Tú no tienes la culpa mi amor
Que el mundo sea tan feo
Tú no tienes la culpa mi amor
De tanto tiroteo
Vas por la calle llorando
Lágrimas de oro
Vas por la calle brotando
Lágrimas de oro
It's not your fault, my love,
How ugly the world is
It's not your fault, my love,
All this fighting
You walk the street crying
Tears of gold,
You walk the street sowing
Tears of gold
How ugly the world is
It's not your fault, my love,
All this fighting
You walk the street crying
Tears of gold,
You walk the street sowing
Tears of gold
(Lágrimas de oro / Manu Chao)
The salsa bar El Coyote is one of the prominent institutions in the not exactly happening night life of the Emperial Capita
l. I was brought there on my second night in Japan, and recently have been going there quite a lot, learning very little salsa skills, but enjoying the opportunity to observe the crowd this place attracts, whose story I will attempt to tell here.
Now, I am not talking about the beautiful, elegantly dressed Japanese ladies, or the gentlemen, who compensate their unfortunate lack of physique by pretty damn good dancing skills. With all my respect to the citizens of Kyoto, who master this foreign dance so surprisingly well and prove a lot of anthropological theories wrong by the swing of their hips, this is not their story.
Nor do I wish to speak of the true Latino residents, who might have not been considered that hot back home, but sure feel like virtuous salsero here, and who must suffer the ignorance of all Japanese and foreigners who think everyone in any South American country (that is if they know there's more than one) dance salsa all day long.
I'm not even dealing with the weird cases like yours truly, who, due to some distortion in their own cultural identity, are made extremely happy by a single word of Spanish, specially one attached to a tune. No, I'm talking about your average gaijins, the gypsies of Kyoto, for whom this twice foreign place somehow became the sanest way to spend Friday evening.
I see them at the overcrowded tables in the dark, exploring the drink menu at the bar or standing in colorful lines for th
e salsa lesson. Some ridiculously young and ridiculously blond, others look rather worn out by either studies or partying too much. And then ofcourse there is my little bunch, inevitably taking over the dance floor performing...hm...very free interpretations of the original dance. The alcohol levels might vary among the above, but all very determined to enjoy the evening and leave the week behind them.
It would be a huge lie to say we foreign students don't have it good here. We have lots of fun and for the most lead a much more interesting life than we would be at home, specially since many of us pretty much sacrificed the last few years back home for the chance to get here. But, although it's almost impossible to understand it without experiencing - our gypsy life is not that simple, and I can see that when I look at the drinking and dancing crowd around me.
They are having troubles with the Japanese language morning day and night - each one on his own level - whether you're trying to write a research, open an account or order food in a restaurant - the devil's language is there to get you. They are often less than thrilled with the behavior of the locals, or with the local cuisine, fashion and weather, but that's never the real problem. The thing is - when you arrive here alone, all stripped of your familiar reality, even if it was your dream - it's a human instinct to try and fill the void. As a result you sometimes let people into your life before studying them well enough, or try to build your new reality too fast, without providing it a solid base, which leads to possible accidents. Also, your old life never really leaves you - you miss it if you're lucky, or are haunted by its demons if you're not. New people and situations inevitably bring you face to face with yourself. And there - well, you tell me, providing you've gone through the soul searching and done blaming others- what is your personal handicap? Perfectionism that makes every little mistake into a huge failure? Low self esteem that makes u feel so unworthy you avoid anything worthwhile? Past hurts that don't allow you to trust or be trusted? Or, if you want to borrow one of mine - the painful inability to except the fact some things can't be changed or helped.
But then, just as those black holes open on your path it is important not to ignore the positive surprises this experience sends your way. Like meeting across the ocean someone who understands yo
u and excepts you the way you are. Or finding out you're not as anti-social as you used to think, and much stronger. And if you're lucky - find in your darkest hours the chance to improve yourself, or at least new little ways to make yourself feel better .
"Ay, why crying" - sings Celia Cruz, in a song familiar to most from the movie "Love bites (Amores Perros)", and to me because i was trying to download a completely different song featuring love and dogs - "Life is a carnival". And as much as you want to protest against it at that moment, then you think, hey, I'm dancing, guess I'm not that depressed after all.
