Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday, July 09, 2007
Fantastic week. No really, the last 7-10 days mark a high point for the last... while. I guess the logical place to start is the festa. Last week was the Festa de Santa Isabel. Santa Isabel has some sort of significance for Sal Rei, because our praça is the Larga Santa Isabel. Beyond that, I don't know what the deal is with that particular saint. But every year on the 4th of July, we throw a hell of a party in her honor.
Festivals in Cape Verde have a pretty special place in everyone's heart (and liver). Every municipality has their dia municipio, which is basically their biggest festival. Rabil, Estância de Baixo, and João Galego each have their own smaller festival, but the dia municipio is the really baller here. I guess this is partly because Boa Vista is technically only one conselho. Life stops totally for this festival. No businesses are open, unless your business is selling beer, or food to drunk people. The câmara spends enormous sums of money to set up a big stage, attract the best musicians they can, and make the whole town look as nice as possible. In Paúl, Natawnee tells me that they spent basically all their money on their town's festa. It attracts the most people to a place, and gives the biggest economic boost of the year. So as you can see, a festa is a phenomenon without parallel in the US, except perhaps big fairs like the Big E or the Durham Fair (oh Durham...). But even then, it's not the same. You can take a small child to the Big E. I don't think you'd want your 5 year old hanging out at this festa at 4 am. Which isn't to say that there aren't children around... But Cape Verdean children are a whole other story.
So my festa experience: In a word, drunk. If I had to throw out another word, it would be "dancing." And if I had the leeway for two more, I'd probably say "grilled chicken." Because that is what I did. I drank beer, ate grilled chicken wings, and danced my ass off. The câmara inaugurated the new palivolente (kind of an all-in-one sports complex, mostly for soccer and basketball) in town, so the music part was there. We also inaugurated two new youth centers, a new children's park, a new square (Praça dos Namorados... that's hot), some new paved roads, and a buttload of other stuff.* They also set a little shantytown on the beach, dubbed the barraca, with stalls to sell food and booze. It was only about 200 feet from the palivolente, so the whole area is just packed with people. Gil Semedo, aka the Cape Verdean Michael Jackson, and Kino Cabral, aka... no, he doesn't have a nickname. Anyway, they both played for two nights in a row, starting a bit past midnight and going until 5:30 or so. I'm not a big fan of Gil's music, to be honest, because he's pretty much straight zouk pop music, but I enjoyed his show a lot. He has really talented backup musicians (great bass player), plus the atmosphere is just so infectious that you can't not dance. Impossible. Kino was even better. I had a blast. Plus, they are both from the south, so not only did they play some funaná, but they spoke badiu. "Nhos sta sabi?!?!" (Are you all great?!?!) For reference, in sanpajud' we would say "Bocês ta sab'?!?!". We don't pronounce our final vowels. So I liked them.
I ended up pairing up with my friend Praça for most of the night. His name is Praça because he reportedly likes to just sit in the praça of João Galego and just talk to everyone who goes by. That's the kind of guy he is. In any event, we were nuts that night, sucking down beers, dancing with every girl we could find, talking to everyone, and just generally tearing shit up. We held strong until about 6 am, when he asked me if I would mind if he found a pequena to go home with. In the most able act of girl-catching I have yet witnessed, he walked up to a girl he clearly knew, said about two sentences into her ear, waved goodbye, and left. HOW DO THEY DO THIS???? He claimed the next day that he left her house after an hour and tried to find me to drink more. I was comforably passed out by then. Still, I lasted longer than a lot of people. When the music ended, I told a friend that it was time for bed, he looked at me like I was nuts. He said, "Não!!! Nu bai pa barraca!" So we went to the barraca. And the drinking continued.
I spent all day on the 4th recovering, except for an excursion with Nadia to eat more, yep, grilled chicken wings. Shon and Betty, our two close friends, made it out that night, so I spent virtually all night with them. Gil and Kino played again, only this time in reverse order. I drank too many beers and danced frenetically again, although perhaps with a smidgen less gusto than the night before. Corp´tava cansot. Right after the music, they had to catch a car back to Estância de Baixo, so they left me. I went over to the barraca and ran into Praça and another friend Nilton there. A fourth showed up, and lo and behold, the party just didn't stop. When I finally made it home with the sun up, I was probably among the last 100 people still up. Good job, Leland.
