Hello, everybody! Greetings from Caxias do Sul, Brazil. I have been having a terrific time here, alternating the isolation of my hotel room (very convenient for focused practising) with going-outs to with the orchestra personel, every noon and evening. I forgot to mention that I came here to play Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto.

However, this post is motivated by a totally unrelated subject. I happened to stumble, today, upon a remark by American philosopher John Searle about Derrida's deconstructionism. Speaking of Derrida's approach, he objected to: "the low level of philosophical argumentation, the deliberate obscurantism of the prose, the wildly exaggerated claims, and the constant striving to give the appearance of profundity by making claims that seem paradoxical, but under analysis often turn out to be silly or trivial." (An Exchange on Deconstructionism, 1984)

I quote this thought here because it seems to describe not only the self-serving pseudo-sofistacated pretentiousness that permeates every French writing on philosophy or art I have ever encountered, but also because it seems to be a verbatim description of pretty much every French film I have watched, taken co-productions appart!

Now, don't get me wrong - this is not a sample of the new American literary genre "beat the French". Similar observations can be posted about certain genres and subgenres of Spanish, German or Russian art or academic writing (and probably I should do so), the point is that Searle's observation (regardless of how fairly it applies to Derrida's work) goes to the heart of everything that is vain and superficial in thinking. A real artist, as well as a true thinker, should never be dazzled by the fireworks of word games, no matter how tempting. At the core and at the end of every question, quest or search, there is the human being, and we are privy to humanity not through reflection and analysis, but through direct experience. Whenever we force the translation of this direct experience into the analytical terms of spoken, or written, language, we end up losing in the trade.

Queridos amigos, colegas, alumnos: era mi intención escribir estas líneas epilogares antes, mientras aun estaba en Chicago, pero un agudo cuadro inflamatorio me tuvo en un estado oscilando entre el estupor medicamentado, y el puro dolor físico. Recién hoy me siento en condiciones de pensar y escribir con la mínima libertad y concentración requeridas.

Ya de vuelta en casa puedo pensar en estos días en los Balcanes con ciertas perspectiva, y me es grato decir que la alegría y el entusiasmo que me acompañaron las casi tres semanas del tour siguen intactas.

El reencuentro con Serbia, al cabo de 16 años, fue algo fuerte y agradable. Es increíble hasta que punto Belgrado y sus habitantes se parecen a Buenos Aires y los porteños. Los conciertos fueron interesantes y pude conectarme o reconectarme con gente interesante. En este momento estamos en conversaciones con respecto a unos posibles conciertos al comienzo de la temporada 2010-2011 en Belgrado y Novi Sad. ¡Ojalá sea un presagio de visitas más regulares!

Sarajevo, sin duda, fue el gran descubrimiento de este viaje. Ya dediqué un artículo a mis impresiones, así que no voy a reiterarme. Me gustaría apenas mencionar que, en lo profesional, veo en Sarajevo un enorme potencial... y una enorme carencia de estímulo para los jóvenes músicos. El país y la ciudad, pese a sus maravillas, están lejos de una recuperción plena, y los jóvenes músicos con los que traté y trabajé no ven un futuro para sí mismos en su patria, en su mayor parte. No ayudan tampoco un liderazgo y administración carentes de la suficiente energía y visión para crear esas oportunidades y una red de contactos que posicionen Sarajevo y sus instituciones musicales en un contexto internacional. Asimismo, me siento obligado a mencionar que los resentimientos raciales y religiosos que dieron pie la reciente trágica guerra civil no parecen haber desaparecido, sino apenas haber adoptado formas latentes. Me pregunto si una nueva generación de Bosnio-Hercegovinos (decir "bosnio" solo equivale tanto como a decir "musulmán") serán capaces de superar ese nivel de irracionalidad. Lo dudo, pero no pierdo la esperanza.

El de Rumania fue un viaje accidentado y tremendamente divertido, amén de muy gratificante en lo musical. De las varias "ediciones" de Tango Rendezvous que llevo hechas, ésta fue tal vez la más galvanizante, la que más energía emocional movió. Hay en pie invitaciones varias para retornar, que esperemos se efectivicen pronto!

Esta gira, si no lo había mencionado, tuvo una inusual coda en forma de un concierto en el Festival South en Mississippi, que me permitió retornar brevemente a Hattiesburg, la primera ciudad de los EEUU en que viví. Fue muy agradable reencontrarme con el Dr. Dean y un número de ex-compañeros de universidad. De este concierto surge la iniciativa de crear un Seminario de Tango para Músicos en el festival a partir de 2011, un proyecto en el que empezaremos a trabajar apenas comience el año lectivo.

