra” or, “Black-foot cured ham”. Serrano ham is a favourite of many a European, but few know what the black foot signifies. The best Serrano ham legs (hocks? What’s a hock anyway?) have the foot dipped in black wax to signify their level of quality – their “status” if you’ll permit me. We got an entire plate of the stuff. Each bite was an orgasm of meat flavours that plunged all previous Serrano hams into bitter humiliation. All the other pigs were rolling in their graves; With a great degree of difficulty... on account of having no legs, innit? Anyway, we were off to a beautiful start.

When the mains came, the simple unassuming block of meat first came into our worlds, with its single broiled potato companion and sea-salt crystal coating.
It was about 4 x 4 x 1 inches.
I had but one bite.
More flavourful and delicate than any I’d ever had before, from then on it was, “The Steak”. Phill and I have been since travelling Europe telling the tale to all who’d listen.

This visit, Rachel had a different steak. It was chunked, with mushrooms and a sherry sauce. She approved, and I seconded. I had lemon sorbet with champagne for dessert, and she had milk curds with honey. Mine was quite nice, but milk curds (basically, thick milk in a pot) wasn’t much to Rachel’s liking. We made up for it by putting away a lovely bottle of Rose Cabernet Sauvignon. I’ve been back to El Senador 4 times now, and each time it has delivered with gusto.

Surrealism and CARS

The conversation revolved around Surrealism, and to a lesser extent (because neither Rachel or I know the difference), Dadaism. Raised in a household with Freudian philosophical foundations, I feel a natural gravitation to surrealism and its core precepts. Those of you who read my update on Lausanne will remember my passion for Art Brut, and the creation of art that transcends context, culture, and conscious thought process – the ball and chain of every artist.

The conversation was spurned by today's visit to the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. The CARS houses modern art, with a Spanish focus. Opened in the 1980s in the shell of an old hospital, the center houses the modern art collection relocated from El Prado, e.g. Picasso's Guernica, and several hundred other works, plus many subsequent acquisitions. Highlights were definitely the works of Fontana, Eduardo Chedilla, Torner, Gargallao, and the El Paso Group (also known as the Chimichanga group of Old El Paso).

I feel an intrinsic connection with Spanish surrealism. Even if many of its artists fled Spain's oppressive political climate to Paris in the first half of the 20th century to nurture their work, I think that Surrealism's spiritual home is still truly Spain. As South America's masturbatory love-child is magic realism, surrealist art and Spain have a natural fraternity. I feel this despite the nearly ubiquitous political charge of (popular) Spanish modern art, and the contradiction between surrealism and socio-political commentary.

Spain and Surrealism

I look at the works of Picasso, Dali, or Gargallao, and they revolve around building form from amorphism. They draw meaning not only from things, but from the lack of things, and lack of shapes, draw connections from what's implied by the void. E.g., Dali builds anthropomorphised shapes from the silhouettes drawn between forms of various sundry items animal, vegetable and mineral – each of which is in itself distorted and recombined to create new shapes.

Dali, by disconnecting from reality, but only in part, he's able to visualise the free association that occurs in the unconscious; where emotion and instinct, not reason, guides the synthesis of meaning. This, for me, is Spain in a nutshell. The meaning is not what we rationally apply, the meaning is what it is, and it is our task -- our mission and our privilege -- to incorporate that meaning into our lives. All culture and civilisation stem from that. I see a connection between Dali and Flamenco.

Picasso's breaks through the boundaries of the canvas with his cubist paintings. They create motion in stillness by capturing a series of moments in overlay - each "distortion" of a face that he adds is an angle on that face as it moves in time. He paints the trails of an instant transpiring, letting us share more than an image of an experience, but a brief moment with the subject.

We watched Le Chien du Adaluz and L'Age D'Or at the theatre. Both films are surrealist works where the ongoing civil war between super-ego, ego and id is played out visually. In my favourite scene of El Chien, the male protagonist is gripped by a passion to ravage his partner sexually, and takes on his shoulders two ropes which are tied to (in order) the tablets of the 10 commandments, two puritan pioneers, and two grand pianos sporting slaughtered livestock. So at the moment when he is about to let go and succumb to his id to consume his partner carnally, over two millennia of culture weighs him down, stopping him from realising his desires. It's beautiful.

