Video flyer para la fiesta Africa!

African party video-flyer!

Eleni's Thanksgiving-themed cookies

My mother always told me to bring something when I am a guest in someone else’s home. With that wise advice engrained in my brain, I always make an effort to find something delicious to take with me. Thanksgiving is approaching, which gives guests the perfect opportunity to bring a tasty treat for a host or hostess. I have found a few easy options, with no cooking required.

Cannolis

While they might not be the most traditional Thanksgiving dessert, Stuffed Artisan Cannolis in the Lower East Side has apple pie, pumpkin pie, and eggnog flavored Italian style cannolis. Other flavors include root beer float, peanut butter and jelly, and peaches and creme. A dozen Mini Cannolis is $18, or try one for yourself for $2.

Themed Cookies

Eleni’s cookie and cupcake shop, located at both the Chelsea Market and the Upper East Side, decorates cookies for every occasion, including Thanksgiving. Intricately decorated turkeys, scarecrows, and other harvest-themed cookies are available for the season. Eleni even makes a “Turkey Dinner” set, with cookies shaped like every item to complete the holiday meal. For future reference, the bakery  has sweets for “Oscar Season,” decorated with celebrity faces.

Wine

My usual go-to item to bring to a gathering, thanks to the Trader Joe’s Wine Shop. Not only is there a giant selection of delicious wines from around the world, but the prices are low. The New York Times suggests having both a red and a white at the table to please a variety of drinkers. They recommend trying a 2007 sauvignon blanc from BV Coastal Estates, but I recommend a 2007 pinot grigio “Bear’s Lair,” with notes of honey and apricot.

Pie

Nothing is better than finishing off a turkey dinner with a thick slice of pie. Be the pie hero at your dinner this year with one of these options. Just make sure to order early! Blue Smoke, a BBQ restaurant located just around the corner from Besen Retail on E 27th Street, boasts their famous Bourbon-Pecan pie. For a twist on the traditional apple pie, go for the Apple Galette, which is more tart-like, at Balthasar on 80 Spring Street.

-Caitlin

Be Doing 2009 (Original Mix) – Ascion. Minimal/Tech house track, highly recommended.

TECH HOUSE

The Tree Dance – Tom Budden. An all-time favorite of many people, just amazing.

La Puneta (Original Mix) – Kobbe, Balthazar, Jackrock. Love this song, especially at the drop where you hear that deep laugh.

Shonky (Paul Ritch Remix) – Time Zero. Check this one out, dropped by Funkagenda.

Saxtrack (Feeling Dub Mix) – Sebo K & Metro.

Low Pressure (Original Mix) – Audiofly X. A sick song, its a bit old but still a crazy track.

dont forget to comment

Balthazar. een West-Vlaamse jongerenband die na het winnen van de Kunstbende, België verovert.

Alain Ducasse Judges New York’s French Fries

Finally put up a curtain in my room— so I don’t have to hide in the corner to dress.  I also purchased a new set of sheets, which are organic apparently.  I just thought they seemed both soft and shiny.

Quiet night… well, for a Saturday. The apartment is just me this weekend.  But I have filled it not only with a newly curtained and sheeted room, but with delicious wine and cheese and portobello baked with paprika, cayenne, and turmeric (and of course evoo, salt, and pepper).  The mushroom was delectable… obviously—-the wine was Gewurztraminer, so of course it’s good.  Actually, this one was a bit sweeter than I prefer, but still tasty.  It’s from Chile.  Unfortunately the sweetness makes it really really easy to drink large amounts in short periods of time.  Cheese=delish.  mmmm.  I got a cheese called ODRE from the cheese market this week.  The cheese market being Brooklyn Larder, which is an amazing shop.  They have a wonderful selection of imports.

Speaking of imports, I have this clotted cream sitting in my fridge.  It’s lonely and desiring of scones. But I really don’t know where to go out an get good scones.  I’m sure there are at least a couple decent scone bakeries in Brooklyn or within a reasonable vicinity, but I have yet to discover them.

Discoveries… I discovered a little coffee shop this morning. It is super nearby.  It is called Breukelen Coffee Shop (not sure I spelled the first word correctly–apparently the original spelling of Brooklyn—hmmm).  They have yummy cheaper-than-Starbucks-coffee.  AND… wait for it.

