a weekend with good friends - part II

A funny thing happened on my way to the Forum...
(okay, I was headed to Harry's, lol)

So, there I was, minding my own business, headed down to Harry's to watch the last two sets of a new band (to me) called Bee-Groove. They were a funk-style band that was fronted by the wife of my friend & coworker Fabien who is the head of Engineering at the facility I work at. Her name is Lixia and they hail both from Paris, home of great funk bands! ....well, maybe it is(?) lol

She formed-up this band with some of the local pros and have developed quite a reputation as a fun show to catch - so I planned on seeing them at long last.

However, my best-laid plans were halted at the edge of the plaza entrance by some recent and not-so recent acquaintances, Miguel, Javier and his brother who was in town for the holiday weekend from Chihuahua.

They basically collared me before I could even enter Harry's and we were off...!

(obviously I was not struggling)

After a quick stop at the convenience store en-route to pick up two bottles of 'the Captain' and cokes, we headed over to what was a party already in full swing. It was hosted by a fellow who is widely-known as 'El Quixote" as he makes his living impersonating the famed literary character, armor included. His metal breastplate has a slight modernization in that it includes a three inch slot cut into it with a 'gracias' written in sharpie just below it, (yes, exactly - it's for tips!).

The form of entertainment was called 'trios' and it consists of three talented and very rehearsed fellows playing traditional romantic songs, singing in harmony, while the entire room sings along.

As we entered the room and made our way to a table reserved in the corner, the leader of the trio announced, what I think was, the title that Javier held, along with leading the crowd in a 'three cheers' to him. He replied with a nonchalant wave to everyone and quickly sat down.

I thought, "who is this guy anyway...?"

After the three finished their hour-long set, we were treated to a short slide show of a famous since-passed fellow musician, whom I found out later that the party was actually held in honor of.

here's a not-so-professional video I shot of the event.
it's just a quick pan, but it gives an idea of what it was like:

After that, ladies were brought up to the front to sing their personal favorites, which instead of turning into a karaoke-esque fiasco, turned out to be something quite elegant and one lady's rendition of a bolero called "El Pastor" left no one present with a dry eye, much in the way Tania Libertad was famous for.

Btw, go to YouTube and search for that song; there are several beautiful recordings.

here's one of Tania; it will put you into the mood of the event:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8Jm4ITptjM

(btw, the video portion is not so great but the audio is worth it!)

It was a beautiful way to spend an evening, however it was far from over.

Front-row treatment t the hottest spot in town

We left the party with the bulk of the attendees and as we literally stumbled along the cobblestone streets of Queretaro, I was informed that we were headed to another place called 'La Mulata' which was a club here in town that I had yet to see, but always wanted to. The name translated is that of a dark-skinned woman, which denotes sexiness, I imagine.

Arriving at the entrance, we were met with the usual bulldog-like reception of bouncers demanding 'entrada', which in this case was 50 pesos (around $5) each. Javier, who as I said, I knew as a local politician with a few connections, met the head bouncer and after chatting with him all of ten seconds, we were not only in for free, but were led into the place, which was as spacious as a warehouse and completely packed with at least 700 people, perhaps 1000(?).

After walking nearly a full two minutes, winding our way through the darkened aisle ways lit with the occasional flash of the overhead lasers and camera flashes, we were led to a table that was right in front of, and at the center of. the massive stage. We were in arguably THE best table in the place!

The once passing thought was now a full-blown nagging feeling as I thought, "just who the heck is this guy anyway...?!!"

And so the night continued, the party raged and the band came onto the stage to re-claim it from the DJ plying his usual wares of trendy hip hop, etc, that is common now the world over.

To call this place a nightclub, however, would certainly be a misrepresentation, as it was one of the largest indoor areas I've seen since I arrived here, more comparable to a High School Gymnasium. This is an important point for what happens later in the evening - well, morning...

A Cat with a way-kewl axe

So in travels I usually try to chat with the band and compare notes, especially with the bass players that I meet. This fellow caught my attention when he pulled-out a 'Factor' bass, which is a really cutting-edge looking machine by Philip Kubicki, and his was even a five string, which I had never seen before. I remember back in the late 80's when these were popularized by cats like Stu Hamm & Jon Taylor from Duran-Duran, and they were all of the rage until they almost literally disappeared 10 years later, at least to me. Looking on the Internet, they can still be had, but this guy's factor5 is truly a rarity - a way-kewl axe indeed.

