Religious Encounter One

An Assigned Encounter           

 There was a time when my traditionally Christian and European ancestors fought against the people of the Islamic faith in “holy” wars.  If my Islamic friends and I were alive during those times, we would most likely have been clashing swords, killing in the name of God, or more precisely, idols of the times. I feel quite blessed to be living in a time of relative peace and of cultural multiplicity, where I can befriend my Muslim brothers and sisters in institutions that place emphasis on critiquing social constructions, such as race, class, and gender, as well as creating an atmosphere for social, political and cultural dialogue. When I am “hanging out” with my Muslim friends, particularly, Saudi Arabian friends, I secretly feel as though I am in some way doing my bit for world peace, but it is rather that in reality I am involving myself in a cultural exchange of ideas and perspectives that promote world peace. My friend Heem Bahameed, whom I had the pleasure of meeting in my French tutorial last semester, is a superb chap; friendly, easy going, and generous. The thought of this fellow and his like-minded friends calls to mind an old stereotypical scene of Bedouin tribesmen beckoning for the foreigner to come into their tent for some tea. And for me this imaginative scene was actualized. On occasion I was invited into Heem, and his room-mates’, humble abode for discussion, sweet tea (and the video game, Call of Duty). His “place” is rather devoid of decoration, but perhaps this is due to an aspect of Islamic religiosity, or it could just be due to Heem being a “dude”. Heem and I became friends quickly, and I had always told him that I would one day venture with him to the mosque for prayer, or for some sort of service. I am a Catholic Christian myself, but I am one who grew up with liberal, socially and environmentally concerned, hippie generation parents who discovered their faiths through liberation theology and personal experience. I have always been fascinated with religion and philosophy, and as I am maturing spiritually, I find myself wanting to not only study religion, but to experience religion in ways other than the Christian experience. The Comparative Religions class sort of forced me into actually making a visit to the mosque. Here I will discuss my experience at the mosque and the beauty of the main practices of Islam.

            Islam is a Middle Eastern religion that branches from the Abrahamic prophetic tradition of the Old Testament. It was founded in the 6^th century CE by the Prophet Mohammad. It has graced this world with its pillars of the faith; devotion to God or Allah, prayer, charity, fast, and the pilgrimage to the holy city, Mecca. It has a relatively short history, as compared to the other two Abrahamic religions, Judaism and Christianity. Islam takes refuge in the Quran, their holy book, literally meaning recitation; this is recitation of what God said through the angel Gabriel to Mohammed. Islam places a particular reverence on unity among Muslims. Muslim quite literally means one who devotes themselves to God (this makes me a Muslim I thought and laughed). I found this to be quite enlightening. To think, the only contact I had with Islam up until my time at high school and then post-secondary was of watching the planes crash into the World Trade Center on the fateful day, September 11^th 2001. I was but a child at the time, yet it left a profound impact on the way I viewed Islamic society as a whole; I viewed it as something that was barbaric and impoverished. Yet as I matured into my teens I began reading fiction books about Afghanistan, such as Deborah Ellis’ “The Breadwinner” and later on Khaled Hosseini’s “The Kite Runner” and “A Thousand Splendid Suns”, after reading these powerful books I discovered that there was more to it than what I saw on September 11^th; there was a deep and powerful culture, that flourished in the arts, cuisine, poetry, philosophy and sciences, not only in Afghanistan, but throughout the whole Islamic world. The problem was not merely a religious problem, it was a human problem. Issues of war, poverty, politics, and religion pervaded the nations under Islam, especially in the 20^th century with the ending of the first and second great wars, and of course the rise of the USSR in modern day Russia that led to conflict in Islamic countries such as Afghanistan. These issues are likely to have led to the extremism we encounter today. However, from what I have been told by our resident Saudis, extremism and terrorism are frowned upon in Islam. My visit to the mosque alone was reinforcement for these speculations on the positive values of Islam.

