When last we left our heroes …

7am, Portland Airport, awake for 22 hours so far. We napped as best we could on those awful waiting-room seats, got some fast food and eventually boarded our Northwest flight to Detroit. There’s nothing really to say about that flight, except I was unable to sleep in more than maybe 5-minute snatches.

We then cooled our heels in Detroit for several hours, admiring their indoor monorail for taking passengers from one end of the huge terminal to the other, and eventually boarded our flight. Thanks to Orbitz, or perhaps the Orbitz-Air France conjunction, we’d not been able to choose our own seats, but Jeremy sorted it out so we could sit together, which was pretty cool.

So here’s where I’d like to say to anyone contemplating playing one show on the west coast followed by another two days later in Europe: THIS IS NOT A GOOD IDEA.

There’s no way to sleep well on a plane unless you’ve got the cash for business class (we hadn’t), and in any event, the demon-child two rows up was determined that we should hear him practicing his vowel sounds for several hours. Also, Air France flight attendants, while impeccably turned out, beautifully multilingual and generally gorgeous, apparently don’t get that when one is wearing a sleeping mask and earplugs, one probably doesn’t want to be shaken awake for a dubious vegetarian loaf-thing for dinner. Why Loki had to be shaken awake to watch me eat is another question that will forever go unanswered.

We arrived in Paris in the fullness of time, and began the first of many interactions with Charles de Gaulle airport.

Four things you need to know about CDG: First, while many planes appeared to be parked right at the terminal, I’m convinced that these are holographic projections, for our plane parked in Belgium and we were herded onto a bus for a ride to the terminal. Second, CDG is permanently under construction. Thirdly, it’s odds-on that your connecting terminal is four or five kilometres from your arriving terminal, and half the moving sidewalks are broken. Fourth, and most importantly, forty-five minutes is not enough time to do all this, regardless of what Orbitz says.

Translation: we missed our connection to Leipzig.

This was followed by a meltdown. I sat on the floor and sobbed. I really did. I’m not proud of it, but at that point, I’d been awake for … mmm, I think 40 hours … and I was freaked out. Then I started panicking, and this was followed by the Vomiting into a French Toilet performance. Again, not a course of action I recommend. Loki, however, was a brick, and was as supportive as he could be under the circumstances.

We managed to get on the next (and only) flight to Leipzig that day, which would depart from Paris at the time we were supposed to be arriving at Parkbühne for our soundcheck.

Happily, I’d turned on that dollar-a-minute option on my mobile, so we were able to call Bo (“That’s eight bucks.”), call Bo again (“We’re up to fifteen now!”) and generally get the word to Gerald, the head of Black Rain, that we were going to be late.

During our several-hour wait, Kara & Jeremy found the bureau de change and got some euros, including some for Loki and I, but I was at that point vibrating with exhaustion and stress and was in no mood to go hiking around the airport again, so we failed to exchange any of the wad of spending cash we’d brought with us.

Interesting thing about the French: every time we encountered someone, I spoke French. It wasn’t great French, but it was fair, I’d say, and clearly I was understood, for everyone answered me, but in English. The mystery of why this should be was cleared up by Nicholas, but not until later. You’ll meet Nicholas in the proper time and place.

We finally got onto our flight to Leipzig, and there was yet another bus out to the ass end of Charles de Gaulle, followed by a 90-minute flight to Germany, where we landed and taxiied for several kilometres to the Leipzig terminal. Here was the big test: had our luggage made it?

I’m thrilled to report it had. If we’d had energy enough to jump up and down with glee, we’d've done so, but contented ourselves with throwing up our arms in triumph. With everything loaded onto carts, we went past a couple Polizei under the Nothing To Declare sign, failed to be stopped, went through a door and there was Gerald.

Can I say right now that we heart Gerald? He’s the head of Black Rain and we grew to love him slightly less than we love Bo, he’s just that cool.

We squoze all the luggage into his van and immediately headed for Parkbühne. Gerald had miraculously arranged matters so we didn’t have to go into the city center to pick up our wristbands, so we could go straight to the venue.

“What time do we go on?” we asked.

“In one hour,” came the terrifying reply.

We were sweaty, exhausted, dishevelled and in unfamiliar territory — and we had to get to the venue, unload the gear, set up the gear and play our set — the set we’d come thousands of miles to play — in one hour. To say there was quiet consternation is the understatement of the century.

