Yeah Yeah Yeah La La La

Wednesday, aka 'hump day': so close to the weekend that you can almost taste it, but far enough away that you still have to find something to help you jump over the hurdle. This week, that special something was a Calvin Harris gig at HMV Forum. Luis and I fought the throngs of commuters heading home after a long day of working in the city, making it to the venue just in time to find out that the show was sold out. Damn. Luckily, there were super scalpers (the most honorable members of society, dontchaknow) to the rescue!

First scalper: 35 pounds a pop (you can do better). And giving up was not an option for us--let us trudge forward, my comrade! Together we will achieve greatness! Victory will be ours!

After a nourishing pre-gig meal of kebab and chips, we approached a second scalper and haggled the price down to 25. Still steep, but it was either that or go home. Funnily enough, the reason the show was sold out in the first place was probably, in part, because of scalpers. Scumbags. Nevertheless, we were ready to enjoy the gig.

Pulsating lights, spanning across the color spectrum--beams of acrid greens, vibrant fuchsias, brilliant whites, twinkling like the aftermath of a star explosion--like a form of extraterrestrial communication with the electronic-twinged music. Center-stage: an enormous backdrop of our fearless leader's head, as if he was the totalitarian leader, and we were his dutiful citizens.

Clap your hands? Each person clapped more vigorously than the next. Jump? We were spring-loaded, punching our fists in the air. Dance? We shimmied to the groove, unrestricted, insecurities magically disappearing: dancing for a common cause.

At once, feeling completely in your own world, but also making up a small portion of a sweaty, pulsating mass cross-section of society. Teenagers testing their rebellious sides, by sneaking sips of cider. Cougars, dressed in clothing that would have been more acceptable in the 80s, clutching at straws to hold onto their youth, hoping the lighting was favorable enough to catch the eye of a guy 20 years younger. Drunken guys, slurring along to the song they heard on a Coke advert ("Wicked choon, innit?!"). Flimsy plastic cups of beer sacrificing their lives for the cause, splattering tragically on cheap, generic shoes (thank God they only cost 1.50).

Then, the pivotal moment: the first few familiar, synthesized notes of my favorite song by Calvin Harris, 'The Girls.' "I like those mixed race girls" (hey, that's me!) Pure, shallow fun, with no room for pretension. Anyone not dancing and singing along would have to fight off a neon-clad mob of his most dutiful citizens.

When it's all over, we beg for more. A few teasing minutes of nothingness, and then our vigilance is rewarded with two more songs. In the end, we emerge from the battlefield sweaty, fatigued, and slightly deaf, but still buzzing from the adrenaline rush (or did they put something in the kebabs?).

Time to catch the tube home, ears ringing, legs more tired than after an intense Batuka session, but with a surge of endorphins flowing through my body.

Rather smugly, I smiled to myself for having just experienced the most glorious, natural high that is uniquely intrinsic with going to a gig--a feeling that no amount of pill-popping or powder-snorting fools could ever hope to mimic.Ready For The Weekend? Yes!

Dia de los Muertos, London-style

After being back in London for roughly three weeks now, my first time back in over two years since my last study abroad program ended, I've been particularly interested in finding as many interesting cultural events as possible. London is known for being a vibrant, cultural hub. Take an hour to walk around any part of London, and you'll meet people from all over the world. My MA course is practically a mini United Nations! This diversity is a large part of why I love this city so much. That being said, I come from a Mexican background (well, half of me) and I've lived in California my whole life, which sometimes feels like an extension of Mexico. In California, if I'm craving an authentic taco al pastor, or if I want to go to a mercado, I don't have to stray too far. In London, however, the Mexican population is vastly underrepresented. Because of this, it's hard to have that connection with Mexican culture that I have back home.

This brings me to today: I was exiting the tube at Tottenham Court Road station with my friend Trent, another Californian in London, because we were on a mission to find a frozen yogurt place cheekily called Snog. While we were walking, I noticed a poster for a free Dia de los Muertos celebration taking place at The British Museum! For those of you who may not be familiar with Dia de los Muertos, it's a holiday dedicated to celebrating the memories of loved ones who have passed on. Different countries celebrate in different ways, but generally there are special altars created with flowers and pictures, and there are candle-lit processions with music, dancing, and people dressed up in skeleton costumes. Here's a photo I took of two of my friends, Risha and Steena, in San Francisco in 2007: Dia de los Muertos in SF

Having never been to The British Museum before, I don't know what to expect but it sounds like it will be a fun way to spend a Sunday in London!

Now to figure out how to make a gluten-free version of pan de muertos...