Chatting with other players and some research on the net show that Kubicki is still making basses, but finding one seems to be a bit difficult for folks like me. Perhaps some day when I'm playing that lousy 80's cover band, I'll be sporting the flock of seagulls hairdo and slapping my own Factors - ah, to dream, but I digress... haha

A somewhat-normal occurrence, at least for me, unfortunately
(or how to really screw-up a really great evening by being a dumb s**t)
 

So eventually I make my way back to our table in center/front and the whole place is going crazy as the band proceeds into a 30 minute medley of dance tunes from the 70's, 80's, 90's, along with a heavy dose of hip-hop driving the set. It was definitely well-rehearsed, quite incredible and nobody was able to resist dancing - the entire area in front of the stage was on the verge of being a mosh pit, (but a fun one).

So I reached for my wallet ready to help pay for the tab, and then it struck me - gone! I checked every pocket, nothing. All around the floor in the immediate area, nope. I think the color left me face as I realized that I was in a foreign country with no credit cards, no means of getting money, and the only ID I had was my passport book. Doing a quick calculation, I figured that I needed a minimum of $500 USD to get a plane ticket back to Phoenix, or at least half that to drive to Texas, either of which I had nothing to use - shit!

Selling one of bass guitars was about my only other option, but that would have really sucked as it took a lot of time & money to acquire them. Of course I was a bit inebriated with the good rum all night, so my thinking was not entirely clear, but I did at least grasp the weight of my predicament - get looking for it was my immediate decision (I know, duh!).

I checked around with a few places I had chatted with the band, etc, but nothing was there. Back at the table, my friends were equally worried for me and offered to pick up my part of the tab. Nice, but also a bit necessary, as I had not two pesos to rub together! Heading out of the club, I was feeling pretty bummed, but Javier told me to wait a moment while he told the club manager about my loss. The manager motioned for me to follow him back into the club. After another couple of minutes of winding our way back to the other end, we came to a bar that was located there where he asked a lady working there about finding anything.

Lifting up the cash register entirely, she held out my wallet and said "solamente esto" (only this). I think I did a moonwalk as I found that everything was in it including my debit card & identification, life was good again! Javier was officially my favorite person at that point, lol.

So just who is this guy...?

On the way home we made our way over to the atm as I insisted on paying them back my share of the tab, which was not really a lot to me, but I know that wages here are roughly a third of the States. As we strolled the cobblestone streets, admiring the older colonial-era mansions of the central district, we passed through the plaza in the middle of the government offices, which once served as the seat of government when Queretaro was Capital of Mexico, long ago when it was the crown of the Spanish empire.

As we passed a particularly elegant edificio (building) from the 1700's with a huge bronze plaque on it that read, something to the effect of, State Governor's Office. Javier non-nonchalantly pointed to it saying, "That's my office."

Inquiring about it later that week with my friends down at Harry's I found out that he's the representative for Queretaro for that office. in the US we would refer to him as, basically, the Lieutenant Governor.

...Okay, I wasn't expecting that one, either!

f

Day of the Dead and a big, steaming bowl of VUDU' CHILE

Living in a new country is to experience constant personal growth & development on a nearly daily basis
(...thus constantly having to admit that one's previous ideas were wrong!)
When I first started planning the trip down here, I made the assumption that in Mexico I would probably not get an opportunity to celebrate the holidays here, as I probably wouldn't be close to anyone enough to do so. Had I known the culture was so welcoming, that would not have been a consideration. Further, having lived in Arizona for so many years, I thought that this time of the year was relatively quiet in Mexico - I was wrong again.


In Arizona, the Mexicanos there tend to, based on my recent experience here, tone-down the day known as "Dia de los Muertos" which translates into day-of-the-dead. It's steeped in the Latin American Catholic tradition with the days before it serving to build into a culmination that is to most here, a nationally-recognized holiday that is only neo-religious; I call it that as it seems to have transcended the mere religiosity of Catholicism (but it dates back much further, btw). It now has become to the people of central Mexico a time of gathering with one's family and remembrance of one's ancestors with trips to the cemetery and even creating a place in their home for those remembered to re-join the family, have some food, a drink and even have a cigar. As Santa's cookies and milk magically disappear, so does the food, tequila and the fine cigars.

Similar traditions have existed throughout the history of early civilization and even pre-civilization, and what I have witnessed these last few days certainly hearkens back to this building block of what would become religious philosophy concerning what happened to the 'person' inside this shell we call mortality. But I digress..

