Where I am

We are close to the end of 2011. As it is common at this time of the year, I’ve got a long list of resolutions dancing in my head with all the glasses of wine I have drunk since I came to Spain, the land where still almost everything is allowed. Resolutions mixed with emotions, uncertainties and the duties I have seemed to forget how to handle, something that also seems to be motivated by the substance that the Spanish air is made of. Leaving comparisons aside, in this country all tastes to freedom, while where I am going soon, the rules are interiorized in ways I am not quite sure that I am ready or able to learn. I always liked a sense of order surrounding me, but apparently, I can’t avoid resurrecting the anarchic that all the members of this land carry inside, like a dialectical ego with the power to create and destroy us to its own caprice. When that happens, the inner voice, little voice, empowers itself, rebelling and protesting against the imposition of the norm and the deviation from the island of ideals and personal values that belong nowhere in particular but have a very solid soul. It’s curious, but I am losing faith in all I used to believe in before. I am not willing to embrace the uncertain future and I terribly fear the sense of lost. I am scared to death of missing that rebel part of me in this metamorphosis that I can’t control or stop; I am scared to never see again that passionate creature who was so daring to give without asking anything in return. Now, when I look myself in the mirror, I wonder when the beginning of all this started, and where I lost track and my energy to keep on being as I always was. However, despite being tired, I am still brave. I am still fighting for that that I want to become. I can say I followed my heart and I still dream of being a better person for myself and the others; I haven’t stopped fighting to be with who I want to be even though that never came easily. Last night, I was begging Destiny to send me some sings, to let me know all this effort was worthy, that not all love is in vain and that not all the time I spent thinking on different ways to get closer to him, to make him happy, to find out his dreams and passions, was lost. He told me that deep inside I know what really matters and how far is worth to go for that that I want. He told me is good to try, to live and love, but also to recognise when it’s time to let go and let loose those parts and weights that keep us down. When is time to let go? Maybe it is now, when I still love you. But what for if you don’t care? What for my heart crossed an ocean? It still amazes me how little it takes to fall for those who we choose. It takes so little to get used to that bloody happiness of sharing few words, few songs, few visions of yourself dancing in the moon to a rhythm not yet written, specially composed for two souls that long for each other. After the illusions, the starry nights and waiting, it takes a whole heart to say goodbye. A heart you’ll never fully recover again. That’s where I am now. I am learning to fly again with a broken hope and many more waiting to be fulfilled. I know I’ll succeed. I know I will master again all the feelings that now are crumbling inside me like waterfalls, melting me in tears, re-making my ashes, constructing my persona that can’t help to wish you were here. Our body aches in the distance, but it’s also truth I am no longer dying for your touch as I used to. You allowed the fire to perish in the game that you had won and gained you. I grow tired of so much missing and lonely nights, of guessing and waiting. My patience perished in your self-esteem and confidence of having me when you never dare to come and get me. That was my fault, but I learnt the lesson: Don’t give the chance and take what is mine according to my desires. So, mechanically and slowly, I will stop trying to amuse you. Maybe you didn’t even care when I did and you won’t even miss my presence when I am gone. You will never know how much I tried to be there, in a small part of your life where I so bad I wanted to enter with your permission. It wasn’t granted, so it’s time to leave. I won’t bother myself or you anymore. I am proud of daring though. I am a fool to cry because all I did, I did it with a pure vision, a naïve intention to be more complete and give you all I got in return. After all this, I can say that not everything is lost. I am like that beach where the weaves always return. You know the song…you know it now. It’s funny you always thought there was something else, some obscure manipulation. But all those words… that’s all I ever was. No further mystery. If you knew me better, you’d know that when I say “I love you” that’s all I mean and all I am. Regardless the feeling that still lingers here, hidden so good inside me that I can’t shade light to find it and take it out, it’s time to stop because, never mind how much I wanted it, you never were where I was waiting for. Now I don’t know where I am. But I will find out soon.

Sed osados, atreveros a soñar. FELIZ NAVIDAD

Como siempre por estas fechas, empecé Diciembre del 2011 con la ilusión de escribir una carta a los Reyes Magos. Como la crisis parece que no va a menos imagino que no está la cosa para mucho despilfarro. Además, por obra y gracia de la famosilla globalización, supongo que todo lo que aun tiene el lujo de viajar sin fronteras, se contagia de un sitio a otro del planeta en un abrir y cerrar de ojos, por lo que no creo que el reino de sus Majestades se haya librado de la ola de pesimismo ni de la denegación de crédito que actualmente sacude a los mortales. Ante semejante panorama me he dicho que, al fin y al cabo, solo es Navidad una vez al año, con lo cual me he permitido el lujo de ser optimista e idealista y de no escatimar a la hora de pedir. No me he querido quedar corta porque la magia de estas fechas no solo está para que las compañías de turrones y de cava catalana hagan negocios con sus anuncios entrañables de guiones más que predecibles, ni para que la Lotería del Estado nos hagan cada vez mas ludópatas vendiéndonos que un ángel bondadoso de nombre “Suerte” y apellidos “a 20 Euros el Decimo” nos va a sacar del apuro con el banco. No. La magia está ahí porque es un reto a nuestra imaginación, y porque algún día se nos tenía que permitir soñar a lo loco, derrochando a diestro y siniestro en lo de ilusionarnos con ese mundo que queremos. Así que la carta quedo más o menos así. Queridos Reyes Magos: La cosa no pinta del todo bien por aquí. Mejor no os lo cuento todo porque sé que estáis ocupados y no quiero agobiaros ni chafaros el viaje. Este año no pido ni moto, ni piso, ni liquidación de hipoteca, ni viaje al Caribe. Quizás os ponga en un apurillo al pediros algo que está en peligro de extinción, pero he aprendido a no ser egoísta y me gustaría compartirlo con conocidos y extraños, con poderosos y humildes, con ricos y pobres. No lo tenéis que inventar. Ya existe, aunque recientemente brille por su ausencia en los diálogos de cafetería y en los discursos políticos. Simplemente pido que nos contagiéis a todos de sentido común para reflexionar y avanzar y para no repetir los errores que tiñeron de calamidad y barbarie el siglo pasado. Pido sentido común cargado de voluntad para hacer frente a la adversidad y la diferencia. Y, por qué no, un poco de carbón para castigar a los que se portaron mal, aunque para ello tengáis que atosigar a los pajes con extra de sacos. Subidles el sueldo vosotros que podréis permitíroslo. Nada más. Ni menos. Si le quedan fuerzas, espero que sus gracias lean atentamente vuestras cartas y, en caso de que hayáis sido buenos, sean esplendidos. Desde estas líneas os invito a que seáis osados y os atreváis a soñar. Os deseo a todos unas muy Felices Fiestas y un Prospero año 2012. Feliz Navidad.

