The One Man Band

So, as with any big city, the street performers here are as diverse as the people themselves. After an incredibly long night last week Joe and I ended up wandering after a few of us had tried and failed to find a pancake place for breakfast. After two subte rides and a bus, the rest of the group headed to Friendly's. Maybe it's just that I have not been here long enough, but the idea of paying double for American food - no matter how much it "brings me back" was not appealing to either of us that particular morning. We had ventured to Belgrano by noon and were by the president's pink house and the San Telmo market. We wandered quite a bit, taking not of the future sights we should re-visit and chatted about how strange pigeons are as the scattered around out feet. Still incredibly hungry and very tired, we ran into a corner store to buy some juice and yogurt to hold us over. While there we heard something that can only be described as...strange. Even for a city as crazy as this one.

We looked out across the corner and heard a mass of drums, guitar, harmonica and kazoo. And a roaring, raspy voice singing in....English? So we took a peek. We ended up sitting down among the small crowd, eating our snack and listening to what sounded like 5 people on five or more instruments but was in fact just one scrawny, long haired, goofy guy with a huge contraption stuck to his back, chest, and mouth. A one man band.

Anyways, as the crowd dispersed we stayed true to form and decided to chat up the guy - he looked like someone with a pretty interesting story. Approaching him, we didn't even bother with Spanish as his seemed just as broken as our own. He was from Norway, and had been travelling for some months but told us (many times) how difficult it is to lug his contraption around, so he will be staying in BA for a bit. His condensed story is this:
He was studying philosophy in Norway but got restless, he said he liked it but it was all theory, no action...so naturally he did the only thing there was left to do. He dropped out of college, had no money to his name, and disassembled an old drum set one afternoon (He said he had one, but had no idea how to play the drums). He jumped on the subway with his makeshift instrument, tested to see everything made its correct sound...and began playing. Just like that.

It really is true that in times of desperation you give it all you have. Since then he has been travelling because he told us it is "weird" to play in his home town. I'd imagine so. The guy looked tired, skinny, and very street-esque. But he looked happy. He looked like he was meant for the bum life anyway, definitely not the philosophy type...at least not the nose in a book philosopher anyways. A life philosopher though, I can see him being that.

Maybe it's just that I am captivated by the type of person who can just let go like that, who can carve their own path and never look back...and act like it's the most natural thing in the world. He only complained about the weight of his drum, and of the crowded musicians’ area at the market, but not of the life he was leading. I don't think that was even in his mind though, seeing as he was the one who chose that lifestyle.

Don't get me wrong, I am not romanticizing the life of a bum...and definitely not of the one man band type...but I am glad we met. He was dirty, a little twitchy and perhaps still a little strung out on something. He looked to be closer to 40 even though he said he was only 22. But I wish him the best, and am happy with the impression he left on me. Who knows, maybe I'll see him around BA again...he might not remember me, but I'll be sure to throw some centavos his way.