Transcript of the interview, published on Radio Študent, 6. 11. 2024
In the circus-focused broadcast Jutranji padec (Morning Drop) fellow circus artists Oton Korošec and Ema Herlec are interviewing me about my experience as a juggler and street performer, while travelling by bicycle from Slovenia to India. Original recording in Slovenian language is available here.
Oton: Today Oton, Ema and Uroš are here with you. Uroš is our guest today; he is a filmmaker, poet, blogger, juggler and a traveller. Uroš, you were on a trip last year, right? Can you tell us how you decided to go on that journey and how you prepared for it? What kind of route did you plan?
Uroš: First of all, a big hello from my side as well. Thank you for the invitation.
Well, it was quite a complex set of factors that led me to decide on a year-long trip. Specifically, I spent a year on a bike, traveling from Ljubljana all the way to India. The route was roughly planned. I decided along the way, for example, that I would pass through Iraq. I also realized during the journey that I was really interested in Pakistan, and I ended up spending the most time there, almost four months. I already had experience with long journeys and spending time outdoors, which was an important factor. Everything in my life just aligned in such a way that I knew it was time to get on the bike and go.
Oton: When did you get on the bike? What time of year?
Uroš: I started in the summer, mid-July. That’s an ideal time for this trip because you pass through hot areas during the winter, especially Iran. I was a bit worried that it would still be hot, but it turned out to be perfect. I don’t remember any serious rainfall during this time. There was some snow in the mountains. In the end it was very hot in India before the monsoon. But I managed to escape to the north, into the mountains – Himalayas. It was much cooler there, I felt good.
Ema: Did you carry a warm jacket with you?
Uroš: Of course. Everything I had with me was suitable for all four seasons. If anything happened, I would be independent. I could set up camp by the side of the road. That’s also the most practical thing, because most of the time, day by day, I didn’t know where my path would end. That was my plan B for any situation. There were many encounters with people who invited me to their homes, so I spent a lot of nice time with them too.
Oton: How much did your luggage weigh?
Uroš: I estimate that, including the bike, it was about 45 kilograms, with one bag just for circus props. That included the costume and the speaker.
Oton: Well, that was going to be my next question – how much of that weight was circus equipment? Can you tell us what props you took with you?
Uroš: The heaviest piece of equipment was the costume, a blue worker’s overall with many pockets, weighing almost two kilograms. Then the speaker, which was a compromise – as small as possible, but still loud enough to be heard on the street. It weighed about a kilogram. Then there were the juggling balls and some smaller items like the hat and the tie.
Ema: How many juggling balls did you carry?
Uroš: Five.
Ema: Did you lose any balls on the way?
Uroš: Fortunately, no, I was quite careful. After performances, the balls often ended up in the hands of local children, but I have to say they handled them very respectfully. They always brought them back.
Oton: And what did you do with the balls during your journey?
Uroš: I mainly juggled, but often they just lay squeezed in my bags and lost their round shape, so I had to fix them, inflate them, and clean them because they fell on all kinds of surfaces.
Ema: Inflate them? What do you mean?
Uroš: The air would escape from them.
Ema: Do you have some kind of pump for that?
Uroš: No, you just open the valve, and it inflates by itself.
Ema: Hm, interesting. We’ll talk more about your juggling and performances, which have some very interesting anecdotes. But now we’ll take a musical break. You prepared music for today’s show. The first track … Maybe you could tell us how you chose it?
Uroš: I tried to pick some songs I encountered along the way. Now we’re going to hear Şakiro, a Kurdish musician. I first came across him in a private apartment with friends in the city of Diyarbakır, the capital of Turkish Kurdistan. Guys had a guitar in the apartment. We were drinking tea, smoking, and at one point late in the night they started singing and playing music by this artist. It’s rebellious music in the region, and we listened with the windows closed because you can get into trouble if the wrong neighbours hear it. Let’s listen.
Ema: Uroš, on your journey, you performed a lot on the streets with your show Pocket Juggling. I’m curious, how did the show change, depending on where you performed? Can you share more about that?
