We’re busy packing up stuff for tomorrow’s epic journey but not too busy to scan in this leaflet from Prague’s Museum of Communism. They’re a little down on it to be honest… Anyroad, if you look at the location of the place at the bottom, it’s ‘upstairs from McDonalds, Next to the Casino’. We made it to the casino, but we weren’t up for the McGhoulash Happy Meal.
Also, it’s yer last chance to order fancy American exports before we leave- nylons, chocolate and chewing gum anyone? A militarily enforced democracy? Creationist high school biology textbooks? Comment away your order below
Really extremely busy, and there’s tons going on this month so I really want to get as much done as possible as we enter September so I can make it to all the patriotic nonsense going on. Mexican flag sellers are back with their surplus stock from the World Cup and everyone’s got one on their house or car. Upcoming festivities include the city center becoming a night-long fiesta zone, paper balloon and martial arts demos in Ajijic and its Fiestas Patrias 2006, mariachithons… you name it. In fact I haven’t got time to be writing this post really…
Found out today after a bit of research what those weird smelling fruit in the garden are. For a while before the tree produced fruit I thought it was a pitaya tree. Then Ana came round and grabbed a bagfull of what turned out to be guayabas. Only today thanks to wikipedia did I find out that guayabas are guavas in English. Not that I’d ever tried one before. They taste vaguely like pears to me and I’m sure that since my prolonged absence from the british isles, they’re staples of every middle-class meal and 1 quid for a dozen in Morrisons. But they still seem exotic things to be growing in the garden. Our little agave’s coming along great guns too. 8 leaves. Eight!
And finally, I very much doubt that my neighbour, Seora Tere, reads me blog but none the less here’s a shout out to her because when I was leaving the house this morning she told me not to shut the door and bustled inside to get something. She said she’d seen me so many times waving newspapers and tin lids and blowing at the BBQ to get it glowing that she bought me a special barbecue fan thing. Which was splendid of her. Fair warms the cockles, so it does. Anyroad, behold, a hand-made mexican barbecue fan.
Let’s start with Friday. I got home from work around 5ish and Sita and I took Mr. Atticus to the beach where he was correctly identified as part schipperke by a stranger. This happens with alarming regularity, many denizens of Santa Cruz appear to have an encyclopedic knowledge of dog breeds. My in-built dog reference guide has bulldog and poodle with a big gap in between. anyroad, after much leaping around and photography we headed home, put Atticus out to pasture and brought Klem and Lulu in for a hop around the furniture… Then we went out for a sophisticated romantic dinner at Pearl Alley Bistro with fine wine and rare meats, dessert and an espresso, all bankrolled by my folks as birthday treat. We went to Well Within and on the way out saw a friend from Scotts’ Valley High, where I used to work, we spent 15 minutes in the street catching up on the goings on of the last few months, and agreed we’d meet up for a beer in the near future. We said our goodbyes and then, as one, turned around and said let’s have them now. Lo it came to pass and we spent the rest of the evening getting through pitchers of Newcastle Brown in the Poet and Patriot pseudo-Irish pub and talking nonsense. Result. or ‘Epic’ as some readers of this blog may say… got home settled Mr.A into his deluxe doggy bed and hit the hay… cue saturday morning. – TO BE CONTINUED- Have to go and watch sita play netball with girls from ucsc at the local elementary school.
Sun streams in throught the window, coffee gets brewed, breakfast is slowly knocked together and a nice long phone call from me mum’n’dad arrives… after that i saddle up the Nissam Altima, get me mobile, radio and camera together and I headed off into the Santa Cruz mountains for to explore the sights and sounds. I timed it just right to hear Car Talk, This American Life and Wait, Wait Don’t Tell me on NPR. And when they ran out I had a few episodes fo the ‘The 99p Show’ burnt onto CDs. Went all along route 9, stopping at the summit for an hour’s walk or so with well pretty views, then moseyed on to Saratoga for a coffee, a muffin and to pick up a copy of The Wave and then onto town…
First off, Manu Chao 101. He’s a French/Basque/Spanish bloke who used to be in (French band) Mano Negra. In ’98 or thereabouts he released his first album, Clandestino which is a fantastic mix of songs about his life as a world traveller sung in French, Spanish, English and nonsense, among other languages, (‘I’m the king of bongo baby, I’m the king of bongo bong”…). Laid back rhythms, sampled loops and irresistible grooves all feature prominently. Also there’s an effect which I’m fairly sure he nicked from an 80s electronic keychain that makes a whistling noise then arcade machine explosion which he’s well fond of. It was followed up in 2002 with Proxima Estación: Esperanza which was more of the same; and when your first album’s as good as his was this is no bad thing. In fact, Radiohead could learn from this stick-to-what-you-know approach to writing albums… but I digress. A live album came out relatively recently which I never got round to downloading, but since I’m not writing for Rolling Stone or Q, that’s allowed… All in all tuneful, politically-aware hippy music.
