Babs Blabs

SOUTH AFRICA Johannesburg aka Joburg

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Wed, 19 Apr 2017 23:35:00 +0000

Joburg

Whenever I travel I have to remind myself of where I am and where I’m not. In Martinique I had to remember that I wasn’t in France—well technically I was. In Cuba and parts of Colombia I had to remind myself that I was not in Africa. Now in South Africa I have to constantly tell myself that I am not in Europe. Yes, Europe with a lot more Black and ‘coloured’ faces.

Apartheid Museum

I arrived in South Africa via London to a rainy and ‘cold’ day—not what I call cold but what they feel is cold. I was tired and the 7 hour time difference did not help, so I slept, went out for pizza and slept some more. The next morning I felt refreshed and ready for some adventure. First stop, the Apartheid Museum.

The Apartheid Museum is a beautiful building filled with the most disturbing things. When you first come in you are given a white or non-white ticket and you enter the door of your ticket. This is more unsettling than you would think. As I learned the history of the “founding” of South Africa by whites, about the gold rush, the slaves brought in from Malaysia by the Dutch and India by the British, the Boer Wars, the land settlement and finally in 1948 apartheid I was shocked that I didn’t know nor was taught this world history. Then the look inside of apartheid and what it really meant and what it did to all the peoples of South Africa. I felt myself getting hot with anger and grief. Luckily it was a rainy day that helped cooled down my burning rage. There was also a few leaks in a section of the ceiling by the door and buckets were strategically place to catch the rain water as we maneuvered around then.

The pictures and video of apartheid from 1948 on was shocking. I’d never seen the videos of women, Black and white, in the 50’s fighting against wearing ID card. There was film of marches in 1955-56. I was surprised because I’d only ever seen bits of the late 1970’s student marches where they were attacked and killed. A lot of what I knew was from movies like BIKO starring Denzel Washington and other anti-apartheid movies---but these were no movies, this was real footage, real people fighting a corrupt, immoral system and dying on their feet. I was so pissed looking at it and kept thinking that they should all burn in hell.

I saw Mandela as a young man being asked about violence. It’s funny how the most violent people always want reassurance from those that they abuse that there will be no violent reaction from them. I saw Mandela growing older in jail and still being told to condemn any violence and he would be set free. It was all too much for me, but I finally reached a wall of monitors that showed Mandela being freed and all the celebrations around the world. Everyone cheering his release, celebrities, politicians, clergy, the common man. As I watched I felt water dropping down on me and looked up at the ceiling to see where it was coming from. Seeing nothing above me, I was shocked to realize that I was crying. No not crying but weeping uncontrollably. I never made it to the reconciliation part of the museum, it was late and it was just too much. I’ll have to go back again for that. It was also late in the day, the museum was closing and I was starving.

I met up with an artist friend and her young daughter at an Indian restaurant. The food was very good and the company was better. Afterwards they kidnapped me and took me to a musician’s studio where they worked out some music for her poetry. They were to perform it at a festival. What fun!

Lenin Vodka Bar

By now I need a drink. They drop me off and I meet up with a filmmaker friend at Lenin’s Vodka Bar in Maboneng, a hip fun gentrified area. He is teaching film and directing at the university and invites one of his co-workers who is also his writing partner to join us. She is a cool looking white female hipster. We have a great time drinking and smoking (they were smoking cigarettes) and talking film. We start talking about the aesthetics’ of African cinema. I talk about the beautiful African films I saw at the African Film Festival, FESPACO. She starts talking about Nollywood films and how they can make films quickly and cheaply and make a profit. I say they are like Tyler Perry films, they make money but that doesn’t mean they are good. They all have basically the same plot—good Christian girl falls for bad boy and is saved by good Christian boy. Hallelujah, the end. She then tells me that I am a colonialist and that my colonial thinking won’t allow me to see how good these films are.

(Ok, all my good white friends reading this, you should stop NOW cause I will not be sparing your feelings.)

DID THIS WHITE BITCH REALLY JUST CALL ME A COLONIALIST?!

After I jumped across the table and choked the shit out of her—Wait no, no. I just thought about jumping across the table and choking the shit out of her. I then reminded this colonial descendant that I was not, nor could I be, a colonialist or a racist or any of the things she sees when she looks in the mirror. What I am is a filmmaker with high standards and I refuse to accept that making a profit means something is great. And the shitty bootlegged videos played in hair salons, American and African, do not constitute great filmmaking for me no matter who does it or how much money it makes. Don’t come for me today bitch, not after a day of apartheid!

To her credit she did apologize (before my foot colonized her ass) and explained that there was a 2^nd wave of Nollywood films that were much better than the ones in the hair salons. And to my credit, I accepted her apology, without throwing her out the window, and we continued to have a good time.

(Ok, all my good white friends, you can start reading again.)

We all danced the night away. Hung out at her place partying and listening to great music & I didn’t get home until 6am. Hallelujah, the end.

On to Durban…

is Barbara Allen, known as B.A. I am a filmmaker from Chicago and am good friends with

Soul to Seoul - Korea Last Day in Asia. FIN!

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Sat, 02 Aug 2014 07:04:00 +0000

Saturday morning we get up and go sight seeing.

I love a man in uniform

First stop --the palace complete with the Royal Guards. It’s fun, especially since people (mostly Chinese tourist) keep asking us, the 3 Americans, to take pictures with them. They think we are famous, so we let them. These tourist are so lucky to have their picture taken with Brad Pitt, Michelle Obama and George Clooney! Smile. Click!

The bootleg:
Michelle Obama, Brad Pitt and George Clooney

They won't believe this in China

Their homework was to speak English
We are the proof they did it.

Cassius Clay?
I thought you were Brad Pitt.

There is something here known as ‘medical tourism’ where people come her for plastic surgery and sightseeing. Notice these two women in front of the palace posing for glamour shots in their bandages. So if you need a little work done and want to throw in some cultural attractions, then medical tourism is for you.

Medical Tourism

Namdaemun area

Next we go to the Namdaemun area, a cute touristy area. I have fun dancing with a street dancer. We shop, check out protesters and have a wonderful lunch.

We stop at another street market and it feels like being a kid on Saturday morning, when you’re shopping with your mother. The wonder of it all, as the adults maneuver their way around and you just follow—looking and smelling and touching. It’s so amazing to you that there is an order to it that everyone, but you, understands. It’s a magnificent puzzle.

Getting my dance on!

She's a dancing machine.

We wear the mask.

Greg ( I mean George Clooney)
finally gets his Geisha girls.

Korean BBQ

We rush home to change for a night out. One of Yung Mi’s classmates and her 17 year old son are meeting us for a big Korean BBQ dinner. What a meal! We cook our own meat, which smells so good, I almost gave up ‘not eating meat.’ Lucky for me, two giant delicious mackerels came out just in time to save me. We made a dent in the huge meal, but alas we also left quite a mess.

We left a mess

Playing Sly and the Family Stone on vinyl

Off we go for drinks at “Back to Vinyl” a very cool hipster record bar. Yes, records as in vinyl as in LP’s. This place has thousands of records and all you have to do is make a request. Spencer had us rocking to Sly and the Family Stone! They also had Watermelon Mint Martinis. Yummy. Even more yummy was the pristine projection of the 1943 B&W classic French film, ‘Le Corbeau.’ This place is EPIC.

We hit a few more bars on the strip and then decided to call it a night since we have an early flight back to the states.

Seoul is a great city. The perfect last stop before coming back to the US. It was fast “balee balee,” and bustling but also safe, friendly and dignified.

Going to the airport was no problem as we could check our luggage and go thru immigrations at the train station and have three hours to get to the airport. Enough time to do more shopping.

Southeast Asia was great.

Our bags went straight thru to Chicago with no problem. It felt strange being back around all the Americans. Everyone seemed so unhappy and generally pissed off.

See ya!

Oh well, vacation is over and it’s “BACK TO LIFE, BACK TO REALITY…”

Seoul Brother --- Korea Day-12.7

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Fri, 01 Aug 2014 10:56:00 +0000

OMG, on another Malaysia Airline flight from Bali to Kuala Lumpur to Phnom Penh to Korea. Four countries in a couple of days. This time we make good on our stopover in Kuala Lumpur and take the train into the city.

train into Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Too Rich for my blood

Petronas Twin Towers

Oh wow, this is HIGH end. We go to the Petronas Towers and it makes ‘The Magnificent Mile,’ Park Ave and Rodeo Drive look like strip malls. Every high end store I have ever seen and others that I am, evidently too poor to have even heard of. Everything is so new and modern. We have a spicy and delicious lunch and head back to the airport.

