Glastonbury 2011 - Fun, fun, fun...

After a hectic 8 days of Venice, London, Edinburgh... I did not get a chance to write about the last trip, I unpacked, only to pack again for Glastonbury! I can't keep up with myself.

The invite by Lola and Ernest to the VIP section of the festival was an offer I could not possibly refuse. When friends asked in total astonishment:
"Haldita, are you actually camping?!"
My answer was: "Darling, I don't camp! Please. I haven't camped before and I certainly ain't gonna start now!"
In Edinburgh, I bought the essential Wellington boots as instructed by Ernest, as without them, the muddy Glastonbury would not have been possible. We are talking about British summer here.

Thursday afternoon, I picked up Torsten and drove through the long hours of traffic to Glastonbury, arriving by 11 p.m.
I told Torsten: "I just can't wait to get dirty, dir'y."
My friend found my comment rather amusing.

I continued: "Surely we can liven up this waiting in traffic situation to get into the premises. Right?"

Torsten was in total agreement.

"So, let's start the party! There's a bottle of Bollinger on ice in the bucket behind my seat and a ready-rolled spliff in the bag next to it. Let's put the music up and wait in style."
After an hour of moving ever so slowly in the queue, the small paths to get to Windinglake were slippery and my car slid through the mud as though we were on an ice skating ring. On site, we parked next to the two caravans to join Ernest, Kelly and Jill amongst others, for a long weekend of further bonding and making new friends. Fabulous.

On our first night, the excitement meant that sleep was out of order. It was a chilly night, so we chatted in the caravans, wrapped up in as many layers as we could possibly carry. Simply could not wait for the morning, to get our wristbands after breakfast and head towards where the festival was being held. Shuttles drove us to Gate C. We started with a rainy day, walking through the muddiest of fields I have ever come across. Even at boarding school, had I not experienced such conditions. From time to time, my Wellington boots would get stuck in the ground and I fall flat on my backside, boom, straight onto the muddy ground. Ouch! Definitely dir'y.

The atmosphere of the festival was jolly, everyone smiled and once again, music was the key point of the joy.

There were heaps of tents laid down at the back of the grounds. It can just be seen behind the trees at the far end.







We met up with Sabrina and her crew for more fun and laughter. I did not manage to take photos in the rain, as keeping pace with our group was a chore in itself. Hearing Carl Cox's (DJ) set was amazing, we danced nonstop to his music and later to the set by Fatboy Slim.
As we passed by the crowded Pyramid stage, U2 were playing but we took a glance and left.

Saturday brought some sunshine and warmer conditions. Thank God. We went from stage to tents for various acts and walked extensively all day, watching the different shows. Aloe Blacc were performing at West Holts, they were fun to watch but soon after they finished, we rushed to the Wow! stage to hear Neneh Cherry sing.

As Sabrina and her group were keen to stay behind to hear their friend perform, Torsten and I, joined by others, made our way to hear the Chemical Brothers at Other; another stage. Boy, did we dance to their music and before midnight, we made our way to catch the shuttle back to the calmer surround of the bar at the Windinglake.

Sunday was the sunniest day ever! and warm. Breakfast was on the lawn, outside the bar area, where we queued for an organic English breakfast and coffee, followed by champagne. Back in the chaos of the more solid grounds and the crowd, I had stayed behind to keep Jill company but as she needed more resting time, it was quite challenging to make my way alone to the Pyramid stage, where Paul Simon was playing. I was, however, determined and managed to find my friends amongst the gathering of a multitude of colourful people. We stayed after the show, as Plan B were next.

One of my favourite spectacles was performed by the vibrant Hercules and Love Affair. Such great energy.

After hearing a few of Kool and the Gang's old numbers, we hurried back to the Pyramid stage to join the rest of our group. However, this was unsuccessful. In fact, the task of finding anyone amongst the masses of people gathering was near to impossible. We stayed to watch Beyonce on the wide screens for a couple of songs and then made our way out towards the long road to Shangri-La. Here are some photos of the funky space in the daytime.

