May 2008: Festival Season Kicks Off With Mighty Squelch

9th May: Live show at The Croft, Bristol. Couple of new tracks in the set being fine-tuned.. Adam Form (http://www.myspace.com/thedjform) kindly put us up for the night and provided plenty of slapstick entertainment, (one second he's there on his chair fairly compos mentis and the next he's managed to fall flat on his back not looking like he knows where or who he is). We're up into the early hours. Sun comes up, probably good idea to catch a bit of sleep.

10th May: Everybody we spoke to yesterday in Bristol treated us like a close relative had died when we told them we would be playing in Swindon on the way back. Riff's Bar proudly announces that it's winner of the Pub Venue of the year for 2007. Pub gigs remind me of being 16 again and our singer being heckled by an old drunk man at Esquires in Bedford. We get fed (the equivalent of being treated like kings). A totally random assortment of people in the crowd. Up front there's a long-haired rocker moshing like there's no tomorrow. Next to him there's a couple in their 50s totally having it. The Swindon Review has turned up to interview us and hail our grand debut here. Love it.



In a lot of pain from yesterday's performance, getting too old for this.

18th May: The Agincourt, Camberley. Another haven for rockers. In Spinal Tap fashion, we accidentally managed to book ourselves for this gig sometime last month and didn't realise til we saw our names headlining some posters last week. Evident administrative errors and complications kick up a few arguments within the band. Nice stage, sound not so great and a handful of people soak up the sound in the this 600-capacity venue. Kimba gets the set down on video and we watch it a few days later to check out what we really look like on stage. Why did nobody tell me that thing I do with my leg looks crap?

24th May: The Boileroom, Guildford. Got to support the amazing Wobbly Squadron. ( http://www.myspace.com/wobblysquadron) What I love about their set most is the crowd literally stomping. It's kinda like psy-barndance (if that isn't a musical genre, it should be). Mental note to hunt them down at festivals and enjoy them properly. I think my neck still hurts from a couple of weeks ago.

25th May: Komedia, Brighton. This had all the hallmarks of being a great show.. organised by some of the top promoters in Brighton, great venue, amazing line-up. We turn up to find our slots been switched from primetime 2am to the 3am graveyard shift. The stage manager seems to have forgotten to add in changeover times. We roll on at about 3:30am.

A good test-run for breaking in Chris Kingskin (http://www.kingskin.com/), the new sound engineer. (Or more affectionately known as Swampy since he looks like he just got pushed out of a tree somewhere off the Newbury Bypass).

29th May: Sunrise Festival. (aka Mudrise/Mudfest/Shitrise) A million rumours fly around at the Solstice Services Little Chef. It's postponed til Friday / Only crew and artists are allowed in and even they're being towed in / The whole site is being rearranged, they're swapping the car park with the main site / It's completely cancelled / There's a secret entrance if you go down by the diesel tankers and tap L, R, L, R then push both shoulder buttons down at the same time.

Seemed there was a certain amount of dissent amongst the Sunrise organisers. Some were saying the flash floods were a blessing in disguise because the vibe just wasn't right this year.

30th May: Basingstoke Canalfest. Well we were all packed up and ready for a party so we headed to Mytchett instead. Three reasons why Basingstoke is better than Sunrise:

1. Car boot sale. (Now strongly believe this should be a major feature of all festivals now. Scrap Lost Vagueness, bring in the mother of all car boot sales to take it's place)
2. Rowboats paddling on water rather than your vehicle sinking in mud
3. Not getting woken up by shit trance


Above: some of the spoils from the car boot sale

April 2008: Stu's married!

Stu finally tied the knot with Nat this month. All of Subsource were in attendance at the magnificent wedding which was one damn fine party into the early hours. His mortgage also passed through the same weekend and of course he's pretty much as bald as can be, but fear not Subsource fans, we'll be keeping a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't start reaching for pipe and slippers in favour of mighty bass action.



The Far Too Loud/Subsource collaboration, "You Know The Sound", has been released and is doing amazingly well. It reached the number one top all-genres slot at Juno, and top breaks slots over at Beatport and Chemical Records so huge congrats to them for pulling out such an awesome production.

Earlier this month, we had a great show up in Bolton where the crowd were really up for it. Earned us a column in The Fly this month too it did.