#monksbelike
Can A Holy Man Get An Upgrade?

This is our last Malaysian Airline flight. (Please God, get me through this. Send me a sign.) In mid prayer three monks board the plane and sit near us—I’m not sure what this ‘sign’ means but…

#monksbelike
Orange is the New Black

#monksbelike
Skipping Immigration

We land safely in Phnom Penh and we get off right behind the monks. Suddenly there are people getting on their knees and bowing. No, not to us, but to one of the monks. The paparazzi are there taking his photo as he disembarks. He is swept through a special door and on to his own bus as the rest of us are funneled thru immigration, where a Khmer Rouge type immigration officer proceeds to rip us off. He asks to see the money we have from Malaysia, then he takes it all (over $20) for a $1 picture. He tells us to use the ATM behind us to pay $20 for another visa…

Traffic in Phnom Penh

This is our last night in Cambodia and we go to dinner with Kidist and her roommate. Later that night I start to feel sick, real sick. We figure it’s dehydration and Kidist has me chug lots of water and a little Gatorade. Unfortunately I have a 5 hour flight to Seoul, Korea in a few hours. I am so sick I’m turning green.

BA & Spencer

Luckily Greg handles all the bags and ticketing, but when entering Korea you have to fill out a health/quarantine form. Every illness they mentioned I had—Headache? Yes. Nausea? Yes. Sore Throat? Yes… but if I check yes they won’t let me in, so I fake it. Greg goes first and gives all the information. I am on the brink of heaving but I smile and say, “I’m with him, whatever he said.” I get thru it all and we head to the Seoul Train Station to meet my friend Spencer. I thought the train station would look like Penn Station or Union Station—wrong. It was bright and clean, a huge new structure.

Yung Mi, Adda, Spencer & Ceilo

Spencer moved to Seoul three years ago with his lovely wife Yung Mi and their two young daughters, ages 8 and 4. We use to work production together, now he has his own record label (with some slamming talent) he has photo and art exhibits around town, he programs music venues and is producing major tv shows for Korea and China. He lives in a fabulous high rise high-tech apartment, (where we are staying.) and is really enjoying life. He is doing it bigtime!

Spencer's music at Burger B- Chicago Speakeasy

Yes BA, you are eating this

Food Market

After we drop our things off we go to a food market to pick up a few things and we walk to a restaurant where he has a photo exhibit. It’s interesting to go from the old (market) to the new (restaurant) in a few minutes and it all works well together.

Fish on a stick

City Hall

There are all kind of cool things happening in Seoul, like the Silent Discos. At a Silent Disco you wear a headset and listen/dance to one of 3 colors—each color a different DJ. If you are listening to blue and find yourself dancing with a green, you can change colors to green with them, or maybe the red DJ works better.

"Ho Bar"--No Comment

We go back to Spencer house around 8:30p to prepare for dinner. His younger daughter wants ice cream and they don’t have the type she likes. So Spencer gives his 8 year old some money and tells her to take her little sister to get ice cream. He reminds her that she’s in charge and to hold her sisters hand crossing the street. I think this must be a game he plays with the girls; but his daughter takes the money and they leave. Wait, wait, wait! It’s dark outside, and you just sent 2 babies out by themselves. Neither Yung Mi nor Spencer seem concerned and continue to prepare dinner. I can’t believe my mature responsible friends are letting this happen, but they did and 30 minutes later the girls come back happily full of ice cream and ready for dinner. I was stunned but they told me that there was nothing to worry about. There is no

With a kick like this, I guess she
can cross the street alone.

crime, kids are safe going out alone, learning to cross the street and to be independent. (We’re not in Kansas anymore.) I’m still freaked out and call my big sister back in the US and tell her the story. At first she was shocked and then she said, “we use to be able to do that too.” Yeah, there was a time when we didn’t have to live in constant fear and were allowed to go out and explore on our own.

We all had a lovely evening and no one was stressed. This feels good.

Bali Poo, Bikes and Art Day 8-9.9

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 31 Jul 2014 10:23:00 +0000

The island's cultural center is Ubud. So that’s where we’re headed next, but not before the hotel called in a doctor for Greg’s burn. They bandaged him up and we were on our way.

Transporting kite by bike

Kites for sale

It’s kite season and kites are everywhere. There’s even a Bali Kite Festival with competing teams of ten or more.

So I can poop on you!

We stop at a house of coffee and experience ‘Luwak’ coffee, called the most expensive coffee in the world. The coffee is made by having a little cat/weasel like animal, the palm civet eat the coffee berry and (seriously) defecate it. Then it’s collected, cleaned, roasted and brewed. By sending the bean thru the animals digestive track it adds enzymes and amino acids and has medicinal properties. They call it ‘the good shit.’

Greg's not buying this 'shit.'

There are also other amazing coffees and teas they make. Coconut coffee, Bali coffee, ginger coffee, ginseng coffee, mangosteen tea, tumeric tea, saffron tea… We get to taste test them all. Yes, I loved the coconut coffee, the ginger coffee was delicious but the ginger tea was better. The expensive ‘Luwak” coffee?

Honestly, to me it taste like shit.

Art is everywhere in Ubud. Galleries, Batik factories, wood carvers. It’s a visual feast! (If this was video, a musical montage of art would happen now.)

Wood carvers

making batik

The next morning I go on a bike tour. Greg is now shedding/peeling and doesn’t want to risk it so he takes a different tour. The tour guide, Wayon, picks me up at the hotel in a van with my other bikers. Most are from Australia or New Zealand. One woman and her family are living in Timor, another from Uruguay. All are very nice and friendly. Our first stop is breakfast in the mountains near Mount Batur Volcano. Wonderful breakfast, including coconut black rice pudding. Taste like heaven.

No this wasnt the bike I used.

This is the bike I get

Wayon our bike guide

After breakfast we drive to pick up our bikes. These bikes are not the newest but at least I have 3 (questionable) speeds. Wayon takes us on a tour of Bali culture. We visit traditional Bali homes. In Bali babies can’t touch the ground for their first 3 months and the mother can’t do any work for those 3 months. I like this. Teens’ canine teeth are filed down. Oh, now I understand why everyone has perfectly straight & even front teeth.

Kids driving scooters

As we ride, motor bikes driven by little kids, pass us by. Wayon tells us you only have to be 10 to drive on in the smaller areas but 16 in the city. I swear I saw six year old kids zooming past us.

We did 25km in 36c heat (15mi & 98F) mostly down hill. There was an optional 9km (5.5mi) uphill and I tried, but started getting terribly dehydrated. Coconut water please.

After the bike tour we head back to Seminyak and meet up with Ema for a last drink at Coup D’Etat another fabulous club on the ocean. Then we end with a meal at the Carribean restaurant ‘The Island.”

Good bye Bali, you were everything and more…

with Gooday

Burn Baby Burn – Bali Day 7.7

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Wed, 30 Jul 2014 10:51:00 +0000

Ouch!

Turns out that 4 hour nap on the beach wasn’t as perfect as we thought. Greg, it seems, is burned to a crisp. He has a reverse farmer’s burn because he did put on some sunscreen before he took off his shirt. This Equator Sun ain’t no punk, “Oh, you think you can lay out here with no sunscreen? Well I got something for ya. Bam! How you like me now?”

It is really hot here—when I go out the second day the sand was burning hot, but then there’s the beautiful ocean. Ahh swoon again…

We have an emergency here, we need to find aloe for this fire.

No pure aloe in sight but we do find something for sunburns that contains aloe. It seems to work and we are off to yet another lovely lunch.

After lunch we decide to drive out to the Balinese sea temple Pura Luhur Uluwatu to see the beautiful view and the Balinese dancers sunset performance. During the forty or so minute drive, Kennedy is warning us about the monkeys there. He tells us not to wear glasses or earrings or anything that dangles because the monkeys swoop down and snatch things. And no, they don’t give them back. They break them or runaway with them.

I’m tripping out, what about my purse, my sunglasses, my necklace? Muriel assures me that it’s not as bad as Kennedy makes it seem, but do put the glasses away.

