some glimpses from my first time at womad singapore, one of marlon's yearly musts.
as someone whose itunes player at work is permanently set to "stuff in a strange language", i went mad over womad. not only were the acts spectacular and well-chosen (all of them with a noticeable crossover/mainstream appeal), but it was great to just dance barefoot on the grass with such reckless abandon.
that said, i had the overwhelming impression that attendance for the caucasian expat community was being checked at the gates. kung gusto mo mamingwit ng poreyner, ay nako day, doon ka. (what am i saying? in singapore, i'm a foreigner too!)
posers not welcome
there was sort of a uniform: pretty ethnic-print dresses, chunky exotic-looking accessories and various skin-baring tops for the women, and cargo shorts and tsinelas for the men. once in a while we would spotpretentious valiant souls who defied the mold.
"look, sweetie, a poser lost in the crowd!" i pointed out to marlon, as one girl tottered around the muddy, blanket-strewn field on four-inch, pointy-toed stilettos, tugging at her painted-on miniskirt to keep from being boso-ed by everyone who was sitting at thigh level, ironed hair frizzing and sticking to her neck, clutching a teeny evening bag, and wiping at her quickly melting rampa face. a curly-haired, middle aged indian lady beside us whipped her head around to look at me, then let out a hearty laugh. "you said it, honey!" she chortled gleefully.
personal picks
we didn't get to catch all the featured musicians, but i personally loved the mahotella queens, legendary singers from south africa with full, powerful voices. like the sixty-something grannies they were, they would dispense advice between songs: "get up at five o'clock in the morning to make tea for your husband. that's love!" loved them live (i swear, these grannies can shake better booty than me!), but rather not enough to hunt down a cd.
classically-trained david d'or from israel has a gorgeous tenor that would make any filipino chorister weep -- not to mention a stunning resemblance to matthew perry. (he's got a fabulous backup band too. loved the violinist.) he asked everyone to link hands and dance in a circle, shouting "a jewish dance!" the 101 attempts and individual interpretations of "jewish dance" that ensued all over the field were hilarious. (how would you dance jewishly?)
and daara j! they made me i realize just what a huge fan of hip-hop i am, have been and will probably always be. marlon and i were eating indian dinner off paper plates when they started performing. midway into their first number, i was possesed by the urge to dance -- so i scarfed down a few bites, chucked what was left of dinner into a garbage bin and sprinted to the front of the stage, yelling "let's go! let's go!"
not only did they make me (and a couple hundred people) dance like loons for the greater part of two hours (picture an entire field going "two steps to the left! two steps to the right!"), but they made me an instant fan. and their stand is truly inspiring: that hip-hop ("born in africa, raised in the u.s.") is education, not gangsta rap. awesome. now all i have to do is make a friend or two from senegal, so i can buy their cds.
that said, i had the overwhelming impression that attendance for the caucasian expat community was being checked at the gates. kung gusto mo mamingwit ng poreyner, ay nako day, doon ka. (what am i saying? in singapore, i'm a foreigner too!)
posers not welcome
there was sort of a uniform: pretty ethnic-print dresses, chunky exotic-looking accessories and various skin-baring tops for the women, and cargo shorts and tsinelas for the men. once in a while we would spot
"look, sweetie, a poser lost in the crowd!" i pointed out to marlon, as one girl tottered around the muddy, blanket-strewn field on four-inch, pointy-toed stilettos, tugging at her painted-on miniskirt to keep from being boso-ed by everyone who was sitting at thigh level, ironed hair frizzing and sticking to her neck, clutching a teeny evening bag, and wiping at her quickly melting rampa face. a curly-haired, middle aged indian lady beside us whipped her head around to look at me, then let out a hearty laugh. "you said it, honey!" she chortled gleefully.