All in all, it was another super weekend, spent in the most loving company. As Ernest commented:
"Wouldn't be great if the whole world was like Glastonbury!"
And wouldn't it just? (Except for the mud).

La Biennale di Venezia

Day 3

On a gloriously sunny day, after breakfast, we embarked on the taxi boat at San Marco once again to head for Giardini; the stop where the Biennale was being held nearby. This event takes place every two years and only by the large scale of preparations used for each exhibit can you see the reason behind the year gap.

For a change, photography was allowed and I shall take you through a few of the exhibits, from the ones we visited. 

From the entrance:

ILLUMI

nations

2011 International Art Exhibition of La Biennale di Venezia

Don't Italians have a wonderful way of expressing themselves? Biennnallle. Illuminazioni.

We bought our tickets at the entrance and made our way to the vast area where pavilions, immersed in nature were spread out in the grounds. Each was commissioned by various nations taking part in this International Art Exhibition, designed by leading 20th-century architects.

The first building facing us was Padiglione Centrale.  

The ensemble of 200 stuffed pigeons above, somewhat resembled Leicester Square with the fake pigeon shit laid on the floor.  

Lynn Foulke's painting of Superman reading a newspaper headline WAR, with the thoughts in his mind questioning... "Where did I go wrong?" made me smile, with a sigh. Indeed, where does one begin?

On that thought, we left the colossal white building to face the Hungarian grand pavilion, named CRASH by Hajnal Nemeth. A car crash lit in red with a wall-hanging of words relating and reflecting on different stages of life.

  

Now, the American exhibit through the tall columns, named Gloria, under the concept of 'freedom' was amusing. 

The first thing that hits you upon entrance to the building is a statue similar to the Statue of Liberty, on a sunbed!

'Armed Freedom Lying on a Sunbed' was collaborated for the first time by a Spanish-speaking Puerto Rican to represent the US.

We got distracted by the loud sound of an organ being played in the next room. We made our way to view the church instrument reaching the high ceilings standing amid the square room and walked to the back to observe a cash machine where visitors placed their debit cards and tapped their pins, accompanied by the deafening sound of the organ, would be delivered with 'Euro cash' through the device behind the apparatus.

"these days, it's all about money... Money talks out of a church organ!" I exclaimed. 

The Israelis managed to portray a peaceful message through art.

A realistic film was shown on the floor of three boys laying the lines of their territory with knives, while the other destroyed it, only to be re-drawn. Why cannot this slogan 'One man's floor is another man's feelings' be appreciated in the real world?

We then marched through the Collezione Louis Vuitton of standing boats with a water image through each. 

Walked by the Chinese murals on the frontage of another grand assemblage.

In the Brazilian arena, these words, amongst others, were written by hand on a white wall.

'A sua Pressa Nao e´a minha pressa', meaning 'Your rush is not my rush'.

I don't personally see what the rush is all about!

Les français, constructed a scaffolding to fit the size of the immense white room, demonstrating a rapid newspaper production line of cloned, black-and-white baby images.

We finally got to my favourite exhibit by the Venezuelan artist, Fabrizio Plessi.

The first room demonstrated an overflowing rushed paper on the wall most delicately, followed by the vibrant political paintings in the next one.  

Having recently visited the country, it was no surprise to give my full vote to this exhibit.  Heads of state are being demonstrated to their true self.

George Bush lying in his all-American gear without any care and the Pope carrying the Joker from Batman on his lap.

Bravo guys... Colourful and superb!

The British exposition below, for which we had to queue to get in, was rather disappointing. The bombshell site of terrorist activity was dull, grey and rather passé. Then again, we each have different opinions. 

Vive La Difference. The works displayed, left me intrigued as to the awareness of individuals, in provocative manners, to the new, sad world we are creating, yet brought messages of hope to attention. The first step is 'awareness'.

