wow

Hey all,

Just wanted to share last night with everyone; I had spent the day doing little chores, working a little bit on a paper due tomorrow, and reading. At about 7pm, I got a text from a friend asking me if I wanted to go hear some jazz and get a drink. This of course, long after I had given up on my search for good live music in Bordeaux. I remember at the beginning of September missing nights at Caffe Trieste in Berkeley, where my mom and I would go listen to Michael or some other amazing musicians whip up some seriously good stuff. Cheeseboard Pizza's trio comes to mind.

Not knowing what to expect, but excited to go hear live music, we biked down to Saint Michel, which is casually referred to as the 'immigrant' quartier; most of the locals are originally from North/West Africa. This makes for great food, and the best open air markets on Sunday mornings. We found the bar, stepping inside to find some seats. There was a trio playing; guitarist, vocals, drums. Sitting down next to the drummer, I could feel his hands slapping what looked like an ordinary wooden box, but was actually a percussion instrument. The music was a selection of music from Brazil, Peru, Chile, Argentina, Mexico, and Cuba. The singer (her voice was smooth and thick, velvet molasses) was Chilean, the guitarist was Peruvian, and at some point the drummer vaguely alluded to being from Granada, a city in the south of Spain. Little did we know, the modest, soft-spoken guitarist was actually Kiri Escobar: not a name I recognized, but one that I quickly respected.

The guitar does something to me that I can't quite explain; there's a magic in its versatility to yell, to laugh, to weep. Last night made me consider coming back to the instrument that I abandoned, soon. Long story short, last night was great; my ears were spoiled by unexpected treats from familiar sounds of far away, reminding me why I had been aching for the sounds of Los Lobos earlier in the week. I have been enamored with the Spanish language since I was a kid, picking up French in 7th grade instead of Spanish because everyone else was taking Spanish. But I had learned quite a bit from my dad and Spanish-speaking friends, and had a great time taking a couple classes at the end of high school. The sounds of the language spoken, and especially sung, soothe my ears and loosen my tongue; I feel like I'm singing every time I speak it. Perhaps I'll come back to it, but for now I'm happy with things as they are.

Fortunately, my friend April smokes. It seems that smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee are the two best ways to meet French people; being pretty doesn't hurt much, either. Unfortunately (or fortunately), I practice none of the above. And it shows! It was a couple of guys that told us just how lucky we were to have stumbled upon this bar. They also filled us in on the tidbit that the same place has jam sessions every Monday night, and that this coming Monday, the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, a trio from Chicago, would be paying Bordeaux a visit. Again, the name rang no bells, but the respect evident in the voices of my informers convinced me that this was something big. Sure enough, after doing about two seconds of research (thanks internet!) I found a wealth of reasons for going to see these guys tomorrow night. As if the fact that they play jazz and are from Chicago isn't enough.

So things are good. I was beginning to feel a bit disappointed (things didn't work out to stay in Bordeaux over the summer), and this is more than enough to bring my spirits back up. Last night was almost surreal; I'm a bit giddy just thinking about it.

Today is the host dad's birthday, so we'll be having a few guests over for dinner tonight: should be fun!

Besitos dulces y hasta pronto,
Benjamin