Precious Life & The Puss Puss Cafe...

Me & one of my precious friends, Leah.

Whoa, it's been waaay too long since I've been able to write. You know by now the gypsy year has been extended. Perhaps it's better to say I'm on my walk-about. Whatever this is, life constantly amazes me as do the the people I know & those I meet everyday. We're truly an incredible species! I am often surprised, terrified, and encouraged simultaneously.

I'll try to connect the dots here since the last post. Geez, what a long breath between writing time. The big Zurich event was a bust. Not that all was lost. It was more of a theatre event with wide open spaces and not much music. One might think it a bonus since I went there to sing, but when I checked out the place all was too uncovered for me. I have learned to protect my voice by choosing spaces with great acoustics. It's really important. Plus I can sing forever without strain. With that in mind, I searched for my spot. Zurich is the "big city" where buskers aren't often seen playing. Made me nervous, but I pressed onward. Eventually I found the perfect spot: Helmhaus, a cathedral ceiling, fountain springing edifice serving as entry to a museum. I had no clue about the museum the first day I went to sing. I was just chirping along when out of the corner of my eye I spotted a security guard. Well, I was mid-song and I wasn't about to stop. He would just have to wait because I was certain he wanted me to cease and disappear (Someone said I'm quite special for Swiss-land. I informed her I am special everywhere.) True it was. While the museum was open I was nicht allowed to sing there where the fabulous high ceiling caressed my voice. Where I could whisper and still be heard. So I just went across the street. Good sound, but not the same Helmhaus sound. Funny thing 'cause I could still be heard in the domed entry of that coveted entry. You really have to be here to get it. This part of the city is one big echo chamber, but rules are rules and the Swiss take the rules seriously. In the end I kept the museum schedule in check and showed up as they closed so I could sing for a couple of hours. For most buskers access to the masses is more important than anything else. I'm still more fond of places. People will either come or not, but I want a quality space where I can rehearse my music. It's one of the reasons I stand apart from the norm and also why there's still magic in the music for me. The real buskers have gimics: a puppet, balloons, dancing bears, something. I have my voice, a gift from the heavens. I hope never to loose the gratitude.

After about 10 days in Zurich, I returned to Basel for Basel Lebt- an outdoor festival celebrating the ethnic diversity of the city. The Curly Monster (aka Mark Kelly) and I were booked to perform for 2 days. What a blast! The Curly one was staying at the villa, so Dex had us in the studio one morning to plunk out a few tunes. Then we headed to the fest to play some more. One night we hung out with the event organizers after closing. I disappeared to use the WC and heard jazz wafting over the Rhine. I knew a friend was playing a party close by, so took a chance it might be him and peeked in the hall. There was a jazz band playing. Sure enough George was there and asked me to sit in with them. Great acoustics, once again, no need for a mic. It was the end of a wedding celebration and the guests wouldn't let me leave. I was in heaven singing with the band, had forgotten the others, and was singing away when I looked up to see the Curly one and another wild looking, dred toting acquaintance at the door. Registering the panic on George's face that the party might turn into hippie heaven if the rest of our gang appeared, I exited graciously and died laughing with my pals on the way back to our own less conservative fun. Neither friend had ever heard me in my jazz element. They were speechless. See at the festival Mark & I did originals and only a couple of bastardized jazz standards (Summertime & Hit the Road, Jack), so this was a new dimension for them. Jazz is my foundation. Cool for me they witnessed me in my element. The more I try to run from it, the more it is in my face. That's life. Isn't it?

Konrad & Erika, Basel Lebt organisers.

I was invited to teach at a music camp for kids ages 9 to 15. Yea, I know... me teaching and children even? Believe me it was an eye-opener in a bazillion ways. First they were all little Swiss Germans so they speak German, Swiss German, and I don't yet. Funny how quickly one learns to communicate when dealing with 18 rambunctious youths. My few phrases- nein, das ist verboten, das ist nicht erlaubt, super- came in real handy. Plus I had the benefit of a translator. Then there was the time I let them have it. The incomprehensible English poured out of me in a steady stream, but my intentions were no less than clear. Everyone got the picture: Mz nice had exited the house (we were living in a big, old country house in the French part of Swiss-land). Afterward things were a bit easier. For some reason I thought these little privileged ones would be angels. Apparently, I was the only angel in the house. Well, me and Sasha, our caterer for the week. In the end we focused on the younger ones who were so enthusiastic about the music they insisted on creating up til the very last minute. Their energy was contagious! I wrote a song (If You Wanna B With Me) with them day before our final concert when the parents would come to witness. We performed it, and though there were flaws ( I played keyboard on the piece) everyone was committed. They made me so proud! (I wanted to upload it here for you, but there were issues. Next time)

Some of my favorite campers, the little ones.

