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A personal experience of Stukafest 2012
It has taken me a few days to write about this one. But this experience is one that is definitely worth writing about. Its an experience i will probably continue to write about for a long time.
My experience with Stuka fest.

So what is Stuka fest, and whats the smelly socks for.
That is also what i wondered when on one of my first days in Maastricht, when i was still living at the Stay Ok hostel, and still renting a bike, (this orange beauty) that although it had nothing compare to Gazzel, ( I think that bike wise i rather brunets then rengas), it was a beauty of a bike. I was looking for a house at the time, and a bike, and after a few good hours of running around i headed to my usual break spot at the time, a cafe called Deli Berge, known to have the best sandwiches in Maastricht. And over there as i was about to park my bike was standing this beautiful girl somewhat red head somewhat strawberry blond trying to give me some kind of a brucher asking me if id like to come to some festival. While i might not be the red head type for bikes, i guess its not the same when you look outside the metal frame spectrum. And so even though its usually better to shake your head and say no thanks and leave, I took the brochure.
I had a look. I am having a look at it right now. Pictures of socks, and guitars, beer bottles and microphones.
Slowly but surely I realised what it was i was looking at.

Some things you find are like little pandora boxes. Not in the sense that they are bed or bring about bed things. But just in the sense that things just keep on flowing out of them, more and more and more and more and more. Its true when you find about a cool video on you tube, which leads you to more and more. Its true when you discover a picture of dirty socks. Slowly but surely, i realised i was looking at one of the coolest things i have come across in a while.

Stuka Fest = an arts and culture festival revolving around students apartments. Sixteen different acts ranging from music, comedy and theatre, to art dance and poetry. Those are performers from all over the Netherlands and Europe. 16 different cool students apartments where the acts will take place in kitchens, bed rooms, living rooms, stair cases, etc. Three rounds of acts, you have to choose one of the 16 for each. You have a map of the secret locations, you make your own route, choose your own mode of transportation, i.e. a bike. And you have one crazy night out ahead. I ate my sandwich, looked over the performers, made my choices, came outside and bought the tickets. "Tell all your friends about it, bring them a long as well"! I don't really know anyone here yet, i tell them, but once i do i will.

Fast forward 2 weeks, and i am by myself rushing out of dutch class cycling out of uni towards the bridge, to cross the river, in hope to get on time to the first act. I have missed the opening act already (before the 3 rounds) and couldn't get anyone to come with me for the ride. Whatever, i like making my own way (as long as i know where i am going) ( I don't). I cycle past a few people in the street and using well tuned intuition, and the fact that i can see they are also using a map i ask if they are also going to Stuka fest, and are on the way to see Meno Barss. "You mean the live artist yeah?", indeed i say. We join and walk together, cross the bridge and come across more people, mostly girls. Are you guys going to see menno bars? " the guy who makes live art yeah?... follow us its at my friend's place". Now this is the beauty of Stuka fest, take a turn into an alleyway, go to some back entrance, follow the smelly socks stickers into the stair case, follow the stair case, into a roof top garden, come to a door, and there you will find your first act. I open the door to find myself in heaven. Coolest little living room, kitchen connected, new york atmosphere, its warm inside (its freezing outside) and other than the artist myself and another one or two guy, the place is full of beautiful german and dutch girls. A few minutes pass and the ratio intensifies, more beautiful girls, no guys. I love Maastricht. But for the sake of the pursuit of arts and culture let me get back and tell you about this artist. Live artist Menno Baars is a Dutch artist who has positioned himself in the living room of these girls not far from the little makeshift bar they made, and right under a massive wall with a door in the middle. He invites 5 people from the crowd, gives them white t-shirts, and position them across the wall in funny postures. He then takes his paint brushes and gets to work. Over the wall over the people. Fabric, Wall, Skin, its crazy. While he does that, we all socialise, drink some cheap beers, take photos. The end result is a cool wall and a few coloured people. By the end of the third round this place will be wicked.