BALTHAZAR baked goods/pastries.  They have baguettes, croissants, etc.  (I am searching for English scones, not french scones–unfortunately)  But the discovery of this adorable petit cafe was a treat this morning.   Apparently, they opened up shop yesterday.  I look forward to frequenting it.

All in all–a good day.

ooh, Thursday is dinner at my grandparents, ie best night ever! seriously.  It’s the best.  You wish you had my grandparents.

..went here yesterday.. http://www.balthazarny.com/

on Spring St in the middle of SoHo.. had to wait 45 minutes to get a table but it was worth it.. it was nice just sitting outside the restaurant after some extensive shopping in greenwich village,  Soho and Chinatown..

Good Morning!

I’m so full In a good way… I think.

I went out for dinner last night, was so stuffed afterwards, and then proceeded to make myself a large bowl of oatmeal this morning, which I did not need, but I was craving it! 
Anywho, onto dinner last night -

Balthazar

I have heard many great things about Balthazar, a French bistro in Soho. It is rated as one of the top restaurants in NYC and it was definitely near the top of my list of “must check out” restaurants.

The bf and I happened to walk by it the other day and I mentioned that I really wanted to go there. And, being the sweet guy that he is, surprised me with a reservation there for last night. Aww.

I usually don’t go out to eat on Monday’s… or any weekday’s actually… but for this, I happily made an exception.

Once we walked inside, we were seated right away. No waiting, unlike a lot of other well-known NYC restaurants.
It was really neat inside, the atmosphere was great, I felt energized just being in there.

I didn’t get to snap a picture of the inside, but here’s one from the website.

I wasn’t planning on having wine on a Monday, but I figured, I should go for it as Balthazar is known for it’s wine list.

 
I ordered a small glass of the Bordeaux Superieur Château de Lugagnac ‘06 – a Cabernet Sauvignon.
I’m not super knowledgeable on wines (I’d love to learn more), but I enjoyed this glass.

 
The bf and I split a slice of whole wheat bread with a bit of butter.

For my appetizer I ordered a tomato and goat cheese salad. You can’t really see but there were both red and yellow tomatoes in there. And a HUGE blob of goats cheese. I ate all the tomatoes and about 1/3 of the goats cheese. Delish.

The bf ordered a bowl of cheeeeesey french onion soup which i had a bite off. AMAZING.

And for my main I got the Moules Frites (mussels and fries).

 .

The. Mussels. Were. So. Good.  Probably because of the rich and buttery broth. I used the other half of the bread to dip in the broth. (That’s my favourite part about mussels) And wow, I could have just had the broth and been satisfied!

I ate as many of the mussels as I could (maybe a little over half… there were SO many!) , lots of the broth, and had a few of my fries (the bf stole a couple as well even though he had his own ).

For his main, the bf ordered the steak frites. Steak is his favourite food (I know… I wish it wasn’t!). But he was very happy with his meal. And he actually doesn’t eat steak that often. So this was a nice treat for him. Especially because he’s not feeling well.

Overall I was impressed with Balthazar. Obviously the company made it that much better But the waitress was great, the service was quick and the food was very good.

Believe me, I always give honest reviews. I’m not just saying it was great because of the hype! I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Thanks bf for taking me!

Oatmeal Time

This morning I felt like I hadn’t had oatmeal in a while. And was craving a reallly creamy bowl. I had McCann’s Irish Oatmeal  in the cupboard, which always turns out suuuper creamy.

So I whipped up a bowl of banana oats, even though I was definitely still full from dinner.

 
1/3 cup McCann’s Irish Oats, 2/3 cup water, half of a SUPER ripe banana, a big sprinkling of cinnamon and a big blob of Blue Diamond AB

So creamy. Just what I was looking for.

Alright, I’m off to study for the rest of the day.

Have a great Tuesday!

_____________________________________________
NYC Tidbit of the Day -
According to Grub Street New York, a “market” of sorts will open up in Madison Square Park from October 9 through November 1 from 11 a.m. till 8 p.m. daily with food and non-food vendors alike.
Among the food vendors: Hill Country, Wafels & Dinges, Breezy Hill Orchard, Ben & Jerry’s, and more!

Do you like any? any suggestions?

