Life: Idiotropic

Let your imaginations fly and you can probably come up with quite a few places where you could go to hear really great Blues, a dark smoky club in old New Orleans, a historical bar in New York... but in your list, you probably wouldn't picture a little village in Germany.

I certainly couldn't. But a friend had heard the Blues and arranged a time to go back bringing a small American contingent with her.

Luckily, I was one of the contingent.

In a continent where ethnicities generally remain within their own borders, history has a way of moving people around, so here in this tiny German village of Dremmen, I encountered Blues at Cafe Curioso, a cafe that is the embodiment of eclecticism, owned and run by Marin Ionescu, a Romanian artist who was the head National artist under Ceauşescu. Paintings he did adorn his walls and, hidden among piles of old papers and books in his attic antique shop, we found old Polaroids of Rembrandts, reproductions that he most likely did. He now calls himself a carpenter, art director, multimedia designer and sculpture (many of his bronze horse statues sit in the old Aachen square), deals in antiques and art, and bakes many of the delicious cakes that his German wife sells in her cafe.

When walking into the cafe there is a narrow entryway cluttered with antiques piled upon antiques, some fine and some not so fine. An old door with a stained glass window, a beautiful sideboard, piles of books and knick-knacks. Straight ahead is the small stairway leading up to a tiny room set up with more antiques and the aforementioned Polaroids. To the left is a very tiny mini-hallway leading to what looks like some one's living room... couches, little tables, little chairs off to the side. Paintings on the walls, antiques and oddities, a ceramic pig with 4 baby pigs on its back... The kitchen in the back contains an large oddly shaped island that Marin created from old church pulpits. That is where he and his wife served a beautiful spread of quiches. The "living room" was set up with a little stage area, drums in front of the cold case where the cakes sat, speakers and other sound equipment by the sideboard where the pig statue stood, and the equalizer control box right by the kitchen door where Marin stood most of the night puffing away on his big cigar and moving the little levers back and forth to control the sound.

Marin was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt big enough for a man 4x his size. I truly wish I had a photo or would have written it all down to give you a better mental picture... but he is older, with a long grey beard, long grey hair pulled back, the shirt, red athletic shoes - a short man who walks with his shoulders slightly forward and the cigar hanging from his mouth. He's a character, but he runs the show. There is nothing weak or slight. Though small and quite odd in appearance, there is no doubt that we were at his place and he was in control.

The band that played was a German band - it's lead singer in his late 30's, the guitarist a bit older, and the drummer probably only 16. What was amazing was the sound. It didn't sound like Germany. Closing my eyes, I could have been in any Blues bar in the U.S. - any where, but Dremmen, Germany. Watching the singer's facial expressions was hilarious. That man put all his heart and soul into that music. So for hours that night, in a room packed completely with Americans, we all stood listening to the soulful sound of America coming from this German band in a cafe run by a Romanian artist. It's a beautiful thing.

Served prosecco as we arrived, quiche at the break-time, and cake with coffee towards the end of the evening, those who stayed latest were there until after 0100 dancing, enjoying the moment. We left at 1130 - with books in hand - books that Kirk found there - amazing books documenting the 1936 Olympics in Germany complete with photographs pasted in that the owner would have had to get at cigarette shops. They are an interesting piece of history.

So, that's night one of more to come. All who went want to go again. All who couldn't go want to know when the next night is... it looks like we might have to have a party soon.

Laura is pregnant and her mother was visiting, so she also accompanied us in Leuven. She is a quiet woman and very kind. My kids instantly went to her even though they couldn't speak the same language. Romanian sounds a lot like Italian. I spoke Spanish with her a little and we could understand some, but not enough.

Laura is excited to find out the sex of her baby. So is her mom. Laura told me that the other day her head felt itchy, so she went to scratch it and was disgusted to find it gritty. After a few moments, she realized that there was salt in her hair - a lot of it. Her mom had liberally salted Laura's head. If Laura smelled the salt on her fingers touching her fingers to her nose, then she would have a boy (according to her mother). If she tasted the salt, then she'd have a girl. Watching Laura with her mother demonstrates a sharp image of the old and new worlds - not unlike the bug in the square!