The streets are narrow, forcing cars to squeeze between one another. My breath stops and my eyes scrunch as each car navigates past another. The concentration needed is like that used to thread a needle, a few millimeters are all that separates them. The buildings, whose facades show the ravages of time and the dampness of the climate, are bathed in the last remnants of golden sunlight. The delicate sea breeze carries a hint of salt that can be smelt and tasted. The surroundings begin to cool, and with the tingle of erect hair on my neck, yet the temperature is heating up in the Tres Villas Restaurant. Arms are waving, voices rising and the atmosphere is intense as Barcelona FC draws closer to victory. The great rivalry between Real Madrid and Barcelona hangs in the balance as Santiago Ezquerro Marín effortlessly weaves in and out of the Real Madrid opponents, like witches hats. Will goalie Iker Casillas be quick enough? Despite the tension and anticipation that everyone can feel in the room, it is not the loyal supporters who are stirring – needless to say, their eyes are glued to the TV. No, it is not Spanish or Catalan that the crowded restaurant could hear. It is me, in my attempt to make my English more understandable to the non-English speaking waiter.
Barcelona, the largest capital city on the Mediterranean was my third stop, with previous adventures in Canada and New York, with Paris as my next and final destination. Barcelona meant no more friendly Canadians who would talk as if they hadn’t had a conversation is years. It meant no more pushy New Yorkers who were always rushing, yet if they told you to get out of the way you would have no problem understanding them. I was heading way out of my comfort zone. With the Rocky Mountains of Banff National Park and Time Square behind me, and the city of love ahead of me, you can imagine how surprised I was to find all I wanted from a new destination in a small, unkempt tavern that was saturated by the presence of men who weren’t so small, yet upheld the unkempt nature of the place. It was my hidden delight; I just didn’t know it yet.
“Uno….er a Coca Cola,” I pleaded with my hand rattling the glass in desperation.
“And umm….uno Pe…Pa..Pealla,” I stammered.
“Paella?” the waiter questioned as he attempted to hold back a grin.
“Si, Si, gracias,” I muttered in a wacky version of a Spanish ascent.
“De nada, senorita,” he replied. (You’re welcome.)
This poetic phrase could have been the waiter telling me that I had a huge nose or that he planned to serve me rat tails instead of prawns for all I knew, but all I could muster was a smile and a nod.
It had been a long day of exploring the work of the great artistic figures that Barcelona has given birth to, with a final visit to Antoni Gaudi’s famous Temple de la Sagrada Familia. Its skeletal appearance in the form of a Latin cross with five naves, three facades, an apse and a transept was eye opening. This temple which is famous for its slender towers, which soar nearly one hundred metres over the building and are crowned by ceramic pinnacles, was not enough to distract me from the continual noise erupting from my belly. Traveling on a budget was not agreeing with my stomach; neither was attempting to place an order without ending up with callos a la madrileña – or, in English, tripe.
Despite the initial struggle with ordering – I know the waiter understood what I meant by Coca Cola, but my pronunciation of Paella and patatas fritas seemed to be a source of amusement to my neighbouring table. Nevertheless what was ahead was something that my tastebuds would never forget.
While waiting for my meal with my fingers crossed, I took the chance to absorb my surroundings. Seated towards the back of the tavern, I was the only person waiting for a formal meal. All the men had their eyes transfixed on the TV screen. The room was clouded with Spanish chatter and occasional cheers. Luckily for me, the Barcelonian team was winning, so everyone was in good spirits as they threw back their wine and tore at their bread. The bare brick walls were adorned with the ugliest tapestries and the crockery was as plain as a blank canvas, yet it was on these plates that something truly artistic appeared. Paella. A frypan was placed in front of me and I tossed its contents onto the blank canvas. I had a mouthful and felt my insides tickle with joy. It was a combination of colours and smells, with a new flavour in every bite. It was the elaborate tastes of chicken, prawns, mussels and fish with a hint of red pepper and saffron in rice, with a side order of hand crafted chips, that finally saw my stomach forgive me for what it had previously endured.
That night I could have tried to experience Barcelona by visiting the Palau de la Musica Catalana. Or I could have strolled along the Port or the Rambla, another popular tourist destination. Instead, I lived like a Barcelonian, doing what they would do, eating what they would eat. Even though I couldn’t understand them, I listened to what they listened to. All it took for me to find what I was looking for were middle aged men, a football match, a laughable attempt to speak Spanish and a satisfied stomach.
Festival organiser Meegan Jones talks about what it’s like to travel the world for work and to be behind the scenes of some of the world’s most famous and trashiest fests.
London, with side trips to Ireland, Morocco and Belgium, as well as a stopover in Hong Kong for a few days on the way home to Australia, is a rough outline of Meegan Jones’ last working trip. She’s a festival organiser who, after years of working on events in Australia, now works on events such as the Glastonbury and Leeds/Reading festivals in the UK.