Desaparecido

Estas desaparecido en el Babel de mis suegnos. Me olvidaste cuando yo aun te busco en las olas de viento que me impiden llegar a ti. Y desde que llegue, vivi esta vida esperando una caricia, un dia contigo, 24 horas sognando a que el mundo se esvanece bajo nuestros pies porque el mundo no cesa de transcurrir mientras tu y yo nos aprendemos nuestras almas sin dejar nada a la imaginacion. Pero la imaginacion nos gano la partida una vez mas; solo mi paciencia triunfo sobre la curiosisdad que perecio ante las demandas del tiempo que exijo antes de adentrarme en territorio desconocido. Que distinto seria si las personas fuesemos paisajes que recorrer, rios y mares que navegar, cielo que surcar. Pero esas pequegnas barreras que nos forman, que nos abren y nos cierran al mundo en el que habitamos, son a veces infranqueables por mal que nos pese a los revolucionarios que limpiamos todo con nuestra bandera humanista y vamos por la vida como la hoja que vuela en la brisa de un Otogno calido. Es nuestra ingenuidad la que mueve montagnas, la que nos inspira y la que inspira. De vez en cuando hacemos un alto en el camino para tomar fuerzas, para subir un poco mas alto a esa montagna que se erige frente a la duda que los cinicos nos ponen en el camino, como si fuse una piedra en la que tropezar o un peldagno en el que resbalar. Subimos sin mirar atras, guiados solo por el preludio de la vision que nos espera en lo alto, lejos del mundanal ruido , mas cerca que nunca de nosotros mismos y del resto del mundo. Una vez en la cima, emprendemos el descenso. Nos entregamos a el livianos, buscando nuevas aventuras, deciendo las palabras que imaginamos nunca se podrian pronunciar, Pero cada vez nacen de un modo diverso, dando un nuevo toque a esta coraza que se transforma en un proceso de matamorfosos infinito. Te quiero. Aunque lo dudes, aunque no te dejes convencer por la irracionalodad de mis historias para no dormir, de mis interpretaciones torpes como mi paso junto al tuyo, tan seguro y firme. Solo queria dejarlo claro, decirlo asi por lo bajito, solo para mi, para que la lluvia no lo destigna ni lo cubra de moho, como hace con todo lo demas. Mi boca sabe a cafeina y chocolate, a todos esos sabores que me invento y en los que me deleito mientras espero a que algo tenga sentido y a que algun barco pirata atraque en la Isla del Tesoro. Amo esta anarquia, este saber estar y hacerme sentir sin normas ni ley; esta llama que no se apaga, acarreando consigo el pasado de pasiones que cubre mis huesos, que da nombre a mi alma. De todo eso es de lo que construyo lo que queda por construir en este futuro incierto. Todo eso es lo que espero, lo que ansio, lo que agnoro. Enciendo un Blue Kings y la nicotina danesa imbade mis pulmones llenos de aires del mundo que rellenan los vacios entre las lineas que escribo pero nunca llegan a ser lo que quiero que sean. Aunque ahora que estoy aqui lo son y lo se porque el camino se conoce andando. Es este camino el que a veces me tortura con su meta incierta es lo unico que poseo y lo mas valioso que puedo ofrecer. Es el conocimiento lo que ansio y el poder compartirlo, poder debatirlo y echarlo por tierra para reconstruirlo una y mil veces, como si se tratase de una melodia insaciable. Como vamos a dejar que nos digan que es lo que quermos cuando ya lo sabemos? Pero eso solo es el comenzo porque quiero que lo que quiero se materialice; quiero que llegue el reino de las cosas mortals y que envejezca conmigo. Este suegno se muere por vivir fuera de la imaginacion. Ser muere por verse realizado bajo las plantas de mis pies, por crecer en mi vientre, por salir al mundo y cambiar todo aquello que yo no pude cambiar porque, al fin y al cabo, soy tambien esclava del tiempo. No puedo aprenderlo todo, pero puedo sacar provecho de aquello que se. Puedo difundirlo y hacerselo creer a aquellos que no tienen fe para que asi, los que gozan de poder, nos den mas libertad, mas posibilidades, mas espacio para crear y creer. Mas.

Itaca

So the whole horizon seems blue…pink for you, who always wanted to live a life different to the one you have. Take a deep breath. Are you ready? Well, you better are, because this is it. You are not going to follow that shooting star because you never really wanted it. At this very moment it might be flying around the cosmos, patiently waiting for the eyes that deserve it, allowing the dreamers to dream and the poets to write. It will be crashing soon because it all ends. And probably all its trajectory was a waste of time and space. How would anyone allow that to happen? Permitting the waste, the loosing of moments that are here and now for those who will never come? Who is in charge of such a poor organization? It isn’t me. That I can assure. I am here passing by. Just like the rest, but not quite like the rest. First, they told me to follow my heart, to aspire and try to get that that I wanted. And I did. And I failed. It’s not as easy as it seems. I mean, trying is the best part, but when all the effort comes to nothing. What can I say? Well, it’s not pleasant to live with all that is left. Basically, few words and some pieces of your soul scattered all over the crime scene, displayed in the open light, making you more vulnerable to judgment. They also said the fight makes you stronger, but you only get to see the results in the long run. That if you have the patient for it, of course. I was contempt with having my songs, my books, my films, my world all by myself. I was happy in there, in my imagined island fooling the world. Then you came in and changed it all. It usually happens when you cross your path with destiny. Nobody could resist that. So there is only one way to go. In my life I’ve met a lot of people who can control that call. They know how to silence the noise of the beats drumming like crazy inside your chest. But I was never tempted to live under that code. I wish I was, but I am not made of that wood. All I ever wanted was to love you and see the world. I didn’t care how I would walk those miles, because there was a time when I had the stamina to save any distance. I don’t want to write more about it. I feel like Rimbaud. Or at least I can imagine what he felt: disappointment, the roughness and weight of life on his amputated heart, on his inert poetry, on the impotent and cynic world in which he lived that never was willing to make a revolution for the sake of love. I am tired. You know why. You came to be like the corrupted politician who knows that all the demands he made will remain unfulfilled. You came to be what I feared the most: Words full of air. And still I waited. For the sake of the future, of the dream, of the stream of passion that runs wild inside me. It might sound selfish, but I dared to dream about you knowing that the dream will end. And every time it does in the same way: You vanish. Just like that. Like if you never were. Which Gods do we construct to worship? Which stupid reaction drives us to those who cannot cope with the energy we need to burn, to share, to ignite in the world to make it a better world? What’s wrong with a world that doesn’t care for those who try to save it? What’s wrong with me, blowing it up every time they give me the chance? I’d risked my life again. After all, I’d still do it. So that’s a creed I wouldn’t ask anyone to follow; but it’s only a personal one. Imposition does not exist in my vocabulary. I am running nowhere this time. As Damon Albarn said, I’ve got not distance left. So the plan, after all this Odyssey, is to build my shattered island once again. And live there happy forever after, like in a fairy tale. I’ll build a window to watch the world pass by, to listen to those who always inspired me through time and in time. I’ll keep my promises to myself. You don’t need to breath for me. You don’t need to watch over me. You don’t even need to remember me. I won’t be there for you as once I wanted to. We are meant to be free. That’s a precious gift, and I never again will be so selfish to ask someone to give it up to join me in this crazy idea of living the dream. La vida es como el mar. Hay que entregarse a ella como las olas.

El mundo en un grano de arena

Viene el frio implacable sin importarle que los simples mortals estemos o no preparados para su llegada. Cuando en Inglaterra todo eran quejas sobre el clima, ya hiciese frio o calor, brillase el sol o callese el chapurron del siglo, aqui el discurso meteorologico es totalmente diferente. Los daneses parecen estar de lo mas emocionados con la llegada de la nieve, como si cada copo trajese un pan debajo del brazo o un motivo para estar feliz. Y es que esto de la felicidad constante danesa me tiene un poco mosqueda. En parte porque soy gallega y mi codigo genetico me impusla a la desconfianza y en parte porque vengo de estar en un pais en el que la alegria magnanera solia levanter sospechas e irritacion en los lugaregnos. Aqui es al contrario. Si no sonries a diestro y siniestro, eres raro y muy pero que muy antisocial, lo que es una especie de crimen por estos lares. La verdad es que se me van a desgastar los dientes de tanto ensegnarlos, aunque a veces no se si lo hago en segnal de apreciacion y acercamiento o de cabreo. Porque la verdad es que en Oz no todo es color de rosa. Digamos que, como Dylan solia cantar, los tiempos estan cambiando. Si no hace tanto los estereotipos eran motivo de acercamiento, de descubrimiento y curiosidad, ahora parece que vuelven con una fuerza inquitante e inusitada para establecer barreras y marcar diferencias. Yo, la verdad sea dicha, nunca fui muy amiga de los encasillamientos por eso de que su falsa universalidad nunca hace justicia a las maravillosas particularidades de cada individuo. Sin embargo, los usamos para darle sentido a ciertas cosas; el peligro reside en que a veces los secuestramos para quitarselo. En ocasiones, nuestro entendimiento peca de vagancia y se conforma con lo que otros quieren que pensemos u opinemos. William Blake, romantico como era, decia que el mundo puede verse en un grano de arena. No es un ejercicio de lo mas sencillo, pero solo require un poco de voluntad y coraje. Creo que, no solo Europa, pero el mundo entero, necesita un poco mas de valentia, de querer ver el mundo en un grano de arena y no aislarse en una playa desierta sin diversidad ni atardecers cambiantes. Necesitamos sonreir, reirnos de las adversidades que construimos y cambiar las sospechas por curiosidad y acercamiento.Si nos paramos a pensarlo…Que tenemos que perder por atrevernos e intentarlo?