Out for a campers' picnic in the cow pasture. Sasha checking the food bags.

I learned so much in that week. I kept emphasizing how the whole body plays a part in the music. Telling the kids how they should sing while playing their instruments as training for their future solo music careers. Then I sat at that keyboard with a true panic. It is very difficult to play and sing. I gained a whole new respect for many artists I hadn't quite liked previously. No names here, but if you know me well you can guess who a few of them are/were. Being at the camp was something I needed to experience. Everytime I say yes there are blessings falling from the sky. WOW!!!

What can I say? I believe I am doing exactly what I should be doing in this moment of my life. Everything isn't always easy and dreamy, but there's magic each day. Perhaps I adjusted my attitude so I could see my charmed existence more clearly. I can't really speak about the difference at this moment. Guess that'll come in the memoirs? Ha, Ha, Ha! I know you can hear me laughing loudly as certainly I can hear a few comments from your end. Anything is possible. I'm still here. Right?

Thomas & Sammy making my dreams come true...

I met Sammy, the drummer, at the camp. We had late nights of music and wine with the other organizers while we listened out for teenagers breaking curfew. So fun! Lots of on-the-spot-creating. I love that shit! Sammy and I bonded as first time teachers for these particular campers. He had studied at Berkeley- yup the Boston music one- and we shared wonderful stories about jazz. Needless to say the days were long 'cause we'd stay up half the night and have to show at the breakfast table at 8am. Whew!!! Anyhoo...(loquacious, eh?) Sam invited me to play at his uncle's 50th. Uncle Robby lives at the top of a castle. Can we say, "dreams come true"? Not only was it a gorgeous day and I was singing in a castle, I also met a new pianist. Thomas is delicious too. Wonderful player, funny, and willing to put up with my need to stretch jazz beyond recognizable boundaries. Sweet!

Now my band has a few gigs, a name-Puss Puss Cafe- and a place to record. Ooo weee. Can it get much better? Hell yes! There's so much work to be done, but I can see things coming together a bit more these days. I believe we have a time in our lives when we blossom. Just like the flowers . Perhaps this is my time?

Whenever people ask me if I miss the States, my reply is the same: I miss my family and friends. The fact that you are sending me love and support on the vine of the Universe keeps me strong. So, I have a request: please send healing vibes and love energy to one of my most precious friends, Leah, who discovered after giving birth to her 3rd baby, Oliver, that she has stage 4 breast cancer. I trust in our collective power and energy. Leah's strength, sense of humor, and love has been an encouragement to me for a long time. Let's send her a surge of courage and wishes for good health. Thank you! I can feel it already.

Puss Puss Cafe opened a new club in Luzern, thanks to pal Konrad.

Keep Shining! Peace, Joy, Loads of Love...

Home Is Where the Heart Is...

A heart in our backyard...

My friends in Basel invited me to make the Kulturvilla my Swiss base. Thanks to them I have been able to travel more easily around the country. I only have 2 bags at this point anyway (the other is still in Ireland from my luggage dilemma last year). When I went to Montreux I had just a small backpack & an over sized purse kinda thing. Whew...thank heavens for friends! I returned home from a whirlwind of singing-Montreux, Luzern, back to Montreux- to the heart in the grass. I felt home indeed!!

Dex in the kitchen...

Dex made the heart. He also makes jam, wine, and occasionally meals. He pretty much takes care of all the gardening and house fixing. Plus he is a musician with a recording studio here: www.dexmusic.ch. Natascha is a theatre director who runs the inside of our villa. She manages the comings & goings of everyone. Believe me. It's necessary with all the creative people coming from around Europe to participate in projects here in Basel. We have a wild household! What's really great is the meals we share, not to mention the actual organized events which are few, but fabulous.

