Returned on Saturday afternoon from Barcelona. No sleep for the whole night. Quite common in that town for me. After the workshop at SAE/Barcelona my host Carlos and I dropped my stuff off at the hotel room and headed out into to the cool Barcelona evening in search of some dinner in the old gothic area of the city. I had already sent a text to Raul that we would be going to a club called KGB where some friends of Carlos would be DJ’ing along with the possibility that I might be able to VJ a little.

As we started our prowl for sustenance it was almost natural that I should see Rigo’s girlfriend passing us buy with a string of beers. Saying hello she immediately pointed and said in Spanish where Rigo and Raul were and pointing in the direction of a small wall next to a big gothic church with a strange memorial outside it that has a little fire on top licking endlessly no matter the sky.

There they were in a row including a new face. Tall, yellowish hair, Rock T-shirt, red plaid ska like jacket was Dave from Dublin. Rigo was eating pizza from a box that made our eyes pop and we asked him where it was. “Good food and great friends always trumps ambiance!” I told Carlos. “Cheap too” said Carlos. We each got three slices. A variety pack plus me a small empanada of which its contents now escape my memory.

All of us heading towards KGB in a slightly undetermined manor. Rigo and I stopped at an ice cream place with all the flavors displayed under a large round plexi glass covered cooling device encircled by a neon light. One end was a lid and with the push of a button the lady taking orders and scooping would rotate the flavors we wanted to her end. “They are open all night… I love this place” Rigo remarked. We talked about being public figures and the women who love them as we lapped and chomped our cones.

Further up a semi-steep street Carlos runs into a former room mate and her friend. They then disappear and Rigo realizes that he is tired. After kisses and hugs he and Miriam depart and we continue our ascent while Dave and I begin to get familiar with each other as Carlos and Raul do.

KGB was still closed and we ducked into a corner bar for ice cold glasses with beer. A television set to VH1 softly rolls through several genres and spurs us to talk about our favorites of that medium. The friend of Carlos show up and grab chairs by our table and after the 2nd round of beers we step out and down to the entrance of KGB where my bag is thoroughly inspected and a joke about my appearance being similar to Osama Bin Laden is accompanied with a laugh and pat on the back. We are herded past the pay booth and I am introduced to two women. The slightly brassy dirty blond is one of the DJ’s and Carlos motions to me as we ascend a spiral stair case in the middle of the black club to the VJ booth to see if we can get me plugged in for some spin.

Twas a nice pulpit looking over the entire venue, bar spiral stair case, dance floor and stage with the back wall providing a surface for three projectors each with the same signal. The slightly geriatric goth running the visuals apologizes profusely that he cannot accommodate despite Carlos’ repeated claims of my stature. The owner of the club keeps things tight and won’t allow for anything unexpected. I am relieved at his determination. Herding back down the spiral stair case I join Raul and Dave for a round. Me with Vodka Orange and the others their chosen poisons. Revelers string and twitch their organs as the beep boop bop of the minimal tech hall pounds up and down. Amongst the unknown faces in it are a few familiar ones. Students who had attended the workshop provided by me earlier were hyped up by Carlos to come and see me VJ and expressed disappointment while I thanked them heartily for their kindness.

The conversations within the group began to deepen with each drink that was payed for alternately. Carlos explaining his idiom, Raul reaffirming his in support of our mutual respect. Then the lights go up and we are out on the street. A strategy forms. Carlos wants to jam bongos in a studio. We all hop in a taxi so that I can round up my belongings from the hotel room. I do so with Dave and then back in the taxi cab to this studio that we ascend to via some worn concrete stairs. Small and narrow with a drum set, computer, guitars, refrigerator, padded walls, toilet. One could sit out a bit of Armageddon in style.

Two hours later I am seated in an EasyJet and don’t notice the take off fast asleep. 13h30 in Berlin feels like 10h30.