A Diva dos Pés Descalços

Coming back from a week at the Cote Azur enegies get replenised and the week is more than productive: The paperwork to get my Russian working Visa gets started, the "plan" for my next cycling trip gets its first layout, I get to spend memorable moments with Bolsita, Laë decides takes her first cracks at dancing tango and a no less than fantastic concerts tries to bring it all together...


Cesaria Evora at Bourg. Seeing her appear in scene, old, fragile, receiving to help to climb the stairs into the scenario, one almost thinks of a tired Cesaria, doing concerts to help her fight economically her dark years. But the concert goes on: Petit Pays, Sodade, Angola and the people (at this point still sitting down) cannot contain themselves from getting up and start dancing and jumping. Then she smiles, tells us to calm down, introduces the group and tells us:
agora uma parte instrumentais e eu fumo um charuto
now an instrumental piece while I smoke a cigarrete

and there, in the middle of the scenario, she sits down and lights one up. One puff, two puffs. She is still the Diva. She sits back and takes a good glance at us, her public, and in that moment the aging process starts reversing. She gets up and gives us what she knows best: one more hour of her music and then a Ciao that will not be. She gets back in the scenario and tells us ok, but only two more She grabs the microphone and her voice fills the scenario, the teather, the hearts of each one of us at the concert, and the hearts of the people her music makes us think of:

Besame Mucho, como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez
quiero tenerte tan cerca,
mirarme en tus ojos
verme JHunto a ti

A tear of joy scapes from my eye, all you wonderfull people come rushing into my mind: from a living room solo concert in Budapest to the open air screaming in Spain. How wonderfull can life get!!! But she is far from being done and the beat of the Carnaval set her adieu, the microphone is down now, her dress slightly lifted to show her suffling feet at the rythmn of the drums, a quick shoulder shimmy tells us "she still has it". She departs from the scenario but not any more from our memories....
Ti Amo Cesaria!!!! Ti amo

Volví al Sur

(foto no mia)

Cae la noche y la emocion embarga. "Moins 10" me dice Flo Flo.
20:00; 20:05; 20:10.
Me pido serenidad. Mi cuerpo quieto pero mi mente desde ya baila al ritmo de un bandoneón que aun no oye pero que bien reconoce. 20:15 "Salut!"
Entramos. Un cuarto demasiado iluminado. "Una birra?" pos sí.
20:40 y la gente se impacienta: palmas, gritos y silbidos llenan un vacío demasiado pesado. Luego, tras una cortina, el inconfundible llanto de un bandoneon y la voz de la Villalonga que se levanta al cielo. El techo no la contiene, el teatro no es jaula suficiente. Su voz. Su voz me habla, me eleva, me acoje, me traslada.
Vuelvo al Sur; a montañas y quebradas; como se vuelve siempre al amor,
vuelvo a vos; a tus mares a tus playas; con mi deseo, con mi temor.
Llevo el Sur,
soy del Sur,
Sueño el Sur; como sueño tus selvas tus rios; inmensa luna, cielo al reves,
busco el Sur,
Quiero al Sur,
siento el Sur,
Te quiero Sur; como te quise en la intimidad...

El violin chilla, la guitarra declama, el bandoneón se estira hasta más no poder y en los parlantes la voz de Ernesto, de Atahualpa, las ideas de Cáceres, y en la pantalla el Chili que te recuerda:
No es chamullo, es amor...

I party with Pepe Vasquez!!!!

Of course to most of you it won't mean a thing but I could not begin to tell you how importat he's been for our afro music. He's just it...
I even shared a tear or two (couldnt quite tell you as I was cachina out that night) as I sang the Jipy Jay to the top of my lungs with two extremely beautiful girls and it was thanks to them that we managed to somehow make friends with the band (actually I know how) and get driven to the hotel where the whole group was staying, a short shower in the pool, share some words with Pepe and some more laughs with the band ...awesome... I tell you, Im not washing my hands again....


A little relax the next day at Huacachina maybe even go visit a witch or two at Cachiche, a most adorable kid told us the story but hardly anything was understandable, oh well, nice sights nonetheless. Ohhh, how pretty my country can be when it wants to....