Beijinhos do Brasil

August 19, 2010

B and I were sipping our drinks and speculating on the opening act, debating whether the gangly character with dark shades slinking across the stage was the man himself or not. He piped along on a gleaming silver flute, and not a second after deciding it was not him, a blazer-sleeved arm picked up the microphone and familiar sultry tones filled the room, greeted by wild screams.

Oh.

We quickly realized our error and sheepishly attempted to mask our embarrassment over the fact that we had come to a show and had failed to recognize the main act.

Regardless, this has been a solid year for concerts. Seu Jorge was another artist I thought I would have to wait for a trip abroad to see perform live. Though I may as well have been traveling. It felt like the entire country of Brazil was packed into the medium-big Belly Up (a sweet venue that offers quite the array of seating/standing choices). I scarcely heard a word of English the entire evening and everyone was dancing so suggestively. In short, it was heaven.

Although the initial mistake may indicate the contrary, Seu Jorge and I are old pals who go way back. It was the summer of young like (because it wasn’t quite love yet). B had just returned from Malawi and I was literally days away from transplanting my life in another country halfway around the world. Go figure.

During our desperate (but only secretly) endeavor to cram in the next year’s worth of time together in three days, B played me the Brazilian version of Damien Rice’s Blower’s Daughter. I was immediately captivated by Seu Jorge’s voice accented by the mellifluous vocal stylings of Ana Carolina.

I may or may not have had the song on repeat the entire 19-hour transatlantic flight to Sevilla.

Seu Jorge also got me through my first bout of Spanish homesickness (and every ensuing bout, for that matter). He serenaded me while I roasted on the shore of Playa de la Caleta. He livened up my journaling sessions at the outdoor cafe in Plaza Mina. And he established himself as the foremost soundtrack to my wonderfully spent month in Southern Spain. To this day, when certain songs come on, I can still picture my tiny Cadiz room, the blue-trimmed bed frame, the solitary shower with no walls, and even the exact, crisp temperature of the AC.

And the horrifying moment when I discovered that Ana Carolina was in fact a woman and not the really hot Brazilian male I expected (the voice was just so deliciously smooth and masculine!). But I digress.

Seeing Seu Jorge in San Diego was in effect seeing a part of my life come full circle. Nearly three and a half years have passed, and hearing his funkmaster tunes and seven song-long encore (I know, it was awesome) in real person was a huge reminder just how rich life was and how it has only gotten better with time.

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One Response to “Beijinhos do Brasil”

  1. Carla Says:

    Lauren, I love reading your posts & this one makes me reminisce all the more about being abroad. Gah!

    When are you leaving for your Latin American adventure?


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