When we get there they give us sashes and if your knees aren’t covered, sarongs. We walk in and sure enough, there they are. Monkeys! Chunky monkeys everywhere. They’re just chilling and waiting for you to make a mistake. Nothing swinging on me, not even my arms! We see twisted discarded glass frames all around us. Hey lady, watch your… too late, a monkey gets her glasses. Somehow the monkey is persuaded to drop the glasses in exchange for food.

We are now going up to the temple and the beautiful view. It is breath taking, as is the dance show. Sunset in Bali, watching a great dance performance with a spectacular view as background. It couldn’t get any better than this…

Oh but it does.

After the show we go to Menegas Restaurant in Jimbaran Bay for fresh ocean seafood. Before I go any farther, I want to be sure you pronounce the name right. It’s meh-nay-gas, not mi-nig-az. I know, it’s easy to mispronounce words in a foreign language. At Menegas the fish is fresh and swimming around happily, that is until you (executioner) pick the ones you want. “Dead fish swimming.”

Pick your fish & it's cooked fresh

OBTW- This is the spot of the 2005 terrorist bombing in Bali, maybe we should get ours to go? What are we on, the terrorist tour? Planes, restaurants.

Lots of smoking fish

Fresh cooked corn on beach

Oh well, you only live once and--we have a table right on the ocean! There's live music on the beach, hundreds of other people, and a man selling hot spicy corn on the cob that he cooks right there for you. Yummy. We walk back to our table and the fish starts coming out—mussels, crab, cod fish, shrimp, octopus…. Everybody digs in.

This is by far the best fish dinner I’ve ever had! I was so delighted by the food that I almost called them mi-nig-az!

Bali – Paradise, Pavarotti and Public Enemy – Day 6.5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Mon, 28 Jul 2014 09:51:00 +0000

I love negotiating prices and making deals. The haggling is fun and if I don’t like something I never have a problem walking away (just ask any ex.) But everywhere we go Greg keeps getting ripped off. I thought it was poor bargaining skills but in this part of the world I have ‘Black Privilege’ or non-white privilege. I’m told that because I’m not white (even tho I’m a foreigner) people are more willing to negotiate with me. So all this time Greg has been ‘racially profile.’

Kidist made it into Seminyak, Bali before us and is having a wonderful time. Greg and I are so tired after our 24 hours of travel that we both need a nap, but how can you sleep in PARADISE!

Surf's up

We decide if we are going to sleep we should do it on the beach. So we go to the beach and rent three chairs with an umbrella. The Indian Ocean is spectacular. Great waves that we all decide to surf later. Greg is a surfer and convinces Kidist and I that we can do it—we’re both game, but first our nap on the beach.

The nap turns into the best four hours of sleep that you can imagine. The sun, the sound of the water and the feeling of absolute serenity…

We contact my friend Kennedy, who lives in Jakarta with his wife Muriel, and decide to meet for food and drinks. Driving to the restaurant we get to see Seminyak and it is a happening place. Shops, people, action-it’s the vacation resort town of your dreams. This is where you spend your summer vacation with the kids and there’s plenty of people doing just that.

Take a moment to enjoy the coconuts

As American’s we are doing the whole vacation thing wrong. We are so use to rushing that we even rush thru our vacations. Whenever we’d ask anyone how long they’d been there or were staying, it was always ‘3 months’ or we leave in September. In September! WTF are we doing? America—put down the electronics, slowly back away from your job and chill.

Made's Warung staff

with Kennedy and Muriel

We have a wonderful dinner at Made's Warung Seminyak. After dinner we go to meet one of Kennedy’s friends, Ema, at Potato Head. I’d heard about this place from my friend Carl, and it does not disappoint. It is spectacular. A beautiful club/restaurant on the ocean. When I say ‘on the ocean’ I mean it ends on the beach—the Indian Ocean is part of the place. Ema has gotten us a ‘table,’ it’s actually a giant couch/bed, and you take your shoes off, climb in and lay back with drinks, the sounds of the DJ and the ocean thrills your senses. It’s Miami on steroids (the good ones.) It’s beautiful and it seems everyone is in a great mood. Happiness is possible.

Ema is a great conversationalist and so much fun. He runs a linen company, Indolinen. Originally from London via Nigerian parents and a renaissance man. He knows a lot about many things including American history and politricks. We all laugh and talk. Ahh, yes, a perfect night in paradise.

at Potato Head with Ema

We get a ride to our hotel with Ema. When he starts the car his stereo is blasting Pavarotti and he says, “I’m in a Pavarotti phase right now.” Singing with Pavarotti at the top of his lungs, we are all laughing hysterically. Then another song comes on his stereo and it’s non other than, Public Enemy. Who knew that when Pavarotti 'dropped that joint' we'd be rocking to him and Public Enemy. Word.

Fear Is NOT An Option -- Day 5.5 (WARNING: Explicit Content)

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Mon, 28 Jul 2014 07:35:00 +0000

Sitting at the airport in Siem Reap, Cambodia about to board Malaysia Airline to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Yes, you read right Malaysia Airline to Kuala Lumpur, the morning after the downed Malaysia Airline plane over the Ukraine that was headed to Kuala Lumpur then on to Bali. Our exact flight pattern and destinations! WTF can we do?

Fear is not an option. My first thought was (of course) ‘Wow, we are at the center of it all, maybe we should file a report for someone when we reach the Kuala Lumpur airport!’ CNN? Al Jazeera? BBC? CNBC? Huffington Post? Okay, how about Babs Blabs?

Reporting Live (thank God) from Malaysia: “Things are quiet here this mourning as people are in shock at yet another downed Malaysia Airline plane. Passengers are being blessed by all forms of priest and monks before boarding the aircrapt. A traditional healer has been brought in to take the curse off Malaysia Airlines.”

#monksbelike

Monks be like: I'm coming, I'm coming

Monks be like: Blessings my child but that's my window seat

Nah, forget reporting, I’m on vacation.

My darling daughter is taking another Malaysian Air flight from Phnom Penh to Kuala Lumpur then to Bali—I’m more concerned for her than myself, but hopefully we will all end up at the beach in Bali having a wonderful time.

Actually no one here seems very concerned—we have a few flight delays but that will just give us more time to see Kuala Lumpur and their twin towers –The Petronas Towers.

One of the queens at airport

On another note--Why is there a big ass Dairy Queen at Siem Reaps little airport? Why not a Jackfruit Queen? Or an Angkor Queen? Never mind, one just walked by, dressed quite well I must say. Love your pumps girl!

Overheard Malaysia Airlines new theme:

“Because we suck, everyone can use our 1^st class lounge—if you can find it.”

BeAts

Made it safely to Malaysia on a horrible smelling plane. It was a scary, bumpy flight but my Dr. Dre noise reduction Beats headset (mine are BeAts) got me thru it. They didn’t have much good music on the plane but I did take a walk down memory lane with Burt Bacharach’s Greatest Hits. (Hey that was the only name I recognized) OMG he must have written all the music of the 1960’s & 70’s! He wrote Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head and Walk On By to name a few. Dionne Warwick sang most of them. They deserve a lot more Respect (he didn’t write that) and admiration than we have remembered to give them. Dionne Warwick was doing Whitney Houston before her little cousin was. Whitney was really Dionne-2.0.

I am where?

WTH. They are now telling us that our flight will be delayed by FIVE hours because as of July 1 planes cannot fly into the Indonesian airport between midnight and 6am. WTF They’ve known this since July 1 and they couldn’t have told us before now? An email, message on their site, a change when we look up our tickets? Something!

Now what? A ten hour layover?!

Oh, they are putting us all up in a hotel and there’s a special shuttle to take us there AND they will wake and pick us up in the morning? Ok, I forgive them the horribly smelling plane we just got off of. They are so nice about it all.

hotel

Wait, (screeching in my tracks) Oh no, all is not forgiven! It takes 40 minutes to get to the “hotel” and it is, to put it mildly—A SHIT HOLE! We ask the front desk what it would cost to go into the city. They tell us it’s too late (9pm) for public trans and a cab would cost us $100.

F-it take us back to the airport, we’d rather sleep standing up than stay here. Back on the bus…

racing luggage carts

At the airport there’s nothing to do so we play race the luggage carts and look for a bar—this is no small feat. After hours of wandering we find one in another terminal.

Where's the bar?