The Golden Door

It seems accents are, after all, not a source of exoticism, but an identity label, as much as the colour of your skin or your eyes is. Honestly, I am too lazy to speak about all these things I don’t believe in. I don’t want to give this fucked up world more excuses to ignite hate or whatever certain things people make you feel when they do what they do. I really want to keep on walking with an anonymous passport around all the fascinating places they remain to be discovered. It was really funny what happened to me today. Here I was, at Paludane, a total classy and cosy coffee shop in central Copenhagen, with my laptop, writing and checking my facebook from time to time, when this Danish guy and his father sit next to me. The young one addressed me in Danish and, well, I’ve been here for only two months; I am less than a beginner in this language. I guess that he noticed by my expression that I did understand nothing of what he was saying, so he immediately changed into English and with a rather shaking voice he asked me: -Oh…So…Are u Danish or what? (I think he meant: “Where are you from” or “Do you speak Danish”? …But…ok. Whatever) -No -Ah…Sorry… Ok, because… We are gonna talk …Do you mind? How nice was that? I mean I get it all the time with the male population in this country. They are polite in a sweet way I really find charming. I guess I do because I sense they mean it. I must say though that girls are different. They are more defiant and aggressive. Yesterday, while queuing to get a coffee in Espresso shop (bloody hell…They are so expensive. I think I’ll have to cut down on my major vice or go into a credit crunch in Spanish style) this girl came in and stepped in front of me. I didn’t say anything. I mean…Why should I? I wasn’t in a rush after all, so I allowed her to get along with it. However, two minutes later, after the waiter gave her a dirty look, she looked backwards, and in a very irritating tone she barked something at me. I made logical translation and I told her that it was ok, I didn’t mind. I do hate that kind of attitude. Honestly, why people have to do that? I would have had a better conception of her if she didn’t say anything at all. The way she “apologised” (because that’s what I think she was trying to do) was even worse than the fact she was plainly rude. And you are allowed to have a bad day, but not really to be an asshole 24x7. In that case, you don’t have a bad day: You have a huge problem. But, you cannot judge…Don’t do it Raquel. Keep an open and positive attitude. Try to learn, to absorb, to understand, to decode from a perspective that needs to be changed or moulded to get used to the new environment. Oh Damn! Let me tell you a secret: It’s difficult. I am tired. Curiosity

and tiredness shouldn’t go together. I must admit I feel an emigrant. Sometimes I do also in my own country, and this discomfort drives you to exhaustion and keeps you on in equal terms. Finding the balance is the key to happiness, the key to have the courage to carry on when you feel out of faith and energy in all the aspects of your life. Now I sound like a guru. I am just trying to discover by myself the entrance of the Golden Door and walk in.

Dare

You are here. You came in the night, sorrounded by your aura of mystery and playfulness and all those things I want to discover and posses. If you ask me, I think it's unfair wanting so bad to belong, to have, to get, when all my life I respected freedom, I wanted to be untied and let the river flow. All of a sudden I find myself wishing things I sometimes wanted, things I thought I wouldn't want again. But I do. Just when you think you are free form the earthly needs, you discover that you aren't. I am as human as everybody else. You came bringing your smile and everything was right and at peace. But time is decieving me because it seems everything stops when we are together when it only goes faster. Have a look at the world outside, how it contemplates us knowing what's going to happen. He knows us and I am the only one to blame for it. I think I was kind of predictable and so was the answer to my question. What a mess I am able to create out of nothing. It takes some skill to do soemthing like it. Either that or I am naturally gifted. I wonder what's so difficult in bringing to the stage a "yes" or a "no" without the noise in between. I thnk Arild was right: -Your question is too specific. Well, let me bring you the news Mr Fetveit: I am glad it was because I constructed it with that objective in mind. Apparently, it's much better to confuse, to make people believe that you mean exactly the oppossite of what you are saying...really?! No. It can't be. Sweet naivite. I need to get rid of it and start making truly complex statements. Or stop trying to pour my soul in each confession I make because, clearly, it's totally useless. Nevertheless, I must admit I like it. It makes me feel alive. You see? I don't need to be a "matador" or a racing car driver to feel adrenaline bumping in my heart, controling my whole body, sensing that the taste of passion makes me feel inmortal. Not at all. From time to time, the only thing I need it's to say what I feel. How many people tries that? I bet nobody. That's why we need to bring back romanticism and romantics from the forsaken land of the imagination where they were outcaseted. We need a better world that people can believe in and build, not one full of restrcitions and fears and already made sentences that we repit till the exhaustion and disenchantment of the mind and soul. We need to want to feel alive. It's a simple task that this box made an impossible goal. We are so saturated with promisses and vanal temptations that we feel contempt just with looking at them without trying to get them. We only need daring to reach what is there for us to catch. ...If you'd only dared...

cuanto lo quieres

Todas estas canciones hablan de lo mismo, de la misma historia que se repite como deseamos que se repitan las cosas buenas que tiene esta vida y que, cuando no lo pensamos, creemos que duraran siempre. Paseamos por la supreficie de este planeta como si fuesemos los dignos descendientes de los antiguos dioses griegos y los herederos de su inmortalidad por la que solian envidiarnos. El tiempo nos dio la razon. Venimos, cambiamos, hacemos la revolucion, el amor, la guerra y la paz y desaparecemos; nos esvanecesmo en el infinito universo que nunca nos pertencecio por mucho que lo hubiesemos pretendoido. Nos presto su belleza, sus incognitas para que nuestro tiempo aqui fuese mas llevadero. Nos arrojo a los ojos el polvo de estrellas del que un dia formamos parte y nos empujo a seguirlo buscando, aunque nucna tuviesemos del todo claro que es lo que queriamos encontrar. Ha llegado el invierno en el Norte de Europa, concretamente a Dinamarca, a donde ahora me encuentro. Ha llegado el frio glacial, cubriendo de silencio la belleza de esta tierra, su quitud, su misterio y su magia. Llega como una promesa, como un verdugo, como un ladron de guante blanco. Llega sin avisar, y desnuda los arboles, cubriendo los caminos de hojas que no tardaran mucho en desaparcer. Llega y tu te vas. O vienes. Vienes a mi? Me pregunto si es mi vera la que te espera o es la soledad que necesita compagnia. Me pregunto si tenerte cambiara algo que no quiero que cambie y a veces creo que no existe un caballero que me rescate de las cadenas de esta libertad que tanto amo. Que me podria ofrecer a cambio? Es que a caso hay algo mejor que esta sensacion de vivir sin bordes ni limites, sin relgas ni identidad, sin duegno ni esclavo? Que hay mejor que prometerle a la vida que le vas a entregar todo lo que tienes? Que mas podria querer de mi? Asi que no se si el que te decidas a entrar va a completar el espacio vacio que siempre he querido llenar. Temo a la rutina, a arruinar nuestars pequegnas sorpresas e intrigas diarias con saberlo todo, con caer en el tedio de no querer averiguar mas tus significados. Te deseo como enigma y el no saber que pasara si te resuelvo, me quita las ganas de intentarlo. Encender el deseo es facil. Mantener la llama, la curiosidad, las ganas...Es una cuesta arriba que no se si tengo la resistencia para escalar. Ya estube alli. Ya agote demasiada energia. Ya...Suena a determinista o derrotista. No me encierro en esta torre ni lo pongo dificil. Solo conozco el sabor amargo de abandonar el campo de batalla, y se que no quiero porbarlo de nuevo. Se lo que quiero. Lo tengo en frente. Cuanto lo quiero? Lo vamos a descubrir juntos.