As I was waiting for Heem to pick me up by the road near the Front entrance of the University, an African man was standing next to me; he seemed to be blowing in the wind. I smiled at him, and he nodded back at me.  After what seemed about fifteen minutes, Heem finally arrived. I realized that as I approached the car, the African man next to me was also approaching the car. We soon found out that we were both getting rides to the mosque. The African man was Muslim from Nigeria named Sadiq. Sadiq thought it was hilarious that we were both getting the same ride, after having stood a short distance from each for a good quarter of an hour. We both laughed and took our seat in the car. Upon arriving at the mosque I must admit that I was nervous, but at the same time thrilled. The people there were very welcoming, greeting me with “As-salamu alaykum” (as though I was one of them), and I responded with the appropriate “Walaikum salam, my brother” (as though I was an African American man confronting the late Islamic brother Malcolm X). As I am Catholic, it is quite common to cleanse oneself symbolically by skimming one’s fingers along the top of holy water, and then brushing it on one’s head in the motion of the Cross – this gesture of cleansing, like (but not the same as) the brushing of holy water in a Church, is done before entering the prayer room at a mosque. This is called Ablution, where one makes a ritual of cleaning the hands, face, forearms and feet three times before entering the praying room. Once this ritual was completed Heem led me to the main prayer room. Being a Catholic, I am very used to artwork and symbolism, and was quite surprised to find that the prayer room was quite devoid of any artwork or imagery of any sort. I followed Heem into the prayer room, and found myself listening to Koranic verses translated into English. I found myself praying alongside them, albeit in my own way in silent reflection. The split of women and men in separate places was something I found surprising and rather alien. Not sure what I think about this yet. Come to think of it, the most profound thing that I experienced at the mosque was the otherworldly, ancient sounding, monotone recitation of the Koran during the part of the prayer where people line up in rows to prostrate themselves before Allah. I clearly pictured something that I’m sure I had never seen before in my conscience life, or at least not in anything particularly solid in reality. I felt for a moment close to transcendence. It was a very strange experience indeed.

            At the end of the session I had the chance to talk to many a person about the Islamic faith. It was definitely an enlightening experience. The beauty of the practices I encountered revolved around community, devotion, and becoming a part of an infinite and eternal mystery. Much of this I share in common with my own Catholic faith, but the main differences between these two unique traditions, as I soon found out, revolve around dogma, doctrine and tradition. Can we reconcile these differences?   In the Koran in Surah al-Hurajat 49:13, the Lord says “oh mankind, indeed We have created you from male and female and made you into peoples and tribes that you may know one another”.  There are many people in this world, of many walks of life, and with many perspectives, outlooks and experiences. It seems that in order to encourage social well-being in this ever-changing global village we must simply get to know each other, like I did at the mosque with Heem and Sadiq. 

Crashing Down

Crashing Down

Hey Blogspot! Checkout this song that I made in Bordeaux!

France!

Hi everyone!

I've just come back from a most interesting and delightful visit to my Uncle Rick in Bordeaux! At the moment Yorkshire is in a state of haze and rain and snow drops. Spring is almost here, and I can't hardly wait for life to be in full bloom again. This winter funk is dragging like a strange brew.

Travelling with easyjet isn't actually that bad. However, the boarding of the plane is quite strange; it reminded me of a bus stop, everyone just goes in for a free for all battle to get a seat, but the reality of boarding was probably much more civilized than that. It's funny how the mind takes a thought and warps it into conjunction with the emotion of the event. The flight itself was nice and for the most part smooth with little turbulence. Way better than the flight I took from Seattle to Atlanta last August.

Upon arriving at the airport in Bordeaux the international atmosphere completely turned French. The part of me that had been immersed into Quebecois culture for a few years when I was younger began to engross me and my mind began to think up French words and phrases that I thought would flow from me smoothly and without hesitation, but the reality was quite different. Once outside, I recognized a man, a man who I'd only previously only met once when I was younger and then again recently when he came to visit. This man was my Uncle. Uncle Rick. A man with a million and one stories, a fantastic way of telling them, and a man with an unusual, interesting and rather fantastic life. My Uncle greeted with open arms. Two kisses, one each side of my face, as is the French custom. He tells his stories with a Tolkienish English accent, pausing and accentuating words for effective storytelling. He's great at it. Such a character. He has the look of my Grampcie, a look I'd really only known through pictures. Grampcie was my grandfather, I had only known when when I was little, and I took my first steps to him. My Uncle Rick has the same name as my Grampcie, Richard Merrin (Richard Merrin being a family name). It is almost like a fulfilled prophecy if the intention for the name was for looks.

by

(A note about Grampcie) He loved the song "The Girl from Ipanema" by Antonio Carlos Jobim and Astrud Gilberto. Maybe this is the reason I love playing and listening to Bossa Nova. He was quite a religious man, responsible for the Healing mass in Manchester, and knight of the Holy Sepulchre, and also responsible for putting up and helping the late Cardinal Emmanuel Nsubuga while he stayed in England. Cardinal Nsubuga being an Ugandan who opposed and spoke out against the late Ugandan tyrant Idi Armin. My Grampcie had an amazing life. Maybe I should write a book about him one day.

