On the Road to Find Out

On entering any country there are always a few things that just seem to spring out at you. Why are they doing that? How much does it cost? Are you being serious? In Uruguay these things may seem less severe than in other countries, such as Bolivia and Brazil in South America or further away in the Far or Middle East but it’s crazy how much of an impact they still manage to have on your life. These are some of my curiosities about Uruguay that I probably spend far too much time contemplating.

Milk in Bags
This is something I first experienced in Argentina but it’s one that I’ve always found intriguing. Why would anyone think of putting a liquid substance in a bag? As a result all fridges now have an extra piece of plastic on their door so that the milk can be slotted in and remain upright. But with yoghurt also coming in bags too where’s my second piece of plastic? What you then have to do of course is actually find one of the specially-made plastic containers which are able to house these bags perfectly as well as making them very easy to pour. Maybe the plastic factories and dairies made some kind of agreement, let’s walk into the unknown together or something like that. Milk is of course also available in a carton but it’s a lot more expensive. I now use it as a barometer for judging people. If they have milk in a carton I can be pretty sure they live something of a luxurious lifestyle.

Mate/Thermos
The popularity of mate in Uruguay is undeniable. Every single person has a mate gourd (the vessel for their indulgence) in one hand and a thermos tucked under the other arm. This is most pronounced around 6pm/7pm when everyone has finished work and heads down to the promenades (in the beachside towns anyway) to catch the last bit of sun and sit around drinking mate with their family and friends. The social element is so interesting, I really think there’s no match. Coffee seems to be a very personal thing, when people buy it to take-out it tends to be something to down on their way to an important meeting and at the office it is something that is drank while doing other things. Even the Italians who seem to have the greatest love for it gulp down their expressos like no-man’s business, making it more of an aid to the conversation than a central item. Tea is more social, especially when a plate of shared biscuits is involved but it lacks mobility, one thing that could not be levelled at mate. One evening I tried to count how many thermos’s I could see on a walk down Montevideo’s rambla. Turns out I can’t count that high!

Candombe
Uruguay has many similarities with Argentina due to its proximity over the River Plate, it’s North also shares a few traits with Brazil (including a strange dialect that seems to morph the too) and generally speaking a lot of the culture could be seen as European, no surprise being that many of the people are descendents from Italian and Spanish immigrants. I think this is the reason why candombe is so popular. It’s a style of drumming developed by the mixture of African slaves brought over in the late 19th century and that has since been passed down many generations, effortlessly moving into the hands of the colonialists on the way. It is quite quintessentially Uruguayan and something that they are obsessed by. With no prior knowledge of what it was I at first found it extremely curious. It’s closest cousin in popular terms would be samba but this is so much more powerful, more insistent. Drummers pound away for hour after hour as they parade round their neighbourhoods on a weekly basis. Apart from a small intro some of the groups don’t change their rhythm for the entire 2 or 3 hour parade. After a while though it draws you in, especially while watching the strangely stilted dance that accompanies it, and the sound of the drums begins to drift into the back of your mind, just leaving this immense feeling of passion as it eventually gets you.

Books
A lot is often made of an official statistic that Uruguay is 98% literate. Personally, I feel this is slightly incorrect as there is without doubt some problems with homelessness and I very much doubt these have been included in the poll. Nonetheless, these people are obsessed with books. There are bookshops on every corner and Montevideo in particular has one street, Tristan Narvaja, which has around 30 different bookstores. Attached to this love of books though is a sense that literature is something that should not be cheap. Hence, second hand books can cost as much as a new mp3 player or a brand new pair of a shoes. Even a newspaper can end up being the most expensive item in your shopping basket, I was personally shocked when I saw that it cost more than my 3 litre bottle of Coca-Cola.

Dinner Time
Uruguayans eat late, really late, somewhere between 10pm-midnight. The amount of times I would meet people around 10pm for a drink only to find that they hadn’t eaten and that they were actually more interested in eating than drinking has been numerous, and each time, for a Brit like me has been hard to fathom. The normal English ritual of going out for a quiet drink, which is normally somewhere between 3 to 5 pints, would make you the token drunk in Uruguay. I have generally adjusted to eating really late, especially spending time in North Argentina where the siesta puts you back a few hours anyway, but still the idea of going out to eat all the time is hard for me. I never do it in England due to the cost, and would also struggle to do all the time in Uruguay for the same reasons. My ‘going out’ allowance will always simply translate as Beer allowance, it’s one cultural trait that I will always find hard to change.