Un ritmo diferente (mundooursense)

Ser una emigrante academica en Dinamarca esta resultando ser una experiencia bastante diferente a lo que era ser una emigrante laboral en Inglaterra. La vida de estudiante en este pequeno pais es de lo mas peculiar. La organiacion no es de lo mejor, empezando por el hecho de que la Universidad carece de suficientes viviendas para estudiantes extranjeros. El problema surge cuando aprendes que en Copenhagen, conseguir una habitacion en un piso compartido, se convierte en una mision identica a conseguir tickets para una final de Wimbledon: O los precios estan por las nubes o, sencillamente, no hay oferta, con lo que muchos estudiantes se ven obligados a pasarse semanas alojados en hostales hasta que encuentran algo. Independientemente del numero de estrellas que tengan los hoteles mas economicos, esto es Dinamarca: Son caros, sobre todo si eres estudiante con un poder adquisitivo no del todo compatible con el nivel de vida de este pais. Cuando, entre desesperado y arruinado, consigues abandonar la vida nomada de sabanas alquiladas, empieza la tarea de adaptarte a la cultura bastante tranquilota de los daneses. En los puestos del gobierno, la cosa funciona mas o menos como en Espana: trabajan lo minimo y parece que les pagan por palabra porque las respuestas sencillas y directas a los problemas mas nimios, sencillamente, no existen en su vocabulario. De donde habremos sacado el mito escandinavo de personas serias y organizadas? Mis primeras impresiones lo estan tirando por tierra. Aqui, diez personas distintas te daran diez versiones diferentes de los echos. Desde conseguir un carnet de estudiante, a abirr una cuenta de banco o ser asignada a un doctor, todo depende de tu suerte en dar con la persona adecuada que te explique exactamente que es lo que necesitas. En resumen, el ser mandada de un lado a otro para hacer cualquier tramite administrativo, parece ser el pasatiempo favorito de los lugaregnos. Creo que es una estrategia local para que los que no somos de aqui nos desquiciemos y volvamos a nuestro pais. Cuando te vas haciendo a estas rutinas y piensas que las cosas empiezan a rodar...Llega el obstaculo de todos los obstaculos: El idioma . Me pregunto para que querran ser bilingues y jactarse de ello si al final todos los documentos oficiales te llegan unicamente en Danes!? Lo que mas rabia me da es que no puedo quejarme, porque, al fin y al cabo, es el idioma oficial del pais. Asi que me esta saliendo complejo de Embajadora Espanola en Uzbequistan porque tengo que estar todo el dia pegada a un traductor personal para que me resuelva la vida. Me temo que el diccionario, en mi nivel -1 de comprension, es todavia inservible. El truco esta en armarse de paciencia por muy poca cosa que estas adversidades hagan que te sientas. Es una impotencia de lo mas incomoda. Pero tengo que ser justa. Admito que el estar aqui tinene muchas cosas positivas. El cafe es mejor que en Inglaterra. Las cafeterias tambien porque no hay grandes cadenas que homogeinicen el mercado: Cada lugar tiene sus peculiaridades, precios y bollitos. Tambien me gusta la sensacion de sentirme segura alla a donde voy, no importa la hora que sea. Y me encanta la carencia de estres. Aunque tu mente circule a mil por hora, aqui la vida va un poco mas lenta. Es algo que siempre se agradece cuando te tienes que acostumbrar a tantas novedades.

I am still here

Las night I dreamt I was going back. Back to the past, to the places I used to roam, to the known alleys and my missed views. But I had a weird unpleasent feeling. I didn't want to be there being aware I had given up what I am destinied to achieve. Therefore all the places I visited were there to remind me of my weackness. Still, I was so tempted to go there. I am still tempted. All the time, even though the nights are full of noises hiden in the fog, in the bubbles of the never ending rivers of beer, in the rays of sun coming out form the strangers' heads. All I want is here and now. At leats it's all I have. So I guess it is kind of absurd to hold on to my dear freedom if I dont' allow her to take me into its magical world of "Do what you want because you can. Be wherever you want to be because that is your place on earth". I guess I needed some fuel, some answers, some...light to clear up the doubts. My youthness remains alive in this constant search for that something in the streets I don't know, which names I cannot even pronounce. My youthness is gettign older and wiser evn when I am loosing my famous patience. The one who never abandonded me, stubborn as she is. I am loosing it waiting for that moment that comes and goes like the wind of this island. One day it brings me closer to extasis, and the next one I am back in the road aagin, alone, going nowhere, feeling lost. What do we want? Why do we let it go when we have it? Now it's too late. I am here, I won't go back. Think of all the things we've lost. I just think of all the things ahead of me. I don't look back in anger or sadness. All those things I miss,...I am not sure if I even miss them at all. I only see the road that goes on and on, reminding me that certain stops must be taken, but not for too long. What this one will be? I won't allow her to conquer me. Who dares to conquer the wind? I'll drink from her mouth but in the morning I'll be gone, thinking of her and how it construced me. Watching the time passing by. Mick, as always, was right: It is on our side. Because I am no longer in a rush. But I am not waiting either. Here I am. The way I am. The way I want to be.

Whatever happens.

You told me you wanted a story. I went to the forest to get you one. I walked deep in the greeness and thickness of the trees that were here before it all started and I tried to listen to the wind that teasses them showing no mercy. He said nothing new; nothing I didn't know. We both strolled together for a while, handing hands like new born lovers, untill the cold of his touch was unbearable for my skin. Few things in life are meant to be free and it's a waste of time trying to keep them. Doing that only increases the sense of dispair and loneliness we look forwards so badly to scape from. Few souls, even though they belong to each other, are destinied to walk alone the path of life. That I learnt. So I have your story now, I came here to tell it to you and it breaks my heart to leave you alone with it. I see myself moving forward, or backwards...Moving like a ship in the ocean with no land around. All I ever wanted is here, where your eyes scape my gaze, and I keep on staring to rescue them from the fire we both ignite with this uncontrollable desire. I wanted you to teach me this new world and show me the way home. But that offer never was and I'd will never asked for it. I know it takes some time to start form the start once again. But I am here, where not all dare to go. I was waiting for it, but I suspect the train never came, or left the station wihtout me noticing. However, this place I know so well it's kinds of nice. From my usual sit, I'll see you come and go, up an down, being cherised by the memories that never fail to keep us on alert from the past that resists to dissapear without a trace. Like the waters of a river that head somewhere bigger and unknown, and like the sand of a shore that never rests, I'll move somewhere different now. Away from you but keeping close in case you want to find me. There are so many things out there,,,,so many. I can't keep on waiting forever. I see too much insjustice, a world that crumbles and, regardless its decay, I want to find my place in it, because a fall is never the end. Why not? I also want you to be part of it, but I won't stop now before any kind of hessitation. So all I am asking you is to have the courage to make up your mind. And together we'll figure out the rest. We'll travel to all the places we want to see and we'll change whatever we can or whathever they let us change. We'll learn the codes, the ways, the words to keep on growing and renewing this love that, form the very first moment it appeared, it was destinied to never persish. They won't take that from us. That I promise. If you come it won't be one, but multiple stories to find because, as a wise man said, that's the only new thing on the world. If you decide to come the world will be a better place, regardless the will of many to hide it form the light it deserves. I will make it happen: Those impossibles that today keep us appart and parlysed, there will be there no more. What do I say? I say, I am on my way. And whatever you decide to do, I am taking you with me.

