Last night I had plans to see a movie. I didn’t have time to make dinner at home, so on my way there I stopped at a döner kebab.
It was empty and the proprietor was nowhere in sight. The only noise came from the Tee-Vee, loudly blaring the fútbol game. There was a sad, desolate feel to the place.
A voice said, “One moment, please. I’ll be right with you.”
A stocky, older Middle-Eastern man appeared. He had a head of perfectly styled, slicked-down black hair, like Ronald Reagan. “What can I get you?” he said in a high-pitched, slightly effeminate voice. This was an elegant man.
“A shawarma sandwich, please.”
“Coming right up.” As he cut the meat off the big, rotating spit, he said over his shoulder, “Do they like fútbol in your country?”
“My country is here now,” I said. “But they prefer fútbol americano where I’m from.”
“Oh, you’re from America!”
I still tend to get nervous when I tell a Middle-Eastern person I’m from the U.S.A., after all the shit that’s gone down there: Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, taking out Bin Laden… I can’t help it.
“Yes. New York.”
“Oh, New York!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s wonderful! Have you ever been there?”
“No, never. I’ve always wanted to visit the U.S. It seems like an incredible country.”
“It really is; especially New York. A city full of immigrants from every part of the world, and they all get along.” A little exaggerated, perhaps, but basically true.
“I’ve heard that; they all get along!”
“Not everywhere in America, but in New York, they do. In New York, you’ll find a Syrian restaurant next to a Chinese take-out, next to a Jewish deli, next to an Italian restaurant… and they all get along. Plus, you get to eat a lot of great food from all over the world!” I added, laughing.
“I’ve heard that,” said the schawarma man, turning toward the counter to put the lettuce, tomato, and onion into the sandwich. “Maybe when they were in their home countries, they fought with one another, but when they get to the U.S., they get along.”
“Yep. They have other things to worry about once they get there. Where are you from?”
“Syria.”
“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry about what’s going on in your country.”
“Yes, it’s terrible,” said the schawarma man, putting the sandwich onto the grill to heat up. ”The Syrian government would have fallen a long time ago if it wasn’t for Russia and China, who send them weapons.”
“It’s all about business, isn’t it?”
“Business?? Mafias! Russia and China are in with the mafias: drugs, arms trafficking… But still, the Syrian government will fall soon. The same family has ruled my country for 42 years. And the people are convinced that everything’s good, when it’s not. That’s why I left 30 years ago. I was sick of it. I am 50 now.”
“You’ve been here since you were 20 years old? So you’ve spent the majority of your life in this country. Your life is here then.”
“Yes, it is. When I go back to Syria to visit… I don’t know. I don’t feel good. I don’t feel like I belong there.”
“How do you feel here?”
“I have a daughter who is 18 years old. She fits in here perfectly. But I do not. I don’t know where I belong.”
“You feel on the outside looking in.”
“Yes. That’s how I feel here. And when I go to Syria, I don’t feel good either. I feel like I’m on a balcony, watching everything happen, from above.”
“You have Ulysses’ Syndrome. Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“That’s what we immigrants get when we move to another country, another culture. We don’t fit in anywhere. We feel we’re forever wandering the earth, like the hero Ulysses in The Odyssey, unable to get home.”
“Yes! That’s what I feel. We are lost.”
“Yes, we are lost.” I said. ”We don’t know where we belong. We’re floating, like our feet never touch the ground. Sometimes we fall into depressions.”
“Yes, I have depressions sometimes,” he said, taking the shawarma off the grill.
“That’s because you have Ulysses Syndrome. It’s completely normal to feel that way. Lots of people do.”
“Yes,” said the shwarma man, wrapping my perfectly-wrapped, delicious-smelling sandwich in foil. As he handed it to me, he looked into my eyes with a big, warm smile and said: “We are lost!”
“Yes, we are lost,” I said, laughing. Then I paid him and went to see the movie, leaving him to his fútbol game and empty restaurant.
Two perspectives on death in America: the funny side, and the not-at-all-funny side.
My friend Neal sent the above video to me today. It’s one of those things that is so hilarious, it’s hard to believe that no one’s thought up this exact scene for a movie or a series. A case of life being more hilarious than art itself!
From there, I clicked on a related video, of a young woman dancing at her mother’s funeral. The top comment got my attention:
“im a 23yr old so called thug but this vid broke me on the inside.”
The video is long, but I urge you to watch the whole thing from start to finish to see how the collective catharsis builds as she invites the congregation to share her pain. It’s absolutely riveting.
But even more so is how the daughter of the dead woman turns her grief into art. Absolutely beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen raw grief turned into a show with such honesty and purity of intention.