We board our plane at 4:15am and it’s a pretty full flight. Yes, finally on our way to Bali. Greg & I aren’t seated together and, of course, I get a kid in the middle seat next to me. He’s about ten and keeps bumping and kicking and squirming—isn’t it past his bedtime?

Hopefully this plane will get us to paradise soon-–the one on earth (this is Malaysia Airlines I need to be specific.)

We made it to paradise in spite of Malaysia Airlines.

Grade for Malaysia Airline: a big fat F-

I understand that you lost a plane this morning, which was absolutely NOT your fault (the other one earlier this year was your fault.) If you are upset, which no body seemed to be, then ground your fleet and get it together. We will understand, really we will.

But is it too much to ask that you clean the plane before each flight? The plane from Siem Reap to Kuala Lumpur smelled like (excuse me if this is offensive) deep fried funky azz crack! I was hoping someone would fart to freshen the air. The second flight from Kuala Lumpur to Bali had horrible service. I was given hot water to drink and when I asked for another it had something floating in it. Hmm maybe I’m not that thirsty.

My advice dear travellers: Don’t fly Malaysia Airlines, not because it may fall out of the air but because you may fall out in the air.

Africa Is Everywhere -- Day 4.5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Mon, 21 Jul 2014 12:21:00 +0000

My tour guides

I’d asked Kidist when she first went to Cambodia if people were amazed to see an African-American. (It had been 40+ years since the Viet Nam war.) “Not really,” she told me, “because the people are so dark themselves that dark skin is not unusual.” Now I see what she means, most of the people (especially in Siem Reap) are darker than African-Americans. They also have flatter African noses and straight thick (Indian type) hair. Sometimes I’d have to do a double take, cause I thought I saw someone from the ‘hood’ aka ‘America.’ They are not all dark, some of them are pale, but the blacker ones intrigue me. Mother Africa always smiles through her children…and we are ALL her children, some of us just look more like her.

I know, I know, you're darker than me.

I slept in today and in the afternoon I go to see a floating village on Tonle Sap River, the Chong Khneas village. One of my tour guides thinks it’s funny that I say I’m Black because he is so dark that when he puts his arm against mine he is so much darker than I am. This cracks him up. Then the lighter guide puts his arm against mine and says, ‘Me too” and yes, he too, is darker than I am (even in my now most tanned state.) They are loving the fact that they are blacker than me—so I change the subject!

When I tell them I’m from Chicago they say that they love Obama cause he is a friend to their president and to the Cambodian people. They also know about Lake Michigan and the great lakes. They know they are fresh water lakes and that they go up to Canada. This from a guy who says he’s only done six years of school so far. (We definitely need a better education system in the U.S.A.)

I have a lot of fun with my three guides, one who looks like he is about 12 years old but says he’s 16. They say that’s how Cambodians are--small but old.

Solar panel

The floating village was interesting—people living on boats but they still have phones and televisions. There are floating markets, schools, churches, a police station and even floating basketball courts. Many people use generators but bigger places are using SOLAR PANELS! America is beginning to seem a little 3^rd world to me…

He looks 12 to me!

Rasta

Police Station with 2 hammocks

We make stop at one of the floating NGO’s that supports kids that were orphaned from a tsunami type flood. They have large 50 & 30 pound bags of rice and/or candy you can buy for them. Everyone usually buys rice for them, but I of course bought them candy. I know everyone is thinking ‘those poor kids need rice for nutrition’ yeah but they are kids and they also need candy. After your purchase your boat takes you to the school to give them your gift. When Greg bought the rice he just went to the class room to the school room and gave the bag to the teacher, who hardly looked up from her work. All the children say ‘thank you’ as they continue to work from their books. But with the candy I went to each kid and let them pick out what they wanted. I got to meet and interact with each child and they were a lot more interested and happy about my candy donation. So HA, candy wins out!

One of my guides asks me if I am on Facebook and if he could friend me. Even in a remote floating village people are on Facebook. Zuck, Zuck, Zuckerberg you ARE the man, even in Seim Reap, Camboda!

Dinner, drinks and YES another foot massage, this time $4 for an hour plus free beer and a short shoulder/neck massage. I really could get use to this….

Temples of Swoon -- Day 3.5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 23:32:00 +0000

6:30am We are suppose to be flying to Siem Reap where Angkor Wat and other ancient temples are but when my Tuk Tuk arrives at Greg's hotel there seems to be a crisis. The hotel can't seem to open the safe with all Greg's money in it. We certainly can't leave it behind so we have to wait for the manager to arrive from home, she has the master key….

She's here, it's open, let's go and try to beat the rush hour traffic to the airport. the city is already buzzing with cars but we manage to get there with enough time for coffee. Kidist texts us worried that we didn't make it because she is caught in a horrible traffic jam on her way to work. (Did I mention that Kidist is working with the UN for the summer prosecuting war criminals of the Khmer Rouge?)

When it's time to board I'm shocked at how small the plane is. No wonder I'm in seat 6A--there is no first class on this puddle jumper. Luckily the 45 minute flight only takes 30 minutes. we hear from Kidist again and she still hasn't made it to work--it was faster to fly to another city than drive thru rush hour traffic.

We take a Tuk Tuk to our 'hotel'--The Avatar Hotel. Not exactly what we were expecting. I don't think the term 'avatar' existed when they built this hotel, obviously modern bathrooms didn't exist then either. they changed my room 3 times before they had something almost acceptable. We drop our stuff and head to the temples.

First temple is Ta Prohm, the one everyone knows from ‘The Temple of Doom.’ There are a million people out there trying to sell you stuff. It’s also blazing hot!

Ta Prohn temple

I guess because I’m not a big Indiana Jones fan I wasn’t that excited. It was interesting, especially since it was built in the 1100’s but I can tell I’m not going to want to do this ALL day.
Hot and bored, I insist we skip the middle temple and go straight to the BIG one, Angkor Wat.

OMG! Now that’s a temple. Angkor What! Angkor Wat is big, beautiful and so impressive! This I can get into. We were there for hours—doing panorama shots, climbing to the top and taking in the magnificence of it all. It’s so elaborate and to think it was built almost a thousand years ago…

I lost my head

Oh I found it!

As we are leaving it starts to rain and we can’t find Wyn. He was to meet us at 4:30 but he later told us that he fell asleep—easy to do in this heat. No problem, we were already drenched in sweat, from all the climbing in the sun so the rain was refreshing.

We ask Wyn to help us find another hotel (we want a real shower.) The first hotel he takes us to has better hallways but the bathrooms are, well let’s just say the same people that built the temples probably used them. So that would be a “NO” for that h-old-tel.

Ta Prohn Hotel

Lemon Pledge

Finally we arrive at the Ta Prohn Hotel (yes the same name as the 1st temple we saw.) It’s across the street from the Night Market and near Pub Street (think Cambodian Bourban Street.) When we walk in we notice everything is wood carving and Greg says it smells like Lemon Pledge. Okay I can live with that, but what about the bathrooms? Ding, ding JACKPOT—beautiful marble bathroom with full tub & shower plus another stand alone shower, real cable and a balcony to boot. We’ll take 2 please. Lemon Pledge wins out!

Now to gather our things from the Avatar. We thought we'd have a problem but I think they were surprised we even left our stuff there. Booking.dot.NO!

Ahh, after visiting the Night Market then food and drinks on Pub Street we cap it off with a $3 thirty minute foot massage that includes a free beer and back/shoulder massage---(yes I did say $3!) the Batmobile Tuk Tuk takes us to Lemon Pledge and HBO for a good night’s sleep…

Batmobile Tuk Tuk

Cambodia Day 2.5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 19:33:00 +0000

Started the day with a drink. We are, after all, on vacation.

Is that the Mekong River? The one in Apocalypse Now—where Larry (he was Larry then) Fishburne dances to (I can’t get no) Satisfaction? So much of what we know of history and geography comes from the movies—ooh that’s such a dangerous thing, think DW Griffith.

3 drinks later we go to the King’s house, uhm I mean palace.

Dahmn, gold much?

Who is his gardener?

Kings Disco outfits

Hanging out with Buddha—best Buddhys.

Love the monks, they wear my favorite colours.

Bamboo Bikes

Bamboo bikes—great idea.

Zuck is always with me

Even in Cambodia can’t get away from Zuck.

