by RAF KATIGBAK

After two weeks in continental Europe, there were

many roads travelled and many lessons learned. Perhaps the most valuable lesson I can impart to you is the following—don’t do Jäger shots till five in the morning at some sketchy Turkish gay bar in Berlin and expect to catch your 6 a.m. flight home. You will not make it!

Yes, after missing not one but two return flights—resulting in an impromptu stay at the Munich Airport Sheraton, which was literally shitty (the airport is located in the middle of cowpie-fragrant farmland)—I finally arrived home, and what a home it is. Can I just say how awesome we have it here in Montreal? Sure, Berlin is fun. You can drink, drug and dance for as long as your mind and body can handle it, but good luck finding a decent poutine anywhere in the city afterwards! I suppose the closest they come to poutine is currywurst, a vile concoction that involves hotdogs, spicy ketchup and curry powder, hardly the elegant flavour-gasm that is cheese curds, gravy and french fries.

In all seriousness, Berlin and Montreal are pretty much sister cities. Rent is pretty cheap, the feeling is laid back, we both know how to party, and we both have a large, brilliant and thriving artistic community that has trouble making any kind of serious money (but we’re both okay with that). Unfortunately, Berlin has one thing relegating it to “uglier sister” status compared to Montreal: language. While in Berlin I met up with Akiyumi, a Japanese DJ working with Jazzanova and the Compost crew and a Berlin resident for the last three years, who summed up the language differences quite succinctly. “You use French and Italian when you want to talk about romance and love. You use German when you want to tell a dog what to do.”

While there are some funny instances of German language usage (the word “latte,” in German, basically means “erection,” so be careful when ordering coffee—especially if you ask for it “extra creamy”), I found most sober Germans unable to just kid around. Unlike the Québécois, who know the true value of comedy (you know, like that hilarious Michel Courtemanche guy... umm...). This is all just to say that we live in possibly the best muthafuckin’, free-thinkin’, free-wheelin’, party-till-you-poop-your-pants town on the planet, and that every city in the world should be jealous of what we’ve got going on here... except the towns of Dildo, Newfoundland, and Iron Knob, Australia, whose names always make me giggle like a schoolgirl.

Need more proof that Montreal is the best? Well, how about a sampling of this weekend’s goings on, like Friday’s benefit for Pakistani earthquake victims at the Casa del Popolo, with live acts Vox Crosby, Tempus Fugit, Creature and DJs Sarcastic and Rhys Taylor? Or how about Stereo’s seventh anniversary celebrations this weekend, which include the rave-a-licious Scumfrogs on Friday and remixer to the stars Victor Calderone on Saturday? Or the ever-fluid LABrojects live improv night, Saturday at O Patro Vys, with members of the Unireverse and Jaime from Islands? What are you waiting for?

NEHMEN SIE MICH IHREM HANDLER. Diskoakimbo@sympatico.ca

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