Milo Constantine

Milo Thomas George

Milo Alexander

Milo August James

Milo Jasper

Milo Balthazar

Milo Emmanuel

Milo Theodore

Milo Bartholomew

Milo Isidore

Milo Kahurangi

Milo Evander

Milo Peregrine

Milo Raphael

Milo Russell

Milo Vincente

Milo Aurelius

Milo Bernard

Milo Steven

Milo Benjamin

På Engelsk

Hvem som så børne tv i 70erne kan ikke huske Professor Balthazar. Denne lave smarte mand, med den catchy sang Balt-balt balthazar – osv. Så når man går ind et pub en bar med dette navn, og professoren som logo, bliver man jo varm om hjertet.

Man kommer ind i et stort og flot lokale – eller kunde været.  Der er flot mahogni på væggene, flotte bænke og en flot bar.  Men alt bliver ødelagt af den skingrende røde farve som er på vægge, bænke og til og med i loftet. Tror ikke professoren ville kunne tænke her.

Venlig betjening, med billige øl.  Dette stedet havde få besøgere så atmosfæren var ikke noget specielt.  Kan den være farven som går det?

Der er pladser udenfor, som også ser hyggelig ud.  Du finder professoren her:

Dagens Beer Quote:
“Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza.”

-Dave Barry

På Dorsk

If you were young in the 70ies, you might remember the children TV-series Professor Balthazar. This short smart man, with the catchy song “Balt, Balt Balthazar”. So when you enter a pub with this name, and the professor as a logo, you get in a good mood.

You enter big and nice premises – or it could have been. There are mahogany on the walls, nice benches and bar. But everything is ruined by the screaming “post” red color on the walls, benches and even the ceiling. Don’t think the professor would be able to think here!

The service is good, and there are cheap beers. There were few visitors so the atmosphere was not all that.  Maybe because of the color?

There are places to sit outside, and it looks cozy. You find the professor here:

Today’s Beer Quote:
“Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza.”

-Dave Barry

Lots of links on this post. I’ve also decided that, hitherto, most of my posts have been media-less. Henceforth, let the pictures commence.

A subject which I have neglected somewhat (though it is never quite far from my mind) is The Alexandria Quartet. As anyone who has spoken to me for five minutes in Egypt will tell you, I am an avid fan; I’d go even to the point of calling it the “lost” work of modernist English literature (move aside, Henry Miller).

To this end, I’ve built an entirely new addition to the site, and hopefully will be adding different links as work progresses on various Durrell-themed pursuits: I’m working on a map of the city with old place names, more pictures, and a quote-themed roadmap. I’ll also try putting up more of LD’s contemporaries (Cavafy, Forster) as things pile up and connect everyone to other wartime writings. Be sure to check regularly, as this hobby borderlines on obsession, and I’m sure to have more up within the week (courtesy here of eid).

I spent the afternoon wandering around a crowded Manshaya and Mahattat ar-Ramleh, snapping pictures and trying to echo some photographs I found on the very helpful Facebook group, The Memory of Modern Egypt, which also has links at the Library (sorry, Arabic). So far, I’ve uploaded a number of photos from the 1940’s (courtesy of the Bibliotheca) and a few companion pieces from my own adventures today to show you how the city’s changed since LD’s day.

Eid mubarak, everyone, and thank God for the return of post-Ramadan normality!

Preparei uma listinha em ordem alfabética de todos os restaurantes que valem a pena! Se quiserem ler mais detalhes de cada um, basta dar digitar o nome no campo procura!

Bagatelle: 409 W 13th St – Meatpacking District

Balthazar: 80 Spring St. (esquina com a Crosby St.) – Soho

Barolo: 398 West Broadway – Soho

Bar Pitti: 268 Sixth Ave (a esquina do pitti é perpendicular com a Bleecker St.) – Village

Boqueria: 171 Spring St (entre a Thompson e a W Broadway) – Soho

Cipriani Downtown: 376 W Broadway New York (between Broome St & Spring St) – Soho

Da Silvano: 260 Sixth Ave – Village

David Burke – 133 east 61st Street (entre a Park e a Lexington)

Extra Virgin: 259 W 4th St – Village

Falai: 68 Clinton St

Le Bilboquet: 25 E. 63rd st. (entre Park e Madison Ave.) – Upper East Side

Lupa: 170 Thompson Street (between Houston St. and Bleecker St.) – Soho/Village

Megu: 62 Thomas st.

