Laid Over

Sometimes, the Tour Gods have a very twisted sense of humor...

My nightlight.

The blessing in disguise? I had the whole row to myself on that 6:20 a.m. flight!

We made it here to the Laguna Beach Marriott around 9:30 this morning...late for everything, but fortunately with enough time to get ready for our short performances this afternoon. 

Back to the third set of our General Mills corporate gig!

Saskatchewan

We've spent the last two days putting in some lengthy drives across Saskatchewan for performances in Kindersley and Moose Jaw.

This is the province where, according to Dave and general Canadian wisdom, "you can watch your dog run away for three days."

It--quite literally--looked like this for hours on end:

Which got me thinking...if those drives were the text of this blog post, then they would look something like this:































                         [hill]


























                                                                                   [trees]
                                                                                         [farm]
                                                                                      [trees]




























































                     [another car]








































































                                                  [hill]


















































































[farm]
      [cows]
   [trees]




































































                                                                                               [hill]




                                                                                                        [hill]



































































                                                                                                                         [trees]
                                                                                                                                          [farm]








                                                                          [wheat field]
                                                                                   [grain elevator]

Mexico: Parte Uno

The excitement of four full days in Mexico was apparently too much for my body to process. I came down with some sort of bug earlier this week, making Monday's 6 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. travel day among the worst days of tour I've had. Fortunately, I'm finally over whatever it was I had; unfortunately, I may be responsible for passing it onto Hidayat, who has been in worse shape than I the past few days. That tends to happen, though, when you travel with the same people all of the time.

I love going down to Mexico (or anywhere south of the border) because it means I get to practice my Spanish. It's funny, though, how it really does take time for one's mind to adjust for hearing and speaking in a different language. As I went through customs, a woman asked me in Spanish if I spoke Spanish. Feeling more confident than the average foreign visitor, I responded, "Sí, un poquito." (Yes, a little bit.) I had forgotten, however, that when you respond in Spanish as a foreigner, the speaker usually assumes you are fluent and charges on full steam ahead. I had basically no idea what she proceeded to say, but gathered from certain words and context clues (i.e., passport, airport, customs, suitcases) that she wanted to know who I was and what was in my bags. I feebly stitched together some Spanish words that probably communicated nothing of consequence: "Soy en una banda...mi equipaje...ropa...violín..." (I'm in a band...my luggage...clothes...violin...). I guess it's not surprising that they wanted to fully search my luggage.

One of many awesome interactions to come was at the Starbucks in the Guadalajara airport. I successfully navigated the entire drink ordering process in Spanish with the barista, only to get caught up with my name. If you speak Spanish, you'll know that there aren't really any names similar to Taylor in the Spanish language. She stared at me blankly, chuckled, and slowly repeated my name as we simultaneously realized it's difficulty.

"...Tay-lor?" 

I could tell she was feeling awkward about having to write my confusing name on the cup, so I jokingly suggested a much easier alternative:

José.

She laughed as she wrote José on the cup with ease, fully appreciating the joys of language barriers. It was a pretty awesome moment.

This leads to one final point I'd like to make about speaking Spanish in Mexico (and other Central American countries which I've visited): Latinos possess a genuine appreciation for any attempt you make, as a foreigner, to speak the language. 

Some of the Canadians who speak French have had really negative experiences speaking French in France, because they find there is an attitude which seems to indicate, "No matter how good your French is, you're still never going to speak it as well as I do." While I haven't personally experienced that attitude when I've been in France (maybe it has to do with how much French you know and attempt to use?), neither I, nor the rest of the band (to my knowledge), have encountered that attitude with Latinos. Even if you mess up your words, they laugh with you, not at you, and often help to clarify any mistakes you make.

That sort of attitude toward dealing with second languages really makes being in Mexico an absolute blast. It's just so much fun to be there!

-----

After a quick press conference in the morning...

...and some awesome tamales bought from a street vendor for lunch...

...we went to this awesome theatre in Jerez for our first performance!

Outside the theatre.
L to R: Kristina, Kiana, and Lindy.

L to R: Me, Kristina, Kiana, Lindy, and Daniel.

I've got a whole bunch of pictures from our afternoon in Zacatecas that I'll try to get up in the next day or so.

But, for now, off to our show in Kindersley, Saskatchewan!