I like playing in Bolton, it makes me feel pretty



The Gash Collective definitely know how to run a party, so if you're up in that area, I definitely recommend heading to one of their nights. Unfortunately they've had their van nicked recently so head along and contribute generously. I feel like I'm talking out van empathy (our trusty old 'El Diablo Bastardo' racked up an £600 MOT bill at the beginning of April and another £300 cambelt repair bill this month but to actually get stolen entirely would be devastating).



We've been relatively quiet this month what with working around Stu's wedding, but we're back up and running with new tunes at no less than five scheduled dates throughout May, culminating in the first festival of the season. Hooray! (although given the amount of administrative errors that have occurred in the booking process so far, I'll actually be surprised if we end up playing at Sunrise at this very moment in time)

Our chums over at Parka have released their debut album on Jeepster today, best of luck to them, they deserve to do mightily well indeed.

"a must see live band." Q Magazine
"pure adrenaline inducing, effervescent, speeding enthusiasm" The Sun
"Ferociously infectious" Losing Today.
http://myspace.com/parkamusic

This month's dates are in Bristol, Swindon, Guildford and Brighton.. keep an eye on the site for details.

March News

Not too much to say about the Clockwork show. It was late, there was nobody there bar a few of our most-loved friends and fans. Tim Westwood didn't show up as advertised on the flyers (to the relief of many). Lethal Bizzle did their thang but I totally missed them.. was having a proper snooze in the van at the time. Apparently the promoter booked them for £4000 and at peak, there were only about 100 people in the venue. Ouch. Promoting is not a pretty job.



Rhythm Factory, a night run by No Rest For The Wicked and the Step 13 crew, pushing live drum n bass. Damn fine night. Got interviewed for the DnB Arena TV, but not particularly looking forward to it going up. Our interview skills are still leaving a little to be desired.


Above: Step 13 in action


Above: The 'No messin' pose


Above: Ace crowd at No Rest For The Wicked at Rhythm Factory. Their next night is Friday 11th April. Proper dark and dirty. Do it.

This month also saw Stu's stag in Amsterdam take place. Despite Nelly organising it, it actually went alright - although I suspect this was mostly down to chance. I'd love to be able to dollop out the gossip but there just doesn't seem to be anything I feel like talking about right now so ha.

Some of you may recall that at Christmas, I was editing a load of video footage taken on the road, mostly taken by Kimba. I'm pleased to announce it's now gone live on youtube. Head there and search for 'subsource road diary'.. there's about 12 vids there, and maybe of interest to you especially if you were at any of the following: Scala, Hoxton Bar and Grill, Welly Club (Hull), Q-Bar (Cardiff), Glasto, New Cross Inn or Joshua Brookes (Manchester). On average, we might leave for a gig at 4pm, to return maybe at around 8am the following morning. If you wonder what we get up to in those 16 hours, these videos might just tell you.

We've been very lucky indeed to be able to collaborate with breaks giants, Far Too Loud. Had a chance to mosh properly to them properly at The Synergy Project just before the Palestine trip and this trio (Dom, Oli and Oli) were seriously laying down some wicked beats. And they're probably the nicest guys you'll find in the breaks world. Their upcoming release, "You Know The Sound", features Stu on vocals and you can get a sneaky peek over on their Myspace. Release date is imminent.


http://www.myspace.com/fartooloud

We had a meeting yesterday and it looks like we might well have an album on our hands very soon. There are plans in motion to do our next single as a self-release, perhaps landing around late summer time. Exciting stuff. And looking at the budget we need, scary too.

James, our resident sound engineer who has worked with us since last summer has finally decided to do something that's actually worthwhile with his life now, and sadly will be leaving us, so we'd like to say a big thankyou to you for all your hard work and tolerance over the past 9 months. We'll cherish many happy memories and moments of seeing you kick lesser in-house sound engineers into shape and wish you all the best.. will miss ya!


Above: James steps up to cover Scatman John on pre-gig karaoke

The Journey Home

A quick visit to the Nativity Church, where I spend an hour trying to figure out how I got so much dust on the sensor of my camera and attempt a futile clean-up using the equipment I have on me. Then a small wander through the narrow market streets of Bethlehem. I figure it's a pretty small town and that's confirmed when I spot someone I recognise.

Susana is at a cake stall with a couple of foreigners, I assume they're part of some Palestine-supporting campaign. She's pleased to see me, but waves a 'wait a second' finger at me as she is engaged in an intense conversation with the shop owner which lasts for a couple of minutes. She's doing all the talking. Suddenly she's done and nods her head and we move on to meet her husband Farid. "I am very angry, these cakes cost one shekel each and they try to sell them to those foreigners for five shekels, it's not right. I had to tell them off. I was very angry". I smiled. Typical Susana, I thought. I barely know her, but I get the gist that she's always campaigning or scheming for a just cause at any given minute of any day. For that she has my deepest respect.

