The earth mother ship

On July 21, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Food and drinks, Ibiza, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

I’ve wanted to go to Casita Verde for 19 years now but somehow it never happened – until yesterday.

‘Register at reception’ we were told, ‘Pay €10 and then eat some good food!’

Satiated by a homemade aloe vera juice boosted with lemon and a plate of about as organic as you can get food, we gazed at the valley in front leading on to the sea in the distance and I wondered if it could get any better.

“Would anyone like a tour?” came the call from the founder of this most magical place. Would anyone like a tour! I turned to T, “I always love the guided part of these trips – it’s my favourite bit.” “YES” we replied from our table with a view as we made our way towards Chris. I’d noticed him giving a friend a hug earlier, and it wasn’t lost on me. “He looks like a pretty good hugger, T, but I reckon I could challenge him on that one.”

We looked at a yurt, the ecological loos, the compost from the ecological loos, the media centre made of aluminium cans and various other recycled components – or was that the outdoor shower? I can’t remember, it was all so fantastic, so utterly inventive that my beached-up brain struggled to take it all in.

Chris told us the main project for the Autumn was a rocket stove fuelled sauna – the very name stimulated my imagination.

We took a break in a bolt hole up the mountain. It was quite a pad – a view that would make it hard to get out of bed in the morning it was so stupendous, as Chris continued to fill us in.

“This is like a ship on earth basically. No cables come into Casita Verde – we just use radio, that gets us the internet and any other kind of telecommunications we need. Our electricity comes from solar panels, and of course that’s how we heat the water. Unfortunately we’re 60% down on rainfall this year in Ibiza so we have to buy in thousands of litres – but every drop of it gets recycled on this site.”

On passing yet another house on the hill I spotted a kitchen at one end. “People always love to congregate in the kitchen at parties, so we built one with a dance floor made out of wooden pallets. It was originally supposed to be for yoga – but more people like dancing – so we put a DJ down at one end, make pizzas and dance!”

A carob coffee later and a boogie with Mike the master mixer on one of the the most magnificent dance floors I’ve ever had the honour to tread and it was time for home.

As we said our goodbyes I turned to face Chris. “I just wanted to say – how would you feel about a ‘hug-off’?” We held on to each other in a 10 out of 10 hug that had me almost relinquishing my crown.

A night out with the locals

On June 20, 2014December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, Ibiza, Life, Parties, People you may have heard of, Travel/vacationsLeave a comment

Things happen in Ibiza. Nice people pick you up from the side of the road at Es Caliu restaurant and take you to VIP at the hottest gig in town.

“Who is this guy?” I asked my hostess once in the car. “You know” she replied, “He sings that song: “I need to know now, need to know now, can you love me again?” “Oh, yes, I do know it!” “He’s phenomenal” she said.

We drove through the wilds of the Ibizan countryside towards the setting sun and the even wilder environs of San Antonio.

On arrival at Ibiza Rocks Hotel we were yellow wristbanded and ascended to the VIP area. Upstairs from the balcony, we took a view – literally. From our premium vantage point we could see the by now infamous swimming pool and a young buoyant crowd, eager to see their peer perform.

It was so happening, with the buzz of a singer about to appear on stage who I feel we’ll be hearing about for years to come, that I struggled to keep up.

The charisma of John Newman’s performance was something to behold. A strong voice, a unique look and a way with words: “I know you’re all here for the week you’ve saved up all year for – so let’s ‘ave it tonight!”

Hands were in the air and R – the hostess with the mostest turned to me excitedly: “This is it! This is the song!” Everyone sang along to an anthem less intangible than those of the 90’s – closer to the heart, and transmitted from a man who wears his on his sleeve – enhanced by a voice that’s still in my head today.

The after party took place at a small rustic hotel, deserving of a guided tour such is its history on this island. I stood in reception and took in the illustrious photographs adorning the walls.

Suddenly there was a commotion at the entrance. I heard the the Northern tones of a dominant force and immediately made my way through the fray to introduce myself.

“For goodness sake, how old are you with a voice like that?” “I’m 24” he replied. He smelled lovely, hair slicked back with a blonde streak, a gold necklace around his neck ..and I spotted some white socks. “Are they a tribute to Michael?” I asked. “No! Don’t look at the feet!” “But I love your look! It’s different. Where did you get that interesting pendant though?”

“Thank you” he said. “I try, I try. Oh…I designed the necklace myself.”

Of course he did. It goes without saying.

