Principle photography of the European portion is done. Awww yeah.
My new Duisburg friend Dirk showed me an awesome old steel factory that’s been converted into some sort of adventure park- the huge stonewalls are used for rock climbing classes, the giant cooling tanks have been converted into diving wells (15m deep), and the towering smokestacks give just about the perfect view of the industrial landscape. While photographing the smokestack skyline, we got caught in a downpour. No problem. I’m at the point where I can afford an extra day or so to wait out the rain.
Christoph returned from his holiday in Holland, and I moved my things to Dirk’s. (His place is bigger… and no joke, Christoph’s got an entire band scheduled to sleep on his couch. He said I’m welcome to stay too, but Christ, he’s got a one bedroom place and one couch… the band is 4 dudes plus two girlfriends).
Anyway… Dirk and I were hanging out on the balcony when I mentioned my fading guitar calluses. It’s a shame; as a beginner, it took me months to build those up, and now they’re almost all gone. That’s when Dirk said four magic words: ‘I have a guitar.’
Hallelujah
There isn’t anything I love more than playing music.
…But don’t worry- I wasn’t that duchebag who just starts strumming in the living room while everyone’s forced to listen.
The Duisburg library has a music room …with a grand piano. So the next day, we took the guitar. And the day after that, we did the same thing. Nothing fancy. In fact, Dirk didn’t even know how to play piano; I just showed him a couple chords (which he picked up surprisingly fast), and we played. ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane,’ ‘Sloop John B,’… all the hits.
The Duisburg rain passed, and when the sun came out, I rode around town one last time to get some pictures in the blue sky.
Movie- check.
On my last night in town, Christoph and I went to see that French band that was sleeping on his couch. They were playing at a bar down the street near the University of Duisburg-Essen. And, small world, we met up with a Pakistani guy who went to Michigan State. Crazy. He graduated a couple years ago and he’s here in Duisburg doing some post-grad work. Reminiscing about East Lansing is always a good time.
But back to the music…
I’m not going to talk it up too much, but ho-ly shit. These boys brought it. Experimental sounds, catchy riffs, and an energy like… shit, I don’t know what it was, but it was awesome- it’s like they steam-rolled the audience with a freight train of tribal percussion and driving synth. But as I walked away with the CD in my pocket, I was already anticipating the disappointment; there’s no way a producer at their level could capture even an ounce of that on an album.
And I was right. Oh well. Here’s a link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICKLMJCfLOY
Keep an eye out in the future. Those boys are going places.
So am I. I’m off to Paris today.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Grand Torino and the Mystic Ruhr River
As the home of Fiat manufacturing, Torino was once called “the Detroit of Italy.” But unlike Detroit, Torino has money. Their closed factories have been converted into public parks, bustling shopping centers, and condos where people actually live. It’s amazing. And while they spend a considerable amount embracing the architecture of their manufacturing past, they’re also deeply rooted in medieval Italian history. As the first capital of the nation, they’ve got castles, a 1,000-year old monastery, and a city gate dating back to 25 BC. This adventurer’s paradise also has four rivers, snow capped mountains on three sides, and the 2006 Olympic stadiums. Yes, it certainly is an undiscovered treasure. But as my host Antonello explained, since it’s so far from the typical destinations (Rome, Venice, Florence), not many tourists know about it.
Antonello and Debra are a couch surfing couple who put me up for two nights. Along with showing me where I can take the best photos, they also introduced me to the best places for gelato, beer, and real Italian pizza. The sky was cloudier than I would’ve liked for pictures, but at least the next wave of thunderstorms held off until my departure.
Another long journey…
The train up the Ruhr River to Duisburg, Germany was going to take about twelve hours. But as the tracks wound through the lakeside villages and foggy mountains of Switzerland, I stared out the window and watched the lightning kinda not wanting it to be over.
Like any other city where I don’t know anyone, I had contacted a couch surfer to stay with in Duisburg. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be staying, so I asked for three nights – plenty of time to photograph the closed factories along the Ruhr– and a guy responded to my request, “No worries.”
I arrived at his small one-bedroom flat where we had some dinner, some beer… and then he said, “It’s a holiday this weekend, so I’m going to Holland tomorrow with friends.”
So… I guess I won’t stay three nights. But before I could respond, he stopped my train of thought, “but you can stay here- it’s no problem- I’ll give you the keys.”
Wow. I’d known this guy for about an hour. And now, I’ve got the place to myself. Of course, I need to do his dishes and take out the trash, but… wow.
He's even got a crap load of movies and a projector screen...
Antonello and Debra are a couch surfing couple who put me up for two nights. Along with showing me where I can take the best photos, they also introduced me to the best places for gelato, beer, and real Italian pizza. The sky was cloudier than I would’ve liked for pictures, but at least the next wave of thunderstorms held off until my departure.
Another long journey…
The train up the Ruhr River to Duisburg, Germany was going to take about twelve hours. But as the tracks wound through the lakeside villages and foggy mountains of Switzerland, I stared out the window and watched the lightning kinda not wanting it to be over.
Like any other city where I don’t know anyone, I had contacted a couch surfer to stay with in Duisburg. I didn’t know exactly how long I’d be staying, so I asked for three nights – plenty of time to photograph the closed factories along the Ruhr– and a guy responded to my request, “No worries.”
I arrived at his small one-bedroom flat where we had some dinner, some beer… and then he said, “It’s a holiday this weekend, so I’m going to Holland tomorrow with friends.”
So… I guess I won’t stay three nights. But before I could respond, he stopped my train of thought, “but you can stay here- it’s no problem- I’ll give you the keys.”
