We just returned from Medellin, Colombia, visiting with our housemate, Oscar, and his family and friends. Medellin is an incredibly beautiful city. It has it's upscale rich neighborhoods, as well as people struggling with poverty, and everything in between. There is much more activity on the streets of Medellin than in Philadelphia with people hustling, trying to sell something, standing in traffic, hawking baked goods, washing windshields, juggling fire at night (pretty dramatic), getting on a city bus and going to each passenger selling gum. I saw very few beggars. Everyone hustles.
What I was interested mostly in, however, was the music scene. Buskers sharing their music. I did see a few older men walking around the streets with guitars over their shoulders. A few were jamming at a bus stop. But most of the musicians I saw with Oscar's musician/nephew Daniel saw were gathered in a beautiful park near the Museo de Antioquia in the center of the city. There was one duo where one person was playing Andean flutes in native costume. They didn't want donations. The flautist's partner was hustling cd's, and that's the only donation they wanted. They didn't have anyone gathered around listening either. Maybe it was too much of a commercial hard sell. Further on, however, other musicians had large audiences listening. They were older men...in fact...all the musicians I saw were older men....and they played traditional Colombian folk songs. People were into the groove and some singing along. Traditional Colombian music seems to be experiencing a resurgence in Medellin at this time. Some of the clubs we visited featured live jam sessions and circles where people jammed into small pubs to sing the old standards. Guitar, accordian and sometimes a drum or other percussion instruments were used. A singer would stand up to sing a solo and the others would join in on the chorus.
The park rang out with music as Daniel and I made our way past the buskers, stopping to listen at each group. The weather was heavenly...mid eighties with a beautiful breeze. The sun was shining and birds were singing. It was the middle of the day and the park was busy. People took time to listen to the live music, to support the musicians, to celebrate the music tradition of Colombia.
I returned to Philadelphia to temperatures below freezing. It'll be a month or two before we street musician feel much like playing out on the streets again. Some of my busker friends don't mind the cold. Clinton plays his trumpet in any weather. The steel strings of the guitar, however, tend to do a number on the fingertips in temps belows freezing. I think I'll stick to heated Suburban Station for the next month and come up above ground on Ground Hog Day. And if I see my shadow....