Kissing spot

Keep an open ticket

I haven't wrote for too long. Everyday since I arrived in Copenhagen I wanted to, but always something stopped me from doing it. I felt so sad, or so tired that I never found the time or the special motivation to say something that wouldn't make me wonder what I was doing here. When I was in Coram St I was visualising myself sitting for hours in front of the computer and writting non stop about all I would discover in my daily exploration of Denmark. I knew I would have the time to do it and I was expecting many things: more spare time, more impressions and more words. Specially the last ones, because I came to terms with myself: I cannot live without them. However, I spent days missing a lot of all that. I must recognise that it's been a diffcicult start; not just becasue all the begginigns are kind of hard: expectations always make them harder. Not that I had a lot of them but a few I did. I think I came here with two goals in my mind, and one of them is getting out of my reach, so I was feeling very unsettled because of it. My friends in Spain always told me I was a great adventurer...But I don't agree with them. I am more of a dreamer. Landing in new places is always unsettling for people like me. We need to familiarise with the streets, the names, the landmarks and look for some areas where our wanderig spirits feel free to observe instead being observed. New places are like nests to be built and sometimes it can be a very overlwhelming experience and activity. Moving to a different country is, no doubt, one of the greatest personal challeges that I always felt very comfortable taking. Adventurers don't worry about all that. They don't want to make any place "theirs". I wish I was one. Instead I always end up complicating my existence. Moving from one place to another it's a game for me, a source to renew my vital energy and an opportunity to enrich my mental humanistic framework. All that said, this movemnt had a lot o do with a call from the heart, in the very Susana Tamaro's words. Nevermind how worng its voice can be. I think it's necessary to follow its impulses because they usually are life-changing. I am a fervant believer in Mick Jagger and in the fact that everyday life can be already a heavy rutine. We don't need to sleep forever on that. w could sleep forever with Mick though :P Regardless the postivist side of starting a new life, I knew this time would be different. Not just because I am not 20 any longer. I still feel comfortable enough to send age to hell an do whatever I want. However, I have passed the barrier that, supousely, makes of you a mature and responsibl adult. I was that at 14. But it's truth that when I was 15 I imagined that in 15 years time I would have my house in the mountains....Or that I would be travelling the world and knowig cool people. Eonomic crisis and cold feet made me go for my second expectations. If you are reading this and you are a cool teeneger, follow my advise: Start building your future with different possibilities. Life is an unexpected journey. Keep an open ticket. I had many thoughts in my mind before I decided to say yes to the Danish University and start all over again afyer many years settling in a country I learnt to love as my own, despite the moments of rage against it. All the question marks that harassed me to the pint of taking me to hospital with anxiety attacks were the mer product of fear, of course. I learnt that sometimes it can be diffciult to control it, even when you don't have much to loose in taking the risk. At the end of the day is a risk and they can have a paralysing effect. It's been a weird month. 30 days unpacking stuff...slowly, holding on to some good memories I left in England while trying to adapt myself to my new "home". All I can say is that it feels strange; I feel this land is too alien to me. I don't notice the eagerness, the temptation to conquer it or to be conquered but at the same time, I also sense I like it. We need to give each other some more time, that's all. It's always a matter of time. And of not giving up. I never gave up on my dreams. It's strange because I won very few times in this race of following and persecuting what I ever wanted. Still. I keep on playing. I don't even think I have a good hand, but I just try to fight for what I desire. Desire can be thrillig, addictive and dangerous. Like many others, I very often desire the worng thing, but if that makes me feel good...I go for it. If that makes of me a fool, I do not mind as long as I am a happy one. I guess there had to be some advantages in playing this game. Even when you are desitnied to loose it. Certainly following the path you want to follow it's not a bed of roses. On the contrary: It hurts. It's hard to take the dissapointments, the realisation that, as Mick says, You can always get what you want. But, it's also truth that just the try is worthy. I came here wanting a change the direction in which my life was going. I wanted to continue and finish my education (I don't think that this would be the end...I am too adicted to the whole thing now. I am a knowledge-junk) And I wanted to follow a blinding light. Hell yes! I am an idiot. A romantic. But I hope I never get to the stage of feeling any shame about it. I still don't know what I am going to find in here. It's too soon. For now all I can say is that I am proud of this me that always find the will even when the will is no more.

Dancing with Wolves

It's damn hard to be a woman. Even after the revolution of the welfare that takes care of our rights; even after the boom of the Feminist Theories and their collective and isolated rebellious actions agains the patriarchal system that gave us back the control of our sexuality; even after Madonna explotied our more masculine side emboding in her persona the metamorphosical abilities that our body and personality allows us to express without loosing our feminity....Even after Almodovar showed and made the West believed that's there is total compatibility between being a bit crazy and depressed and hysteric with being able to take the reins of our lives and make everyody dance at the rhytm of our high heels. Recently, society has taken possesion of our wombs, turning us into social reproductive machines, but somehow, we are more protected than we ever were inside the codes and laws that give us the staus of individuals with a bit of power to, independently, control our destiny. We made it with a lot of effort involved: Our personal became political. Now we are free and independent... From whom? Well, actually nature was always our ally. We were subjecte to it by a more powerful force, but that never made us loose our strenght. Now that nature is under peril of being suplanted by the irresistable wish to fully control it, we'll be able to expand beyond our bodies and only time will tell us what more wonders the future will bring. Still, we'll adapt to them all and become stronger. So we also need to be free and independent from oursleves because I still feel very vulnerable to the objectification and the cliches. Objectification and clasification to a concrete model of life that you are supposed to have. I know that that's a quest that has been generally solved, but when it becomes personal, it brings the same questions and doubts, the same impotence and anger against the unavoidable. No matter how hard you've worked or studied, how much you want to see the world and the people in it. Someone always wants to put you back in the constructed role that defines what a person with my genitals should be. And I don't care wherever the wind will blow, because I'll keep on dancing with wolves. I guess that that pisses off a lot of people. But that makes me happy the same way it makes me sad having to explain over and over a why that I don't really understand any longer. I guess logic it's never been my strenght. I am more driven by those insticst that social rules and western reason tried to supress for considering incosistent. I know..but that doesn't show my inability to reason which are the purpuses and the materials of my visions. It's just that nobody cares, because everybody make you the same old questions. And that happening it's the realisiation that there's no room for difference. No matter how hard we fought for it. We need to keep on fighting for more. The so used word space has become the most valuable possesion in our modern societies: Geographical , virtual, emotional space. You name it. Everythng is measured according to its possesion or lack of it. As a woman, I want... I claim more space for my presence and my views. A tolerant space that does not condemn me to live under the stupid rules of stupid men. I wanna cohabit with the clever and open minded ones who understand that my needs are not so different from them. I want the freedom I always had to be acknowledged and valued for what it is and not for what nature made me.