Wow. I’d known this guy for about an hour. And now, I’ve got the place to myself. Of course, I need to do his dishes and take out the trash, but… wow.
He's even got a crap load of movies and a projector screen...
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Destination: Zzzzzzzzlin
Fucking trains.
Nothing has been more stressful than leaving Łódź . Not just buying a ticket- I had to figure out where to go. I needed footage of more post-industrial cities, but which ones? …How will I get there? …How long should I spend there? …Should I be worried about all these thunderstorms moving through Europe? And on top of all this planning, I still had a ton to shoot in Łódź.
Finally, on my second to last night in town, I (with some remote assistance from Philip) came up with a plan.
From Łódź … I'd train north to Warsaw to catch the connection south to Zlin, Czech Republic. I’ll have about a day and a half to get the best pictures of Zlin. Then I’ll train to Brno, Czech to catch a flight to Milano, Italy where I can train to Torino and shoot there for a day or so. From Torino, I’ll fly to Brussels, Belguim where I’ll take a train east to Duisburg, Germany where I can see the cites of the Ruhr area.
And this is all gonna happen in one week.
I’ll admit, it’s a little overwhelming just writing it down. But all I had to do was stick to the plan. No room for error; no time for the ever-late “Oliver-time.” Michal had spent over an hour planning the first leg: Wake up at 7, walk to the train station near Łukasz's flat, buy a ticket to Otrokovice, Czech; I’d stop in Warsaw where I’d have fifteen minutes to change trains; and when I got to Otrokovice, I’d take the bus to Zlin. ETA: 8pm.
I woke up, packed, grabbed a coffee and made it to the train station early. Good start considering I only got four hours of sleep. I approached the counter and said,
“Bilet to Otrokovice.”
“Czech?”
“Tak (yes).”
“(polish, polish, polish, polish…)” She went on and on, and I had a feeling none of it was “coming right up” so I turned to the girl behind me in line for help. She translated. “You can’t buy international tickets from this station. You have to go to the other station in Łódź .”
…there’s another station? …I was told to come here. Fuck.
Okay. New plan: buy a ticket to Warsaw, I’ll have fifteen minutes to RUN to the ticket counter, buy my ticket for Otrokovice, and bolt for the train. I ran track in high school; I could make it, right?
Not a chance in hell.
I was stuck in Warsaw waiting for the next train… at 8pm…which put my ETA in Zlin somewhere around 4am.
With eight hours to kill, I stuffed my luggage in a train locker and found a nice patch of grass next to the hippies in the park. Listening to some Chad Valley tunes, staring up at the towering Palace of Culture and Science, I fell asleep. I needed this nap more than anything; maybe getting stranded wasn’t so bad. …until those thunderstorms rolled in.
A drop of water hit my nose… drops turned to rain; people ran for cover… I, on the other hand, couldn’t.
I have a system when sleeping in public with my valuables. Even though I had locked two of my three bags in the train locker, I don’t trust this camera anywhere but with me; it’s either around my neck or in my backpack at all times. So in case I fell asleep, I had looped my cable lock around my backpack and through my belt. It’s not as uncomfortable as it might sound, as long as I don’t change positions. When I was stranded in the Nairobi airport, I was able to get a full six hours this way. This time, the rain let me get about 40 minutes.
I scrambled awkwardly with the combination lock, stuffed my iPod in my bag, and scuffed on my shoes as I took off running. I found shelter in a coffee shop the rest of the afternoon where I caught up on e-mails and wished my mother a happy birthday 3 weeks late. (Yeah, like I said- Oliver-time).
I know- there’s nothing cute about forgetting my mother’s birthday. I’m a jerk and I deserve everything that’s coming to me. …like, all this stuff…
By the time I boarded the evening train I was completely exhausted. I just had to make sure I was awake at 3am so I could change trains and get to Zlin. ‘Stay awake Steve, stay awake Steve…’
I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to find the train stopped. I jerked up and looked out the window. It was the dead of night… just after 3am… and this was my stop. Eureka! The first good luck all day. …and then the train started moving.
Fuck.
I rode for another hour and got off at the next stop in some unknown village. Everything was closed; nowhere to eat, nowhere to get Czech currency, and the only toilet was a porta-potty that smelled like a rotting body. It was two hours until the next train back, so I curled up on the floor, locked all three bags to my belt Nairobi-style, and passed out.
I got into Zlin around 9am. I was beat, I was thirsty, I had to pee, and I was STARVING. I stopped at the first hotel I saw. …and it had a breakfast buffet!!!
“So… is the buffet free for guests?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Complimentary?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have to pay?”
“No.”
Suckers.
I wolfed down three bowls of cereal, two eggs, two sausages, a yogurt, two baguettes, two glasses of OJ, and an apple before heading up to my room.
“Can I take the coffee up to my room?”
“No.”
I don’t think she realized that I already had two eggs, two pastries, an apple and an orange stuffed into my cargo pants, but whatever. They can keep their coffee. I needed sleep anyway.
I squeezed in an hour nap, before meeting up with Kate- a couch surfer studying at Zlin’s Tomáš Baťa University. (Goddamn this site is useful). I told her the types of pictures I was looking for and she knocked it out of the park. First, she took me to a lookout point where I could get a view of the entire city, then we walked through the old factories, the new university developments, and she even wove in some historical city sites.
The entire city of Zlin was built around Baťa shoes. The founder Tomáš Baťa is sometimes called the Henry Ford of Europe. After much of the operations have been outsourced, the city is hoping to re-brand itself as a University town. The institution is only ten years old, so only time will tell if it’ll work.