"Did you hear the news? It's terrible." At least 60 more have been killed in the Gaza Strip in more airstrike attacks. The Circus have not made it to Ramallah as planned due to heavy protests and a curfew emplacement. The Palestinian Authority have declared tommorow as a day for national mourning over the events that have taken place in the past 48 hours. It all just seems to be escalating. Back at the hostel, the residents are transfixed to the Al Jazeera news channel - overtones of the 2005 London bombings as a population is drawn to the slowly disseminating information from a constant channel broadcast. It would certainly an odd time to be a clown in Palestine right now.

The snoring man seems to have discovered new frequencies that penetrate my earplugs and just as I think I'm about to drop off into a nice slumber, my phone's ringing at full volume and I'm scrabbling around for it in the dark. Stuey is ringing me and I've no idea why. Then it dawns on me in a pretty sickening way that he's at Heathrow and the flight I was supposed to be on touched down a couple of hours ago. Fuck it. The Circus way of life has definitely got to me out here.

I promptly book a ticket for the next day, although the temptation to stay for another couple of weeks does cross my mind.

Susana warned us well in advance that the Israeli airport security doesn't take kindly to people with footage from inside Palestine. "They don't want the world to see our side of the story." With this in mind, Mauro and me have decided to do a little bit of camera swapping to deflect unwanted suspicion. It would be gutting to lose all the footage and photos we've collected. I've burned DVDs with every photo I've taken, and have two sets of encrypted files in hidden folders on my laptop hard drive. Mauro has only one copy of his tapes, and Ruth's ingenious plan of separating the big-ass professional video cam from the tapes is in action. We venture into the airport and split up so that the pieces of the puzzle would be harder for them to put together, but I guess anyone travelling alone in this region registers more interest. They pull everything out of my luggage and swab everything down for testing. As they do so, I think of Jen's slightly bent fire-staff of doom, and hope that I never got near enough to it for explosive chemicals to leave their mark on me. As they go through my entire inventory, I get an uneasy feeling of worry that I may well have left my pen-knife in the hand luggage I gave to Mauro to take through. Fuck it. Hanging out with the Circus has definitely had an effect.

On the other side of security, I spot Mauro with his dark sunglasses on, reclined right back into a chair with one leg jiggling up and down wildly. I fear he's either had one coca cola too many or he's been anal probed by an overzealous security guard. I approach to ask him the time. "GET AWAY! I think they're following me". I leave him be and conclude that I definitely left my knife in that bag. Oops.

12 hours later, one plane, two trains and a bus trip further, I meet up with him outside Bank tube station. He forgives me quite quickly about the whole knife thing. I can't remember whether he said it was the worst moment of his life or the most exciting one when he was bumrushed by six guards at the security checkpoint. The halfway point between being apologetically responsible and proudly responsible is to feel quietly content.

I joined the Circus just over two weeks ago wanting to know more about these crazy people who would pull this kind of stunt off. Somewhere along the way, I decided I felt the need to support the people of Palestine but aside from boycotting avocados (and other Israeli products), I figured there's not much I can really do. I'm certainly not as driven like Susana or any of the Circus girls, I'm just a musician riding on the perpetual crest of the almost-made-it-wave.

My 12:30pm student shows up slightly late and drops his guitar on the floor in a way that means I'll get to watch him spend 5 minutes tuning it up again. This one always makes polite conversation to make up for the fact that he hasn't practised.

"Hey, how was your holiday? Where was it again?"
"Great thanks. Palestine."
"What? With the rockets?"

Before I knew it, I was dishing out a proper rant (like one of Laura's, but mine definitely lacked her decibels), mixing up clown stories with tales of economic sanction and checkpoint nightmares with tear gas adventures. He really didn't look like he was expecting this, but for me, that was all the more reason to keep going. I finally paused to recompose and change today's topic of education to legends of rock: Whitesnake. He doesn't reach for his pick straight away. "That wall really sounds like it sucks."

My work here is done.


In hope they may one day update their website:
http://www.circus2iraq.org/

Final Day: Protest in Bilin

For a minute I panic that I've overslept because I've woken up and there's just me and the snoring guy in the room. I find the others later dotted around the hostel having sought somewhere quieter to sleep earlier in the night.

