Manson and so much more...

Whoa, so a lot has happened between now and my last blog. In the past three weeks I have: moshed with hundreds of people dressed in black, swum under a waterfall, done the limbo under a stick held by two Brazilian carnaval dancers, gotten quite sick, been to the forest that Bambi was based on, picnicked by a mountain lake, and so much more. In order to keep from overwhelming you and myself, I am going to divide this week by week with an entry for each over the next couple of days. And thus I begin with Week 1: Marylin Manson.

Saturday the 29th of September dawned a beautifully sunny and very nearly hot day, perfect for a day of outdoor music festival going. Somehow I had managed to convince 4 other people that going to see Marilyn Manson was a good idea, and we all met up for a picnic outside the grounds before hand. I was shocked to find, upon meeting up with my companions, that only myself and Courtney had worn black. Now, I don't know the degree of your knowledge about Marylin Manson, but I would have thought that black was the obvious color choice for his concert. (This turned out to be an accurate assumption once we got inside.)

After our picnic and getting past the street preachers outside who were trying desperately to save our poor souls (I felt bad for them; they were so earnest) we entered into what could have accurately been called Goth Convention Buenos Aires. I have never seen that much black eyeliner, even as a 9th grade girl. :-D Though my lack of skin pigmentation, black shirt, and a little black eyeliner of my own helped, I still felt pretty conspicuous. Next time someone please remind me to pull out my leather pants with buckles down the side and 4 inch platform boots. I knew my look was missing something that morning.

There were several small stages to choose from, but we mostly switched back and forth between the two main stages. The first band we watched was Cuentos Borgeanos. Their music was not bad and their stage presence was amusing, but I would have to say that the most impressive thing about them was precisely how low-slung and tight the lead singer's pants were. There must have been double stick tape involved. Carajo, an Argentina hard rock band, was GREAT. And I met the guitarist later who was a very cool guy. I believe there is a photo of me with him on facebook somewhere. The lead singer of Cabezones was in a wheel chair, and at one point his tiny daughter came out to sit on his lap as he screamed/sung something vaguely similar to a ballad.

And then there were The Locos, a Spanish ska band. They are tied with Carajo as my favourites of the pre-Manson bands. When they came out and yelled, "¿Comó estais?!!!!" everyone laughed at their Spain-Spanish. :-D At one point they had everyone in the crowd make an ENORMOUS circle so that hundreds of people could begin skipping (yes, skipping) as fast and high as they could around the circle. What a sight. Another fun sight was when the large blow-up figure of the Grim Reaper of Liberty (think Statue of Liberty.... but not) was pulled out. The lead singer yelled (en castellano), "Does anyone here like the United States?!" Again, my companions seemed to have missed the memo as a couple of them started to yell "Yes!" before realizing that everyone was booing. Whoops. Apparently one of the things that living overseas taught me that I have taken for granted is a little perspective. It wasn't that these girls didn't know that a lot of people are not huge fans of the States, they had just never come face to face with it en mass. Their reactions ranged from indignant to genuine confusion and interest. Though not everyone appreciated their political stance, I think it is safe to say their music was universally enjoyed.

And so we arrive at Marilyn. By way of my general sneakiness in crowds and some outright pushing Donna and I managed to get quite near the walkway that projected out into the crowd. Those of you who have been to similar concerts will know that as it gets closer and closer to the moment the band takes the stage people get closer and closer to one another until the inevitable instant that the desired star comes into view and the entire crowd of hundreds and hundreds of people crush ever further forward. Unfortunately for Donna this meant that after one song (luckily it was the one I had told her to download, "If I Was Your Vampire") of a jumping sea of people she was feeling sick and had to fight her way out. Easier said than done. I stayed. Complain though I might about being tall, this is one of those occasions that I thank my lucky stars it is my shoulder blade that some poor girl's face is smooshed into and not the other way around. :-D

What can I say that will give you any idea of what it is like to be at a Marilyn Manson concert? I mean, it was amazing. I left smelling like pot (not mine) and sweat (also, mostly not mine... ewww), but it was worth it to spend an hour and a half in a huge crowd all jumping in perfect unison and shouting..... well, lyrics. ;-) I do have a couple of complaints to lodge though:

1) He spent a lot of time writhing on stage which I'm sure was effective for the video of the concert, but it was not particularly enjoyable for those of us in the crowd as we couldn't see a thing.

2) For someone who claims to be annoyed by bad grammar, "If I Was Your Vampire"? Please, it should obviously be "If I Were Your Vampire". Granted, the imperfect subjunctive is really more of an option than a necessity these days, but I still would have expected better. I am considering writing him a letter to tell him so.

That is about it, except that he has a double chin. But he can't help that so I shouldn't complain. He does look far better in 4 inch platform boots and tight pinstriped pants than I'm sure I ever will so that must be of some consolation to him. However, when we were treated to a view of his naked bum at the end of the show I felt a little smug as I am quite sure his is whiter than mine... but it might be close.

I found Donna the end of the concert only to discover that her phone had been stolen along with another girl's camera. Another benefit to being tall? I guess I looked too scary to try to take something from. After peeling off our sweaty concert t-shirts we followed the crowd to the exit and the nearest bus stop where all of us must have been quite a sight. I'm sure we frightened more than a few old ladies and small children, a huge line of sweaty people clad in black and sporty streaky make-up can do that. Anyway, my story ends at a pizzeria near my apartment where Donna and I shamelessly polished off a large pepperoni pizza in record time before heading straight for our respective apartments and showers. Soap has never felt so good.

More on las cataratas de Iguazu in a couple of days...