Hello readers, I've just returned from a busy Easter weekend so thoguht I should report before it disappears into the ether of my mind.

Things began on Thursday (the 20th) with a job at a club on Las Ramblas called Fellini. Because everyone has off on Friday- and Monday- the Easter weeknd is one of the busiest for parties. They love to start Thursday and walk out of the sauna tuesday mornign and go into the office. So I've heard. ANYway, Fellini was a blast especially since my Friend Shanti who some of you probably know was in town and stopped by the club for a dance or two. It's her birthday week and she came to BCN with a bunch of friends to hang out. She looked amazing and it was really nice to see a home face. And she was gagging at my picture being in all these lightboxes in the club. I explained how, "yeah, things are quite different for me here." I would love to post a bunch of photos of that lovely evening but like an idiot I forgot my camera. Still not used to dragging it along with me everywhere. Will try and work on that.

Well, fortunately I remembered to bring along the old megapixels and chain to my jobs on Saturday and Sunday nights. Saturday night I played at this club literally in the middle of nowhere in the south of Italy. It was this small chateau transformed into a nightclub near the town of Bari (the heel of the boot). The space is great and it's actually outdoors covered by a gigantic tent. See...

Oh but wait I FORGOT! So of course because the promoter waited till the last minute I have the worst flight schedule to Italy. I leave BCN at 12:30am Saturday (Friday night) arriving in Bari at 2:30am. Obviously the flight is delayed because gee there's so much air traffic at that hour. Whatever. So I'm at the cafe at the gate and there's a group of young Icelandic schoolgirls giggling and carrying on. Then another one of them joins the group and I see she is sucking on a lollipop that can only be described as, well, excuse my french but, a large black dildo. I am so not joking and have the images to prove it. I almost screamed when I saw it and was trying to be subtle while photographing it but then just said fuck it. If anyone were to ask me what the hell I was doing all I would have to do is point at the damn thing and they'd understand. And probably pull out their camera too. The thing is a monster. How any candy company could actually persuade a shop to sell this thing...

I mean, COME ON!

And this was inside a 13 year old girls mouth...while she's walking around the airport!

So I arrive in Bari and true to southern italian form the driver is nowhere in sight. A few phone text messages and I find out "He'll be there-a any minuta!" 45 minutes later some guy pulls up and takes my bag without saying anything but Mavu! Mavu! which is the club I'm supposed to play at. Fine, I know this is how they roll so it's hard to get upset. Well, it's easy to get upset but pointless. W e go to the hotel and I slam down for a good 7 hours. The next day I spend wandering around the hotel which would be great if it were summer but in the winter it's a bit grim...and scary. Here's the view from the pool deck...

At night I am picked up out of the blue by some other guy, Angelo. He just shows up at the hotel at 10 and says let's go, dinner at the club. Okaaaay, a call would have been nice but hey it's the south. We head off to the club with a quick pitstop at Angelo's house so he can roll a fattie and get moved in the car on the way to Mavu. A quick 20 minutes and up a dark almost dirt driveway and we arrive at the club. As I mentioned it looks really cool and we sit and eat dinner in the tent and are treated to a divine show by these guys...

Oh yes dear readers, the Italian Bee Gee's. That is their name. A full on cover band. For an hour we are given an interesting, yet unimaginative, interpretation of the songbook of the 3 brothers from Oz. Mind you the outfits are not electric they are just white satin reflecting the light. I am seated at a table with no one who works at the club and who barely know the promoter. One out of the 4 of them speaks a little english but his hot girfriend and I sort out a friendship through the international language of smoking. This is a pic of them...

At 3am it's time for me to go on. The club is wall to wall guineas and I throw down a thumping electro set that goes over much better than I'd thought it would. I find Italians to be really good audiences cause they will dance to anything they think has a good beat or killer sound. They don't wait for the tracks they know to enjoy themselves. Much appreciated.

