J&K

Whatever happened on their journey throughout the Baltic region to J&K?

We arrived in a new place and knew nothing about it except that it was supposed to be bigger than the one we had just left. It actually looked like a city, and that was kind of exciting. On a piece of paper was the address of where we were going to stay. The taxi driver spoke Russian and headed right out of town. Driving through a labyrinth of run-down factories further and further away from the city light, the fog became increasingly dense. It was soon impossible to see, so the car had to stop. We were lost in complete whiteness, deprived of all sense of orientation. The only perceivable sign was the sound of the sea somewhere nearby. The taxi driver was scared, so we left him and continued on foot through a field of nothingness. It was eerie and comforting at the same time. By the time we had got used to the idea that vision had left us and were now living in a world of pure sound, we saw a pink stripe before us. We knew this was the sign of our arrival. Realizing it was Saturday night, we took a walk around town. We ended up in a basement club in which a DJ called Monster stirred up Latin flavors while the screens on the walls showed a documentary of how to make pin-up calendars with nude women from third world countries. We shared a drink and a smoke and then hit the road. A desperado taxi driver probably on some sort of downer zigzagged us back to our harbor residence. A small cluster of people was gathered outside the house next door. Deep pumping sounds came from within. Once inside we were swallowed by extreme psychedelic noise produced by a witch with long black hair. There was no choice but to obey. The terrifying screaming colors in kaleidoscopic patterns took over whatever was left of perceptive capacity, and we subdued ourselves to the dark beats like puppets on strings. As morning broke a relentless noise screwed into our beings. The music intensified into muddy torture, and nightmares of deaf eternity haunted us into a deep and silent sleep. We woke up and went to a local pancake joint from where we headed out of town. We arrived at an orthodox nunnery in a dark forest. Two hundred German soldiers fallen in WWI were buried here under a field of little grey crosses. Round nuns in black boots and swathed in countless layers of black ran in and out of the buildings. We saw a group of young men playing volleyball on the icy meadow next to the monastery grounds; they spoke German. We asked one of the nuns why these men were playing volleyball in the freezing cold. She looked surprised and answered “What men?” It was minus ten degrees Celsius, so we went to Pokaini forest to make a fire. The lakes in the forest were frozen and covered with a thin layer of snow that was arranged in peculiar ornamental patterns. It was possible to read the patterns in order to look into the future, and we saw that things would fall into place naturally and elegantly. After walking in total silence for some time, gravity became partly suspended and our movements effortless. We lit our fire next to the Father Stone and dedicated a dance to our friend from Magadan, a city 6,234 kilometers to the east, as we knew that he was planning to start a family this year.

J&K