It was a full day, and my legs were about to fall off. Kate took me to a restaurant where I filled up on typical heart-attack-on-a-plate Czech cuisine (meat and bread dumplings served with cranberries and whipped cream), then I passed out.
I had to wake up early the next day and head to Torino. And with three busses, a plane and a train to catch, I had a feeling I wasn’t gonna get much sleep on that journey either.
Nothing has been more stressful than leaving Łódź . Not just buying a ticket- I had to figure out where to go. I needed footage of more post-industrial cities, but which ones? …How will I get there? …How long should I spend there? …Should I be worried about all these thunderstorms moving through Europe? And on top of all this planning, I still had a ton to shoot in Łódź.
Finally, on my second to last night in town, I (with some remote assistance from Philip) came up with a plan.
From Łódź … I'd train north to Warsaw to catch the connection south to Zlin, Czech Republic. I’ll have about a day and a half to get the best pictures of Zlin. Then I’ll train to Brno, Czech to catch a flight to Milano, Italy where I can train to Torino and shoot there for a day or so. From Torino, I’ll fly to Brussels, Belguim where I’ll take a train east to Duisburg, Germany where I can see the cites of the Ruhr area.
And this is all gonna happen in one week.
I’ll admit, it’s a little overwhelming just writing it down. But all I had to do was stick to the plan. No room for error; no time for the ever-late “Oliver-time.” Michal had spent over an hour planning the first leg: Wake up at 7, walk to the train station near Łukasz's flat, buy a ticket to Otrokovice, Czech; I’d stop in Warsaw where I’d have fifteen minutes to change trains; and when I got to Otrokovice, I’d take the bus to Zlin. ETA: 8pm.
I woke up, packed, grabbed a coffee and made it to the train station early. Good start considering I only got four hours of sleep. I approached the counter and said,
“Bilet to Otrokovice.”
“Czech?”
“Tak (yes).”
“(polish, polish, polish, polish…)” She went on and on, and I had a feeling none of it was “coming right up” so I turned to the girl behind me in line for help. She translated. “You can’t buy international tickets from this station. You have to go to the other station in Łódź .”
…there’s another station? …I was told to come here. Fuck.
Okay. New plan: buy a ticket to Warsaw, I’ll have fifteen minutes to RUN to the ticket counter, buy my ticket for Otrokovice, and bolt for the train. I ran track in high school; I could make it, right?
Not a chance in hell.
I was stuck in Warsaw waiting for the next train… at 8pm…which put my ETA in Zlin somewhere around 4am.
With eight hours to kill, I stuffed my luggage in a train locker and found a nice patch of grass next to the hippies in the park. Listening to some Chad Valley tunes, staring up at the towering Palace of Culture and Science, I fell asleep. I needed this nap more than anything; maybe getting stranded wasn’t so bad. …until those thunderstorms rolled in.
A drop of water hit my nose… drops turned to rain; people ran for cover… I, on the other hand, couldn’t.
I have a system when sleeping in public with my valuables. Even though I had locked two of my three bags in the train locker, I don’t trust this camera anywhere but with me; it’s either around my neck or in my backpack at all times. So in case I fell asleep, I had looped my cable lock around my backpack and through my belt. It’s not as uncomfortable as it might sound, as long as I don’t change positions. When I was stranded in the Nairobi airport, I was able to get a full six hours this way. This time, the rain let me get about 40 minutes.
I scrambled awkwardly with the combination lock, stuffed my iPod in my bag, and scuffed on my shoes as I took off running. I found shelter in a coffee shop the rest of the afternoon where I caught up on e-mails and wished my mother a happy birthday 3 weeks late. (Yeah, like I said- Oliver-time).
I know- there’s nothing cute about forgetting my mother’s birthday. I’m a jerk and I deserve everything that’s coming to me. …like, all this stuff…
By the time I boarded the evening train I was completely exhausted. I just had to make sure I was awake at 3am so I could change trains and get to Zlin. ‘Stay awake Steve, stay awake Steve…’
I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to find the train stopped. I jerked up and looked out the window. It was the dead of night… just after 3am… and this was my stop. Eureka! The first good luck all day. …and then the train started moving.
Fuck.
I rode for another hour and got off at the next stop in some unknown village. Everything was closed; nowhere to eat, nowhere to get Czech currency, and the only toilet was a porta-potty that smelled like a rotting body. It was two hours until the next train back, so I curled up on the floor, locked all three bags to my belt Nairobi-style, and passed out.
I got into Zlin around 9am. I was beat, I was thirsty, I had to pee, and I was STARVING. I stopped at the first hotel I saw. …and it had a breakfast buffet!!!
“So… is the buffet free for guests?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Complimentary?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have to pay?”
“No.”
Suckers.
I wolfed down three bowls of cereal, two eggs, two sausages, a yogurt, two baguettes, two glasses of OJ, and an apple before heading up to my room.
“Can I take the coffee up to my room?”
“No.”
I don’t think she realized that I already had two eggs, two pastries, an apple and an orange stuffed into my cargo pants, but whatever. They can keep their coffee. I needed sleep anyway.
I squeezed in an hour nap, before meeting up with Kate- a couch surfer studying at Zlin’s Tomáš Baťa University. (Goddamn this site is useful). I told her the types of pictures I was looking for and she knocked it out of the park. First, she took me to a lookout point where I could get a view of the entire city, then we walked through the old factories, the new university developments, and she even wove in some historical city sites.
The entire city of Zlin was built around Baťa shoes. The founder Tomáš Baťa is sometimes called the Henry Ford of Europe. After much of the operations have been outsourced, the city is hoping to re-brand itself as a University town. The institution is only ten years old, so only time will tell if it’ll work.
