Crowded salary men turned their black heads to watch three freaks enter the meat restaurant.
"I've been thinking of eating this shit for two months, " said the mo-hawked freak in a broken but honorable attempt to speak the natives' language.
"You can't bring that wine in here," said the unfortunate waitress.
The freaks knew how to handle this situation.
"No wine?" "Ok," and they began to undress themselves promptly, foolishly, starting with their belts.
"Is this what people outside of this safe, hermetic country really do," questioned the waitress. "Ok, ok, wine, ok," she stammered in a dialect simple enough for the freaks to understand.
CONFLICT- RESOLVED!
They packed their swollen bellies tight and walked the rain soaked, neon streets. "So nice to HAVE to walk," thought the recently-returned freak. They walked to nowhere slowly as the natives gawked. Some dropped their jaws and released a drawn-out "wow," and others, usually older, couldn't hide their disgust at the sight of three, happy, comfortable and strange freaks among them. "Like monkeys in the zoo, we are," commented one freak. Still, they enjoyed being constantly on stage and hadn't gotten used to it in the years here.
ROCKSTAR COMPLEX- SATISFIED!
"I want to show you something," said the biggest, oldest freak. They took the elevator to the top floor of a gigantic, trendy shopping mall. They got out at the cinema (they're always on the top floor) and climbed stairs to the roof. Up there, they were alone, nobody would stare. Up there, they could, figuratively speaking, 'let their hair down.' Below were clusters of un-planned city development. 4 million black-haired natives nestled within the mountains. The biggest freak mixed drinks. Beer and orange juice- his latest eccentricity.
"How long can we hide in this strange place?" and "Can we ever return home for good?" These are the questions they discussed between gulps and puffs. They had three much different homes but all three were more similar than their current dwelling.
"No, there's too much to explore in this bizarre, brilliant, blasphemous world," said one.
"No, I'd feel ungrateful if I didn't take advantage of this golden ticket (his native tongue) and keep going," said another.
"No, they've been too kind (despite the disgusted stares) to leave," said the last.
It was decided, they'd stay.
FUTURE- POSTPONED!
They snuck into the movie theatre and watched 10 minutes of an action-packed representation of their homes. This, they thought, is where the natives think we come from. How fantastic, like crowded city buses tumbling over your head! They walked outside, saw three young men on scooters and each jumped on the back of one. The young natives, confused and unable to communicate with the freaks, just decided to drive them somewhere, anywhere. Sometimes that was the easiest way to deal with the strange, big-nosed freaks. And, had the natives refused a ride, the freaks would probably have started to undress foolishly. Full proof!
The next morning, the freaks would wake early and go to kindergartens to teach the natives' children, as they had tried to teach the adults, not to fear strange freaks outside this safe, hermetic world. The children would learn much quicker.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Angel Gabriel Soto de Mexico
Hola mis amigos y amigas!
As time goes by and my passport gains chapters, I'm beginning to realize that it's the people I meet along the way that makes the journey fruitful. I wish to relate my 3-day friendship with a remarkable man I met in Mexico. Angel Gabriel Soto was exactly what I wanted a real Mexican to be. He was playing his guitar under the impressive Cancun stars and singing songs in front of the Pizza Hut when we drunkenly stumbled upon him at 4am. His guitar was brutalized and barely playable but Gabriel was happy just to hold it again.
"I was married. I'n stop playin' de music man. Den my wife take everything. Now I'n playin' again."
His English was good enough to teach in Mexico but his accent was still strong enough to be charming. Gabriel explained his love of music and his secrets to happiness. His world-view was simple enough that some may view him as foolish while others see him as a genius. He was certainly one of the most genuine and content people I've met in my travels and his candidness in talking to us drunken strangers made him immediately endearing.
"Jus know mang, when I'n sad, I jus ride my boat in de Caribbean sea dn I'n feel better. I got a bed in de boat, dat's all I need mang!"
Eric Clapton couldn't make this guitar sounds pleasing but Gabriel, with his raspy, vulnerable but passionate voice, gave it his best. I started playing Green Day's "Basket Case" and Gabriel jumped off the picnic table and began clapping in appreciation. (It seems not many drunken Cancun tourists stop to play with him.) He bounced around like an 8-year old on a hotel bed and followed the song up with his now legendary line. I can still hear him say:
"Dat's a beautiful song, mang!"
He walked us around the pier and told us about his failures in life and why he's happy with his current situation. He's a tour guide and engineer for a Jungle Tour. *we realized 'jungle' isn't the right word since the tour is actually just a long, fast boat ride with a brief path through some coral reef.
After hearing him talk about his connection with the water, we knew we had to cruise with him the following day. If you look down in the pictures, you'll see that the man was a 5 foot, pot-bellied fish with a thirst for life that matched his thirst for the sacred cerveza.
