October 11, 2010
In the past three weeks I have flowed down through a stream of life that has brought me to some of the most amazing and inspiring sites as well as the more horrifying and fear-inducing. I’m not sure how to start speaking of the last three weeks because it has been such a ride of emotion that I leave somewhat emotionless. A deep gratitude for the small things is with me, yet my fear has increased and is overpowering my love energy. I hope to release by saying this now.
To recap, I went to Spain with my friend Paul to join the Pleasant Revolution on tour to make a positive impact on everyone’s life that wants to be touched. It is my first time with this entire group, however I have traveled and played music with multiple people on the tour, such as Heather Normandale, Cello Joe, Jared May on bass, Louis on flute, and Fossil Fool the bike rapper. Others I know the strings of life that once I joined the tour, everyone instantly felt like brethren.
The first part of the trip was a huge challenge because it took Paul and I almost a week to gather up missing baggage from the flight and broken music gear. I felt a bit of stress that I had to stay calm about because we were working on bikes for 5 days and not doing that much music, and I came all the way to Spain to play music. I flowed with it and found some beauty in it; it was very difficult though.
Once we were able to get all the pieces together, including a bike we had to buy and assemble for myself, we took a train from Barcelona, Spain to Bourg Madame, Spain. I still did not have a sturdy seat post to ride and we were heading for the Pyranees Mountains. I was a bit nervous about it. However, things worked out last minute by finding a broom stick and using a cam trap to tighten the seat to the right size for my leg extension. It was one of many McGyver moves we had to do on this trip.
We continued on up to France to meet the Pleasant Revolution that was coming down from Toulouse, France. This is where the magic began to happen. Climbing the mountain range, eating apples along the road, meeting kind locals that fed us wine and bread for a couple songs; kindness improvisation, a great feeling. Right after getting a bit tipsy with some local Pyrenees Mountain dwellers, Paul and I came across the Pleasant Revolution speeding down the mountainside they had just climbed from the opposite direction. The feeling of meeting for friends/family half way across the world in such a moment right at dusk was exhilarating, spontaneous, and rejuvenated life force within myself and I believe all parties involved. We quickly joined them back down the hill we were climbing to go in their direction and find a campsite, it was the beginning of my look into the ‘golden bubble’. Kipchoge, the leader of the Pleasant Revolution quickly scouted out one of the best places to camp next to a river. In a matter of 15 minutes the group organized a campfire, food set out, and bikes hidden in the trees by the river. I popped open the wine I brought to share with our friends and food was prepared. We jammed into the night and shared short stories and experiences that led to the event of Paul and I meeting the Pleasant Revolution in midst of the Pyrenees.
All I can say is that this golden bubble of gypsies persisted for the next 3 weeks. Although some instances tried the group and moments the bubble might seem to pop, it held strong from the amazing abundance of patience and love that exuded from this amazing core of people.
In the first days of riding I really did not perform for anyone other then the group, yet it seemed to work out great because it was a sharing and them learning my and me learning the group. After about 4 days of camping throughout the Pyenees and doing a couple mini sets in some small towns, We finally played a real set with all the acts in Girona, Spain. It was my first time to play with Brock on drums, Jared on Bass, Joey on Cello, and Paul, Skat, and Heather doing some vocals. I instantly felt a sigh of relief to be a part of the music in such a way. I realize in the big picture that it doesn’t hold too much value in change, but it is like an athlete that feels like running, I felt like playing a show. I appreciate and value my addiction to sharing my music.
Within the first two weeks my trip was without personal problems and I felt like I was engaging to strengthen the group core by helping with load and kindness. I left my good hat in some small stop off point which I was sad about for about three seconds. My gratefulness for not losing my wallet or passport instantly stopped any self pity.
On our way to Costa Brava the group received a blow by the bike accident of the beautiful singer Heather Normandale. She slid out on dirt and gravel on a downward slope that brought about a broken left arm that needs two surgeries. The second one happens in two days. Due to this happening the group went in different directions, some had to go back to Girona where Heather was to be treated. The rest of the group continued on down to Tossa Del mar. This was one moment where I was amazed and soaking in the inner strength of Heather and the entire group. Everyone flowed with the unfortunate fall and Heather was so strong, I felt like crying; mostly tears of joy that such people exist in the world.