It was a full day, and my legs were about to fall off. Kate took me to a restaurant where I filled up on typical heart-attack-on-a-plate Czech cuisine (meat and bread dumplings served with cranberries and whipped cream), then I passed out.
I had to wake up early the next day and head to Torino. And with three busses, a plane and a train to catch, I had a feeling I wasn’t gonna get much sleep on that journey either.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Confessions and Corrections
Last Friday, I danced. Without a drink in my hand.
It was Agnes’s birthday party, and we got back from Warsaw just in time. The driver she had hooked me up with was a guy she knew through couch surfer, and he was on his way to the party too. Of course, braving that drive just for a party doesn’t make this guy any ordinary couch surfer. He’s a couch surfing addict. …At least that’s what his business card says. No joke. It reads: “Couch Surfing Addict” with a picture of his smiling face. I guess there are worse things to be addicted to. Very interesting dude. And another prime example of the good-natured people in this hospitality network. I’m not looking forward to the day when a knife-wielding maniac logs on and ruins it the way he did American hitchhiking.
Agnes’s party was at her friend’s coffee shop. …a coffee shop that serves vodka. Cool little café decorated with artifacts from the days of communism. And like any cool coffee shop, it’s versatile- quaint café, rowdy bar, art gallery, and they even let a group of Ukrainian folk singers practice on Monday nights. (yeah, I got footage).
Vodka… dancing… high-fives (piątka!)… then Agnes pulls me in…
“Can I tell you something?”
“Uh… yes.”
“I’ve never randomly e-mailed a couch surfer like the way I did you.”
“…Really? Cuz I just assumed you did this all the time…”
“No…”
“Well, can I tell you something?”
“Okay…”
“You weren’t my only random e-mail. I got, like, four.”
“Oh…”
“But for some reason, yours was the only one I responded to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Destiny.”
“Probably.”
“Say ‘piątka.’”
“Piątka!”
Then we high-five’d. (My king-of-high-fives brother Brian would’ve been proud).
So Agnes and I are like ‘this’ now (*holding up crossed fingers).
For our next lunch together, she said, “okay, I’m finally gonna take you to a milk bar.”
…Apparently the place I earlier thought was a milk bar was not a milk bar. Milk bars are similar with their handwritten menus and old ladies who look like they’ve worked there for fifty years. …but just about everything in these dirt-cheap and dirt-y cafeterias look like it’s been there for fifty years. It’s like walking into 1961. And with 1961-like prices, it’s no surprise they’re still open.
Later in the week, Agnes introduced me to Sexmission (proper polish title: Seksmisja)- Poland’s favorite movie. Communism could never unite a country like this 80’s comedy. Everyone loves it. Everyone. But, confession: I didn’t. The fantastic plot is bogged down with poor comedic timing and slow development, not to mention any humorous nuances in the dialogue are unfortunately lost in translation. Sorry, Poland. Really glad I got to see it though. If you’re ever traveling in Poland, this film is an instant conversation starter.
The week wasn’t all lunches and sexmissions…
Agnes got me an interview with the author of “Były dancingi i grały orkiestry w mieście Łodzi” – a book reflecting on entertainment during communist times. (The girl’s got connections).
Luckily, I got to do more than just listen to some old man talk about history. Anna (an architectural student and friend of the Topografia peeps) showed me the closed factories. Not the ones used for art spaces and museums… the boarded up ones that say: “keep out” or “danger: unstable structure.” We’d climb in mission-impossible-style and make our way over the broken floorboards and through the heaps of dust. The only factory she wouldn’t go near is the one with “the dogs.” Good idea.
Then Anna (btw- it’s actually pronounced An-ya; very popular name here) hooked me up with one of her architectural professors to interview. I know the opinion of an architect seems a little excessive given the subject of the movie, but get this: one of his focuses is transportation infrastructure, and while he was talking about Lodz public funding for “road widening,” all I could think about was a proposed plan in Detroit for road downsizing.
One last confession: as my stay in Lodz winds down, I don’t feel so sad to say goodbye to everyone. I have this weird feeling it’s only temporary.
It was Agnes’s birthday party, and we got back from Warsaw just in time. The driver she had hooked me up with was a guy she knew through couch surfer, and he was on his way to the party too. Of course, braving that drive just for a party doesn’t make this guy any ordinary couch surfer. He’s a couch surfing addict. …At least that’s what his business card says. No joke. It reads: “Couch Surfing Addict” with a picture of his smiling face. I guess there are worse things to be addicted to. Very interesting dude. And another prime example of the good-natured people in this hospitality network. I’m not looking forward to the day when a knife-wielding maniac logs on and ruins it the way he did American hitchhiking.
Agnes’s party was at her friend’s coffee shop. …a coffee shop that serves vodka. Cool little café decorated with artifacts from the days of communism. And like any cool coffee shop, it’s versatile- quaint café, rowdy bar, art gallery, and they even let a group of Ukrainian folk singers practice on Monday nights. (yeah, I got footage).
Vodka… dancing… high-fives (piątka!)… then Agnes pulls me in…
“Can I tell you something?”
“Uh… yes.”
“I’ve never randomly e-mailed a couch surfer like the way I did you.”
“…Really? Cuz I just assumed you did this all the time…”
“No…”
“Well, can I tell you something?”
“Okay…”
“You weren’t my only random e-mail. I got, like, four.”
“Oh…”
“But for some reason, yours was the only one I responded to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Destiny.”
“Probably.”
“Say ‘piątka.’”
“Piątka!”
Then we high-five’d. (My king-of-high-fives brother Brian would’ve been proud).
So Agnes and I are like ‘this’ now (*holding up crossed fingers).