After two days of recovery, I somehow managed to have a great weekend, too. On Saturday, I chilled on the beach, did some swimming, played chess with François, hung out with the surfer crowd, and generally took it easy. At night, I went to Mazurka, per usual. I was expecting an average night there, or even a not so good night, because I was feeling a bit out of it. But somehow, I found energy. More dancing ensued, and an abnormal number of close friends of mine where all there. Plus, I got roped into dancing the passada several times. Now this is a dance I usually avoid. It's that slow zouk grind that I just can't seem to get down. But somehow, I pulled it off. I danced with a whole bunch of girls, and even got a couple compliments on my dancing! What the fuck?! It must have been a charmed night.
Before Mazurka, I bumped into one of the windsurfers, Ericson, at Pub Makena, one of my preparty bars. He informed me that Sunday would have good wind, so like a champ, I set my alarm for 9:30, hauled my ass out of bed after 4 hours of sleep, and hit the beach. By 10:30, I was on the water. Now, the wind wasn't great. But it was better than it has been: probably 12 knots or so, gusts up to 15 and change. But I took out a 6.2 sq m sail and paired it with a pretty fat board. Small boards and low wind don't mix well, at least not for a guy with only 6 months of experience. But continuing with my freakishly good week, I had a breakthrough day. I managed to pull off things I've been working on for months. I had my feet in the footstraps, harness hooked in, sail pulled low to catch every gust of wind, body way out over the water, and I flew. I rocketed around the bay for over 2 hours, and when I stopped, I didn't even want to. I was just too thirsty, plus I had already formed and torn blisters on both hands. I still haven't mastered the art of jibing (or gybing, depending on who's spelling it), which is turning the board in a fast arc, switching sides, and then flipping the sail over to face the other way. But I did make more progress with it than ever before.
So there. GREAT week.
I should probably also mention the Miss Bubista pageant of the week before as well, because... it's just worth talking about. Bubista is, by the way, how people here pronounce Boa Vista. The pageant is exactly what you would imagine. Ten girls, between 16 and 19, strutted their stuff on stage, and then the crown was announced. Obviously, they were all hot. Obviously, I felt creepy for thinking half of them were hot, because they were only 16 or 17. But the whole thing was just bizarre, in a really entertaining way. The theater was, naturally, packed to the gills with everyone in town. Guys were hooting and catcalling. Girls were hooting and catcalling. Everyone was just really into it. In between each little walk, there was a short performance, usually of music. Some were pretty good. But I've got to mention the rappers.
Now I know I have expressed my feelings on rap culture in Cape Verde. Guys like 50 Cent and Akon have managed to bring basically all that is wrong with American culture to CV, while managing to entirely leave out the positive aspects of rap (which I'm pretty sure Mos Def epitomizes - that man is a genius). And these guys really showed it. The first guy's song had a bit of English in it. And the English he used is pretty expressive of why I think 50 Cent should be drowned for bringing it over here. The chorus, repeated several times, went something like "Fuck dog, yo yo fuck, I don't give a fuck dog, yo yo fuck." I might have gotten a bit of that wrong, but I think the substance of it is clear. The second guy wasn't as bad. A bit of a poseur maybe, but not as bad as the first guy (sporting sagged jeans, a beater, and an inexplicable white towel around his neck, which I am sure he though was pretty gangsta). As soon as he took the stage, the first guy's "gang" started hassling him and hooting. Then both of their gangs started yelling at each other. And then a fight broke out. The offender turned out to be wearing a striking combination of an XXXXL pink t-shirt paired with a large pink winter hat, which I am sure he also thought was pretty god damn gangsta. I cannot express to you how pathetic the whole scene was. I must admit that Nadia and I were both bright red from laughing hysterically, basically since the first "yo fuck dog," but that doesn't mean I wasn't also at least mildly irritated at what I was witnessing. Of course, Cape Verdeans are more than welcome to choose their cultural influences; I will not presume to pretend that my ideas are better. But I think it is wretched to see what is largely a beautiful culture being ruined, all because they think that 50 Cent is really cool. A friend of mine the other day asked me if I had a gun in the US. I told him no, that I don't particularly like guns. He informed me that he thought guns were awesome and he can't wait to get one, so he can kill someone. Clearly, my friend isn't going to kill anyone. He's a really nice kid. But I think his comment illustrates what's going on.