It was great to jump into the Mediterranean Sea, play music in small coastal towns, both acoustic and full pedal powered shows. I believe since the group was already spread out, it gave individuals more independence to go ahead of behind. Some went straight to Barcelona from Tossa De Mar, and others took a couple days and played some shows. I was with the group that lagged behind. One night on the beach Louis scouted a great cuddy of a place to sleep on the sand. Unfortunately, this is where Joey woke up with his pants fourty feet away by the ocean. His wallet, phone, and ipod were stolen inches from his head, wrapped in his pants. The amount of lost or stolen instances continued once we got closer and into Barcelona.
Now back in Barcelona, I felt sad that I was leaving the group in a few days, but also was in need of some solitude that I was not giving myself time for. I did not know how to say no when people asked me for help, therefore, I was busy doing tasks or following someone doing a task.
The adventure of the trip and the beauty was just about to take a quick turn into the dungeon of ridiculous darkness. After a show that lacked a bit of group energy at a great squat with free food, clothes, and gymnasium, we decided to continue the night with a music bike ride with the Blue whale. Everyone was very tired but it seemed to be a fun thing to do. Half way through the trip, most of the people I new left to go to bed. Five of us continued on following the sounds of the glowing blue whale while we attracted another ten to fifteen people along the way. Going from Barceloneta to La Rambla taking back streets, Paul leading the group, came across two undercover cops that instantly were attracted to the idea of stopping the blue whale and asking for documentation. It was close to two in the morning and we were playing ipod music through the blue whale sound system. This is where my trip turned into a mini-nightmare. Don’t be alarmed, I am fine now and typing from a plane going back to Philadelphia, Gratefully so!
After some low riding three wheeled drunk bikers started to make noise and a fuss saying “fucking scabs” – in regards to the police, Paul noticed they were doing this to help distract so that Paul might be able to just jump on the electric bike and be gone from the situation. Paul went for it. He got about 20 feet away before there were three cops on him. One smacked his helmet off his head and hit his face to make sure he knew he wasn’t joking around. I was video taping while the woman cop harassed me to take my camera because she didn’t want me to have this footage. Another distraction from the drunk three-wheelers which worked incredibly; all five to six cops moved away from the focus of the blue whale and on to the weirdo that was making noise and driving reckless (and slow) on the cobble stoned streets. They pushed him around to try and get him to stop and then led to holding him by his long hair. At that moment Paul realized that the cops that were close to him moved back up the hill to take part in the commotion of the drunk three wheeler dude. Paul looked down the hill to see the getaway route. There was a pedestrian standing down there and looked back at Paul with a look of ‘now’s the time if any’, giving Paul the option to make the move again. Paul jumped started running next to the bike on the small side area of the small street making his way to the corner that once he turned he could throttle and more then likely out bike any running cop. At that moment a cop with a baton, which they all had other then the first two undercover cops, started running from about forty feet away. I was in a position that was about 30 feet away. I started to yell because I saw the distance of where Paul was and the guy running full speed down the hill. I don’t remember what I was yelling but it was something like “Por favor, stop, please” speaking to the cop that started at full tilt. Within milliseconds for reaction, I moved towards the center of the street to try and plead for the cop to stop. I saw that Paul was still getting around the corner and onto his bike. I got in the cops way and he came smashing into me. At that moment I’m not sure why it happened this way, but his momentum made him go rushing down the hill to the right until about fifteen feet away he fell over. I instantly had fear rush over me realizing that the cop was now turned and running at me with a baton over his head, full speed. I ran backwards up the hill and turned around into a fist of another cop that made me stumble to my left and fall over. The baton came crashing down on my right arm sending a shocking pain that made my fear and mode of flight in hyper mode. I jumped up so fast that he wasn’t able to hit me again. Within ten more feet the undercover woman cop was trying to block my way with her arms stretched out. It was a futile effort because my adrenaline and fear was too high. I barged through her up the street with footsteps of the cop with the baton not far behind. I felt like the baton could come crashing down on my head at any moment. I had slippers on and realized that he was possibly faster then me while I was running with slippers on so in stride they slipped off and a gained traction with my bare feet and turned the first corner. There was a long straight away and his feet were within five paces of mine. I new I had to zig sag the street, yet I also new that running from a cop, let alone a militia type cop system as Barcelona, was not a smart situation to be in. I instantly turned at my first possible chance to find it was a dead end. I grabbed a pole to swing around the turn and found myself playing cat and mouse with a policeman around a police car on this twenty food long cuddy. He was out of breathe and probably as scared as I was and a bit shaken up from the entire situation. I tried to talk a bit some ‘por favor’ but realized I was just trying to by some time while I analyzed my situation. Do I run to the left and out, making it a foot race? Or do I put my hands up to go back to where my guitar, bike, wallet, and passport? I realized the risk of possibly getting hit more by running away was likely, as well as running from my identification, which I new was so important, especially being a foreigner.
