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Vegas
This post is coming after quite a hiatus, I realize, but I am back, this time with photos as evidence! Since my last post about le cirque, I took my first American road trip. Yes it’s true, I’ve been to more countries than I can count, but I had hardly seen any of my own. Albeit brief, my road trip with Carly and her parents, from Boulder through Vegas and Yosemite, to Los Angeles ( with a lovely interlude in Ojai at Geneveive’s) was, to say the least, quite a ride. In only a week I saw mountains, canyons, casino’s, a valley, and the ocean. Highlights include Yosemite National Park, The Getty Museum, and Venice Beach- where photo opps abound. Thanks to Carly, Tracy and Howard Blitz for inviting me, and For Genevieve Waltcher and Paddy for hosting me in Ojai. My domestic dip into the states has given me quite a thirst for more. Surprise surprise!
For a nation that has troops stationed all over the world, it seems like the USA is really missing out on some truly enriching international culture. Let’s start with music, for example. As it is we hardly get any international music on major radio stations, while European stations play American music along with Arabic music and multilingual European hits. Huge cineplexes all over Europe play Hollywood films, but if Americans want to see an international film we have to first, be considered a “film person”, and second, find the one independent theatre that is playing our selection, IF we are lucky enough to live in Manhattan, or a city like it where there even ARE independent theatres.
Which brings me to my most urgent and burning question of the moment: Why doesn’t the US love soccer like the rest of the world? Why can’t we just join the global community and participate in this one multicultural activity, as opposed to isolating ourselves even further from the rest of the world both culturally and socially?
I never played sports in high school. I didn’t actually give a crap about sports. I didn’t really see myself going to a “football school” where the social scene revolved around the big games. My high school boyfriend played hockey, which I did enjoy watching from time to time- it was so fast (!) and when the team was playing well they were really fun to watch. I even watched a few games on TV when I was on vacation snowboarding in Canada, where they were of course showing hockey on almost every channel. But even hockey didn’t really get me hooked. The teams didn’t draw me in to them, something about the sport just wasn’t compelling enough.
It wasn’t until I found myself in Germany during the 2006 World Cup that I felt really moved by a sport. Of course, the energy was amazing in Munich at that time, and it would have been hard not to feel the thrill of it all. I was traveling with my friend Genevieve, and she and I watched almost every game in the Fanpark which hosted something like 10,000 people who couldn’t afford tickets to the real game. I couldn’t help but feel a kind of solidarity with the other fans, even those of different teams (I had come to really love watching the German team succeed, and really put my all into rooting for them). Then it dawned on me, this was the WORLD championship. Bigger than school pride, bigger than state pride, even bigger than national pride (If your country loses you don’t just STOP watching). The WHOLE world! Soccer is just on a totally different scale. What’s more, the sports’ supporters don’t necessarily fall into the category of “sports fans”, because EVERYONE watches.
For this years Eurocup, I have watched most games in a bar in Kempten, Germany, and when I arrived late yesterday for the (pathetic) Germany/Austria game, not a sole was to be seen on the street. In the usually bustling city square, I could hear the rain pattering on the trees. This is because I was late for something that every person in Kempten, German or Austrian or Turkish or Croatian, had arrived on time for (in typical German fashion, no less) - the cultural bonding experience that almost every European takes part in: Soccer.
As I anxiously await tonight’s game, (my 2nd favorite team and my bet for champion), Netherlands, against Romania, a part of me is sad that in just a few days I will be leaving Europe. No doubt I can find a bar lined with a couple creepers in Manhattan where I can watch the games in the middle of the day, but would I even want to?
No. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t! It’s just not the same. It would be lonely. Because unlike the rest of the world… Americans don’t love soccer.
This is a picture of the type of scorpion that stung me while I was camel trekking in the Sahara. Its nickname is “The Death Stalker” because it is one of the most dangerous scorpions in the world, responsible for several deaths each year (but not mine!) Its name however, and most westerners’ general knowledge of scorpions, lead us to believe that they are aggressive killing monsters, which in fact, they are not. Don’t get me wrong, I am definitely not a bug person- especially not arachnids, having seen my fair share of terrifying spiders in India, Thailand, and Cambodia. After surviving the sting however, I’ve kind of developed a mild obsession with the Leiurus, my scorpion. It’s weird and totally creepy, I know, but after the overwhelming intensity of the pain and emotions I experienced, and then coming out of it all perfectly unscathed, I just became fascinated with the scorpion, both myth and reality.
