A Busking We Will Go.

We strolling down La Rambla toward Barcelona's harbor where Christorpher Columbus watches over the harbor from atop his lofty pedestal, and bouys look like little boys, when I clutched Claudette's arm in disbelief.  On the sidewalk was a huge creature  with wings and golden horns.  Except for his horns and the whites of his eyes, he was completely black.  There was a forked tail and boney fingers with long nails.  The muscular black arms  held a pretty English girl in shorts and halter top, while her boyfriend took their picture with an iPhone.  This demon was one of many street performers on the street that day.  We enjoy the street performers where ever we encounter them. There are a variety of acts.  Perhaps the newest is the person representing a statue.  One of the first I saw was a trumpet player in silver.  Every inch of him was covered in silver paint.  He sat motionless in front of his tip box. We've seen many different "statues", but the most interesting  was in New Orleans on Royal Street. He was unpainted, looked like a regular construction worker climbing a ladder with a six-foot length of wood on his shoulder. He was motionless, balanced on his latter about three rungs off the pavement.  I did hear of a "statue" that was not a "statue".  It seems a clever young man posed a well dressed and made-up manikin in front of a tip jar.  He would place the manikin on the street in the morning  and check the tip jar during the day. At the end of the day he would collect his earnings and manikin.  Probably one of the most famous street entertainers is the naked cowboy of Times Square.  Although not quite naked, he wears a cowboy hat, boots, BVDs, and plays a guitar, he his quite entertaining. There are quite a variety of performers on the street.  We've seen opera singers, string quartets, folk dancers, performing marionettes, glass players,  fire eaters, and musicians of all kinds.  Another memorable sight was the fire eater near the Eiffel Tower in the early evening. I've always been fond of fire eaters ever since a shipmate filled his mouth with lighter fluid and ignited the stream he squirted from between his two front teeth.  The event took place in a berthing compartment, after taps, aboard the USS Intrepid while steaming in the South China Sea. He was reluctant to repeat the performance. We were on the train from Paris to Vernon when we were entertained by an impromptu performance in our car. At one of the stops a man with an accordion boarded the train and began playing standing just inside the entrance door. At the next stop he was joined by a sax player, and at a later stop a clarinetist joined the group.  We enjoyed some great music until they disembarked before Vernon. The pretty girl sitting across from us never woke up.  Must have had a late night.

intr.v. busked, busk·ing, busks To play music or perform entertainment in a public place, usually while soliciting money.

It seems to be a romantic lifestyle: performing whenever and getting paid for it. But not necessarily so. I recently talked with a busker on New Orlean's Royal Street.

Street musician who wished
to remain anonymous.

"Playing on the street must be the life," I said.

"Not really," the bearded musician said.

"What could happen?"

"Lots of things. Well," he added with a sigh,"there's the weather. If it's raining, you can't work"

"But you get a lot of sunshine here."

"Yeah, but there's other things." He seemed reluctant to continue. "You have to claim your spot."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure, sometimes I have to get up and be here at 5 a.m. just be sure we have a place to play.  Location is everything.  This is a numbers game; the more people that see you the bigger chance someone will put something in the tip jar."

"Do you need a permit?"

"Not here.  The cops don't bother you here.  Of course, New Orleans has the reputation for having the most corrupt police department in the country.  I don't care though, so long as they don't bother me.  Some places the cops do hassle you though.  They claim you're panhandlin' or just any thing to run you out of town."

But I noticed that his eyes were always moving from left to right behind the wire-rimmed glasses.

"Been doing this long?" I was curious.

"A few years in a lot of different cities. We took a bicycle road trip last year from New Orleans to Woodstock, NY and earned our way busking. So, I guess we did alright."

"I don't think I could handle this kind of lifestyle," I said.

"It takes a certain kind of person, I guess. I gotta be free!" he said as he picked up his instrument and walked away down Royal Street toward a string band beginning to set up.