Holland, Bergum - Waldrock Festival
It was our last day in the American Hotel in Amsterdam. It is a nice place. I especially like to watch channel 1 on the TV when I'm in my room. It shows the view from a camera mounted on the corner of the building. I like to open the window and try and place the sounds with the images.
The hotel seems to be favored by music types, we were there longer than usual because we had our production rehearsals here. During our stay Garbage stayed there, and I walked past David Crosby typing on his laptop in the lobby.
Later James, the Drovers and myself were gathered in the lobby and Graham Nash walked in. He looked us over once, his face broke out in a broad grin and he said, "Well, there looks like a load of trouble." None of us said anything, he looked like trouble to us. Hanging out with an archetypal hippie in Amsterdam - nah, no danger there.
Of course that encounter turned out to be rather portentous since the Waldrock Festival turned out to be our own little slice of Woodstock. Well, at least the mud part. Mud everywhere. Buses stuck in mud. Sliding and falling in mud. Trying to scrape the mud off the mud with a fistful of mud. I finally understand those nutty wooden shoes - you need some sort of shoes with some buoyancy or you're going to get sucked right down like quicksand - what a horrible way to go - like some spa treatment gone horribly wrong.
The backstage area was pretty much packed with people. You couldn't throw a stick without hitting a band. It got so bad at one point that the bands ganged up on me and took away all my sticks.
Still, even with all that it was a good day. I got to see some friends again and got to hang out in Holland one more day. I was reminded of why Holland is one of my favorite countries, reminded again of the quality of the people, and their great heart. This is the country that embraced outcasts like Anne Frank and Baruch Spinoza, took them in and cared for them.
I don't care if I am covered in mud; any day in Holland is a good day.