At the Israeli-Palestinian border at Bilin, the security fence placed by the Israelis is well inside the recognised border line and cuts off much of the farming land that belongs to the village's farmers. Israelis call it necessary for security, but the Palestinians call it a land grab.



On the way through, there's a pretty modest number of buildings and a couple of simple grocery shops (to my dismay, neither of them sold onions) but it seems that this tiny group of residences is a shining example to many Palestinians for managing to hold out against the Israelis for 3 years. In this small village of indomitable Palestinians, I half expect to find a cauldron of magic potion bubbling away and being dished out to the locals, but I'm told that for the 3 years they have held out against annexation by way of peaceful protest. Each Friday afternoon, local villagers and foreign activists gather to attend the weekly protest as a reminder to the Israeli authorities that they will not give up their land easily.







In the morning, the Circus provides the locals with some welcome light relief. On this gorgeous day, kids sit on walls and families watch from nearby rooftops as the clowns once more wreak comic havoc in an environment that feels subdued by constant pestering of an army on the doorstep.

After the show, we wait at the protest organiser's house. Not a home anymore, the downstairs has been made a base of organising resistance operations. It is kept bare for meetings - cheap plastic seats line the walls under activist posters and photos.





As the protest and media gathers outside - there's a kind of lazy Friday afternoon vibe as an SUV pumps out some dance music across the road and an old guy on saxophone meanders out some tunes. Kids set up markets and sell wristbands and handbags with the Palestinian flag on it. All we need is a copious amount of booze and drugs (both of which also help counter tear gas allegedly) and I could easily mistake this for any UK summer festival.



The Arab-owned MBC (Middle-East Broadcasting Corporation), one of the most globally-recognised news channels for the Arabic-speaking world is here for the Circus, to hear what their story is. There is confusion about the exact situation - it appears the broadcaster was expecting them to perform by the security barrier at the head of the protest but over some discussion, it's realised that this is a dangerous and somewhat irresponsible stunt. To draw children into the heated action is reckless and no doubt the news broadcaster would just love to have a clown shot by a rubber bullet on his coverage. Last week's protest saw an American activist shot in the head and the Arab media frenzy on that still rings on around Bilin. The Circus takes the sensible option and agrees to do some performances at the back of the protest, well away from any Israeli soldiers. The reporter looks a little disappointed and I feel an urge to injure him.


Above: Protesters carried this small coffin and a bundle to mourn the 6-month old baby killed in Gaza yesterday. Later, we find the guy who carried it got shot in the back with a rubber-coated steel bullet.







So we hang well back from the confrontational part of the protest and we hear regular 'thunks' of tear gas canisters being fired. (Perhaps perversely, I find this to be a really good sound) Jen and Ruth captivate some on-looking boys with firesticks and poi. Laura has taken a few younger girls under her wing and appears to be having entertaining conversation with them. Jo and Annie talk to an old embittered man who comes to tell us the story of the pile of rubble on the roadside that was a brand new health clinic - bulldozed by the Israelis due to it violating their building laws despite it being on Palestinian land.


Before he finishes his story, a couple of hissing projectiles have landed only about 20m away. Circus, kids and camera crews pack up and run.

With some distance between us and the gas, Annie is administering onion to the crying clowns. My lungs are burning but that's probably from having held my breath for the best part of a minute under a steady jog. For the kids with streaming eyes, I guess it's just another weekly dose of chemical weapons.





We don't stick around for long, there's another show to get to in Jerusalem. We hold up a checkpoint queue for about 20 minutes as all the Circus items get x-rayed. On the outside, I'm tutting and tapping my foot impatiently in solidarity with the queue of Arabs behind me. On the inside I'm pissing myself laughing as the guard has demanded to see the knife in Jo's bag. She's grinning as she waves the breadknife at him. "Uh, really don't think I could do much damage with this!" and she pokes it playfully in the guard's general direction. Meanwhile, just behind her, Ruth's stilts and Laura's inflatable globe (ingeniously constructed from a giant blue-space hopper and cut-out map sections) seem to have jammed the x-ray machine. In my head, Benny Hill music rolls on. I consider joining in the antics by moonwalking up to the bulletproof security window with my arse hanging out, but think better of it.



