Mexico Diary - Jalisco en Vivo! Jalisco es Mexico!

That was what was printed on the cute black concert tee shirts they handed out at the entrance.It epitomized the Mexican spirit of resilience and their special brand of joie de vivre.

Our night out started at 5.30pm when we joined some Mexican friends in a line to enter the concert area – actually there were 2 lines, one for men and the other for women (which moved far slower as there were more bags to search at the entrance and I suspect there were slightly more women at the concert given the artist lineup). After going from bar to bar searching out a wine bottle opener and some plastic cups we started our fiesta in the line, pouring a cup or two for the kind souls who let us into the line just in front of them. We had 3 bottles between us and unfortunately had to lose the last unfinished one and the corkscrew at the bag check.

When we finally made it through the gates (the wine and cheese helped dull any impatience and we were quite pink-cheeked and merry by the time we were through), the atmosphere was electric. Party boats dotted the water all along the Bay as they got as close as possible to the stage. The sky was dark and looming and it didn’t take long for the rain to pour down on us. I had a poncho in my bag but it was impossible to get to in the mosh pit, so I stood in my tank top and shorts with my friends and the entire population of Puerto Vallarta getting absolutely drenched. It was invigorating! I think the wine helped keep us warm for a bit.

We had to wait quite some time before the concert actually started. But I didn’t mind, in the rain, in the steamy sandwich of armpit to cheek to shoulder to chest, my mind trailed off to that summer in Glastonbury. It was where I met you. You who could make an electric guitar sing like Satch could. I was barely twenty, and you were just twenty four. But your green eyes held more truth for me than the Holy Bible did at that time. And they saw only me. Even though we were right next to a bunch of models from Holland frolicking in the mud. We talked, and drank, and laughed, and shared our brief lives in that one afternoon. And when the rain came, you kissed me.

I was snapped out of my reverie when the crowd surged and moved as one ant colony towards the front of the stage. No empuje! No pushing! As people were getting slammed into each other.I laughed as it hadn’t stopped raining and I was right royally soaked. I put on my black concert tee to warm up a little. Then, Alejandro Fernandez finally appeared on stage after a couple of passes in a helicopter overhead. The crowd went crazy! Tonight I could see why, this man in the flesh is even larger than life! He looked a little older than when I’d seen him in my favourite music video, which I found sexier, more interesting. But then I always did have a bias for older men.

It wasn’t typically my sort of music for a concert as I usually lean to the rock, blues, folk rock, alternative genres, but you can’t be in Jalisco and not love Alejandro. It was a great party on stage where he sang with friends and fellow artists Gian Marco, Maria Jose, amongst others.And I came away at the end finally donned in the poncho, thinking what a night!

Alejandro Fernandez

Alejandro and Gian Marco from Peru

Alejandro aaaannnd Aleks Syntek?

Enrique Iglesias

When an ad campaign stays with you...

Every once in a while...along comes a brand that has something great to say. Marry that with an awesome portrait photographer Annie Liebovitz. And you have a connection that stays with you for some time, just like a classic.

Louis Vuitton's 'Journeys' receives a standing ovation from an old, not yet crusty ad woman.

They are all beautifully delivered in choice of talent, the setting, the expression of each personality, and the simple but powerful lines that are relevant to a generation.

Which is your favourite?

Is there any greater journey than love?

Some journeys cannot be put into words.

A journey brings us face to face with ourselves.

Sometimes, home is just a feeling.

Out and About: Guadalajara, Mexico's Second Largest City

Fire and Grace

'Flamenco...at its heart, has always been and always will be an intimate form of music. You have not heard authentic flamenco, if you have not been in a juerga, with a small group of friends, at midnight somewhere in the south of Spain,

where there is nothing around but the voice, the guitar and the body of a dancer moving in the moonlight.'

Out and About: Puerto Vallarta First Glimpse

Mexico Diary - I vow to tease you until my last breath

It was just a moment. So tiny, I might have missed it had I breathed.

The sun was high in a sky coloured a perfect cloudless blue. I was strolling around an art and crafts market with our Spanish class teacher and the only other student in my class, P from Zurich. Amidst the colour and festivities of the artisenias, I saw them.

She was seated, her hands busy with cross-stitch or embroidery or something of the sort, something wonderfully feminine and totally alien to me. Before her, a delectable spread of her delicate work was proudly placed on a table cloaked in white fabric.

He wore a white cowboy sombrero made of fine weave straw. His personality showed through his swagger as he came up behind her, slowly he bent over and leaned in until his mouth was only a breath away from her ear. She stirred as though she knew he was near. His mouth moved slowly, and as he spoke, the corners of his mouth turned up into a mischievous smile. She wriggled free from his grip on her shoulders and shooed him away like a pesky fly and refocused on her work, her nose crinkling to make a little face at him. He came back with the same gusto and bravado as a kamikaze fly plagued with hunger. Except his hunger appeared only to be the need for his senses to be filled with her. Once again his mouth curled up into a grin, as he whispered gently in her ear, this time with a firmer grip on her shoulders so she couldn’t get away. Then when he’d finished speaking he gently pulled her toward him so he could plant a soft kiss resolutely on her cheek. Her resolve was admirable, but her eyes gave away everything when she finally glanced up to behold his face for just a moment. Instinctively, I reached for my camera as I could never resist perfect beauty, but I found my hand shrinking back as it reached its quarry. The camera remained in my bag respectfully, and instead I replaced my sunglasses to hide my eyes for I could feel them start to moisten.

From their hands, I guessed a possible age, they testified to a long full life of honest hard work. But their faces were soft and smooth like a child’s, and the sunlight danced in their eyes. I smiled as I thought back to my urban friends…that perhaps love is the best anti-wrinkle cream.

When the moment receded, I became angry. I didn’t understand why life chose to keep bringing me back to love. When I was trying to focus elsewhere, to ponder my raison d’etre, figure out my next career move, decide on my next meal… But everywhere I turned I was being confronted by it…a mother gazing down on her baby in a crowded bus, a little girl reaching up to grab her father’s hand as she called out ‘Papi’, a couple embracing like it was their final embrace even though they were only parting for an hour. I was an unwilling, unwitting witness to love in such pure forms, as though I was an open book that refused to be closed.

Mais ca c’est la vie. It is not always up to you, when Life chooses to deal the cards that are meant to teach or show you the path to change or to evolve. It is sometimes when you are the most vulnerable that you are also the most open to her.

Mexico Diary - What do you call your beloved?

Mi tesoro

Mi amor

Mi vida

Mi corazon

Mi almar

My treasure

My love

My life

My heart

My soul

 

How intensely, passionately, madly, wildly, unashamedly do the Spanish love.  When was the last time you called a beloved your life, your heart, your soul? 

Makes me wonder if this should be the only way to love. 

Crazy, with abandon, with every fibre of your being.  (notice no reference to ‘my mind’, who fucking says I love you with my all my mind anyways??!??)

But does it last. 

Does this flame that burns so furiously, burn out all too quickly…

Or is it love that comes in silence, quietly at first light, as you watch the rising sun caress his sleeping face and run your fingers gently over his lashes as you smile to yourself.  Is this the love that burns for a few lifetimes...

Fuck if I should know.