Frank again serves me Fruestueck on the balcony when I awake. The plan is for me to meet Thor and Ragnar at the main train station (Hauptbahnhof) to journey to Leipzig. Frank will pick up Alex from Vienna at the airport, and also collect two other friends from Berlin, then drive down. Frank drops me of at the eastern train station (Ostbahnhof) to save some time and because it is easier to park. He guides me to the ticket counter, and I tell him I can handle it from here… Should have had him wait, as you will see. At the ticket counter, I book a ride from Berlin Hauptbahnhof to Leipzig. I catch the S-Bahn to the main station and reach for my phone (actually two cell phones banded together) to see where Thor and Ragnar are waiting. I don’t have it! In a panic, I call Frank from a payphone and ask him to check his car and go back to the apartment. Then I remember showing the phones to the ticket clerk because I could not explain which train I wanted and she did not speak English. I call Frank back to let him know he should carry on, and I will try to recover my phone (or handy as they are called in Germany). The train for Leipzig leaves in about an hour. I wait 10 minutes for the next train back to Ostbahnhof. Racing from the platform to the ticket office, I am out of breath and sweaty. I cut the line to go to the window where I left my phones, but there is a different person at the window. A uniformed clerk tells me I have to wait in line, but I explain I am looking for two handys, one green and one blue, that I left there 40 minutes ago. They direct me to the Service Point counter out in the plaza. There are a few people ahead of me in the line at the Service Point, and I feel time slipping away. The clerk there is taking her time, and is ignoring my visible agitation. When my turn comes, I describe the two Blackberry phones (the blue one is my US phone and receives my email, the green one is a pre-paid European phone). She gets them from the locker, and then demands my passport and starts filling out reams of paperwork! She won’t even hand me the phones until the forms are signed and filed. Her associate looks at me like I am an idiot. Finally, I get back on the S-Bahn and join Thor and Ragnar on the platform at Hauptbahnhof with minutes to spare. We meet in the club car for a couple of beers and enjoy the hour-long train ride to Leipzig. We split up in the middle of town, the Norwegians heading to their luxury hotel, and me to my next youth hostel, The Sleepy Lion. I check in, rent the bedding and make my bed. The place looks nice, but I know I will barely see it, as I am off to meet the rusties and go see Neil, and will be back late tonight. I walk through town, mostly in the wrong direction, and admire the architecture. Once I realize I am lost I get directions back towards the Arena and the restaurant where we are supposed to meet. I am wearing bad shoes and my feet hurt. I can not find the restaurant, the street number doesn’t seem to exist. There is a place with a similar name but it is closed. Waiting outside the arena, I buy a beer from a cart and send text to Frank. He is with some of our friends on the other side of the arena at a table, and I join them. I warmly greet my friend Alex from Vienna, and some of the others I remember from last year at the German Rustfest, like Andreas and Rainer. Kalle and Sabrina from Munich are here, and I remember Kalle well as he has been to the Rustfest in California the last two years. I meet the very funny Alexander from Berlin and am pleased to make his acquaintance. Before long we queue up and wait to get inside. It starts to rain and the crowd makes humorous shouts to the security that I don’t understand, but everyone is laughing and jostling together. At last the door opens and we rush to the center, about the equivalent of four rows back. Rainer kindly holds my bag and some space while I relieve myself, and I stand with him and Frank for the show. It’s only been a few months since I last saw Neil (in London) but I am very giddy. The opening band is terrible, pretty-boy pop stuff. They try to get the audience to sing along to a “yeah, yeah, yeah” but all they get is “no, no, no” and a lot of heckling. Neil comes on at last, and I love being so close to the stage for his performances. The music is fantastic, but my feet hurt so I take my shoes off and put them in my bag. I have my camera and record a few videos and take some stills. Highlights include the cover of Dylan's All Along the Watchtower, the rarely performed (until this summer) Get Back to The Country, and Words. I am most excited to see him play the encore he debuted a couple weeks ago: the Beatles’ A Day In The Life. Even though I watched a video of this performed in Madrid a week ago, it is exciting and fresh and makes me feel glad I made the effort to be here to witness this.
After the show, we car-pool to an Irish pub called KillyWilli, or something like that. My friends from Stuttgart are all there: Peter and Claudia with their daughter Bettina, Jan, and the wonderful Martin and Bettina (who are driving me to Oberhausen tomorrow). I am warmly greeted by all, and encouraged by Peter to come to the German Rustfest at their house this weekend. I had originally planned to attend, but am going to Lisbon instead. We drink and share food, I show off my videos, and Peter and I talk about some of our mutual friends in Seattle. I stay until the very end with the Stuttgart contingent – we take off in taxis, and Jan (who had lived in Leipzig before) shares one with me. I quietly crawl up into my bunk-bed and catch some ZZZZs. |
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