...und es klang, als wäre er seiner Katze auf den Schwanz getreten. Mehrmals. Im 4/4-Takt.

Diese Gedanken hatte ich gestern, als wir hier bei der großen Konferenz in Cuiabá zusammen zu Abend gegessen haben und dabei einer Live Band lauschen durften.
Der Klang jedoch ist beabsichtigt. Es nennt sich Sertanejo und ist die lokale und hier in der Gegend erfolgreichste Musikrichtung.

Wer sich darunter noch nichts vorstellen kann: Es ist lokale Volksmusik. Ein recht fröhlicher Beat eigentlich. Aber jammrigre Texte. Xavier Naidoo fällt mir dazu ein; und auch Florian Silbereisen. Ja, so in etwa. Es klingt wie Xavier Naidoo klingen würde, würde er zusammen mit Marianne und Michael (Akkordeon und Gitarre) bei Florian Silbereisens Volksmusikantenstadl-zdf-rentner-hitparade auftreten. "Diese Trennung wird keine leichte sein, diese Trennung wird steinig und schwer... drum' loss uns oardentli oan uffn grill lega un kräftig oan trinkn"...

Zwei Männer, zwei Gitarren. Einer kann spielen und macht die komplizierten Parts oder nimmt auch mal das Akkordeon zur Hand, der andere streicht nur hin und wieder mal über die Seiten und singt dafür. Sie grinsen. Grinsen in die Runde. Warten das endlich jemand tanzt, aber ich bin die einzige Frau unter 38 Männern und wenn es jemand gibt der in dieser Musik keinen tanzbaren Rhythmus findet, dann bin das ganz sicher ich.
Meine Kollegen grölen die Texte mit, sie kennen sie alle, freuen sich wenn sie auch mal ins Mikro jaulen dürfen.
"Du wirst schon noch lernen diese Musik zu mögen" sagen sie mir. Sicher bin ich mir da nicht. Eigentlich will ich auch gar nicht lernen diese Musik zu mögen.

Doch dann wippt plötzlich mein Fuss im Takt. Nur ganz kurz. Ich schaudere, grusel mich fast ein bisschen vor mir selbst... Haben sie doch recht? Kann man "lernen" eine Musikrichtung zu mögen? Ich grinse auch. Mit dem Sänger um die Wette. Nein, ich glaube bisher hab ich noch nicht viel gelernt. Aber für den Anblick meines Chefs der aus voller Überzeugung und mit Inbrunst die traurigen Texte ins Mikrofon singt das er dem eigentlichen Sänger entwedet hat, wie er sich bei den langen Tönen nach hinten beugt und mit seinen Händen der Tragik ausdruck verleiht... Wie alle Kollegen mit singen, das Bier in der Hand... Dafür kann man gut auch mal Katzenjammer-Kammermusik ertragen.

Was für ein schöner Abend denke ich, nehme einen Schluck Bier, suche den Takt des Akkordeons und wippe nochmal kurz mit dem Fuss.

Chile! - Part 3: Concha y Toro Vineyard

On Monday I met with Franziska and Alastair early in the morning. Carlos and Consuelo had to work, so they could not join us for our vineyard tour at the Concha y Torre Vineyard, just 45 minutes out of Santiago’s City Center.

I met them in their hotel for breakfast, we put our luggage in storage and stopped a cab on the street. We were lucky. The driver accepted to drive us to the vineyard and back for a reasonable price and would wait there for us. Also, he was the funniest taxi driver I have ever met. He made the whole tour into a sightseeing tour, but not showing us the best sights of Santiago, but things like his old elementary school. He was laughing the whole time and even took some wrong turns and laughed about it.
In the end, we made it to Concha y Toro 5 minutes after our reserved tour was supposed to start, but we could still join. We decided to chose the big tour which involved more wine and a little introduction to how one recognizes good wine.
The tour itself was cute, but nothing to what I had remembered from the wine tasting tour my parents once did in France (with me and my sister following them around the wine cellar, totally impressed by what we saw (which was totally as described in Asterx in Rome) but not understanding anything the guide says nor being able to taste). We saw the wine barrels and learned about the differences of American oak and French oak, why it is lying in the cellar and that the old cellars are naturally cooled and with the optimal humidity, while the new ones above ground need to be constantly monitored. The oldest cellar of Concha y Toro is called “Casa de Diablo” as the legend tells that bottles were stolen from the cellar by employees, to which Don Melchior (founder of the vineyard) reacted by telling the people that the devil lived down there and that every month he came and took a bottle of the finest wine. The story made up was so powerful that the Christian and superstitious people that lived and worked on the vineyard got scared of that particular cellar and called it “Casa de Diablo”. No more bottles were stolen.
After the tour we had a wine tasting, where we were able to test 4 different wines of one of the top brands of Concha y Toro. Concha y Toro, being one of the biggest vineyards in the world with more than 8000ha, has many brands for all kinds of segments, prices and tastes. We tasted a Merlot, a Carmenère (Concha y Toros specialty), a Shiraz (Syrah), and a Cabernet Sauvignon. I liked them all but the Merlot, however, Carmenere and Shiraz were my favourites with the cheese and crackers we had. The really really good Cabernet would have been great if it had come with a heavy meal…
We learned about the colors, the smelling, taste and the way it sticks to the glass and I found it so interesting that I would do a wine course just to get to know more about it, but unfortunately, Goiania is not really the right place for it.
Our funny cab driver brought us back to the city center where we had a good lunch at a Peruvian restaurant with a cabernet sauvignon which allowed us to try out what we just had learned. We walked back to our hotel to pick up our luggage and stopped a cab to drive us to the airport. On the way we stopped at a wine store where Alastair and Franziska bought some wine and then we had to go to the airport quickly.
As always, lines were really long, and when it was really really time to check in I was 2nd in the line and one of the ladies from the counters came and started picking out people from behind me in the queue that had a flight that left 5 minutes before mine. I tried to talk to her, because out of a sudden there were ten or more people in front of me and my check-in was closing. She didn’t hear and so I started bitching at her in Spanish and finally she heard me. Franziska and Alastair who just needed to drop off baggage as they were able to check in online were already at the counter and made me signs to hurry, as it was closing (the lady told them they were lucky arriving 2 minutes before closure). So I just pushed the lady aside and went over to the counter where Franziska and Alastair were standing and checked in there. Of course the LAN-Airline girl wasn’t happy, but really: what do I care in that moment…