One of the fascinating aspects of Uruguayan culture is the fact that through colonisation it managed to keep intact customs passed on from the slaves. Candombe is a style of drumming, which also incorporates dance and costumes, that was brought over by African slaves in the early 19th century. It has strong links with drumming practices in the Bantu regions of Africa, countries now known as Nigeria, Congo and Zimbabwe. Whereas in most instances of colonisations the activities of the slaves were marginalised in Montevideo they were eventually adopted by the middle and upper classes (although there is history of some defiance) in the 1860s and 1870s. The people were so enamoured with the style that they went so far as blacking up their faces and wearing the same basic clothing as the slaves.

Now, candombe is completely integrated with the whites of Uruguay, and is one of their proudest customs. Montevideo is continually thriving with the sound of drums. Every neighbourhood within the city has their own group who will parade the streets once or twice a week, with one performance normally on the weekend. In addition, the Wise Men’s Parade just after Christmas and Montevideo carnival allow the groups to compete to be the best group in the city.

The heritage of Uruguay is something I find infinitely interesting, but has always been quite hard to find information about, as aside from my time in Montevideo when I would very slowly read about it in Spanish, it is hard to get information. Which is why I was very excited to find out that a book has now been published. It’s called Blackness in the White Nation: A History of Afro-Uruguay and has been written by George Reid Andrews. You can check out the book HERE. And below, is an extract with some more, very interesting information about Uruguay’s Afro-origins.

Though its roots are African, candombe was created in Uruguay and exists nowhere else, my friends told me. Upon learning that I had joined a comparsa and paraded in that year’s Llamadas, a city cultural official whom I met toward the end of my stay smiled delightedly and said that I could not possibly have had a more profoundly Uruguayan experience–which I think is probably true. But as they embrace candombe as a core component of national identity, no one ever mentions feeling under siege by internationalization. The drummers seem to come to candombe not from feelings of defensiveness but for purely positive reasons, and for love of the music itself.

As we have seen, Uruguayans love candombe, and for good reason. Like samba, salsa, merengue, jazz, funk, hip-hop, and all the other African-based “national rhythms,” it is a musical form that, in the words of one informant, “won’t let you sit still.” And over the last hundred years, the comparsas have developed methods of playing it that enable them to take people with limited musical experience and turn them into juggernauts of rhythm. The music is played on three types of drums–chico, repique, and piano–each of which has a different voice–alto, tenor, and bass, respectively–and plays a different rhythmic figure. The piano hits heavy downbeats on one and four, with intervening syncopated eighth and sixteenth notes; the chico leaps in immediately following each beat with a sequence of three sixteenth notes. Both drums pound out the same stuttering phrases over and over again, in a deep aesthetic of monotony; the repique players have more freedom to improvise, and drive the group forward with their counterrhythms.

The result, when played at maximum volume and with maximum force and authority, is irresistibly powerful and compelling. Here we might recall Tomás Olivera’s memories of the 1956 Llamadas: “The cheering and applause were like an earthquake; and . . . with the thundering of the drums, the shouts of the spectators, the bombs and rockets shooting up into the sky, one had the sense that the buildings on each side of the street were about to explode into thousands of pieces.” This is an accurate and not at all exaggerated description of what it feels like to march and drum with a comparsa. The waves of rhythm put out by our drums did indeed feel strong enough to demolish the buildings around us. As we marched along on our weekly practices, we set off every car and building alarm en route; yet the whooping alarms could barely be heard as tiny yawps above the thunderous din.

Several of the drummers I talked to described the feeling of being “transported” while marching; and as we marched and drummed, digging deeper and deeper into the groove, I did feel simultaneously rooted and floating. The force of gravity and the steady reassurance of the ground had never seemed so necessary, to keep us from levitating off down the street on the cresting waves of rhythm. Yet the ground provided no rest, and was itself charged with surging electrical forces that flowed through us in a steady pulsing voltage. Everything was suffused with rhythm: the air, the ground, the universe, our bodies, our organs, and of course our drums. We were simultaneously the source, the conduit, and the recipient of that rhythm, I and fifty other drummers, hands rising and falling, legs stepping and marching, all together, all as one.

