Battle of the Bands

By David Salazar

On August 13^th 2009, many musicians from different schools were summoned to play in our school’s Battle of the Bands. The rules were simple: each band had 15 minutes on stage, during which they could play as many songs as they could plus set up all the necessary equipment. If any band went over the time, their sound would get cut off and they would be disqualified from the contest (as was the case with many bands). The line-up for the judges was Paul Posterino (from our English Department) and two of the members from the alternative metal band, Akasha (who later closed off the event).

The first to conquer the stage were Voltage, who played their choice of punk rock. Afterwards played Avalon (heavy metal) who suffered from technical problems with the sound, which made got them a few minutes off the clock. They asked the audience if they wanted them to keep on playing anyways and after the crowd’s positive response they kept on playing, only to get their sound cut off and become banned from the contest.

Some other highlights from the event include: Oda Ska’s music which made the crowd dance playfully in the “slam”; Ilusión A Contraluz and their unique style of alternative rock music; the drummer from Los Cantafeos, Marco Zamora, who never had taken any drum lessons but did really well with his performance; Los Noindicaotros who consisted of a dozen members and a wide array of instruments including tambourines and glockenspiels; amongst others.

But from out of all these, only the top three ranked high enough to win the prize money: 10,000 colones for the third place (which means they got back the inscription money), 20,000 for the second place and 40,000 for the first place.

Ænamical ranked in third thanks to their skillful technique and complex solos, characteristic of progressive metal. Their influences include: Tool, Dream Theatre, Symphony X, WarCry, etc. There were many doubts amongst their members before going on stage because, unlike every other band, at the moment they had no vocalist in their line-up (consisting only of Emerson Castro & Raphael Huddleston on the guitars, Ernesto Garcia on the bass, Lucio Barquero on the keyboards and Jose Hernandez on the drums). Nevertheless, they proved they had what it takes and took home third prize.

On second place was Pensando en Blanco featuring Jose Pablo on the bass, Franco on the drums, Eduardo singing and playing guitar and Maria Rebeca on violin and on vocal duties. They weren’t very much to the liking of the crowd, as most of the viewers would rather sit away from the stage and talk to their friends; but the judges saw through this and realized all the talent the audience was letting go to waste, earning them a spot on the winner’s circle.

But the band that proved to be the best of all was Stoner who made both the audience and the judges acknowledge their victory. The band consists of Pietro Malavasi on lead guitar, Julian Godoy on the bass, Federico Madrigal on the drums and Mauro Ramirez singing and on rhythm guitar. They played two cover songs (Come Together and Knocking on Heaven’s Door) and two original songs of their own, titled “Orugas en el Culo” and “Just Dreaming”.

After the battle ended, Akasha went onstage to give an excellent performance as is expected of them. “Descriptar”, amongst other of their songs made the whole audience (and even the remaining judge who wasn’t onstage at that time) go crazy and start moshing and head-banging to the rhythm of the music. At the end of their show, the band stayed around for a while talking to some of the members of the competitors in the battle to give them some advice and congratulate them.

Life's Greatest Miracle

By Jade Lara

We often think of miracles as these great, supernatural events, where guardian angels save lives and people in wheelchairs can suddenly walk, but we rarely consider one of the biggest miracles which life has to offer, the miracle which is the beginning of life itself.

I recently witnessed this miracle when my brother was born a few weeks ago, and am thoroughly convinced that this is one of the most magnificent. It is utterly amazing to think that something so small can be transformed into a beautiful child in such a short time. It is incredible, really.

Seeing him for the first time a whole three hours after he was born was perhaps the most magnificent moment of my entire life. His fragility was like nothing I had ever known, and I recall just wondering, stunned, what he could possibly be thinking about. In fact, it's something so difficult to put in writing, because it is so different from any other feeling. What intrigued me most was the fact that he was the only person I had ever met who had never, ever done anything wrong. I found this so amazing because every person I have ever known, including myself, has done something wrong at some point and to think that we were perfect at one point in our lives, even if we don't remember, almost seems impossible.

