14 Days Later...

...I did not wake up in a deserted hospital to an empty city ravaged by hoards of flesh eating zombies, but instead arose from my two-week hiatus in Buenos Aires to return to the blogosphere! Digital flower petals are raining down my screen in celebration of my arrival as we speak, impeding my vision so much that I must brush them aside with my cursor. Mind you, no such pomp and circumstance accompanied my physical return to Argentina, even though Santiago and Ulises said they intended to make some sort of a sign welcoming me home. But, if Facebook has taught me nothing else, it's that we are all more popular on the internet than in real life, so I was happy with just a big hug from Julia instead.

First, a few words about my trip to the States. The three hour time difference without much sleep - and airplane sleep at that -, a greeting party comprised of GW hoodlums and GB rapscallions, and EXPENSIVE (I say this not to show that only drink expensive booze, but to express my genuine shock at how expensive a particular 6-pack of beer, albeit good beer, was in comparison to a liter of Quilmes. Gotta love New York.) libations made my near 30 hours in New York a whirlwhind of a good time. True to my word I stuffed my stomach with New York pizza, with a lunch of fried chicken doused in hot sauce to top it all off. I got back to Massachusetts just in time to catch a snowfall the next day and suffered through a week of freezing my ass off but loving being home, even getting the opportunity to see Hannah's basketball team play. The Bat Mitzvah weekend was also loads of fun - it was fantastic to see so many people who I had not seen in months, and in some cases more than a year's time. I even got a beach towel! And even better, the break between the service and the party afforded me the time to run into Wellsley to hang out with more friends and eat an expensive sandwich. All in all, it was a great trip home and I'm really glad I got the opportunity to do it.

Bring me your tired, your poor, and your hungry for extortionately priced beer.

Since I got back I've also done a good amount of fun and interesting things, here are some highlights:

Unable to watch March Madness on our television and in search of a festive atmosphere to view the games, Ted and I have ventured out to the previously mentioned El Alamo two times in one week for some good old (North) American fun - once for the first round games, once for some Sweet Sixteen action. Amongst the mostly forgettable cast of characters we encountered in our time there, we met a guy named Larry from DC who went to Pitt. In his presence we witnessed two Pitt wins, which was beneficial for me not only because I picked Pitt to win those games but because I'm guessing he would have been much less likely to humor me by talking about DC had Pitt lost. But as it was, I got in my fix of DC nostalgia and could move on with my day. Plus, we got to see some reasonably exciting basketball and drink beer without hemorrhaging money, which was awesome, too.

Speaking of basketball, one of the things I really wanted to do but neglected to mention in my last post was to play my sport of choice upon arriving back in the States. It had been 5 months since I last handled the rock and was definitely itching to get in some playing time. I tried going to the gym one day only to be confronted by a basketball court occupied by novice volleyball players. So besides hoisting a few shots in my driveway after the Bat Mitzvah, I failed in my quest for the Holy G. Surely enough, the very night I got back in Buenos Aires Ted told me of a pick-up game in Palermo he was heading to. Julia also decided to join us and we ended up spending the better part of the evening playing basketball, and besides the fact my game was quite rusty, it felt good to get out and run, and I will definitely try and do so again. The only discouraging aspect of the experience was how many fouls the Argentine players called. Any contact merited an immediate foul call, no matter how minor it may have been. A slight bump, foul. A clean strip, foul. I don't wish to extrapolate this tendency at all, just thought it was worth mentioning. Also worth mentioning: Julia scored a basket! I think she actually scored before I did, and I'm not the least bit ashamed to admit it - my girl is an athlete.

If I got any paler due to my trip up north, Frisbee has undoubtedly fixed that situation. I spent my entire first weekend and one day this past weekend in the hot hot sun playing Frisbee. The tournament two Sunday's ago left my face burnt and peeling, but I learned my lesson and applied generous quantities of sunscreen yesterday. Despite my beet-red face, t felt great to be back out on the field surrounded by familiar faces and the tournament locale was incredible. You'd never know Fall had begun in Buenos Aires as it's hot as ever in our fair city. Yesterday, for example, was 12 degrees hotter than average. Throw in a healthy dose of humidity and it made for some exhausting Frisbee yesterday, but good Frisbee nonetheless. Our roommates and some of my students have advised me these summer-like days will come to an end and that today's weather is actually a sign of Fall's impending arrival. But after looking at the 10-day forecast, I don't know how much I believe them, that is unless Fall means mid-eighties and scattered thunderstorms. Either way, I'm ready for the someone to remove the invisible incubator that is currently encompassing Buenos Aires, even if that means a little rain.

