Sometimes life is a fountain of chocolat
Like I said: busking won’t make you rich money-wise. There are far better reasons to play in the streets though: all kinds of things cross your way. Not only Bulgarian accordeonists looking for rich unmarried women from the north of Europe to have coffees with (see my previous report, May 2010)
Salvador for example, was a completely different story. He was walking arm in arm with his wife when he saw me playing at the boulevard with my guitarcase at my feet and my red hat as my officious trade mark. Together they choose a bench that looked out over the sea and they sat there listening quietly for about an hour. Only when I started to pack my things, they came over to buy a cd. Soon I knew a lot about their daughter, their work, their holidays and, of course, life in Cádiz. They were curious to know what Holland was like, what my music was about and what I was doing in Spain. Like Spanish people do, they explicidly said that I was more than welcome at their place in Santa Maria if I’d be around there some time. And like Spanish people do, I said I would certainly pass by then. And eventhough these promises always made me a little warm inside, I didn’t expect to see the friendly Salvador or his wife again.
But a few weeks later we met by chance again, at exactly the same spot on the boulevard. They had enjoyed listening to the cd and they had been looking for me on the boulevard; we had been there on different days. He was planning the celebration of his 50th birthday and they would like me to come and sing if I wanted to, in August. It was May now. Eeerr.. yeah, sure! We exchanged phone numbers. I had never seen a Spaniard before that planned things further ahead then tomorrow. You see, planning things for tomorrow is necessary not to have to do them today; there’s no reason at all to plan things for any day passed tomorrow though. So I didn’t really know what to think of his story. Well, I would find that out in summer anyway, I’d see.
But to my surprise I did receive an sms from Salvador two months later, and soon after that he personally gave me an invitation for his party at the boulevard.
The location was beautiful: the round high tables looked elegant under the white cloths, tied together close to the ground. There was an impressive buffet and I was free to try everything on it as Salvador’s “special guest”, as he explicidly told me a few times, and there were comfortable lounge-corners with big pillows to sink in. Everywhere I could see little lights flickering; also in the garden that had an open connection to the room, and a big ovale bar besides the “entrance” made the picture complete. This was something quite different from the street. Everything became even more unreal because everyone had stuck to the dresscode “white”, and when the Salvador and his wife revealed a true fountain of chocolat with all kinds of fruit as a dessert, all that I could do was smile happily. Now I knew for sure that this was for real: I would never make up something as bizar as this myself.
I only had to play about five songs, so I would have enough time to “make myself comfortable, enjoy and have a good time too”, but after those few songs I sold more cd’s then I ever did at one night. After two more hours of dancing I said goodbye to Salvador, his wife and daughter, and the other guests that had stayed. I didn’t know if I would ever see them again. I didn’t think so. I did hope so. Who knows.
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans,” (John Lennon). Sometimes life is a fountain of chocolat, John.
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