Minetta Tavern: 113 MacDougal Street (Between Bleecker & W. 3rd Street)

Morandi: 211 Waverly Place (esquina com Charles St.) – Village

Nobu: 40 W 57 th St. – Upper East Side

Otto Enoteca:1 Fifth Ave. (esquina com a 8th st.)

Pastis: 9 Ninth Ave. esquina com a 12th st. – Meatpacking District

Phillipe: 33 East 60th Street – Upper East Side

Rose Bar: 2 Lexington Ave (@ Gramercy Park Hotel) (between 22nd St & N Gramercy Park) Flatiron, Gramercy

Scalinatella: 201 E. 61st St. (entre 2nd e 3rd Ave.) – Upper East Side

Scarpetta: 355 W. 14 th St. (quase esquina com a Ninth Ave.), Chelsea.

Serafina: 29 East 61st street (between Park and Madison Ave) – Upper East Side

Spice Market: 403 W. 13th St.- Meatpacking District

Standard Grill: Washington St., 846, Meatpacking District

Waverly Inn: 16 Bank St. at Waverly Place.

We witnessed about 80 firemen checking out a "partial building collapse". One guy was working, climbing a ladder, and the others were watching him. Not many fires on a Tuesday apparently.

Aki, Susan, Andrea and me at Balthazar!

The dance floor at Marquée. We saw a guy that looked just like Lil Bow Wow. (But it probably wasn't him. Not that we really care. Anyway.)

They had a cute stamp.

The guy making our drinks was completely hopeless and we were getting up early the next day so these drinks were mostly accessories.

This is the ladies bathroom. They had everything in there! Candy, perfume, hairspray and a lady handing you paper towels and giving you soap. (That is when service goes too far.) Do the guys get a lot of stuff too? We have no idea.

We have some more pictures from today, we will upload them later. Tonight we are on the list for Pink Elephant. Table service there starts at approximately 13 000 SEK which is disgusting in a rather interesting way. Wonder what the DJ is like.

Food report- so this is when I realized that I have too much time on my hands…

9.00: a bowl of cereal/ coffee.

11.00: Balthazar’s apple galette, sooooo heavely!

1.30: A huge bowl of Udon noodles + Shrimp and fried Bokchoy.+ After meal coffee.

4.30: Another cup of coffee + home made Tiramisu (1 strawberry+ 1 Amaretto)

mmmmh yummy water- see my face is already getting bigger by the seconds!

6.30: Octopus Takoyaki from Okonomiyaki on 9th, off from 2nd ave.

What is Takoyaki?

More about Okonomiyaki…

HAHA- What can I say but today’s been a good day! xxx

Il faut voir ce film de Roger Boire et Jean-Pierre Roy présenté hier soir 31 août au Festival des films du monde.  Le film prendra l’affiche du Cinéma de l’ONF du 17 au 22 septembre prochains.

Il y a vingt angles sous lesquels on peut aborder la critique objective technique et artistique d’un film, dont aucun, hélas, à partir duquel je deviendrais un observateur compétent. Je laisserai cette tâche à d’autres.  Totale subjectivité, donc, de ce que je veux en dire.  Subjectivité qui n’est pas simplement narcissisme, cependant, parce que  je pense que beaucoup s’y reconnaîtront.  Ce film m’a fait beaucoup de  peine.

Il m’ a imposé un deuil nécessaire.  Pour les gens de mon âge – adultes en 1960  – l’Indépendance du Québec a été le projet qui politiquement nous a définis. Définis si complètement, que nous avons transmis aux générations qui nous ont suivis, la première déjà vieillissante, une vision en blanc et noir d’un avenir que, naturellement, la réalité a ensuite révélée en demi-teintes.  Une vision simpliste d’un monde compliqué.  Le deuil pour moi a commencé à l’enterrement de Bourgault (voir l’image) et se termine avec ce film.

Douloureux, car ce film nous oblige à lever le voile avec pudeur et à identifier la reine morte, mais Il FAUT le faire.  Ceux de ma génération qui se sont impliqués dans cette aventure – nous étions nombreux hier, à cette première, de ceux qui en restent  – ont la responsabilité d’encourager l’autopsie. Ce n’est pas une vivisection.