Last but not least, especially it's probably been THE highlight since I got back to Buenos Aires, I spent this past Saturday head banging to Iron Maiden with 42,000 others, most notably Julia, Jessica, Nick (the only true metal fan amongst us, but his love for metal more than covered our ignorance of the genre) and Jessica's family friends Peter and Prudence, the former of whom works with Iron Maiden's finances - he's so VIP they actually get to fly in the band's 747, which is co-piloted by the lead singer. It was by far the most unique concert experience I've ever had, mainly because it's the first HUGE production I've seen in any genre, much less in one so explosive and with such a rabid fan base. We got VIP treatment all day, including getting wisked away after the show in the band's caravan (let it be known I tried to find a clip of Van Morrison's "Caravan" from The Band's The Last Waltz, but could not find one. It would have been a great reference. Blast.) and even chatted it up with one particularly jovial band member over drinks while watching a tango show afterward in the Four Seasons Hotel (listen to me name drop, one day living the VIP lifestyle has changed me). I still don't really like metal music, but I guess I have a new appreciation for it. And I definitely got my face shredded off, just as Nick said I would. Julia wrote a very extensive post with photos/videos, many of which I took (my computer no longer imports photos from my iPhone or camera. It also quits any application if I try to attach anything. As you can see, my baby is on her last legs, but she keeps trucking.) and I admit I have yet to read it. Yet all it took was one positive review to convince me not to compete with it, so be sure to read her account of the concert. She's so much more prompt with these things, I suffer for her blog-updating gusto. But in the end, you all gain from it, so I can't wallow in self-pity...for too long. Or, I could emulate her ways and try to post more often. I guess I'll give that route another try, because, quite frankly, it feels good to be back!

Iron Maiden is Going to SHRED YOUR FACE OFF!!!!!!!!

Metalhead is a popular term for a devoted fan of heavy metal music.. Heavy metal fans exist in many countries beyond the United Kingdom and United States, where it first developed, especially in Japan, Scandinavia and Brazil and even Mexico, Central America, and the Caribbean. The long hair, leather jackets, and band patches of heavy metal fashion help to encourage a sense of identification within the subculture.

-Wikipedia

Meet Bruce Dickinson, a fifty-one year old man from Nottinghamshire, England, and the lead singer of Iron Maiden:

I know, I love the pants too

Or meet him as I did yesterday afternoon: salt and pepper hair, faded blue t-shirt that read "Some days you are the pigeon, some days you are the statue," faded pink salmon shorts that ended mid thigh, an old pair of sneakers and a nice disposition. I thought he was one of the crew. He talked with Jessica's family friends, Peter and Pru, for a good ten minutes about his target practice the day before and then wandered on to chat with more folks that were hanging around the back stage at the Quilmes Rock Festival on Saturday afternoon. After he left Peter commented that once Bruce starts talking about something he'll never stop. He almost sounded annoyed. Five minutes later the shock and awe left Nick's face long enough for him to tell me who that was.
So how did I end up in the exclusive back stage of a Heavy Metal concert? Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...
Pru met Tina (la madre de Jessica) when they were 17 years old. Pru married Peter, and 12 years ago Peter got a job as the accountant for Iron Maiden (the manager of the band is his long time college friend). This year, Iron Maiden embarked upon their 2008/9 Somewhere Back in Time Tour, and Peter and Pru arrived in Argentina before the band to do some sightseeing. They also brought pots of pesto and Marmite for Jessica, and of course an invitation to the Iron Maiden concert to which she could bring three friends. Nick, an Iron Maiden fanatic, was the first to get an official invitation, and Josh and followed by default since Jessica's list of Metal Head friends is pretty limited.
The day of the show arrived, and I just didn't know what to wear. Finding out that its all about black at Metal shows was a relief, so I donned my black tank dress, my Frye boots, a borrowed scarf from Jess, some homemade dangling earrings and I was ready to rock. We Subted it to the Four Seasons hotel where the band and their entourage were staying. As the door was opened for me a cool rush of air began to cool my overheating skin, and the marble lobby welcomed us with the smell of fresh flowers and elegance. We looked over our shoulders at the Maiden fans in the driveway (I think one might actually have taken our picture) and Josh and sighed a guilty sigh of someone getting to do something they really have no business doing but is about to take great pleasure in anyway. We met Pete and Pru in the bar where we refreshed with cold sodas and then hopped into our private van that took us directly to the arena. No hot, sweaty, long ass bus ride for us.
One at the stadium, we stuck on our blue guest stickers and ventured to the back.

Sticker on much loved camo shorts = nothing to stick to. Thankfully Jessica had a safety pin.

We hung out in the catering area drinking cold drinks and eating the surprisingly good Hallah they had out while waiting for the first set to begin.

Free beverages!!!
Nick = most excited fan
Pru and our extreme proximity to the dressing rooms

Lauren Harris, the daughter of Iron Maiden bassist Steve Harris, was warming up in her dressing room, and I was struck by how amazing her voice was. I was then schooled a bit on Heavy Metal music by Nick and Pete (who both know truckloads of things about the genre) and discovered that one of the most important things about this music is the extreme talent of the musicians. Well, you would have to have one hell of a voice box to compete with your accompaniment. According to Nick, her band was good, but nothing compared to Iron Maiden. "Iron Maiden is going to shred your face off," he informed me. We watched the set with the slowly growing crowd, and I observed my first large group of Metal Heads. For once, Nick really blended in.