Uroš: Well, the show developed along the way. When I decided to travel by bicycle, I had about 3 minutes ready; I knew what the costume would be, and I only used one juggling ball. I performed this show about three times at various circus cabarets during the summer in Ljubljana. Then I found some old music from another performance, I needed more sound material for the road. I prepared music for 15 minutes, which had changing atmospheres – from the ticking of a clock to fast rhythms. After that the show started evolving on the road. I simply built it together with the audience. The first time I performed it was in Prishtina, Kosovo. That’s when I realized that my costume’s pockets, there are seven of them, weren’t the only interesting thing. What’s really interesting is what comes out of people’s pockets on the street. That’s when I started, in a respectful and slow manner, reaching into their pockets, and it really took off from there.
Some moments were very funny. For example, I pulled a ribbon with little red bow from one pocket and tied it into a girl’s hair, or I found white socks in someone’s pocket and played with them. Over time these situations became more elaborate. I started collecting wallets and other valuable items. Phones became too ordinary, so I stopped using them. I remember one magical moment in India, in Leh – someone had an adorable little red&white envelope in the pocket. That was something very special, because I wasn’t expecting anything so beautiful. When I took it out it was also a big moment for the audience, even I had the feeling that I had placed a love letter there myself … but we were all equally surprised.
I played with improvisation and built short stories. In the end I always returned these objects to people in a respectful way and with gratitude.
Ema: Is it any different to perform at the other side of the world? It must be, right? How is it performing there compared to Europe or Slovenia?
Uroš: It’s very different, right from the start, especially when it comes to gathering people. I have a similar experience from Morocco. When you perform at a location with a tradition of street performance or where there’s a lot of curiosity from people, you quickly gather a large audience, which creates a special atmosphere and it’s truly a joy to perform. In that environment unexpected stories can happen. The performance gains a new energy. We’re talking about a street show, where every replay is unique. For example, in Ladakh in India I performed three shows a day for four consecutive days. I remember on the last day younger locals were waiting for me on the street. I asked them how many times they had seen my show. I was surprised when they answered five times, but they still decided to watch it again because each performance was different. Here I’m mainly referring to the role and responses of the audience.
Ema: Did they then start putting things in their pockets for you?
Uroš: No, I didn’t notice that. By then they had become my fans, sitting by my bike and enthusiastically following me. At the end people often wanted to take photos with me or invited me for tea or a meal. Those experiences were wonderful.
Oton: Did you speak during the performance?
Uroš: No, it was all without words. Only after the performance did I thank everyone in English and explain that this was part of my cycling journey, that this show travels, and by supporting it they help the whole project.
Ema: Hm, incredible. Since we want to include all the songs, let’s move on to the next track we’ll be playing. It’s from Iran, right? What will we be listening to now, Uroš?
Uroš: Yes, from Iran. I discovered this music when I travelled with the locals on a side trip. In the south of Iran, by the sea, I spent two nights with a family in Baluchistan. The boys took me on a boat and we also drove around in a car, all the while listening to Iranian music. I was curious about what they were listening to and they wrote down the names of the artists on my phone. Now we’ll be listening to a song by the Iranian singer Hayedeh. In Iran women singing in public is currently not allowed, but she’s a singer from before the Islamic Revolution (1979) who is still very present, the youth continue to listen to her. This is one of her songs.
Oton: Uroš, you were busking on the streets and also at traffic lights. Could you tell us what this format looks like and what your experiences have been?
Uroš: I mostly performed at traffic lights in the Balkans and for the last time in Istanbul. Before that I didn’t have much experience with this format. I got more familiar with it in Zagreb. I was staying in the circus squat Postaja, where I met a bunch of South Americans traveling and living of circus performing. We went together on the roads at the traffic lights, where I performed my new one-minute juggling routine. This way I partly funded my travels. It was also interesting to meet and get to know people, something I didn’t really expect. One of the more surprising experiences was in Sofia, Bulgaria. I didn’t know anyone in the city. I was cycling around looking for an intersection where I could juggle. I had information from my friends in Zagreb that Sofia was a good place to do it. When I arrived at the crossroad that seemed suitable from afar, I noticed that three other performers were already doing their shows at different parts of the intersection. I met an Argentine, a Mexican, and a Bulgarian group who were juggling in the park and occasionally jumping over the fence to the road to juggle clubs. I took the remaining fourth corner.
Every evening I would juggle there for two or three hours, then we would meet in the park, chat and juggle together. It was a really nice atmosphere. In the end I had a bit too much money left over in Bulgaria.
Ema: Too much money?