Now, around 5:45am the club is winding down and I'm playing my last song. Angelo, who drove me to the club, is practically falling down drunk. Throughout my set he's been warbling on the mic, "moosica, moosica, moosica...". Not sure what he means. Oh well, the south. So I ask him who's taking me back to the hotel and he says "I am." Bursting out laughing I tell him I am not getting in his car and neither should he. He swears he is fine (I know he's not), and I swear I need a taxi (which I don't get- stupid stupid me). We get in his car and I am literally texting people saying I may not make it through this. Several near collisions and a close encounter with some trees lining the road and I realize this guy doesn't know where he's going. He's so shitfaced he can't remember where he picked me up 7 hours earlier; and it's near his house! Here's what it's like- this is the guy that picked me up at 9:30...

And this is the guy that drove me home at 6am...

This message has been edited. Last edited by: Pickles2,

Finally he pulls into a cafe and tells me to hang on a second. He runs inside for a minute then comes back out waving me to come in. WTF? So I go in and he's ordered coffee and wants me to sit and have a coffee with him. My head is about to explode. By now it is 7am, I have 2 hours until I am being picked up at the hotel to drive 3 hours to the Naples airport to fly to Geneva for my next job. I walk outside and explode at him. Anyone that knows me knows that I am the last to throw a fit, but I just lost it on this guy. He agrees to not finish his coffe and then at snail's pace drives me back to the hotel that he mysteriously knows how to get to now. I have 1 hour to sleep. Oh the south.

DISCLAIMER: Ok just in case anyone reading this is from the south of Italy and getting their panties in a wad I want you to know that I have nothing against southern Italy. However, in the world of nightlife they are notoriously disorganized. It is not just something I am making up. I had been told about it and have experienced it firsthand on several occasions.

At 2pm I blissfully board the flight to Geneva not having slept in the car. I nod out for the quick ride and arrive in Geneva met by a charming guy named Nicolas and we hop a train for Lausanne where the club is. It's a beautiful ride along the Lake and I try to grab a scenic photo but every time the camera comes out it's buildings, buildings, trees, trees, trees, buildings, etc... Lausanne is just 30 mins by train and soon I am in my hotel room grabbing as much sleep as possible before dinner. 2 hours.

I get to the club around 9:30 and there's a staff dinner with drags, gogos, promoters, friends, and other djs. I meet the dj who is playing the main floor with me, a frenchman named Antoine. Excuse me, a crazy silver-eyed hunky frenchman named Antoine. Check out the color of those babies...

And then there's Luca, the long lost twin of Miss Ginger...

And this lady who is like the Irene of Jungle (that's the name of the party)...

Here's the girls gettin ready...

....

Roberto does "What You Waiting For?"...

This is the view from my booth...

The party is fierce and I get to play for a room full of sweaty men. This is kind of a novelty for me since most of my jobs over here are at straight places. This is like one of the biggest gay parties in Switzerland (I know, I know but still) and the crowd is a fab mixture of muscles, snakes, women, men, shirtless, bear, you name it. And they don't all seem to be drugfucked which is refreshing. After my set I head up to the pop/disco lounge to hear Nicolas and Luca play ping pong style (1 track per dj back and forth). They are rocking it with the biggest moment being "I've Had the Time of My Life" from Dirty Dancing. I know, barf, but when you have a room of 300 people going absolutely bonkers singing the chorus I have to admit it takes on a whole other effect. I don't know how to express it other than true jubilation. Everyone was so happy and having (the time of their life?) the best time I too got caught up in it. I was thinking how the weekend had been a mixture of ups and downs and exhaustion and inebriation and looking around at this room full of strangers I see that universal expression of "I can't believe how much fun life is". It was just a really cool moment.

And I got to make out with this guy...

You are what the Italians call (I believe ) "puta". Stop making us jealous befoe I post pics of you in a telling flesh-tomed bodysuit from "Click & Drag"!