Les politologues, Balthazar en tête, nous ont fourni des explications bien plausibles pour le fiasco final de la quête pour l’indépendance.  On en trouvera sans doute bien d’autres, mais il est important d’accepter la plus fondamentale : si la jeune fille n’est pas devenue femme, c’est surtout parce qu’ELLE NE LE VOULAIT PAS.

Il eut été gratifiant de la séduire, mais ce n’était pas ce qu’elle voulait.  Au lieu de l’accuser d’inappétence ou de s’accuser de ne pas l’avoir prise, le moment est peut-être venu de se féliciter d’avoir respecté son choix plutôt que d’être passé à la violence. Les Québécois ne voulaient pas un pays. Il se sont perçus dans un autre rôle. Peut-on vraiment prétendre qu’on les aime et les vouloir si différents ?

Les Québécois se sont créé un autre destin ; le défi est maintenant qu’ils s’y complaisent et s’y réalisent. On peut regretter que le Québec n’ait pas vécu les affres et les joies d’une indépendance politique à l’âge où « tout le monde le faisait », mais ne tombons pas dans le piège de vouloir  le faire trop tard. On ne s’amuserait pas et l’on n’y grandirait pas. Le temps des nations est fini ; nous sommes à celui des cultures.

Le film de Boire et Roy ouvre la porte a une entomologie de la psyché des Québécois de la fin du vingtième siècle, mais il a aussi la subtile délicatesse de la remettre dans un contexte qui nous fait sentir moins étranges.  Car il est hors de doute que les Écossais diront non et les Catalans aussi.  Les premiers verront qu’ils ne pourraient partir qu’en abandonnant la dot du pétrole, les seconds que l’Espagne est un bon tapis vert où optimiser leurs mises. Ils attendront l’autonomie accrue qui échoira inévitablement aux régions dans la construction européenne.

Évidemment, Écosse et Catalogne ne sont pas, bien au contraire, les parents pauvres des États respectifs où l’Histoire les a mises en tutelle… mais  serions-nous ceux de l’Amérique, si nous mettions tous nos efforts à devenir plus et mieux  ?  Avoir les oripeaux d’un État a été un désir légitime  pour une nation, mais c’était hier. Avant que chacun dépende de tous… Si vraiment, Québécois, nous nous sentons une nation et que ce désir d’indépendance  a été frustré, le temps est venu de lâcher l’ombre pour la proie et d’apporter une réponse collective – NATIONALE – aux défis d’aujourd’hui.   Ce film devrait encourager cette réflexion.

Pierre JC Allard

Okay, so it’s no secret – I am a sheltered Durban ‘Indian’ girl with not much of a sense of what South Africa is really like. Sure enough, I have travelled, but the South Africa I have been seeing over the last six months has turned my perception of my beautiful Land on its head. Oppikoppi is no different.

Firstly, my Afrikaans sucks monkey balls. Whatever I thought I knew about the language is laughable.

Secondly, I am not a seasoned camper, as I initially thought.

Thirdly, I don’t know nearly as much about South African music as I should. For fuck’s sake…I didn’t even know Fokof-aKing-Van Coke are all pretty much the same band!

Welcome to Oppikoppi

The drive, although a sleepy one, is quite jarring for me, culturally. All the signs are in Afrikaans and the dryness doesn’t help my befuddled state of mind. The only source of amusement is Kosta’s driving, Murray’s dry sense of humour and the arbitrary side-of-road signboard, one of which has a big white arrow and read “Best Blerrie Brekvis”.

Driving around the farm, I stick out like a wart. An Indian at Oppi. Not a common sight. In fact, I think I am the only one there.

Going giddig-giddig around the dirt road, we struggle to find our designated camping site. The sights we encountered are classic. Beer cans hang from trees; cars with “OppiKoppi” painted on the sides or etched into the dust. Asking for directions is hopeless.

Murray: Do you know where the fuck we are, dude?

Random: You’re at Oppi fuckin’ kopi!

Murray: Okay then…

Beer cans in a tree - A tradition of Oppi

Arriving at Oppi, the first thought that comes to mind is to compare it to Splashy Fen. Oppi is so different, the two festivals could be seen as being held on two different planets. Splashy is hippy, esoteric and has the whole one-with-love-nature-and-music vibe.

Oppi is just one fuckoff big party. With tents. Big tents.

