Financial Review

So how did I go, eh? I'm pleased to report that after 4 months of travelling, I ended up about $500 down (excluding flights).

Overall the money was not as good as I've been accustomed to busking in Australia.

The lack of coins in the US proved somewhat problematic, although I did enjoy not having my bag weighed down with change.

As good as busking around the world is, nothing could top the Olympics for me. I lost my mojo a bit after London, busking less and spending more.

All in all, I give my trip 9/10 for finances, 14/10 for fun.

Trippy Tales

Love.

One of the things I love most about busking is that something funny happens pretty much every time I hit there streets. This busking trip was no exception. Please find a selection of amusing anecdotes below:

• Copenhagen, Denmark 10am: A charming homeless man unfurled his sleeping bag about 2 metres in front of where I was playing, cracked a beer and was ready to enjoy the show. He wasn't good for business so I apologetically asked him to move back, just a bit. He looked at me with puppy dog eyes, dropped his head and dragged his sleeping bag away. I felt terrible.

• Kingston, Canada: A mother walked by with her daughter while I was playing and mouthed to me 'do you take corn?' I nodded enthusiastically. "Go on honey, give the lady some organic corn" she said to the little girl. Mmmmmmmm corn. 

• Gothenburg, Sweden: four Australians came from different parts of the street after I played "I still call Australia home". 

• New York, USA: Befriended a bubble blower in Central Park. Smoked weed out of a petrol hose.

• Bergen, Norway: A lady cried and told me her life story after "I still call Australia home"

• Perugia, Italy: I got taken out to dinner by a lovely Italian gentleman. The language barrier made things difficult. It ended up feeling like a cross between a first date and an English/Italian lesson.

• London, England: A drunken busk outside a bar led to a man dropping coins from his apartment a few floors up.

• Bergen, Norway: A bus driver stops his bus en route, gets off and hands me a 50krone note ($9ish). Passengers are confused.

• Leeds, England: After playing "Oh when the saints", I heard a trumpet play "Oh when the saints". I couldn't see the musician in question, but could tell the sound was coming from the apartment block a little ways down the street. I started playing the saints again. This time the trumpeter joined in and we played together in harmony.

• Edinburgh, Scotland: A woman gave me a bag of change she had collected from all the people in her office who had been listening to my sweet, sweet music.

• Paris, France: I played the wedding march for a bride and groom. They were having their wedding photos taken which I now feature in.

• Hamburg, Germany: Germany won their first match in the euro cup, so I went with my Hamburger friends to celebrate. The streets were packed with people. I found an electricity box to stand on and pulled out my trombone. Before I knew it I had a massive crowd of drunks  looking up at me. I mimed thirst. 10 or so people held out their beers for me. Rockstar moment.

• San Francisco, USA: I didn't realise that there would be a naked convention going on the day I decided to busk in the Castro. About 100 naked people across the road from me were…… were…… well I'm not sure what they were doing. Lets just say I wasn't the only one with a boner that day.

Busking in the UK

A random blowing my horn in Kensington Gardens

I spent the last month in the UK, and I have to say despite warm beer, foggy days and whining Brits, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

The busking was up and down. The 40,000 police bought into London during the Olympics didn’t help the situation much.

The police in London intimidated me a lot more than usual. I found myself being a lot more conservative than usual. One day I was playing in St James Park near Buckingham Palace. My set was going quite well until I saw two cops nearby. They started walking towards me. I held my nerve and kept playing. They were only 10 metres away from me now, one reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of coins and threw them in my case. Perhaps they’re not so scary after all.

I was more relaxed heading up north. Manchester bought loads of compliments and very little money while Leeds ended with an impromptu jam session with a trumpet player in an apartment 10 floors above me.

Grimsby was the real surprise though. Known for its fisherman, heroine addicts and teenage mothers, I was surprised to find it one of my most lucrative spots in the UK.

The Edinburgh Fringe Festival was incredibly, a little too incredible. With 1,000’s of world class acts, I was way out of my league.

In Glasgow, it rained.

Samsung Global Bloggers

Simon and TC with a crazy lady who probably owns lots of cats

There were about 70 other Samsung Global Bloggers from 20 different countries who were bought to London to blog about the Olympics.

We were split into groups and given video assignments each day. There were some serious social media gurus among the group; from  people with 30,000 Twitter followers (I have 86) to people you couldn’t befriend on Facebook because they had too many (apparently they cut you off at 5,000).