He gave us an actual 'special price.' (that's a word that gets tossed around tourist spots of the world. In fact, one of my favorite things is walking into an open market and asking the natives, "Excuse me, is there a special price going on today," and watching them jump to their feet.) Gabriel took us out into the never ending ocean and quickly left the group. He took us to some natives' stand by the river and bought 'de soul'- a spicy Mexican fruit that ended up on my shirt. I enjoyed watching the ocean through his eyes. He didn't talk much and I perceived this as proof of his passion towards life on the water. He told me about his brother's adventures at sea and his life as a boat mechanic. (it seems to me that older generations are able to speak to younger ones much more honestly in other cultures. This is a reoccurring theme in my travels and it never goes unnoticed by me. Of course, I always treat elders with respect but I believe that respect is reciprocated much more in the poorer, more simplistic cultures.)
Gabriel took us out the following night and showed us his endless amount of friends in Cancun. He and I performed on the bus as well. (that's now 6 countries I've performed in! even if only a few songs on a wretched acoustic guitar.) On our last night, we stopped by his picnic table in front of Pizza Hut and sat with him as he finished his solo bottle of Whiskey. He demanded I play Pearl Jam's "Black" one more time for it and we all belted it like drunken fans. We had a schizophrenic, 5 minute goodbye of hugs and slurs and he wrote us a note. I went something like this:
"Hey guys. God Blaze you guy! Love, Angel Gabriel Soto"
(I've chosen to keep him as my lasting memory of Cancun.)
As time goes by and my passport gains chapters, I'm beginning to realize that it's the people I meet along the way that makes the journey fruitful. I wish to relate my 3-day friendship with a remarkable man I met in Mexico. Angel Gabriel Soto was exactly what I wanted a real Mexican to be. He was playing his guitar under the impressive Cancun stars and singing songs in front of the Pizza Hut when we drunkenly stumbled upon him at 4am. His guitar was brutalized and barely playable but Gabriel was happy just to hold it again.
"I was married. I'n stop playin' de music man. Den my wife take everything. Now I'n playin' again."
His English was good enough to teach in Mexico but his accent was still strong enough to be charming. Gabriel explained his love of music and his secrets to happiness. His world-view was simple enough that some may view him as foolish while others see him as a genius. He was certainly one of the most genuine and content people I've met in my travels and his candidness in talking to us drunken strangers made him immediately endearing.
"Jus know mang, when I'n sad, I jus ride my boat in de Caribbean sea dn I'n feel better. I got a bed in de boat, dat's all I need mang!"
Eric Clapton couldn't make this guitar sounds pleasing but Gabriel, with his raspy, vulnerable but passionate voice, gave it his best. I started playing Green Day's "Basket Case" and Gabriel jumped off the picnic table and began clapping in appreciation. (It seems not many drunken Cancun tourists stop to play with him.) He bounced around like an 8-year old on a hotel bed and followed the song up with his now legendary line. I can still hear him say:
"Dat's a beautiful song, mang!"
He walked us around the pier and told us about his failures in life and why he's happy with his current situation. He's a tour guide and engineer for a Jungle Tour. *we realized 'jungle' isn't the right word since the tour is actually just a long, fast boat ride with a brief path through some coral reef.
After hearing him talk about his connection with the water, we knew we had to cruise with him the following day. If you look down in the pictures, you'll see that the man was a 5 foot, pot-bellied fish with a thirst for life that matched his thirst for the sacred cerveza.
He gave us an actual 'special price.' (that's a word that gets tossed around tourist spots of the world. In fact, one of my favorite things is walking into an open market and asking the natives, "Excuse me, is there a special price going on today," and watching them jump to their feet.) Gabriel took us out into the never ending ocean and quickly left the group. He took us to some natives' stand by the river and bought 'de soul'- a spicy Mexican fruit that ended up on my shirt. I enjoyed watching the ocean through his eyes. He didn't talk much and I perceived this as proof of his passion towards life on the water. He told me about his brother's adventures at sea and his life as a boat mechanic. (it seems to me that older generations are able to speak to younger ones much more honestly in other cultures. This is a reoccurring theme in my travels and it never goes unnoticed by me. Of course, I always treat elders with respect but I believe that respect is reciprocated much more in the poorer, more simplistic cultures.)
Gabriel took us out the following night and showed us his endless amount of friends in Cancun. He and I performed on the bus as well. (that's now 6 countries I've performed in! even if only a few songs on a wretched acoustic guitar.) On our last night, we stopped by his picnic table in front of Pizza Hut and sat with him as he finished his solo bottle of Whiskey. He demanded I play Pearl Jam's "Black" one more time for it and we all belted it like drunken fans. We had a schizophrenic, 5 minute goodbye of hugs and slurs and he wrote us a note. I went something like this:
"Hey guys. God Blaze you guy! Love, Angel Gabriel Soto"
(I've chosen to keep him as my lasting memory of Cancun.)
Friday, July 20, 2007
Saturday, July 14, 2007
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