So what was he like on Sunday? Well we arrived at 7:30, doors were billed for 8 and we queued for quite a while building up a quite a thirst and admiring the t-shirts, listening to some kind of musical mayhem inside… we finally got in and found our seats right at the vertiginous top of the bull ring to the left of the stage and established base camp. I went to get a round of Estrella dobles in. The first bar had sold out so they sent me to the next which was also dry, I then made it to the last bar and managed to get to the front without too much elbowing only to be ignored for 15 minutes. Victor had come looking for me by this stage, and helped me get their attention but even then it took forever. I managed to get the last 5 beers in the whole stadium. Amazing if you ask me that an event like this was going to end up beer-free. This is Mexico, not Massachusetts… Victor has a conspiracy theory that they were holding back the booze to prevent trouble. But I don’t reckon so as the beer was warm and they obviously weren’t prepared… Anyroad… during the queueing about fifty people without tickets stormed the entrance gates chucking bottles and suchlike at the security staff and streaming into the building. There were a fair few flashes going off, but I haven’t managed to track down any pictures on the intarwebs. These things always happen when you’ve not got your camera. Maybe it’s time to upgrade my mobile phone… anyroad, it was a little hairy for a few minutes there, but all part of the colourful Mexican concert-going experience. And most of the broken glass missed me…
Back up the 6 flights of steps to the top of the bullring and the lights went down and Mr Chau and band took the stage setting the musical agenda for the evening. Live it is a very different beast. Studio albums rely on carefully crafted editing and samples whereas live it’s an all-out ska-fest. Even gentler numbers got the Dreadzone-at-Ashton-Court treatment, which is all well and good if you’re in the moshpit at the front, but less so for a sedate 31-year-old married bloke sitting comfortably far from the speakers. The energy from the mosh pit and crowd surfers soon worked its way around the crowd and despite the lack of booze I found myself risking my neck by jumping around on the precarious seating. The sound system left a fair bit to be desired and it was hard to hear what the between-songs patter was all about. Something about democracy. I’m guessing he thinks it’s a good thing, but we’ll never know… They played for more than two hours which is fantastic value and it was great to watch the crowd getting more anarchic and the security guards slowly edging away in growing terror. So despite major logistical problems as a spectacle it was great, far better than my last Mexican concert (Oasis in el D.F. in 1998) where everyone behaved far too normally.
Lessons learnt:
Ticketmaster won’t accept foreign credit cards. The pendejos.
If you go to a concert to jump around, you’ll be needing tickets at the front.
It never hurts to bring a hip-flask of tequila and a camera phone.
If you’re going just to hear albums recreated on stage, you’re better off going to the offy, and listening at home with the volume at 11.
If you can’t get tickets, find 50 other fans in the same position and riot.
If you’re after a socio-cultural spectacular with a superlative soundtrack, Manu Chao in a bullring fits the bill nicely.
Another expat’s reviewed the gig here . And even has a camera phone photo of the bullring… Tell him I sent you 🙂
We’re busy packing up stuff for tomorrow’s epic journey but not too busy to scan in this leaflet from Prague’s Museum of Communism. They’re a little down on it to be honest… Anyroad, if you look at the location of the place at the bottom, it’s ‘upstairs from McDonalds, Next to the Casino’. We made it to the casino, but we weren’t up for the McGhoulash Happy Meal.