For our next lunch together, she said, “okay, I’m finally gonna take you to a milk bar.”
…Apparently the place I earlier thought was a milk bar was not a milk bar. Milk bars are similar with their handwritten menus and old ladies who look like they’ve worked there for fifty years. …but just about everything in these dirt-cheap and dirt-y cafeterias look like it’s been there for fifty years. It’s like walking into 1961. And with 1961-like prices, it’s no surprise they’re still open.
Later in the week, Agnes introduced me to Sexmission (proper polish title: Seksmisja)- Poland’s favorite movie. Communism could never unite a country like this 80’s comedy. Everyone loves it. Everyone. But, confession: I didn’t. The fantastic plot is bogged down with poor comedic timing and slow development, not to mention any humorous nuances in the dialogue are unfortunately lost in translation. Sorry, Poland. Really glad I got to see it though. If you’re ever traveling in Poland, this film is an instant conversation starter.
The week wasn’t all lunches and sexmissions…
Agnes got me an interview with the author of “Były dancingi i grały orkiestry w mieście Łodzi” – a book reflecting on entertainment during communist times. (The girl’s got connections).
Luckily, I got to do more than just listen to some old man talk about history. Anna (an architectural student and friend of the Topografia peeps) showed me the closed factories. Not the ones used for art spaces and museums… the boarded up ones that say: “keep out” or “danger: unstable structure.” We’d climb in mission-impossible-style and make our way over the broken floorboards and through the heaps of dust. The only factory she wouldn’t go near is the one with “the dogs.” Good idea.
Then Anna (btw- it’s actually pronounced An-ya; very popular name here) hooked me up with one of her architectural professors to interview. I know the opinion of an architect seems a little excessive given the subject of the movie, but get this: one of his focuses is transportation infrastructure, and while he was talking about Lodz public funding for “road widening,” all I could think about was a proposed plan in Detroit for road downsizing.
One last confession: as my stay in Lodz winds down, I don’t feel so sad to say goodbye to everyone. I have this weird feeling it’s only temporary.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Homemade Ketchup
It’s been surprisingly hectic since Philip left. For one, I don’t have the luxuries we had when we were in full production mode- like, Michal (or Marta) at my side to translate, manage the schedule, help carry equipment, or especially, drive. These days, it’s just me. In the morning, I pack everything for the day on my back, and then, I start walking. We’ve got a long list of B-Roll* and there’s a hell of a lot of area to cover in this city… Which makes the sweltering heat that much worse; I’m literally dripping by the time lunch rolls around. So, needless to say, I don’t cart around the laptop when I don’t have to. And when I don’t have the laptop, I can’t get on the internet during lunch… and when I can’t get internet during lunch, I kinda miss my chance for the day. So here’s the update…
Score one more for Couch Surfer. When I logged-in to leave a reference for my London hosts, my facebook-like profile page updated to indicate my current location… and all of a sudden, I got a message from a girl named Agnes. I wasn’t scheduled to surf her couch or anything, she just wanted to say hi and welcome me to her fair city of Łódź … maybe grab a drink or something.
I know what you’re thinking- is she a stalker-creep? …or is she actually the friendliest person of all time? Well, as a creep myself, I had nothing to lose.
And boy did it pay off. She’s awesome. Like, super awesome. Another fun person to hang out with in Łódź . And she’s got the hookup like you wouldn’t believe…
“…You don’t have a cell phone…? I have an extra one you can use.”
“…Oh, you need a bike…? You should borrow mine.”
“…Wait, you’re going to (insert European city)? I’ll call my friend and see if you can stay at their flat.”
I know, too good to be true, right?
Aside from lending out her bike and cell phone, Agnes introduced me to the world of Polish milk bars. These tiny restaurants were popular during the communism days serving up authentic home cooked Polish food dirt-cheap. Delicious. So delicious, we went two days in a row. I left it up to Agnes to order me something from the handwritten menu that changes almost daily based on what ingredients the old ladies have in the kitchen. And so far, she’s two for two.
Just as I reached an all-time high in my Łódź friend-count, I had to leave them all to go to Warsaw. Since many of our interviews reference the capital city, I needed to grab a few shots. So I packed a small backpack and hopped the train for a 36-hour romp through the largest city Poland.
Traveling alone… Probably end up sleeping on a couch belonging to one of Agnes’s acquaintances… But come to find out, Łukasz’s roommate Bogumila (and technically my roommate during my stay in Łódź ) was on her way to Warsaw as well. Her family lives in a little neighborhood on the outskirts of town… and they have a spare bedroom. Score! Bogumila (AKA “Boogie”) took me all over town, had her mom whip up some extra home cookin’, and even gave me a great sax lesson. s-A-x. pervert.
Remember how I said Łukasz lives across from the prestigious Łódź Music Academy? Well, that’s where Boogie studies.
Anyway, my stay in Warsaw has been simply incredible. The city is amazing. If Łódź is Detroit, Warsaw is Chicago. And relaxing in someone’s home- you just can’t beat that. Boogie’s step-dad, aside from being an official judge in French wine competitions, is quite the musician himself, so we spent the evening drinking wine, listening to his recordings, and playing the piano. Seriously, I rarely get to touch a piano with such a warm sound. I don’t think I need to mention the food- Milk Bars are great, but to have real homecooking, you’ve gotta be in a home.
On my way back to Łódź now. I’d say I have to catch the train, but Agnes has hooked me up once again. She called a few hours ago, saying she’s got a friend driving to Łódź from Warsaw and he can give me a ride. Damn. There’s gotta be a catch, right? Polish people can’t possibly be this nice.