One way to use overgrown zucchini...

The baby of the house, Louie- Dex's youngest son.

Natascha, Rabea, Ben, & Gentiana...Louie is hidden and Dex is photographing too.

My Swiss adventure has been incredible! I still have a few more concerts here. Plus I sing on the streets and am gaining quite the reputation. People still don't know what to make of the woman who sings a cappella. I can see it in their eyes when they pass. Many smile because they like what I am doing. Others are encouraged to try something equally outrageous. And others... well, they think I'm crazy. All of it brings a bigger smile to my face.

The famous wooden bridge in Luzern.

At the Blue Balls Festival in Luzern, the world renoun music hall.

Three guys named...? They were jumpin' to Louis Jordan & Hot Five standards.

Boys playing on the lake in Luzern.

La Plage de 6 Pompes where I sang with Mark & a young ska group called Ska Nerfs.

The last festival I sang at was a theatrical event with all the performers playing for chapeau, which means the hat is passed at the end of the show. Very cool vibe! It was mostly for theatre type players, but they squeezed in some music so I got to do my thang. The town is La Chaux des Fonds and it's in the mountains. Needless to say, the nights were cold. My hosts belong to a band called the Ska Nerfs (pronounced: Skanners). They're all under 21 and boy did they give my spritefulness a run!!! We did a couple of performances then headed to the disco til closing @ 5am. I returned to the villa needing much sleep.

The Kulturvilla...home IS where the heart is.

I am packing once again. This time for a big festival in Zurich. It's another event where I can sing a lot and make some money. That is what brought me to Basel, if you recall. Art Basel didn't allow musicians, but look at all the other wonderful things I found here. BTW, while searching the net I came across an article in the Turkish Daily News about my misadventure into Basel Artland. Check it out: http://www.turkishdailynews.com.tr/article.php?enewsid=106673 Also, there is a video of one of the songs I wrote with Mark's guitar arrangement. Oops... thought I loaded it, but NOOO! Still getting used to all these technical things. Soon you can check youtube under "Oh God!" That's the name of the tune. Gotta run... so much to do before I hit RailCity tomorrow.

Keep smiling & be happy! I am always sending you loads of love!!!

Droppin' Names from Montreux...

Meeee and Mr., Mr. Jones we got a thing... Get your mind outta the gutter. I've only gotten to speak to the incredible Quincy Jones a few times since I've been here. Contrary to some thinking (my friend Drew-boo, who keeps asking when I'll return to the States, teased I'm spreading more than Katt-joy in Montreux) I am somewhat solely focused on spreading love through singing. Actually I am still quite stingy with my body, though I've had some good smoochin'. I am, however, singing everyday. I was fortunate to meet a wonderful guitarist, Mark Kelly (www.myspace.com/curlymonster1), when I first arrived and we've been working on my originals, his originals, and a few covers. There should be some video coming from somewhere soon. Many people have their cameras out when we perform.

Mark letting his music shine...

Video-man, Gennadi, from Russia.

Mark & I were singing one night when a cutie named Gennadi showed up and asked if he could shoot some video: he was on his way camping in France, but decided to swing by the festival to have a first time experience. I missed my bus home because of our late night hanging in the Jazz Cafe. He stayed around to help me hitch home, but had to catch a 5:15 train. Eventually, I got a lift with a beatboxer who is working for the festival. Geez... another 6am arrival home. Thank God the festival is almost done. I would be dead if there was another week to go.

15 y/o Beatrice getting in on the street action for the first time! Courageous!!

There are so many wonderful musicians all over the place. Some play on the rue, like Mark & me. Others are booked for the stages. The difficult part is waiting for the late night jams. We perform most of the evening and sometimes both day and night. Then Mark & I head for the Jazz Cafe where some of the band members for the big names come to play together. We've been trying to get on stage as a duo, but no luck with that so far. However, we have both gotten on the stage in the Jazz Cafe. I had 2 opportunities. One night I did freestyle with musicians from Tower of Power and Roberta Flack. On another occasion, I sang with David Delhomme, guys from Chaka Khan, and from the Crusaders. What an honor! I have to tell a bit more about that night.

