Catching Out: Europe

The motorbike in Manchester, UK

Freedom vs Rights:

My bankcard stopped working on the way to Manchester, but luckily I had a twenty-dollar bill to pay for petrol. When I logged onto internet banking, a message said my account had been closed. And I completely panicked…no zen breathing this time. We had 8 Euros, Six Dollars, and 10 Swiss Francs between us, and I was certain we would be stranded in the UK. But after several hysterical phone calls to the States, I learned that the bank had merely put a hold on my account because of suspicious activity. I recommended they consider refining the system.

CATCHING OUT played at a rather swank pub in Manchester called the Arch Bar as part of a regular screening series called Beyond TV (www.beyondtv.org). Despite the fact that an hour before the screening the organizers hadn't found a DVD player to use, they predicted a large turnout. And to my astonishment at least 80 people straggled into the room…the seats were filled and people stood on the stairs and sat on tables. A chaotic scene with people coming and going and noise invading from the bar below. I didn't see how anyone could possibly pay attention to the film.

But a core group of about 30 viewers stayed for one of the most overtly political discussions during the entire tour. The free use movement is apparently fairly strong in England, and an advocate of the copyleft method (www.plugincinema.com/plugin/articles/opensourcefilms.htm) asked about my decision to copyright the film. Someone else suggested that I make the film available as a free download on the internet - a concept that is growing on me.

The most dynamic discussion happened later with a New Zealander who had exclaimed, "Fucking brilliant!" when the film was over. As we were talking, I might have mentioned the radical freedom that I believe the film celebrates. He snapped, "Fuck freedom, I want to talk about rights." He felt the word to be synonymous with selfishness. I pointed out that the term 'rights' could also be twisted and argued that we reclaim freedom from the corporate and political entities that have destroyed its meaning. But of course I knew what he meant - the need to protect the welfare of the many from the greed of the few.

A false start delayed the journey to London, but after leaving Manchester the second time, we traveled thru a National park in late afternoon sunshine. For a few hours I truly enjoyed being on the bike. In London, I participated in a documentary workshop called the European Funding Weekend. Two intense and constructive days that helped me hone the idea for my next film about Fair Trade coffee. After the workshop our rapidly dwindling resources forced us to flee the UK immediately, and we left London sometime after dark.

A few miles outside of Dover I felt numb inside and wondered if I was even alive. I started squeezing Mike with increasing urgency as I became desperate to get off the bike.

We exited. I screamed "Stop the bike!" and he pulled to the shoulder in the middle of a roundabout. I hobbled toward the guardrail and started running in place maniacally. Mike couldn't help laughing at the insanity of the scene. A concerned couple stopped to see if they could help, but we felt we could survive the 10 miles to the ferry.

On the ferry we drank hot chocolate and coffee and put on all the clothes we had. Mike wore a pair of my long underwear (he is 6'4" and said he felt like a ballet dancer), sweatpants, jeans and multiple layers of shirts and hoodies under his snowboard jacket. I wore silk long underwear, fleece leggings, jeans, khakis, plus two layers of long underwear under a silk turtleneck, hoodie, down vest, and a leather biker jacket. I also wore a wool hat and hoodie under my helmet. We landed at Calais at 11pm with 350 km ahead of us.

On the outskirts of Antwerp we passed a sign reading 5C (41F). We stopped at a rest stop for food and warmth but the snack bar was closed. We did jumping jacks instead. A passing truck honked to cheer us on.

In Antwerp we found a small pub serving pea soup. As we stripped off some of our layers, an old man looked perplexed and asked "It's not that cold, is it?" Mike pointed to the motorbike and I think the man understood.

Twenty kilometers outside Amsterdam the skies emptied in rain so thick we could hardly see. When we arrived home at 3am Mike smiled and said, "Nice ending."

We spent the entire next day in bed.

previous | next