Chapter 2: London Calling
________________________________________________________
Ricardo entered my room in his underwear at 5.20am.
“Hey big boy, what took you so long” I said.
“We gotta get up, the taxi is here, we’ve overslept” was his reply.
Ten minutes later we were heading out of the door.
“Where’s the camera?” inquired Ricardo.
The FungWahBus jumped to the front of my head. At exactly 5.30am
on Friday 23rd April 2004 I decided that I would be ensuring that ALL travel
documents would be kept in my possession. Ricardo is clearly someone
who keeps information securely inside his head. As you all know I’m a
fan of the list. When travelling, having an anal retentive in the
group is probably recommended, a role I’m happy to take up. We
said “bye” to Suzy and met our driver.
“It’s Albert Torres” observed Ricardo.
Blimey, he was right, he did look very much like the big promoter.
Fortunately he behaved like Michael Schumacher behind the wheel.
We made our way through Nottingham centre at an average of 70 miles
an hour. We were to learn in time that this was standard for NYC though
and was nothing to be concerned about. Unless you were foolish
enough to sit in the front seat of course, but more of that later.
We were in ‘good time’ to board the National Express coach to
Heathrow, taking in the delights of Leicester, Luton and Milton
Keynes on the way.
“You snore badly” Ricardo told me at one stage.
“On the contrary, I snore very well” I replied.
“Does it cause you a problem?” He continued.
“No, it causes ME no problems at all” I said.
We laughed but fellow passengers were noticeably un-amused.
On the bus we met a man and his son on their way to NYC for the
weekend. Ricardo demonstrated his ability to talk to anyone about
anything by giving them detailed itinerary options. This was to lead
to a nice chance encounter later that morning.
————
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
Chatting with this pair the subject of insurance came up when visiting dangerous places. Ricardo phoned his mate Phil who was Sierra Leone [or similar] bound soon and confirmed that specialist insurance was available for a cost of £350, not including kidnap, health or other essentials. So, now you know.
————–
By 9.30am we were at Heathrow and in good time for our plane. By in
good time I mean we had 5 hours to kill. We checked our bags straight
in. Two minutes later Ricardo was frantically searching his
pockets.
“What’s up?” I said.
“Shit, I’ve lost the key to the padlock on my bag” he replied.
I assured him that we would get the lock off.
“I hope so, all my Congress CDs are in the bag” he said.
Again I checked that I had all our travel documents. I did and we
made our way upstairs to the shops and bars.
“Hey look at this” said Ricardo.
“It’s an oversized big ugly fucking tourist pencil” I observed.
“Yeah, Lapiz man, we gotta get for him” Ricardo enthused.
We did and I put it in with our travel details, safe as houses.
———
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
Suzy had made us a nice packed lunch for the journey down to London, something we both really appreciated but that I forgot to mention before.
———-
Through to the departure lounge and after looking around for Super
Mario, who was to be on the same flight as us, we decided to hit the shops.
I say ‘was to be on the same flight as’ because by the time we got our act
together seats on that flight had gone and we ended up on what was to prove
to be a better, direct flight option. Mario was travelling via Toronto. No sign of
the well traveled salsero.
We headed straight for the CD shop. You never know. Had we been with
our respective partners we would most likely have been chastised with
those familiar phrases “They are not going to have anything you don’t
have” or the classic “Haven’t you got enough already?”. But we were
of a like mind and headed in, just in case.
Yep, we have all those.
“Christ, this is shit” / “Haven’t played that for years” etc etc.
Now, there was another man looking through the salsa (ish) CDs. Ricardo,
he of the chat to anyone nature, started a conversation. I came over and we agreed that he should buy the Alfredo Rodriguez album, particularly as it was only £4.99. “Bargain mate, it’s Cuban Jazz” we informed him.
“I know” he said, “I’m a Latin Jazz musician from Belgium, I’m on my
way to Cuba for a percussion holiday”. No shit.
We all went to the pub and chatted for ages about the salsa and Latin
Jazz scene in Belgium. In true modest Belgian style Ivo [pronounced
Ee-voh] told us that his outfit was not even that well-known in
Ghent, his hometown.
“No worries, do you have a CD?” we said
“Actually, yes”.
We look forward to hearing Ivo’s band, Zon del Norte, in the near future.
———
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
I got this from Ivo when he returned from his trip:
it’s really great you wrote me. I found you guys very funny?
It’s a pity time flies so fast. What can we do to stop it???
I had a great week in Cuba. hot weather and nice hotel. The cuban teachers were really very good musicians. It was Giraldo Piloto from the timba group Klimax and two other percussionists. really very great players??
The CD of Alfredo Rodriguez which I bought in the airport is really very good. Good recommendation of Richard !
so, have a good time there and don’t hesitate to write back if you feel to. Arrivederci, Ivo
————
We chatted about Eddie Palmieri, Chucho Valdes and at one stage the
conversation veered dangerously off into accordion territory but we
all really enjoyed this chance encounter, despite our British sense
of humour which involved giving Ivo stick. He left to catch his
flight to Cuba and we made our way to our plane too.
“Plenty of Americans” we cleverly noted.