Corso, El Torrero and professional dancers
Last Sunday night we stopped over at Corso for a while and had a half liter of Stella Artois for less than 1 euro. The only beer size offered in town is half liter.
Actually the reason I was there was to look a little at their paintings on the walls. Among many differently aged canvases was a small painting of a sunflower with tentacle-like protuberances which appeared to want to strangle the viewer. In undulating letters the title was there, "Sunflower Light". I realized then that the tentacles were supposed to be rays from a sunlike flower which grew like a giant planet over well-painted fields of thousands of identical green bulbs. The whole canvas was no bigger than 12 cm on each side but it was painstakingly painted and looked almost like a stamp in preciseness. We walked around the corner and the Stil disco (Philly Classics) was deserted. I don't know how they keep that one alive if it's only open twice a week and deserted on any given night.
Making our way to Lemon 2, where Serbian Night was supposed to rock the spot, the only rocking was from hiphop youths with chains and cool caps, swaying to the sounds of some R&B female singer. We left in a hurry and stepped right into El Torrero, the latino disco which right away promised to be the spot for the night. In a brick arcaded cave, the bar was busily pumping out the taps and the shots, while the crowd was largely composed of very nubile females gyrating to what sounded like a mixture of gypsy, brazilian and techno themes. I cannot describe the movements of the dancers because if you've ever watched dance contests you know what they can do. Anyway we acted like the naive tourists and did our bland shake and bake under many inquisitive looks. That's one thing that stands out here, while I attract some attention with my non-conventional looks, no one is pretending to ignore me and people are generally not defensive about my equally obvious curiosity towards them. We drank and smoked and danced and laughed at the amazing dancers with their funky skirts and thongs and long hair. It's mandatory here for young women to have long hair, young men to have short spiky hair and everyone to have pointy shoes that are a few cm longer than any reasonable length might do.
I thought I was going to see mostly goth-like figures among the trendy. The effects of 50 years of communism certainly must have imprinted a dark outlook on the promises of yet another new era. But effectively the popular crowd is well-behaved, rocks out in unison, laughs a lot and doesn't avert their look when caught by surprise. Overall a high score for appearances, but they may be studied. Inside I suspect a common desire for easy entertainment, no responsibilities and means of transportation as close as possible to ferraris and american limousines.
At two in the morning we had pizza on a pleasant restaurant terrace in one of the many non-stop allnight locales, while in their basement a sweaty team of women from the province rolled dough and spread tomato sauce for their measly daily earnings.
Actually the reason I was there was to look a little at their paintings on the walls. Among many differently aged canvases was a small painting of a sunflower with tentacle-like protuberances which appeared to want to strangle the viewer. In undulating letters the title was there, "Sunflower Light". I realized then that the tentacles were supposed to be rays from a sunlike flower which grew like a giant planet over well-painted fields of thousands of identical green bulbs. The whole canvas was no bigger than 12 cm on each side but it was painstakingly painted and looked almost like a stamp in preciseness. We walked around the corner and the Stil disco (Philly Classics) was deserted. I don't know how they keep that one alive if it's only open twice a week and deserted on any given night.
Making our way to Lemon 2, where Serbian Night was supposed to rock the spot, the only rocking was from hiphop youths with chains and cool caps, swaying to the sounds of some R&B female singer. We left in a hurry and stepped right into El Torrero, the latino disco which right away promised to be the spot for the night. In a brick arcaded cave, the bar was busily pumping out the taps and the shots, while the crowd was largely composed of very nubile females gyrating to what sounded like a mixture of gypsy, brazilian and techno themes. I cannot describe the movements of the dancers because if you've ever watched dance contests you know what they can do. Anyway we acted like the naive tourists and did our bland shake and bake under many inquisitive looks. That's one thing that stands out here, while I attract some attention with my non-conventional looks, no one is pretending to ignore me and people are generally not defensive about my equally obvious curiosity towards them. We drank and smoked and danced and laughed at the amazing dancers with their funky skirts and thongs and long hair. It's mandatory here for young women to have long hair, young men to have short spiky hair and everyone to have pointy shoes that are a few cm longer than any reasonable length might do.
I thought I was going to see mostly goth-like figures among the trendy. The effects of 50 years of communism certainly must have imprinted a dark outlook on the promises of yet another new era. But effectively the popular crowd is well-behaved, rocks out in unison, laughs a lot and doesn't avert their look when caught by surprise. Overall a high score for appearances, but they may be studied. Inside I suspect a common desire for easy entertainment, no responsibilities and means of transportation as close as possible to ferraris and american limousines.
At two in the morning we had pizza on a pleasant restaurant terrace in one of the many non-stop allnight locales, while in their basement a sweaty team of women from the province rolled dough and spread tomato sauce for their measly daily earnings.