New kid in town

On June 13, 2014July 26, 2015 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, People you may have heard of, The Cuban BrothersLeave a comment

T and I approached the venue. The music was thumping and I wondered if we were in the wrong place. The pictures of this beach club looked so nice – so sexy; lots of people lounging casually by the pool drinking buckets of champagne with the sun shining down upon them.

If Pinky was there he would have said ‘What fresh hell is this?’ as we walked in and tried to make our way through a seething mass of semi naked bodies. Never mind, we’re adventurous types and with one Caipiroska down we started to move to the music.

Kengo ‘the bastard’ as he’s fondly known, hopped on the decks and suddenly everyone woke up.

I looked at a tall sultry looking figure standing beside him. He seemed like the new boy, suited and booted, a little shy and slightly ill at ease – Domenico’s been around for a few months now, but I’d yet to witness him in the flesh as it were.

Miguel arrived. “Ocean Beach, Ibiza, it’s great to be here, the feeling is nice, the feeling is nice.” He walked up to a man tattooed from head to toe with a large beer in one hand, and pulled the free hand over to his crotch: “Hey! Security! Security!” he shouted in protest.

He turned to another group: “You from Birmingham? Lovely place. Before my porn career, I used to run a brothel there, I think maybe your mother worked for me. No, sorry, sorry, it was your grandmother!”

The dancing started. Archerio, a Dad for just 11 days now took to the floor with Kengo San as the new boy looked on. “There’s just something about him..” I said to T.

Miguel officially introduced Domenico. He somersaulted out to join them and then breakdanced in the most graceful manner I’d ever seen. Tall and lean with an incongruous sort of Made in Chelsea look, his body seemed to be made of rubber.

After the performance I asked Archerio where they’d met him. “At a dance off” he replied. “We were so impressed we asked him to join us. He’s only 19! He does this amazing thing with his legs where he makes them a dead weight and then just spins around.”

I turned to Domenico. “So, is this your day job now?” “Well, I’m in a band as well; we don’t have a name yet, but we will – look out for me.”

We will Domenico, we will – and we like how you fit.

A little piece of history

On July 22, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Life, London, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

At 8pm this evening the Lindo Wing was on my mind. Would I continue watching the news coverage at home, and ‘Taylor and Burton’ to be aired shortly at 9pm, or take a trip down to Paddington to view history in the making?

I needed food anyway. I decided I’d walk out and see where my mood took me. Throwing some sandals on and slinging a bag across my shoulder, I walked out into the sweltering London heat and found myself ambling increasingly quickly along Little Venice canal.

20 minutes later found me a few metres away from the Lindo Wing at St Mary’s Hospital in Paddington acutely aware of the fact that at moments like this – and there have been a few in the last couple of years – London really does seem like the only place to be.

I looked up at a surly policeman: ‘May I walk down this road please? I’d love to see what’s going on’, I said smiling. He didn’t smile back but nodded in the direction behind him and said, ‘You can walk along there, Love – see how far you get’.

I did – past a steadily growing crowd and an enormous bank of photographers -the likes of which I hadn’t seen since the expectant parents’ wedding celebrations at Buckingham Palace. I struck up a conversation with a Japanese girl. ‘She’s been in labour 16 hours now’, she stated. ‘Really?’ I replied. ‘Yes, the same as Diana was with William’. I asked her if I could go in front of her momentarily to take a photo and she kindly acquiesced.

Moments later I found myself in the press pit with a plum position directly opposite the Lindo wing, and availing of the photographer from Rex Features’ step ladder. ‘As long as you don’t knock my can of Coke off the top of that, you can take a photo’, he said gruffly. I chatted to him and told him my cousin used to work for Rex. ‘Oh yeah? When was that? I’ve been there nine years now’.

At this stage, firmly ensconced with a myriad of photographers from Mexico and Japan to Australia and China, I found myself in conversation with one from the Agence France-Presse (AFP). He’d been there since 8am and was taking instructions from his colleague several rungs up a ladder just to my right. ‘I’m an intern actually’ he said sort of sheepishly. ‘I just finished film studies at Falmouth a week ago’. ‘Wow, you were lucky to get this gig then!’ I said. ‘How did you do?’ I asked. ‘A 2:1’, he replied whilst Pierre shouted at him: ‘Ethan, keep that loaded, I might need the battery in a moment’.

Apple Macs were everywhere and the organised jostling of a paparazzi press pack that took no prisoners were in typically jaded matter-of-fact form. ‘What’s everyone waiting for now?’ a few people asked them. The photographers shrugged their shoulders whilst they mounted their ladders ever higher. Something was afoot, and as usual they knew it before anybody else but they weren’t telling.