'Dia de los Meurtos' falls during the holiday season that much of the western world celebrates as Halloween; the days of the holiday go (something) like this:

Oct 30: Devils Night
Oct 31: All-hallows Eve (Halloween)
Nov 1: All Saints Day
Nov 2: Dia de los Muertos



Swimming with the current
(...or how to survive living one block away from a massive party that lasts an entire week!)
I knew living down here in Centro was going to be difficult now and then, especially considering I would be trying to park a truck the size of a battleship on streets centuries old (and narrow to boot) - and within the vicinity of several large Catholic churches. For the uninitiated, these serve as cultural gathering/rallying points for a myriad of festivals, and of course, the plaza in front of the Gran Hotel/Harry's - my second home here, is Ground-Zero.

At the beginning of last week as I sat out at my usual perch tapping away on this laptop-thingy, several trucks began unloading what looked to be staging equipment. As soon as the lights were unpacked, it confirmed my guess. The scale, however, was far beyond anything that I would have even ventured, as it took up much of the far end of the central plaza, soon afterward massive tents were erected covering the balance of the open space, turning the whole view brilliant white as sunlight hit the canvas in the afternoon din. It was a harbinger of the week ahead and I had no idea of the crazy train headed my way...

The next late afternoon, as I headed back from work (we usually break about 6-ish) the traffic was even worse than usual, believe it or not, lol. Actually, compared to Miami, this place is a cake-walk, and that doesn't even include the one-fingered waves one receives on your morning commute through Hileah - with Alabama tags. Don't get me wrong, Miami is a cool town; I just don't miss that drive.

So I gave up looking for parking after 30 mins of the stop-and-go gaggle f**k of cars and paid the lady at the Estacionarse Publico (parking lot) to keep an eye on things for about 16 pesos/hour. Making my way down to have my usual 7-Anos Havana Club Rum & CocaCola Light was like running the weekend gauntlet - but it was only Wednesday! I found a spot at Harry's way in the back, as people were literally spilling over both sides of the railing; had I not been good friends with the staff, I would probably STILL be waiting for a seat, haha.

The stage out front was a parade of Mexican music and cultural acts that ranged from ultra-modern to several from indigenous tribes chanting incantations that have endured more than a thousand years. When they do this en masse, the trance effect is breathtaking; I witnessed probably several hundred people throughout the square, dressed in everything from Gucci to loin cloths dancing in rhythm with the drums' hypnotic pulse.

The rest of the week, once I learned when was the right time to look for a parking spot, was amazing. The acts that graced the stage increased in talent and apparently, in notoriety also, including a presentation by the Governor of the state one evening.


Meanwhile, in a sleepy little town nearby
My friends who play in the band Vudu' Chile that, on occasion, let me wreck a couple of songs by sitting-in with them, insisted that I attend a gathering that they were hosting in San Miguel de Allende. Turns out that the ex-pat community up there does Halloween in a big way, throwing a terrific costume party with hand-crafted beer and the best $1 margaritas I've ever had, (and that's not just because I had... shit, I can't remember how many, actually, lol), but we'll get to that in a bit.

So my usual costume for such events is Jake Blues (the Blues Brothers) which is a simple yet functional getup, especially if one is going to play bass that evening (i.e. nothing to get in the way of the guitar, etc). A simple assembling of ray ban wayfarers, a mini-fedora, a thin tie and a black suit with white shirt, set-off with white socks, of course. I have probably enough versions of this basic ensemble in my closet to clothe both Jake AND Elwood, plus Mr. Fabulous and even the 'Duck', but it never occurred to me that I might need any of it in such a "remote" part of the world - I was wrong yet again.

















60's Retro in a land that remembers it's past, not yours!
(...or the search for outdated shades, a funny tie and a weird-looking hat)
Walking through the mercados here in town, I noticed that several impromptu costume shops had a costume version of the fedora that Michael Jackson made famous. "I know that hat..!" was the eureka-moment that was the impetus for the next day's quest, complete with Knights with outrageous French accents hurling livestock at me! (actually, it was even more fun than that..)

I immediately bought a small stack of the hats from the gent running the tiende (shop) as they were only $3 each and 'the lads' may need a last-minute costume for their gig. I figured that I would find something better, but just in case I had a 'plan B' in place so I kept one when I gave the balance to my friend David, the singer of Vudu' Chile.

After another 30 mins of walking, it was obvious that I need some professional help with this one. I flagged-down what turned out to be one of the kewlest cabbies in town and we went shopping! With all of my trudging about town, within 10 mins he took me to one of the biggest Mercados I had ever seen, packed with more items for sale than I had thought possible and people also packed into such a small space, reminiscent of the Egyptian Bazaars. It was an awesome experience, especially with my cabbie as my guide/translator. We found three hat shops straightaway and a few were close with their versions of the infamous fedora, but alas, no 'tobacco' (cigar). What a great place, however , and now I have THE spot to go in Queretaro (Qro. is its abbreviation) for pretty much anything except for plasma screen TV's; they have everything else. I could have driven around this town for weeks and never had found this hidden place; hopefully I can find it again(?).