It was the big 75th Anniversary Celebration night for Quincy. Mark & I were gifted some tickets for the show where many of Quincy's friends gathered to celebrate his life in music. Herbie Hancock, Patti Austin, Chaka, James Moody and many others performed. Toots Thielemans, famous jazz harmonica player, made a surprise appearance. We knew there would be an incredible jam that evening. There was even a possibility that we might get invited to the private party upstairs at the Cafe where, the evening prior, I chatted with Q. Unfortunately, the invite never came, but no matter. Our goal was to get on that damn stage. Q was in da house!!! We sought everyone we knew with access to the stage to inquire about the jam: when would it begin-by this time it was well after 3am- could we perform as a duet, etc. No answers were forthcoming, but the stage was definitely set for something to happen. I was told the stage was set for Q's guests and he would determine when everything would begin. Mark was so nervous it was driving me crazy! We could see Q from where we positioned ourselves. I mentioned to Mark that we should make a sign and hold it up for the Big Man to see. He nodded in agreement and continued twitching. You know how I think I can wiggle my booty into anywhere. Well I wrote a note, sashayed upstairs, and talked security into letting me enter the VIP party to give Q a note. Once inside there was a personal body guard who stopped me. I asked him to pass the note to Q. He read it and put it in his pocket. Outraged, I asked what he was doing? "I'll give it to him at the hotel", he answered with his bass voice. "That won't do", I quickly quipped back, careful not to anger the gigantic guy. "Give it back! I'll just reach over and give it to him myself", I continued. Bodyguard dude told me that would be the rudest thing I could do and finally gave me the info I needed in the first place. He pointed out the musicians who would be in charge of the jam and off I went to introduce myself. I asked when the jam would begin and explained that I wanted to sing. "You wanna sing? What's your name?, he inquired. "Katt", I answered. He told me he was David and said he would look out for me. I returned downstairs to inform Mark and we strategized. It was bittersweet in the end because David kept his word and I got to sing. After that Chaka's guitarist, Tony, took over and there was no getting on for anyone else. The session began so late and was beginning to continue so long that the club actually ended it for us all. Mark & I watched the sunrise over the mountains as we waited for our bus home to Vevey.

David on the keys. Tony on lead guitar.

Vevey, where I live for now... that's a fork in Lake Geneva.

I am truly blessed & I am having the time of my life!! Be happy... it's your choice.

Swingin', Singin', & Dreamin' in Switzerland...

Looking for tickets in Montreux...

So much is happening so fast these days at times I don't know where to begin the stories. I have been living in Switzerland for the last month and it's such a small country that I've been able to travel around it quite a bit. There are 3 distinct Swiss areas: the German part, the Italian part, and the French part. As a result most Swiss speak all three languages and use English to bridge any gaps. It seems to work for them. I've spent time in each section. It's that saying yes thing... keeps me movin', but occasionally gets me into trouble. Everyone has a favorite part of the land, based on how "open-minded" the people are there. Outside looking in... they're pretty much just Swiss with language and food differences. Perhaps that sounds more simple than it really is, but those are the bare bones. I'll just leave it at that for now.

My singing post in Basel.

I know I'm looking pretty wild at the moment. I had a home-dying job gone awry and just decided to live with it. My Basel post is outside the post office in the main marketplace. The acoustics are wonderful! The rule breaker in me is going wild here 'cause the Swiss have many rules. I am only supposed to sing in one spot for 30 mins. before changing posts. I think this is because certain street musicians (someone told me they're beggars with instruments) play just three songs and stick a cup in your face. Oops! My repertoire, however, is quite large and I never ask for anything. I have a cute little bag which sits near by. My philosophy is the money takes care of itself. I sing to spread my Katt-joy and whatever I need is provided by the day's end. Often times people put bills directly into my hands. I always end up talking with someone who is inspired by my life and music. Also, musicians keep inviting me to join them for projects. One very cool artist, Hilarius, has been doing a mixture of street playing and concerts for 30 years! He calls me Meow and has taken it upon himself to advise me. He also wishes to work on a gig or 2 together. It's all very cool. Amazing!!!

Hilarius surrounded by his paintings with an instrument he made .

Montreux, home to the world famous Jazz festival.

Lake Geneva, backdrop to the festival. I want one of these watercraft thingies!!!