We have a pink tent. Much to Murray’s dissatisfaction and my amusement. Putting it up isn’t hard but when you have two Capetonians around (who, if they were more laid back would be moving backwards); it becomes a mission to get things done quickly. We barely manage to get the campsite set up before sunset.

The sunset over the farm - a stunning sight to behold.

As the light fade, the bands emerge and the beauty of the camaraderie of a festival surfaces. The setup of the festival is seamless. It’s intimate, but not pervasive. Each stage is separated enough for the crowds to appreciate whichever band they were watching at the time and close enough to walk to without stumbling over rocks and suffering a concussion. Well, for the most part. And the beer tent is central. Awesome.

That first night, aside from one tequila making me tipsy, I am kind of drunk on the vibe. The Black Hotels, Bed on Bricks and Crash Car Burn are their usual selves. Who impresses me is Reeburth, a rock band out of Soweto. They are young, a bit immature, maybe and they need to develop a style which is their own but it’s early days for them. They will get there.

Reeburth - Impressive stuff!

The night ends on a high with the good conversation seeing us through till 3am. And this is only day one.

———

The festival takes on a very different feel after a night of sleeping on the ground. You get up to the sound of guitars, djembes, people doing their morning routines and a very welcome, cold beer.

The winter sun shines arum white and gold over the farm as we make our way up to the main stage area. It’s a meeting of old friends, making new ones and slowly deteriorates into a piss-up. The smell of greasy food, pot and beer hangs in the air and starts to cling to your clothes.

It’s as if time stands still, reality is suspended and the outside world has ceased to exist.

Happiness is a cold beer and warm friends

Walking around with friends and beer is always a must. Armed with camera, sun block and beer, we set out on a mission – to find the party. Or for the party to find us. This results in shots on the koppi, meeting a few Dutchmen who try to dance to Bollywood songs but fail miserably and chilling around campsites belonging to total strangers.

I even climb a tree to take a picture of a guy sleeping on a couch in a tree. Clambering like an orang-utan, I manage to make it up to the middle of the tree. I settle in on the most comfortable spot I can find and start clicking away. And then I hear a crack. Silence. Crack. Holy shit. Thud. Into the campfire below. Ow.

Arb man in tree almost cost me my limbs!

I manage not to get burned and dust myself off. The things I do for a story.

As the bands pull in, we trek to watch them. I realise that I can never truly appreciate Afrikaans music like Van Coke Kartel because of my lack of understanding – not just of the language itself but the culture too. The actual music is great, though and I can appreciate that. I used to think of Afrikaans music as sokkie treffers. Not so. In fact, as one proverbial Afrikaner man with breasts larger than mine in the crowd explains lyrics to me, I begin to see how poetic the language can be.

Van Coke Kartel: I actually enjoyed this!

I have such mad love for South Africa but never before have I felt like such an outsider. Like I have no place in between Mandoza and Koos Kombuis. The only reason songs like Johnny is Nie Dood Nie and Lisa Se Klavier have any resonance in my life is because of the memories attached to them.

Koos Kombuis: Legendary

The evening brings on the chills and a line-up of bands which make me shiver in my boots from excitement. Durban band, The Arrows blows the crowd away and that is just the start of it. Taxi Violence delivers a performance nothing short of their usual standard. Foto Na Dans are epic. Their theatrical style and larger-than-life lighting and stage presence make their performance one I will never forget. If only I understood the bloody lyrics!

Foto Na Dans: Almost as epic as Knights of Cydonia!

My pick of the day, however, is Belgian act, Balthazar. In fact, not much could top their performance. They are energetic and slick. Their sound is rich and they are going to go places. Even though their spoken English is broken and hilarious to listen to, their lyrics are contemporary and fun. They are just a great band.

———

Sunday morning brings on the first signs of liver failure. Crawling out of the tent, it feels as if I am going to die. Surely this is hell.

A cold shower manages to do the trick of waking me up and the prospect of a blockbuster line-up for the day is motivation enough to leave the campsite.

Touring the facility. Following Murray isn't easy - I'm scared of heights!

The Shadowclub is the first band I pay attention to. I have already described them as being heavy, but not unbearable; emotional, but not too whiney and pretty much a kick-back to a time when mainstream rock was good. This time, their performance was great but they showed signs of becoming cocky.