Camo shorts + black t-shirt = uniform (and what Nick always wears)

The long hair, the black faded and much loved shirts, the tough looking girls in cut off t-shirts...I was transported back to a decade I can barely remember. It was amazing.
In between sets we returned to the backstage to chill while the crowd multiplied and grew more rowdy as the space grew more limited. We didn't see much of the Argentine bands (they were...REALLY heavy to say the least) and instead listened to the distant shouting from comfy sofas or from the tables set up for the band and crew while eating the free catering. Think Almost Famous and bandaids. Its the closest I'll ever get.

Red Carpet style next to a bucket of ice cold Quilmes cans

Then it was time. We were to watch the show from the sound desk, or for those not in on the lingo the control tower. However, in our absence, the last bits of space on the floor had disappeared with the sun's setting, and 42,000 people had arrived at the stadium to witness one of the greatest Heavy Metal bands of all times.

Very crowded

Seeing as the sound desk was in the middle of this tightly packed, sweaty mass of riled up metalheads, we had to use the isle down the middle of the crowd to get to our spots before the show started. We were taken there by a loud English man from the North. Beer in hand, I took a deep breath and began what felt like the never ending journey to the oasis in the middle of a...OK, well maybe I'm taking it too far, but the people sure were thirsty and hot, so the oasis metaphor seems a good one. The path was just wide enough so that if you carefully walked down the center the flailing arms on either side trying to grab you were just out of reach. The security was keeping the crowd barely under control and pulling people over the barrier to carry them out when necessary. People shouted WATER!!! in English as we walked past, and hollered louder than any truck driver as Jess and I passed by. At the same time, waves of human heat and smell came at us from either side as hands reached for us. It felt like a never ending gauntlet, and me, little old non-important me, has never had so many eyes on me at once. Scary. We were all relieved when we arrived at the sound deck and snuck to the back where we would be out of the way with the equipment cases with the best view ever of the stage: dead center with nothing to block our view.

Trippy photo of the sound board

The air was thick with anticipation, the crowd was getting rowdy, and the minutes ticked on until finally, at nine pm, the lights went out, and music started playing from the blackened stage. As the song ended, another one began, but this time there was a video of the band arriving by plane, their fans, and then footage from a WWII. To the sound of "We will never surrender!!""" and in a flash of pyrotechnics that black curtain came down and the stage was lit up in an explosion of light to reveal an amazingly detailed back drop of a mummy faced sphinx, a stage with a strong Egyptian theme, and the band with Bruce in the middle wearing the outfit in the picture above straddling two speakers. Man, did they put on a show and a half!!! With ever changing back drops, giant torn British flags, sarcophagi with red lights for eyes, hand banging, and a ridiculous amount of running around the stage while singing and playing the guitar with every ounce of energy in their bodies dedicated to making this the most rocking show ever. There were also many costume changes, including Bruce dressed up as the Grim Reaper. Amazing.

The show begins
Nick, well you can see how happy he was for yourself

For the end of the show they upped the decibel even more, and the giant head of a sarcophagus opened to reveal a giant mummy inside with unraveling bandages and waving arms.

My favorite guitarist (Yanick) started doing crazy things with his guitar: swinging it around, swinging it by the handle, and eventually he threw it not once, but two times at least twenty feet into the air and caught it both times as if he had done it everyday for his entire life. Maybe he has...There were more pyrotechnics than left me momentarily seeing only red, and ear blasting shreds. I reached up to my face to make sure it was still there. It wasn't. It had been shredded to pieces, and those pieces had been shredded again, just as Nick had predicted.
We left the show before the encore in preparation for our "run out" with the band. We were part of the four van caravan that left the arena the second the show ended in order to safely transport the band back to the Four Seasons before the crowd got out. We watched the encore on the little TVs in the van controlling the big screens, and then were rushed into a van and were whisked away.

Walking back through the gauntlet
Show no fear (even though inside the crowd is scaring me!!)
Video Van

We arrived back at the hotel, and emerged from our vans as Iron Maiden rushed into the hotel in sweet Iron Maiden dressing gowns. We followed and went straight to the bar where a Tango show was about to start. Thrust from one world to its opposite we sat at a table and watched Tango and waited to see if the band was going out. Sadly, two vodka gimlets and too many olives later it became clear that not much was happening due to the 7:45 wake up call, and seeing as Bruce had not invited us to get sushi with him we said our goodbyes to Pru and Peter, but not before Yanick joined us at our table, long hair down with three beers in his hand. "Well here's to obvlivion!" he cheered with his Brahma.
As the night ended we walked to the front of the hotel with Peter and Pru while thanking them profusely for the coolest night EVER. As soon as we had our last hugs goodbye the magic slowly faded away and we resumed our normal lives as paupers and caught the 152 bus back home, but we had our blue stickers and some amazing photos to prove it all happened.