MMTT4S - Installment 4 - South of the Border (and not SC Pedro's Version)!

South of the Border

Unless you're a South Carolina native or a gullible tourist traveling through that state down I-95 (http://www.thesouthoftheborder.com/), that phrase once produced a sparkle of wanderlust - sleepy villages along the border or coast, cactus-dotted horizons framed by fiery sunsets, aromas of corn tortillas and spicy salsas. You just wanted to ride in on your trusty steed, be handed a plate of tamales and a crisp margarita by a pretty señorita, while a wholesome caballero kicked back beside you and played a haunting Spanish number on his 12-string gut guitar. Sounds of a fiesta a few blocks away. Maybe you'd join...maybe not. First, you'd simply desire to rest your dusty boots and turn the saddle sores over to the tequila.

...Under a vast blanket of stars. A few of which shoot across the deep navy vastness.

...With an occasional cry of a coyote in the distance. The nice kind of coyotes - not the dreaded nuisances we have today.

It conjured a flight to a rustic, simple place and time. Unlike today. No wall or cartel or 3 hour wait at the border crossing to worry about. No, this was an idealistic escape from the more modern rigors, glimmer, and speed of glitzy Hollywood, the Rat Pack Vegas Strip, and Madison Avenue.

I remember crossing into Juarez from El Paso with my wife and her parents and grandparents. We lived in Texas then and her grandmother wanted to go look for a piece of furniture, have a tasty meal, replenish her real vanilla extract, and just get away for a day. We actually drove in, though. I guess trusty steeds were not a viable option for the whole group. I don't recall hearing coyotes either. But the food was fabulous - probably TexMex for gringos like us. The margaritas were refreshing and strong. The smells and music were amazing. And I guess the furniture was good because we seldom left empty-handed. We did this more than once, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Although, according to an Al Jazeera report that claims the city is trying to make a comeback, which prompts a few laughable retorts in my mind given the irony, this is not on most people's travel agenda today (see this).

All of this Margaritaville musing simply leads us into today's Jimmy Buffett tune for the summer of '19 - "Mexico."

Yes, I know it was originally James Taylor's hit and he does it so very well in his recognizable, unique, smooth way. Admittedly, while some songs are iconic and define a performer or group and should probably never be remade, this is not one of those. Certain performers sort-of earn the right to add their spin to a classic. James and Jimmy are buds and collaborate on a few songs even. Although Buffett makes the song his with a fuller band sound and steel pans to "tropicalize" it a little, he obviously respects Taylor's tune.

It's a great remake. It's also fabulous live. "Mexico" can be found on Buffett's album Barometer Soup, his 19th studio album, and on a number of live albums as well. It's a popular choice at concerts for good reason.

So, if you suddenly find yourself south of the border, enjoy the kinder, gentler, more imaginative version. And maybe pick up a side table.

Image courtesy of itunes.apple.com

If you'd like to continue with the Mexican vibe, check out Jimmy's numerous other songs that have a Spanish influence. You can also hear similar tunes from George Strait ("The Seashores of Old Mexico"), Kenny Chesney, Zac Brown, Marty Robbins, Tim McGraw, Asleep at the Wheel, and many, many others.

Kooky Over Heller's Book

My gypsy soul has yet again been awakened, set ablaze by a kindred spirit, calling me to break free of my quiet, veiled desperation, and to live extraordinarily. Rare is the book that so stirs the soul in such a way as this. For me, Peter Heller’s book Kook has powerfully and eloquently done just that.  

image courtesy of: http://www.peterheller.net

The narration is hilariously human and the writing is superb. The English teacher in me soon got past the (stylistically intentional) sentence fragments, and floated along on the beautifully refreshing current of language that courses throughout the book – flowing when appropriate, concise when necessary, and raw when applicable.

I was swallowed immediately by the story’s premise.

Situations and relationships convince the author to grow from “kook,” a surfers’ term for pathetic beginner - a level of proficiency many never surpass, to expert in less than a year’s span. The renowned adventure travel writer’s trek takes him from Denver to California and then southward down Mexico’s ever-changing shoreline. Friends old and new, become mentors, guiding Heller along his odyssey, introducing him to swells up and down the coast, and imparting their own brands of wisdom about surfing and life.

While some of his encounters seem beyond belief (roughhousing with a juvenile sea lion, witnessing a boulder of a man create his own wave and surf it…backwards…and on his head), Heller is real. He gets rolled, wipes out, and gloriously glides his way through an unforgettable adventure of love, self-realization, and surfing. Like me, he is both cognizant and ignorant of his own faults, awkwardly paddling through screw-ups and recoveries, to the very last page. Yet, somehow, like a tragic hero who is unaware of his tragic role, he succeeds. He wins. It’s certainly no blowout victory, but it leaves the reader with a prideful, knowing smile, and an ignited passion for knowledge, adventure, and love. And with a desire to read more of his works.

Thank you, Peter Heller, for giving me - a 49 year-old, briny-blooded kook and aspiring writer, who has a knack to wander at times - hope, a renewed spirit, and a beautiful read. And thanks to my brother, Keith, a fellow kook, who is much closer to surfing his way out of kookdom than I, for recommending and letting me borrow his copy.

Check it out here!