I put my hands in the air and he slowly crept towards me and nudged me with the baton to walk back. I was still thinking ‘shit, shit, shit’ in that moment but felt good that I made a reconciliation where the cop went from hitting to nudging. I got back to the commotion area to realize that I was in for some abuse. They handcuffed me, turned the cuffs in ways that hurt so bad I had to scream out loud. My friend Thomas from the trip was close by. The woman cop was looking over me because I had fallen on the ground from the pain and was talking to me in Catalan and cursing me because she felt wronged by me not stopping for her. I said ‘lo siento’ I’m sorry, which turned into the men cops making their rude comments that did not stop for the next hour. I was picked up by my cuffs in the most painful of ways and pushed into a small police car where two police were to put my seatbelt on for me. They did this by prying fingers into my ribs and choking and hitting my neck and face. I was not speaking so I did not understand why they were doing this to me.
To make the longest two days and nights summarized as quick as possible I will just list the things that I experienced while going into the prison of Barcelona, Spain:
-Isolation room – around 3 hours
-took the blanket out of the isolation room
-transported to the hospital where a doctor was to check my arm abrasion
-felt like my life was threatened by the young cop taxi driver that speed through the streets and cussed at lights and other cars.
-doctor wanted to give me a tetanus shot which I pleaded not to have since I have had it before. He put a cream over the arm wound and bandage
-back to the cell before being transported to ‘catalunyan jail” in Barcelona
-from this point on I did not see if it was day or night for two days
-cops were nicer but the first room was where I had to strip down and be frisked; blood was all over the walls. I asked why the blood was there and the cops told me it was from people coming in that were bloody, or they got bloody there.
-I went into the first cell on the right where two men were sleeping
-I slept with my head 3 feet from a toilet that only flushed automatically every hour or so. The entire room and place smelt like shit and dirty socks.
-received a blanket and plastic mat to put on the pavement
-echoing shouts and talking – very loud
-spent the next twenty four hours without knowledge of anything; lawyer, contact with outer world. I later found that my friends stopped by with a number to call, but it didn’t help because they put it in my guitar case which was in another room.
-fingerprinted again, photo taken, booked.
-A day and a half later I finally saw my lawyer with an interpreter on Saturday around 10 pm. I went in late Friday night.
-A quick meeting and they told me not to worry and I will be out in the morning when I see a judge
-Saturday night a new inmate arrives in the room next door that is out of control and loud. I ask him to be quiet in the middle of my sleep. He started yelling back at me cursing in Catalonian.
-Most spoke Catalonian so Spanish was not too much of a help in communication
-Romanian inmate prayed for me and was very kind. We spoke in Spanish together but it was both our second language so it wasn’t too deep of a conversation
-After the cops told the neighboring inmate to be quite and he didn’t, they took him across the small hall from my cell (7’x15’), and proceeded to torture him with electric shock and music while he screamed through the night for hours. I listened while I tried to sleep.