And her gestures at the end will “break” you, I’m pretty sure of it.
The other day I left my apartment and pressed the button for the elevator. As it lowered down to my floor, I could hear the distinct South American accents of the girls who work in the massage parlors throughout the building. As far as friendliness, they’re a mixed bag: some say hello, some even smile; others brush by you quickly and silently, avoiding eye contact. I can understand it.
Anyway, I open the door to the elevator and it’s nearly full; three young, attractive women in their skin-tight jeans. Out of courtesy, I ask, “Quepo?” (“Is there room?”). One of them nods yes and I get in, trying my darndest to metaphysically shrink myself as much as possible so as to not invade their space.
The elevator is notoriously slow, but the ride seems especially eternal because now that I’ve gotten on, the conversation they were having before has come to a dead halt. But of course. What in the world do we have to say to each other?
In this uncomfortable moment, I notice that one of the girls – the petite one right next to me – is standing with her back to me, facing the buttons on the right-hand wall, like in the final, terrorific scene in The Blair Witch Project. Her body is in a strange, crimped position, as if she’s trying to hug the elevator wall with her body. She’s utterly silent and it’s downright disturbing. I admit it: I take it a bit personally. What’s her problem? I think.
One of the other girls breaks the silence. “How’s your ass?”
The girl facing the buttons says, “It hurts.”
Oh my God.
The rest of the girls laugh. “Don’t worry,” says one. “You’ll feel better soon. Just get something to eat and forget about it.”
The girl with the sore ass laughs a tiny bit. “What else can I do?” she shrugs.
Finally the elevator reaches the ground floor and we all get out. “Hasta luego,” I say.
“Hasta luego,” they say back, all of them smiling now except for the one with the sore ass. I wish I could add, “Hope your ass feels better,” but we don’t have that kind of relationship.
Aquí tenemos una cosa inédita en este blog: un “guest post”. Es algo que he querido hacer durante tiempo (y cómo no, si me quita trabajo de encima? ), pero no ha sucedido hasta ahora. Más especial aún es que el autor de este post es el director de Popular 1, Cesar Martin. Gracias, Cesar, por compartir tus pensamientos y experiencias con nosotros.
Hola a todos! Gracias por la respuesta tan positiva que me habéis dado por el nuevo show que tengo planificado para el 16 de Marzo, “Let’s Get Mugged”. Ya he montado una página en Facebook para el evento: https://www.facebook.com/events/347296271952797/
Si no tienes Facebook, copio los datos aquí, que el show ya está formando muy bien. Tengo muchas ganas para que llegue la fecha del 16 de Marzo!
Hello everybody! Thanks for the positive response to this new show. I’ve made a Facebook page where you can keep in touch with developments (and confirm attendance): https://www.facebook.com/events/347296271952797/
If you don’t have Facebook, here’s the latest info. Very excited to announce the addition of a drummer and an exotic dancer to the show, and can’t wait for March 16th to roll around!
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El viernes 16 de Marzo, Rachel Arieff estrena un nuevo “lounge show” al estilo neoyorquino de los años ’50. Una mezcla de música y stand-up irreverente, “Let’s Get Mugged” tendrá lugar en un ambiente íntimo: Bar Robadors 23, en la calle más — cómo se describe? “Pintoresca”? “Excitante”? “Peligrosa”? — de Barcelona. Este bar, acogedor y nada pretencioso, que tiene un piano de pared y una ética de precio de entradas low-cost, es el sitio perfecto para compartir una hora y pico de ritmos, revelaciones, y risas.
Esa noche, además de compartir observaciones sobre su vida ridícula, Rachel tocará canciones originales y covers en el piano, desde Tom Waits a Barón Rojo, Bowie a Nino Bravo, Johnny Thunders a Jeanette. Tocando la batería estará su querido amigo y compañero de escenario de los viejos tiempos, Jordi Guell. También habrá sorpresas: Rachel compartirá el micro con varias carismáticas Estrellas Subterráneas barcelonesas, que nos deleitarán con sus voces y personalidades únicas.
Marcad la fecha en vuestros calendarios, Damas y Caballeros, porque esta noche será única e inolvidable!
ACTUALIZADO: Ya tenemos confirmada una bailarina especial, dando un toque sensual al show. Identidad secreta del momento pero luego se destapará. Mola!
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On Friday, March 16th, Rachel Arieff will introduce a 1950′s New York-style lounge show, “Let’s Get Mugged”. A mix of music, stand-up and surprises, “Let’s Get Mugged” takes place in an intimate setting: Bar Robadors 23, on the most — oh, how should we describe it? — “Picturesque”? “Exciting”? “Wallet-Unfriendly”? — street in Barcelona. This cozy, unpretentious bar with an upright piano and an ethic of low-cost admission fees (typically 2€ a pop!) is the perfect setting to share an hour of rhythms, revelations, and laughs.
