Remember when I wished you could hear the music in the hallways at the primary school where I teach on Fridays?
Well, now you can.
Sivesen.
Showing posts with label discos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label discos. Show all posts
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Common Denominators in Discoteques
The following songs will always, always, always, no matter where you go, play in sweaty smokey grindy clubs:
For this, I am grateful. Especially the last one, which makes me dance so hard people get out of the way.
---
I meet Ákos (Ah-kosh), who speaks as much English as I speak Hungarian. Our conversation is one long game of charades. His eyes are slow-drunk, delicate sage-green rings that are glued to his cell phone as he shows me picture of a baby girl (not his), earrings (yeah, I don't know either), and takes down my prized facebook information. "Nem mobil! Dancing!" I tell him, and we dance our way to the floor, packed with grinding university students, hands waving as house music plays. Standing by the bar, while I wait for him to buy me a drink, we talk geography. I don't know how this began -- it was sometime before we clinked glasses of palinka and said egészségére, but after he showed me the earrings picture.
In what I feel is a quintessential drunk-guy-thing-to-do, he makes a heart with his hands, says "Hungary," and a smile creeps on his face as he tilts his head slightly to one side. Then, one hand chopping the air in a downward motion (picture hands scowling and shrugging) and with twisted lips, he spits disdainfully: "Slovakia," (Nem), "Romania," (Nem as well), and just as quickly his hands quit dissing other countries and go back to shape his unsteady heart, "My Hungary. I love my Hungary." I love his Hungary too.
---
And speaking of music, I wish you could hear the hallways between periods at the schools where I teach. They sound like children shuffling and bassy dub-step, which is pumped at full volume through the speakers. If you close your eyes, it could be a disco. So far I have not heard any of the classic club stand-bys, but I have heard "All I Want for Christmas is You" and way more Skrillex than I would care to.
This is the kind of music that is bumping as the kids hang out in the hallways:
---
We all know what happened when I was in South America. Cumbia, the ridiculously boppy and poppy music that I couldn't stand when I arrived, eventually became my jams. Please, please, kérem, save me from dubstep!
---
For this, I am grateful. Especially the last one, which makes me dance so hard people get out of the way.
---
I meet Ákos (Ah-kosh), who speaks as much English as I speak Hungarian. Our conversation is one long game of charades. His eyes are slow-drunk, delicate sage-green rings that are glued to his cell phone as he shows me picture of a baby girl (not his), earrings (yeah, I don't know either), and takes down my prized facebook information. "Nem mobil! Dancing!" I tell him, and we dance our way to the floor, packed with grinding university students, hands waving as house music plays. Standing by the bar, while I wait for him to buy me a drink, we talk geography. I don't know how this began -- it was sometime before we clinked glasses of palinka and said egészségére, but after he showed me the earrings picture.
In what I feel is a quintessential drunk-guy-thing-to-do, he makes a heart with his hands, says "Hungary," and a smile creeps on his face as he tilts his head slightly to one side. Then, one hand chopping the air in a downward motion (picture hands scowling and shrugging) and with twisted lips, he spits disdainfully: "Slovakia," (Nem), "Romania," (Nem as well), and just as quickly his hands quit dissing other countries and go back to shape his unsteady heart, "My Hungary. I love my Hungary." I love his Hungary too.
---
And speaking of music, I wish you could hear the hallways between periods at the schools where I teach. They sound like children shuffling and bassy dub-step, which is pumped at full volume through the speakers. If you close your eyes, it could be a disco. So far I have not heard any of the classic club stand-bys, but I have heard "All I Want for Christmas is You" and way more Skrillex than I would care to.
This is the kind of music that is bumping as the kids hang out in the hallways:
---
We all know what happened when I was in South America. Cumbia, the ridiculously boppy and poppy music that I couldn't stand when I arrived, eventually became my jams. Please, please, kérem, save me from dubstep!
---
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