*B-roll: the footage used to support the interview statements- like, when someone references the need for more public transportation, I’ll need footage of a crowded bus stop or a traffic jam.
Score one more for Couch Surfer. When I logged-in to leave a reference for my London hosts, my facebook-like profile page updated to indicate my current location… and all of a sudden, I got a message from a girl named Agnes. I wasn’t scheduled to surf her couch or anything, she just wanted to say hi and welcome me to her fair city of Łódź … maybe grab a drink or something.
I know what you’re thinking- is she a stalker-creep? …or is she actually the friendliest person of all time? Well, as a creep myself, I had nothing to lose.
And boy did it pay off. She’s awesome. Like, super awesome. Another fun person to hang out with in Łódź . And she’s got the hookup like you wouldn’t believe…
“…You don’t have a cell phone…? I have an extra one you can use.”
“…Oh, you need a bike…? You should borrow mine.”
“…Wait, you’re going to (insert European city)? I’ll call my friend and see if you can stay at their flat.”
I know, too good to be true, right?
Aside from lending out her bike and cell phone, Agnes introduced me to the world of Polish milk bars. These tiny restaurants were popular during the communism days serving up authentic home cooked Polish food dirt-cheap. Delicious. So delicious, we went two days in a row. I left it up to Agnes to order me something from the handwritten menu that changes almost daily based on what ingredients the old ladies have in the kitchen. And so far, she’s two for two.
Just as I reached an all-time high in my Łódź friend-count, I had to leave them all to go to Warsaw. Since many of our interviews reference the capital city, I needed to grab a few shots. So I packed a small backpack and hopped the train for a 36-hour romp through the largest city Poland.
Traveling alone… Probably end up sleeping on a couch belonging to one of Agnes’s acquaintances… But come to find out, Łukasz’s roommate Bogumila (and technically my roommate during my stay in Łódź ) was on her way to Warsaw as well. Her family lives in a little neighborhood on the outskirts of town… and they have a spare bedroom. Score! Bogumila (AKA “Boogie”) took me all over town, had her mom whip up some extra home cookin’, and even gave me a great sax lesson. s-A-x. pervert.
Remember how I said Łukasz lives across from the prestigious Łódź Music Academy? Well, that’s where Boogie studies.
Anyway, my stay in Warsaw has been simply incredible. The city is amazing. If Łódź is Detroit, Warsaw is Chicago. And relaxing in someone’s home- you just can’t beat that. Boogie’s step-dad, aside from being an official judge in French wine competitions, is quite the musician himself, so we spent the evening drinking wine, listening to his recordings, and playing the piano. Seriously, I rarely get to touch a piano with such a warm sound. I don’t think I need to mention the food- Milk Bars are great, but to have real homecooking, you’ve gotta be in a home.
On my way back to Łódź now. I’d say I have to catch the train, but Agnes has hooked me up once again. She called a few hours ago, saying she’s got a friend driving to Łódź from Warsaw and he can give me a ride. Damn. There’s gotta be a catch, right? Polish people can’t possibly be this nice.
*B-roll: the footage used to support the interview statements- like, when someone references the need for more public transportation, I’ll need footage of a crowded bus stop or a traffic jam.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Wall
I remember every tasty shot of Polish potato vodka: gathered around Liliana’s kitchen table our first night in town, hanging out on the porch after Luca’s band’s show, at the club as Wiktor mixed some serious industrial beats… whenever it was poured, it seemed like there was no limit to how awesome the night could get. But around 4:30 this morning… I found the limit.
It was Philip’s last night; we had to.
…Let me back up.
Friday began with a tour of the Łódź Film Center where they house one of the largest blue screens in Europe as well as one of the largest prop and costume collections (medieval armor, Nazi uniforms, an entire arsenal of guns...).
Then we put a couple of our hosts in the hot seat. Topografie is a social mission much like Detroit Lives. The collective sponsors City Games, an interactive map of Łódź featuring notes from locals as well as historical photos, and they even do community art installations- my favorite was when a bunch of people took household lamps to a dark park one evening and lit it up, so when residents went for their nightly stroll, it made their evening a little brighter. (pun intended, sorry).
Friday night, the reality of Philip’s Sunday morning departure was sinking in, but we couldn’t quit yet. We needed B-roll. Crazy, underground DJ B-roll. Hell yeah. This is something we couldn’t approach from a “professional” standpoint even if we wanted to- after all, the real parties don’t start until after midnight. Good thing Luka (our original sound guy) was back, and as you may remember from a previous post, he knows how to have a hell of a night.
For the pre-party entertainment, he introduced us to “the wall”… which is exactly what the name suggests: a wall. …a low stone divider in a petrol station parking lot. This is where everybody goes to drink. Everybody. The parking lot is packed with Polish hipsters. It’s not legal, and police show up every hour or so. But it’s just a procedural stop for them. They’ll drive though and disperse the crowd, and within 30-minutes, the wall is back in full effect. Even if police cracked down, (which I’m sure would send the petrol station food mart out of business), the wall would live on; the common belief is that “it isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind.”
As midnight rolled around, Wiktor’s party was raging… we just had to get to the opposite end of Piotrkowska Street. …and if you recall, that’s a helluva long street. There was only one solution… BIKE RICKSHAW RACE! We partnered up and flagged down our rides. This was gonna be some badass Ben-Hur shit. …until Philip and I got stuck with a wheezy old man. At least we made it there.
Like the wall, everyone knew about this party. And like the wall, the cops broke it up. Damn. At least they didn’t completely shut it down. Wiktor transferred his energy from savage industrial techno to dreamy trance. Made for some cool visuals.