      

Palazzo Grassi - Venice

Day 2

Upon Jonathan's advice, the taxi boat from San Marco, dropped us near Palazzo Grassi; three floors of contemporary art, displayed mainly in immense dimensions to accommodate the grand space of the building.  It was not the magenta, bright Balloon Dog by Jeff Koons that first captured our attention, but the 'Contamination' patchwork sprawl from Joana Vasconcelos, of brightly coloured forms that invaded the entrance of this magnificent Palazzo.  

No photography was allowed, and we took time to view every global work of art by various artists.  
There was a short trailer shown in a dark room by Bernard Henry Levy of a fabricated film starring Sharon Stone of The American Dream; where she ran for presidency.

On a higher floor, Farhad Moshiri, from Iran's colourful exhibit on a white wall read:
'Life is Beautiful', composed from colourful knife handles of different textures, which could only be distinguished by a closer look. Indeed, La Dolce Vita was made beautiful from the acquisition of many knife wounds in the past. I can relate to that.

From Yang Jiechang, born in Southern China, were two walls covered in paintings of his works titled, 'Stranger than Paradise', in which Yang humorously illustrated a paradisal vision of animals and men frolicking (and I mean sexually mucking about) joyfully in nature.  
What's the world coming to?  

Alighiero Boetti's statue of a man holding a lead pipe over his head where steam is coming out is named accordingly 'Mi fuma il cervello'. Steam is comin' out of my brain! Boy, do I feel that way at times.

Last but not least, we came across the colossal, finely detailed oil paintings by the Zambian artist; Jonathan Wateridge. Scenes from the production of a fictional American film centred on an unseen catastrophic event. Awesome!

We left the Palazzo Grassi in awe, to walk over the bridge running across the Grand Canal, passed through numerous alleys, canals and astounding architectural delights, and crossed smaller bridges to reach Punta della Dogana museum, 'In Praise of Doubt' with a motto that read; "The world belongs to you".  

It was incredible to see such a contemporary interior of concrete walls, decorated by contemporary art, housing such Roman-style architecture on the white exterior of the building, situated on the far left side of the photo below.

Again, no photos allowed, I noticed the life-size horse hanging by the neck from a wall above.  
Up the stairs, there was an exhibit of a large size room created by Roni Horn of New York; 'Well and Truly', displaying a dimly lit living room of an old era, possibly revisited in the future.

After enough art consumption for one day, we rerouted back for a few hours of retail therapy. After all, we were in Italy!

On the way back to the hotel, always on foot as the roads are only made for walking, we stumbled across a small workshop/art gallery in a back street and entered to find Gigi Bon; lawyer, turned artist at work, behind her chaotic desk. Her main subject of sculpture was rhinos.

 When I asked why she was so dedicated to the rhino, she answered:
"I feel myself a rhino. Being Venetian, we're so few that we're close to extinction."

That evening's late dinner was at the nearby Do Forni restaurant, resembling an ancient Venetian Tavern with traditional cuisine. My body was craving meat after all the seafood we had consumed, so the choice of the Beef Stroganoff turned out to be an excellent idea. The dish was made on a frying pan next to our table, to perfection. I vividly imagine the succulent taste of the tender beef, infused with a refined creamy sauce, accompanied by roast potatoes. Gastronomy at its best. Yummy.

Enriched with architecture, art and culinary excellence, we rushed back to our hotel room, for a night of tossing and turning due to a full stomach!

The Splendour of Venice

Thinking of Venice, the scene of San Marco square crosses my mind from the movie 'Death in Venice', made in 1971, starring Dirk Bogarde and the beautiful boy played by Bjorn Andreson.

Although a sad story of an older man finding beauty in Venice, augmented by the alluring looks of the young, blonde boy he meets on his visit, the magnificence of the sites of this city was a joy to behold and made me dream of one day, visiting this city.

And there I was with Andrea, approaching the scene, from the front seat of a taxi boat from the airport. We were laid off at San Marco Square and made our way through the crowded, narrow cobbled streets on foot to the Hotel Splendida, by a canal. Thank goodness, it was a mere 15kg of luggage we each had, to be rolled passing by the unbelievable volume of tourists around.

