volcano, i love you

I follow the Global Volcanism Blog (and also follow them on Twitter!).  And these photos are infinitely more exciting than whatever I experienced at this tango workshop in NYC this weekend.  To tell you the truth the workshop left me a little cold, even though I took a great video of the performance at the Friday night milonga.  But the video looks like every other tango performance everywhere, and sometimes what is truly sublime occurs where we least expect it, on a lonely night in Iceland, on top of a volcano called "Eyafallajökul."

And although all of Europe has been shut down, and everyone's facebook updates say "stupid volcano, I'm stuck in Milano," (heaven forbid!), I saw these photos and nearly cried over their beauty.  They come from Stromboli Online, a Swiss channel.  "I want your love, and I want your revenge..."

j.a.  

rescued by egyptians

Bad tango night = worse night, every time.


Do you ever get claustrophobic at a milonga?  I don't mean because of the crowds of people blocking you on the floor, maneuvering as best they can because the place is so packed with tango dancers...  Tonight, after about two hours, all I wanted to do was dance, but the last thing on earth I wanted was for someone to look at me, approach me, and ask me to dance.  I was almost panicked, and that doesn't make for good dancing.  Even the idea of having a pleasant conversation with someone at one of the tables was horrifying.  I wanted to dance, but I wanted to disappear even more (but no, not like that scene in Flashdance).


So, knowing nothing good could come out of this emotional state, I put on my street shoes and called a taxi.  My whole being put up a sign: don't approach, see?  I even put on my street shoes to keep you away from me while I wait for my taxi.  A Russian came up to me and said, "That's it?"  The milonga was supposed to go to 3am.  I tried to convince myself that I wasn't feeling well, that was why I was leaving, and I suppose I really wasn't feeling well.  God, if tango brings me a whole new set of neuroses, I won't know what to do...


I left, and when the taxi let me off I stopped into a local café (ha, starbucks) to drown my sorrows.  I thought about how I was too poor to buy a bottle of wine (it's the end of the month and my money flew away on tango classes, practicas, and milongas) and I felt worse.


Then, like a sign from heaven, I sit down with my hot chocolate (very self-destructive, I know, I need to stop drinking) and there are two men speaking Arabic on the couch behind me.  I know, like it's in my blood, that by the way they are talking, they are Egyptian.  Mish maA'oul, yani, ba'oulak eie, mafeesh wa'at; ah, yani, helwa kidda, and all of that.  I am suddenly at Pastroudis again.  Or Arabica.  Or Om Kolthoum.  Or Stiletto.  Or anywhere in that dusty, insane place that I call home.

I turn to them and say, "low samaHt, inta min misr?" to one of them ("excuse me, are you from Egypt?").  Ah, min misr! yes! inti misreya? ("yes, from egypt! are you egyptian?") -- no, I am not Egyptian, I explain, I just... am Egyptian.  They couldn't believe I wasn't born in Egypt, or had Egyptian parents, and I spoke with them for a half hour in Arabic about cairo, boston, molokheya, traffic, alexandria.  So I left starbucks feeling happy, a little cold in the winter weather, but still with a smile on my face.  


I tend to be continually pulled by two things in life: Egypt and tango.  When one "life" disappoints me, the other fulfills me.  When I was suffering in Egypt, tango reminded me that there was incredible beauty in the world.  Now it's Egypt's turn to pick me up, but I still have to live with the fact that I will be a foreigner in every country I go.  I will never be truly Egyptian, I will never be truly American, I will never be French even though I speak like a Parisian, never Russian nor Argentinian or... anything, really.  I'm a stateless emigrée.         


"We find a country in these words..." I once wrote.  But now I'm beginning to think we find a country in these embraces, these sad, lonely little bodies that search for a love that lasts 3 minutes.  Sometimes it's beautiful; sometimes it's just awful.  Who ever said any of this is easy...?  Anyhow, I'm sleeping in my AUC sweatshirt tonight.

j.a.

(happy) valentine's day

Again I could not resist myself with this beautiful movie, Un Homme et Une Femme.  The song played is "plus fort que nous" by Francis Lai.

For Valentine's day this year, Claude Lelouch, the director of Un Homme et Une Femme, returned to Deauville where he filmed Anouk Aimée and Jean-Louis Trintignant fall in love in 1966.  This time he filmed thousands of couples on the Deauville beach as they ran to each other to embrace et embrasser!  The result is a crazy and charming little hommage à l'amour.  You can find the article by clicking here - to see the film, click on the red "video" icon below the photograph and select the video called "s'embrasser devant la caméra de Lelouch."

j.a.

la trattoria

La Trattoria is one of Cairo's best restaurants.  It's on 13 El-Maraashli St., which is right around the corner from 37A Ahmed Heshmat (my old apartment) - lucky me.

Strangely enough, this picture is taken from Omar Sharif's favourite table. You can often see him dining there, and I have had the pleasure of sharing drinks with this wonderful, elegant gentleman numerous times because of mutual friends.  The first time I met him was at the bar in November 2008; and was again introduced to him when I got to know the owners of the restaurant and their friends again in October 2009.  Needless to say, La Trattoria is a relaxing place with good food and a fine selection of "under-the-table" imported wines.

I miss the kind, humorous waiters there, and the elegance that few people know how to preserve in a post-revolution Egypt...

If you love Doctor Zhivago (and Mr. Sharif) as much as I do, watch out for my next post...

back to buenos aires

Nostalgic video by Federico Aubele, Argentinian musician with a sometimes tango twist - I remember dancing to his song "Pena" in Cairo.

This is "La Esquina," from his first album Panamericana:

Gold, melancholy: los recuerdos del ayer.

j.a.