17th August evening: The rehearsal with the borrowed brass band

We arrived in Topana only 30 minutes delayed, but rather than the full orchestra waiting for us, there were only Asan and his friend Ali, who kept telling us they would arrive any moment. 

So we waited and waited, and Ali felt more and more uncomfortable, until they admitted that the band was actually on a gig. What a weird way of dealing with people, we thought, why pretend, when we would find out a little later anyway? More and more I experience that there is a huge cultural behavior pattern going on, which is quite contrary to my 'German' straight forward way of being. One really has to look behind the scenes and let go of the 'matter-of-fact' being, release into a world of stories and float with it. 

I think Asan really just wanted our company, but I had enough, and so we prepared to leave...

Now the funniest thing occurred: Asan begged us to wait just for 10 more minutes, and left 20 min later he did return, and with him a whole Balkan brass band ! What an extraordinary thing. Some of the members were very young, maybe 14-16 years old, and felt rather awkward in this situation, having to play for and with this strange foreign lady who for some reason knew their music. 

We had a great jam in every way. The energy which vibrated from this really tight rhythm section was extraordinary, I don’t think I ever played in such a powerful environment. Not that they knew the pieces, but they made it up as they went along.

For one piece, which I really like, I could not handle the often wrong chords anymore, and they would not hold any of the breaks which made this piece so strong. So I interrupted the whole thing vehemently and taught them the right chords and breaks. This was quite a funny situation, me sitting in the middle of a Romany settlement with a borrowed brass band, teaching them one of their own pieces, but it changed the dynamics, and afterwards the youngest weren’t feeling so awkward anymore. 

The leader of that group then invited me then to play with their band, of course in such a way so Asan would not hear – great, now I could be member of three Balkan Brass Orchestars in Macedonia. I felt like a trophy which they all wanted to own for themselves. Well, I did decline politely, as I did not want to be the cause of a Balkan brass battle.

Gosia eventually did some dancing as well, and after we have been playing rather chaotically through all pieces which I had learned on my last visit, and Asan found no means to hold us there any longer, we departed and were chauffeured to the centre. Over several glasses of rakja, Gosia and me reflected on all those weird and wonderful events of the day.

16th August: of Elvis, the Romani Mafioso, and a Čoček performance of rather unusual nature…

This was Gosia’s first day in Skopje. We did not know yet, that our planned light day of sightseeing would end up being an intense encounter with Romani culture which was shocking and wonderful in the same time.

I thought I could use those tourist activities to catch up on a bit of history and general knowledge of Macedonia, as somehow during my stays here I always was dragged into other directions. Together we visited the sights, reading all the information exhibited on boards throughout. We also explored this whole business of the colour stains on Skopje’s monuments. It was named the ‘colour protest’, led by a group of free-minded Skopians. They expressed their unhappiness with the governmental issues in this peaceful action by throwing colourful paint onto those grand white brand-new monuments. I love the idea of it, but I would have preferred to see the whole thing delivered with some more artistic finesse.

From the centre, we made our way through the old town towards the bazar, checking out traditional shops and all the Turkish-influences fashion shops which displayed highly exuberant dresses.

   

From the centre, we made our way through the old town towards the bazar, checking out traditional shops, weird articles and all the Turkish-influences fashion shops which displayed highly exuberant dresses.

Finally we took the bus to Šuto Orizari, the Romani settlement outside Skopje. I felt very excited going to the market again, and strolling through the roads and alleyways. I had gotten in touch with Asan, as a spontaneous meeting close to where he lives seemed the most likely way to actually manage to meet him.

It was soooo hot, we were sneaking from shadow to shadow. Unfortunately the market was already packing up, so we started strolling off the tack into residential territory, into sections where I had not been before. In this settlement, one can discover so much creativity and imagination in and around the houses, it’s wonderful. We did chat to some of the proud home owners, who are always very happy to show you around and show off.

Later we had an ice coffee in a bar, a very sweet concoction of Nescafe, sugar, ice cubes and cream, and what miracle, Asan turned up. He was very concerned about meeting and rehearsing for the upcoming TV recording for Shutel, the local Romani television station. He had brought along his friend Ali, also a trumpet player; together we went then to the house of a relative to get rehearsals and TV sessions arranged.

I have been to a lot of Romani houses by now, and it does not matter in which country, and if rich or poor, they were all immaculately clean and tidy. You might find rubbish outside the house, but cleanliness inside is a strong part of their lore, which seem to have carried through even in the most modern Romani families. This house was different, really dirty and scattered. Anyway, were still welcomed like honoured visitors, and offered coke in semi-clean glasses.

As usual, when word goes round of special guests, several friends and family members pop round to pay their respect and also to spy on the newcomers. This way, we were introduced to a number of people, of course the crème-de-la-crème of Šutka. There was Elvis Pressley, who runs hotels abroad, and we met Lenzo, the Mafioso (we were warned afterwards by Asan), who owns a taxi firm in Stuttgart/Germany, and sings on the weekends in a slightly dubious Turkish night cub. I do not think many people can say of themselves to have met Elvis and a Mafioso in their life, and specially not in one day !

At one point a young man arrived, with a slightly strange air about him. Gosia identified him as gay, and we were wondering, if this was known to the family and community. He was asked to dance for us, as his Čoček dancing was apparently extraordinary. And it certainly was, after wrapping a jingly coin scarf around his hips, we were offered snippets of a rather feminine belly dance.