I have dreamed of one day being at Montreux. It was surreal when I road my bicycle down the road and started seeing signs of the Jazz Festival. Kinda bittersweet actually, because there's not so much jazz anymore. The big names in jazz this year are Herbie Hancock, Return to Forever with Chic Corea & the Gang, and a lump of jazzers thrown in for Quincy's 75th Anniversary Celebration. The headliners are big radio names like Lenny Kravitz, Erykah Badu, Alicia Keys, Gnarls Barkley or music icons Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez, & Roberta Flack. Obviously these people will sell tickets. It's just a wee sad that the big jazz radio names are absent from the roster, but many of them are in Switzerland this summer where there are festivals all over the place. Diana Ross even headlines at one. It's so beautiful here with trees and lakes everywhere. There's no mystery why people want to hang out in the summer.

Montreux Jazz Cafe has free concerts nightly.

Gavin, Mark, & John... Englishmen in Switzerland.

My haven is in Vevey about 10km from Montreux. Vevey is the home of Nestle, the hideaway for Shania Twain, and the final resting place of Charlie Chaplin. Mark is a guitarist who has been living here for 8 years. He's got a few connections and is working on some of my songs so we may get to perform them on one of the festivals stages. Cross your fingers & toes! Gavin and John belong to the Nestle family. John stole my heart right before he transferred to the Ukraine. Dammit!!!

After my first absinthe. Happy Kitty!!!

Zen Fishing & Football Madness...

The zen fishing hole...

I remained in Switzerland after my spiritual re-kindling at the Vipassana Centre. I hitched a ride to a small village near Zurich where, true to Katt form, I said yes to the first hint of excitement that came-an invitation to go fishing- and immediately rejoined civilization. My meditation colleagues, whose lives were instantly changed from meat-eating, astrology tracking, seeking souls to mega-meditating vegetarians, turned down the opportunity to commune with nature and men in favor of more-you guessed it-meditation. I hit the road with a real fishing, hunting manly man to a small isolated pond (cool it hormo-knees!) where I had my hook baited for a bit ‘o fishing fun. You must remember I had been in the sexually charged, men separated from women, but constantly curious about each other atmosphere of the retreat for 11 days (see previous post). Honestly, I really wanted to fish for it had been a few years since I had watched the little buggers take my bait and disappear. It didn’t hurt that the company was sweet and witty. Fishing became my zen meditation for the day. By the time my companions were begged out of seclusion to join me and the fellas (my host’s best buddy came later) I was back to my beer drinking, meat eating self. Did I mention the manly man had cooked up some wild boar spareribs when fishing proved futile. The lack of nibbling swimmers was blamed on me torpedoing my hook into the otherwise quiet, calm pond. All teasing was laugh out loud hilarious. What a great way to reconnect with the world!!!

Mark & Andre discussing new fishing tactics.

It’s football madness all over Europe and I’m in football central: Switzerland. Austria is helping to host because Switzerland couldn't possibly handle all the human traffic. Believe me, I didn’t do this on purpose. Nevertheless, Euro 2008 (http://images.businessweek.com/ss/08/06/0607_soccer_venues/index_01.htm) is an amazing display of the power of marketing, testosterone, and beer drinking capabilities. I am really enjoying people watching, not to mention witnessing the transformation of three major Swiss cities: Basel, Geneva, & Zurich. I don’t think there is such a frenzy for any one sport in the States. Adults and kids alike paint their faces with national flags, don strange colored cheap wigs, and weird hats. Grown men parade the streets tooting plastic horns and singing sports anthems. Women even get into the game. It’s a no brainer when all the men are in one place. Now everyone is a fanatic. Since I am in the middle of this electrically charged sports phenomenon I think it only kind to share some photos. Enjoy...

A parade with traditional gigantic cowbell instrument things. (great description from a music lover, eh?)

Swiss fans getting ready for the opening game.

A shrine to the Swiss team in Basel. How many balls can you count?

Geneva's football mania...

Zurich tops them all with the gigantic footballers in the middle of the main train station.

Switzerland is a beautiful country, so I'll have to post photos of all the natural wonder at some point. If you've even been to the Pacific NW, it's kinda like that but more pristine with more history.

Be Happy...