This is my final show with the Circus, so today I pay less attention to the camera viewfinder as my role of capturing moments with the Circus comes to an end. Instead I take more time to appreciate the show, the clowns' fine talents (I realise that they're actually pretty good) and the scenery. In the Palestinian district of Silwan, East Jerusalem, the stunning wall of the Old City sits on the skyline, but the troubles run below the streets. Israeli-led archaeological tunnel digs beneath Silwan are causing structural damage to buildings here, and there is a heavy suspicion that this is another tactic for Jewish settlers to lay claim to non-Israeli land and intimidate Palestinians further in the process.












My final day with the Circus has been a long, tiring one and the snoring twat at the Hostel really hasn't helped. Rather than celebrate, it's a fairly early night. I say my goodbyes to the Circus as tomorrow I will spend my last day here visiting Bethlehem. They will leave early for a show and head on to Ramallah. It's been a fascinating journey, getting to know the Boomchucka clowns and the people of Palestine and I'm sad to be leaving both.

Day 12: Airstrikes in Gaza

The Circus has a rare day off. It's quite incredible really, to be able to come to a country with an act like this who have nothing booked - but then with the help of contacts such as Susana and putting the word around to as many people as possible, to pretty much fill in a diary so that there's a show or two every single day. I guess it helps that what they do here is pretty novel and they offer their services for free. It's a liberating experience not knowing what's going to happen from one day to the next but still being an intense journey. It's been a real rollercoaster ride but I'm feeling an onset of melancholia as my time here will shortly becoming to an end. On the plus side, I'm pretty happy today as it looks like Subsource are set to play Glade this year.

I spend the day wandering through the Old City, looking at trinkets that I'm not really interested in. I express an extremely vague interest to a gangly guy who's selling musical instruments. They all look nice but they sound pretty shit. Tourist fodder. He tries the hard sell. "You first customer of the day so you get good price." Word-for-word, the Lonely Planet guide said that's what they'd say. Then, "Me like China very much, you not from USA so give you good price". Within about 3 footsteps he's gone from 1000 shekels (£125) down to 50 shekels (£6.25), but an Early Learning Centre toy still makes a better sound than that piece of crap.

Unknowingly, I stumble across a doorway to the Muslim's holiest place here - the Dome of the Rock. The giant gold turnip roof is mindblowing and as I approach the gateway, I fully expect the overly-serious, frowning, lumbering guy to tell me that non-Muslims can't come in. He does this, but not before a grin breaks across his face and he's half-hopping, half-dancing and singing, "Jackie Chan! Jackie Chan!", whilst pointing one finger in the air in a side-to-side motion. His machine gun flails around wildly in the other hand.

I venture into the main, modern city of West (Israeli) Jerusalem. It's your typical Westernised city. They are lacking in hair products for men. They do have the complete range of L'Oreal products at the Superdrug-equivalent but then it's just industrial-sized tubs of fluorescent coloured hair gel.

In the evening, there is news that in response to Hamas Palestinian rocket attacks from Gaza onto nearby Israeli towns, there have been Israeli airstrikes onto Gaza, in which at least 12 have died, including four children. Gaza is many miles from where we are in the West Bank - we're not worried about our own safety, but there is concern for the general situation. Sending in jets like this and accepting this many civilian casualties sounds like a pretty damn heavy-handed method. This isn't a tactic of a government taking out some rebel militants, but a tactic to cause intimidation of a populace.

Tomorrow, we will be heading to Bi'lin village for a show and then head on to the protest which happens each Friday. Internet research shows to expect tear gas and rubber bullets. The veteran protesters amongst the clowns recommend sniffing an onion to combat the effects of tear gas. And just hope you don't take a rubber bullet in the eye or that's it. Cunningly, I've got some swimming goggles to prevent chemicals from getting into my contact lenses and to fend off rubber bullets but Ruth astutely points out that a bullet would probably go straight through flimsy plastic.

There is one non-Circus guy in the hostel room who is driving everyone absolutely insane with his continuous heavy snoring and lack of sleep is definitely having a negative mental effect on everyone. Earplugs may feel weird to sleep with at first but I rank them as the most important item I've brought with me.

Day 11: The Youth Club

The morning starts with one of the rowdiest shows so far. At times, I worry that there's going to be a stage invasion - the kids are getting so caught up in it. The audience sprawls laterally as everyone clambers for a better position to see the show and so the girls quickly adapt to an encompassing 360-degree audience. The difference between how disciplined schools are is obvious.