By the time we stumbled out, the night sky made for some cool visuals too as it was slowly infused with morning light. Don’t ask me how, but we still had the energy to set the camera in the middle of the street and shoot some time lapsed traffic. Vodka hard at work.
Saturday morning was a rough one, but not as bad as one might imagine. We knew we had to power through Philip’s last day. Our last interviews.
We spoke with a documentary filmmaker who had one of the bitterest outlooks of any of our subjects. Then we got hopeful insight from our host Łukasz. Like many in Łódź, he frequently travels 90 minutes to Warsaw for work and sees the future of Łódź as becoming the creative counterpart to the nation’s capital. Finally, we interviewed local artist/ fashion designer Gregor Gonsior. He’s one of those guys that oozes with understated intrigue… and I didn’t even know what the heck he was saying.
It had been a long two weeks. It was time to celebrate.
Across the street from Łukasz’s flat, we sat around the ornate columns of the Łódź Academy of Music and drank. The summer air was perfect. The vodka was delicious.
After a few bottles, it was back to the wall. Damn good times. I remember learning Polish tongue twisters… I remember Agnieszka’s dream about penguins… I remember going to the bar… it was very red… then we started walking… then the sun started rising… Agata got orange juice… Philip got ice cream… and when we finally got home I remember standing in the bathroom thinking to myself, “I’ve been peeing for a really long time…”
100% awesome …until I closed my eyes and the room started spinning.
It’s a miracle I was able to function this morning. I’m pretty sure I was still sleeping when I somehow backed up all the footage on our second drive and packed it into Philip’s suitcase. He hopped on the train, and I hopped back into bed.
The wall… damn. With this headache I'm gonna be in that state of mind for the rest of the day whether I like it or not.
Worth it.
It was Philip’s last night; we had to.
…Let me back up.
Friday began with a tour of the Łódź Film Center where they house one of the largest blue screens in Europe as well as one of the largest prop and costume collections (medieval armor, Nazi uniforms, an entire arsenal of guns...).
Then we put a couple of our hosts in the hot seat. Topografie is a social mission much like Detroit Lives. The collective sponsors City Games, an interactive map of Łódź featuring notes from locals as well as historical photos, and they even do community art installations- my favorite was when a bunch of people took household lamps to a dark park one evening and lit it up, so when residents went for their nightly stroll, it made their evening a little brighter. (pun intended, sorry).
Friday night, the reality of Philip’s Sunday morning departure was sinking in, but we couldn’t quit yet. We needed B-roll. Crazy, underground DJ B-roll. Hell yeah. This is something we couldn’t approach from a “professional” standpoint even if we wanted to- after all, the real parties don’t start until after midnight. Good thing Luka (our original sound guy) was back, and as you may remember from a previous post, he knows how to have a hell of a night.
For the pre-party entertainment, he introduced us to “the wall”… which is exactly what the name suggests: a wall. …a low stone divider in a petrol station parking lot. This is where everybody goes to drink. Everybody. The parking lot is packed with Polish hipsters. It’s not legal, and police show up every hour or so. But it’s just a procedural stop for them. They’ll drive though and disperse the crowd, and within 30-minutes, the wall is back in full effect. Even if police cracked down, (which I’m sure would send the petrol station food mart out of business), the wall would live on; the common belief is that “it isn’t a place, it’s a state of mind.”
As midnight rolled around, Wiktor’s party was raging… we just had to get to the opposite end of Piotrkowska Street. …and if you recall, that’s a helluva long street. There was only one solution… BIKE RICKSHAW RACE! We partnered up and flagged down our rides. This was gonna be some badass Ben-Hur shit. …until Philip and I got stuck with a wheezy old man. At least we made it there.
Like the wall, everyone knew about this party. And like the wall, the cops broke it up. Damn. At least they didn’t completely shut it down. Wiktor transferred his energy from savage industrial techno to dreamy trance. Made for some cool visuals.
By the time we stumbled out, the night sky made for some cool visuals too as it was slowly infused with morning light. Don’t ask me how, but we still had the energy to set the camera in the middle of the street and shoot some time lapsed traffic. Vodka hard at work.
Saturday morning was a rough one, but not as bad as one might imagine. We knew we had to power through Philip’s last day. Our last interviews.
We spoke with a documentary filmmaker who had one of the bitterest outlooks of any of our subjects. Then we got hopeful insight from our host Łukasz. Like many in Łódź, he frequently travels 90 minutes to Warsaw for work and sees the future of Łódź as becoming the creative counterpart to the nation’s capital. Finally, we interviewed local artist/ fashion designer Gregor Gonsior. He’s one of those guys that oozes with understated intrigue… and I didn’t even know what the heck he was saying.
It had been a long two weeks. It was time to celebrate.
Across the street from Łukasz’s flat, we sat around the ornate columns of the Łódź Academy of Music and drank. The summer air was perfect. The vodka was delicious.
After a few bottles, it was back to the wall. Damn good times. I remember learning Polish tongue twisters… I remember Agnieszka’s dream about penguins… I remember going to the bar… it was very red… then we started walking… then the sun started rising… Agata got orange juice… Philip got ice cream… and when we finally got home I remember standing in the bathroom thinking to myself, “I’ve been peeing for a really long time…”
100% awesome …until I closed my eyes and the room started spinning.
It’s a miracle I was able to function this morning. I’m pretty sure I was still sleeping when I somehow backed up all the footage on our second drive and packed it into Philip’s suitcase. He hopped on the train, and I hopped back into bed.
The wall… damn. With this headache I'm gonna be in that state of mind for the rest of the day whether I like it or not.
Worth it.