Went to the “Bliss Spa” for a massage. We had a 90 minute deep tissue massage for $30. It was soooooo great. So good in fact, that Greg proposed to his massage therapist about 40 minutes into his massage. BLISS is the correct name for it!

Everything is so cheap here and there is no tipping—I could get use to this.

Nap time until dinner

Delicious food from Tepui House with a Venezuelan female chef in Cambodia.

Drunken Tres Leche dessert

Infinity Rooftop Pool

Infinity pool & Rooftop drinks to end the night.

Phnom Penh

BA does Southeast Asia Day 1.5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Mon, 14 Jul 2014 19:56:00 +0000

Where am I? What day is it? This is how I woke up in Korea. Fourteen hour plane ride that I slept thru. I was only awakened to be insulted by the 'food.' Better to let me just dream of the wonderful food that awaits me when we next land.

Everyone talks about how great the Seoul airport is and we (my writing partner, Greg & I) WERE excited--casinos, spa's, business class lounge. Well none of this happened for us. The casino was on the other side of security and the spa was closed. We weren't allowed to use our United Business Class Lounge passes so we ate more bad food and made the best of it. After all we are on our way to paradise---but not for a few days. First stop Phnom Pehn to see my dearest Kidist. She was as excited to us as we were to see her!

Oh wait! The finals for the World Cup is on, where’s the sports bar? Eight blocks away we find the sports bar, SCORE. Although it’s 3am the bar is packed with cheering fans. Expats singing in German, and yes, there was plenty of beer. What a great way to start the trip. Even though I was rooting for Argentina the crowds enthusiasm was infectious. I even met some Nigerian German fans. (WTH?) Anyway….

Mass Exodus

Day One in Cambodia we go to the Khmer Rouge Museum and on to the Killing Fields. April 17, 1975 was the beginning of the end for many Cambodians. That was the day when Pol Pot and The Communist Party of Kampuchea (CPK), otherwise known as the Khmer Rouge, took control. They quickly evacuated the city, telling the people that the Americans were about to bomb. Being led to rural areas, the people soon realized they had become slave labor for the government. A government that was cruel and paranoid, killing over 3 million people, including intellectuals, city residents (they had bad habits, like thinking) foreigners and people with glasses, because only pure people were qualified to build the revolution. Does this remind you of that German guy years before?

The Killing Fields

Survivor with book

He survived and can still smile

victims

It gets worse at the Killing Fields. We see where they killed the people. The tree that they beat the babies head against until dead.

Tree used to kill babies

Who are these people? Listening to their illogical reasoning I see many similarities to the Tea Party. I won’t elaborate but if you care to know, compare the two.

This is a great civics lesson and makes me realize that we must be diligent and not ever let this happen under our watch. I’m sure that genocide is going on somewhere in the world right at this moment and we cannot ignore the suffering of others because if we do, we may be next. People always think, “No it couldn’t happen here” until it does…

We ride around the city in a ‘Tuk Tuk.” I’m thinking new reality tv show, “Pimp my Tuk Tuk.” Some have already been pimped out with lights and tv’s.

Already 'pimped" in gold

Greg & Kidist checking out strange fruit

At the Russian market we eat, drink coffee and buy presents. The sights, sounds and smells were amazing and we knew we were on the other side of the world. I love the bargaining in the market. Whatever the price, you cut it in half and haggle from there. Most times you get your price or close to it.

On to dinner at one the best restaurant in Cambodia, “Malis.” Great dinner of Fish Amok, Kampot Pepper Crab, Papaya Salad and Luc Lac. Sorry no pictures, we were so hungry and ate it so fast that we forgot to take pictures of the food. Trust me it was wonderful.

Who knew you could get “itis” in Asia. Well we did and all headed home for a good nights sleep! After all tomorrow is another day…

Grand Passion

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Mon, 31 Dec 2012 09:57:00 +0000

It's the end of a love story that no one could understand, not even those involved.

We never met cause we have always known each other. Or so it seemed when we first saw each other in this lifetime. There was something extremely familiar and it shook me up, but of course it made her laugh. She laughed at me as I stumbled around trying to get away, from what, I didn't know at the time.

We would see each other again when she came to my house with friends. There it was again, as it would continue to be for the rest of our lives together--this time. I could no longer run away. (I was afterall in my own home.) We circled one another and asked questions, like secret agents trying to see if the other knew the code.

Still not sure if it wasn't all just a trap, we asked the ultimate question.

"When's your birthday?"

Nov 1.

Not my birthday, your birthday!
Wait, how'd you know that?

It's also your birthday? All Saints Day, AND you're a recovering Catholic too. Yes, of course I also thought we got the day out of school because it was my birthday….

And so it went on from there. The two wild ones that should have never been allowed to sit next to each because of the laughter and giggling.

She called me 'Spice Lee' and I called her 'Ernest.'
We had our own language and our own world. If one of us looked down and said to the other, "Nice shoes"* that meant we were bored and needed to find an excuse to leave wherever we were.

*This came from a lecture we were giving and the crowd was, let's say, 'less intellectual' than we expected and standing at the podium we started talking about our shoes. Yes, we kept answering questions from the audience but the shoes were more interesting than anything they were saying.

Sometimes our communication didn't involve spoken words. Whenever I travelled I would write her letters and notes that I'd forget to send, I didn't need to.

Our relationship was so intimate that sometimes I couldn't tell if I was talking to her or myself. She'd say we had 'residual intimacy' from another time. Whatever it was, everybody saw it and loved it. People often looked at us and sighed, saying they wish they had a friend like that. A friendship that made our hearts laugh and sing.

Of course, many people misinterpreted who and what we were to each other, but we especially loved that too.

Scorpio's are very private and we love secrets. So the less people got it, the more fun it was. (...and the more outrageous) .

We were each other's biggest supporters, always pushing the other to do more and helping each other through the disappointments in life.

Guitar SHeros

We didn't agree on everything and would have great fights. We'd stop speaking to each other for as long as we could take it, but eventually one of us would always break down and call. Then we'd pick up were we left off, as if no time had passed.

Our fights with each other were expected, but heaven help anyone else who came for us. Everyone knew there was a line that was not to be crossed when it came to our friendship. We would defend each other to the end. More angered by someone insulting the other, than by being personally attacked.

That love and support is what will get me through the difficulty of saying goodbye, for now.

To Ernest,

Much and More.
Love,
Spice

An Apology to Whitney Houston

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 09:04:00 +0000

We all owe Whitney Houston an apology

An apology for enjoying her suffering.

An apology for laughing at her struggle.

An apology for dismissing her pain.

An apology for writing her off as a has been, booing her off stage.

An apology for ignoring her need for help.

An apology for watching her implode on reality tv, waiting for the fatal overdose finale, and when it didn't happen on air, loosing interest.

An apology for not publicly denouncing Bravo for airing "Being Bobby Brown."

An apology for not being able to accept her as she really was: Black, Gay and Beautiful. (Yeah I said it)

An apology for demanding she be who WE wanted her to be.

We've all failed Whitney Houston.

And though it may be too late, we still owe Whitney an apology.

So here it is:

I'm sorry Whitney that we weren't there for you.

I'm sorry Whitney that we seemed to enjoy your fall.

I'm sorry Whitney that we acted as if you deserved your pain.

I'm sorry Whitney that we didn't give you love and support in your time of need.

I'm sorry Whitney that we couldn't give back to you a little of the joy and happiness you gave to all of us.

I'm sorry Whitney that we didn't know how to love you.

Forgive us Whitney and rest in peace, finally...

COLOMBIA, South America: Quibdo, Choco Day 5

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Sun, 18 Dec 2011 22:48:00 +0000

We Love Choco! There's a very real and peaceful spirit here. We decide to go for a walk after breakfast...

The Afro-American Bank is new. It was started because Black people were being discriminated against by the major banks. The same story: they wouldn't finance loans, help business or treat the people with dignity and respect. It touches me that this is the reasons why Anthony Overton and Jessie Binga started Black banks in the 1920's

Helping hands of the bank

This woman had no idea how beautiful she
was to us. She thought we wanted to take
her picture to laugh at her.

Liliana and Kidist

We walk thru the town down to where 3 rivers meet. The sky is so beautiful here.

We see Liliana and she decides to go with us to the waterfront market. Passing the boats everyone says I should go for a ride but they are a bit too small for my comfort--so I decline.

I'd rather walk around the market and people watch.