The whole episode was so terrifying, in part, because I had no knowledge of the various kinds of scorpions and how dangerous or not dangerous they could be. The only thing I knew about scorpions was what I saw in movies, which of course led me to believe the worst. Feeling the poison climbing up my leg and spreading unbearable burning fire into my pelvis didn’t help much, either. Coming to the realization that I might die on the 2 hour ride out of the desert; on a camel, in the middle of the night, singing Cat Stevens lyrics to try and calm myself down because they were the only lyrics I could recall at the moment even though I know hundreds of songs form start to finish, remembering when my dad used to dance with me as a child to those very songs … I was pretty convinced that it would be my last night. I don’t know if it was the pain, or the distance from civilization, or not having any of my family near that scared me more, but if I had known anything about scorpions and the statistics of mortality, I know it would have been a whole different story.
The truth of the matter is, I was never in danger of dying. The deaths that do occur are mostly in young children, weak elderly people, or people who have allergic reactions to the venom- like a bee sting allergy. In the peak of my physical condition, it would have been an anomaly for me to have died from that sting. When I finally got to the hospital, 2 hours later, all the doctor gave me was a Novocaine shot, which did nothing. I did however, receive reassurance that I would indeed live, although the pain would last exactly 24 hours (which it did, to the minute).
On May 11th while I was traveling in Spain, I had the opportunity to see the Compania Nacional de Danza 2 perform new choreography by artistic director, Nacho Duato. GNAWA, which opened the show, was stunning. I don’t read Spanish well, so I couldn’t understand the description of the piece until I had a chance to look it up, but I was immediately intrigued by the choice of music, something I’d never heard before: a mix of African drum rhythms and almost flamenco sounding vocals. What a great choice, I thought, to mix this clearly contemporary ballet movement with such nontraditional music! I wanted to find out more about these jams, but that would have to wait.
GNAWA began with a community of dancers walking onto a dark stage holding votive candles and setting them down in a sort of homage or ritual. The dance proceeded to move seamlessly from group sections to duets, with an emphasis on partnering throughout the entire dance. The partnering in Duato’s duets is so fluid and sensual that there were moments when I wondered if it was really two people moving, or one viscous mass being pushed along through space and molded by some outside force. In between partnering sections the tone of the group choreography was strong and connected, an interdependent web (see above image). The dance left an impression on me, obviously. I love the choreography of Duato’s that I’ve seen before (even if some of it starts to blur together after a few pieces), but this dance was especially awesome, and the choice of music had a lot to do with it.
Two weeks later, when I took the ferry from Tarifa to Tangier, Morocco, I found out what GNAWA really is. In Northern Africa, Gnawa is traditionally a word used to describe various mystic Muslim brotherhoods who are known to use music and dance to reach altered states, or ecstasy. I also found this translated description of the dance on the CND2 website:
“In Gnawa, premiered by the Hubbard Street Dance Chicago in 2005, the renowned choreographer has continued along the path he set out on with Mediterrania, seeking to transmit, through the medium of movement, the sensuality of the landscape, the true nature of its peoples. With a suggestive musical score replete with Spanish and North African sounds, Gnawa captivates its audience through its all-encompassing power and its sensual elegance, combining the spirituality and organic rhythm of the Mediterranean.”
Now, Gnawa commonly refers to the genre of music played both ritually and popularly in the Magreb. Actually, it has become so popular that twice a year there are huge Gnawa festivals in Morocco attended by international crowds, and Gnawa cd’s are sold by street vendors in every Moroccan city. If you happen to be traveling in Morocco this June (apparently tourism in Morocco is rapidly increasing), you should definitely take the 3 hour bus ride from Marrakech to Essaouira where the beachside festival happens every year. As my friend Tamer, from a little leather shoe shop in Essaouira told me excitedly as we heard music blasting from a stall down the street, “quand tu ecoutes Gnawa, tu ne peut pas arreter la danse!” (when you hear Gnawa, you can’t stop the dance!) Nacho Duato obviously felt the same way!
The NYtimes has a good article about the festival too!
http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/05/11/travel/11essaouira.html
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