Uroš: Maybe I should have juggled a bit less. Of course, I exchanged it in Turkey. I also had an incredible experience in Istanbul – the response from the people was amazing, people applauded by honking their horns! In Europe I learned, if there’s a bus at the intersection, it won’t end well – you won’t earn much. But in Turkey the bus driver always collected the money from the passengers and gave it out the window to me.
Ema: Really?
Uroš: Yes, and the motorcyclists, who usually crossed through the red light a bit earlier, stopped while I was still juggling and shoved money into my pockets. I often laughed from the heart, but almost deafened by the crazy honking.
Oton: Did any police ever stop you?
Uroš: Of course. In Bulgaria the rule was, if there’s police at the intersection, you wait on the side and don’t perform. In Plovdiv I noticed a police car too late. The window rolled down and the officer signalled me to stop. 20 minutes later, while I walked to the middle of the road to do juggling, police car stopped again, and they took me to the police station. I signed a document saying I wouldn’t perform at traffic lights anymore. They looked at me a bit sternly, but everything ended well. My friends told me nothing worse could happen than a fine, like 10 euros.
Ema: Did you continue performing at traffic lights after that?
Uroš: In that town I was only for a short time, so I didn’t continue performing. Later in Turkey I started again.
Ema: I know you have another very interesting police anecdote.
Uroš: I had a lot of contact with the police due to street performing because every place has its own rules. Often the cities weren’t even suitable for performing. In India for example I was already collecting contributions in my hat after a show, when four police officers surrounded me and wanted me to go with them. Since I was with my bike, I didn’t want to get in their car, so they escorted me on foot to the station. They checked my documents and wanted to know what exactly I was performing. It seemed they were mostly bothered by my bike in the pedestrian zone. They showed me two local artists who were sitting in a corner of the station yard. They had been caught performing music on the street without a permit as well. In the end they invited all of us to the yard, where about 12 officers gathered. They said: “Now you create something together – you two play music, and you juggle.” I was still in my costume. It was absurd and funny, as we made a short performance there and laughed together with policemen.
Oton: Did they tell you that for future performances you should notify the police by phone, since they liked you?
Uroš: The next day I decided to get a permit. I had time and was also curious about how the Indian bureaucracy works. I spent five hours visiting five different offices, two different police stations, even 8 kilometres away. I exchanged phone numbers with the heads of the stations and promised to notify them when I would perform. And they came to check, but there were no problems. For a few more days I performed under the permit and had a lot of fun.
Ema: Has there ever been a situation where you couldn’t perform on your journey because it wasn’t allowed, or did you decide not to perform?
Uroš: In Iran. At first I was checking whether I could perform, but I had a few experiences that discouraged me. Public gatherings aren’t allowed. Under a bridge people were singing folk songs when the police broke the crowds up. I asked local people involved in culture, a puppeteer and a dancer, and they advised me I could perform in a park, but I should be ready for an hour-long conversation with the police. A month earlier I had a very bad experience in Iraq, where I ended up in prison, so I decided not to risk again in those places. I waited until Pakistan, where I performed again.
Ema: You performed at a school, didn’t you?
Uroš: Yes, that was part of a school program. I also held workshops for students, they were learning to juggle. We made juggling balls by ourselves. I stayed there for three weeks.
Ema: What did you make the juggling balls from?
Uroš: From balloons, we filled them with sand. I thought it would be a waste to use rice.
Ema: Good. We’re nearing the last song. Uroš, will you tell us what we’re going to hear?
Uroš: Since we’re in Pakistan now, the artist we’re about to hear is also known as the Pakistani Pavarotti in the West. This type of music is called qawwali. I first heard it in a car while I was hitchhiking to visit a friend. The driver played this song very loudly. I asked who the singer was and he played it again for me, even louder.
Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan: Sanson Ki Mala Peh
Ema: Our interview is coming to an end. Uroš, could you perhaps tell us why you chose this song that’s playing in the background right now?
(Hilight Tribe: Free Tibet, Vini Vinci remix)
Uroš: I had to get into a pick-up because I wasn’t allowed to cycle through a long tunnel. A soldier stopped the first vehicle behind me. Inside were two young men and we turned up the volume of this song, which was already playing in the car. All the songs I’ve chosen today somehow appeared organically on my journey. This is a red thread that connects them into a story and that’s why I picked them.
Ema: Thank you very much for joining us in the show.
Uroš: Thank you for having me.
Transcribed from the sound recording and translated with the use of AI tools.