The market is wonderful! Great sights, smells and tastes. There are so many new and exciting fruits... and they love to juice everything. This would be a great place to do a all juice diet. You'd never run out of new flavors and delicious old ones.

Freshly caught catfish.

Since I don't eat meat I can't speak to that, but the fish is definitely FRESH.

Drying cocoa beans.
Smells great, tastes bitter.

Susy in what I called her
"model on location" poise.

It feels so comfortable here, more like family than stranger. Even though I didn't speak the language I felt very connected. Cousins I'd never met or knew existed but having parents who were siblings, we both understood what the other had been thru and there is laughter at the instant recognition of self.

Now I REALLY want to learn Spanish. Before it was more lip service, but now I need to talk to my long lost cousins cause we have so much to enjoy about the other.

The indigenous people have been
abandoned, as they have everywhere.

We have to leave for the hotel and pack. There's a call to tell us that the Governor wants to stop by and meet us before we go. Wow, the Governor! Unfortunately he didn't get there before we left. We couldn't wait because we'd already spent an extra day there and I had to do a tv appearance for the Embassy in Bogata. Oh well, next time--I'm just honored he wanted to meet.

At the airport we have all kinds of scheduling problems but we get it sorted out and finally get thru security. Suddenly large soldiers with BIG guns come into the waiting area and ask for "Barbara Allen!" Gulp. Is this the part where I get kidnapped. Maybe I just shouldn't say anything...but my kid is there and I can't let them take her. Ok, ok, I confess, I'm Barbara Allen. The soldiers turn to me and say, "The Governor is here to see you." WTF!

How cool is that? Not as cool as it was going to get. We get up to go meet the Governor, expecting a pudgy, balding, middle aged man but instead there was Governor Malcolm Ali!

Malcolm Ali,
The Governor of Choco!

Holy cow! He was gorgeous, intelligent, passionate and only 29 years old. He'd been elected 8 months earlier and the people were worried that he was too young, but he's made such a difference that nobody is concerned with his age anymore.

And what a name--MALCOLM ALI. His parents must have known he was going to be a great man...

The Girlz with the Governor;-)

Now we hate to leave Choco even more. The Gov apologizes for not being able to accompany us to Bogota for the closing of the festival but there are elections on Sunday (not for his seat) and he has to supervise.

The River

Good bye Choco! We'll be back and we'll bring more cousins with us.

Babs Blabs: COLOMBIA, South America: Quibdo, Choco Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Sat, 05 Nov 2011 11:26:00 +0000

Babs Blabs: COLOMBIA, South America: Quibdo, Choco Day 4

COLOMBIA, South America: Quibdo, Choco Day 4

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 03:37:00 +0000

We wake up and head straight to the airport to fly to the infamous 'Choco.' That's where the slaves ran away to. It's also where my fave group comes from. In fact the group's name is from the state (Choco) and town (Quibdo) = ChocQuib Town. Nice!

Wait a minute! Are those propellers on that plane? Hmm, I'm not feeling this. AND the the plane is 'Aires?!' No offense to my Aires buddies out there, but you know how erratic you can be. Do I really want to put my life in an Aires propellor plane?

WTH, lets do this! I remember at least one good prayer..."Oh St. Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong before the throne of God...."

What? We're here, we landed? Piece of cake.

Safely on the ground in Choco!

3 Generations of Black feminists

Let's go.

We go to our hotel, where Jenny surprises her mother. Three generations of Black female activist, all brilliant and beautiful!

Now we eat. Yum, amazing food. Did I mention coconut rice? I should have, cause it's plentiful and DELICIOUS. Then there is the refreshing coconut water with small bits of coconut. I love coconut--when I was pregnant I always craved coconut, mango, lobster and champagne. Hmm, I still crave coconut, mango, lobster and champagne...

Next, we are off to do a tv interview at a school and talk with some media students. I show them both films, Morning Due and Eric's Haircut.
These students are very savvy. They find meaning and significance that was missed by others (including me ;-0)

Media Students

They talk about hair and cultural identity. Personal identity versus public perception. Emotional vs physical trauma. Music as character.

Muntu Bantu
Black Cultural Center in Choco

Have I mentioned that Choco is an all Black state. I kept thinking I was back in Africa. Now I understand why Susy felt so at home in Ouagadougo, Burkina Faso in West Africa--it looks and feels a lot alike. It's hot because we are, after all, in a jungle.

A different meaning of 'hand to mouth'

The Muntu Bantu Black Cultural Center is down the street and we walk down there for another screening and discussion. The center is full of pictures and paintings of Black historical icons and events. Black heroes of North and South American freedom struggles. The middle passage and Malcolm X, lots of Malcolm X.

Malcolm under the door of no return, looking at the pyramids.

Afterwards we go to a restaurant on the river and have a wonderful meal that includes champagne.

Boats on the River

Susy, Our Hostess, BA & Jenny

We all retire happy and full to get ready for a second day in Choco!

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 12:31:00 +0000

COLOMBIA, South America: Cali

Day 3

We hop on an early flight to CALI.

I know there is something different about this place as soon as I see the sign for the MULATO cafeteria! Okay, this is gonna be different.

Hmm...

It seems Cali is also the salsa capital and they are very proud of it. We missed a big festival by about a week.

At lunch with Beth & Mary Ellen

(L-R) BA, Interpreter, Photographer & Reporter

Our first stop is lunch with the director of the Centro Cultural Colombo American Cali. After lunch I have an interview with a big time reporter there. I sit and talk with the reporter and photographer through my interpreter.

Reporters and Michael Cadena

They're all gracious and very professional, as is the cultural director Michael Cadena.

Hey, that's my name again.

Okay, great that's done. Now I go inside and introduce "DuSable to Obama." I settle in with everyone else and watch the film, when someone taps me on the shoulder to come out and do a television interview.

I hope I sound intelligent
or just not stupid;-)

with the TV reporter and Susy

Time to go back in for the discussion with the audience.

The guy who's keeping me safe today.

They ask really go in depth questions. I'm so use to the same questions that I have a standard answer but this time I actually had to think about my answers. There are 3 Martin Luther King scholars who will be coming to the USA to get their PhD.

MLK Scholars

Filmmaker who worked
on "Avatar"

Another event at a Bank

Oh yeah, we're in partyville, now that we've sailed threw that lets go PARTY! What? We have another screening event. We haven't even checked our bags in the hotel yet. But cool, let's go.

We have a packed house, standing room only. All young kids. the are adorable, excited and so well behaved (considering how many their are.)

with some of the students

the band warmed them up

Speakers after the screening include Ray, the lawyer for the Colombian hip hop group, "ChocQuib Town" one of my favorite groups. I complained to Ray that we waited for them at the Old Town School of Music in Chicago, a packed house and they cancelled on us. So he calls one of the lead singers and has him explain how they got stuck in NYC and couldn't get out to Chicago in time.

ChocQuip Town

Ray, the lawyer for ChocQuib Town

As I said, "Everybody loves Kidist,

That was fun, but it's late (obviously NOT too late for 'football' soccer or whatever you want to call it) I I just want to go to bed now. Tommorrow we fly to CHOCO! The Black state in Colombia...

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 06:46:00 +0000

COLOMBIA, South America: Bogota.

Day 2

Opening ceremony

2011 has been internationally proclaimed the year we celebrate people of African Descents and from that, the first Afro-Colombian Festival was created by Jenny for the Anna Perenna Fondation. The American Embassy is working with them and invite me as a Cultural Ambassador to promote American cultural and cultural exchange. Really? They must have me confused with someone else...but I'll go with it. WTH?

Uncle Charles, 1961 Colombia
(upper left, yes left!)

I am also going to South America to check on my 87 year old Uncle Charles who has been ill. He and my Aunt Helen met and married in Colombia in the early 60's when they were both working as volunteers for the Ba'hai.

From my hotel balcony

How do I celebrate my first full day in Bogota? I go shopping! Off to the mall.

Very nice. I like it, especially since there are

No Starbucks but lots of Juan Valdez Cafes.

The opening of the festival is wonderful with artist, performers , politicians and even someone representing the President of Colombia. It takes place in a beautiful building that is a bank, as does many cultural things (theatre's, museums etc) in Colombia happen in the national banks.

This is a bank?!

Hey that's my name!

BA & Susy Guevara

We have a wonderful panel that is discussing Black images and the importance of controlling them.

African folk dance closes opening night.