Above: They are pretty spent after each show



There are the UNRWA schools, funded by the UN which are excellently equipped but places are in high demand. There are private schools where the parents pay up front each term (but due to the poor economy, lessons often continue where parents have been out of work and cannot pay) and also there are the government schools. Here, it's not uncommon for teachers to go for months without being paid due to the cash-strapped Palestinian Authority Government. (Just one of many by-products of the Israeli-imposed fincancial sanctions)

In the afternoon, it's another show, this time at an after-school youth club. Kids of all ages in the community have rallied together on a beautiful afternoon. To my irritation, I seem to be getting a lot of attention. Up until now I thought I'd been doing a pretty good job of not distracting from the Circus activities, but here the kids are surrounding me, touching my hair and posing more than usual for their photos to be taken. I soon discover why: Mohammed, one of the youth leaders has told them I'm Jackie Chan's cousin.









It's customary and respectful to spend plenty of time talking and socialising with your hosts, so after the show, we're there for a couple of hours getting to know more about the youth club and the organisers. (Compares directly to a Subsource gig, where it's customary to get completely shitfaced with the organisers after a show.) The main guy is a teacher and describes how he has to cross a checkpoint between his home and the school where he works. Sometimes, he's held there for hours. As he continues about how he has to smuggle schoolbooks in to avoid confiscation, my eyes drift upwards and around the room. From the massive hoard of football trophies on the wall, this appears to be a very active, organised youth club (I'm sure when I was a kid, we turned up, then just snuck round the back alley to neck Diamond White til our parents came) In centre-place, there is a modest printed A4 mono poster of a serious-looking boy who presumably went to this thriving group at some point. It's unmistakably a martyr poster. Like the scores of faded, weather-beaten posters I've seen in the towns, I don't understand the arabic that goes under the face, but it's shown as proudly as the rest of them. This one does not look like a gun-toting guerilla or a stern man in a suit. In the context of all the other laughing and jovial kids today, this is a much more real 14-year old boy in a formal jumper who probably did better in science than in P.E., had a crush on the girl over the road and I've no doubt he would have been belly-laughing like the rest of them at the Circus clowns. Instead, I'm looking up at his face with a plethora of tangled emotions with my imagination running wild about who he was and what rite of action he took in order to earn his posthumous place amongst the glittering sporting achievements.

I get to know Mohammed better - he has a wicked sense of humour. The Circus alreadys knows that comedy is a universal language. I'm 5'3 and he towers above me at 6'6 and we have laugh about the difference and the problems. Since I've been here I've been very attentive to the music around me, not entirely convinced that music is as universal a language as comedy is, with foreign scales and instruments with heavy overtones causing a language barrier in itself. Mohammed at least is very into Santana and is one of the few Palestinians that would very much like to learn guitar. (I get the impression that Western music is not quite trusted which to me is no bad thing since it means that MTV will not penetrate it's way here any time soon) I offer to teach him a lesson or two if the chance ever arises and he says he will save up to buy an instrument. He pats me on the back and I ask him if I'll see him again when the Circus performs at a local school later in the week and he says he can't. Because of the checkpoint.

On the way out, I'm cornered by some kids keen to practise their English skills. "What is your name?", and "How old are you?". Then they try something a few times in Arabic before they run off to fetch a translator, who says helpfully, "They want to know what hair product you use".

In the evening, Jo and I slink off to pig out on a huge plate of overpriced Chinese junk food. The food here is damn tasty, healthy and very affordable, but it's been a long day and it seems like a reward to chow down on something familiar, dirty and overpriced. Veal fried rice for me - it's like beef but naughtier.


Above: Who wants VO5 matt clay?

Day 10: Day of Rest

With bleary eyes, I'm woken up by Jen and Ruth getting ready to leave. The taxi turned up ten minutes ago and all-in-all, it sounded like a pretty good excuse to have a day off and I catch up with a bit of blogging and photo editing.

A nicely chilled day - the Hostel is definitely feeling like a home from home, largely thanks to a speedy Internet connection (and therefore also fresh Family Guy episodes). I guess there has been a subtle change of social graces at hostels across the world, where travellers are now often found huddled around laptops in the communal areas. In the evening, between his circus practice, (Mauro the video-cameraman is now the best juggler out of them all), he starts his informal documentary. Seedily, he keeps referring to this as his 'private tape', which mostly consists of Jo, the natural clown, arsing around hilariously for the camera.