Btw, it turns out, Mexico is NOT the place to save money, that is, if you are looking for non-Mexican items. Often Mexicans will pay a 20% to 50% higher price than that of the US, and sometimes much, much more. One of the principal items in such a costume is the now-classic, Ray Ban Wayfarer sunglasses (called 'lentes; in Spanish). There are several versions of these coming in a myriad of colors, but Ackroyd wore the standard all-black & Belushi wore the tortoise framed browns, those being the most rare to locate in my experience. I found some imitations for sale, but they were basically the kids' version and didn't fit my big ol' noggin.

During my escapade with my new cabbie friend, he took me to several "tiendas optica" high-end eyeglass & sunglass shops that carried Wayfarers, and they did carry the all-black version. What I thought was a direct hit turned into a dud - the going rate for a set of these at a nice shop in a mall in the US is about $100. These places apparently cater to the upper classes of Mexico City and not tourist Gringos, so to offer them is a status symbol in itself. They were charging, after converting to dollars, more than $250 for the same set of glasses. As the blood went to my feet, I did an about-face and considering abandoning this whole endeavor completely.

Despondent and in shock, I hopped back in the cab and asked my friend to take me back to Centro so I could get a quick bite and re-think this scheme. We arrived at the plaza in front of Harry's and I was charged $16 for an entire afternoon of driving. Just before we parted, the cabbie suggested one more shop for me to try, that being the one he dropped me of in front of.

Not getting my hopes up I entered the shop (a regular eyeglass/optometry shop, it turns out). There on the end of the display sat not just any of the versions, but the exact ones Belushi wore, which I had pretty much abandoned searching for in the US - here in Qro less than two blocks away from my apartment! Holding my breath, I asked what the price was and... we had a bingo! I had finally found a set of these and in of all places, who'd a thunk?!

Okay, the last time we needed a set of the narrow-styled black ties for the band in Alabama, we actually had to make them ourselves as it's just not a common design, at least nowadays. Here in Mx, I figured that I would have to buy a standard and have it altered, or something in that direction. When I went to the tux rental place to see about renting the black suit required, they not only had a perfect match for the suit & white shirt, but they even had THAT tie... son-of-a-gun, I was locked and loaded.





Tofu tacos 'to die for' and a few too many margaritas
Arriving at the Club de Leonnes (Lion's Club) San Miguel, with the help of a cab who led me and my LR through the many winding streets of the historic district, one could see that it was going to be fun. In costume, sans shades, I entered the club and immediately a large fellow, who I found out later was the association president, loudly protested, "Who let the Feds in?!" Laughing, I reached for the shades and donned them, to the cheers of several people there at the entrance. Apparently I was not the only one to choose that guise as a lady said, "they've been waiting for you!" (who, me?!)

The association was the San Miguel Vegetarian Society, or something like that. They promote organic food production and sell it at a local market where many of the Americanos shop for such items. The group had included a big spread of food to go with the event and the salsas were particularly good, in a country that is famous for its salsas, btw.

I entered the main hall and up on the stage were "the lads" of Vudu' Chile, all wearing the hats and doing their best impressions of that infamous band that wrecked half of the Chicago Police force's squad cars. I was greeted by David with a a booming, "Welcome fellow Blues Brother!" in the middle of Julian's terrific guitar solo, and the crowd sounded their approval - it was to be a good night indeed.

Apparently there were a lot of single ladies in attendance that evening as I had to fight them off with a stick (yaaaay! lol). To pick a favorite seemed at the time at least, like bad manners as I was new to this group. Just then I noticed two older "young ladies" were out in the middle of the floor having a blast; they became my dance partners for most of the remainder of the evening. The two ol' gals probably were pushing 60, (if not pulling it a bit), but they were more energetic than most in their 30's - I was worn-out after just a few songs!

During a trip to the men's room I remember walking in and being frozen in my tracks as I caught my image in the mirror: it was almost scary how I'm looking more and more like Belushi's 'Jake" every year (so is that a good thing... or really bad?!), lol.





Later that evening Javier the bass player invited me up to play a couple of songs. Of course I was not in any shape to do so, however he insisted so I stumbled onto the stage, kicked over some one's beer and proceeded to play along with one of the funkiest versions of Suzie-Q that I can remember. It was one of the best Halloween parties that I've ever attended.