They didn’t allow us to take pix, they were concerned there would be bad gossip and discrimination amongst the community, if those images would be seen. For me, the fascinating thing was, here was a young man, who was everything which Roma people usually would shun and cast out. This young man however was in a weird way integrated in his community. I do not know, and could of course not ask, if they were aware he was homosexual, or if he was to them just a weird person, a kind of female man; whichever their answer would have been, in his difference he was accepted by others, he later helped other lads to repair some items on the next-door house.

For us, however, the dance performance was not finished yet. We were invited inside the house, so the dancer could perform properly for us, without any fear of being gossiped about. He would veil himself, and we were urged to film it.

What we witnessed then equally amazed and shocked us. I shall share with you here the starting scenes, before his dancing moves, urged by the grandmother of the house (who was to everyone’s shock only one year older than me!), took on rather too many erotic elements for my taste. The whole family, including small children, were there, seemingly feeling at ease, and I think the only two people feeling rather uncomfortable and overwhelmed with the situation were Gosia and me. It appears that for them the open display of so much erotic seems an ordinary thing.

Afterwards it became even more uncomfortable, as they asked Gosia to dance for them. In a normal situation, this would have been the right thing to do, to offer something back for this stunning performance which we just had been offered. Of course Gosia could not have danced now in this space which still vibrated from the guy’s energy, but her sweet and polite ‘no’ was not accepted. I had to step fully into a ‘mature grand-mother-figure’ position of authority to firmly establish that in our culture it would not be proper for a young lady like Gosia to dance in shorts. Tomorrow she would wear her skirt, and then provide a dance performance for them. We had been told we would return tomorrow there for a rehearsal.

The final act of the day should have been the visit to Šutel TV, the Romani television station of Skopje. It was of course was closed, and nobody had any idea about our appearance anyway; as I had already strongly suspected the whole action was part of Asan’s wishful thinking, wanting impress us and in the same time showing us off like his trophies to gain more recognition in their society. We agreed on meeting the next evening for a rehearsal, as Gosia and me had planned to visit the beautiful Lake Matka outside Skopje on the next day.

14th - 15th August: Easy Life

 What a surprise, Asan tried to get in touch, mostly via my friend Miki, but at least he tried. After learning I had been to Kočani he was really worried, that I had shared any of the tunes he taught me with the Romani musicians from there. It is odd, not to say actually a bit depressing how competitive and destructive they are against each other. Both are excellent trumpeters from Romani communities, both had told me independently I should stay away from the other as I would not be taught correctly, and that the other is no good in the first place…

Anyway, I took it easy that day. Some practice in the morning, then I packed my bag heading to the big central park for a relaxing session of reading and writing, and some walk along the Vardar river.

Later, I was joined by Miki, and after my report from Kočani, he talked me into joining him playing Beach Volley Ball. Have I ever played Volley Ball? Once around 35 years ago at school, which was a kind of musical grammar school. Therefore we musicians were told to stay away from such for our fingers dangerous activities… I realized I had missed great fun in my young days…

Next day, my friend Gosia from Poland was due to arrive. She had short notice asked to join me, as she has been let down by her Balkan travel companion.

Before picking her up from the Central Bus Station, I visited my friends busking. We did have chats about musicianship in London and in Skopje, and realized that payments and fees for musicians are in relation to living costs are much higher in Skopje. Also, with busking and playing some private events and little gigs, one could make a better living than from some professional employment here in Skopje.

The evening ended with a girl’s dinner, where my friend Bojana joined us. We exchanged lots of stories from the last few months, of course we chat about the current frustrations living in Macedonia; the experiences of working with various Romani musicians was a very valuable conversation, as it helped me to understand Asan’s weird behaviour…

9th August: Arrival in Mace-india...

 

After a visit to my little sister + family, I was travelling from Munich to Skopje, via Ljubljana, where I sniffed already some semi-Balkan air. I did arrive at Skopje feeling some hesitation, as I had not managed in the to reach Asan, my main musical contact and collaborator. I only had learned, that most of my acquaintances from the Roma community were actually not around, even though they know I would come and we had agreed to work together.  Well, I was about to learn lots of Romani behaviour patterns and mentality - lets keep an open mind, and dive into the learning curve… 

I first went to my accommodation, a strange little room in a so-called hostel towards Mount Vodno up the hill - in clean air. I was so happy that one of the non-Roma friends I made last time had arranged spontaneously to meet in the evening, so I did not have a lonely evening ahead.

As soon as all practicalities with my accommodation were sorted, I went to the centre, to sniff Skopje air. Luckily I had discovered that one can download google map areas to the phone and use them when off-line – this should keep my getting-lost to a minimum.

When I arrived at the Ploštad Makedonija, I was greeted by, for Skopje, rather alien sounds. A large group of Buddhist people went walking around the square, dressed-up, singing, dancing, and giving a pretty contrasting vibe to all those overly-sized statues and Vienna-imitation-type of buildings.

A while later, my friend Miki came; he felt like crying, when he absorbed the energy of the Buddhist performance, as he was so touched by the love and positive energy it vibrated. For the next three hours I learned all about the difficulties regarding the Macedonian government and how the once special energy which had surrounded Skopje in the past was getting more and more lost, being replaced by questionable buildings and self-centred people.