Venezuelans, Italians, and La Bamba

Before I left for work yesterday, Christina brought up the idea of having a BBQ afterward since she had the day off and nothing to do. Needless to say, when I got home around 7:30 last night, there were about twenty people over in the backyard. We had margaritas and a typical vegetarian cook-out in the backyard with people ranging from around my age to the late forties. Among these people was Jim Dedderline--a legend here in Estes and apparently in other countries and areas of the world. He is known for many things, for example playing a role in over 1,000 SARs (Search and Rescue Missions) in RMNP and he has been struck by lightning three times, and he summits Long's Peak every month of the year in a particular pair of jeans (even in the winter, without long underwear!). Jim has worked in the park for twenty-five years and seems to know everyone, but he also climbs all over the world and seems to know everyone in areas he's been too.

Last night, he brought along a bunch of people, including two men from Venezuela and a woman from Italy. Now, only one of the men still lives in Venezuela and the other man and woman are married and live in Spain. They all speak Spanish and very broken English, but I am loving that I can still communicate with them. I am impressed with myself for being able to understand everything they are saying--it's just the speaking that is coming along harder. I guess that is to be expected since I don't get much practice though.

After the BBQ last night, we all headed out and went to The Rock for our usual Friday night fun, drinking, and dancing along to the Bluegrass Band of the night. Last night was definitely no exception for any of that and I love that I am dancing more and more by myself or with other people. (I was also impressed with myself for not having to buy a single drink :).) When we finally decided to leave, we realized the driving was very limited because of the margaritas at our place and the consumption at The Rock. We managed to squeeze thirteen people into Jim's van and embarked on the journey home. We were all in great moods and enjoying thinking about that night's festivities when Manola (the Venezuelan who now lives in Spain) began singing La Bamba. Everyone in the car joined along and added different car-percussion accompaniments. That fifteen minute drive home with a group of a dozen people from completely different places in life and in the world getting together to sing a simple song just really hit me.

La Bamba was one of the very first Spanish songs that took off in the States, and I thought it was very fitting for the group of people. The basic translation of the song mentions that in order to dance La Bamba, a little bit of humor is needed from everyone involved and as you dance faster and faster, I am the captain, not the sailor. It really is such a simple song with just about seven lines that are repeated, but it was all that was needed to bring that random group of people together for the ride back to our house.

This morning, I woke up in Kendall's bed (we let some of the guys crash around the house so we slept in sleeping bags on her bed together since it's bigger) to the sound of bird's trying to get into the beer bottles that were left outside on the picnic table. I got out of bed to clean it up and chase them away and then fell asleep for a little longer since I had the day off. When I finally woke up, I showered, cleaned up the house, and scrapbooked a little before Christina got home so we could head out to the Fourth of July YMCA BBQ.

The BBQ was about forty-five minutes away at a house in the middle of nowhere with the mountains as the backyard. We ate, drank, and played volleyball until leaving to go see Jim's house. When we were getting the tour of the house, Jim showed us his animal rescue where he has over a dozen turtles (including a HUGE snapper), a rattlesnake, a cobra, and a CROCODILE! We left his house after the tour so he could go play trumpet in the Estes Park "Village Band" Fourth of July concert and so we could go listen.

It poured almost all day today, and the concert was no exception. We sat on the rock steps and soaked through our jeans as the rain beat down on our jackets and we sipped hot chocolate to try and stay warm. The weather got better as the concert went on, and I realized how much I really do miss music as an everyday occurrence. I think going to the concert was really good for me because I know that I can do the park thing and have music as a constant in my life at the same time. I found myself conducting with the American Flag I was holding or fingering along to tunes I have played before and it was a nice feeling knowing that I miss that stuff. After the concert, I went up and talked to the two horn players and one of the conductors and I am now going to be a member of the "Village Band!" This will be great Colorado networking and a fun incentive to be playing, other than my regular practicing.

After the concert, we got invited to go with Jim and "The Venezuelans" to a house on the lake that one of the band members owns to watch the fireworks away from the crowds. We ate, watched the fireworks, then talked for hours with people from age nineteen to eighty. That's one of my favorite things about the park--it doesn't matter how old you are to talk with people. Everyone is a peer of everyone else despite age because of the span in the working environment. I talked with Francesca (the lady from Italy, now in Spain, married to Manolo) for a while and she encouraged me to speak more Spanish with Christina at home. Manolo also told us lots of stories, including encounters with Cesar Chavez! It was so interesting to hear about different culture experiences and they all offered their homes to us whenever we are traveling in one of those countries!

The fireworks were spectacular and the experiences with La Bamba, the community band, and talking about different cultures are the sorts of things that make me never want to leave this magical place.