Everyone has a great time!

One of the bank sponsors

Afterwards everyone hung out and talked, until the bank threw us out. Uh, it is a bank and they need to close and count their $$$!

BA & Kidist with Karent Hinestroza,
a well known actress in Colombia

Two young youth workers doing their parts

Susy Guevara with both her parents.

Jenny 'gifts' me this beautiful necklace.
The designer is on the left.

After we leave the bank we go out to dinner and dancing.

Beautiful bar/restaurant

Jenny dancing with her two girls, Jessica and Susy.
This family knows how to party!

Here's your bag of valuables.

At the restaurant they bring a huge bag to the table for us to put our valuables in (purses, computers etc,) then it’s locked and you are given the key.

They also serenade us as they welcome us with rose petals falling from above.

Carmine, one of the organizers.

Kidist and Jessica.

Everyone loves Kidist!

Kidist and Jenny.

Antonio & Jenny

Good Night...

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Tue, 01 Nov 2011 02:48:00 +0000

COLOMBIA, South America: Bogota.
Day 1

Didn't sleep at all last night cause I was trying to pack but not to over pack. Yeah, of course I ended up overpacking. I ordered a cab to the blue line train for 7:30 am and as luck would have it I ended up with a more than punctual African cab driver--he gets there at 7:15. Hasn't he heard of CP time or African time? Well he just has to wait cause I wont be ready and down until 7:30. He's Somolian and has lots to say about religion, politriks, colonization and corrupt African leadership, glad Im only going to the Blue line.

After I drag my luggage down the stairs I meet a Ghanain woman who is very friendly and talkative. She tells me about the most talented actors/actresses in Ghana. She is very interesting and pretty animated.
Get to the airport with time to spare, I have priority access and don't have to wait in the long line. My gate is H11B and quite a walk but in the time it took me to walk down the from the terminal, they have changed the flight to the other end of the world in L8. But I just came from that way...

Get to Miami where I have a layover. I swear I was in that airport for 45 minutes before I heard English spoken. Great preparation for my trip.

I arrive to flowers and happy faces.

Emil and Jessica greet me at airport

Go to the hotel and change and then go to a dinner party where I meet my lovely hostess, Jenny De La Torre. Jenny is the beautiful mother of my friend Susy Guevara. Susy and I met in Burkina Faso at FESPACO film fest. She told me she was Afro-Colombian, which I thought was unusual but how many could there really be? Surprise, surprise!

Jenny looks like Marpessa Dawn, the female star of the movie 'Black Orpheus.'

Antonio, the Renaissance Man

Jenny De La Torre

The dinner is great. Our chef is Jenny's husband Antonio, a real renaissance man. Not only is he a chef but also a painter, sculptor and musician. He played and taught trumpet for 38 years--so naturally I gave him a copy of the DuSable to Obama soundtrack by trumpet master Orbert Davis. He was delighted.

Antonio's painting

Black Historian

Mi familia - the Dinner party

These people are wonderful. There is someone there from the American Embassy, a female Black historian, a singer and others. What a lovely group.

The End of a Wild Hare Era 5.15.2011

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 05:54:00 +0000

The End of An Era

5:05am Monday morning. Just came in from the last party at The Wild Hare Reggae Club. It was bittersweet. So nice to see everyone “coming home.”

I grew up in the Wild Hare, as did my children, literally. The Wild Hare was where we learned the true meaning of ‘international.’ It was owned by Ethiopians, with employees from Ghana, Mexico, Jamaica, Europe, Puerto Rico and the hood.

It was Black owned as was nearly that entire strip at one time. There were three Ethiopian Restaurants, a Jamaican restaurant, another reggae club—not to mention the Chinese, Japanese, Middle Easten and Indian owned establishments that were once there. The white businesses in the area used to call that section of Clark street “Nigger-Row.”

The first reggae band that I ever saw was New Era Reggae Band in the 80’s. https://vimeo.com/136800478

Back then the Wild Hare was a one room shack and you had to go through the men’s bathroom to get to the dirt floor dressing room downstairs which was basically an unfinished basement. There’s a great story about the Staple Singers being run out of that dressing room by rats!

Oh, but there were some great bands and performers there. International Stars like Mutabaruka, Steel Pulse, Anthony B, Mighty Diamonds, Eek-A-Mouse, Israel Vibration and Third World. Local Stars like Nyan Como, Dallol, Debbie DeFire, Gypsy Fari, Kwame, Kelly Ranks and Devon Brown to name a few.

All kinds of people came to the Wild Hare and for many different reasons:

After that first trip to Jamaica or the Carribean and you needed a little of the flavor to hold on to, you'd go to the Wild Hare.

New 3^rd world immigrants that needed to find like minds, they could always find fellow country-men or at least folks from the same continent at the Wild Hare. That includes many east Indians and Chinese. Remember there are many East Indian and Chinese Jamaicans.

Your first crush on that cutie pie with the sexy accent, you’d go dancing at the Wild Hare.

If you just needed something different to lift your spirits, you could go to the Wild Hare.

It didn’t matter what brought you to the Wild Hare, once you got there you were there to stay.

Laureen Hill met her Marley husband in the Hare after a Fugees concert.

Jimmy Cliff, Ziggy Marley, Gregory Issac, members of the Chicago Bulls, Bears players, Cub fans, movie stars and so many others were all there. After a big concert this is where you finished the night.

It was the place to be, not just for the music but for the culture. Where else were we going to learn about world music and culture? It was a place to meet people from all over the world and interact with them in a party atmosphere.

The Wild Hare was a reflection of the real world: multi -cultural, intergenerational and crossing all classes.

So what happens now? Where will future generations cut their teeth on global culture. We are at the mercy of culture vultures who call themselves our friends then overcharge us to experience our own culture with $20 drinks. Buddah’s Shrine is not that funky.

I am happy that Ethiopia will get an international cultural center with all green energy and they certainly need it more than Clark street needs another bar. I do wish we could have both Wild Hares, cause Chicago still needs international cultural too.

This was the last song played on the last night of the Wild Hare...

https://vimeo.com/136804027

Final FESPACO installment

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 06:32:00 +0000

J-F gets up at 4am to go scout locations for his next doc. It’s about the slaves that are still in Africa near the Mali/Burkina border. White Touaregs own Black slaves and the slaves have no desire to be free. Interesting. The pictures he brings back later in the afternoon are amazing. That Canon 5D is a beast.

I have more meetings all afternoon still running about town on a scooter. Just as I get into the rhythm, it’s time to leave. J-F and I were laughing because we just met but it seemed like we’d known each other forever. That’s the great thing about travel, you can travel thousands of miles only to find the best friends that you’ve never met, yet. Sometimes there is no learning curve, it’s all so natural.

There were lots a good people here, Shivani, JoAnna, Christina, Richard, all the wonderful African filmmakers and the beautiful people of Burkina Faso. I guess it was worth all the trouble and chaos to come. So goodbye and thanx Burkina!

This should be the end of the story, credits rolling but WAIT! There’s more….

As I sit waiting in the Burkina airport, dying of thirst (I got rid of all my money so I cant buy anything and remember they don’t take Mastercard) guess who shows up and is on my flight and alone? My crush! Filmmaker Newton Aduwaka. Yes, that’s me dancing in the aisle! Does it get any better than this? It sure does...

We have a great conversation, exchange films and he buys me a drink. Life is good. Now you can roll credits as I drop the mic and walk off stage…

-- FIN--

Homeless in Ouaga Pt 12

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 05:15:00 +0000

What do you mean it’s time to leave? I was just learning to swear in French and not like a Frenchman: Va te faire foute, connard! Ok that’s enough or I’ll be banned in yet another language.

It’s hard to tell what day it is, they all blend together. Everyone is constantly asking the day and date. One of the Canadian filmmakers had marked his guide with all the movies he wanted to see, only to find out he was a day early—back to the drawing/scheduling board.

It’s soooo hot 102-105 degrees and there’s very little shade. We are land locked on the edge of the Sahara Desert.

FESPACO has concluded and everyone is preparing to leave. Michael and Calvin left before the close and I’m also gathering my things to leave. The hotel has me sign some form for FESPACO and have me pay for incidentals. I have a car arranged to take me to the airport and I do some last minute shopping on the back of a motor scooter. It’s fun. I go by J-F’s to use his computer to skype Paris only to find out my flight isn’t until, what? Oh no! Tomorrow. But I’ve packed and checked out! We call the Relax ‘Don’t Do It’ Hotel and they say I was only booked through today. But FESPACO booked both the hotel and airline ticket. OMG, I‘m homeless. I see myself wander the streets of Ouaga all night with my luggage, maybe I could sell phone cards. That’s a popular free lance job here.