Having a new sibling when you are so much older is so different from when you were younger, and I must admit that it was for me. When my first brother was born almost thirteen years ago, I was generally quite awful and overcome with passionate jealousy. Yet this seems to happen so often and it may be because we are so young and believe our parents are replacing us forever! But when you are older, and can appreciate it fully, you really do comprehend the magnitude of this ultimate miracle.

Therefore, I would like to invite you to observe that there are miracles all around us every day, yet we sometimes forget about them until we look at them closely or experience them for ourselves. I know that it has definitely opened my eyes!

Moon

By Tatiana Ng

I’m one of those people who are often called insane. That’s what I’ve been told for as far as I can remember. I’ve grown so used to that word that I’ve made myself believe it’s one of the most beautiful words. That’s what I’ve done to convince myself that there’s nothing wrong with me being insane; a pathetic attempt to ease the hurt. Thing is, it isn’t my fault that I can perceive things others can’t, or see things differently than ‘normal’ people. Hell, it’s not as if I asked to be born the way I am.

It all started that one day. One thing I know for sure; I love to contemplate the moon. I even talk with her at times. I know she listens to me, eager to hear what I have to say. It can be anything; I swear she’s like a kid listening to her favorite bedtime story. I also know the moon is a woman. I can tell this by the way she listens to me. Most women are all ears whereas most men never listen to what you’ve got to say. Their minds only have space for their carnal desires. I know this firsthand- I lived around men for most of my life. I can also tell by the way she moves. The gracious way in which she sways in the sky as the small and insignificant stars stare at her amazing beauty.

Like every other night I watched her. I was telling her about my day. As I told her my story I noticed she looked different from all of the other nights. I would never forget the way she looked. Her glow was so beautiful that night. It was bright, but the usual soft, magical glow wasn’t there. Instead it was a reddish color I’d never seen before. I blinked. It wasn’t only the glow that was different; it was slowly turning from white to pink, from pink to a bright crimson. I blinked again. Blood red.

I couldn’t move. I was afraid to blink. Afraid that if I moved an inch, or blinked even once she would change. All I could do was stare and admire the phenomenon in front of me. I don’t know for how long I stayed like this, but my stance was abruptly interrupted by a sound. My eyes flickered rapidly back and fourth, from the door to the window. Nothing. All I could hear was my breathing and the unsteady rhythm of my heart.

Footsteps.

Suddenly my conscience was screaming at me get out. It was so loud I’m amazed by how I didn’t quickly surrender and comply. But I was too stubborn and foolish to obey. I was born like that and I would never change. I smiled bitterly as the thought brought back old memories.

I could still hear footsteps. They sounded louder and louder with each passing second, the only indication that someone or something was getting closer. My conscience was hysterically telling me to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. It was as if my body had been split into two, both sections individual from one another.

Somehow, a part of me wished to go out the door and run to the direction of the footsteps, while the other wanted to run the opposite direction. As a normal person you would’ve thought about the last option, but being me I followed my natural instincts which in my case was nothing but unusual. Different. Or stupid. That was me. Yes, you could call it stupidity, but for me it was curiosity. If not, it was the attraction towards danger; the supernatural.

I forced my legs and moved towards the door. I hesitated for a second and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Before I opened my eyes I felt a rush of cold wind pass through my body making the hairs at the back of my neck erect. Suddenly, I felt as if cold, long fingers run from my shoulder across my back and I jerked away. I looked around but I was alone. There was no one else but myself, and all I could hear was the constant footsteps coming closer and closer.

Frantically I ran to were the footsteps were coming from as the instinct of self-preservation was finally kicking in. Ignoring it, I kept thrusting forward, yet again forcing my legs to move. I kept running and running but wasn’t able to find the source of the footsteps. Even though it sounded as if they were getting closer, at the same time they sounded as if they were everywhere.