From the airport we traveled to where my Uncle lives in St. Jean D'Illac. The first thing my Uncle made me do was to buy bread from the local bakery. This was a complete disaster. Not only did I ask them an existential question, by accident, when they asked me if I wanted the bread cut up, I forgot the said bread completely and walked out the door with just one baguette. I love bread, but that incident was just plain breadful. The next time I did that was better. I soon started to remember a lot of the French that I had learned in elementary school.

The place where my Uncle lives is seriously awesome. A lot of work was put into it.

He's a great cook too!

The Tuesday of the week I was there I went to an Irish open mic in the heart of Bordeaux with my fun loving French cousin Jean-Benoir (or Jb). It was so much fun. The Irish pub was as Irish as any Irish pub in France could be. The man who put on the open mic there was American/Egyptian but brought up in France, but could speak English and French fluently. I sang Barrett's Privateers, the old eastern Canadian sea shanty written by Stan Rogers, as well as my own songs (quite a different combo), and had the French all sing, stomping and clapping along. At the end of the night I said goodbye to Jb and his friends and hopped in the car with my uncle and my French aunty, and he took me on a tour of Bordeaux at night. It was one of the most beautiful cities in the world. A Napoleonic bridge, beautiful Cathedrals, city lights, the river, the discotheques. It was old, but modern at the same, like most European cities. Bordeaux is a special place.

While staying with my Uncle in Bordeaux I had the opportunity to do lots of travelling.

My uncle took me to Cap Feret, a beautiful sandy beach stretching along the Atlantic coast for hundreds of miles. I traveled across the Pyrenees mountains over to Spain and across the northern countryside. I went up the coast to the beautiful cities of St. Jean de Luz and Biarritz. These cities were home to the most fantastic beaches. A must for vacationers. I went to Lourdes and explored the spiritual place where the metaphysical Our Lady descended into the material world to tell a peasant girl about the beautiful eternity beyond our realm with the promise of everlasting life for the peoples of our world. I drank from the ever flowing stream that Our Lady had brought into existence from the Grotto at Lourdes. It was the quite possibly the purest water I had ever had. I am definitely not one of these crazy radical Christian/Catholic people, but I do respect the kind of level of spirituality that exuded from the place, and for the most part I could feel it too. It was an interesting experience.

Saturday came and I found myself in a neat little pub in the center of Bordeaux with Jb and his friends. I found myself playing the guitar, singing old classics, drinking strong local beer, chatting up, effortlessly (haha, nope :P), to a girl who might have been a bit too old for me, and talking to an English guy with jazz guitar degree. Quite random, but a lot of fun nonetheless. Thanks Jb.

We left the place with a buzz. It was 2 am. One of Jb's friends relieved himself on the street (I think a common thing in France?). Jb had a balloon to test his alcohol level, and passed. Thank goodness.

We made it back to Jb's place and stayed up till 7 am recording music. We woke up at 9 am, had a good espresso (lots of great coffee, and lots of fabulous wines were had during my stay :D), and I was whisked off to the airport. I was not hungover, and for that I was quite glad.

Had a good easy jet flight to Luton airport and then stayed at my cousin, Richard Merrin's, house for the night. Now I'm writing this in Northern Yorkshire, Sale Hill Farm, Camblesforth. I hope you enjoy! And stay classy, Internet.

I fell in love with France and I want to go back at some point.

-Beni

Snow is cool

Hello everyone!