The latest in Circus fashion: Frogsocks

As wine is being drunk by the bottle, from the bottle - the girls flip between topics that has them in fits of laughter and giggles (often beyond my comprehension) and also discuss improving the show, "These kids might see the Circus once in a lifetime, so it'd be nice if it wasn't shit". With the political backdrop, it's easy to forget that they're performers at heart and it's impressive to see they can take their act as seriously as their more serious dialogue.

Meanwhile, I have been banned from the Faisal for cavorting with the guests there despite the fact I'm staying at the rival Palm Hostel next door, and discover a steady influx of familiar faces that have moved too. Discussing how shit the Faisal is compared to the Palm Hostel is an easy starter conversation. Later in the evening, I find that coincidentally, Klaus has also made the move. Nothing like a friendly-neighbourhood stalker.

Day 9: Palm Hostel

Walid the taxi driver I think quite fancies himself as part of the circus now and this morning, he's showing off his skills by raising me up above his head in a variety of manoeuvres and poses.



Another show at a school in the Abu Dis area of Palestine.





The tarot cards from the previous day seem to have had a negative vibe on some of us. Laura tells us of her dream - in it, she was an undercover agent working for the Palestinians against the Israelis, but then she's discovered. They try to gouge her eyes out and she tries to tell them that she's really a Westerner but they don't believe her and also threaten to chop her hands off if she resists. We tell her that's pretty full-on, and she astutely realises that translates to, 'that's fucked up'.



Laura is an incredible character - vociferous, determined and courageous. As an American Jew in Palestine, that could well be the most disliked mixture of origins that anyone could be here, but it's exactly for that reason that she's here - to achieve what she can and do her part to undo some of the damage that the American government has done here. Total respect to her, and I'm so glad that the majority of Palestinian people share this sentiment.

Today, she seems to have mislaid 90 shekels.

The show is in cramped conditions compared to what they're used to but again, the kids love it. I'm starting to feel a bit sick of the sight of children.

Ruth has managed to make an administrative error in booking shows because she was looking at the 2009 section of the diary. I'm starting to wonder how anything has ever worked out okay, but I think she's one of those who somehow always manages to land on her feet.

We decide (or rather, it wasn't decided, but just seemed to happen without discussion) to split up and have some of us stay with Susana and some of us stay at a hostel in Jerusalem to help ease the burden of hostessing for seven people when you've got a husband and four kids to look after. We try out the Palm Hostel - next door to the Faisal Hostel. This is a much, much, classier affair for not much more money, but hot water seems a little sporadic and I'm still braving cold showers. My sperm count must be rocketing.

In the evening, I pop next door to the Faisal in search of beers at request of the girls and to my great pleasure, Martin is there - our Palestinian affairs guru from day 6. He looks like he and his girlfriend have been hitting the shisha pipes for a while before I'd got there and he helps fill out some questions that I'd had about the situation. I tell him that when he talks about the 'First Intifada', I have no idea what he's talking about, and he leaps from his seat so fast that his glasses very nearly come clean off his nose. He's pretty much crapped himself as he's so excited to be able to talk about all of this to someone who wants to learn. He rushes me to the map of West Bank on the wall (the one that I came close to stealing a few days ago) and explains the two intifadas are periods where the Palestinian people have had a mass uprising and rebelled against the occupation - often marked by the use of suicide bombers against Israeli targets. In my head, things begin to shift - we hear of the awful terrorist attacks on the news, but these are the desperate actions of a people who are suffering and choking at the hands of others, and for the most part, there is very little they can do.

As Martin talks passionately and fervently about the dismal state of affairs late into a somewhat hazy night, he is despondent. For all he knows and for all his energy behind the Palestinian cause, he confesses that there's very little he can do. "When you really get to know the Palestinians and find out what it is they want, you find it's usually two things - firstly, money. Secondly, a passport to get out of the country." He draws a long puff from the slow-burning Shisha and he exhales with a deep respect, "But the Circus, actually manages to bring a tangible commodity they also need - they really do need to laugh and smile. What they do is amazing." I can feel my heart swell, knowing that I'm proud to be associated with these clowns and on the way out, back to the Palm Hostel, I pick up a few beers for the alcohol-deprived girls. They're fast asleep by the time I get back (clowning around looks like pretty hard work) so I rest the cans on their pillows so that they'll each wake up cuddled up to a can of beer. My fuzzy shisha'd head tells me they deserve more. Especially since, odds-on are that they'll probably have caned those bevvies by midday tomorrow.

