Keep on Drummin

Tonight, I went to Central Park to see the free Rodrigo y Gabriela concert at the Summerstage. After procrastinating at home, being indecisive about going, and not quite sure of how to get there, I only saw them play 2 songs, but the trip was not a waste at all.

R y G are Mexican guitar players who are really awesome and there were a ton of people there to see them. Muchos latinos y hay algunos guapos!! Hola papi! It was really cool, and I wish I could've seen more. I'm also really disappointed that I'm going to miss Wyclef hosting next week's free performance there. ohhhh well... its not like he's the performer anyways.

So after I was done scoping out los chicos calientes and eavesdropping on their conversations en espanol (and after that creepy kid on the bike realized I wasn't going to be his new best friend), I started walking back, but had remembered on my way to the stage, that I had passed these cool drummers. Well, they were still there, and are apparently there, according to some Hombre, every Saturday and Sunday from about 2-who knows when. Black people, latinos, and a random white guy all with big drums or other percussion- cowbells, scrapers, recorders- lined the bench. There was a huge crowd surrounding them- tourists with cameras (i must look like a tourist wherever i go), regulars, people getting into the music and dancing like crazy, white people with no rhythm who were "feeling it"..

They would just keep drumming, the rhythm and the pattern changing. Sometimes they'd stop and it was almost like a competition who would be first to set the new beat. It was AWESOME! I have a pictures almost exactly like these. The only difference was it was taken in a park below the equator, in Recoleta, in my belovéd Buenos Aires.

I hung out for a while just taking it all in. I wanted to bust a move (white girls got rhythm), but I just stuck with the casual, yet rhythmically evident, head bobbing. This random old foreign man made me dance with him. I don't know what the hell he was doing- trying to twirl me around, kinda. I asked him where he was from and he said "I forgot." White girls jumped all around as a black girl was getting seduced by her own personal drummer.

Nearby, the roller skating party had died down, but the party was still rocking. The old school hiphop blared as the dancers- some still in their skates- danced on. At times one person would show off their moves- a handstand, some breakdancing on the floor, but other times they would randomly get into lines and all do the exact same dance. How did they know it? I guess you just catch on after going to the same place in the park every single weekend. None of these people were doing this for money, they were just doing what they love- and I love that.

Next time, I'm gonna bring my drum and bust a beat with the best of them, and my dancing shoes so I can bust a move.

There's so much to see and do here that it can be, at times, very overwhelming.

So now I leave back to the Homeland (and the beach!). The land with garbage disposals, washers and dryers, my car in the garage and nothing to do but lay on the sofa and cuddle with my cats. Oh, but I'll be back..

I might just miss you New York.