After the Reina Sofia, we went back to the hotel and on to the restaurant. There we met my friends Lager and Sangria, and loop back to the beginning of this post.

The Saga continues next time...! Replies, are invited.

Noz Update - Run up to Madrid (recovering from fatigue by running away)
Mood:  a-ok
Now Playing: Build it Up, Tear it Down (Fatboy Slim)
Topic: Noz Update

Run-up to Madrid

HOLA!

In Madrid! It's 20 to 10:00am, and we're still in bed. Rachel and I have come to Spain for a long weekend. Today is just the beginning of day two, and I'm already feeling an enormous improvement in my quality of life. I had a momentous week, mainly good! If I keep up at this pace, I'm on the verge of having a great week, end-to-end! It's been a while since I've had one of those!

Check out the buildin' it up (and tearin' it down):

Monday

On Monday, in UK after an uncharacteristic 3 weeks (!!) in the UK. I ducked out of work early and submitted my paperwork to my immigration lawyer, who is preparing my case to present to the UK Government. On June 6th we're going to present that case together saying that I've been here on a work permit for 4 years, and it's time to let me off the stupid work permit program and grant me what's called "unlimited leave to remain". ILR is not citizenship, it's the right to live and work as a foreigner without having to get job-by-job permission each time. It also gets me on the road to citizenship, because after one year of ILR status, I can put in my appilcation for "naturalisation" which will upgrade me from the base and unnatural state of being "non-British" and allow me to enter the good grace of god as a full passport-holding Brit! For the modest fee of 1150 GBP (2500+ fuckin' BUCKS as we'd say in Canada), I will, if my case is accepted, be able to get ILR and get cookin' on becoming a citizen of an EU country! Then I can LEAVE England! Yay!

Tuesday

Tuesday, work again. We're doing "the pitch of the year", so I've been totally subsumed in this esoteric process that is preparation of a "Request for Proposal Response". This sucked me in for the last two weeks, and has had me working 10 hour days with my boss to co-create, co-ordinate, gather, and check all the content for putting together the proposal. It ended up as 48 pretty-good-looking pages and appendices.

More importantly, Tuesday Tim and I went out for lunch to Welyn Garden City centre, and posted off our tracks to Computer Music Magazine! We were all giddy with excitement as the woman took our package and applied the stamp! Wish us luck. I'm looking forward to words in the Review like, "best ever" and "I wish I could make music like this." We may not get a review at all, but judging from some of the songs that have gotten in the magazine before, I think we've got good chances. Our consensus of “your songs don’t such” from friends and family is quite promising. Tuesday night I flew out to Amsterdam and stayed with a colleague from work.

CLICK FOR THE BIG S+M NEWS!
the Solution + the Machine Band Blog:
http://solutionandmachine.tripod.com/sm/index.blog?entry_id=1141232

Wednesday

Wednesday we did a trade show at the RAI Center Amsterdam. It was the Gilbane/XTECH (previously XML Europe) conference. A way better show than last year. I had a solid lead from a pharmaceuticals company. I got a neat little tid bit of info. Our product tracks the audit trail of a document in review, and keeps a record of everything that happened, when it happened, who was involved. He told me that their company only keeps the "approved" version of documents, and once the document is signed off, the first thing they do is destroy the audit trail! In a legal inquiry, what they're looking for is when exactly the pharm company knew there was a problem. So if people start dying or sprouting extra limbs out of their nose, and you knew a year before you released a drug it's not as bad as if you knew three years before. I hope the hearing that the first thing that pharma companies do when they finish a clinical trial is destroy the docs gives you the same warm fuzzy feeling it gives me. I think they should put that on their website; "Buy our drugs! We burn our documents!" Wednesday night I flew back to London and stayed at James and Rachel's to catch our 8am flight the next morning.

Noz Update - Fatigue
Now Playing: Deathboy (featuring Noz, no less...)
Topic: Noz Update

So much to talk about. I wasn't sure if to make this a "personal" blog or put it on my travel website (which is where it is).

I figured go with travel, because I'm usually talking about the lighter sides of jet-setting, but this blog is really all about how not having a home, or 3 weeks stability in the same city SUCKS the energy out of you like a gigantic parasite...

