The Jazz Café
Thursday night, I went to San Pedro (the town in which UCR is located, a few minutes outside San José) and met up with Mike and a few other IFSA kids to head to the Jazz Café, one of the best live music venues in the country, to see Sasha Campbell, one of the best jazz singers in the country. For most of us, this was our first real live music experience in Costa Rica, and we were pretty excited. Little did we know how much ridiculous the night would have to offer.
9p.m.-ish -- Arrived at the Jazz Café and headed to the table I had reserved (because I'm just that classy). We were pretty close to the stage but off to the side, so we pretty much got a view of the pianist's butt and could sort of see the singer. The place was so dark that you couldn't read the plastic table-menu without candlelight. We had an unlit candle on our table and spent the first 45 minutes or so attempting to get this lighted and generally receive any kind of attention from the wait staff.
10p.m. -- Sasha Campbell and her band arrived. Before performing their first number, an actress came on stage and read a poem in Spanish that we didn't entirely understand but seemed to be of a romantic, sassy nature. Sasha sang completely in English, and I'm pretty sure everything was a cover of popular r&b songs from the 70's-90's, ranging from Marvin Gaye and Janet Jackson to Tina Turner and Billy Joel. She had a great jazzy alto voice, and her English pronunciation was pretty good with the exception of her "th"s, which came out as "d"s, characteristic of the Caribbean. For the second song, Sasha's crazy sister came on stage and offered an interpretive dance. It was weird. In between every song or so, the actress returned and read another poem. She always seemed very pleased with herself and the crowd seemed enthused as well.
11:30ish -- The band took an intermission. A little old man who may or may not have been invited came up on stage with a drum and began to sing a song about monkeys. I couldn't complain. He also told some strange jokes about gringos drowning and shampoo. It loses something in the translation. At this point I made a trip to the ladies' room. While waiting in line, I saw a poster that explained the poetry: we had somehow managed to come to the Erotic Soul Night concert.
When I emerged from the bathroom, a kind woman in line told me that I might want to adjust my skirt, as the back of it had folded itself into a precarious situation. Feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, I blushed and thanked her profusely for telling me. As I returned to the table, another woman in the line turned to me, placed her hands near my... er, rear end, and said--possibly trying to lessen some of my embarrassment--in English: "very sexy, very sexy!" I took a moment, thanked her abstractedly, and promptly scurried back to the table before my MIND COULD EXPLODE.
1:30a.m.-ish -- now getting toward the end of Sasha's set. Following the example of our neighbors, we all got up and slow danced around the table (there really was no actual dancing area) to some Marvin Gaye. Afterward, a large man came over near our table, standing directly between our table and the stage (so we couldn't see) and began doing some sort of upper-body-only Robot. He was clearly trying to get Sasha's attention, and eventually got it. She invited him up on stage to dance for everyone. He brought a girl up on stage with him and they proceeded to do what was, without question, the most explicit dancing I have ever seen. We all sort of exchanged looks and laughed.
Also, around this time we noticed that a Costa Rican celebrity was in the club that night... I don't know his name, but he plays soccer for Saprissa (one of the national teams that is sponsored by a bread company called Bimbo) and was one of the finalists in Bailando por un sueño.
That pretty much sums up the night. As anything we do, it had its crazy moments but was thoroughly enjoyable.
The next day, Mike and I just strolled around the mall and saw Knocked Up, which neither of us really liked... I was really disappointed. I had heard that it was really funny but I laughed MAYBE three times. I just don't think "oh you smoke pot and are gonna be a terrible father" is a terribly funny concept, sorry.
The rest of the weekend was filled with not leaving the house due to massive papers that are still threatening my life. Not really, they're getting done. But anyway. Time to head to class!
9p.m.-ish -- Arrived at the Jazz Café and headed to the table I had reserved (because I'm just that classy). We were pretty close to the stage but off to the side, so we pretty much got a view of the pianist's butt and could sort of see the singer. The place was so dark that you couldn't read the plastic table-menu without candlelight. We had an unlit candle on our table and spent the first 45 minutes or so attempting to get this lighted and generally receive any kind of attention from the wait staff.
10p.m. -- Sasha Campbell and her band arrived. Before performing their first number, an actress came on stage and read a poem in Spanish that we didn't entirely understand but seemed to be of a romantic, sassy nature. Sasha sang completely in English, and I'm pretty sure everything was a cover of popular r&b songs from the 70's-90's, ranging from Marvin Gaye and Janet Jackson to Tina Turner and Billy Joel. She had a great jazzy alto voice, and her English pronunciation was pretty good with the exception of her "th"s, which came out as "d"s, characteristic of the Caribbean. For the second song, Sasha's crazy sister came on stage and offered an interpretive dance. It was weird. In between every song or so, the actress returned and read another poem. She always seemed very pleased with herself and the crowd seemed enthused as well.
11:30ish -- The band took an intermission. A little old man who may or may not have been invited came up on stage with a drum and began to sing a song about monkeys. I couldn't complain. He also told some strange jokes about gringos drowning and shampoo. It loses something in the translation. At this point I made a trip to the ladies' room. While waiting in line, I saw a poster that explained the poetry: we had somehow managed to come to the Erotic Soul Night concert.
When I emerged from the bathroom, a kind woman in line told me that I might want to adjust my skirt, as the back of it had folded itself into a precarious situation. Feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, I blushed and thanked her profusely for telling me. As I returned to the table, another woman in the line turned to me, placed her hands near my... er, rear end, and said--possibly trying to lessen some of my embarrassment--in English: "very sexy, very sexy!" I took a moment, thanked her abstractedly, and promptly scurried back to the table before my MIND COULD EXPLODE.
1:30a.m.-ish -- now getting toward the end of Sasha's set. Following the example of our neighbors, we all got up and slow danced around the table (there really was no actual dancing area) to some Marvin Gaye. Afterward, a large man came over near our table, standing directly between our table and the stage (so we couldn't see) and began doing some sort of upper-body-only Robot. He was clearly trying to get Sasha's attention, and eventually got it. She invited him up on stage to dance for everyone. He brought a girl up on stage with him and they proceeded to do what was, without question, the most explicit dancing I have ever seen. We all sort of exchanged looks and laughed.
Also, around this time we noticed that a Costa Rican celebrity was in the club that night... I don't know his name, but he plays soccer for Saprissa (one of the national teams that is sponsored by a bread company called Bimbo) and was one of the finalists in Bailando por un sueño.
That pretty much sums up the night. As anything we do, it had its crazy moments but was thoroughly enjoyable.
The next day, Mike and I just strolled around the mall and saw Knocked Up, which neither of us really liked... I was really disappointed. I had heard that it was really funny but I laughed MAYBE three times. I just don't think "oh you smoke pot and are gonna be a terrible father" is a terribly funny concept, sorry.
The rest of the weekend was filled with not leaving the house due to massive papers that are still threatening my life. Not really, they're getting done. But anyway. Time to head to class!