Last year, Ted Williams Show participated in Iguana Rock III, a band play off in Monterrey. To my surprise this morning, there are several YouTube videos of our performance that night, the one above, and another, with better sound, taken from crowd level. See if you can spot yours truly at the keys.

Our band are very excited about our upcoming EP, which is still in production. I’ll be recording the keyboards for it in the following weekends. Tomorrow night I’ll be playing a completely different style of music with my friend Miguel Torres at the José Calderón theater in Monterrey. I hope to post a video of that on Sunday.

The Monterrey mayor did not authorize a large scale demonstration against Chavez today. Nevertheless a small group of Venezuelans and Hondurans braved the rain to meet in front of the Colombian consulate to show their rejection of Hugo Chavez.

Sadly our group leader never answered our emails and failed to show up today. Nevertheless we took pictures, signed collected emails and chatted a while. I’ll be editing a video later today.

Last Saturday, the Ted Williams Show, a Blues/Rock/Funk band I belong to, had a gig called “Voz en Off” at the Beaux Arts theater in the Convex Center of Monterrey. The theater is a top-notch venue, with excellent acoustics, very comfortable seats, and an enormously deep stage area.

Unfortunately, although we were able to fill more than half the seats, we weren’t able to recover even half of the production expenses. Still, we enjoyed the gig immensely, and would do it again in a heartbeat.

The video above is very amateur, and unfortunately, the friend of mine who recorded it, failed to record a single song from beginning to end, or to steady the camera. He still did a decent job, though; I’m glad to have this recording.

I was proud to sport my Honduran soccer jersey for the event!

Surfing on YouTube, I found this video of an outdoor concert I went to, on Earth Day, in a kiosk in Monterrey’s Macroplaza. There were barely some 80 people there, but the dancing was absolutely wild as you can see from the second minute of the video onward.

This is “La Siniestra” one of the bands I enjoyed the most, singing their song Wepa. The guy singing this song has a lot of charisma, and exuded fun. But there were two bands that inflicted us with the kind of sonic torture that makes me ponder on how excruciating hell would be.

A group of percussion students from a music school opened the evening playing on African instruments. People jumping, neo-hippies, and punk rockers could be seen in the crowd. Nearly everyone was in their twenties, or at least looked it. A young man waved a green flag, dancing barefoot. A young lady swayed slowly and gracefully side to side to the beat of the drums. The few office workers who wandered in look alien in business attire, and wear confused expressions. Preppy “fresas” wearing Abercrombie & Fitch or American Eagle mingled with people wearing psychedelic clothes that looked old enough to have survived the 60s.

A young lady handed out pamphlets and brightly asked for our emails and cell numbers, happily giving me a sheet of earth-friendly, non-bleached paper to write this entry on. I had my laptop, but didn’t dare call attention to myself by opening a macbook at night in the middle of a city of millions.

Afterward, an eco-punk band provided some unintentional comic relief by tearing the night with screaming lyrics. This sent the dancers into a convulsive frenzy with dances that might have outdone the Garifuna. Thankfully, the sound technician lowered the volume on the lead singer’s mike before she could do much damage.

Next, “La Verbena Popular” gave us a mix of old-style rock and roll, a heavy dose of Mexican pop-rock, and even a slice of Caribbean Reggae. They closed with a hippie-rock song that wouldn’t have been out of place at Woodstock, which set the crowd dancing exuberantly, ignoring the sarcastic grins of the non-dancers.

Then, “La Siniestra” exploded onstage, with an even more Caribbean rhythms, a dash of rap, a pinch of cumbia, positive, slightly leftist earthy lyrics, and contagious rhythms. A spicy-sweet musical feast.

But what came next could only be described as the soundtrack of Hades. I’ll spare you the piercing, horrific, mind numbing, shrieks of the last two bands. When they ended, the place was deserted, except for musicians, sound techs, and the odd ex-dancers lying on the ground.

Last Thursday, a friend and I hiked up a stream in the Estanzuela park near Monterrey. It was an exhausting trek, which in several places involved scrambling up rock walls with ropes, hoping not to slip or topple over. However it was very enjoyable and rewarding, especially considering how close this park is to Monterrey, a city of more than 5 million. We kept ourselves from collapse by imagining the hamburger we would eat once we got down.

The first image is of a cave (or abandoned mine, dunno) called “La Cueva de los Murcielagos”. Names sound much more musical and intriguing in Spanish, wouldn’t you agree? In English the name would be “the Bat Cave”; Yawn.

Along the stream, many insects were awakening from the winter, and stretching their wings for the first time, like the infant monarch in the second picture.

While the vegetation was not quite as luxurious as La Tigra national park in Tegucigalpa, the water was astoundingly clean and clear, and after a sweaty climb, tasted as spectacular as tears from the eyes of God. We weren’t allowed to cool ourselves in the water, since this stream is one of the oldest to supply the city with water, since 1909.

I made friends with a drunkard yesterday, not that I had much choice. What would you do if you sat next to a guy in a bus, and he leaned over to your ear and whispered: “I just got out of jail today”? I almost jumped out of my skin!