Keep on changing

Identity...a very funny word. I've been thinking a lot about this lately; not only because it's our task for the next seminar in "Nation, Faith (...)" but also because I think that, as crucial or fascinating as it might be to find a definition for this concept, it's also enormouly complex and difficult to come up with one.
Who am I? does it depend at all on the place that I come from? Who built that place? Was it a natural construction or one forged through bloody battles, impossitions and restrictions? Is it the people who ihabit a country the ones who create its stereotypes or are those who look at them the ones who do it? Am I intrinsicably linked to those streotypes? Am I Spanish...Why? Is my blood a mere red liquid or a constructed cultural concept?
History plays with the ego of those who think that things were always the way they are at the moment. But we all know history has very little to do with being a naural phenomena. We, with our actions, textual construcitions and war declarations, give birth to her in a very painful way, as it couldn't be otherwise. And when we do it, we create it and become her subdits.
We tend to close oursleves up in reduced and axfisiating geographical limits and, at the extremest point, in physical ones, even when we keep on crossing borders, of consuming goods that we no longer procude inside the limits of our countries. We even fall in love and have children with stranger cultural individuals, and that offspring, that inner unavoidable act of creatin, will jeopardise with its existence the concept of "truly something".
It might be that globalization is pushing us forwards and backwards. It's forcing us to find new dfinitions of truths that no longer can survive under their label of truthfulness.
Globalization has a slow path, but it's blurring many borders helped by human discoveries in techological areas. It's not leading us to a future in which progress is the key concept of humanity, but instead it's opening new debates that for so long we fought and dominated with simplistic actions that avoided words.
We live in a time when the shift is night. And we should not fear the challenge of jumping into this new area.
I don't think that Nation or Nationalty are, or will ever be, fixed terms. No matter how hard governemnts try and will try to make then that. They change like humans do. The earth belongs to hesrlef, the same way persons do or, definetly, SHOULD be able to.
I am not scared to loose my identity, because it never was something that intrinsicaly and naturaly belonged to me from the fisrt time I saw the light in this planet. Even if a piece of plastic says so or inmigration authorities try to keep me away from staying in a specific place as much as I'd like to stay there. What a "funny" and sad way of controlling the consumption and enjoyment of natural resources!!
I made myself; or at least I am trying to.
True, I grow up in a very specific environment, but I never looked at it as an ideological, cultural or geographical prison, but as a code to understand and mould the world. The entire world, not just a very small piece of land.
That's why I am not scared to play. To go outside and keep on changing.

Yellow...If Chris allows me to borrow it for a while.

After my confessions of a dangerous mind, I'd like to unveil what others already know...Everybody seems to know but me.
I'd like to find a way, a magical portal where to enter and be able to say all the things that always scape my mind when you are next to me. So much reharsal...but when the time hits, I only hear the silence. The silence totally absorbed in the shape of your mouth, or the curve of your fingers, or your incredibly naivite that I can't help to hate and adore in equal proportions. This contradiction doesn't help at all when it comes to put some sense in this crazy heart of mine. I like it. I like you.
It's gonna take some time to forget you and carry on, because I linger in the gazes that trap me for a while. I dont know what I see in them...what I see in you.
I get comfortable in being entirely counscious hipnotized by my own fantasies in which you are the star with so much presence that there is room for none else. I quite enjoy that self imposed belonging.
However I'd wish ... I'd wish all this was efortless and worked without so much thinking involved. I was expecting a question that most probably will never come, but I must say I fully enjoyed all your sourprises.
How could you know that I am exhausted of the long run distances? I've run all my life to and from my feelings. And I want to stop.
I came here to stop and I dreamt of finding a break. Instead, I got more tempest,...but you are the reason why poetry and open endings should exist. I guess that's the real thrill I've found in you. So stop or not...thanks for being my "yellow".

Forgive and forget for an F

Today I feel like wrtting to report those so called friends who always emerge with their absurd and very sarcarstic comments that never help when you need it the most. Therefore, my own personal conclusion is that it's always better to remove them from the very broad and very sepcific category of "friends".
That it's definetly a painful process because a lost of trust goes to hell when you do it. Trust and also the realisation of how wrong and blind can you be sometimes.
But there's is also a positive aspect of the drama emerging from such occasions and that's it that the shitty load that stops you from moving faster in any direction you choose in your life, is gone when you go for the removal.
Gone with the wind or with a very efortless gesture of deleting a number or an e mail address or any kind of contact that you have maintained with a concrete person when the times seemed better.
However, what works the best for both sides in these situations it's to totally ignore each other, which does not require lightening space in your virual accounts. It's just a personal status that significantly improves your mental health because, simply, you are not thinking at all or suffering for what others might be thinking, saying or doing.
It's only then you become free to keep on going, to let in in your life new loosers or the right ones that are queing to come in.
And if (you know who) borrowed me his wings to get here, I am gonna let them in. The right ones, I mean. Well, actually they might be as bad as the previous ones who caused me so much trouble, but...you know what?! They are my personal choice. They are what I want and what I need and so I'll let them be without caring for judgements of any kind. Not even mine. Less of all yours.
In here it's all new and my expectations are not exception. I know there is always the same pebble in my shoe, but I am getting used to walk comfortably with it inside. I never bothered or asked anyone to carry my load for me, so I am just happy doing it all my way, as old Franky would say.
I am happy having the one close, who cares if he doesn't care or doesn't even know? There's a purpose in what we do, even when we don't know quite clearly what that purpose is. So even if my reason to be here was originally wrong, I'd stil be happy to have had the courage to follow my instincts and listen to their call.
So, you can go on and bother yourlsef in getting annoyed seeing how others have the balls to follow their dreams. You can keep on being this sad creature you are trying to overcome to be truly free. But for that, you'll need more than your wit. I'm afraid you'll need to change your egocentric way of seeing things, of trusting your clever statements and focus on what you want for youself, instead of commneting on what others decide for them and who they want to share it with.
And after all, I wish you luck , because this fucking trip called life is damn hard, and we always should be forgiven for commiting the same mistakes.
That's all I can wish you though, for nothing else matters anymore when the next stage I condemn you to is forgetness.

Mas locos, por favor.

Hoy he vuelto a tener una charla con mi casero y he caido en la cuenta de que cualquier parte del mundo es un pequegno ring de lucha libre en donde las personas suben a darse golpes, a demostrar su valia o a simplemente dejarse aplastar por el mas fuerte.
Los mitos son necesarios porque cuando no se tiene algo, logicamnete, se aspira a ello. Sognamos, incluso pensamos y planeamos en adquirir lo que nos falta y aquello que envidiamos en otro ya que damos por sentado, al menos a priori, que el conseuirlo nos haria mejores; pero cuando nos ponemos en su piel, las cosas no resultan tan idilicas.
Los mitos caen, como los heroes se han ido esvaneciendo en la historia; principalmente en la moderna, en donde somos todos una masa homogenea pujando por llegar al mismo sitio en diferente marcas de ropa y coche.
Los mitos caen cuando los vivimos de cerca, pero no es un motivo de desilusion. Al contrario. Es un aprendizaje enriquecedor.
Comparar es una cualidad que hemos tendido a perder en la creencia ciega de respuestas que otros nos dan en lugar de buscarlas nosotros mismos. A veces es desalentador el ir en pos de algo que solo existe en nuestra mente, como si fuesemos unos locos adeptos y perseguidores de ideas platonicas que son solo eso: Ideas. Pero el mundo necesita a esos locos que ven claro a donde quieren llegar, aunque el camino no haya sido trazado.
Si todos llevasemos dentro un poco de pioneros, puede que el mundo caminase en miles de direcciones en lugar de reducirse cada vez mas a un producto standard de coorporaciones homogenizadoras.
No me quejo de las facilidades. Pero agnoro el gusto de la diversidad, las opciones, las posibilidades. Quizas yo construya, aunque solo sea en mi mundo, un poco de todo eso. Y si estoy loca es cosa mia porque ya no aspiro a contagiar con mi locura a nadie mas que a mi misma.