Ok, I'm done.
*This is partly due to the fact that municipal elections are next March. The president and vereadors want to do as much good as they can, partly of course because they just want to do good in the community (I like them), but also because it reflects well on them come election time.
Festivals in Cape Verde have a pretty special place in everyone's heart (and liver). Every municipality has their dia municipio, which is basically their biggest festival. Rabil, Estância de Baixo, and João Galego each have their own smaller festival, but the dia municipio is the really baller here. I guess this is partly because Boa Vista is technically only one conselho. Life stops totally for this festival. No businesses are open, unless your business is selling beer, or food to drunk people. The câmara spends enormous sums of money to set up a big stage, attract the best musicians they can, and make the whole town look as nice as possible. In Paúl, Natawnee tells me that they spent basically all their money on their town's festa. It attracts the most people to a place, and gives the biggest economic boost of the year. So as you can see, a festa is a phenomenon without parallel in the US, except perhaps big fairs like the Big E or the Durham Fair (oh Durham...). But even then, it's not the same. You can take a small child to the Big E. I don't think you'd want your 5 year old hanging out at this festa at 4 am. Which isn't to say that there aren't children around... But Cape Verdean children are a whole other story.
So my festa experience: In a word, drunk. If I had to throw out another word, it would be "dancing." And if I had the leeway for two more, I'd probably say "grilled chicken." Because that is what I did. I drank beer, ate grilled chicken wings, and danced my ass off. The câmara inaugurated the new palivolente (kind of an all-in-one sports complex, mostly for soccer and basketball) in town, so the music part was there. We also inaugurated two new youth centers, a new children's park, a new square (Praça dos Namorados... that's hot), some new paved roads, and a buttload of other stuff.* They also set a little shantytown on the beach, dubbed the barraca, with stalls to sell food and booze. It was only about 200 feet from the palivolente, so the whole area is just packed with people. Gil Semedo, aka the Cape Verdean Michael Jackson, and Kino Cabral, aka... no, he doesn't have a nickname. Anyway, they both played for two nights in a row, starting a bit past midnight and going until 5:30 or so. I'm not a big fan of Gil's music, to be honest, because he's pretty much straight zouk pop music, but I enjoyed his show a lot. He has really talented backup musicians (great bass player), plus the atmosphere is just so infectious that you can't not dance. Impossible. Kino was even better. I had a blast. Plus, they are both from the south, so not only did they play some funaná, but they spoke badiu. "Nhos sta sabi?!?!" (Are you all great?!?!) For reference, in sanpajud' we would say "Bocês ta sab'?!?!". We don't pronounce our final vowels. So I liked them.
I ended up pairing up with my friend Praça for most of the night. His name is Praça because he reportedly likes to just sit in the praça of João Galego and just talk to everyone who goes by. That's the kind of guy he is. In any event, we were nuts that night, sucking down beers, dancing with every girl we could find, talking to everyone, and just generally tearing shit up. We held strong until about 6 am, when he asked me if I would mind if he found a pequena to go home with. In the most able act of girl-catching I have yet witnessed, he walked up to a girl he clearly knew, said about two sentences into her ear, waved goodbye, and left. HOW DO THEY DO THIS???? He claimed the next day that he left her house after an hour and tried to find me to drink more. I was comforably passed out by then. Still, I lasted longer than a lot of people. When the music ended, I told a friend that it was time for bed, he looked at me like I was nuts. He said, "Não!!! Nu bai pa barraca!" So we went to the barraca. And the drinking continued.
I spent all day on the 4th recovering, except for an excursion with Nadia to eat more, yep, grilled chicken wings. Shon and Betty, our two close friends, made it out that night, so I spent virtually all night with them. Gil and Kino played again, only this time in reverse order. I drank too many beers and danced frenetically again, although perhaps with a smidgen less gusto than the night before. Corp´tava cansot. Right after the music, they had to catch a car back to Estância de Baixo, so they left me. I went over to the barraca and ran into Praça and another friend Nilton there. A fourth showed up, and lo and behold, the party just didn't stop. When I finally made it home with the sun up, I was probably among the last 100 people still up. Good job, Leland.
