October 2011

A year ago today a non-Spanish speaking gringo stepped out of the Barranquilla airport for the first time. He fought his way through a crowd of people looking for someone holding a sign with his name on it, but he saw no one. That young scraper walked right passed the three young women waiting to pick him up and got into a cab. He handed the cab driver a business card he was given before leaving that had the directions to his hotel on the back. “Por favor, aqui,” he said.

He stared out the window in amazement as the cab drove through some of the poorest and most dangerous areas to get to the center of the city. This was after all his first time in another country, not including a trip to Canada with the North Carolina Boys Choir and the time he stepped over the Rio Grande into Mexico with his grandfather and brother for a few seconds just to say they were there. After a thirty minute drive the cab stopped in front of what appeared to be a bar not yet open, it was only 9 am. “Estamos aqui compadre,” the driver said. The young gringo looked out the window in confusion. Could this really be the place he was supposed to sleep? There were beer bottles all over the patio and a large group of people sitting outside on the stoop.

“Amgio, ¿este es un hotel?” the gringo said.

“No, esta es La Troja! Un lugar para bailar salsa,” he replied while mimicking the dance. The cab driver then held up the La Troja business card and showed the confused passenger. The gringo took the card, turned it around, and pointed to the written directions on the back.

When they finally arrived at the hotel there was a man that looked like a cartoon character waiting outside. The gringo had been given descriptions of the people he would be working with and knew for sure this had to be the project manager, Gustavo. He didn’t take two steps out of the car until the man approached him.

“Are you Mike?” he asked.

“Yes, are you Gustavo?” the gringo replied.

“Where were you at the airport? There were three girls from the university waiting for you. You are late, we need to hurry up and get to the studio. Give your bags to the door man and let’s go,” he said in not quite fluent English.

The gringo was surprised to arrive at a house; he had imagined the studio being in some building or on the university campus. Instead it was tucked behind this cozy house, with tall walls surrounding it and a full family living inside. It was small but fully equipped.  The gringo walked into the room and felt the eyes of a small crowd looking him over. They had been waiting a week for this man to walk through the door, most of them picturing an overweight, older gringo stomping into the room eating a corndog. They were taken back by how young and handsome he was… jaja

The gringo was immediately put on the spot. He was asked to sing; to record the voice of Mike, one of the main characters on the radio show they would be creating; and in an unexpected turn of events asked to be the voice of Lola, the female parrot in the show. The first few hours of recording were shaky. The gringo was nervous and the people in the studio expected great things from him, after all he did come all the way from Washington, D.C. because he was an expert. Right? It took a few days for everyone to get comfortable working together, but once they did they made magic.

Today the gringo and his friends/colleges are one week away from finishing that radio project. In all, they have made three years worth of material for primary schools to use. The gringo has done and learned many things since that day he stumbled around the city for the first time. While he is sad he will have to leave this amazing country in less than a month, the thought that the songs he has created will be played in schools every week for years to come makes him happy. It is as if he never will leave…

Q: Why am I on a runway with a bunch of Colombian models?

A: Rap!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=McZQvi20nXY&featuer=feedu]

When Larry and I first started this rap thing we were just interested to see what we could create. We were both very into hip hop, Motown, and any music that had substance (musically or lyrically). We would put together mixes of all types of music, from Bone Thugs to The Eagles. They were called chill mixes. At the time all I wanted to do was make a song good enough for a Chill Mix. Innocence!

Finding the software to create music ourselves was like being invited to play in a game you’ve watched for years but never lased up for. Once we started making songs we thought were good, we ran with the idea of living the dream. Every person in the crew had a role: beat maker, rapper, manager, all the way to bus driver. It was in our minds, as all things are, very much in reach.

Years later I’m rapping on a runway in Colombia, playing frogger with models walking passsed me in both directions. A few stop to dance with me, and as I look up at them like a puppy does someone holding a piece of steak I realize… I’ve made the Chill Mix.

If I never get signed and get to live like a rock star, cool, I still got to rap on a runway with a bunch of Colombian models. As long as stuff like that keeps happening I will continue to live by my motto, follow the music, and refuse to see my career as a rapper as anything but successful.

Before I came to Colombia my only knowledge of Medellin came from stories of Pablo Escobar, really just what I saw in Entourage. I’m happy to say that I have broadened my horizons.

Medellin lies in a valley completely surrounded by mountains that reach high enough to break through the lowest layer of clouds. I was able to make it to the top of one of the mountains early enough to see the sun rise, reach over the summit, and shine down on the city in a progressing line. It was like watching God pull the curtains open on a new day.

The majority of the houses are built on the sides of these mountains. I was told it was too dangerous to venture into these areas, but I was able to take a cable lift over them and get a good look at the living conditions: identical red brick houses for as far as the eye could see, many of which built on top of rock foundations that looked ready to slide with the next rainfall. I saw neighborhoods where kids played soccer on roads that were as steep as they were narrow, a hard way to learn not to miss the goal. The higher you go up the worse the conditions become, until you reach the top where three large, beautiful black buildings look over the city- their library. We rode the lift over the houses, past the summit, and another mile or so over a forest until we reached a park. It was advertised as a place to enjoy over 60 extreme sports. Unfortunately, it started raining as soon as we strapped on our helmets and we were unable to have our adventure.

Within the city you can find parks filled with famous sculptures and water spouts where families gather. The night life is amazing with a number of downtown areas filled with bars and restaurants. I was told before I came that the women of Medellin are notoriously gorgeous. This was accurate information, however, as in any big city for every attractive woman there are a handful of people walking faster than I run while simultaneously conducting an imaginary orchestra, or some type of crackheadish activity.

Even though it rained for part of every day we were there I would still say the weather is much nicer than Barranquilla’s. It feels like early fall there, hot when the suns out and a little chilly when it’s gone. If you get the chance to go you should check out a club called Mango’s, all types of crazy stuff went down there.

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