Meegan’s first leg of work in the New Year will be based at her office in London. After the logistics have been finalised, she will then move onto the festivals sites, living at each of them for about a month. Onsite at last year’s Glastonbury Reading and Leeds Festivals,traveling between the two, she was living in a Bunk-a-Bin: little portable cabins complete with hot shower and toilet. She also worked at the Latitude Festival based in Suffolk/East Anglia, spending a month onsite. Before transforming the sites from farms to festivals, organisers have a month of English countryside visits and excursions to tiny villages close by – which in most cases, also means the pub.
Meegan’s main job is making the festivals sustainable. Working through all the day-to-day operations and assessing whether they are being conducted sustainably, her role is to suggest ways in which festivals can be more green in terms of energy, transport and waste.
Out of all of the UK festivals Meegan has worked at to date, the highlight has been at the Reading Festival. Her satisfaction with the project came from being able to implement several new initiatives that had considerable impact on the event. Glastonbury Festival was also an amazing festival, a “must-do for those interested in festivals,” she says. “Latitude Festival was in its second year, and is the style of festival I would put on if I were to create one from scratch,” she continues. “The attention to detail was amazing. It is an exquisite festival and was just voted the most fan friendly festival at the recent UK Festival Awards.”
Hedonistic crowds of thousands infuse the festivals with adrenaline. Meegan recalls lying in her bed one night listening to huge waves of cheering going across the site, “like a Mexican wave of cheering. It was so electric,” she says, “I got up and wandered the site with a couple of other workmates until 4am. Just being in it was incredible.” This adrenaline, however, is denied an outlet once the music ends on the Sunday night of the Leeds and Reading Festivals. It can then turn into something ugly. Meegan calls Sunday night ‘riot time’ – when “fences go down, portaloos get set on fire, tents get set on fire with people in them, the ‘angry mob’ rove the site creating chaos, gas canisters are thrown in the fires created by burning tents and mini-bombs go off,” she explains. “Lots of people have been injured over the years – eyes out, major burns, et cetera.” In a bid to protect the survival of music festivals and events, the Love Not Riots campaign was born. Created some years ago by some of the festival fans and patrons, they continue to promote safety and peace during the events. Free merchandise are given to festival goers, with the tagline ‘Love Not Riots’ printed on them.
As for festivals back home, Meegan has noted that there is an emergence and an embrace of uniquely Australian festivals, including camping festivals such as Woodford, Meredith, Falls, Peats Ridge and The Great Escape. There are also many boutique events, some with cult audiences like Folk Rhythm & Life in Victoria. Newcomers like Festival of the Sun and Gumball are also having a go. She also ‘bush doofs’ or psytrance festivals like Exodus and Earthcore.
When in the UK, Meegan recommends the Big Green Gathering and Sunrise Celebration. “Due to the number of people in the UK,” she explains, “the festival scene is really healthy and festivals can be quite specific in their style. I really loved the horse-drawn cart camp, with travelers [gypsies] living onsite, tattoo stalls selling their bits and pieces.” The big Kahuna of them all, if it’s big and pure rock concert power you’re after, is the Reading Festival. “It is legendary and the original. Glastonbury, of course, is Mecca, and you can’t say you’ve really been to a festival until you’ve been to Glastonbury.”
Back home though, Meegan loves the Peats Ridge Festival. There are no “big headliners, but the spirit of the festival, along with the natural setting, is amazing.”
With festival work being seasonal as well as on opposite ends of the globe, Meegan has unique opportunities to travel. Her favourite travel destination is Turkey. She describes the country’s natural beauty as mind-blowing. “The Aegean Sea and the south/west coast areas are stunning,” she says. “The crystal-clear water and stark cliffs and valleys right on the coast were amazing. I had some incredible times in Butterfly Valley – a must visit for anyone wanting an idealic chill space. Mostly backpackers are there, so it’s not a mix it with the locals scene, but it’s an Eden, that’s for sure.” Her cultural experience was heightened by the pride the Turkish people take in creating earthy, comfortable spaces to relax in. For Meegan, these havens engage a higher level of interaction between people. Just imagine… floor cushions and lowered tables, grapevine terraced roofs and outdoor clay ovens. These earthly comforts have inspired Meegan and she has emulated these spaces in every place she has lived in since.
Amongst all the bustle of travelling, her favourite mode of transport is train travel as it is much more relaxed than buses. “I like a bit of comfort,” she explains, “but I don’t mind bus travel when I’m backpacking. It is always fun to discover chickens under your feet or a goat at your side.” Meegan always gets excited about international flights. “I find out in advance what movies are showing so I don’t see them beforehand at the cinema,” she says. “I get all my snacks and books sorted, plan what I will wear, check in online and try like crazy to get the best seat.” Meegan recommends the one next to the window behind the exit seats – this way, you can leisurely stretch your legs and get up easily. What can’t she travel without? Chocolate and something to read. And Vegemite of course – it reminds her of home when she is away.