Yes, obviously the feeling is sexual–how could it not be, with these rich currents flowing through you? At the end we were exhausted, drenched with sweat, yet refreshed, relaxed, and glowing. Everyone felt good after drumming–unless, that is, we had suffered injury or exhaustion along the way, which are frequent parts of the enterprise. The marches “are a test of exceptional physical strength,” notes one analysis of the comparsas, “and psychic strength as well.” That is an exaggeration, I would say; anyone in reasonable physical condition can carry and play the drums. But there is no question that doing so while marching, listening to the rest of the group, and maintaining perfect rhythm (or trying to) for an hour or more is intensely demanding. And all drummers, even the most experienced, can tear skin off their hands as they pound the leather drumheads. Ever “the good warriors” invoked by Lobo Núñez, drummers are expected to ignore their wounds and play through the pain, heads held high and gazing coolly into the distance.

Bloodshed is just one part of the military character of the comparsas. The experience of preparing for the Llamadas is not unlike going through boot camp. There are clear lines of authority and command, based on the age, experience, and ability of the different members. Our instructor Miguel, his colleague Sergio, and their lieutenants, all work to instill a kind of martial discipline. Miguel and Sergio in particular adopt a classic good cop/bad cop approach. As we march, Sergio stalks up and down the ranks, bawling us out for our numerous shortcomings. Miguel looks on gloomily, leaving us to guess whether he is more saddened by Sergio’s ferocity or by our clumsy mediocrity.

As in any military unit, we pass long stretches of boredom and inactivity punctuated by brief bursts of intense action and excitement. Since comparsas field a lot of people, we routinely spend an hour or more waiting for everyone to show up, for drums to be tuned, for ranks to form, and so on. We pass the time smoking, joking, complaining about our “officers”; and then it is time to go over the top, into action.

These experiences produce their intended results, and gradually one becomes part of the unit, bonded to one’s fellow drummers.

From Blackness in the White Nation: A History of Afro-Uruguay, by George Reid Andrews. Copyright (c) 2010 The University of North Carolina Press.

Read more from Blackness in the White Nation: A History of Afro-Uruguay HERE

Yambo Kenia were the victorious comparsa from the two days of llamadas, or in other words they were the best drumming group from two days worth of parades. I think they have won it 3 times in 4 years now, so they are obviously doing something right.

The winner of Best Gramillero (Herb Man) was not this man, but probably someone who looks a lot like him.

La Melaza, the group I interviewed and who I think are a really great group came 22nd. That’s somewhere around the halfway mark. This video is quite good though because it was recorded off the television and probably shows the dancing clearer than most camcorder footage. There’s a real strange swagger to the way they pop their arms out and do a little two-step forward, one-step back canter. Many people actually watch the whole thing on their tv sets, saving their ears for later life I imagine.

Anyway, I gotta go, we are very close to the end of the UruguayNow website, just a few finishing touches.

The second day of candombe parades were postponed from Friday to Saturday because of a very bad weather forecast. Perhaps this was better as it gave everyone a chance to rest between days, although it did mean my Saturday night trip to the footy had to be put-off. Possibly the Saturday event was even better than Thursday’s. There was a ridiculous turn-out, with it taking at least 10 minutes just to get onto the street where it was being held (I’m gonna be really shocked when I eventually make it to Rio Carnival!)

The atmosphere is really hard to describe because there are a lot of people who are obviously completely wasted but it also feels like a family event. It’s held on a very narrow street in the neighbourhood of Barrio Sur. Everyone who lives in these houses are peering out their windows or on their balconies and rooftops dancing along. Constantly the dancers and drummers in the parade are coming over to the crowds to say hello to friends. Plus, many of the dancers are not what you would call the pick of the bunch, you could easily see a few of them at the local Weightwatchers meeting or working in a library, but this doesn’t stop them from plastering themselves with glitter and adorning a ridiculously slim amount of fancy wears. That in particular is something that I am sure must mark it out as different than Rio, although I obviously have no proof of this as yet.

It was also a ridiculously late affair. I left some time around 2.30am when my legs couldn’t take anymore. A 45 minute walk back to the flat and I turned on the TV to see that it was still going strong. This is just the start of the carnival here, there are something like 40 days left.

