Baja California, São Paulo, Brazil, little towns along the Tapajós and Amazon Rivers in the Amazon, Belem, Pará, Pium, Rio Grande do Norte, Brazil, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, towns along the coast in the Northeast of Brazil, Lyon, France, Domodosola, Italy, D.F. Mexico, Robert's Creek, Canada, New York, New York
Working with youth all over the globe doing mural projects, music projects, documenting traditional cultures, aesthetic ethnography projects, bringing technologies for communities to document their own traditions, writing, playing music is the fuel that keeps me traveling and learning from people all over the world. Living the good vibes of positive exchange. I play the flute and am in a jazzy-roots band that plays Brazilian Northeastern music, and am studying the work of Brazilian geniuses like Pixinguinha and other composers of Chorinho, as well as traditional bamboo flute and rabeca (fiddle).
Yes, I saw bossa nova and loved it as well. P.S. I love the quarters... Oh joy to whimsical. Yes, it is hot here, but we are in the Northeast and so it is dry dry dry dry dry stick crackle dry. When I went to Mossoró I felt I had arrived in El Centro, the town of my birth, in the California desert, on the border with Mexicali where my tia had relatives and would take us to rousing quinciñeros, bodas and the like...to my joy there were always guitars...
Oh how envious I am, don't you love that brasilian climate. I've never been there, but my imagination is swift to indulge... all the warmth and humidity. Lucky for us we have copious pg&e power and heated nightclubs where bart davenport gets all honeycut on the mic. Plus there is plenty of hot tea. Have you seen the film bossa nova? It's simply delightful.
I'm gluing quarters all around the side of my guitar and who the heck knows why. Brasil... Whistles: now that's where it's at.
The darkest, stickiest, richest mud in the universe squeezes through our toes as thousands of fiddler crabs scatter from burrows, to obscure destinations, as we come ashore. Smoke from the wood fire of the fish camp carries the smell of roasting corn. As we approach, two young fishermen in front...
The darkest, stickiest, richest mud in the universe squeezes through our toes as thousands of fiddler crabs scatter from burrows, to obscure destinations, as we come ashore. Smoke from the wood fire of the fish camp carries the smell of roasting corn. As we approach, two young fishermen in front...
I don't know how many traveling moms or dads--single or otherwise--there are in the group, but just in case, here are my tips for traveling with a teen. The operative word here is 'A', because teens NEED other teens, so if your traveling with just one, here are some good ideas...
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