The Face of a Bboy

A glass of water never tasted so good. A shower never felt so cleansing. After hours of training, our daily itineraries are enriched with meaning. What is it that makes bboys and bgirls train so hard? What perpetuates such great persistence to bounce on the same bruised shoulder, to listen to the same old beat, and to “get up and try again”? The answer is easy, but not quite so obvious to the foreign eye.

The answer lies in the eyes of the dancer. The subtle facial expressions, and occasional bite on the lip emit real emotion. A bboy feels every beat and every rhythm that trickles under their skin. Listening is never a solitary act. Your heart beats faster and your body needs to move. Self expression, interpretation and creativity are nourished by the music. For a bboy, there is no official structure, there are no rules, and boundaries are meant to be broken. Character and personality is often only identified through spoken language. A bboy vessels their identity through the art of their movement.

Every speech is enriched with vocabulary. Dance moves, ranging from the twitch of an eye-brow to the flying airflare, populate a bboy’s dictionary. The more combinations you create, the more tools you have to express yourself with the music. If I had a math formula for this magic, it would be on the cover of every textbook. The limitations are endless, and the fun even more gratifying.

The face of a bboy follows the same story. It expresses the strain of determination, the laughs shared through new friendships, and the joys of freedom through music. When the battle is on, a game face takes a whole new meaning. Unify your movements to the music, to your opponents, and to the audience, and you will accomplish your goals. Confidence, fluid motion, and flawless transitions feed every soul in the room.

Be real and follow your heart.

Judges, please do us the honour!

Footage from:

Big Trouble in Little Vancouver (January 2011)

The Face of a Bboy

The Quilotoa Loop

Our spontaneous decision to go to Quilotoa was no longer an idea, but our new home for the night. Our scenic route to Quilotoa ventured into the Andes through abandoned looking villages, sloped mountainside farmlands, and cloud infused roads. The ride was rather windy given that we were sitting in the back of an open truck. Over the span of our 3 hour drive, the air turned briskly cold, and each breath was somewhat less satisfying than the one preceding. At 4200m above sea level, the clouds drifted through an alley of huts located on the plateau of Quilotoa. The only 3 homes, doubling also as hostels and meal providers, catered us with a warm meal and some tea. With the purchase of Kenn’s fabulous new wool poncho, and some day old bread with jam, we were ready to venture over the edge.

A narrow passage wedged through the volcano crater rim brought us to the lookout. The view was… white. Several minutes into our decent, along with a potion of luck casted from my magic wand (a piece of wild grass served as a great substitute), the clouds lifted and blue sky joined the social gathering. The view was spectacular. The lake grew larger than our expectations could imagine. The shades of blue and green danced across the water for a vast dynamic range our eyes could feast on.

Kenn and I hiked three quarters down the trail and veered right to our elected platform looking suitable for camp. Our detour consisted of exposed ridges, rock waterfalls, and narrow gullies. We set up the tent and escaped the cold by crawling into our down sleeping bags. The skies were promising and we decided to sleep under our mesh canopy for the night. Once we turned off our headlamps, it’s as if someone turned on the night light. The sky was overwhelmed with stars that glittered both above and below us in its reflections over the water. We were awakened by a chilly breeze. The volcano ridges leaked a bluish tint of light revealing the new day ahead of us.

The ascent was breath taking, literally. We hiked half way around the volcano rim. Several unmarked trail junctions crossed our path. We altered our route at the eucalyptus wooded junction. We were not sure what a eucalyptus tree looked like, but our sixth senses agreed.

Setting Precedence in Travel

In the Pink Palace, our love for surfing, ocean, and adventure inspired a small movie night. Up in the north-west quarters of the house, a large 36” LCD was screening The Drifter on my dresser top shelf. The rays of light danced against the walls as we soaked in the sun, cinematography, music and waves Rob Machado surfed. The movie was over, and suddenly life felt so dry without the touch of spontaneity. Our thirst for travel surfaced and within 15 minutes, a roommate pact was made promising warm water, waves, and South America…

Nate tangled in his exams, Kenn and I faithful to our movie screening, we fly to Quito, Ecuador unannounced, untrained, and eager to explore. After three days upon our arrival, two fresh roommates venture into the city of Latacunga at midnight with a general direction in mind. Greeted by a friendly prostitute, the walk was serene, and lights flickered their yellow cast over the abundant shadows lurking the streets. The following morning we went to a fruit market in search of the best mango, pineapple and papaya smoothies. We swaggered around the isles and filled our bags with the most succulent fruits filled with nature’s best sugar. Our dining room awaited us at the center of a busy car roundabout. The statue behind us stood strong, and we devoured from the peel to our fingers, with a slight overcast of smog for cinematographic excellence.  No longer hungry, we awaited for our next conquest pondering how we remove the mango juicy pulp from our fingers. During our return to an amiable Ecuadorian merchant, a crippled looking pick up truck shouts a seemingly familiar city name to our gringo direction. “Quilotoa! Quilotoa!!”. We kindly said no thank you and continued upon our way. Curiously taking a two second glance of our Lonely Planet map, with no place to go, we had nothing to loose. Kenn and I looked at each other, smiled, and started running after our pick up truck before the light turns green for GO!

Ecuador, then and there, opened its arms and welcomed us for our joint venture. The precedence was established.  

No rules, no pain, no game!