Bye Bye Bootcamp:)...

I thought I always wanted my own bell man until mine was right outside my door ringing the 4am wake up gong! The spiritual seekers' boot-camp had officially begun. First day that bell ringing was sorta sweet: a little resonant cymbal resounding throughout the compound on a hillside in pristine Switzerland overlooking Lake Constance. As the days progressed it took on the dominance of a prison bell. Everything was so structured that the sound reminded me I was no longer in charge of my time or my life for that matter, but I had agreed to stay the full ten days and I was gonna do it bell or no bell. The last time I had to follow so many rules I actually was in prison- to perform Shakespeare. I thought about the men and women I encountered then who couldn't leave their lockups if desired. I had chosen this experience and dammit I was determined to enjoy it! So, I chuckled every time the bell rang, kept a smile in my heart, and hunkered down to learn the meditation technique which promised to cleanse my mind.

The living experience was a real trip: 10 days of silence, a strict vegetarian diet (actually the food was surprisingly good, it was just the constant queuing up to get to it that drove me mad and the fact that dinner was only fresh fruit and tea.), and many hours of meditation. No reading, writing, sex, singing, sunbathing, walking outside designated areas around the compound, and no cameras. So no photos of this little slice 'o natural beauty. After being in the concrete jungle of Paris of course the wonderful surroundings brought my creative juices bubbling to the surface. There were new songs and story ideas coming from all directions. You know I can't sleep at 10pm -mandatory lights out- so I'd just be abuzz with free flowing ideas which I couldn't write down. Talk about frustration. Thank God the Vipassana teaching is solid. Otherwise I might have been out the door. Actually we did lose two women before the session ended. No one knows why they left. When the 10 days of 'noble silence' ended I spoke to returning students who had taken the course at other centers. According to their stories, each center is different though the teaching is uniform. I heard the course in Italy is much more laid back. Perhaps I'll take a refresher session there one day?

In all honesty, I understood the reason for many of the regulations. One takes the course to learn a specific meditation practice which requires focus. If there is chatter while being introduced to the methods things might get confusing. There might be a temptation to compare experiences which aren't common when seeking one's own spiritual path. Also, one shouldn't consider the retreat a holiday. Everyone goes there to work seriously. Many people come with life issues to address. Ohhh those life issues can be a real bummer, especially if one is completely out of balance. Understanding all this didn't make the day to day less bizarre. On the contrary, I was intrigued. When I wasn't fully immersed in meditating, minding my own business, it was a mini-study in group psychology . At one point I lost complete track of time, although I thought I was counting. Prison popped into mind once again. Finally, I got a big laugh when the Guru himself referred to our days in the course as "prison-like" during one of his last discussions. Funny.

As I mentioned earlier, the teaching is logical, non-religious, and full of nuggets to enrich one's life. If you are seeking sound, life changing suggestions this could be a course for you. I recommend it for learning about dharma, personal responsibility, and how to clear the mind. As with anything in life, when you are aware of all that is required to complete a task it is easier to adjust your attitude to reach the final goal. I enjoyed myself, learned some valuable techniques, and met a few really cool people. It cost me nothing but a willingness to slow down, tune out the world, and tune in to me for 10 days.

Artists waiting for customers. Well, Richard (l) is an artist. Steve has an alternative existence.

The controvercial pyramid at the Louvre.

I promised to give an account of my last days in Paris. I officially became a street singer the last two weeks I lived in the city. Word came that the project I was anticipating would not happen, so I really had no reason to stay. I had made wonderful musician friends, sung in some cool hot-spots, and planted my joy seeds. As I prepared to leave, I decided to grab my courage and find a spot where I could just let my voice and spirit soar. My stage was across from the Hotel de Ville, a beautiful spot with fountains and local as well as tourist traffic. I would walk there about an hour and a half every evening. I sang for at least 3 hours each night, heading to the Caveau des Oubliettes to jam afterwards. It was time to send a clear message to the Universe that I am dedicated to preparing my voice, body, and soul for the kind of work I've dreamed of doing for so long.