After two days of recovery, I somehow managed to have a great weekend, too. On Saturday, I chilled on the beach, did some swimming, played chess with François, hung out with the surfer crowd, and generally took it easy. At night, I went to Mazurka, per usual. I was expecting an average night there, or even a not so good night, because I was feeling a bit out of it. But somehow, I found energy. More dancing ensued, and an abnormal number of close friends of mine where all there. Plus, I got roped into dancing the passada several times. Now this is a dance I usually avoid. It's that slow zouk grind that I just can't seem to get down. But somehow, I pulled it off. I danced with a whole bunch of girls, and even got a couple compliments on my dancing! What the fuck?! It must have been a charmed night.
Before Mazurka, I bumped into one of the windsurfers, Ericson, at Pub Makena, one of my preparty bars. He informed me that Sunday would have good wind, so like a champ, I set my alarm for 9:30, hauled my ass out of bed after 4 hours of sleep, and hit the beach. By 10:30, I was on the water. Now, the wind wasn't great. But it was better than it has been: probably 12 knots or so, gusts up to 15 and change. But I took out a 6.2 sq m sail and paired it with a pretty fat board. Small boards and low wind don't mix well, at least not for a guy with only 6 months of experience. But continuing with my freakishly good week, I had a breakthrough day. I managed to pull off things I've been working on for months. I had my feet in the footstraps, harness hooked in, sail pulled low to catch every gust of wind, body way out over the water, and I flew. I rocketed around the bay for over 2 hours, and when I stopped, I didn't even want to. I was just too thirsty, plus I had already formed and torn blisters on both hands. I still haven't mastered the art of jibing (or gybing, depending on who's spelling it), which is turning the board in a fast arc, switching sides, and then flipping the sail over to face the other way. But I did make more progress with it than ever before.
So there. GREAT week.
I should probably also mention the Miss Bubista pageant of the week before as well, because... it's just worth talking about. Bubista is, by the way, how people here pronounce Boa Vista. The pageant is exactly what you would imagine. Ten girls, between 16 and 19, strutted their stuff on stage, and then the crown was announced. Obviously, they were all hot. Obviously, I felt creepy for thinking half of them were hot, because they were only 16 or 17. But the whole thing was just bizarre, in a really entertaining way. The theater was, naturally, packed to the gills with everyone in town. Guys were hooting and catcalling. Girls were hooting and catcalling. Everyone was just really into it. In between each little walk, there was a short performance, usually of music. Some were pretty good. But I've got to mention the rappers.
Now I know I have expressed my feelings on rap culture in Cape Verde. Guys like 50 Cent and Akon have managed to bring basically all that is wrong with American culture to CV, while managing to entirely leave out the positive aspects of rap (which I'm pretty sure Mos Def epitomizes - that man is a genius). And these guys really showed it. The first guy's song had a bit of English in it. And the English he used is pretty expressive of why I think 50 Cent should be drowned for bringing it over here. The chorus, repeated several times, went something like "Fuck dog, yo yo fuck, I don't give a fuck dog, yo yo fuck." I might have gotten a bit of that wrong, but I think the substance of it is clear. The second guy wasn't as bad. A bit of a poseur maybe, but not as bad as the first guy (sporting sagged jeans, a beater, and an inexplicable white towel around his neck, which I am sure he though was pretty gangsta). As soon as he took the stage, the first guy's "gang" started hassling him and hooting. Then both of their gangs started yelling at each other. And then a fight broke out. The offender turned out to be wearing a striking combination of an XXXXL pink t-shirt paired with a large pink winter hat, which I am sure he also thought was pretty god damn gangsta. I cannot express to you how pathetic the whole scene was. I must admit that Nadia and I were both bright red from laughing hysterically, basically since the first "yo fuck dog," but that doesn't mean I wasn't also at least mildly irritated at what I was witnessing. Of course, Cape Verdeans are more than welcome to choose their cultural influences; I will not presume to pretend that my ideas are better. But I think it is wretched to see what is largely a beautiful culture being ruined, all because they think that 50 Cent is really cool. A friend of mine the other day asked me if I had a gun in the US. I told him no, that I don't particularly like guns. He informed me that he thought guns were awesome and he can't wait to get one, so he can kill someone. Clearly, my friend isn't going to kill anyone. He's a really nice kid. But I think his comment illustrates what's going on.
Ok, I'm done.
*This is partly due to the fact that municipal elections are next March. The president and vereadors want to do as much good as they can, partly of course because they just want to do good in the community (I like them), but also because it reflects well on them come election time.
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