I passed the didgeridoo-ers at first but quickly doubled back. The rest of the gringos had gone home. I was alone at 7:00 at night in the beautiful city of La Serena and my bus home to Antofa didn't leave until 10:30. After a week-long vacation of drinking and smoking and eating and sleeping in a cabaña with a group of friends from my program, I had blown through a month's worth of my budget. I didn't have the money to hide out in a bar or restaurant. Why not just hang out with some Chilean skateboarders playing a didgeridoo in a park?
As I approached I heard a high pitched ring. It's source caught my eye before anything else. Miguel explained to me that it was a Tibetan Bowl - a small bowl made of metal that one struck with a inch thick dowel then traced the outer edge with said dowel to sustain the subtle, mesmerizing ring. Miguel passed it to me and told me to try it out. It was the aural equivalent of watching a merry-go-round spin but in silent black-and-white and slow motion and instead of horses there were buddhas and I've lost the thread…
It was bacán.
Miguel is studying Psychology at the Universidad de La Serena. At least, I think that's what he said. Whenever I repeated the word in English he made an effort (in Spanish) to draw a distinction between what he studied and Psychology but… I didn't quite catch the difference. He played the a steady note on the didgeridoo while I played the bowl and we enjoyed a couple minutes of spinning in place.
He then introduced me to his friends: Eduardo - the skateboarder; Daniela - la sola chica; and finally, Lizard King. Lizard King owned the didgeridoo and the Tibetan Bowl. During the summer, Lizard King goes up to Valle de Elqui and plays his didgeridoo for the tourists and makes a pretty penny. But during the winter he hangs out in the park Saturday night with his friends and plays for anyone who cares to listen. I cared to listen. And even recorded a bit.
Listen:
Then, a man selling bright pink flowers showed up to listen to Lizard King play. He was astounded and his wide grin showed he was missing some teeth. Lizard King asked if he wanted to play and he spent a good 10 minutes blowing foul noises into the thing without much success. We laughed. He laughed. He started making barking noises through the didgeridoo at a dog across the park. We all laughed. Then Lizard King told the man to stand up so he could play the didgeridoo into his back. He played a steady, slowly fluctuating note while Miguel spun around him with Tibetan Bowl. Lizard King moved the instrument to the back of the pink flower man's head and his grin widened even further. Lizard King ran out of breath and lowered the didgeridoo. The man turned around and practically shouted, "BACAAAAAN!"
To be honest, I had spent most of that Saturday bummed and mopey about the prospect of disbanding our little Serena crew and returning to our respective "homes". We had had such a great week listening to each other's experiences thus far (the family situation, the school situation, the city situation), talking about the things we missed from home (space heaters, In-N-Out, REAL COFFEE) and drinking away any complaints we had til we were all dancing to whatever happened to be on the stereo at that point in the night.* It was therapeutic, relaxing and a helluva good time. It's hard to say goodbye to that level of comfort and familiarity.
But in that park with Miguel and Lizard King and the didgeridoo and the Pink Flower Man I remembered why I came to Chile. For Chile. For the people. For the music. For the culture. And as nice as it was to feel a bit of home for a week (removed, as it was - a piece of home from Santiago a month ago), I knew it was time to go back. I still had a lot of Chile to experience. And a lot of Spanish to learn. Por ejemplo: Como se dice "Lizard King" en Español?
*It was only me that was dancing and, if memory serves me well, it was Michael Jackson or Katy Perry.
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