It has definitely been a bit since my last blog, but I will try to remember as much as posssible. I write to you from Lille in the north of France. It is quite snowy here, and it feels like its Christmas. I haven't seen snow since last April and it, oddly enough, warms my heart to see it. Yesterday my travelling companions and I went to the great Canadian ww1 monument at Vimy ridge. It was an amazing memorial. Scenes at the memorial depicted allegorical figures representing humanism and the eternal struggle for good over evil. The tour guides at the site were all Canadian, and all in there 20's it seemed, so it was great to be around some Canadian youngsters again. The tour that we went on took us through an underground subway (that the soldiers used for communications and safeguard) and trenches (that were civily restored). It was quite an educating experience. The day was a cold one, but we just felt lucky that we didn't have a battle to fight, ha ha. The land was scarred by artillery bombardments and mines, there were craters that looked like grassy dried up ponds, and there were warnings everywhere, in english, saying not take chances with the land that was guarded by electric fences. This land was bound to be garnished with undeactivated mines and other explosives. Newly planted trees were everywhere, but we made the rationalization that the planters had probably detected the explosives before they had planted them. We made our way back to our car and drove over to gates of the old Canadian cemetaries. After parking the car (in an awkward place might I add) we walked over to the bigger cemetary. The frost was in the air, snow blowing in our faces, we opened up the gate at the walled cemetary and walked in. Row by row the headstones seemed to wonder into eternity. The ages of the men who had died there instilled sorrow into my soul; 16, 17, 18, up into the 20's and 30's. These men payed a hefty price for their country, and at that moment I felt honoured to be called a Canadian. The headstones were toned in gleaming white marble. They deserved it. I remembered a painting I had seen at the Canadian war museum in Ottawa, depicting thousands and thousands of ghosts haunting the ridge. The place felt a bit spooky. These men were doomed to a devoid cause, doomed to Vimy and the empires they faught for. War is hell, and it always has been.

In the time since my last post I have mostly just been travelling around, biking, hanging out, writing music, just the usual stuff. Once again I am glad to say I that I went. And I think I'll be staying in the UK for a while longer. Then again, it all depends.

Thanks for reading

your pal, Beni Beattie

Back Home in Yorkshire

A surreal New Year's Eve was spent in Hampstead. Cousins with young children came for lunch in the afternoon and older ones came in the night. On glorious full stomach's we left taking adventurous Grandma [8 of us] for the walk up Parliament Hill on the Heath.

It is a special spot which overlooks from up high the whole of the London skyline. The sky was orangey and the walkers up the hill in the dark silhouette of the hill seemed to masquerade as pilgrims one by one. Champagne accompanied us with glasses as we slowly made our way up. Grandma at 91 is a real trooper. The countdown began with hundreds chanting. Fireworks abounded over London and at that moment Prince George did indeed seem so far away. You can get all kinds of fireworks here at every corner store. A popular one is a Chinese lantern which many had on the Hill. They are quite terrifying to set off and some make it in the sky as they are supposed to and some don't, then you duck and hope for the best. If launched correctly they are glorious to watch float by. One very silly man became a sort of human torch holding firworks in his hand as we all quickly fleed from him. So different to Canada, there we were openly drinking champagne next to the police car[where we felt completely safe].

When it came time to leave I left with Grandma. A party mode mid thirties guy accidently bumped into us, realised he was nose to nose with an elder and charmingly took a few steps back and entered into a wonderful conversation with Grandma..ended up kissing her on the cheek and offering her his champagne to which she said 'Thank you so much but no. I have just finished my own" to which he gave a bemused look - it was a moment for sure! We all headed back to my sister's home, to more food and some dancing when eventually we hit the sack about 3am.

Next day, thanks to Greg, we got up to attend 10am mass at St Mary's again in Hampstead followed by very civilised coffee at the Cafe Rouge. greg has promised me he will write a song about The Heath.

We headed back about 4pmish to Manchester to deliver Grandma safely and soundly to her flat. She feels safe there and knows people. I feel things are significantly changing for her though memory wise and I hope the coming months will continue to be joyous ones for her whilst we are here. We will be seeing her again in 2 weeks when we pick her up to bring her home to Camblesforth.

Well...school starts again in 2 days...We will look forward to the half term though when we will be seeing my brother Richard in Bordeaux. Between now and then a lot of hard work will take place at school, Greg will turn the dreaded 60 on January 15th and I am embarking on losing a lot of pounds, weight that is!!!

Have a safe January...I am having trouble uploading pictures so my apologies, some are up on facebook courtesy of Beni though!

Happy Christmas and New Year!

A belated Happy Christmas and an early Happy New Year!