Dirty Martinis with Cultural Icons
The last day of the Festival in Qro. was completely incredible, and I had no idea what I was watching until it was over, in most cases. Harry's not only was packed, it had a table in front marked "Reserved" for a VIP that was expected soon. Apparently it was someone with clout as they were able to keep a table empty for that long in a mobbed nightclub in the teeth of such a party. "Who the heck can do that?", I thought. Turns out, it was the semi-illusive owner of Harry's, an 'Americano' who's name is....

nope, it's Bob.

Bob is one of these Am. ex-pats who went to Mexico to make his fortune and apparently he has done this in spades. He is said to own houses in San Miguel, where there is another Harry's, and Cabo San Lucas, where he'll probably put another one some day soon. At his table that evening, once he arrived, was seated several friends and what looked to be a few 'hangers-on" as would be expected with a guy with some money, in any part of the world.

I waited inside the bar working on my laptop, as it was the only place that I could find and I had a few web design pages to finish for Gigbag. Happily tapping away, Bob, whom I had never met prior, walks up and loudly proclaims to the whole bar, "you're looking at porn while Tania Libertad is about to perform in a few minutes?!" Par for the course, I guess, but I was hoping for more from someone of his ilk - and who the heck was Tania Libertad?

I was on the list for a table out front to see the music, but I was not going to get my hopes up. However, just as I was about to resign myself to only hearing the show and not seeing it, the lead hostess appeared told me that a couple had just vacated what was, my favorite table and asked if I wanted it? It was probably like watching Wyle E Coyote disappearing with papers and dust flying where he had once stood - I bounded to, and took my place at one of the best places to view the show. A Vodka Dirty Martini was ordered immediately to celebrate my good fortune but alas, it would have been even better had someone been there to share it with.

The headliner for that evening, which was to be the closing act for the entire festival, was lady known throughout the Latin world as "Tania Libertad", who I had never heard of, let alone seen play a show. It was explained to me that she is similar in reputation to that of possibly, Joan Biez would be in the US, as she is not interested in commercial success. However, that is probably where the comparison would end as she is a classically trained mezzo-soprano with an amazing range that is also quite powerful. She was born in Peru and has a huge following here in Mx, along with much of the rest of the hemisphere. She travels with a quartet of musicians all of great talent and they perform a list of songs that are steeped in the history and tradition of Central & South America, as it was explained to me.



I remember catching myself with a tear rolling down one cheek, thinking that I have no idea what she's singing, but the emotion she is able to communicate and instill was inescapable - or was it just me? Looking around the mass of people I saw very large, football player-sized men openly weeping. The elderly couple next to me was holding each other closely while the woman wiped the tears from her gent's face; a very touching and beautiful scene to watch.

After the show was over, the plaza slowly emptied and I worked a bit more on Gigbag pages while also working on another martini. I watched the cleaning crews and roadies work their magic for a couple hours as they re-claimed the plaza, slowly restoring it to its former state a week prior. As Harry's also slowly emptied, the folks remaining consisted of most of its regulars, myself included.

Suddenly, a buzz took over the hotel lobby, which adjoins the entrance to Harry's, as some of the security chaps cleared the area and a petite Tania Libertad arrived right behind them, a small entourage trailing her. I found out later that Bob had summoned her through the Hotel staff to come down and have dinner with his friends and him. As she made her way through the place, she was hugged, kissed, photographed and just generally adored by the patrons of the restaurant, all the while patiently greeting the next person in the small throng along her route to the back where Bob waited. As it passed my humble little table she even wished me a good evening, which was, I guess not surprising in this very warm and friendly culture. Had this happened up north, security probably would have tackled and dragged off to ensure their celebrity didn't have to see any of the riff-raff.

The buzz died down and they dined for another hour and I tapped-away, revising a few more pages of Gigbag. I could hear the laughing of the large table of the two entourages getting louder as the evening wore on and the alcohol flowed, Bob the host usually being above the others. Bob had a reputation among the patrons of Harry's as a fun person who tended to, shall we say, imbibe freely.

Suddenly, (there seemed to be a lot of those that evening...) I hear Bob loudly call out from the restaurant to his staff, "Let's hear some Michael Jackson!" Within a few seconds the mellow jazz on the house system was replaced with, at almost full volume, 'Billie Jean'. The group arose with Tania in the lead and she marched toward the front in-time with the music, smiling and waving to everyone, her long flowing gown and entourage behind her, similar to the way a professional wrestler would exit the arena after having defeated their foe.

A fun & surreal ending to a wonderfully surprising evening.

fs