I was fortunate enough to be in ‘the relaxed group’. TC from Malaysia, Simon from Austria and I decided early on that we’d rather spend our time exploring London than editing videos in the hotel.

Unfortunately this meant that our videos weren’t quite of the same quality, and didn’t end up making it to the website. One of them did make the cut and you can watch that little gem here (Daily show no. 7). Don't be surprised if I get an Oscar nod for my performance.

Olympians

Me and teammate James 'the missile' Magnussen

Samsung hooked us SGBs up pretty well. We got fancy new phones, a hotel room in London and a bunch of Olympic tickets. I got to see rowing, tennis, gymnastics, beach volleyball and a bunch of women’s basketball games, but the real highlight was getting an invite to the Australian Olympic Team reception.

We walked the green carpet with the Australian Olympic team past throngs of cheering fans to the reception where Eddie Maguire was waiting to greet us.

The Olympians weren’t hard to spot. They’re all either huge or tiny. I started chatting to a guy who looked quite familiar to me.
“So what sport do you play?” I asked
He peered down at me from 8 foot high, surprised by the question.
“Ummmm basketball”
“Oh right…. Yes of course”

Days later I realised I’d been talking to Aussie basketball captain Matthew Nielson. I reckon he loved it.

One face I did recognise was Australian Women’s Basketball captain Lauren Jackson. After she was announced as flag bearer for the Opening Ceremony, the party really started.

The Voice

John Farnham came out singing ‘The Voice’. I didn’t think it could get any better. Then he sang ACDC. Surely nothing could top that. Then someone asked me if I was competing.

You're Dumped.

If you’ve ever been backpacking you’ll know how much it sucks carrying around a backpack. Add a trombone and it’s almost too much to bear.

Security has never been a priority for me. I trust that people won’t take my stuff. More than that, I trust that people don’t want my stuff. A bag of dirty clothes and a beat up trombone is hardly good bounty.

Over the years I’ve found some great free places to dump my stuff. Open lockers are pretty good; convenient, safe-ish and relatively unsuspicious. Free museums and galleries are great too. Check your bag in, then sneak out. The only problem is you might have the people from the gallery chasing you down the street yelling ‘hey, wait, you forgot your bag’.

My latest theory is ‘if you can’t see it, you can’t steal it’. The idea being that I hide my bags somewhere, usually in a bush, then pick them up later.

Fast forward to the Olympics in London. I decided to take my trombone to the beach volleyball to add to the already upbeat atmosphere. Unfortunately when I reached security I was informed that no bags over 25 litres would be admitted into Olympic venues.

They told me there might be lockers at the nearest tube station. I didn’t believe them. The game was about to start and I wasn’t about to miss it looking for somewhere to dump my trombone.

The venue was just by St James Park and there was security everywhere. I found a bush and stashed my trombone. I tried to look casual as I emerged from the shrubbery covered in dirt, leaves in my hair.

Four hours later I returned to discover that my trombone was gone. In it’s place was this note:

I went to the police station and picked up my trombone without trouble. I think I found a new place to leave my stuff.

Waaaa waaaa waaa waaaaaaaa

That’s the sound of a sad trombone, and I’m sorry to say that I have a very sad trombone on my hands.

My wonderful parents bought me this trombone very cheaply when I was 12. It’s a 1983 Conn, and never looked like much, but it makes a beautiful sound.

Over the years I’ve come to know my trombone quite well. I learnt quite recently that it doesn’t like flying.

It came off the plane bent and dented with a broken spit valve. Not in a way that only musicians would notice, but in a way that even people who have never seen a trombone in their life notice.

Things got worse when I found a crack in the bell the other day. Thank goodness for duct tape.

It still has a few more flights to go. I hope it makes it.

The Busking Mafia

Yes they do exist in various cities, mostly in Europe as I’ve begun to discover.

The busking mafia is basically a group of buskers who take over all the best busking spots and don‘t let anyone else play. Gasp, horror, the evils of society finally come to light!

Apparently since Romania became part of the EU, tons of Romanians have made there way to the richer European countries where they form organised busking and begging communities.

My friend Michael, a local Hamburger, had suspected something was up about these buskers for a while. In the 5 days I spent in Hamburg, I saw about 20 different people playing the accordion.