And as you leave El Coyote hastily to catch the last train, all your troubles and worries remain there they were, but the little scoreboard says you spent one more day of your life celebrating it. And when you're back in your far away corner of the world, these are the things you will remember.
l. I was brought there on my second night in Japan, and recently have been going there quite a lot, learning very little salsa skills, but enjoying the opportunity to observe the crowd this place attracts, whose story I will attempt to tell here.Now, I am not talking about the beautiful, elegantly dressed Japanese ladies, or the gentlemen, who compensate their unfortunate lack of physique by pretty damn good dancing skills. With all my respect to the citizens of Kyoto, who master this foreign dance so surprisingly well and prove a lot of anthropological theories wrong by the swing of their hips, this is not their story.
Nor do I wish to speak of the true Latino residents, who might have not been considered that hot back home, but sure feel like virtuous salsero here, and who must suffer the ignorance of all Japanese and foreigners who think everyone in any South American country (that is if they know there's more than one) dance salsa all day long.
I'm not even dealing with the weird cases like yours truly, who, due to some distortion in their own cultural identity, are made extremely happy by a single word of Spanish, specially one attached to a tune. No, I'm talking about your average gaijins, the gypsies of Kyoto, for whom this twice foreign place somehow became the sanest way to spend Friday evening.
I see them at the overcrowded tables in the dark, exploring the drink menu at the bar or standing in colorful lines for th
e salsa lesson. Some ridiculously young and ridiculously blond, others look rather worn out by either studies or partying too much. And then ofcourse there is my little bunch, inevitably taking over the dance floor performing...hm...very free interpretations of the original dance. The alcohol levels might vary among the above, but all very determined to enjoy the evening and leave the week behind them.It would be a huge lie to say we foreign students don't have it good here. We have lots of fun and for the most lead a much more interesting life than we would be at home, specially since many of us pretty much sacrificed the last few years back home for the chance to get here. But, although it's almost impossible to understand it without experiencing - our gypsy life is not that simple, and I can see that when I look at the drinking and dancing crowd around me.
They are having troubles with the Japanese language morning day and night - each one on his own level - whether you're trying to write a research, open an account or order food in a restaurant - the devil's language is there to get you. They are often less than thrilled with the behavior of the locals, or with the local cuisine, fashion and weather, but that's never the real problem. The thing is - when you arrive here alone, all stripped of your familiar reality, even if it was your dream - it's a human instinct to try and fill the void. As a result you sometimes let people into your life before studying them well enough, or try to build your new reality too fast, without providing it a solid base, which leads to possible accidents. Also, your old life never really leaves you - you miss it if you're lucky, or are haunted by its demons if you're not. New people and situations inevitably bring you face to face with yourself. And there - well, you tell me, providing you've gone through the soul searching and done blaming others- what is your personal handicap? Perfectionism that makes every little mistake into a huge failure? Low self esteem that makes u feel so unworthy you avoid anything worthwhile? Past hurts that don't allow you to trust or be trusted? Or, if you want to borrow one of mine - the painful inability to except the fact some things can't be changed or helped.
But then, just as those black holes open on your path it is important not to ignore the positive surprises this experience sends your way. Like meeting across the ocean someone who understands yo
u and excepts you the way you are. Or finding out you're not as anti-social as you used to think, and much stronger. And if you're lucky - find in your darkest hours the chance to improve yourself, or at least new little ways to make yourself feel better ."Ay, why crying" - sings Celia Cruz, in a song familiar to most from the movie "Love bites (Amores Perros)", and to me because i was trying to download a completely different song featuring love and dogs - "Life is a carnival". And as much as you want to protest against it at that moment, then you think, hey, I'm dancing, guess I'm not that depressed after all.
And as you leave El Coyote hastily to catch the last train, all your troubles and worries remain there they were, but the little scoreboard says you spent one more day of your life celebrating it. And when you're back in your far away corner of the world, these are the things you will remember.