The Shadowclub: Sleazy rock which I like a lot, aside from the hot lead singer

The afternoon brings in Dutch band, Voicst. There’s also Ashtray Electric and Josie Field. Voicst are impressive. This three-piece indie band sound like they stumbled upon the fact that they were all great musicians and decided to make music just for the laughs. And they’re doing it bloody well so far. Rolling Stone describes them as “potent power pop-rock that wipes enough fashion-punk snot in your ears to keep things from sounding sanitized”.

My ears should be used to this by now but the constant shouting “Oppiiiiiiiiiiiii”, and some other lost mofo on the other side of the farm shouting back “Koppiiiiiiiii” still makes me jump.

The crowd oppi koppi

Listening to the silken-voiced Josie Field is a magical experience. She mesmerises with the simplicity of her music and her powerful vocals. She is aesthetically pleasing in every way and the sun melting into the horizon behind her is the perfect accompaniment to her performance.

Ah, Josie. She's just stunning in every way

I haven’t seen much of The Tidal Waves before but I definitely will be seeing more and more of them. They aren’t your usual reggae band. They use more than one drum beat and bass line. They’re undoubtedly talented but live, they are phenomenal. They rock out, get the crowd rocking out and the response from the audience screaming for an encore is proof of their mastery.

If The Dirty Skirts don’t make it big internationally, there is no hope for music. Aside from their larger-than-life stage presence and showmanship, the music is nothing short of magnificent.

The Dirty Skirts: Rolling like thunder

Interviewing kidofdoom is a highlight. Watching them is even better. As a live act, they are shoe-gazing and they let the music speak for itself. They wear jeans, worn-out sneakers and sweaters, and say no more than seven words to the crowd.

They don’t really need to. Their epic guitar riffs, maniacal drumming, deep-space bass and classic John Williams-inspired keys do all the talking. “We also have awesome lighting so we don’t look like such nerds,” says lead guitarist, Ryk Benade.

Barend: The one with the cute smile

Let me not talk about Zebra & Giraffe. I am biased. I love this band way too much.

Zebra & Giraffe: I know every word to every song!

I haven’t seen The Parlotones live for about a year after seeing every single one of their gigs in Durban since 2006. They are masterful. But they don’t pitch up for my interview and I am pissed off. They are currently working on a new album and by the sound of the new songs they play, it’s classic Parlotones.

The Parlotones: Classic!

I finally understand why “Par-tie, par-tie, par-tie, par-tie, hosssaaaaaaaaaaa!” is a line which people scream constantly. Die Antwoord’s Doos Dronk, permeates the air and all I can think of before joining in is “WTF?”

Now, Fokofpolisiekar have been a bone of contention in my knowledge of South African music. I never paid much attention to them and this has been a kind of pitfall in my appreciation for Afrikaans music. This time, however, I give them a good listen. It is in the middle of the crowd and with good friends explaining songs to me that I feel as if I were part of something greater than I have known for a long time. I learnt the term ‘gees’ this weekend and this is exactly what I feel watching Fokof.

The crowd for Fokof: I was surrounded!!!!

The rest of the night ensues with drinking, hearing guitars and singing around campfires and even seeing the drummer from Zebra & Giraffe passed out on the grass. As sleep comes over me, I feel a sense of belonging.

———

Leaving is never a happy feeling, as much as I want a shower and my bed. I leave Oppi with a new sense of what South Africa is and what South African music means to me. This is my first time at the greatest music festival in our beautiful country. It definitely won’t be the last.

We get up to the smell of chunda, old braai and wood fire. Packing up is harder than setting up as things don’t fit into bags, tents don’t roll up as they should and you end up stepping over casualties of the weekend like broken beer bottles and other people who you once knew to be sober.

The drive home brings on bad food from the Pick n Pay in Brits, warm coke and a snooze. Getting home and showering is a feeling beyond my wildest dreams at that point.

Sleep is on the agenda. Here’s to a great Oppi fuckin’ koppi!

As elites do Brasil ficam alucinadas Balthazar.

Os  americanos que moram na Tribo de Lula amam  Caldo de Cana e pastel  da rodoviária.

Agora, o Balthazar deve passar a  ser o “point” da Capital Federal.

Para os brasileiros, que são conhecidos como miseráveis,  no Balthazar os clientes  dão , no mínimo, 25%  do total da conta  de gorjeta.