The future 2023 A.D.

Be apart of everything you can.

Sundays

Risky business

It was 5pm and we were getting up from a nap. Evan and I had scored 2 tickets to El Clasico in Madrid. We had to rest up for what was ahead of us. I had just seen a Champions league match in Barcelona and was defiantly on a futbol tip. I had told everyone who cared about it that I was going. The only reply I would get was, "Do not wear Barcelona colors". I was set on staying neutral up until we were about to leave. Then Even and I made the executive decision. "Fuck it, we only live once," he said. Next thing we know.... Barca jersey's, capes and scarfs on our heads. We even had extra glow in the dark glasses from the night before. Our friends wished us good luck and we were off. The metro wasn't was bad as we thought it was going to be. Mostly just dirty looks and "Puta Madre" under peoples breath. A couple of Barcelona fans came up to us and asked us what we were doing. Didn't really have anything to say but, "Viva Catalunya". Catalunya is the region where Barcelona is. Huge rivalry between Madrid's region obviously. So we get off the metro and it starts. A group of about 25 guys start chanting behind us. Nothing too bad. But then we hit a problem. We had planned to buy beers from the street vendors. But with so many cops around the game no venders were around. That forced us to go to a local Madrid bar to get drinks. As we walked away from the stadium through the ally's things got tense. More yelling and cursing. Then we came cross a bar with a take-out beer window. While ordering a man came up to us and asked us if we thought it was a joke. I don't speak the best Spanish so instead of talking to him I told him to get out of here. After getting our beers we began to walk back to the stadium. Right then Even gets his with a rock in the middle of the back, and one rock hums by my head. This really escalated everyone else. Soon enough we are running down the street being chased by grown ass men hurling rocks. While mobs of people are screaming in our faces. Right when we are about to reach the stadium a Madrid firm is waiting at the end of the street. Probably about seventy strong. They notice the commotion coming through the crowd. They attempted to close off the gap but we got through. We had to run to a platform surrounded by cops. Never been so happy to see an officer of the law. So there we were. Stuck on a platform with 2 liters of beer. I don't think I realized how drunk I was, just kept going. There had to be at least 30 people who came up to us and amended our spirit. Asking to take pictures with the craziest dudes there. By this time we could barely form sober sentences and were no longer afraid of the firms. We met this guy from Baltimore.(Pictured above) Said he was a huge fan and was stoked to see some American's killing it. Drank a beer with him while we waited for the game to start. We drunkenly found our way to the Barcelona fan section. Finally we were with our people. The game was amazing. More than I could have hoped for. It was a 1-1 draw. I think if Barcelona had one we would have died leaving. Luckily it it ended how it did and we made our way back to the flat. I fell asleep in the taxi with a smile on my face.

The School of Life

Their is nothing like a trip to the Sahara Desert to force you to completely reorganize your priorities in life. Recently my friends and I took a trip to Morocco and decided that because we were in Africa probably only once in our lives, it was necessary to go to the desert. Little did I know this desert adventure would turn out to be something so incredible.

After a ball busting 2 hour camel ride into the dunes, we made it to camp. We dropped off the camels and immediately hiked up the biggest, baddest dune we could find. Barely able to walk straight and with my calfs burning I reached the summit and felt like I was on top of the world. To the west was the sun setting over the desert, with an overwhelming expanse of sand so large that I can't even begin to describe in words. To the east was exactly what you would expect, more desert. Dunes and sand for as long as the eyes could see.

We returned to camp after sunset where we chatted with the indigenous Berbere people of Morocco, discussing desert life, culture, languages and shared stories of our travels. This is where I began to understand the peaceful, tranquility of the desert. One of our guides, Ibrahim, told us his story; he described to us his life as a desert nomad, living in the dunes, exploring the Sahara and experiencing the raw, breath taking wonder that is the desert. We asked him "do you ever get lost amongst the dunes?" He replied smugly, "do you ever get lost in San Francisco?" I said "touche Ibrahim, touche." Then we asked him, "do you ever wonder about life outside of the desert?" He answered, "Never, I love my life here. I have drums to play, plenty of rice to eat, and I meet interesting people every single day." Ibrahim had never gone to school one day in his life and yet he could speak Berbere, French, Spanish, Dutch, German and English. He knew more about history and different cultures than all of us combined and yet had never read a history book nor written one essay. He said he went to a different kind of school, he called it ' The School of Life'.

Fascinated with Ibrahim, we all wanted to continue talking to him but he told us that first we needed to eat and after that play music and if their was time, we could talk more later that night. After a delicious dinner of rice and turkey stew we all sat down in a circle and Ibrahim and his friends brought out their drums. They played their traditional songs and we laughed and danced to our hearts content. Then they gave up the drums to us and asked us to play our countries traditional songs. I was starting to realize how this school of life worked, as I myself was currently sitting in the classroom. First our Mexican friends sang some traditional mexican songs and we tried to make up a drum beat to them. Next, it was time for the American kids to take the podium. We weren't prepared at all... None of us could think of one song that we all knew and were brave enough to recite. It was a shame. I guess we failed that class. Feeling our embarrassment Ibrahim picked up the drum, put it in my lap and said PLAY. With no rhythm at all I started banging on the drum, my face lit up like a kindergartner. I guess I have a long way until graduation.

Around 1 we were told that we should quiet down as to not wake other people in the camp and so we headed for a nighttime hike up the dunes. As we got to the top it was so windy that we couldn't even open our eyes without getting whipped by the sand. We descended the mountain and headed toward camp to go to bed. But little did I know class was not over and their were still many lessons to be learned. While laying down outside underneath the stars Ibrahim and his friends told their favorite jokes. We talked some more and gazed at the sky. He told us about ancient Berbere nomads that used the stars to navigate their way through the desert, as it was often too hot to travel during the day. I couldn't help but think of all of the nomads and traders that had passed through this very desert long, long ago. I fell asleep, finally with all sorts of thoughts running through my head.

I couldn't wait to tell people about this... the most interesting lecture I had ever heard.

Right behind my favorite place to eat in Berkeley (Brazil Cafe).

Here

After the long awaited inter-web launch, we are here. Who are we? That is a good question. An art collective incorporating all mediums. Consisting mostly of short stories, music and photographs. No, we are not a clothing company. No, we are not a drug front. Just a collaborative effort to push something we think is cool. So from this point forward, hello.

-W&C

New spring ad in Sioux magazine.