saturday soundtrack

I went into town this morning. It was a beautiful morning, sunny yet cool and my bike is finally good to cover the 18km to town and back. I also have the gift of music (some dear friends sent me an ipod!), and that makes so many things better. It was a quick ride into town, this is low season so the road was quiet. I passed by beautiful golden beaches and super blue ocean. The two brand new 5 star hotels – the first ‘luxury’ hotels on the coast not counting the floating ones that put into Limon – are slowly and unfortunately coming together. There are already enough SUVs in this part of the world, and while I know that change must come there are levels of change are there not? Strangely they decided to build these luxury places in Cocles (named after the cutlass sword and home to at least one shipwrecked pirate vessel). Cocles has two parts – the main surf beach and another lower key local part with the local public school, market and soccer field. This is where the hotels have gone up next door to each other in very small lots. They look very crowded, and are across the road from one of the biggest rubbish dumps this side of Puerto. I wonder how they will market the hotels, I think they will attract rich San Josians: I think 5 star hotel goers from the States would be sorely disappointed in the locality, and size of the pool. Who knows? I don’t think I’ve ever been in a 5 star hotel, what do I know.
I got into town as Los Fabulosos Cadilacs were playing – a perfect soundtrack to Puerto: latino reggae calypso regaton fusion. Real rondon. Town was quiet and clean this morning. It really is pretty, the Caribbean lapping right against town, kids of every colour boogie boarding, the odd wandering pig, the dreadlocked streetmen, the bewildered peeling tourists, the highly clothed indigenous and the barely clothed ticas. It was Saturday so farmers market was happening but it was after 9 and they were already packing up.
I bumped into a welsh friend in the internet place. She left the UK 2 years ago to travel Latin America. She came here last June and stayed, she doesn’t have plans to return home. We talked about family, lifechoices, life here. It is always nice to connect with her, her perspective has a ring of familiarity and sounds clear and stable.
I ended up having lunch in café rico. Café rico is one of those places from a novel. It’s an old ramshackle structure with cane walls almost overgrown with mango, almond and heliconias. There are books to be exchanged – the typical mix of counter culture, sustainability pamphlets, tourist guides. There are 3 enormous dogs lying around and there is a pall of hash smoke one has to fight through to get to the hole in the wall counter. Today very loud Led Zep was competing with some heavy salsa from the neighbours. Rick himself was there, a Robert Plant lookalike with a mountain of graying blond curls, surf shorts and camo vest. He was stoned and talking loudly on the phone to some counter culture friend, “hey man, to hell with the system . . . do it, just do it man, the world’s heating up, there’s no time left . . .”. At café rico one can order pot from the menu. I had a veggie burger and some really tasty fries.
It’s a small community and on my way home I waved to familiar faces: French, Californian, indigenous, tico, Jamaican, Nicaraguan. I passed a stunning group of big black women, maybe 3 generations walking along the road. Big black women talk while they walk and they talk in a group, meaning they don’t get out the way for no man, nope, not even a bus. I came round a corner and there they were, maybe 8 of them spread 2/3rds of the way across the road, kids of all ages dangling from them or following along all looking up. I saw the backs, big black shiny broad beautiful backs with dark dark hair tied up above in an incredible concoction of bright rainbow colours. They were wearing sarongs and the material clung tight to their shapes. So beautiful to see these women, so strong in themselves and in each other, such a reflection of humanity or what humanity could be, their ties to one another so easy and tight. I see their strength in their backs, the way they hold their heads, their gazes, the smiles of the younger women and the steady looks of the elder. To come round that grey rubble road and see such colour amidst the jungle green makes me catch my breath. I passed them and looked back and smiled, one of the kids waved, I know him.
Saturday soundtrack:
Elvis Crespo, ‘Pintame’
Kumbia Kings, ‘Boom Boom’
Los Fabulosos Cadilacs, ‘Calaveras y Diablitos’
Matisyahu, ‘Sea to sea’
Bob Marley, ‘Sun is Shining’
Brooklyn Funk Essentials, ‘Istanbul Twilight’
Led Zepplin, ‘Babe I’m gonna leave you’
Tupac Shakur featuring Talib Kwell, ‘Fallen Star’
Thomas Mapfumo, ‘Hansvadzi’
Ricardo Lemvo y Makina Loco, ‘La Milonga de Ricardo en Ch-cha-cha’

news

I watched the bbc world news today on television. I saw the hourly news programme. This is the first time in almost 2 years I’ve seen news on tv. I was surprised and somewhat confused by the experience. The presenters all seemed to be copying that nonchalant, nasal quirky Paxman style, (is he still on tv?), with queer head tilts, stylized hand movements and very wide mouths (for lip readers?). The inflections were as bizarre as ever with odd accents and emphasis. I know this last is deliberate to keep listeners alert, but god it sounds odd when one doesn’t hear it anywhere else. I forgot the reporters always tell you who they are. This is strange, it somehow makes the news personal, yet they are the messenger not the message, does it really matter who they are – the butcher doesn’t introduce himself before he sells you meat.
The format was strange: each report was the same length, no matter what it was about and each was too short to give any real information – it was just a string of glorified headlines – frustrating in their pace, like a laundry list of catastrophes, holidays, politics, as if it was just all fodder for who? Just a soup of pictures and words which didn’t stay on the screen long enough to make any real connection with. It disturbs me that two hours later I can’t remember what I saw, but have the general feeling it was all bad and the world is not a safe place. The earthquake in China, tornados in the US, aide not getting through to Burma, problems with the Afghanistan/Pakistan border, the successful landing in Mars (this was in a way the most disturbing as the presenter introduced the piece by saying “there is life on Mars: well the probe has landed” – did he really call the machine alive?), anti-Islamic feeling in Australia, Memorial Day in the US – each report was about 2 minutes long. I guess it’s not so much confusion as overwhelm. Perhaps it’s because I don’t see news, but I wonder if daily viewing still overwhelms but deadens or desensitizes also just leaving some washed out feeling of what, hopelessness, fear, anger? I can’t think of a single positive emotion brought about by what I saw today. The mars thing, but hell that’s a different planet, the message in the news as a whole was our planet sucks but look here’s another. Yeah my projection. Totally. This is just my observation. I’m not asking for happy clappy news, or less news. I guess I was missing the education part, the whys – why is their anti-Isalmic feeling, why are there racial tensions along the Pakistani border, what’s happening with the weather and what is being done, what part can I play in this, where is my participation? Maybe it’s the passivity with which one receives the news that could be changed to make it a catalyst for change or action, instead of just silage.

Oz
There was one quote I can’t shake. It was a woman in the anti-Islamic piece. A small town outside Sydney was protesting against a proposed school for Muslims. (How did this make it to the world news, who decides what to include? Surely there must be all sorts of protests against all sorts of things, organizations and people in the world, why does this warrant coverage?). I was struck in the footage by how white everyone was, not a single shade of colour. The people were angry and coarse. One woman was saying, “keep Oz for the Aussies”.
What did she mean by that? Define Aussie. Couldn’t be she was meaning the Aborigines. Surely anyone born in Australia is an Aussie? The reporter mentioned there were 150 Muslim families in the community, none were interviewed. Obviously in a 2 minute report there’s only time for one viewpoint.
Oddly enough this piece came directly after the piece on Taliban strongholds in Pakistan. I wonder if that’s significant?