http://reflectivesurfaces.bandcamp.com/

“Well, brother David, if you’re willing to work with us, we’re sure willing to work with you (praise God).”

A member of the flock showed up at random in the middle of this.

“Oh, your name is David too? Another giant slayer! (Thank you Jesus)”

“Um, well I don’t have any giants to slay…”

I agreed to come for a week, Sunday and Wednesday, and then reassess the situation. Come Sunday, I was given a lengthy introduction…

“…now brother David has not played in a church before, but he is willing to learn with us (praise Jesus). And anyone who is willing to LEARN the GOSPEL (hallelujah!) is welcome in this house of God (amen). And we thank God for bringing brother David here today (thank you Jesus), for He knew what we needed, and He knew what brother David needed…”

…and then I was simply told to start playing. I plunked out a few churchy sounding chords and the service got going. It was Father’s Day, and the service was conducted by three guest preachers, of increasing intensity. The first:

“Now today is not just a day for fathers, it’s also His day. In fact, every day is His day…”

The next told the story of his darkest moment — his leg was set to be amputated, his wife left him, his car was repossessed. But with the help of Jesus, the doctors were able to save his leg, a mysterious stranger paid rent for his new apartment, etc.

“And this did not happen two thousand years ago! (Thank you Jesus) A miracle in my own life time, God came and took care of me when I needed Him! (Hallelujah!)”

The third was a lady who asked me to play organ in A minor, so I made up a little progression which was apparently good enough (“Keep doing that”). She belted out a song, preached a lengthy sermon about the Midianites…

“And you had seven hundred and twenty dollars put away (Lord), and you KNEW where that money was, but when you returned it had been taken from you (my God)! And that is the Midianite presence in your home! (Praise Jesus)”

…and then she proceeded with the faith healing. Yes, I accompanied a faith healing session. Well, actually most of it was her own CD of gospel music, while I sat there twiddling my thumbs. At the end of the day, they gave me an uncomfortably long goodbye, asked expectantly if I would come back, and actually took a collection to pay me (“a blessing for brother David”). So far, so good?

I went back on Wednesday and it started out fun and raucous. I kicked off the night with a long improvisation, ranging from stiff-necked hymnal stuff to rhythmic driving gospel with some odd excursions in between. The preacher went all out singing along with it. While it was winding down I experimented with imitations of everything he spoke or sang, following the melody and contour to make it sound like a call-and-response.

We eventually wrapped the music up so the preacher could start speaking in earnest, and that’s when it began turning sour. I say “speaking”… half the time I spent cringing in anticipation of him screaming, his distorted voice blasting out of a speaker directly behind me. Combine this hostile auditory environment with a very uncomfortable chair, and a few key moments:

Guest preacher #2 from Sunday: “The antichrist is going to be a homosexual, you know.”

or, among others:

Pastor: “Maybe someone you used to pray with has stopped living for God, and they are doing the drinking and the drugging and the fornicating…”

Lady in the audience: “Or they became a lesbian!”

Pastor: “Yes, maybe someone in your life who was saved has turned from Jesus…”

…and I realized this would be my last day.

I told the preacher in the parking lot that I wouldn’t be coming back, that I had done the two days I promised and that was enough. He was disappointed and wanted to get more of an explanation out of me, but having just been submitted to two hours of what felt like verbal assault, I didn’t have it in me.

So the west side of the round-Burque trip is solid. The next leg is the trail running along Paseo Del Norte, which is not nearly as pleasant, being in view and earshot of the road. It also rises and falls a lot. This trail curves south and puts you onto the Diversion Channel trail, which runs from Balloon Fiesta Park to University of New Mexico. This trail is elevated from the city on top of very steep concrete arroyo walls, maybe 40 degrees, down 25 feet. It takes you through a strip mall area, which you get to see from the back, with all the loading bays and storage areas. (By the way, the arroyo wikipedia page mentions this very arroyo.)

On my scouting trip, I took that trail all the way south and went home. The next time, I scoped out the eastern half of the trip. Going east from downtown, you have to take streets for a few miles, but you eventually get to Paseo de las Montañas trail. This trail runs along a shallow arroyo, and it plods heedlessly across the large gutters draining into the arroyo from the side — meaning the cyclist has to deal with some unexpected five-foot dips.

This takes you to the trail running parallel to Tramway Blvd. Going north on this, you get an awesome view of the Sandia Mountains, but the trail sucks. The road is loud and busy, and you have to cross every street that intersects it. Tramway curves west when you get to the northeastern corner of Albuquerque, and the trail ends there. My map, however, claims that the road itself is good for bicycles by virtue of its “wide shoulders.”

Well. First of all, the traffic is very fast. The shoulders are wide, but not wide enough to make the cars feel very distant. Second, there is absolutely no cover from the wind coming off the mountains. I had never experienced wind like this in my life. It was blowing directly against me, and as hard as I pedaled I could hardly top 5 miles per hour — 50 MPH slower than the cars 10 feet to my left. (I checked the weather after the fact, and apparently there were gusts going even faster than the cars. Guess I should have considered that beforehand…)

And finally, the route doesn’t lead anywhere! It takes you past Sandia Casino and to Interstate 25, but then you’re SOL. There isn’t a single road going south off Tramway until you get to the highway, and the access road is really not bikable either. The map had made it look like I’d be able to get to Balloon Fiesta Park, just south of that intersection, but instead I had to keep following Tramway west. Past I-25, Tramway becomes Roy Ave and the shoulder disappears, and when I eventually found a way south, it was far out of my way on very bike-unfriendly roads. When I got home hours later, my eyes, ears and nose were full of grit, my bones felt strained and weak, and I didn’t even have the energy to take a shower. I won’t be going that way again.