So, once more into the abyss my friends.

I never did tell y'all about my skiing trip to the French Alps. Truly, that was fa-boo-lous. That was nearly 4 months ago now. In the meantime, I had a whirlwind of a couple of months, which I documented in my last couple of updates. I was kicked out of the UK while my passport paperwork was going on, and I had to spend 6 weeks running around the continent without a chance to go home.

I’m home now, but only in a sense. I’ve realized that I was barred from the UK for 6 weeks, and couldn’t go back. I moved all my stuff into storage. In early April, that was lifted, but really, what’s changed? I went back to the UK, moved into my friend Tim’s house, and my stuff is still in storage. I sleep on an air mattress on the floor and my clothes rotate from the washing machine to my suitcases. I’m really enjoying living with Tim, but I’ve not been there all that much. My triumphant homecoming was all of 8 or 10 days, then I had to go back to France, and then I spent a week in Amsterdam. It was a two-day event, the European partner day. Since I’m European Partner Manager, this was rather intense for me. Having been on the road for two solid months prior to this (can I really count my week and a bit where I moved from storage to Tim’s spare room a “homecoming?”) and I was NOT at my best. The Partners were happy, but I wasn’t and I got some criticism for seeming sloppy. All I could say was, “It’s not been a normal couple of months…ok?” There aren’t really any excuses that hold any water. I couldn’t keep it together anymore and I was fucking up.

Back to the UK for a week, back to France, back to the UK for something like 6 days, then a week in the Netherlands, then straight from the Netherlands for two weeks vacation back home to Canada. That was AWESOME. I did no work while I was there for my company, and only checked email once. Any trip home is not exactly R & R. This one was wonderful in terms of how everyone was doing, and seeing everybody, but the schedules were intense. Up until 3 or 4 with friends, awake 5 hours later for full days with family.

So, two weeks in Toronto, then back to the Netherlands (return half of my flight out) for a few days, then I went to visit Elodie in France for the weekend. This was good, but too short. It’s also a bit of a haul from the north coast of France to Hatfield where I’m living because you have to go down to Paris, just to fly back up and over into the UK. Now I’m back in the UK for nearly three weeks. This seems like an eternity, yet I can already tell that I’m going to be off again before I know it. I’m doing a tradeshow in Amsterdam for 1 day, then I’m back to London to catch my flight to Madrid for vacation.

June is looking not much more stable. Back from Madrid, then the UK, then the weekend in Le Havre and the week in Paris, then the UK for a week, then Germany, then Amsterdam. That’s June done. Thankfully July, isn’t booked up yet.

I’m becoming more and more conscious of the weirdness of my life. I think being home is what brought it to the surface for me. I’ve noticed I use the word “So…” way more than I used to. I think it’s symptomatic of the overriding feeling of everything is leading to some sort of forward momentum. There’s no time for flower-smelling in my mind anymore.

Elodie mentioned to me that it’s hard to be apart, because you experience things, and you wish your partner was there to share it. I realized that I just don’t feel that anymore. I used to feel it all the time. It used to be a pretty regular occurrence that I was on some sunny beach, or in a stunning old cathedral or castle or something thinking, “Wow, _____ would really love this. Wish they were here.” But you can’t just wish for things all your life that aren’t going to happen. It’s both a positive and a negative. I think I focus on my own enjoyment wherever I’m going now, and because people aren’t there, I try to suck up every last ounce of the experience, and I also go to the trouble of blogging as much as I can, and that allows me to share the moments afterward. At the same time, it’s rather introverted and isolating to think and feel that sense that it’s natural that these special moments are all solitary ones, or with acquaintances or even strangers.

The most important thing in my life right now - because everything is so crappo - is my music. I feel blessed – blessed by our lord Buddha who art in wherever he is – that Tim and I found each other. We were both messing about with music software for years before we met, and then when we hooked up, it’s been 1+1=5. The stuff we’re doing together is so much better than what either of us were doing alone that it freaks me out sometimes. I ran around Toronto playing our tracks for anyone or anything with the necessary apparatus for converting vibration into sound as we know it, and everyone liked them. Only two people (of some 25 or so) have ever taken off the headphones before the tracks were done. Some people just smile and nod, but it’s a sincere smile and nod of, “That’s not crap!”

