To Love and to Dance
MONTAUBAN-SUR-L’OUVÈZE, France – Last night there was a milonga in the French countryside. People came from all over, chasing the elusive thing. Dancing tango around the world, I feel that I am part of an underground sect. We have our secret gathering...
The Brave Life
MONTAUBAN-SUR-L’OUVÈZE, France – Today we went to the source of the Ouvèze river. Eventually, the Ouvèze feeds the Rhône near Avignon, but up here in Haut Provence, just before the Alps take over, it is a trickle dressed only in moss-covered rocks. When you slip into...
Madrid by Mavi
[Note: This piece was originally published in July 2010. As I am on tour now and visiting many of the same venues that I discovered for the first time with Mavi, it seemed like a good time to revisit this piece. And anyway, it's always a good time to...
The Embrace is the World
ZARAGOZA, Spain – If you listen carefully enough, other people will tell you everything you need to know. I’m an artist with a need to express and I have my Sunday soapbox… but I’d much rather listen to someone else telling a good story or saying something...
Master and Servant
BUDAPEST, Hungary – Last night, after our concert at the Budapest Music Center, a man came up to María and said, “You are a master of your craft and a servant of your art.” Truer words were never spoken: the master, despite all appearances, is indeed the...
Paris, the Feast
PARIS, France – Hemingway called Paris “the moveable feast” and I can see from where he got the idea. It seems there is nothing the French like more than cooking up some gourmet meal and then lugging it down to the Seine, out to the Atlantic...
The Man I Was to Become
It was a long time in coming, but finally I met the man I was to become. Along the way – and first – some other people pointed me in the right direction. As you move through life, you cross paths with countless others. A few resonate with you in deep ways. It is, I...
Poems That Move You
After all the harangues, the children hawking baubles, the young men with hard-luck stories and health dramas, it is a relief when the poets come down the aisle of the Buenos Aires subway trains. They are soft-spoken if they even speak at all. They are well but simply...
Just a Tuesday Night in Buenos Aires
It’s how I always thought it should be: a string of diffuse and magical happenings super-imposed on each other but offered without much fanfare. Gatherings where all the people who needed to be there just were. Nights full of the unexpected that you somehow knew would one day come your way.
Palermo with Frogs
As the sun was starting its below-horizon test firing, I stumbled sleepily across Av. Libertador and into my morning routine. Ahead of me, the parks of Palermo were covered in a wispy, teasing fog that removed the bases of trees while leaving their tops;...