Immediately after checking in, upon the disposal of suitcases, we checked out for a well-recommended glass of Spritz; a mix of prosecco, Campari, and S.Pellegrino with olives and delicious antipasti at Bancogiro's cafe, gazing at the sun going down on camera-equipped tourists passing by in the canal opposite.

The glory of Venice was beginning to sink under our skin. With all the sites to explore, we continued walking and further discovering the splendour of its architecture. Keeping up with the fast pace of my friend, was quite a challenge but it sure kept me fit! More bridges with steps; up and down followed by the turns into the narrow streets, stopovers at some boutiques and taking in the elegance of colourful buildings in photo, brought us back for a quick make-over in our hotel room, only to descend once again for a further map from the concierge to direct us towards dinner at the family-run Al Covo restaurant. Ooooff! I am out of breath writing about it.

At Al Covo, by the recommendation of the owner, we ordered fresh anchovies for starters and for someone who has never liked the taste, it was one of the most heavenly tastes of seafood I have ever encountered.

After dinner,  we came across the large posters of Mario Testino's 'Todo o Nada'; 'All or Nothing' photography exhibition, which sadly stated Rome and not Venice!
  

We strolled around the almost empty square after midnight, with admiration of the elegantly lit buildings.

'Di Che Pasta sei Fatto?' Said the poster... 'Of what pasta are you?'
And on that note, our first day in Venice came to a halt.

Home Sweet Home... Gallery hopping in London

As exhilarated as I was from my wonderful journey to Copenhagen, the excitement of the days to follow kept me on my toes.

Last Tuesday, a visit to Maygol for another invigorating session of her five-element acupuncture to keep me prepared for further connection into the universe in days to come.
The afternoon was spent in the company of Kristine, visiting works of art by various artists in the Mayfair area, on Cork Street. We viewed Martin Yeoman's paintings at Petleys, continuing on to other chic gallery openings of Russian artists to Scandinavians in this trendy location. We ended the evening with dinner at the bar of Le Caprice; a restaurant I frequently visited with my Ex many a decade ago. We attempted a visit, unsuccessfully, to the Bungalow 8 club and ended up at the bar of St Martin's Lane Hotel, accompanied by the enjoyable new company of Georgina, Katia and Fabio.

On Wednesday afternoon, Arabela invited me to the first comprehensive exhibition of modern and contemporary Greek art to be staged in the UK, yet another art fair, in Albemarle Street.
Arabela introduced me to the charming European gallery owner who commented on his admiration of a woman's husky voice with a certain accent and boy do I take compliments with a flirtatious smile!
Our tour of works displayed by several prominent artists continued. We came to a standstill at the Callas performance installations of flashing lights through a stretch of plastic bottle holders, and blue and yellow boxes, displayed to create a dance floor with embroidered wall hangings allocated across the high walls surrounding this particular division. The words 'Kiss, Kill, Piss' and 'In Lust We Trust' stand out, woven into the pieces. We were taken aback at the gallery owner's remark, en passant, through the crowded room.
"Are you ready to dance, Haldita?" He asked as though he knew me.
Quite honestly, I was too stunned to answer while Arabela rushed to add:
"Oh! She doesn't need encouragement. You don't know who you are saying this to!" And whisked me out of the gallery by the arm, in laughter.
"Com' on Haldita," Arabela announced. "We're leaving."

I had to drive to the airport by 21:30 that evening, awaiting the arrival of my travel buddy; Andrea. Our paths had first crossed at a welcome party Wayne, our host, had organised for the arrival of Hala and me to the superb city of New York. Andrea and I had travelled to Arizona and the Toronto Film Festival on previous trips, years before. She is now joining me in London, once again for some jet-setting around.