Well...so much has happened in recent days that it is hard to recap. School ended on the 20th with Christmas carols in the next door church and mince pies and mulled wine [for parents only] in the school. Last one out of school before the caretaker saw Greg, the girls and Beni picking me up and us all going for a celebratory meal at our local pub. We had a grand time saying hello to neighbours and eating the best of Yorkshire fayre before walking home. It was lovely having our girls being with us. We hung on to every moment they were here. We experienced the glory of York which is a truly special place. We all loved Betty's tea house so much so we vowed to return with Grandma.

The 21st saw us picking up a very excited Grandma from her home in South Manchester. We returned via my good schoolfriend Sara and her husband Dave's home in Holmfirth, the village portrayed in the series "Last of the Summer Wine". They have taken a beautiful, grand old house and have restored it completely. We enjoyed Dave's homemade scones and preserves and cream cake before heading back to Selby. The next few days saw us going Christmas shopping to York and a return visit to Betty's and just generally relaxing asa family. We had one drive to Ampleforth Benedictine Abbey, a special place to which Grandma had visited many times in the past. It is located in the stunningly beautiful North Yorkshire Moors. Sadly though in recent years  it has been tarnished with sexual abuse cases and it felt like a cloud of sadness hung over the College. We all felt it.

On Christmas Eve we packed [actually Greg did] the Jag and all 6 of us crammed into the vehicle loaded with presents and parcels etc and embarked on a 2 hour drive to peterborough where we were stopping en route to Hampstead in London. My colleague and close friend Alison and her family were waiting with a true English afternoon tea and welcomed us with open arms. Although we have kept in contact it has been 10 years since we last met, how time flies. Lizzie had been her bridesmaid some 25 years ago and had not met since then!

We left for glorious Hampstead and arrived about 6:30pm where a lovely dinner party awaited us. My sister lives in this exquisite part of London. Amazing historic London houses surround where she lives and only local traffic can access the lane. It backs on to Hampstead Heath. I love this area and it's the only place I would want to live in if I had to live in London. Hampstead is like a big village but it's Central London. After dinner we all left to attend midnight mass at St Mary's Church in Hampstead where interestingly enough a lot of the songs were in Latin. It is a "hidden" church between gorgeous mews, it was the church that Charles de Gaul attended during the war.

Christmas Day saw us all going to Harpenden where my nephew Dominic and his family live. 20 of us gathered for dinner, the first time I have been in the UK with my family for 23 years. It was very, very special. The only thing was that my brother in Bordeaux was unable to join us. My English family is not used to having any "live" music so they joyously welcomed Greg, Beni and Lizzie leading the songs with guitar.

On Boxing day we had the mad idea of going to Stonehenge so we all piled into the car for what turned out to be a 3 hour journey due to traffic to the mystical stones. Well worth it when we arrived 45 minutes before closing. Only the crazy Canucks would do this everyone said!

The next day was wonderfully spent with our cousins Margaret and Dona and their husbands and family in Gravesend in Kent. Margaret's husband John recently retired as British Ambassador to the Vatican and numerous other haunts..the result is a huge collection of art items which grace their lovely home. They are very down to earth people for sure and not the quintessential diplomatic "type". Greeted with champagne and numerous appies followed by the eating of roast pheasant for the first time being told just to take care eating in order to avoid the lead bullets! "Tea" then followed some hours later. In England one is never sure of what constitutes "tea". In this case a glorious buffet with all the cheeses you could imagine, smoked salmon, several salads and desserts plus the required port. A most delightful visit!

Thank goodness for the DD Greg!

The next day saw a blissful walk across Hampstead Heath with visiting family to Parliament Hill to which we will be going to on New Year's Eve. It overlooks the whole of the London skyline ie St Paul's, Westminster, The Eye etc. Rosemary and I walked back via South End Green, a pretty "village" next to Hampstead, where we checked out the open mic where Beni played some weeks ago.

Now to last night...what fun and anticipation!!! I had discovered another new cousin. Before coming to the UK we had arranged that we would meet once in London. He lives and works in London weekdays then returns to his home in Devon during the week. He had arranged for us [8 of us as family including Grandma! So ranging from 18 to 91 in years!] to meet at his club, Home House, for 7:30pm. We all read the website for this "club" which as it turns out is one of the top exclusive, oldest clubs in London. Check out this site www.homehouse.co.uk  for very interesting details on this stunning venue, press reviews particularly. We did not know what to wear and indeed did not know if it would be "suitable" for Grandma! In the end Grandma would not be left alone and said at 91 she had the right to come so...Beni was placed in charge of escorting Grandma to whatever transpired in the night, our minds were boggling at what could take place [check the site out]! Carefully dressing in preparation [except for Greg who had "forgotten" his dress up clothes conveniently!] for whatever was to happen..we set off into the downtown London night which is always very exciting!