A todos los que han venido siguiendo el Blog, ¡gracias! No duden en comentar, escribir, preguntar

Greetings from Belgrade! The Romanian part of the tour is over, and with it, the Balkan - Transylvanian tour. I returned to Belgrade just to take my plane to Chicago, before the performance in the FestSouth, in Mississippi. The concerts in Cluj and Targu Mures were a real success, in that there was a consistent improvement in the ensenmble's quality, and in our ability to convey the stregth, the electrifying power of Piazzolla's music and tango in general.


Leaving Romania was a very strong, touching experience, since in the short time we were working together, we developed strong ties between the members of the ensemble, and with the overall concept of the project. In one word, nobody wanted to part ways, just when the best time had begun! But so is life sometimes, and, on the positive side, I can say with confidence that all the actors involved in the project (organizers, musicians, audiences) are up for another round... which we will make happen, of course!


At this moment, I will have to leave you. I hope to have sometime tomorrow in Chicago to put in written some kind of epilogue or wrapping-up thoughts about this whole tour. Until then!


Update: nearing the end of my last day in Serbia, we met with talented singer and composer Zelko Joksimovic http://www.zeljkojoksimovic.com/ in his apartment in Belgrade. We spent two lovely hours talking about music and sorting YouTube videos of his performances and a couple of mine. Sonja, and Zelko's partner in life Jovana, accompanied us. I felt very happy to meet such a talented and hard-working artist, and hope to meet him again when he comes on tour this November to the US.

Greetings from Bistrița! (pronounce: BEES - tree - tsah). I doubt you know this city, unless you are either Romanian, somehow connected by work, family or interests to Romania, or a hard-core fan of Bram Stoker's Dracula (I happen to be all the three of them!), in which case you would know that the city is mentioned as the placement of the hotel "Coroana de Aur" (Golden Crown), a hotel that was effectively built to make nature match fiction many years after the novel's publication (1897) - something that the hotel management, conveniently, omitted to mention in their webpage. Be as it may, I must confess that in a literary corner of my heart I was hoping that the organizers (Societatea de Concerte) would put me exactly in that hotel. Of course, that didn't happen, but I plan on visiting the place tomorrow after the concert!

The Romanian edition of my Tango Rendezvous International format features a group of talented, enthusiatic musicians. I hope I will have the time to write in more detail about each of them and my interactions and conversations with them. Enough for now to mention that, although being far from a specialist in tango dance, I was kindly coerced into giving two introductory "tango lessons" to both our pianist (Raluca Săbau, from Cluj) and the second violin of the ensemble (Károly Lokodi, Hungarian-Romanian from the same city), to the delight -or disconcert!- of the rest of our hotel's guests, since these happened in the dinning room. I am enjoying also thoughtful conversations on Hungarian, Romanian, Gypsy and Balkan music with double bass player Márton Kostyák, with whom I feel connected through our double music background (tango/classic and Hungarian folk/classic, respectively). I knew Dana Tolan, our first violin, from the US, from the Southern Illinois Music Festival (in which, in fact, we participated in a mini tango project) and had the pleasure to met here French violoncelist François Chanon, a man with an exquisite combination of mild manners, music talent, lively curiosity and sharp intelligence, as well as Hungarian-Romanian violist Mólnar József.

After my more-than-accidented arrival in Bistrița, in fact, starting that very morning, we have been working intensively on our program. I am confident that we will be ready to offer a solid rendering of Piazzolla's music, and feel that my colleagues are really getting to the spirit of it. My plan is to wrap up the program in the morning (touch-up session and a run), and then devote the afternoon to some sight-seing (Coroana de Aur, there I go!), some very needed practice, and relaxing before my Romanian debut.

Hi! I just wanted to tell you that the concert in Nis was great. Our consul actually drove us there, and we met Igor Aleksic, talented organizer and (judging by what I am told) excellent musician. More about everything later. I need just to go pack, since I am taking off for Romania in a couple of hours.

Update: well, the couple of hours turned out much more accidented than I foresaw. Our driver from Romania wasn't able to cross the border due to the strike of various unions, including the police. Strangely enough, his drivers licence was also retained by the police for a parking infraction. I ended up taking a cab to the border cross (100 km from Belgrade) - I need to say, our Serbian driver Sinisa proved much more resourceful. At the border I was threated with a fine and many hours of waiting for not having registered with the Belgrade police upon arrival (a requirement I was never informed about), and only the good will of the border patrol officer and the intervention of Sonja spared me that additional difficulty. The change of cars happened under the strongest rain I had seen in the last 15 years at least, at the parking near the border (in the Romanian side, of course). The issue with the DL prevented my driver from taking me all the way to Bistrita, so to my ecstatic enjoyment I learnt that I had to wait 7 more hours for a train, in which I was about to spend the night, to arrive near Bistrita at 6am, just in time to start a whole day of rehearsals. Very encouraging.