We look at our clocks (that is phones, no one has clocks these days), realise the time and decide to head to our next act before its too late. We thank the girls for having us and we are on our way. I am not alone anymore. I am now cycling with my Chillien friend, who decided to dump her plans for this massive beer game organised by ESN, where most exchange students are at the moment (understandably, that game is suppose to be one of the craziest thing ever, but thats a diff story all together). We get to the next spot, find it hard to find a place to park our bikes, since it seems that everyone else have also decided to be green, healthy, and poor. We knock on the door, like before we are warmly welcomed in by the host and then follow her to her bed room. I am excited! Never before has a girl taken me to her bedroom so quickly. My excitement seizes when i see that the bed room is already full of about 30 or so other people. The room is quite small and the people find themselves a spot in it, like clothes on the floor. I join the 10 or so other people on the bed, Camilla joins on the floor, between the bed and a pile of shoes. After being offered some swigs of red wine, noticing a few familiar faces and having a few friendly chats, the artist emerges. The room has a little extra area where the desk and closet are kept. Over there the artist has set up her keyboard and Trumpet stand. Noam Verzana, Israeli artist currently residing in Holland, is a singer, trumpet player, pianist, and lyricist ( can't believe i managed to spell this). She is sweet and both shy and direct. Swaps between happy melodies and deep and meaning full ones, beautiful voice full songs accompanied by her talented keyboard skills, and full on trumpet sections. The room is lighted red, the music is good, we are all sharing wine and space on the bed and the floor and the experience is amazing. She engages with the audience like one can only engage when you are a meter or so away from eachother and we enjoy our second experience of Stuka fest.

Finish the act, ep was bought, a chat with the singer was made, the map checked for destination and we run off to our next and last act. This one we chose to be the mystery act. We have no idea whats it about. "You sure you know where we are going", "sure i do" says Camilla. I don't question much. We get to the place. She was right, like before and the time beforehand, we see the little sock stickers in the street, ring the bell, they buzz us in, - its a start case, we see a little painted canvas with the familiar symbol and we follow the stickers up again till we get to a door. Excited and happy we didn't miss anything, we sit on the floor. This is someone's kitchen. I realise i am sitting next to a friend of mine who was suppose to be at another act, she asks me "what are you doing here" i say " i was always coming here". Like onions we take all our layers off (its about -10 outside and its body heat plus inside). As the door closes, as the guy at the front gets up to speak i quickly say, this is the mystery act, right?
Embarrassing. "No this is Estaban- the comedy act". We look at each other, think of our options. Shrug. Whatever, lets see whats this guy has got. Born in Colombia raised and in the Netherlands, Estaban is a dutch comedian of the the higher level. He does not pick on anyone from the crowd or tell typical jokes putting people down. Estaban is a story teller, combining comedy with the story of his roots, childhood, dreams and fears. He takes the audience to see life through his eyes. And the deeper you go down the rabbit whole the funnier it gets. Jokes about being embarrassed and ducking down in the car so not to be seen but the still Afro still peaks up and gives you away, about being chained to a lego boat by Sinter Class and told to paddle, and about Homeless people who love House Music. Enjoyed every moment and didn't care we missed the mystery act. We chat with Estaban hear about his exciting new-coming projects and leave.

Upon leaving i allowed myself to "borrow the symbol painted canvas", and we start heading towards the after party. Some of us didn't have bikes so we walked and we ended up walking into a few other people in the same direction so we joined up. One thing brings to another and i realise that these are the girls who coordinate Stuka fest in the Netherlands. They tell me about the history and its development, and what it is now, joined with what i was told by the co-ordinators of the maastricht brunch i try put it together. Adapted from a one-off festival in Denemark which had events in peoples houses, the idea was taken into the the houses of students in Utrecht (I think), and adopted to become Stuka fest (Student Karmer fesstival- a festival at student houses). From there onwards it sprung up in many other parts of the Netherlands, and has been running for the past 10 years or so. Every city has its own coordinators and its own program and one body of co-ordinators work around the country, trying to tie the vibe and ideas together and provide communality for the cities, and a source for guidance and help. I congratulate the girls and make a mental note, as well as a verbal one, to take this back to australia in some way shape or form.

We go to the after party. Soon after we decide to ditch it and head off to the Mandril, one of many squats in Maastricht. Tonight is Jam sessions Tuesdays and tonight in particular there is one of the last acts by local band The Serious Beans. We get to the Mandril and find about 100 or so people dancing on top of each other, on top of couches, trying to fit into a small room, just so they could get a piece of the sweet gypsy music that the beans play. Double bass, accordions, violins, trumpets, guitarist, amazing vocals, they have got it all. We dance till 3 in the morning pass their act and back into the jam when I decide to call it a night. Like most nights in the past 2 or so weeks, i find myself cycling back to the guest house in the early hours of the morning, through -10 or so, using two pairs of beanies, gloves and sweaters.

The clothes keep me warm but in the long run, lots of partying, and lots of cold, little sleep, and whatnot adds up. It is now Saturday night, everyone is out. I am at home. Last night was the same story, The Seriouse Beans were playing again, but i was home. I am sick and recuperating. But I am happy. I guess i just have to accept that this is what happens when you go on a treasure hunt at -10 degrees celsius.

from: http://thebicyclediaries.weebly.com/

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