We had to fly a big detour over the Andes due to bad weather conditions and only got out of the airport with our luggage around 1:30am. My flight to Goiania would leave at 8am, so it really did not make any sense to go into the city to sleep on Franziskas couch and go back at 5am. Instead I took one of the free hotel transfer cars and slept in a very rundown, hostel like hotel in Guarulhos. But that was okay. At least I had some light hours of sleep (not much though, there was a very loud group of young, drunk, male Brazilians). I arrived in Goiânia on time and drove directly to the office. I was a little late, but noone noticed and I had had a really great weekend!

Chile! - Part 2: The Seaside

The next morning we got up early to go to the beach. Originally I had planned to go skiing with Franziska and her boyfriend, but the weather forecast predicted heavy snow and I figured this would not be the best surrounding to stand on (snow)skis for the first time in my life.
Driving out of the city was really nice and, again, looked a lot like south Germany / Switzerland… Unfortunately the view was blocked many times by clouds and rain. The street wound nicely through the mountains and after a while I saw the sea! The first time I see the sea on the other side of the equator happened to be in Chile!
We stopped in a small town where they had a few huts making a little market with fresh fish, sea food (among them the freshest scallops ever!) and some hand made clothing. It was really cute, but the most amazing part were the Pelicans that sat all around, waiting for some fish to fall off the tables.

We had lunch in a cute little restaurant by the sea, where I had an amazing dish with crab meat in a claypot and of course: Pisco Sour. Pisco Sour really advanced to one of my favourite drinks on that weekend.
The clouds slowly cleared and after lunch was over, one could see the coast line, and the town with its colored fisher boats and pretty houses built into the cliffs, still partlz hid in low clouds, gave a magical view.
I was so “awwww-ed” by the view, that I forgot to look on the ground and a view seconds later was lying on the same. My feet had gotten caught in a fishers net… Fortunately I was able to safe my camera by holding my arms up high, which, on the other hand, is anything what I have learned from falling as a child and protecting ONE SELF. Ah well, the knee shall shut up, the camera was saved…

We moved on along the coastline in order to reach Vina del Mar and Valparaíso, which by now can be considered twin cities.
Just before reaching Vina del Mar we passed a big rock, just off the cliff, where at least 50 sea lions were gathered with many young ones playing in the water. So cute! I could have watched forever! A little later I think I even saw some penguins…

In Valparaíso we parked the car and took a nice walk around the city. To get to the upper part, we took the “elevator” which reminded me of a San Francisco Cable car, but with a steeper slope.
The view across the city, which is a UNESCO World Heritage by the way, was very nice. Mountains and sea, and in between cute little houses in all kinds of colors, most of which reminding me of candy. Rose, baby blue, yellow, white, indigo… the list could be endless, really.

Back in Santiago we were really hungry and thus rushed into Consuelo’s favourite Pizza Place, with the best Pizza in town. It was crowded with young people but we were lucky to find a little table close to the wine display.
I had not reached Franziska the whole day, and as we overheard that there had been a big Avalanche across the road of the ski resort Franziska and Alastair wanted to go to, I got a little worried. Fortunately they had decided last minute that they rather take another, bigger tour of the city instead of skiing in the snow because 2 days later there were still around 1300 tourists trapped upon the mountain.