Well, we got to Parkbühne, a lovely ampitheatre in a gorgeous park, and unloaded our stuff. We made Gerald’s day by telling him we’d brought a power converter, plus adapter plugs, plus a host of other gear to make the sound guy’s life easier, then gave him our merchandise, along with a sign in euros (more happiness for Gerald) and dragged our stuff inside.

And there we were. At the venue, with its stone steps and a dressing room for us and a sheer black curtain between us and the stage, and Zeraphine’s gear set out under a tent-thing behind the stage. My nerves evaporated, and I was just radiating a kind of quiet excitement.

Loki and I had decided that, since Kara knew where her clothes were, and since he and I would just get all nasty hauling the gear, we’d just wear Reliquary tshirts for our set. I threw on a little makeup, changed into a skirt, re-superglued my still-bleeding finger, and had my first cigarette in about 45 hours.

All too soon, the band before us was done, so we brought out our gear, set it up and did a quick line check. There weren’t too many people in the audience at that point, but I didn’t care. We were here! We were going to play!

And we played. We rocked.

The sound on stage was amazing. I could hear every note (and, sadly, every place I fucked up, which wasn’t too much, happily, except for Dreams Torn Away, but the less said about that, the better). I moved around as best I could while dripping sweat, and tried to keep a smile on my face, because there were a dozen photographers right up front in the press area, and more in the ever-growing audience, as well as at least three video cameras on us the entire time.

And people applauded!

It wasn’t the full-throated roar Zeraphine would later get, but it was appreciative and I thougth I’d explode from satisfaction. No one threw things! No one booed! Amazing. Amazing.

When we played our last song, the brand-new Love Songs, and hit the last triumphant note, Loki and I took a step back, faced each other and threw up our arms.

We played Treffen.

I have a little lump in my throat now, thinking about it. So indescribable. So incredible.

We hustled offstage, hugged each other. Saw Gerald, stars shining in his eyes, as I imagine they were in ours. “Yes, yes!” he said, and talked about “two years from now, for you cannot play two years in a row, and then maybe we see? Bigger stage? One slot later? Maybe? You would like?” Yes, Gerald, you lovely man, we would like.

Hanging around backstage for a while, just glowing and coming down from the incredible high of the half-hour just past, we drank gallons of water and nibbled on food from the hospitality tent, then went out front to see things from head on.

And then we saw the stage from the front. So cool! We were up there! With lights and smoke and the rocking! Oh, yeah, baby. Kara and I were approached by so many strangers, congratulating us on our set and asking for pictures. It was surreal.

And then, standing around by the Black Rain booth, we met our first set of labelmates! Naomi and Nicholas from Dandelion Wine are lovely, amazing people. They greeted us with hugs and kisses, congratulated us, commiserated with our trials and tribulations, and forgave us for being stupid with tiredness and exhilaration. They are well into a three-month tour of Europe — and they could only bring one bag each! I cannot comprehend.

Later, while Loki enjoyed his first German meat (and not even named meat at that! no one could or would tell us what Frickadelle is …), Nicholas explained the French people to me.

I told him about speaking French in the airport, and as I was telling him about the answers I got, we said, in unision, “they answered in English!” Apparently, if one walked up to a Frenchman and asks a question in English, the Frenchman will act like he does not understand you; however, if you appear to have at least attempted to learn his language, he’ll recognize that and answer in English to help you. It was frustrating at the time, but it makes sense.

We killed time, in the boys’ case, eating German meat-based things and drinking beer, and in my case, pounding water, and in the fullness of time, Zeraphine went on.

I’m not sure what I can say about their set that won’t sound like useless hyperbole, except it was awesome. We watched a few songs from the front, while it was still light out, then went backstage to watch through the mesh backdrop and from the wings, getting an interesting view of things. I took a ton of little videos and tried to take pictures, but most of them came out far too dark.

It was just really cool to be there. “We’re watching Zeraphine from back-fucking-stage!” “OMG!” etc.

Once their set finished, we were offered the opportunity to go to the other parties and clubs that happen, but we were all wrecked and voted for the hotel. Accordingly, Jann, who apparently works or volunteers for Black Rain, herded us into the big red van/bus thing they were using to ferry people about, punched up our hotel in his GPS and we set off into the Leipzig night.

We finally got to the hotel, after several wrong turnings and a stop to ask directions, got checked in, and dragged our gear up to our adorable little suites. After blowing the power in the living room (FYI: do not use a plug-strip with a plug adapter; this is Bad), Loki ran a steaming hot bath and climbed in, while I sat on the edge and soaked my feet and we relived the day.

Then? BED.

Next up: our day off in Leipzig, plus the best night of the entire trip.

[ Gallery for Day 4 ]