Another foggy road between München and Lausanne.
A woman stands hitch-hiking at the entrance of the autobahn dressed in a black XVIIth century uniform; she takes a ride in our yellow vehicle. And starts telling her strange story – and it’s like Hermann Hesse’s Narziß & Goldmund… She’s a carpenter travelling from Hamburg, on her Wandergesellen ritual journey: three years and one day on the roads of Europe -with no right to return in a 50km-radius from her hometown- just riding from town to town, knocking at the door of master carpenters to ask for work, owning nothing but a five-euro bill, and travelling with only a backpack, two pairs of socks, a walking stick named James, a tie with her corporation’s symbols (that no one has the right to touch!), a mini-guitar to sing old Plattdeutsch songs from the Frison Islands, jew’s harps from Vietnam, a corduroy jacket that weighs six kilograms, a sleeping bag, and a small notebook with messages from all the people she meets. We drop her near Bern at a highway crossing, and she says she knows the place, cause she’s slept under that bridge a few weeks before.
In Lausanne, Béjart’s Metropole Theatre is towering over us…
The city of Lausanne municipal orchestra is on stage – isolated behind a continuous plexiglas screen – rehearsing for their perormance with the band Archive but they struggle to make themselves heard over the massive guitars and synths.
And it is a noisy crowd too but somehow that night a moment of silence is reached…