Being outside singing alone, just me and this voice I've been given is pure joy. I have come a long way since the Barcelona Cathedral. The more I focus on what music brings to me, the intense passion I have for delivering messages through song reverberates to bring people to listen. It doesn't matter if they give money or not. At the end of the night money is there. Just the fact that they choose to stop, listen, and often speak to me about my mission is a blessing. Lots of teenagers, other musicians, families with kids (Kids and animals adore me. I have neither. Go figure), street people, you name it, stop for awhile. I can only hope they walk away with a little more joy, a bit more hope to face another day. It's clear that I am letting my light shine in a new way, reaching a whole other audience. The police never bother me either. I had seen them make other street performers stop and I wondered why not me. Then it dawned on me that I am simply singing with no instrument other than my voice: the first instrument.

Peace, Light, & A Ton of Love...

Adorable young jazz fans celebrating an 18th birthday! Guess who is the lucky girl?

Seeds Sown, Time to Hit the Road...

Paris... ahhh, Paree! I spent more time there than I had imagined upon landing in her arms. The things I experienced, learned are still fresh in my mind, although I finally left my vie en rose 2 days ago. It was tough to determine whether I really wanted to go or if I was being my Princess self: spoiled and not getting my own way. After much reflection, I realized it was a mixture of the two: the time had come to spread a little Katt-love elsewhere AND I wasn't having my way. What's wrong with knowing what you want and expecting it? Not a damn thing! We are ultimately in charge of our lives, so it is our choice to have it our way or to blame others when we find we're not quite living the way we had dreamed. Having spent several months in a place where the glass is half empty for many, it was obvious that my glass-half-full person needed to get back out into the optimistic world. I learned to reach deeper into my own joy as a way to express it to others. I left an imprint of my creative self on the sidewalks of the city and in the clubs. I remembered who I am and why I have this opportunity to move freely about the world. Seeds sown, the time had come to part.

Strangely enough, I am heading to a 10 day silence-meditation retreat. Don't know if retreat is the correct word. The rules of non-engagement almost make the place sound like a boot-camp. Still I forge ahead. No speaking, writing, reading, smoking, drinking. No, no, no for 10 whole days in beautiful Switzerland, near Lake Constance. Guess I can do it. Not talk, I mean. The daily schedule is strict. Can't wait to hear the 4am wake-up bell. Actually, flippancy aside, I am excited about where my brain will lead me in the silence.

Sorry no photos this time. I am literally on my way to the train station in Bern. Crazy me miscalculated the whereabouts of the meditation centre and came to the capital city of Switzerland, which is more like a small town. I couch surfed with a sweet, young journalist from Canada. We swapped travel stories (Justin has also lived in Sierra Leone, West Africa. His journey there was more recent and thinking about how long ago my feet touched African soil made me feel aged. Don't worry. I got over that real quick.) and shared what will be my last sips of glorious red for a short time. When I'm done with my head trip, I'll post a 'last days' in Paris section with photos and everything.

Keep the light on...

Climbing Hills & Sending Old Friends Off To New Dimensions...

Before I share my latest adventures, I'd like to celebrate the life of a friend who lived, played, and finally discharged his body in Seattle, WA. Moises (pronounced Moses) was an incredibly daring person who seemed to allow himself the best that life had to offer. He had been battling stomach cancer for some time. It was in remission when I last saw him in June '07. Everything serves a purpose and I believe Moses had an opportunity to spread even more love, encourage even more people to live fully, and say goodbye without remorse knowing he had touched lives. That's a fine parting gift!

Here's to you, my friend!!! No more pain.

Friends ask me about Paris and how I like living here. Truth be told, the city is fantastic! It's beautiful, full of energy, and glowing with thousands of lights. However, it's a bit too far from the ocean. One thing about being in cities is the stars don't shine so brightly. Also, my creative senses are dulled by all the people, constant noise, and filth. There it is... Paris is like all other major cities and after a time, I need the roar of the ocean to remind me of my place in the universe. When I was in NYC, I spent a day on Coney Island, dipped my toes in the sand, and dodged a rainstorm. In Paris, I headed for the beaches of Normandy. Yeah, same region in which Joan D'Arc burned at the stake. Oooo... hope there's no significance there. Also the place where famous Impressionist Claude Monet found inspiration to create masterpieces. Much better... heading for inspiration, not losing my noggin.

Our mark for the journey to Etretat.

