I gotta go on for awhile, because this was possibly the most amazing show I’ve ever seen.
We talked all the way to Boulder. I felt pretty tired, near to comatose by the time we got there. We walked around a bit. Looks like a nice wealthy college town at the base of the mountains. I decided it was a town I could see myself living in: Taos type people, from what I saw, and that college atmosphere of funky freedom. The neighborhoods we saw reminded me so much of the east side of milwaukee, by the lake. We ate dinner in an odd little sandwhich shop (turkey, horseradish, cranberry, and sunflower seeds? What was that?
Chautauqua is a nature preserve and historical association on the edge of forest service land. The buildings are old, like turn of the century cottages and out buildings. The auditorium is an old barn, redone beautifully. We sat in the huge park and watched the road wind up the mountain. Lotsa oak trees, different species growing together. People picnicked, walked their dogs, birds sang. I felt a happy calm sense that I haven’t had since coming to Albuquerque. I miss it. At one point, I left Steph and Andrew and wandered. I ended up crosslegged under a tree. I could see a guy doing some fierce yoga
Today I snapped that I musta been flashing a bit to Mahlatini and the Mahotella Queens in Milwaukee that time. Remember? Under the huge trees in the park downtown. It seems every time I see an African band play, it’s a transformative experience for me. With Ali Farka, I finally had to get up and go down front, to the sides where people were dancing. Boy, it’s hard to dance to normal rhythms again when you’ve boogied to these poly beats, told you. I kept doing that ululating call of mine. By the end of the show, everyone was doing it.
I swear the djemba guy (is that what you call that drum thingy?) was playing with me, with my dancing. He, and the guy playing that thing that looked like a butt, and the singers (that cute bouncy guy, god, could he dance! ...his hands...) and Ali Farka kept looking to our side. I probably was pretty hilarious to watch, but ehh. Ehhhh! We didn’t want it to end. We got him to do an encore, that piece from Talking Timbuktu with the little gourd violin. I am woefully ignorant. :) He came out and spoke in french a bit more and signed autographs.
Hey! He’s playing right now on radiosonicnet. Yeah, baby, yeah!
Afterward we sat in the grass waiting for everyone to clear out. Andrew played his drum thingy. He’s good! It was kinda like magic, to be there in the dark. People came by to listen. I boogied. I felt so good and strong and free. Everything was flowing, told you, like it should be. I resolved right then to move to boulder. Then I laughed.
I kinda wished I’d stayed around to see Femi Kuti the next night.
Andrew decided we needed to go to Taos to the hotsprings, so after Co springs I took over the driving. Too bad I didn’t remember to go through Alamosa and down through Ft garland. Instead, we went through Raton and all the way down around through eaglenest, angel fire and taos canyon. It took like five hours. I was altered after two solid nights with no sleep. I came upon a doe in the road, slowed down. She hesitated and moved toward me. I told her, no way, sister. She walked off into the woods. Andrew was freaking. The two year or so stag we saw he insisted was an elk. I just kept snorting every time he said so. I think it pissed him off a bit, but come on. He was like, it was so big! Umm, sorry. Just a deer. He wanted it to be an elk so badly. :)
We got to the hotsprings at sun up. I realized it has been at least two years since I’ve been in the pools. Beautiful. I fell asleep in the lower pool. I... didn’t realize how much I missed it all. Taos mountain was in a looming mood. Beautiful, told you. I slept all the way back. It’s been hard to communicate how the trip was for me, to people. Steph knows. She worked yesterday, was like hey when she saw me. My vibe must have been pretty mellow (
Another malian guy is playing on radiosonicnet. I could recognize the style. Cool.
Today I’m hanging in my newly moved around place, dyeing my shirts with tea (stupid new uniforms, don’t get me started.
Sail on, Ali Farka.