personal picks
we didn't get to catch all the featured musicians, but i personally loved the mahotella queens, legendary singers from south africa with full, powerful voices. like the sixty-something grannies they were, they would dispense advice between songs: "get up at five o'clock in the morning to make tea for your husband. that's love!" loved them live (i swear, these grannies can shake better booty than me!), but rather not enough to hunt down a cd.classically-trained david d'or from israel has a gorgeous tenor that would make any filipino chorister weep -- not to mention a stunning resemblance to matthew perry. (he's got a fabulous backup band too. loved the violinist.) he asked everyone to link hands and dance in a circle, shouting "a jewish dance!" the 101 attempts and individual interpretations of "jewish dance" that ensued all over the field were hilarious. (how would you dance jewishly?)
and daara j! they made me i realize just what a huge fan of hip-hop i am, have been and will probably always be. marlon and i were eating indian dinner off paper plates when they started performing. midway into their first number, i was possesed by the urge to dance -- so i scarfed down a few bites, chucked what was left of dinner into a garbage bin and sprinted to the front of the stage, yelling "let's go! let's go!"not only did they make me (and a couple hundred people) dance like loons for the greater part of two hours (picture an entire field going "two steps to the left! two steps to the right!"), but they made me an instant fan. and their stand is truly inspiring: that hip-hop ("born in africa, raised in the u.s.") is education, not gangsta rap. awesome. now all i have to do is make a friend or two from senegal, so i can buy their cds.
ending with a bang
the finale was brilliant -- in the succinct filipino turn of phrase, nag-jamming sila. sinong sila? one musician from just about every group that performed that weekend. another tagalog term that fits perfectly: labo-labo. at one point i counted musicians from seven different countries onstage, playing at the same time, all making it up as they went along.
the finale was brilliant -- in the succinct filipino turn of phrase, nag-jamming sila. sinong sila? one musician from just about every group that performed that weekend. another tagalog term that fits perfectly: labo-labo. at one point i counted musicians from seven different countries onstage, playing at the same time, all making it up as they went along. some permutations: a scottish fiddler and a tuareg percussionist. a dhol drummer from the uk, a senegalese dj and an israeli pop divo. a south african granny with lungs of steel and an iranian... er, man playing some instrument i can't even name (clad in nothing but a knee-length sarong, no less). it was mind-blowing. and it sure looked like sh*tloads of fun for the musicians.
ironically, the only cd i bought was of an act that i didn't catch -- the dhol foundation. their founder, johnny kalsi, directed the finale -- when he stepped onto the stage with his giant drum, brit accent and fancy duds, i knew we were going to see a great finale. and there was one part when it was just the fiddler from shooglenifty, and johnny kalsi punched right in with his drumming -- the music suddenly became so alive, so electrified at that moment, that i knew i had to get a dhol foundation cd before the night was over. (i did. i love it by the way.)
other acts we caught: youssou n'dour (senegal), shooglenifty (scotland), clube do balanco (brazil).
ironically, the only cd i bought was of an act that i didn't catch -- the dhol foundation. their founder, johnny kalsi, directed the finale -- when he stepped onto the stage with his giant drum, brit accent and fancy duds, i knew we were going to see a great finale. and there was one part when it was just the fiddler from shooglenifty, and johnny kalsi punched right in with his drumming -- the music suddenly became so alive, so electrified at that moment, that i knew i had to get a dhol foundation cd before the night was over. (i did. i love it by the way.)
other acts we caught: youssou n'dour (senegal), shooglenifty (scotland), clube do balanco (brazil).
the gray neon?
the purple ultragirl?
the white scarfun? (also comes in beige, peach, mint and black --- ahh hell knowing me i'll get a pair in black. black shoes are my weakness) 
or the red lace glam? decisions decisions!
welcome sight # 1: my room at the boracay beach resort. 
while i pretty much watched, chatted, looked over some of the clothes, and ogled various boys pointed out to me by a woman more than twice my age and in better shape than me. i played photographer, too.
welcome sight # 2: teams practicing for the dragonboat races that weekend. 
score one for the hype.
my first pair of havaianas. i totally get the addiction now -- which is not to say that i actually have an addiction of my own
welcome sight # 3: care ko sa girls?
work it! work it!