The address is 20, Portman Square. ...no name on the front of the black double doors. What met our eyes was a sight to behold in terms of luxury but at the same time it felt welcoming and homey. Up a sumptuous winding staircase we all went, in and out of glorious lounges till we were introduced to Lawder who had reserved a meeting area for us. As soon as we met our cousin all fears were set aside. This  gorgeous, gentle, calm man welcomed us and what ensued where a few hours till midnight of chat, exchanging family histories and happy talk. The club is fabulous. If one was single, could afford the thousands it costs in membership per year, this would be the place to be. Our cousin comes here 2 or 3 nights a week, just 10 minutes walk from his Marylebone home. Too bad JoJo [who sadly left the day before] was not with us as she would have adored the ambience.

We said farewell to our cousin and will meet him again in London or Devon. A funny thing happened during chatting outside the club. Beni brought up the name of Noel Fielding, his current favourite comic [The Mighty Boosh] when Aunty Ro said "Oh I know him". Turns out she had met him at a party recently, had no clue who he was, had spent ages in conversation with him [her partner, the lovely Bob..his good friend's daughter is going out with Noel] ..Beni was suitably impressed.

Oh the pains of saying Goodbye...today the 29th..saw Greg and I taking Lizzie to Heathrow..where have the long for 2 weeks gone to? JoJo is now back in Victoria after a LONG flight via Paris and Seattle and all the visit seems very surreal. They both plan to return in June with respective boyfriends so we will look forward to this.

It is now prevening here in Hampstead. Beni wants to go the an indie gig in Islington, Greg to a new release at the cinema..and Grandma...one or the other!!! I sure hope I am like her at 91!! The woman knows no bounds and is game for anything at any time of day or night!!! She puts us all to shame.

Off to pour a little aperitif!!

Hope all of you have a chance to relax with friends and family. We consider ourselves very fortunate to have this time altogether over here for sure....thanks for all the Christmas notes, so much appreciated!!

Jo

eeh bye gum!

Hello people of the internet! It's been a while.

Last time I posted I was in London.. and now guess where I am! You guessed it! London! Well, really Hampstead to be exact, but still, London.

Since my last post on this blog I've been back "home" at Sale Hill Farm, riding my bike and drinking English bitter. What more could I want from life? Ha ha!

Haha, if you're thinking "is that it?" then you obviously haven't read further!

Later on in November I played a show at the Milo bar in Leeds! Since then I've also played at various open mics around Selby, recorded, wrote songs, ate chocolate shreddies (mmmhmm), chilled out with my dad, a lot, read about the art world, watched dry english comedies and popular blockbusters, listened to a lot of new music (awesome), and thought about the big questions in life and concluded with "man, Noel Fielding, what a guy! Brilliant"...

Currently I have just had an fantastical visit from my sisters! We spent a week touring Yorkshire and jaunting around in outlet malls, viking villages, and in York's magical downtown! Lizzie, Dad and I played at the Cafe Chic Christmas party hosted by quite a most talented musician by the name of Nic Slack. It was a mystical night. Dad and I concluded our small sets with singing a rather long sea shanty, and Lizzie played a delightful set! A spectacular night indeed! My family and I spent Christmas eve together at Sale Hill Farm and then proceeded to travel to London in a 5 person Jaguar with 6 people and a whole whack of luggage. We did indeed have many national lampoonish moments. It was an experience that I'd rather not have again, ha ha. From Sale Hill Farm we travelled to Flitwick to stay with my cousin and his wife.

A few Christmas dinners and sleeps later and here I am, a furry bohemian with a cold, expecting the unexpected in this crazy city.

(We also went to Stonehenge! It rocks!)

All in all, this gap year is turning out to be more than I expected... I'll be going to France in February, Switzerland in the spring, going on tour (news that'll be brought to main stream attention ASAP), probably working after it all to save up and then travel in the summer! Anyone want to bum around Europe and play some shows for a few months? haha.