A roar went up from the crowd to my left. Cheers rang out and clapping. ‘Oh!!!! It’s a boy! It’s a boy!’ the woman next to me cried. ‘Kensington Palace have just announced it!’ It was too exciting. Along with everybody else, I held my hopelessly inadequate camera phone up just at the moment the Lindor Wing door opened and a smartly suited man descended the stairs carrying what looked like a leather bound folder. He handed it quickly to the waiting Royal car which then sped off carrying the very same announcement that would be placed on an easel outside Buckingham Palace gates not 20 minutes later.

A town crier came out and rang the bells. No one could understand a word he was shouting – such was the jubilation. Then a couple walked past wearing Kate and William masks. ‘Over ‘ere Kate and Wills! Over ‘ere!’ shouted a mass of paps.

I looked at the photographer deeply ensconced on his laptop on my left. He looked familiar. Tapping him on the shoulder I said, ‘We know each other, don’t we?’ We worked out that we’d studied tailoring some years ago together and caught up with what we were doing now.

Just as I realised it couldn’t get any better, I heard a policewoman behind me: ‘Oi, are you Press?’ she shouted. I looked directly at her as I stepped down off my perch for the evening: ‘No, I’m heading; no problem’. I caught a fellow history witnesser’s eye: ‘Well, you had a good long stint up there’, he commented with a smile as I said goodbye to my new pap friends and headed home to watch it all over again on the 10 O’Clock news.

Legacy

On July 7, 2013December 4, 2014 By Conversations with StrangersIn Entertainment, London, Music, People you may have heard ofLeave a comment

I walked home. I like doing that sometimes in London after a night out. Tonight was special: Balmy and still in my shorts, I marvelled that summer really was here.

‘There’s no place quite like this country at this time of the year’ Mick said to the Hyde Park crowd half way into the Stones’ gig. And he should know, he’s 70 this week and he’s been around. ‘Was anyone else here in 1969 for the last one?’ he shouted. A gentle roar went up from the crush that was front of the park stage for the first time in 44 years to see them in their altogether. ‘Well, welcome back, nice to see you again!’ A delicate touch Mick – but then this was full of delicate touches and so subtle that you didn’t even realise you were there, witnessing what you were witnessing. ‘I’m loving this set they’ve given us’ he continued. ‘It’s like a cross between Wimbledon and a pantomime.

Last night at leaving drinks, I checked the Juanometer. ‘Do you think we should get there for 12pm when the gates open, or leave it until a bit later – like 5pm? I know you’re going to have the right solution – you always do’ I said to my soon to be ex-colleague just departing to explore other territories and work opportunities. ‘Well, how much do you like them? If you really love them, then yes, you need to be there at 12. For me personally if Coldplay were performing I’d be there before the gates opened’. I thought about that. ‘You’re right as usual. I do like the Stones, but you’ve given me the answer’.

I texted Foxy. ‘It’s going to be scorchio tomorrow, let’s meet at 4?’ She agreed and it was settled.

As usual on an outing of this nature and significance, Foxy and I try to get a decent view. ‘Just keep walking.’ I said as we immersed ourselves in a crowd where the average age was 50 and remants of the 60’s were all around us in one form or another. ‘Where are people getting all this beer? I think I’d better go and look for food and drink before things start getting serious’.

Heading backwards into the fray again I found myself perusing the food stalls. Queues were aplenty and the beer tents were at least 20 people deep in front. I headed back to the main gate and fought my way to the bar to get a couple of drinks. Armed with those I queued for food – and half an hour later found myself with two haloumi foccacias in hand ready to find my friend again.

Back at the main stage, the crowd had shifted forward. The sun was beginning to set and the familiar chords of ‘Start me up’ blasted out.

There are no words really. Well, maybe a few: Brilliant, professional, slick. But the main one is ‘innate’. Seeing The Stones is not like seeing any other band. Viewing them like another would be to deny what really is pure DNA – for both them and us. The songs and this band are in your blood, an intrinsic feature of the landscape that is your life. Seeing them made flesh as it were, in front of your very eyes, is believing but unbelievable at the same time.

When the unmistakeable first few notes of ‘Satisfaction’ rang out in the encore, Keith smiled his white rakish grin, Mick continued to prance around in his gold lame shirt singing without a note out of place, Ronnie showed us what muscles were made of, and Charlie – steadfast Charlie – delivered the drums. Just as it should be, just as we know it is.