Last week two people gave me recommendations about who I should see at Dour.  My friend Franky had one list and Doctor Eva another.

This afternoon one of the bands was playing in The Garage … Maria Iskariot.  She was advertised as wild and free.  Accurate, I’d say.

The energy was sky high – Maria’s strident voice and her two virtuoso guitar players.  Plus the light show … and I was only a few metres away.  As I love saying, Maria “filled the room”, all the way from screaming to tender.

Despite what I said yesterday, the roofed venue was a blessing.  It was hot out in French Belgium.

How in the world did I sleep last night, with the nearby bass notes thumping my bed till 3:00 am?  Somehow I got seven hours.  Life continues to be a mystery.

I got through the night with two fluffy blankets and heavy socks.  Cold in the Tip-up.  By 8:00 am, however, the sun was toasting me through the tent’s fabric.  It seems there’s no middle ground in my festival life.

This afternoon, at a stage called Dub Corner, my ass and the rest of me boogied.  A few folks glanced at the gyrating senior but mostly people were absorbed with the music and their friends.  Fine with me.  There was no floor to dance on, just grass, and I kept stumbling, feet sticking in the uneven stuff.

***

Yesterday, after I’d received a tiny locker for charging my cell phone,  I had a thought:

You recorded the access code on your phone, which is exactly the device that will be safely stowed away in the locker.  Perhaps you should write it down.

I protested, reasoning that I was an intelligent young man who could remember seven digits.  But the conservative side of me won the day, seeing that I was often tired from the heat and the leg shimmying.

And although I’d prefer not to have the label “conservative” applied to me, today I needed the sheet of paper.

***

Soon I’m heading to De Bazaal, the main stage, with lots of room for thousands of partygoers.  And for much of the space there’s a floor.  So the running shoes can fly!

I’ll send a photo of the De Bazaal action later tonight.  Promise.

But first, here’s a shot of my palace, accompanied by other palaces, with De Bazaal in the background:

Home sweet five-day home.

And … I was floor-dancing tonight, as opposed to the grass version.  I could move my feet … in either wondrous or ordinary ways.  I can’t remember.

I just left the second show.  Got tired of the DJ pleading with us to “Make some noise!”  De Bazaal will continue for four more hours.  I won’t.

Homeward to my Tip-up.  Let’s dance again tomorrow.