Getting used to

I don't know how many times I stopped by the Lakes to have a look at the elegant swams that swin in them. They are so beautiful that I can't help myself: Every time I cross the bridge I reduce the not so fast speed of my byke so I just can stare at the swams for few minutes. They dance in the waters covered in a green film mixed with the reflect of the sun on them, making of it all a very special view.
I don't know why this scene keeps on reminding me of Cambridge. Not so much the Lakes, but the old buildings in the city centre. They both have the same laberynthic streets, the very same narrow alleys an the stones that seem to stand proud before the gaze of the tourists that are not so abundandt in here. There is always some group of people lost in their maps, fighting with their rain coats and the wind, while trying not to get run over by any of the many bikes that are the real traffic in Kobenhavn.
There are also many parks all ove the city and people here seems to be very into sports. They are always doing soemthing: Biking, running, jogging, skating...It's the survival of the fitteset, hehe.
I haven't started to properly study (or trying to) the language. It's so weird. Specially the pronunciation. So, for the moment, I'm just letting my ears get used to these new sounds. I'll soon start to write down words and see if I can connect them to something... or even memorice them. Maybe I wont be able, but it's part of the adventure. Amongst other things, of course. So many...
Today it's been 7 days since I'm here.
Somehow it seems longer, but not. Only seven days...and even if I didn't, I've got the impression I've done many things.
Some days I am feeling restless, wanting to go here and there. Other days I am scared to leave the house only because I don't have a place to settle after my long walks around the city. I used to have one in London, but I haven't found one in here. Not yet, and that makes me feel like a forigner.
Of course I am one, but when you make the city yours just by the act o finding a nice cofe shop, or a particular spot where you feel comfortable...right then, is when you start mingling into the rythm of the place.
Hopefully that wil happen soon.
So far, so good.

Chapter I

Construir un cielo en la tierra lleva mucho tiempo, dinero, esfuerzo, dedicacion, vision. Es una ambicion de reyes, de la gente comun de un territorio determinado, de la historia q puede ser dadivosa o castigadora y de la diosa fortuna que, en la mayoriad de los casos, es caprichosa. Un cielo se construye a diario, aunque temrinarlo lleve dos siglos y miles de manos el concluirlo.
Un cielo se puede levantar en una noche, en un dia, en unos minutos....Se puede hacer de piedras o miradas, de gestos o caricias. Se invita a el a los que solo se quiere invitar, y es entonces cuando adquiere el estatus de Paraiso; personal, cuando sus transeuntes no ven en el el signifiado que otros vemos.
Probablemente nunca regrese a esta azotea y sin embargo mis recuerdos sabran del lugar como las lineas de mi mano conocen mis dedos. Dos hicieron el camino, aunque solo uno rezase en los peldagnos paraque el tiempo no marchitase su memoria y le permitiese gozar de la vision de una ciudad vista a traves de los ojos de un corazon que todavia late al ritmo de su propia cancion.

Capitulo I

Solo es lluvia, decian los zapatos gastados. Solo es lluvia filtrandose por los nuevos huecos de mis viejas suelas, llegando al alma de los pies que aspiran con arrastrar los suegnos hacia nuevos horizontes.
Esto es una tierra de relajacion, de olor a nuevo en un paisaje de viejos edificios que escaparon a muchos incendios. Es un cielo girsaceo al que asoma un timido sol entumecido por las tinieblas diurnas. Supongo que es un nuevo cominezo, no de cero, pero casi.
Al fin y al cabo, no he salido de los confines de Europa, con lo que las diferencias no son tantas; se trata mas bien de pequegnas cosas que me causan sensacion, como los precios...Bueno, mas bien, no es sensacion lo que me causan, sino un sentimiento de desmayo, de angustia y desesperacion que espero se esfume en cuanto me haga mas a la rutina del pais.
El idioma erige frente a mi una barrera mental que las opiniones sobre su difcultad no ayudan en absoluto a derribar, sino todo lo contrario. Pero la perseverancia puede mucho; incluso la propia incredulidad. Perseverancia y curiosidad, porque, al fin y al cabo, las pequegnas cosas de la vida diaria estan escritas en Danes. El mundo aqui, como es logico, esta envuelto en otra lengua, y para acercarse a el, hay que atreverse un poco con lo que la pereza impide que me ponga todas las noches: Diccionario, lapiz y afila para agudizar mi memoria. Poco a poco se conseguira. Me conformo con entender lo basico, que ya no es poco.

Y por poco se me olvida hablar de la verdadera llamada: No solo la aventura, la sed de conocer, el espiritu inquieto...Fue un golpe del corazon. Venir al Norte, mi Norte, mi estrella reluciente en medio de la oscuridad de mis pensamientos. Fue un leve escozor en la planta de mis pies, en las escamas de salmon que me empujan contra corriente lo que me trajo aqui, a la ciudad de Copenague. Asi, de una gran isla me vine al pais de las pequegnas islas. Y aqui estoy, dispuesta a empezar el trayecto, el viaje una vez mas, la peregrinacion a ese santuario de historias compartidas, de kilometros que nunca restan, sino suman a la experiencia vital.

Ya os contare las anecdotas, el efecto sorpresa al que un viajero autentico es adicto sin remedio. Os escribire desde una habitacion con vistas a un jardin, a un patio, a una carretera...Desde donde sea, contare la historia de los sucesos que van dando vida a la imagen de una cultura ajena y de sus gentes.
Mimare con mi memoria el recuerdo de lo que traigo a mis espaldas, pero frente a mi, abrire camino y le dejare espacio al aire nuevo para que me asombre y ensegne.

Still to soon to say good bye

At the end I didn't have the time to tell you how much I was gonna miss you.
We were one moment alone, like we found each other for the first time, and we knew that no words could show all this we share.
I left you behind and while the train was taking me away, I thought I saw you crying; but those were my tears. They reminded me of that farewell of many years ago, when I jumped in the bus while in the street someone was opening the envelope with my good bye letter.
I didn't want that drama again.
I saw your skies, blue for a change, before my vision of you got interrumpted for the walls of the tunel, the border where you start for some and end for anothers. And I went into it the same way I came to the world: With a new life ahead, catching breath like it was for the first time.
I miss you already, but this is the start I so much needed. This is the step into the wild, into the unkown that always calls for me. And I cannot silence its voice. It's too strong.

El triunfo de la esperanza

Si nos creiamos a salvo entre las bambolinas de una democracia de papel, la tragedia de una mente capaz de sembrar y causar panico, nos ha devuelto a la inevitabilidad del caos y a la existencia del mal. Este siempre puja por salir, no importa cuanto empegno una sociedad basada en ideales de respeto, tolerancia, educacion y democracia ponga para erradicarlo; se resiste, lucha contra el bien comun para patentar su presencia. Y deja su huella catastrofica en el imaginario comun y en las aguas y calles tegnidas de sangre.
Entonces...Somos producto de nuestro medio o es nuestro medio producto de nuestras acciones? Como es posible que en el seno de una pacifica comunidad, alguien decida desviarse de una senda logica y admirable y se convierta en un monstruo?
A caso es la democracia de esa sociedad tan axfisiante que hace necesario defender ciertas ideas a golpe de balas, marcando cada victoria con una victima mortal?
A los humanos aun nos gobierna el imperativo genetico de defender un territorio. Nos sentimos amenazados cuando nos enfrentamos a lo ajeno. Y ese miedo nos ha conducido a levantar muros, declarar guerras, plantar bombas, identificar a personas con numeros y encuadrarlas o, si se da el caso, encerrarlas dentro de unas fornteras epecificas. Fisicas y geograficas. Pero nuestra evolucion social nos ha hecho avanzar hacia un escenario conciliador. Llegar a el supone eliminar de nuestro sistema un sinsentdo que para nuestros instintos primitivos siempre fue razonable.
La razon...La razon tambien nos ha jugado malas pasadas. Controlar nuestra naturaleza no siempre es facil y las vias que encontramos para hacerlo, no siempre las adecuadas. Pero, nos guste o no, son las que nos han conducido a donde estamos hoy: Dando vueltas en circulo, buscando la respuesta, cuando lo unico que tenemos que hacer es plantearnos mas preguntas.
El contrato social se forja a base de imposicion y aceptacion voluntaria. No hay una sin la otra y me temo que no hay una solucion simple.
Las ciencias sociales no responden a formulas matematicas. En este cocido hay muchas habichuelas y por mucho fuego lento y cuidado que pongamos en su preparacion, el resultado final no esta garantizado.
Sin embargo, la esperanza tambien triunfa en estos casos, en estas situaciones en las que alguien quiere apagar la luz y hundirnos en la miseria de pensar que todo esta perdido. la oscuridad puede ser tentadora (...) pero nunca la solucion.

