songs for the road

Songs for the Road No. 17: The Blues and Contentment in Berlin

by Ekua on March 16, 2012 · 8 comments in eats and drinks,Germany,solo travel,songs for the road

The cloud infused evening sunlight gives the city a golden glow and the gracefulness of dusk prophesizes the night’s mood. I walk across the Oberbaum Bridge from Friedrichshain to Kreuzberg where huge murals by Blu welcome me to the neighborhood.

This is my first time crossing into what used to be the former West Berlin. It has an appearance that is slightly more what I would have expected of a German city, except with more accents of grittiness. Architecture is important in this city. Even if you loose track of the Berlin Wall, the look of the buildings around you can often tell you where it once was.

I walk the streets of a lively part of the neighborhood in search of a place to have dinner. I see a small Vietnamese restaurant that looks promising. The waitress wants to know if I mind sitting indoors. All of the tables outside are taken as people are enjoying the lingering hours of summer sunshine after all that rain. Inside the restaurant, the windows are wide, candles are lit, and they are playing music by Nina Simone. I tell her I don’t mind sitting inside.

I enjoy the solitude and the promise of more compelling places to explore. I like the way the restaurant is illuminated by evening sun and candlelight. I have a delicious bowl of soup and a glass of wine. I have a good book to read. And I’m listening to Nina Simone sing the blues in her raw, masterful way that transforms bitter to sweet.

On this night, the little things have combined so perfectly and I’m indulging in it fully. Right now I exist only in this simple, perfect moment.

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Songs for the Road No. 16: Highlife Brings Me Home

by Ekua on March 6, 2012 · 6 comments in Ghana,race/culture/identity,songs for the road

When you’re the daughter of immigrants and when you move around a lot as a kid, the idea of “home” can be an elusive thing. It’s not necessarily a stationary location. Home is where you create it or maybe a state of mind. But still, your deepest roots can remain in one place.

I remember when I was 17, visiting Ghana for the first time in a decade and a half; the first time I was old enough to almost grasp the magnitude of it. I remember how foreign it felt at times, and yet there was this underlying beautiful feeling that I was home.

We’d get caught up in markets and streets that were crowded beyond belief. We’d leave the city for a dense tropical landscape I had yet to see before visiting Ghana. The heftiest rain I’d ever experienced would pelt us for an hour before the clouds made way for brilliant sunshine. Rules seemed to be at the discretion of whoever happened to be enforcing them at the moment. Cars made their own lanes and pedestrians walked everywhere but on the crosswalk. The little old women in the village sung and danced around us and all claimed to be an aunt or grandma though few were actually related to us.

How far it was from the places I’d grown up in and how much the culture toyed with my comfort zone. Yet how much it feels like I am created of that place and in some indiscernible way, it will always be home.

Highlife music is my Ghana away from Ghana. The syncopated and improvised drum beats take me to the hectic streets; chaotic but rhythmic. The steady melody of the guitars and familiar chord progressions surround me with thick tropical air and sea breezes and vivid textiles. The lyrics lead me back to a past of struggle and continued struggle that always intermingles with an ability to look on the bright side and celebrate. Highlife’s musical influences from beyond Ghana like calypso, Cuban son, and  jazz speak of leaving the continent, being altered, and eventually returning  to create something unique. Highlife music takes me through my history and never fails to bring me home.

I was inspired to write this post because today is an important day in Ghana. 55 years ago, on March 6, 1957, Ghana became the first Sub-Saharan African country to gain independence. This song, “Ghana Freedom” by E.T. Mensah, was created especially for that day.

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Songs for the Road No. 15: Love and Cumbia in Mexico City

by Ekua on February 14, 2012 · 4 comments in Mexico,songs for the road,why i travel

That night, the air was thick with celebration and imminent rain. It was clear that the festive atmosphere would stand its ground despite the upcoming storm.

Earlier that evening, Mexico had won the Under 17 World Cup Games that the country had been hosting that summer. In the final moments of the last match, the classy Coyoacan restaurant bar we were watching it at momentarily transformed into a rowdy sports bar. Some of the men climbed onto the bar counter, tore off their shirts, and swung them around in joy. It certainly could not compare to an official World Cup win, but it was kind of like a celebration of the future’s potential.

And our little group, most of us Mexico-philes, were keen to participate. When the game crowd died down, we moved toward the Coyoacan neighborhood center, where streets that were lined with vendors and full of residents led to the central plazas. There, you could find practically any unhealthy night time snack you were looking for, and we went for the churros.

When the rain came, we followed the sounds of cumbia to a tent where a live band was performing. Under the tent was a gathering of all ages and genres, unified by the love of a country’s timeless songs.

When the band played this song, everyone got up to dance. The teenage hippie couple with poorly made dreadlocks danced. A drunk guy with bare feet, a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and dirty cut off jeans danced. Other people danced in a circle around him, clapping to the rhythm. The group of twenty-something hipsters dance. A family of three danced in a trio, the father taking turns spinning his wife and then his daughter.

And then the band moved on to a ballad. The pace slowed down, but the liveliness remained.  A small old man near the stage wearing a shiny gold shirt and a white cowboy hat pulled off his flashy outfit as he moved gracefully to the song with his partner. As another older couple danced, the husband reinforced the romantic lyrics by singing them emphatically to his wife. The two adults in the family of three decided to dance to this song as a duet. The little girl didn’t seem to mind being on her own for a bit. She twirled around the dance floor like a ballerina.

That rainy night, that tent housed a supreme kind of beauty. You could see it in the passion for the music and the dances that go with them. You could find it in the tolerance of the quirkiness and self-expression of members of the community and beyond. And most of all, there was beauty in the love, the palpable and all-encompassing love.

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