So there are the ups and downs of my biking in Albuquerque so far. Anyone want to come with me on the beltway trip? I’ll find a better alternative to Tramway…

I am living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, a city I only knew from its airport before December. I had planned to return to Santa Fe from Argentina because it would be too troublesome (and expensive) to move to a new city. But while I was in Buenos Aires a visiting friend of mine brought up Albuquerque, because it received an unexpected influx of College of Santa Fe music students as pseudo-transfers (it’s a long story). So with a contingent of friends here, a cheap 90 minute train ride between the cities, and the cost of living much lower, I chose Albuquerque.

In retrospect, the impression I had gotten of Albuquerque while living in Santa Fe was cartoonish and ridiculous. All I knew was that it housed the massive, frat-ridden University of New Mexico, and that it was “sketchy.” The word “sketchy” is uselessly vague, a catch-all condemnation that implies crime, poverty and danger while not holding the speaker to anything specific.

I have not heard gunshots on a regular basis. I have not been offered heroin by strangers. I have not been stopped by a police car to warn me to stay east of a particular street. I have not been panhandled by 5-year-olds. So, after living in Buenos Aires, it would be pretty disingenuous of me to call Albuquerque sketchy.

On another note, I need to get this off my chest: to any Santa Feans reading this, did you know that Albuquerque is by far the better city to bicycle in? More bike lanes, more bike trails… there’s even a centrally located street with purple signs labeling it a “Bicycle Boulevard,” and a speed limit of 18 MPH! No joke: 18 MPH. All this while having five times the population, and leaning much farther to the right… Santa Fe, you have work to do.

And to tie up another loose end, I left you hanging with regard to that classic rock band a few posts ago. I did get into Stratus Phear and I played a few shows with them, but I quit a while ago. It was okay, but $50 just didn’t justify hanging out at those particular bars for an entire weekend night. Not to mention the prep time.

Okay, there’s the status report on my new home. I will try to come up with something more focused for next time.

Potato asparagus yogurt jalapeño casserole

1. Get out a bundle of asparagus, some garlic, two tomatoes, two jalapeños, a red bell pepper, plain yogurt, a potato, a little spinach, three ounces of Limburger hummus, and 12 Moravian beets and stare at them for as long as necessary.
2. Put the Limburger hummus and Moravian beets back in the fridge.
3. Chop asparagus, and fry it in olive oil with some salt. Put it aside once it’s sufficiently fried.
4. Stab the potato. Put it in the microwave and press the “Baked potato” button. If your microwave does not have a “Baked potato” button, buy a microwave that does have a “Baked potato” button.
5. Fry the garlic for a few minutes, while chopping the bell pepper and jalapeños. Quarter the tomatoes.
6. Add the peppers and a handful of spinach to the garlic and fry for 148 seconds. Then throw in the tomatoes and keep covered until the bell peppers are tender. If your tomatoes aren’t juicy enough to steam properly, put in a little water with them.
7. Mash your newly baked potato with a fork, and throw in a few spoonfuls of yogurt. Mash the yogurt into the potato.
8. Lay the asparagus on top of the potato, and the pepper stuff on top of it, and eat.

This is not really a gimmick: I invented this meal with the most honorable intentions, and I share it with you because I found it to be delicious. But if you need a stronger motivation, think of the strawberry won ton meatloaf you can make me eat afterwards.

PS: steaming jalapeño tends to infuse jalapeñoness into all the other stuff steaming with it. Be careful. The asparagus and potato are your safe foods.

I am trying out for a classic rock cover band tonight. The audition selection:

Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas

Never Been Any Reason by Head East

Who’s Crying Now by Journey

Blue Bayou by Roy Orbison

With the exception of the last one, which sounds like Orbison crippled the melody of Desafinado until it worked with a country guitar progression,  I like the songs. A handful of interesting, challenging rock songs like the Kansas could make up for a good amount of boring crap. So assuming these guys can play, it seems like a pretty good gig. Also, with some tight pants and a perm I would make a pretty okay eighties rock star.

But I’ve just been assured by someone who needs a keyboardist to play Taylor Swift and “progressive country,” that his band will pay a lot better. See, they play at casinos rather than bars, and they’re “grooming” his niece, the singer, to be some kind of pop star.

I may have made this sound like it was a hard decision for me, but no, it’s not really. Even assuming I am not too scruffy and strange for this guy to allow me to back up his niece, the pay difference would be swallowed up by a burgeoning drinking and gambling problem to help me forget the shame. You have to draw the line somewhere, and mine comes after Journey but before casinos. And long before this music video.

http://www.myspace.com/reflectivesurfaces

Or you can avoid Myspace and listen to the WAV at:

http://www.ourstage.com/profile/reflectivesurfaces/songs

I am in charge of the guitar and drum machine. Jenny Luna is singing and playing keyboard.

2) Spinach/carrot/mackerel fried rice.

3) Near-lethal doses of yerba mate.

4) Paprika on everything.

I don’t have a real post today. I’ve been putting all my energy into writing songs, partly inspired by my time here. I toyed very briefly with putting some lyrics up here as a sort of filler, but as Voltaire wrote, ”Anything too stupid to be said is sung,” so I think I’ll wait until I get a demo together. I’ll be converting this from a travel-blog into the regular sort (that is, I will change the title) when I come back to the states next week. Thanks to everyone for reading. I may have one more Buenos Aires post in me before I leave, but no promises.

But remember, you don’t have to stop reading mine just because his is better. You can read both!