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GUCA FESTIVAL II
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The view of the village from our host's house, which was about a 10-minute walk up the hill from town. Most homes had large gardens of flowers, vegetables and animals -- I suspect many of the pigs that I passed on the way down in the morning were served in thick pita pockets by 8 pm. |
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A Dada-style collage of our house, which had a few separate structures and a central garden/porch you see on the left. My room, which I shared with a Spaniard who slept like Linus from Peanuts, is behind the camera. |
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An estrogen fest -- our host, on the left, who spoke about as much English as I do Serbian. She could ferment plums (slivovice) and whip up a gibanica (layered cheese pie) like nobody's business, though, so we let her stay. Seated: Lisa (Sweden), Cristina (Germany), Alisha (Oregon, and she quit her job to be with us!), me. |
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This is way more fun that violinists coming to your table. The first band Lisa and I found, I believe, after bailing on the official stage performances. |
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Okay, an official stage performance, but it's the legendary Boban Markovic and his orkestar, so we had to listen. And jump around like maniacs. |
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The best in Gypsy Brass, hoisting my Gypsy Ass, baby. Apparently, these guys are now in Boban Markovic's band, according to Lisa, who saw them again in Sweden in spring, 2004. |
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The elf shoe maker. I thought he was just a mythical elder of lore, but no! I also thought about buying that big shoe and canoeing home in it. |
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Me looking coked up, Lisa and Alisha, posing with two Danish guys (Thomas and Johannes) that were camping on someone's front lawn. |
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Lisa and me in front of the symbol of the festival and city, a bronze trumpeter atop a large concrete base. Friday and Saturday nights, this was a jungle gym for drunken frat-types. I would never do that. |
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