On this night, besides sharing gems about her ridiculous life, Rachel will take a seat at the piano and play original songs as well as covers — everything from Tom Waits to Barón Rojo, Bowie to Nino Bravo, Johnny Thunders to Jeanette. (Yes, we’re fucking serious.) Accompanying on drums will be Rachel’s old friend from her beginning days in the Llantiol Theater, Jordi Guell.
Finally, Rachel will share the mic with certain übercharismatic Subterranean Superstars of the Barcelona scene, who will drop in to delight us with their personality and vocal charms.
Mark it on your calendar, Ladies and Gentlemen, because this is a one-night-only affair that promises to be unforgettable: LET’S GET MUGGED!
UPDATE: It’s now confirmed that we’ll have a “mood dancer” giving a sensual touch to the show. Right now her identity is secret, but we’ll reveal it later. AWESOMENESS!
Buenas tardes, cabrones y cabronas! Lamento la larga ausencia. Realmente debería aprovecharme de estos largos descansos y hacerme un lifting o algo igual de divertido.
Llevaba tiempo buscando un local acogedor (traducción: enano, con booze) en donde estrenar un show lounge, basado en música pero incorporando un poco de stand-up también. Ya sabéis algunos que toco la piano (no soy la hostia, pero tengo mi gracia) y a veces compongo canciones, además de aprender covers de mis canciones favoritas. ANYWAY, me resultaba difícil encontrar un local en Barcelona que tuviese piano (real, antiguo, de pared), que no fuese un teatro, que no fuese pretencioso o caro, que no fuese cerrado de mente respecto a programación, etc.
Entonces recordé el bar 23 Robador, en una de las peores calles de Barcelona. Hace años, entré allí para tomar algo y empecé a tocar el viejísimo piano de pared que tenían. El piano estaba hecho polvo físicamente, pero sonaban todas las teclas. Me enamoré de ese piano, que desprendía olores de humo de cien años de mala vida cada vez que uno de los martillos pegaba las cuerdas. Echaba de menos tener un piano en casa y quería un piano exactamente así, con carácter e historia, pero no tenía dinero, incluso para un piano como ese de segunda mano.
Mientras tocaba y pensaba eso, el camarero salió de detrás de la barra y vino hacia mí. “Oh, me va a echar del piano,” pensé, porque no había pedido permiso para tocarlo y en algunos sitios se ponen nerviosos cuando empiezas a tocar el instrumento musical que han colocado sólo para ornamentación. Eso siempre me ha irritado: cuando tratan un piano que funciona perfectamente como un mueble. ¿He dicho “pretencioso” anteriormente? Pues eso.
El camarero me dice, “Oye, ¿no querrás el piano? El dueño del local lo va a tirar porque va a comprar un nuevo. Si lo quieres, llévatelo gratis. Sólo has de pagar la mudanza.”
Tuve ese piano en mi apartamento durante años.
Mr. Tacos en el piano regalado de Robadors 23.
Me dio una fecha: viernes 16 de Marzo. Estoy muy excitada por tocar allí y presentar mis chorradas de una manera distinta. Además de nuevo material cómico sobre mi vida ridícula, presentaré unos temas originales, más mis favoritas canciones de Tom Waits, Johnny Thunders, Barón Rojo, David Bowie, Jimi Hendrix, y Nino Bravo. Además, habrán invitados especiales para cantar. Creo que cobran 2€ en la puerta; espero que no sea demasiado caro para vosotros Motherf*ckers.
El bar está localizado en c/ Robador, 23. Buscad la puta con sobrepeso, sentada en una caja de leche con el coño al aire; suele estar justo en frente de la puerta, a unos metros de la pandilla de marroquíes peleándose con cuchillos.
Nos vemos allí el viernes 16 de Marzo! Hora: 21:30h. Si va bien y todos salen contentos, igual habrá más fechas. Proveeré más detalles sobre el contenido del show cuando los tenga.
I have just discovered something that has made it difficult to concentrate on my work, family, and friendships. And that thing, Ladies and Gentlemen, is a New York public access TeeVee show from the early ’80s called STAIRWAY TO STARDOM.
I am powerless to stop clicking on every episode that shows up in the side column on YouTube. As one commenter remarked, “It’s more like Stairway to being made fun of years later on YouTube.”
), pero no ha sucedido hasta ahora. Más especial aún es que el autor de este post es el director de Popular 1, Cesar Martin. Gracias, Cesar, por compartir tus pensamientos y experiencias con nosotros.
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