-next day I was transferred in a windowless vehicle with six others to another cell where we all shared until we were released. I was the last to go at four in the afternoon. I think we got there at eight in the morning. This is where I was threatened by one of the guys in the jail cell. He only spoke Catalan but I got the gist of it. Whenever he left, a nice Pakastani who spoke excellent English told me more of the ins and outs of Barcelona culture. When the ass hole came back in to the room, we would stop talking.
-I was the last to leave the cell. The last hour or two was alone and I was finally able to sing and practice some rhythms other then tapping silently on my chest, which was my silent way to do my music in jail and feel the vibration in my body. I hope to use this technique when I do the healing session at Folsom prison.
And so life continues. I am now back in San Francisco, sitting in my room feeling grateful to have experienced hell and came back from it (i.e. jail).
Recap of the trip and the Pleasant Revolution experience:
I believe my deepest insight to this trip is that we must act in goodness now. There is no time to wait for change to happen. I have experienced a dark side of the world first hand and I know that I want to heal the people that prescribe such actions. The pleasant revolution is a cutting edge environmental social movement that is doing great work world wide. Change always comes from a small group of dedicated people pursuing their dreams and desires. The Pleasant Revolution is making it happen. I support them 100%. Love you guys!
more:
Leaving Barcelona Spain I was profiled because of the grey music case that had the mixing board, underwear, and chords. I am so frustrated because this did not happen with Paul because of the difference in appearance. I also understand that my appearance is not the normal due to the last 3 weeks biking through France and Spain. It is sad the world lives in such fear right now. I am saddened to believe I might leave this world in this state. I will do my best to relieve fear and superstitions by being a good Samaritan and allowing myself to be blessed by myself. My gratefulness will outweigh my animosity. My anger will turn to passion and strength for life and love. My thoughts will be clear when I am presented with confusion.
One way to appreciate this world
One way to love a fresh breathe
One way to sit and be in peace
One way to laugh uncontrollably
One way.
(writing back to paul days later from SF)
Hey Paul. Yes, I am home. I had some difficulties at the airport. My flight actually left at 7am in the morning. Supposedly the time you gave me was the plane from Lisbon Portugal to PHL. I wish I double checked. Luckily I had my rent money in the bank so I could buy another ticket that left at the 10:30 slot. Big bummer though...
I also found out that being 'dark skinned' with electronic devices looking like bombs is also a bad thing. They racially profiled me and gave me hell for about 45 minutes while the plane and everyone had to wait. I was so nervous because of my recent experience, as well as why they needed to be whispering around me and getting so many huge gaurds to 'control' the situation. Very frustrating. I even put the doubla thing in the luggage below the plane thinking that would help. They ended up not getting my checked baggage to me until last night. I filed another paper for lost baggage and had to buy new clothes and borrow stuff for my gig. crazy. A nice Hawaiian woman calmed my nerves once I sat down in my seat on the plane. I thought they were going to walk me down a different corridor and out to a police car for awhile; very crazy! I am realizing that being a US citizen is very good and is the reason why I was able to leave. I am feeling so sad for the world right now though and everyone that struggles with racial profiling (i.e. pakastani and middle east, mexicans and south america, Indian and asian continent 'dark skinned'. 9-11 has put this world into an unsafe area for people of color specifically to travel. At least internationally.
I am back and counting my blessings. I have a shit storm of passion though from all the injustices I have experienced in the recent week. More urgency for goodness and action. I thought of Ghandi a lot while sitting in jail. I hope that my experience fuels me as much as it did ghandi.
Be wise out there. Luckily you have the advantage of looking like an American. But still be wise. And continue to focus on the good stuff and making the Pleasant Revolution, pleasant.
Blessings to everyone on the trip and I am Safe at home. Thank you for the most adventurous trip of my life! Much love from cali and I'm thinking of everyone there tons.
Justin
On Thu, Oct 14, 2010 at 2:32 AM, Paul Freedman
wrote:
Hey Justin,
Did you make it home safely? Get a chance to breathe? Hope you're well.
Paul
--
Sent from my mobile device
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Paul Freedman
Rock The Bike!
www.rockthebike.com
Phone: Toll-free 1-888-DLG-BIKE
cell: 415-810-3696