On the possitive side, I must say that I enjoyed the almost compulsory, dionisiac Romanian-style hospitality of Mihai Olteanu Sr., a renowned visutal artist from Timisoara. It took me 3 hours to eat enough of his generous orders to stop eating without offending my guests. I guess I have ingested enough calories and fat for a whole week in Alaska.

Timisoara seems to be not only a charming city, but also a very artistic, intelectual one, judging by the number of bookstores and their selections, far from any whim of provinciality. I plan on uploading the few photos I took before my camera's battery died out (uff) soon... I mean, as soon as I can crash in a place with a bed, a bathroom and Internet connection. At this moment, I am in an Internet-cafe thanks to the kindness of Mihai Olteanu Jr. who accompanied me here.

So, assuming that the torrential showers and the strike do not affect the train schedule (a thing that, as much as I want to reach my destination, I am seriously skeptic about), I should be taking off in 2 and a half hours to Bistrita, to meat with Francois, from France, and the Romanian musicians that will recreate Tango Rendezvous for these concerts. Wish me luck!

En estos días que llevo aquí, deliberadamente me abstuve de comentar mis impresiones sobre Sarajevo. La razón es muy simple: son muchas, son complejas, son fuertes. Existen lugares tan cargados de connotaciones simbólicas, tejidas a lo largo de los siglos, cuando no milenios, que visitarlos no deja de afectarnos a niveles profundos, niveles que no siempre se prestan con facilidad a la expresión verbal, oral o escrita, y un comentario que ignorara ese impacto sería un comentario superficial, y como tal, innecesario y ajeno.

En fin, no me sorprende enterarme que Sarajevo, entre sus varios apodos, lleva el de "la Jerusalem de Europa". Mis impresiones en mucho coinciden con las que oí de quienes visitaron Jerusalem. Es, en mi caso, una mezcla de reverencia por un pasado que me habla en presente a través de cosas grandes (la arquitectura, el paisaje) y pequeñas - la disposición de las mesas en los cafés, la obvias huellas del turco en la onomástica, el vestuario y el vocabulario, etc., de una alegría sabrosamente balcánica, meridional, que contagia su hermosa gente, y una piedad sin fin por una comunidad que fue el yunque en que golpeara el martillo del sinsentido fraticida - culto nihilista del que, increiblemente, muchos son aun adeptos.

También me retuvo el hecho, para mí penoso y empobrecedor, de que nuestro lenguaje y costumbres literarias propenden a una imaginería eminentemente visual. Y aunque sin duda el viejo Sarajevo es una ciudad visualmente hermosa, y espero, aquí entre nos, que las fotos nocturnas que saqué hayan salido bien, lo más deliciosamente encantador que sentí tienen más que ver con sutiles sombras o matices, y no siempre visuales. Subir a la plataforma que sobrevive a la antigua Fortaleza, claro está, me dio una impresionante vista de la ciudad... ¿pero cómo describir la ráfaga perfumada de azahar que me envolvió en el momento mismo que me sentaba a mirarla? ¿cómo, exactamente, describir la luz verdosa y vespertina que llegaba a mi mesa a través del arbol junto al cual cené ayer, plantado en el medio mismo de un patio interior que funciona como restaurant (cuyas sillas son cómodos sillones de mimbre con almohadones) y tienda de pashminas? Incurrir en el exotismo, o peor aun, el exoticismo, es fácil y es estúpido. La verdad es que todos esos fenómenos - naturales, sociales, humanos, arquitectónicos - coexisten en Sarajevo con la cualidad de lo auténticamente presente, de lo que es auténtico aquí y ahora. Y ésa es una cualidad muy difícil de comunicar, cuando la profusión de epítetos extiende, en vez de acortar, la distancia entre el lector y el hecho.

En fin, solo puedo decir que deseo para Sarajevo y sus habitantes el mejor, mas bellamente sarajevano de los futuros, y que espero, y deseo, tener un rol, siquiera menor, en ese porvenir. De alguna manera, Sarajevo se instaló en mi corazón, y parece que para quedarse.

Yesterday (V/27) I gave a masterclass that extended well into the afternoon. It was really enjoyable, and all of the students displayed a high level of talent and eagerness to learn. Here is the "serious" picture ("nerdy", as one of them put it):

from left to right, Amina, Neda, this humble servant, Najda, Nebojsa and Belma.

After the "nerdy" picture, we tried to improve it and take a more informal one. Apparently, the photographer took the same aproach to focusing and light, so the picture is funny, relaxed... dark and blurred:

Finally, we took advantage of the opportunity to explore new violin techniques, in the spirit of what could be called "the new Argentinean-Bosnian school of violin playing." Here are the results - the reader be the judge ;-)