Friday, June 3, 2011
HollyŁódź
Se-Ma-Fore: they’re the Pixar of Poland- a two-time Academy Award winning animation production company that’s been operating out of Łódź for the past forty years. And when we showed up yesterday, we got the VIP treatment: a studio tour (including the workshop where they’re in production of a new Polish TV series), an interview with the Oscar winner himself, and we even got the go-ahead to use clips of their movies in our movie. Like… whoa!
Earlier that morning, we got a taste of the live action scene when we toured the Łódź Art Center and saw a small film crew hard at work. The warehouses have been converted into sets, gallery space, and offices for creative development. I’m beginning to see why David Lynch loves this city so much. He shot most of Inland Empire here, and recently he met with the President to discuss building his own Łódź studio.
Thursday afternoon was a relaxing one. For those of you keeping track, I did laundry. Woo! Then, I took a nap that lasted longer than 120 seconds, and I wasn’t in a car. Double Woo!
It’s getting down to the wire. Philip leaves on Sunday, so we’re gonna have a couple of crammed days coming up. Then again, we’re making a movie; there’s not really much to complain about.
Earlier that morning, we got a taste of the live action scene when we toured the Łódź Art Center and saw a small film crew hard at work. The warehouses have been converted into sets, gallery space, and offices for creative development. I’m beginning to see why David Lynch loves this city so much. He shot most of Inland Empire here, and recently he met with the President to discuss building his own Łódź studio.
Thursday afternoon was a relaxing one. For those of you keeping track, I did laundry. Woo! Then, I took a nap that lasted longer than 120 seconds, and I wasn’t in a car. Double Woo!
It’s getting down to the wire. Philip leaves on Sunday, so we’re gonna have a couple of crammed days coming up. Then again, we’re making a movie; there’s not really much to complain about.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
lookin' good, skinny
Everything you’ve heard about Polish women is true; they’re beautiful. It’s like walking around a college campus in the spring. But college girls are supposed to be skinny; they’re plagued with anxiety, eating disorders, and vodka sodas. The girls here eat pączkis, they have that relaxed European mentality, and I won’t even get into the amount of mayonnaise they slop on food.
Anna our sound new sound girl (Luka had to leave for another job) eats a pączki every morning. Okay- not every morning. Sometimes, she has a cheese Danish. Yet, she’s still skinnier than 99% of the American population. …How?! At least her diet’s safe with us; we probably burned off ten cheese Danishes yesterday.
We started at City Hall where we got footage of a city counsel meeting. Then we caught a cab to the Cinematography Museum where the President was unveiling a new statue of Polish TV’s most beloved cartoon cat. (Hey- if we can bronze Magic Johnson, they can certainly hold a photo op in front of a cartoon cat). At the museum, we interviewed the man in charge of PR for the city.
Then we spoke to one person who perfectly bridges the gap between Łódź and Detroit… Liliana. A couple months ago, she found our project online and nearly flipped. Born in Łódź, moved to Detroit during high school, and now back in Łódź finishing her masters- she knows both cities inside and out, and she’s even contemplated her own dual-city project for quite some time.
That evening a storm moved in. And as the weather changed, so did the tune of our subjects. One aging artist was almost ready to give up his fight with local government, but an up-starter from the NGO sector couldn’t have been more fired up; she brought a policy smackdown like no other, knocking the President, city hall, and anyone else with voting power. It was raw, it was passionate, and the more she challenged the political gods, the more thunder tried to silence her voice.
…Gods can be so touchy. It rained the rest of the night. …And thank gods it did. We needed to cool off. It had been hotter than hell the past two days, and in a lame attempt to appear professional, Philip and I wore our trendiest skinny jeans- Philip even wore a blazer. Damn those skinny jeans.
Stripped down to shorts and t-shirts, we propped open the balcony door in our fourth floor walk-up and logged the day’s footage as we listened to the rain. It’s times like these I’m glad we don’t have internet.
Anna our sound new sound girl (Luka had to leave for another job) eats a pączki every morning. Okay- not every morning. Sometimes, she has a cheese Danish. Yet, she’s still skinnier than 99% of the American population. …How?! At least her diet’s safe with us; we probably burned off ten cheese Danishes yesterday.
We started at City Hall where we got footage of a city counsel meeting. Then we caught a cab to the Cinematography Museum where the President was unveiling a new statue of Polish TV’s most beloved cartoon cat. (Hey- if we can bronze Magic Johnson, they can certainly hold a photo op in front of a cartoon cat). At the museum, we interviewed the man in charge of PR for the city.
Then we spoke to one person who perfectly bridges the gap between Łódź and Detroit… Liliana. A couple months ago, she found our project online and nearly flipped. Born in Łódź, moved to Detroit during high school, and now back in Łódź finishing her masters- she knows both cities inside and out, and she’s even contemplated her own dual-city project for quite some time.
That evening a storm moved in. And as the weather changed, so did the tune of our subjects. One aging artist was almost ready to give up his fight with local government, but an up-starter from the NGO sector couldn’t have been more fired up; she brought a policy smackdown like no other, knocking the President, city hall, and anyone else with voting power. It was raw, it was passionate, and the more she challenged the political gods, the more thunder tried to silence her voice.
…Gods can be so touchy. It rained the rest of the night. …And thank gods it did. We needed to cool off. It had been hotter than hell the past two days, and in a lame attempt to appear professional, Philip and I wore our trendiest skinny jeans- Philip even wore a blazer. Damn those skinny jeans.
Stripped down to shorts and t-shirts, we propped open the balcony door in our fourth floor walk-up and logged the day’s footage as we listened to the rain. It’s times like these I’m glad we don’t have internet.
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