The Fair City of Utrecht

We arrived in Utrecht quarter past Eleven, Kayne upon his tall bike and I upon a not-so-tall bike. The cobblestone lanes were aflood with Easter holiday egg hunters, casually drinking coffees at any of the omnipresent shops. A 3 arm-span squatter symbol watched like an anarchist giant's eye from atop a building in the middle square, a sign perhaps, that Utrecht has a golden vein of acceptance for Calliopal meanderings.

Why do the Dutch sit facing the street? It is an odd quality, that when sipping coffees, they turn the rest of the world into their own bike-in-theatre. As a pedestrian or driver of bicycle, one feels somewhat on stage. I feel my costume is not adequate, mayhaps, and I feel I should ask the director for motivation.

But I digress. I will digress slightly further as I gather my thoughts.

They are effectively gathered now, so I wilst continue.

We made our way to the Villa of Henk Van der Deen, a local bard and houser of travelers who had arranged a performance for ourselves and another for that eve at De Kargador, which I believe translates roughly as "the driving alligator." It was a lovely evening indeed. The music was lovely, the crowd was extravagant, the space was an arched half-tube of a room, a catacomb of brick, and sound moved through it like sirens singing in the sea.

Cedarwell, from Sheboygan, Wisconsin, land of cheese and beer, was incredible I must say. I hope we may play more shows with him in a bright future filled with cheese and beer.

We rested Saturday in the Villa of Henk and departed Sunday, bunny sex zombie jesus day, for a squat we had but heard mention of in the neighboring town of Zeist. I carried an abandoned bicycle on my back, in the hopes of using it as the top of another tall bicycle.

About this squat...Nature is reclaiming the surrounding property, and the elves who reside within the man-made edifice are happy to let her. They also have welding machines and metal tools fill their workshops, thus the Calliope may BUILD.