The tree marks the way to the famous French cliffs in Etretat.

My friend, François, treated me to a wild weekend of hiking on the Alabaster Coast or Upper Normandy, the region of France famous for natural beauty and permanent remembrances of WWII. The pathways and bunkers built by the Germans are still there. Don't forget the famous booze, Calvados (apple brandy) and Benedictine Liquor, come from there too. François and I spent 3 days hiking the famous trails and valeuses (huge cliff-side hills). You wouldn't believe how high these trails took us! I still can't believe he got me out there wandering through fields, following some strange marks to keep us on track. I was actually pretty good at finding the signs and the sea goat in me keep me climbing steadily toward the final destination, Etretat. The beauty all around us and the dangers of the cliffs were well worth the trek when we were rewarded with the most amazing natural sights.

One of the toughest valeuses and we're not even halfway there!!!

Getting closer...not really!

Unfortunately, the light wasn't cooperating the day we made our longest hike, 24km. When we got close enough to Aval's Door and its arc compared to an elephant dipping its trunk into the sea, we were still some distance from the town of Etretat. Guess panoramic photography would have served better here, but you get the point. All of the rock is flint and F. tried to impress me by rubbing a couple of stones together to make fire. Thank heavens we didn't need one. Poor François.

Aval's Door

More of the elephant...



Mr Cool! Heavy breathing much? Look at that incline!

The fourth and last valeuse almost killed us. The steepness of the climb is barely detectable in the photo because the depth draws your eye to the path we descended first. Oh well... just happy to be at the top. I'll master the camera thing another time. François was trying to act cool at the top, but it was a dead give away that he had suffered a bit too when he didn't immediately light up a cig. After a couple more kilometers it was clear we were nearing the main attractions. Hordes of people appeared on what had been a fairly serene path. In fact, up til now we had only encountered 6 others walking and a couple of mountain bikers who took an alternate route at our last and toughest valeuse. François commented that we were near the parking lot. Sure enough, it was true. All these people had not hiked to Etretat as we had that day and we were feeling pretty smug, not to mention hungry and thirsty. We had our baguette sandwiches, prepared by the Matron of our cute little hotel in Fécamp- our starting point-and water for the trip as well, but it was time for a well deserved beer or two. Down, down, down. We descended into the town amidst the throng of tourists. For some reason it was a busy weekend.

Etretat on a Sunday afternoon.

My hiker look... YIKES, no wonder there were stares!

We didn't dig all the people, so we finished our beers in the pub and headed down the rocky beach where few would tread to have our lunch. I was starving!!! Even though, the sun was shining, it was still a bit nippy especially after walking. I was in awe of the power of nature as I gazed on the rocks; some large others smaller ever giving way to the power of the ocean to transform all things. My spirit had been longing for this moment and I gave myself again to the sea. Do you see me in the water?

The rocks and my spirit in the water...

The weekend had been a treat to get me to the sea again, but it was also a trip for François and I to say farewell to our friend Simone who had just left her body the week prior. She had lived in that frame for 96 years! An amazing feat! When first I met her at Christmas she was still singing bawdy songs and sipping whiskey. I could tell from the lines on her face that she had enjoyed her life. Fécamp was a place Simone had adored. François bought white roses, a card we both signed, and we climbed to the peak of the city to send Simone on her new adventure. I was deeply moved by the gesture and by the overwhelming emotion of the moment. Although I gave him some distance as he hurled the roses into the sea below, I could tell François was silently weeping at the edge of the cliff for a woman who truly appreciated his presence.

François saying goodbye at the cliff's edge.

The wondrous Simone...still watching over us.

It was a minus tide dusk and the most glorious sunset I had seen in awhile. It was the evening of roses and a sunset to remember. One that pointed us to our destination the next day. We looked out over the rocks and water, thinking about the trek we would attempt tomorrow. I let F. know I might be a bit slow on the hills, but I would make it. He wasn't so certain after my struggle on the short climb earlier that day to celebrate Simone, but I felt confident. I knew I would give it my best. We finished the evening in Simone's favorite restaurant: a cute little hide-a-way, family owned bistro with an open hearth all ablaze to cook the meats and fish. It was warm, cozy, and filled with memories of Simone.

The evening of roses, a sunset to remember...

Peace