I’ve also gotten reactions like, “You made this?” and, “This is my new favourite song!”

Making music is something that gives me a deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, which my professional life doesn’t give me anymore. It’s difficult to source that kind of satisfaction from things that can be stuffed in a backpack. My photography is always great, but I’ve not actually been anywhere new for a while. I’m usually pretty tired out when in Amsterdam, and when I have energy, I’m eager to get back to the hotel so I can work on some music. Amsterdam’s kind of a second base for me now, so I’m not any more compelled to go out when I’m there than when I’m in the UK. I go when my friends are going somewhere, or when I see an ad for a neat good event or something. My writing is similar to my photography, I do it from time to time, but if I can get two poems or stories out in a month then I’m delighted. I still dance, but instead of 5 times a week, it’s more like twice a month. I’ve decided that martial arts and sculpting will have to wait until I’m more stable, and I usually don’t bother writing down my screenplay ideas… they’re just too long, and making movies involves too many people. A good screenplay can also still make a crap film, so it’s hard to get the sense of completion from doing one.

So, I trundle on. I’m resigned to the fact I’m going to basically be like this until such time as my lifestyle calms down, so I’m trying to get my paperwork settled as fast as possible so I can stay either in the London or Amsterdam without worry about a permit, and I’m trying to balance getting out so I don’t get stir-crazy in the house, or get totally exhausted from exertion.

Elodie and I are planning to be in the same city by about the end of the summer. That’s going to be pretty wicked. I’ve got a lot of work to do with my lawyers to get that accomplished, but by the end of the summer we should be well on the road to getting set up somewhere (either London or Amsterdam) long-term. The separation is hard, but I’m managing to be in Le Havre at least once a month, and thank god for the internet. So, stability is in my sights, even if I am not near it now. My work is starting to notice I’m not at my best, but we’ll see how that goes.

I've been writing this update for a few days in bits and pieces and I'm having trouble winding it to much of a natural conclusion. I can say that since starting it, I've been to three birthday parties and ended up with three wang-doodlin' hang-overs, published the Solution + the Machine website, and finally burned that CD to send to Computer Music magazine with our tunes on it. Work has improved a bit (was suckin' the big one), and my room has started to smell like a hamster cage (still looking into that one...).

I usually only blog when I'm happy, and this precise very second, I am happy. Overall however, this blog probably keeps to my nature of wanting to mix it up just 'cuz, and so, is probably the least enthused Noz Update ever. So Nozfans, I hope I continue to keep you guessing at least from time to time.

Times like these are why the good lord gave us heavy metal and industrial music. Because we need them.

"Let freedom ring with a shotgun blast

- That dude from Machine Head who seems to be angry all the time

Teppanyaki Nippon (Japanese Grill)
Mood:  a-ok
Topic: Restaurant
Teppanyaki Nippon

Regulierwarstraat 18-20
1011 BM Amsterdam
+31 20 620 87 87
+31 20 620 17 88

Open 18.00 - 12.30

Faaaaaaaantastic Japanese food. Quantities are HUGE if you get any of the set dinners, but fun fun fun.
40-60 per person with a beer.

Restaurant L'Ardoise
Now Playing: The Infernal Machine (aka Tim Nutman) on Reason 3.0 in the next room
Topic: Restaurant
28 rue du Mont-Thabor
75001
Paris
(00 33 1 42 96 28 18)
for Directions see my Flagr page:
http://www.flagr.com/fullydigital

My favourite and only really must-go restaurant in Paris (as sad as that is...because there's probably a 1000 I'd love).

Does set meal prices (which I think include wine). Frequently changing menu on a blackboard. French Home-Kitchen atmosphere, lovely staff, usually with passable English.

Recommended by: Lawell Kiing from Business Objects (previously of Corel and Blast Radius)

Heaven is where
Mood:  a-ok

HEAVEN is where
The cooks are Spanish
The police are English
The mechanics are German
The lovers are Italian
And everything is organized by the Swiss

HELL is where
The cooks are English
The police are German
The mechanics are Spanish
The lovers are Swiss
And everything is organized by the Italians