[I really need to get a decent camera!]

It’s been almost over a week of carnival now. It feels like its been a slow start. The opening ceremony never really got going and since then there have mainly just been a few different theatre shows and not much else. Last night (Thursday) was the first day of the candombe parades, the day I have been looking forward to most.

There were between twenty and thirty groups in total, all comprised of a set of drummers, a group of dancers and the obligatory historic characters. Among them are Mama Vieja, who looks after the whole thing, El Gramillero, otherwise known as the Herb Man who has got some seriously bad hips but despite this remains unbelievably chipper and a load of guys who are either there to entertain with a few fancy tricks or to hold the flags.

The Friday llamada has been postponed due to bad weather. The heavens suddenly decided to open up. This means we have to wait one more day for the rest of the candombe groups. In light of the hangover I am still serving I have to think this is for the best.

Some of my writing has been featured on the Museyon website. A piece called In a Nutshell: Candombe. I just read it again now it’s online and can’t believe how many mistakes I made. On top of that, a few more have crept in since it’s been published. Damn! Well, hopefully it won’t be my last piece for them, the plan is to write a few more in a similar vein.

Carnival has officially begun in Montevideo. It was all a bit underwhelming and I kind of forgot it even happened. Like when you buy a bag of Maltesers on the way home from the pub then suddenly remember their existence two days later. Does that actually happen to anyone else? Anyway, the opening ceremony had its moments but suffered from being very drawn out. Tickets had been sold for front row seats which meant all the cheapskates had to do with crowing over from a distance, and as there wasn’t really enough acts to warrant five hours of parading it all seemed a bit uneventful. I managed to stick it out for two hours before the heat and boredom crept in. There just wasn’t enough candombe and the groups which call themselves humoristas and pariodistas may just be some of the most unfunny human beings I have lied my eyes on. I have found men wearing chicken costumes funnier. It will all improve though! Next week features two whole days of Candombe and after that mini stages will be erected in every neighbourhood and there will be performances every night for the following 40 days, of which I will most likely be around for about 2. It’s the longest carnival in the world! I’m not sure if anyone is really that bothered though!

This is what it looked like:

During my first trip to Uruguay last May I briefly stayed with a bald-headed Vespa freak in Tacuarembó in the North of the country. Mainly I had chosen to couchsurf with this fellow as I fancied making a trip to his town and noticed that the guy was a keen guitarrist. In the end I got on far better with his dog, Telstar, than him but this trip was memorable for one major thing. I asked him for some Uruguayan music and he spent about an hour deciding on three albums by three different artists that I should put on my mp3 player. The first, Hugo Fattoruso, was okay, nothing special. The second was Eduardo Mateo, and I still haven’t managed to get to the third. It took me about two months before I managed to get past the first song on the Mateo album to be the fair. That song was Yulele:

The album I had been given was Mateo’s Classics Vol.1, which is a collection of songs off his first two albums. Along with Os Novos Baianos’ Acabou Chorare this is probably the album I’ve listened to the most during my trip. The fact that I knew nothing about the album and its creator making the experience even better perhaps. It’s quite clear that there is a lot going on with Mateo. His voice is constantly taking on different personalities and the lyrics, well the lyrics are pretty sad. But it’s the rhythms and the unusual melodies that really make these songs great, with some of his vocal harmonies in particular literally bringing me to my knees.

I have been trying to find out more about him but it’s a nightmare. I have been to every bookstore in Montevideo and there is nothing. I eventually managed to find a book that someone had scanned into their computer online. It’s quite interesting but all the blurring and crookedness from a bad scan job make it hard to read for any more than 5 minutes. Other than that all material on the web is in Spanish and not of much interest. There is also a massive lack of live videos on Youtube, hence the videos I am posting here.

Of which, this is another, this time featuring songs from his second album. I just read that only 443 copies of this album were ever pressed. Apparently the public were a little dismayed by the changes he’d made in his voice. After singing quite clearly on his previous albums, he’d decided to try droning his voice more, using even stranger harmonies and many people assumed this was because he had become mentally ill.

And to finish with a quote which I probably have badly-translated from Spanish:

“I am not fully realised as a guitarrist because I am not fully realised as a human being, and further I am not happy. So the music I play signifies my problems. There are spaces when I am playing when I am not me.”