Day 8: UNWRA School / Ramallah

Cool! Like from the Thundercats!? Except I didn't say that out loud because I could have pretty much guessed that nobody would have known what I was talking about. Walid pitched up to pick us up and at least I knew I could hit him with the punchline without him giving me weird looks. I'd been practicing aluminium-pipe and tooted a couple of notes at him. He patted me on the back.



This is the Circus's biggest show yet, it's at a well-equipped, big school, with around 1000 students. It's been built and funded by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, which suggested that somebody, somewhere is doing something right. The kids are excited to have guests, they're running up and down the corridors, posing for photos and mobbing the clowns. Today they're performing for around 300-400 of the smaller kids, but that doesn't stop some of the older ones trying to get a peek. Susana introduces the show and whips up the crowd, as they chant, "Boomchucka, Boomchucka!", and it begins.























Going back through the photos, every single kid is smiling or laughing - this is a performers' dream show and they skilfully take advantage of the wide open playground stage, whilst me and Mister Marrow are panting by the end from running around getting angles. Rather than her usual half-hidden, embarrassed smile, Ruth is beaming openly and it's a beautiful sight. She doesn't give much away with words, you always have to read her expression.



Jen is nowhere to be seen at the show finale, but surfaces later for the interactive part of the show. At first glance, she comes across as shy and withdrawn, but one of the very best things about this trip so far has been getting to realise the integrity and the character of this girl - never afraid to approach awkward subjects whilst being ultimately modest about her knowledge and awareness. And quite the perfectionist too - she later tells us that she missed the finale of this show because she was beating herself up about mishandling the fire staff during part of her act. She would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for the fact that when you fumble a fire staff, it's a pretty damn good idea to make sure that no part of you is alight.


Above: Jen's totally in her prime when she's with the kids.


Above: Every I look up to get a shot of the window, there's a sudden flurry of hiding and curtain activity.


Above: Trying to encourage the sport of extreme stupid-face-pulling. These guys have a little way to go.

After the show, we venture to Ramallah, one of the main Palestinian cities where we check into a cheap hotel. Partially to ease the burden that we're worried we're placing on Susana and also to hunt down some beer. It's a much more claustrophobic affair than Jerusalem, with tight, busy streets and plenty of stalls and markets. Annie, Jo and Ruth go hunting for trinkets and comedically distasteful spangly earrings, whilst I browse the hair products.

Across most of Palestine, I've been tending to attract more attention from the local populace than the girls - people shouting, "China!" or "Ni-how!" from across the road but in Ramallah, there's a constant echo of these words as I walk around. I really get the impression that they don't have many orientals out in these parts, and I learned quickly that when they ask where I'm from, there's just no point in saying, "England" because they just look at you confused until you say, "China".

In the shopping bustle we lose Laura and meet up with her again in, "Stars & Bucks" - it seems like the premier coffee shop in Ramallah and the green, white and black sign which sits proud on top of a main road intersection is very, very similar to another well-known coffee shop. Intellectual property rights are not a high priority to safeguard here.

I whip out my laptop to catch up on some blogging. The Stars & Bucks network is protected but I can get a weak signal on an unprotected network, 'Al-Quds Bank'.

Laura pulls out a few packs of cards later and offers tarot-style readings, which I take her up on. After a readings which all tell me that I'd be happier if I changed my job, I ask the cards a 'yes/no' question: "Will me and Mister Marrow have sexytime with each other before the end of this journey?", and the cards respond with the most definitive yes that Laura has ever seen. Hubba.

More readings later, Laura has tutted and, "Oh My Gosh"'d about a hundred times - things do not sound positive for her.

In the evening, we're off to one of the few pubs in the town, where we find 90 shekels (just over ten quid) on the floor. Having had experience with this kind of thing, Jo recognises it as having been given to us by the beer fairy and the clowns drink into the night. There's some tension as the property rights of Mauro's video are discussed and it is revealed that the Circus will not be able to do as much with the footage as they previously thought. It feels awkward, but we've spent a week together in fairly close quarters and it was only a matter of time before there'd be some sort of disagreement.

Ruth has e-mailed out a schedule to all of us. Euphemistically, Friday is labelled as, "Day Off", where we'll be going to an anti-wall protest in Belin. Conversation then descended into remedies against tear gas and how lethal rubber bullets can be.

Fuelled by a little bit of alcohol, it has become a bit of a dark evening, and as I bed down, I wonder if there's really any truth to the Tarot. Hubba.