A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Two- Wild Cards

A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty Two- Wild Cards

Crotti is what I needed after Duchamp.

Alongside the staff, about a hundred people remain on the Kandinsky. At the moment we spread across the island, and are almost enjoying a normal holiday. Time runs at a level that makes sense, and you can walk from street to the next without them hopping around. Don’t get me wrong, there is plenty of weird stuff here. I will discuss the cats next week. But for now here’s a rundown of I spend my time in this section of Nadada.

A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty- The Population Of Hungary

A Year In Nadada: Week Thirty- The Population Of Hungary

Nearly there. Nearly up to date.

With the grinding of brick walls, the Freytag House shuffled off. A tacky fire door swung shut behind us. The ceiling is so low we have to stoop. Two woman at the bar drink pina coladas, and a man plays darts on a melted board with upside down numbers. His glass contained cocktail umbrellas, and lots of ice. Something with a lot of crooning plays from a cracked glass jukebox.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Nine- Into The Freytag House

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Nine- Into The Freytag House

Sorry, my last post was a bit down. We are still having a fascinating time, even if our current office is a toilet. I am sure getting out of here is a case of finding the right lever, or wishing the walls to turn into Victoria sponge. And not needing to sleep is a good thing. We can finish off this blog. Hope they reach you, and I am not just sending thoughts out to no one.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Seven - Metronome

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Seven - Metronome

I’ve laid out what happened on the stage as one of my interviews. Our conversation fits the format, although written down there may be some confusion. I assure you everything is verbatim, and made sense at the time. The answers are there, but you will have to find them for yourself.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Five- The Other Side Of The Mountain

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Five- The Other Side Of The Mountain

Time is crazy up here. We spent a day in the mountains. A day. The road to Duchamp is not long. If you didn’t stay the night, you could drive all the way in twelve hours. But I’m guessing up there you’ve been receiving these once, maybe two a week at most.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty-Four- The Man Who Wasn’t There

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty-Four- The Man Who Wasn’t There

You might think based on last week’s blog that the mountains are as wild as the desert. This is not the case. Soon we drove past cottages, some even with cars parked outside. Some in Nadada still travel by standard methods.  But where? To Duchamp to do their shopping?

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Two- Tube Sheet Tumour

 A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty Two- Tube Sheet Tumour

Today I considered how our motorbikes are powered. We’ve been travelling for nearly a week, and we haven’t needed to refuel once.

On the surface we trek between gigs using train, or in a real tightness of funds, coach. One of these bikes up there would save me thousands. Jean-Michel refuses to tell us how the engine works, but I am sure there’s something like a bunch of flowers riding a miniature bicycle inside.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty One- Time For Exploring

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty One- Time For Exploring

This far into the desert, time gets weird. I posted this this blog only three days after the last one, but I’ve no idea when the release date will be. The sand stretches to the horizon all the way round, and give little indication of distance travelled. Jean-Michel says not to worry. He won’t let us get lost.

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty- The Sands Of Time

A Year In Nadada: Week Twenty- The Sands Of Time

The desert is ready to explore!

Maybe deep under the sand is our cottages are buried under sand. Perhaps the monkeys carried Picabia brick by brick to fresh new lands. Whatever happened, sand and goats are all there is for 360 degrees around The Kandinsky. The sand underneath my shoes is soft, and reveals nothing of a hidden world. Even the hills have gone.

A Year In Nadada: Week Seventeen- Reflections On A Castle

A Year In Nadada: Week Seventeen- Reflections On A Castle

In recent weeks I have realised how you only see a tiny fraction of Nadada in these blogs. Admittedly there is a lot less admin than I was expecting from The Kandinsky. No need for health and safety information out here, and all the money gets paid into my account for the return to the mainland. If you ask to see the accounts, the payroll staff open up a large glass casserole dish, a haddock floating inside, and say that those who wait around long enough can find out anything they want. I’ve no idea if this is a joke or not.