The Escape

By Gian Piero Nali

I was a slave; my body, my time and breath belonged to the owner of the plantation I was in. During weeks, months, and years I worked on the fields leaving my sweat and blood. Since a very long time I hadn’t experienced freedom and my last hopes had disappeared.

One especially sunny day, I acquired a new hope, I heard other slaves talking about the possibility of escaping from the plantation. This could mean danger or even death but I was willing to pay any price for becoming a free man allowing me to have a better and happier life.
So I went closer and talked to them. They told me that they were planning to flee at the moment when there was less surveillance around the plantation: at night. At this time only a few guards were needed, given that slaves were very tired of working and had to sleep as much as they could during the few hours available to do so. A moment after, a very bad feeling got into my mind… the brands burned in our skins. These were impossible for me or for anyone to remove without unbearable pain or leaving huge scars. But this wasn’t the only thing I had to worry about. If we escaped, we would have to avoid all the other people outside the plantation, like the authorities from the area, which could capture us and take us back to the plantation.

I had already been ascended to a head person and if I was captured, I would have wasted the effort and energy I had put on my owner’s farm and on. I finally resolved myself to go, to escape. The preparation was to gather what we required and to organize the group. When everything was ready, we had to wait until night-time. It was dark and warm but there was some wind. We came together in the hut I slept in. During the day, the ones involved tried to eat as little as possible and brought their gourds to collect water from the river which wasn’t far from the limits. Afterwards, we began our journey. The escape route was roughly drawn with a stick on the soil. Even two children came with us.
It was a dodgy walk; outside the perimeter the woods stood almost everywhere with some rather thick bushes added to the snakes that killed dozens of workers every year.

Once we had crawled under the barbed wires of the spot, we started to walk towards the river carrying most of what we needed to survive. As we paced away, the sound of water getting louder and closer could be heard. Our goal was to get to a shelter that we could find such as a cave. Or I could help to make one with the knowledge that my mother and father had taught me in my old tribe. This I hadn’t forgot because I loved my parents and the village; and now I was in the middle of the forest, trying to find the way to get a new type of life. If I died, I wanted at least to die after getting freedom and a good job.
Now at the side of the river, we filled every gourd with fresh water and crossed the shallow water with caution for not capturing the attention of any animal, like a crocodile or something similar. On the other side, we kept walking without rest for three hours, and then stayed in a kind of abandoned hut. The only items we had as a light source were some fire torches. We slept in it for about an hour and resumed walk rapidly. If we didn’t go away fast, slaves that were still at the plantation could send people to search for us and get us back to work, where we were likely to get beaten as a punishment.

When we could walk no more, we had finally got to a big, isolated house near the coast. We knocked on the door waiting for a friendly answer. We were received with a smile by a woman who we saw accompanied by a pair of black men similar to us. Our group got filled with hope. The ex-slaves at the house were some kind of translators for us. They had learnt how to speak the local language and told us that they had been given freedom many years ago by a plantation owner who had bought them in an auction with the purpose of reselling them at a higher price, but grew fond of them quickly, deciding to keep both. That person was the man that owned the house we found. Fortunately we were a small amount of people so we could perfectly fit inside the house. The owners of the house gave us some delicious food that we hadn’t tasted for long years. They knew exactly the risk they ran by having fugitive, branded slaves but didn’t worry about it. They knew how to keep us safe.

There were two spare rooms. The floor was covered with a carpet which we used as a bed. Small in number (7), we had more space than at the tiny cabin designated for us at the plantation, a softer place to sleep and a warm room.

The next morning, I heard about a miracle! The translators made us know that the family was going in a voyage to Canada in a week, where there was no slavery. I was so happy I couldn’t believe it. It was a comfortable and a little bit scary week. The family got the news on our escape but didn’t tell anyone about it.