On her first day, we visited the Jean Paul Gaultier boutique en route to a bite at Itsu.
Afternoon cocktail at Ernest's was followed by dinner at the Mayfair Hakkasan and ended at Annabel's club, where I bumped into Sabet and his sister, sitting at a table with another couple, whom I had previously encountered briefly. He stood up with his enchanting smile, offering us seats to accompany them. It turned out another special evening of music, laughter and dancing before we headed our separate ways.

Friday was a visit to another magnificent gallery close to Kings Cross, run by the delightful Jonathan, who presented us, the surreal Vanitas collection of 'The Transcience of Earthly Pleasures'. He mentioned the visit to the stupendous paintings of Jonathan Wateridge being displayed at the Palazzo Grassi as a must see at our forthcoming trip to Venice. Can't wait.
Our mutual passion for the arts, accompanied by the rain, drove us into the National Portrait Gallery that afternoon, where the photography of the Russian-born, Armenian heritage Ida Kar Archive was on display.
Black and white photos in an exhibition of over seventy of Kar's portraits highlight the significant role played by this woman photographer at the heart of the creative avant-garde era.

In the evening, I organised a dinner party at home as a welcoming gathering of friends for the arrival of Andrea. My 3-D Gaultier number; a long dress printed with images of the solar system and galaxies was a big hit. Every guest commented even before I presented them with the provided 3-D glasses (disappointing to say, similar to the ones handed out in comic books), on how they loved my dress.
"Darling," I would say every time. "I'm 3-D'ed'. Must move on with the times you know!"
Continuing, upon handing my friends the paper glasses: "Wanna check me out?"
The party was fun and my aubergine soufflé (the only thing I partially cook), went down very well with my enchanting guests.

Saturday was a visit to the Portobello market, the purchase of a couple of silverware dishes by Andrea, followed by the theatre; The Pygmalion.
It was purely the enjoyment of watching Diana Rigg and Rupert Everett's acting that kept us on our seats through the My Fair Lady play. My favourite part of the film at the Royal Ascot scene, where Eliza standing at the races shouts out to the runner-up horse:
"C'mon Dover. Move your bloomin' arse!" View of the astounded bystanders is cut out, plus the ball, where she enters to delight the royal interpreter with her posh British accent. So I left the play, slightly disappointed.
Great performances by the two leading actors, not so impressed by Eliza's role... And a little too passé.

Sunday morning... An early flight to Venice was awaiting. A first!
Soooo exciting.

The Copenhagen Canal Tour

Still back in Copenhagen... On Saturday, Kristian prepared a wholesome breakfast whilst I got ready for another day of exploring the city. I followed the aroma of the freshly made coffee down the stairs along with the ring of the bell. We sat in the garden, under the sizzling sun and once again it was not just the heat that made us flee. Breakfast was left untouched ...

At 4 p.m., we boarded the Netto boat for a Copenhagen Canal tour, gently floating on the widely spread water, with a warm breeze flowing in between the exchange of our smiles. We saw the magnificent Opera House, donated to the Danish state by the Moller Foundation, followed by the Black Diamond Library, and many other stunning buildings. 

Facing the grand building, the fountain rose directly opposite the Operaen.

The impressive Black Diamond Library was glowing with the reflection of the shimmering water of the canal.

While I ducked to let the boat drift under the very low bridges, we would come back into the open air of yet, another breathtaking site of rows of coloured buildings and people scattered along the bank in groups, smiling and enjoying the sunshine.

When we got back on land, Kristian was keen to visit a large white tent set in a square, an exhibit about the harm caused by mood stabilizers. There were videos of the CCHR organisation, documenting thousands of individual cases to demonstrate how often psychiatric practices create insanity and cause violence from the brutal effects of prescribed drugs. It was disturbing to see, how tormented minds could be driven to take refuge in a recommendation from someone whom they have trusted, to be taken advantage of, in such a brutal manner.

Overall, my weekend in the marvellous city of Copenhagen was amazing, accompanied by the utmost charm of a Danish stranger. I left on a plane back to London, with a big smile.

I loved cOPENhagen.