If you want to busk somewhere and there’s already a busker there, you should ask the current busker how long they will be and suggest swapping on an hourly basis. That’s pretty common busker etiquette.

Most cities have busking laws stating that a busker can’t occupy a pitch for more than an hour or two,

This is where the mafia come in.

The accordion players in Hamburg didn’t stay in the same place all day, rather swapped every few hours, so you could never get a good spot.

Bergen, Norway did not have such a strong busking presence, but was rife with beggars. Rumour has it, beggars and accordion players are in cahoots, controlling the scene on the street and making a fortune.

I played in a spot in Bergen where I’d seen an accordion player the day before. I had a good set. Then the accordion player came up to me.

“I play here” he said “you go, I play here”.

My non confrontational nature really came to light. I said OK and walked away.
For more on the beggar/busking mafia in Bergen, read this article.

Gothenburg in Sweden had a similar system but with a begging mafia rather than a busking mafia. Apparently up to 60 beggars were driven to town in a bus and picked up at the end of the day. Where they live, nobody knows

Fortunately they gave me no trouble. We nodded at each other and I made sure I played a long way away. I’d rather not find a horse’s head in my bed thank you very much.

A Time for Change

I have a love-hate relationship with coins. I love that they’re money, but I hate pretty much everything else about them. They’re heavy, noisy, easy to lose but hard to get rid of.

I learnt the importance of getting rid of coins the hard way. I tried to get rid of my coins before I left Germany but no banks would take them. Fortunately my lovely friends in Hamburg offered to take them off my hands, unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

I suddenly found myself in Scandinavia lugging over 150 euros in coins through 3 different countries with 3 different currencies. It’s a lot like putting rocks in your backpack. Stupid.

In Norway I bought myself a ticket for a fjord tour. The man went out back to print my ticket.

On his return he found 800krona in coins neatly piled on the counter.

He looked at the coins, unsure of what to do.

“So, ummm, you’ll be paying in cash then?” he asked.

Some people are not so nice about it. I bought a local bus ticket in Italy. It was only a 1.50euro so I thought it would be a good opportunity to use up some of the annoying bronze coins I was lugging around.

I started counting out 1c, 2c and 5c coins. The man started to lose his patience.
“Do you have anything bigger?” he asked
I looked up from counting.
“No” I lied

I got to about 1.30 and ran out of bronze coins. I had to subtly pull out a few 10c coins. That’s when he cracked.

“No, no I can’t accept these coins” he said
“But you have to” I said, “it’s legal tender”
“I cannot! No one will take these coins.”
“I know, but you have to”

Stubborn Maya was out to play.

We argued a little longer. A line started to build behind me. I had all the time in the world, the shopkeeper did not. I won.

Samsung. Global. Blogger. Winner. Stupid.

While I was working on Hayman, my mother asked me ‘what’s next?’
After going from working on the street to a 5 star resort, the obvious next step was the Olympics.

I started looking at Olympic jobs last year, and even applied for a few that I was grossly unqualified for. It seemed the Olympic organisers were mainly looking for people could organise things. i.e not me.

Then I heard about this Samsung Olympic blogging competition. It had my name written all over it- Olympics, blogging, videos.

Fast forward a couple of months and I’m sitting in a hostel in Copenhagen and I found out I won.

I looked around for the Germen guy I’d befriended, he wasn’t there. I didn’t know anyone else. I smiled at people in a way that said ‘you should come talk to me so I can tell you how awesome I am’. Didn’t happen.

I skyped my very excited parents. Mum wanted all the details so I decided it would be easier to forward her the email. The email that said if you don’t reply in 5 days time you forfeit your prize.

Obviously I replied in time. I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go begging, or was I?

7 days later I was surprised that I still hadn’t heard back. I checked my original email. I’d accidentally sent it to my Mum. Yes, I am that incompetent.

I wrote a somewhat hysterical email to the original address and played the waiting game. That painful kind of waiting game where your stomach is in knots and you’re filled with regret.

Anyhoo, it’s all good now. It looks like the universe has smiled down on me once again. Lucky Maya.

My prize:

• Flights to London (not using them, already here)
• 10 nights accommodation in London (in a hotel, not a tent or a bus shelter :))
• Tickets to at least one Olympic event 
• Samsung Galaxy Note or Samsung phone

For more info on the competition click here