"Azisi snesu lensu ban noiti
I feiku imagine nandu nice choice
A feka laisu yan va corda tu
Sun tandu one tu sua gona tei fois”
I never heard this Portuguese pop song till Alina Bielak sang exclusively for me at John Barry Bar a few days ago. Before I could recover from the spell cast by the twenty-something singing diva from Argentina, she smoothly slipped into regaling me with a Swahili number, ‘Malaika, me coo pe na Malaika, Malaika, me coo pe na Malaika’. Again, this song was only for my ears! Not a public performance.
It was an enchanting late Thursday evening as I sit in the well upholstered sofa with a bowl of giant-sized, saltish green olives and a tall glass of orange juice for company. Of course, Alina mesmerizing me with her soulful ballads in English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and Swahili from the platform hardly three meters away from where I am seated. Suddenly my eyes well up when I realize that Alina will pack up and leave Muscat in four weeks’ time for Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina on the expiry of her six months contract with Grand Hyatt. No doubt, another team will fill the vacuum. But Alina? No. She won’t be here.
“Nine months ago, we formed ‘Cool Blue’,” informs Amadeo Gallardo – Alina’s guitarist and base player husband. Though they have known each other for more than six years back in Argentina while playing for different bands, they got into wedlock when they met in northwest Spain less than a year ago. Originally, they worked under the banner of Blue Velvet but changed to Cool Blue recently. “Nothing special,” explains she while adjusting her bangle-sized ear rings. Uneven, but curly hair, black collarless jacket with a matching pair of black trousers and a white spiderweb shoulder cover for contrast. That completes her appearance. Hubby Gallardo sports flaming red shirt and a pair of black trousers.
As the evening wears off and connoisseurs begin to walk in, Alina’s nimble fingers dance around the black and white piano keyboard while Gallardo strums on the guitar strings. Listeners’ requests are promptly played and regular rounds of applause rent the air.
Forty-five minutes into her first break, she walks up to where I am seated to resume our interrupted conversation. “Music is my life. I don’t know what I would have become,” says she in broken and halting English. Alina began singing when she was around sweet sixteen. Six days a week she has been singing at John Barry Bar. On Fridays – their weekly off – the couple cycle down the streets of Muscat ‘just like that’. Gallardo, more proficient in English, plays tennis to pass time while the Argentinian crooner-cum-pianist soaks in the pool.
Close to midnight, the venue is packed to full capacity. At times, the decibel level of loud conversations overrides Alina-Gallardo’s efforts. It appears none seems to be paying attention to the mellifluous song and musical atmosphere. Actually, her performance is the background everyone uses to conduct their life and business. She does not mind, of course. I walk up to her and Gallardo and shake hands. Then, quietly utter, “buenos noches” and exit. I thrust a fiver into the hands of the cab driver as he drops me back home. “What happened to you? Why five?” demands my daughter. Just two would be more than sufficient, says she. Do I care?
I feiku imagine nandu nice choice
A feka laisu yan va corda tu
Sun tandu one tu sua gona tei fois”
I never heard this Portuguese pop song till Alina Bielak sang exclusively for me at John Barry Bar a few days ago. Before I could recover from the spell cast by the twenty-something singing diva from Argentina, she smoothly slipped into regaling me with a Swahili number, ‘Malaika, me coo pe na Malaika, Malaika, me coo pe na Malaika’. Again, this song was only for my ears! Not a public performance.
It was an enchanting late Thursday evening as I sit in the well upholstered sofa with a bowl of giant-sized, saltish green olives and a tall glass of orange juice for company. Of course, Alina mesmerizing me with her soulful ballads in English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and Swahili from the platform hardly three meters away from where I am seated. Suddenly my eyes well up when I realize that Alina will pack up and leave Muscat in four weeks’ time for Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina on the expiry of her six months contract with Grand Hyatt. No doubt, another team will fill the vacuum. But Alina? No. She won’t be here.
“Nine months ago, we formed ‘Cool Blue’,” informs Amadeo Gallardo – Alina’s guitarist and base player husband. Though they have known each other for more than six years back in Argentina while playing for different bands, they got into wedlock when they met in northwest Spain less than a year ago. Originally, they worked under the banner of Blue Velvet but changed to Cool Blue recently. “Nothing special,” explains she while adjusting her bangle-sized ear rings. Uneven, but curly hair, black collarless jacket with a matching pair of black trousers and a white spiderweb shoulder cover for contrast. That completes her appearance. Hubby Gallardo sports flaming red shirt and a pair of black trousers.
As the evening wears off and connoisseurs begin to walk in, Alina’s nimble fingers dance around the black and white piano keyboard while Gallardo strums on the guitar strings. Listeners’ requests are promptly played and regular rounds of applause rent the air.
Forty-five minutes into her first break, she walks up to where I am seated to resume our interrupted conversation. “Music is my life. I don’t know what I would have become,” says she in broken and halting English. Alina began singing when she was around sweet sixteen. Six days a week she has been singing at John Barry Bar. On Fridays – their weekly off – the couple cycle down the streets of Muscat ‘just like that’. Gallardo, more proficient in English, plays tennis to pass time while the Argentinian crooner-cum-pianist soaks in the pool.
Close to midnight, the venue is packed to full capacity. At times, the decibel level of loud conversations overrides Alina-Gallardo’s efforts. It appears none seems to be paying attention to the mellifluous song and musical atmosphere. Actually, her performance is the background everyone uses to conduct their life and business. She does not mind, of course. I walk up to her and Gallardo and shake hands. Then, quietly utter, “buenos noches” and exit. I thrust a fiver into the hands of the cab driver as he drops me back home. “What happened to you? Why five?” demands my daughter. Just two would be more than sufficient, says she. Do I care?
This piece appeared in OMAN TRIBUNE, 4 March 2009 edition
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