He looked pretty normal when I sat next to him, but I was tired, it was 10pm, raining, and the bus was packed. People were lining up in a double line in the center aisle. I couldn’t just go find another seat. So I tried to ignore him.

After talking about jail reeking with foul smells, he asked me if I thought he smelled bad, because the lady who hat sat near him earlier had complained. I didn’t think he was particularly smelly, but I just nodded and pretended I was sleepy.

My philosophy with drunks is to be polite to them, believe what they say, and try to avoid them. But here I was stuck next to one, a very talkative drunk (aren’t they all), and I really didn’t want to lose my seat. He might have been a pickpocket, or a rapist, or a murderer, who knows how he ended up in jail? So for safety, humoring him seemed best.

He then started talking about what he had done the moment he got out of jail: go ask a friend for 500 pesos (50 dollars). That’s enough money to survive for a week, but what did he spend it on? Prostitutes and beer. He even invited me to go with him sometime.

That was the turning point of the conversation.

Don’t ask me how, but I was able to suggest to him that he ought to go to Alcoholics Anonymous. I told him about several friends of mine who almost drunk themselves to death, literally. He listened pretty attentively, considering his state. He told me he had once been in rehab for months, how he had lost his wife, his job, his money. He was depressed about losing everything, and the death of his parents, and his hopeless situation. He didn’t ask for money.

I suggested he get help, that he wouldn’t be able to get out of his alcoholism alone. Also, that his situation was only hopeless because he believed it was hopeless. Thus, his belief became the truth.

I’ve had several alcoholic friends, and am not foolish enough to think that our conversation made a difference. He was certainly feeling much better at the end of it, smiling and saying he would go back to rehab. The grim truth is that he probably won’t. But hey, maybe he will, who knows?

What struck me most about the whole thing is to see myself reflected in his predicament, my struggles with depression and controlling my own addictions. It would be hard to find a person more repulsive than a drunk ex-con. But I could relate with him in a way most people wouldn’t. He helped me to see my mission here in Monterrey, not to be a savior, but a sinner who knows the way.

Image by Nikki L., used with a Creative Commons license

Tuesday, the first holiday I’ve had since I arrived in Mexico, began poorly. A group of friends were planning on going to the nearby town of Saltillo. But, at the last minute, the plans broke down, when the driver decided to perfect the mexican pastime of the siesta well into the afternoon.

But the day recovered quickly. Instead of going to Saltillo, two friends and I went sightseeing across Monterrey. We visited the Obispado museum, (the Bishop’s Palace), and the “Fundidora” Park. The latter is a museum built in the buildings of an old steel factory which drove the economy of Monterrey for almost a century.

I took over 500 pictures! I prepared a slideshow of the better ones for you. Dazed with hunger, with feet like hamburger, we went home, after an exhausting good time.

I’m sitting in a restaurant as I type, waiting for breakfast. I usually grab something on the fly, anxious to get to work on time. Today, I thought I had enough time for a real morning meal. But, I was wrong. It’s 8:30 and I’m still waiting for my comfort food to arrive.

Monterrey is a nice place to live, if you have a car and a good salary. I have the salary, but not the car. I haven’t bought one, and I won’t until next year. I live very far from work, and spend two hours and a half in my daily commute. These are two hours I could be sleeping, exercising, playing music, reading, anything but sweating in a bus listening to “norteño” music.

I am on the verge of moving closer to work. But, the friends I live with are a missionary couple, who are pregnant with their second child, and barely making ends meet. The husband is working three jobs besides his volunteer work. The wife is always nauseous from her pregnancy. Just the thought of cooking can bring her nausea.

I know they are slightly overcharging me for rent and food, but I am one of their major sources of income. That has stopped me from moving away, even though I spend way too much on eating out and taxis because there’s often no food at home. I know I could move out and save money, but I don’t want to cause them distress.

Latin American waiters know when a client is impatient and can very skillfully ignore them. They seem to have a radar! They’ve just brought me some fruit, but I need them to get on with it and bring the main course, I’m already late!

There’s a lot more, most of which is positive…but for some reason good things are usually shorter to describe. Mexicans are incredibly urbane and friendly in comparison with Honduras. I’ve easily made several friends since I’ve arrived.

There is an ominous dark cloud over all this, but unfortunately, I can’t blog about it; maybe I would If I were anonymous. But the truth is, in this information age, I can’t have my inner demons only a Google search away.

It’s a bit strange to celebrate my 32ond birthday in another country, I don’t think I was saw it coming even a year ago. It feels a bit strange to be so far from my parents, and most of my family. Still, we had a good time; my church friends and I went to eat oriental food at the “Wok” today and saw the new X-Files movie. Later we’ll go out to eat yet again and hang out a bit.

Fortunately for Monterrey, the rain we’re getting is more of a mild mist. It’s just enough for evil-hearted drivers to go around drenching people with.

Texas, though, bore the brunt of the storm. We might get stronger rain later in the day, as Dolly is still a tropical storm, her eye barely discernible, and still in Texas.