El Paso

As an aside, the app is giving me writing prompts, as if my problem is a lack of content rather than a lack of time! Today’s prompt is “What is your favorite form of exercise?” The answer is definitely a nature hike, but how often do I take a hike? Almost never. So, the actual answer ends up being “Whatever I can manage in my living room or when my dog drags me on my walk.”

Back to the program: El Paso. I went to El Paso this weekend to see Eden Muñoz live in concert. Eden Muñoz used to be the singer and accordion player for Calibre Cincuenta, but he went out on his own. Calibre Cincuenta was one of my favorite bands. We’ll see what they produce without Eden Muñoz and whether they remain one of my favorite bands. They are in a class of norteño called norteño-banda because they incorporate a sousaphone in the mix. Traditional norteño for a while now has incorporated a saxophone; the sousaphone is a bit of a nice change, in my opinion. Of course, norteño-banda often has the full brass band. Eden Muñoz has gone all out for the full brass.

The concert was amazing. The only drawback was being in the Abraham Chavez concert hall where there is no dance floor; the music is meant for dancing. But still, imagine two accordions, a bajo sexto, a tololoche, a vihuela, a full brass section, and multiple percussion instruments. The music is very complex yet draws a young audience because of the resonant lyrics and the danceable melodies. Also, the music traditions are carried on and reinterpreted by younger musicians.

I’m explaining this because people are generally surprised that I love this music so much, and it shouldn’t be surprising. We have some intriguing musical traditions here, in classic bluegrass or Zydeco, for example, but they don’t quite reach the level of impact that Mexican music achieves. My reaction to Mexican music is at the level of visceral, reaching my heart and soul, so I’ll just leave it at that and not overexplain it.

The theater is in downtown El Paso, and the hotel I reserved was less than a mile away. Because I’m from New Mexico, the state with the highest crime rate in the country, I’m used to hotels being behind gates and a general creepiness when walking around at night. I have been assaulted in Albuquerque while walking at night because I wouldn’t give a crazed drug addict money; my daughter has been mugged; car thefts and property crime are part of the culture here.

Imagine my surprise when I didn’t feel uneasy walking in downtown El Paso at night; this isn’t what I’m used to. I’m not an anxious person. I don’t worry about much of anything. I’m often surprised to hear that women fear for their lives constantly and that this is something men don’t understand about women. At least, this is what I’m told. I can guarantee you that I can’t remember the last time I feared for my life. When I was 14, I almost drowned in a lake. So, more than thirty years ago…? But it’s still good to listen to feelings of unease, which you will get if you visit Albuquerque. Sorry, that’s just the reality. Roswell isn’t much better. It’s smaller; that’s all.

Anyway, I found El Paso refreshing because I wasn’t bothered by crazed drug addicts. Yeah, I’m sure there are plenty there, but I’m guessing the local police must clear them out regularly. Anyway, I’ve always been fascinated by weird places like El Paso. It is a weird city because it’s the pit or hollow of the American Southwest. The landscape is hilly and has mixed architectural elements. Oh, and Juarez backs right up to it. Juarez used to be fun to visit, too, but I haven’t been in years. It started getting a little crazy with the violent crime. Like Albuquerque.

This morning, I walked a few blocks to attend Mass at St. Patrick’s in downtown El Paso. It’s a beautiful church with bad acoustics. I couldn’t hear a word of the homily or readings, but God’s presence will still fill a church during Mass. His presence doesn’t require hearing. The only missals I could find in the pews were in Spanish. Can I read Spanish? Of course. But the Mass I managed to make it to was in English. Ah, well, it took me around five minutes or so to realize I was even reading Spanish. My brain is so accustomed to Spanish by now that I found myself the other day accidentally (mentally) translating English into Spanish instead of the reverse. I wish this was a sign of fluency, but I rather think it’s a sign I’m going out of my mind. It’s been happening for a while now. Going out of my mind, I mean.