Further information:
– Discography of Mateo with links to download many of his albums

Every Sunday La Melaza head out onto the streets near Parque Rodo in Montevideo to bang their drums. They’re not alone, there’s a number of different groups which march through their neighbourhood on a Sunday, as well as some groups which do it every night! La Melaza is a bit different though. I managed to get an okay recording of them playing on Sunday. You really should listen to it:

La Melaza

Okay, so my little camera/voice recorder couldn’t really handle the bass, but the main thing about this recording is just the different rhythms and the way they are using the drums. The Candombe dates back to when the slaves were brought over to Uruguay in the 18th century, and most of the candombe groups stick to the traditions as much as possible. There are three different rhythms they use.

La Melaza exist outside of this, despite the fact that they have an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of its traditions. I think the reason they have had to do this though is because they are all female. They started as a project borne from the idea of doing special for International Women’s Day and have grown as a force since then. Being an all-female group has meant that they have had to replace the normal thumping bass that ripples through candombe with different counter-rhythms, and I believe this has now set their style completely apart from all the other candombe groups out there.

I will be meeting some of them this week to do an interview so will probably be writing some more about them in the very near future. In the meantime, I also managed to get a short video clip, although the quickly-disappearing sun and my camera’s affliction to nighttime bashfulness, have not made it the cinematic glory it hoped to be. Despite this, it gives an idea of La Melaza, and also the chance to listen to some more of their mighty fine beats.

NB: Following this encounter I interviewed three members of La Melaza towards an article for UruguayNow. The article can be viewed here.

I really wanted to start with a picture of one of the candombe groups here but my camera is currently broke and I have just seen an amazing photo of something else, so I feel that will have to take precedence!

It’s the biggest yes yes yes

That’s one big cashew tree. It’s up in the north of Brazil somewhere. It produces 2.5 tonnes of cashew nuts every year. I feel pretty certain I must have eaten one of its little fruits at some point in my life, especially in my cashew heyday! I really feel like I should see if there are any jobs going at the Cashew Nut Marketing Board in England because I really feel like they’re missing some tricks. First, it turns out that there are cashew fruits as well, now there’s a tree that’s the size of the park. I’ve never wanted a cashew nut more!

Right, so I was actually gonna write about Uruguay but I’ve been getting a bit sidetracked! It’s all been Brazil and nuts so far, so I will get back on track.

It’s my second week in Montevideo now and the pace of life here as well as the people are absolutely perfect. At one million people it must be one of the smaller capitals in South America, plus most people have gone on holiday to the beach this month, which all means that the streets remain a notable sense of calm. That is, until the candombe starts, which seems to happen at 7pm most nights in a few of the neighbourhoods here and on Sunday happens for most of the day all over the place. Generally a bunch of 20 or so people banging three different types of drums in a sound that doubtless shares some similarities with samba. When it’s properly organised there’s also a group of dancers and performers, my favourite being the old man who normally does a great geriatric dance at the front. When carnival happens next months no doubt all these people will be out in force to parade the streets. We’ve already had one major procession, which was the parade of wise men last week, and there’s something really nice about the carnival here. It seems to lack the craziness of Brazil or even Notting Hill (I’m not even going to mention Nottingham carnival) but not the euphoria as everyone involved or watching seems to be having the times of their lives. As well as this being down to the fact that everyone is pretty laid back, and there’s not that many people to start with any, I think this is also due to the fact that it’s legal to smoke marijuana here, which means that dotted all along the route is the smell of green, emanating from all manner of different sources, old ladies sitting in deck chairs being the most surprising.

This country is fast becoming one of my favourites in South America, up there with Ecuador. There’s no hiding that the mindset in the smaller countries seems to fit my own so much better, and boy is it something of a relief to leave Argentina. I met some great people there, but I was also getting extremely tired of some of the arrogance there. Their feeling of superiority over Uruguay is shocking. I really hope I don’t act that same way about Wales! It is strange though in Argentina how they constantly talk about how beautiful Patagonia is yet hardly any people from the North travel there, and in fact more go to Uruguay, where they visit to enjoy the beaches, but yet hardly any of them speak glowingly of this place. Nationalism. Boy do I hate it!

Now they better have some cashew nuts in the supermarket…