No one else is very concerned or think this is a big problem. (Of course not, they have a place to sleep) Someone suggest we go eat and party cause after all, hey hey, you’ve got another day with us in Ouaga. Are these people crazy?

Jean-Francois tells me not to worry that I can sleep in his room, he has two beds. Voila, problem solved—let’s go eat! Not only do i have a place to stay but it also fulfills my other wish: I’m staying at the HOTEL INDEPENDENCE! Yeah! I’m strutting around now like I own the place. I do, I have a key!

JoAnna wants to treat us all to dinner at an Italian restaurant where we will meet a couple of her friends. The restaurant was surreal, like a scene out of a movie. Sitting in the heart of Africa in an outdoor Italian garden. The 8 of us were having a great time. Suddenly one of the filmmakers from Chad spots this gorgeous woman sitting at a table alone. She didn’t look like a person having dinner alone. She had a joy about her like she was anticipating something wonderful. He leaves us to join her at her table and they get into a very animated discussion. We are having so much fun at our table that we forget about them. Finally he comes back and everyone starts drilling him. He gives up bits of info and promises to write a full report. There’s a phrase in Burkina when asking about a woman they say, “She’s a good actress.”

Still sitting alone at her table we all beckon her over to join us. She’s very delightful and beautiful. All the guys eyes have glazed over as she talks so passionately. She’s a doctor from Senegal working on HIV. She’s a good actress.

Doctor Good Actress tells us that in 15 minutes she’s going to the ballet around the corner and it only costs 500 cfa’s, which is about $1. It goes to help women who would otherwise have to work the streets to eat and the director is a friend of hers. So now we’re all going to the ballet. How’d she do that? Damn she’s a GREAT actress!

The ballet was outdoors (of course) and it was packed and eventually they had to turn people away. These folks love their culture. (I thought about some of our dance troupes like Muntu Dancers, and how they struggle. Wouldn’t they love the average neighborhood people to flood their events.) The dancers were great fun, the orchestra was also magnificent, half of them drummers. It was fun and everyone enjoyed it, but where was J-F and Dr. Beautiful?

Oh no, now where will I sleep? I clutch my Hotel Independence key, and I was so close. Joanna says I could stay with her. Ok. (but she’s not at the Independence:-(

As we’re leaving J-F and Doctor Love show up and he’s adamant about me staying with him. Seems the good doctor was very interested in him but he has a girlfriend that he loves and didn’t want to mess this up.

I don’t understand. What language is he speaking now? Oh, he’s serious, so I tell him that he is a noble guy and spend half the night telling him he did the right thing. (I guess) He should have no regrets and anyway he still has another night in Ouaga if he wants to change his mind. I’m sure he won’t. I go to bed humming, she’s a Maneater…

Celebrate Pt 11

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 02:18:00 +0000

Time for the FESPACO Awards ceremony.

The awards are beautiful and some even come with cash prizes between 2,000,000-8,000,000 CFA’s. The closing ceremony is much like the open—big spectacle and the President and First Lady of Burkina Faso.

The awards are a bit boring for me, probably because we didn’t win;-O

I don’t feel bad because Raoul Peck wins, I think. I was there but it was a bit too low key. I guess I’m use to American awards where there is an inflection in your voice when you announce the winner. Monotone in French and English make for a drowsy evening. So when they announce, no mentioned, our category, it was hard to tell except I heard Peck’s name along with other names, then some guy that wasn’t Peck went on stage. Later I found out the winner was not Peck but the Haitian film Les amours d'un zombie (The Loves of a Zombie), by Arnold Antonin. No wonder that wasn't Peck on stage.

The ‘doctors without trace’ film I liked, Notre Etranger, won several prizes. The Moroccan film Pegase won the big prize. It was about a girl who created a fantasy world about horses and demons to escape the horrors of incest she was forced to endure. I hear it’s a different approach to a tough subject.

It’s a controversial film and some love it but others absolutely hated it. After the mother half of my Mom/Daughter duo saw it she promised to never come back to FESPACO of it won anything. Uh oh. We decide not to tell her. A winning filmmaker said he just couldn’t understand how THAT film won unless the Moroccans paid someone off. I have no opinion. I didn’t see it because I wasn’t in the mood for incest, horses & fantasy that wasn’t Catherine the Great.

Anyway Salif Keita is tonight!!

There were 2 albino films here, J-F had one and there was another about a 4 year old girl, and she loves Salif Keita. I’ve heard so much about her, and she was there at the concert! She even got on stage and danced with Salif. What a great moment.

It was Salif Keita’s birthday and he threw quite a birthday party for us. We even sang Happy Birthday twice. I love the way they throw money at the performers. His band is awesome, especially the electric kora. Wonderful, great backup singers and four different drummers.

After the concert everyone felt so good that we wanted to go out and celebrate the celebration…and so we did.

Back in the saddle pt 10

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 01:43:00 +0000

I feel better today, not 100% but good enough to go out, not good enough to eat.

Just found out how MUCH that Guy doesn’t like me. It seems there are 2 RELAX hotels. There’s the RELAX ‘Don’t do it’ Hotel of the third floor, that I’m on. And theres the RELAX Hotel on 2 and below that’s a REAL hotel. New carpet, double closets, real bathroom etc. etc. etc. and they have NO lizards! Mine is the lower end 1940’s special that Humphrey Bogart must have come thru on his way to Casablanca—and nothing has been changed since then.

This was the one time I could have acted a little more American and well, not complain but just inquire about the room condition. Doesn’t matter now, I’ve named the lizards and I’d probably miss them.

I find the Africans are terribly inefficient and it drives me crazy, but it’s easy to forgive them because they are so kind. In our fast moving efficient lives it’s easy to forget what basic human decency and graciousness is, especially when you’re Black in America. We become so use to the subtleties and stress of racism it becomes a part of your normal day. You don’t even realize it until you’re away from it.

In the states when Black people have to deal with authority figures like police, guards etc. you know you are more than likely treated with suspicion, contempt or at best ignored. (see driving while Black) If you ask questions or need help then you are an annoyance, that is, unless you are with white people. Then the kind voice ensues. This goes for Black or white authority figures.

In Africa when I would come in contact with authority figures or need help or just walking through the door (I was usually with other Black Africans so they did not necessarily see the ‘American’ me first) everyone was polite and helpful. People greet you with kindness, like cops talk to white people in the USA (they serve and protect everyone from us, cause we are always the bad guy). I found it unnerving at first and it kept happening, “Bonjour” “Bon Soir” A smile, a nod. Damn, is this how white people feel all the time? What was more amazing Black men here were not fearful of the police and they don’t feel like they are seen as the bad guy. That is an amazing load off your shoulders, a load you didn’t even realize you were carrying until the weight is lifted. Whew.

I never knew I was unconsciously approaching authority like a child that is use to being hit and is grateful when they are not beaten, even tho the child has done nothing to be beaten for. I’m going to enjoy this now because I know it will all come to an end when I step off the plane at O’Hare airport. When I get there I’m going to keep my mouth shut, ask no questions and pretend I too am loved.

Sick Pt 9

noreply@blogger.com (Babs Blabs) — Thu, 10 Mar 2011 01:27:00 +0000

It’s the middle of the night and my stomach feels like it’s going to explode! I run into the bathroom and proceed to puke my guts out. This goes on for quite a while but I’ll spare you the sordid details. Finally I crawl back into bed and sleep only to awake in the morning with more of the same. OMG will this ever stop? I have not felt this bad since, ?… I’ve NEVER felt this kind of bad before. I’m done.

Can’t do anything all day. Try to go see a film at 6pm in a beautiful outdoor theatre at the Institut Francais. It’s a cute little love story from Cote D’Ivore. The leads are there. I loved the young co-star who played the little brother of the girl. He was a superb actor and he had no lines!

Towards the end of the film I break into a sweat and start to feel nauseas again. It seems Michael and Rashid got ill as well. Something we ate at the party. Luckily they brought some medicine to me for gastro-something. Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow, but as for tonight, that’s all for me…