The moment of the trip had come. We got into a ship and enjoyed the long journey. Amazingly the people in it didn’t suspect at all, probably because the boat had only stopped to load extra and some more people. The vessel had a small bed for each of us and enough food, contrasting hugely with the terrible conditions lots of us had to bear before, horribly packed in a compartment inside a vast a wooden slave trade ship. Now I could enjoy the fresh wind and the sea. The fish tasted fantastically taking pleasure from the journey “home.”

As soon as we got to close our destination we found that the place was freezing. Colder than any place I had been in my life ever before. It would be the country I would stay for the rest of my life, working for the family of the people that took us to this place until each acquired a job. I achieved something better than my goal and am still happy with the individuals who helped me to get here. I miss my family and friends at the fields and at the village in Africa, but hopefully I will manage to move on and eventually die in peace.

France

By David Salazar (s5)

A few years ago I went on a trip through Europe with my cousins, visiting England, France and Italy. While England and Italy were quite enjoyable, unfortunately I can’t say the same about France.

We got there on an underground train from England which would carry us underneath the English Channel. It got stuck halfway there, for 30 minutes, and we were left to contemplate darkness out the window. To this day, I’m still surprised the trip had gone wrong even before we had arrived at our destination.

Finally we got out of the train with our bags on our hands, stepping on French ground and breathing French air. I’ve got to admit, many people have said this and it sounds too stereotypical but it’s true: France smells bad. There’s no other way to describe it other than “similar to dusty, molding cheese”. It’s just some old stench that’s been stuck there as long as the French Revolution it would seem. In addition to the smell, the climate was also being harsh on us. It was VERY cold, even colder than England which seems unreal as we were actually moving closer to the Ecuator.

We got to our hotel, and we enter not expecting much; but we should’ve expected less. The lady at the front desk didn’t speak a word of English, just French and some more French (and none of us spoke a word of French besides baguette and omelette). Somehow we managed to get our message across and she finally gave us the key to our room. She pointed upwards at the third floor, and obviously it would seem like a good idea to ride the elevator up there: the damn thing was broken.

We carried our bags up the spiral staircase, and onto the eerie corridor whose architect had clearly been a six-year old with crayons. As you walked further along, you started to realize the walls closing into you: the halls got narrower as you traveled through them.

The room wasn’t that big, but then again the hotel had been lousy so far so how could it start getting any better? It was a single room with two beds, and one bathroom. We were one bed short so my cousins had to share a bed, but that wasn’t the biggest of our problems. What really got on my nerves was the fact that the bathroom didn’t have a shower. Apparently French people don’t feel like taking baths (which could probably explain that stinking reek).

“Everything’s going to be better tomorrow” we all thought. Yeah, we’re going to visit some important French landmarks and have some fun, but to start our day we had to get breakfast first. Some hotels offer breakfast to their guests, and often nothing very complicated: a bowl of cereal or some sausage and eggs if you were lucky. Where we stayed served a croissant. Nothing else: not even butter to put on it or a glass of orange juice: just a plain piece of flaky bread.

So we leave breakfast hungry and head out into the world. We’re going to start off by visiting the Eiffel Tower, that’s got to be good. Just one problem: it was packed with tourists (just like ourselves). As with all large places with lots of people, it was easy to get lost, and that’s exactly what I did. I looked for my cousins for hours while they looked for me, which ended up meaning we were going around in circles avoiding each other.

By then it was lunch-time, and France is famous for its food so there must be some nice restaurant where we can grab a quick bite. I had just forgotten a tiny detail: France was famous for its expensive food, and with each restaurant being even more costly than the last we realized we were going nowhere. We ended up eating the most expensive hamburgers at McDonald’s we’d ever eaten.

The remaining few days we visited Disneyland Paris (which is nowhere as fun as the one in Florida) and the Louvre Museum (with its smaller-than-I-imagined main attraction, the Mona Lisa). To sum up what I’m trying to say, France was a cold, stinky, expensive, boring country. Frankly, I wouldn’t recommend anyone go there. Even so, I’ve heard its nicer in the summer (although I highly doubt that).