Cyndi Lauper: Some place between heaven and hell
...written on 06.24.04, @ 12:28 a.m.
Mon June 21, 2004
Yesterday Min and I both had the day off, so we lounged around the apartment, watched a BBC version of Pride and Prejudice and then left for Nagoya to see if we could get tickets to the Cyndi Lauper concert.
Getting tickets proved to be very easy. We got to the venue early enough to head around the corner for some Chinese food. After that little snack we settled into our seats on the first floor . . . right behind the sound tech set up.
Always the adventurer, Min took us up to the front row and we sat there for a while. Min got up to go to the restroom, and while he was gone, the rightful owners came to claim their seats.
The concert was supposed to start at 6:30, but the music started at 7:00. I knew a few of Cyndi's songs, but I never followed her closely, so I was pleasantly surprised at some of her vocal athletics.
Unfortunately, the show was plagued with sound problems from beginning to end. From the first song, Cyndi was dancing around the stage, pointing to speakers, instruments and making slashing moves across her throat or would say to her crew, "get that somewhere between heaven and hell". In a few cases she used the mike to call for a towel to put over the drum and in one of her encore songs, True Colors, she kept asking for "3-gs". The sound guys in front of us just giggled at each other. Couldn't figure that one out, but everyone had fun anyway, and Min and I danced and hopped with the music.
Three times Cyndi stopped the show to talk to the audience. She called upon a young woman and her escort to come up and translate her long and flighty monologues, which they tried to do with scattered success.
At 8:30 the show was over. Maybe there was an hour's worth of music. Our tickets were 8000 yen each. After the show, I'm sure Cyndi reamed her crew another you-know-what. She was tense and never smiled, but I think she did the best she could and we enjoyed her effort.
I am at home now, for my second day off in a row. We're waiting on a typhoon to blow over. The wind has been strong this morning and the rain is blowing sideways. I'm going to try and run out to the store before it gets too bad. I'm supposed to meet with a publisher's rep today for dinner and tomorrow for a sales call.
Anyway, already this morning I've cleaned the place up. I clean and vacuum everyday. As I was cleaning the toilet, I remembered another such time in the Dominican Republic.
When I first moved to the town of San Cristobal, I lived with two other women, Susana and Chrissy. they were due to end their tenures soon, so I would inherit the house. That was the plan anyway until the landlord came in one day and told us we had to be out by the next afternoon!
We scrambled for a plan. There were two other Peace Corps workers up the street, also due to leave soon, so we asked if we could move in with them. There were three rooms and we all managed to fit. Susana was gone in a few days, the boys followed shortly thereafter, Chrissy was next and then I was alone for awhile.
In the orientation to the house, the guys had shown us how to flush the toilet. Apparently, it didn't flush on its own, so we had to help it by throwing a pail of water down its throat.
My dad was coming for a visit and I was tidying the place up. My neighbor, Candida, who was also my maid at the time was helping. She would wash my clothes by hand, and mop the floors for me. She lived right next door and even the skinniest kid in the neighborhood couldn't get between our two houses.
My house was made out of cement and had metal slats for windows that tilted with a lever. Candida and Jesus' house was made of little slats of wood that let the sun shine through and was divided in half with a wall for another tenant to share.
I remember one night I woke up screaming from a nightmare and as I finally felt my heart begin to settle in my chest, I could hear Candida's temerous voice from her house asking me if I was alright.
So anyway, I made my way to the bathroom and contemplated the non-flushing toilet. The bowl was orange and I wondered if I could get that lime off. I grabbed a screwdriver and hammer and began to hack off the years of accumulated lime and rust. "Tic, tic, tink, tick, tink" , all night long I was there toiling over the toilet boil, when I got down to the bottom and with a little whack, the screwdriver sank in deep. Uh oh!
It was a happy accident however, as I discovered the reason the toilet hadn't been flushing was because that special little blow hole was covered. It all cleaned up nicely and worked perfectly!
The next day I was sitting on my porch and my bleary eyed friend, Candida came over. We greeted each other and were talking for awhile when she asked me what was that noise that I was making last night. I was mortified to learn that I had kept them all up with my tic, tic, tinking.
On Father's Day, I called my Dad to say hello. I told him I was in my new apartment. He said he planned to visit sometime and was happy that I was in a bigger place and commented how constrained he had felt in my other toilet room, where you could imagine was the birthplace of the word, "water closet". I didn't have the heart to tell him that this toilet is the same size!
So the new place looks really good and tomorrow I should have internet service installed. I hope so, I have missed surfing and journaling at home.