I want to live in America

Las comparaciones son odiosas, pero despues de mis recientes y cortas vacaciones, comparar se ha convertido en el pan mio de cada dia.
Hace unos meses por fin decidi que ya iba siendo hora de cruzar el charco y contemplar nuestra vieja Europa desde otra persepectiva. Tras varias semanas ahorrando cada penique de mi raquítico sueldo, una cajá de tranquimacin y unos litrillos de tila, me meti durante 9 horas en un avion que me llevo directa de Londres a la ciudad del pecado: las mismisimas Vegas.
En “The colonies”, como se refieren los britanicos a los USA cuando quieren heriri susceptibilidades y hacer gala de su humor sarcástico, me encontre con espacios abiertos y mucho calor, geografica y humanamente.
Inglaterra no es la chica mas popular al otro lado del Atlântico No me sorprendio demasiado que el 4 de Julio, mi segundo dia en la tierra prometida, un programa de su TV proclamase que solo el 60% de la poblacion supiese de que pais EEUU habia conseguido su independencia.. Sin embargo, me sorprendio gratamente que Spain es, al menos para los pocos americanos con los que intercambie algunas palabras, un pais para el que solo tienen piropos. Eso si, tuve que ser sincera y desmentir su creencia de que en Europa nuestro idioma es tan popular como lo es en los Estados Unidos, en donde no dejaba de escuchar Spanish a diestro y siniestro. Quien mas y quien menos, todos chapurrean unas cuantas frases. En el hotel de Las Vegas me sentia como en el casting de “Romance en Manhattan”, cuando en Inglaterra, tras seis agnos de convivencia com los monolingues britanicos, aun me veo forzada a inglesizar mi nombre para que no se les derritan los sesos al intentar pronunciarlo.
Esta visita daba para muchos capítulos, pero la concluiria asi: No me voy a poner a cantar a lo West Side Story en version Porto Riquena con acento gallego eso de “I want to live in America”, pero mi primera impresion es que los americanos son mas abiertos y menos miedosos a acercarse a los desconocidos. Son mas curiosos y expontaneos. Yo diria que hasta mas divertidos. Claro que no se puede tener todo, pero para picar y tener uma idea general,os recominendo una visita al pais bajo cuya hegemonia cultural crecimos....Ah si...no os lo dejeis todo en el Casino si os da por aterrizar en Nevada. Un matrimonio express os sale mas barato.

Adicta a la adiccion y la adicion

Ahora es cuando toca una cancion de despedida. Donde quedaron los 20 poemas de amor? Neruda los ha hecho tan bien, que a mi solo me toca atisbar el titulo y plantarme. Pero aun queda bastante por decir, porque sabemos que esos versos no son de quien los escribe. Puede que siempre los necesite, aunque solo sea para recordarme que la locura del amor piensa en musas que insipran su descabellada idea de vida.
Mis musas, o musos, se han ido esfumando y materializando para evaporarse e idealizarse de nuevo. Que no me sale la cuenta, vaya. Al menos no en este mundo.
No se si estoy cansada de aferrar las riendaso de aflojarlas. Como se doma a una manada de caballos salvajes que tiran de mi? Llega ese punto en el que la lucha es apetecible, pero mas lo es la tregua, el dejarse vencer y dejar al tiempo a sus anchas para que las heridas se curen o sean curadas. Hay un punto de inflexion en el que te cansas de interpretar el destino hacia el que apunta esa brujula que siempre llevas en el bolsillo y prefieres que un gps guie tu camino. Como dice el sabio libro sagrado: Hay un tiempo para sembrar y, consecuentemente, uno para recoger.
Asi que me siento, enciendo un cigarro y pienso en mi epoca de siembra...Y me da la sensacion que es lo unico que he hecho. Asi que visualizo los frutos y siento que mi energia, antagno inagotable, ya me pide otro ritmo y un cambio de rumbo.
La paciencia va a la par...Ultimamente su ausencia me ha jugado malas pasadas. Hoy en dia, esto de la paciencia, segun muchos madre de todas las ciencias, se ha convetido en un articulo de lujo. Hay que dosificarla o atenerse a la consecuencias de vivir sin ella. A caso se puede? Tal y como esta el panorama y los que lo pueblan, me temo que no.

Asi que, en medio de la duda, nunca del todo disipada, llega el cambio. Y lo abrazo como si fuese una tabla en medio del oceano. Pero no opto por la salida facil. Mas lucha. Al final resulta que sere adicta. A la adiccion y la adicion.

Let's find out.

All these plans are getting to the realisation stage.
Allow me to tell you how weird it feels to open an envelope and see how two slim numbers reflect all the stress and hard work of a course.
There I was this afternoon, standing in front of a piece of paper I hardly recognised. I tried to go through the intro and the conclusion once again, but I am still sore from the painful process that was to put all those thoughts on paper. I am sore from the mornings that I got up too early, grabbed my coffee and went straight to the office to write. I remembered all the hours I spent in front of the computer, debating with myself, fighting with my clumsy writing, putting in order all the information I gathered during the research period, putting myself together and leave my life aside, let my love leave without saying a proper goodbye. All that to find a little inspiration, a bit of magic that transformed the acquired knowledge into a project.
Today I am still seeing all the weekends I spent in front of the books, my evenings gone with the wind, thinking of the best argumentative lines.
Not just this London adventure. Today, my foreign effort is culminating its first stage and it has materialised in the fulfilled challenge that one day I decided to take long time ago, when, still a child, I decided to pack my cases and and discover my ways of opening the world's secrets.
I am not ready yet to stop and have a closer look at all this. But I feel proud of that person who pushed herself to go ahead, even when the goal seemed too far and the obstacles too overwhelming. I just decided to go on. Maybe then I knew that one day I would be able to look back and wonder at the little marvels of that world I couldn't have imagined.
Today I feel that life still goes fast. I am taking impulse to keep moving, because I just want to know how September will look like. I am so ready to pass to the next stage that this impatience is making me miss the important moments. This moment of getting to the point where all was gonna end when 4 years ago all was just about to start.
Right now I see myself facing many questions that come from all directions, but the most challenging ones are those that arise from my mind and interrogate me about personal and professional aspirations.
I don't think that now there is time to give time. The present calls for action, because looking for excuses is something that belongs to the past. It does not satisfy me to don't know.
So..let's find out.

What reality could possibly offer better than this?

It seems that I still have some capacity to laugh at myself so, why not doing it? It's a healthy exercise to keep the self esteem...or to indulge it somewhow.
It's a kind of twisted gift to know your weaknesses and most stupid mistakes and keep on repeating them entirely consciously.
Actually, I wonder what for we do have a conscience if it does not stop us from committing these little faults. It cannot be that our learning process is so retarded. So I choose to believe that the reason of our clumsiness derives from our love for the known defeat and our masochist longing to taste it, like if its sour flavour was the only thing that could prove how right we are in being wrong.

Never mind. I guess I just have fun being wrong. I'd like to find someone who, just for once (for Pete's sake, just once), was there even when that happened, just to make me feel a bit less stupid. But it must e true: I ask too much.
The truth is that I might not know or have any other way of being. I am the stupid and senseless mistake doer. The idiotic trustee.
On the top of that all I am watching one of my favourite movies with one of my favourite lines ever. I took those words as a personal credo from the very first moment I heard them: "Your heart is free; have the courage to follow it". You know which one I am talking about, don't you?
If not, google is always happy to help.
Some things are too good to be ignored. It's funny they always existed in us, but heard them aloud brings them to light, reassuring us in our stubborn believe of a belonging to a selected club of humans that feel and dream in similar ways. And when it happens, we obviously feel in tune wit the Universe.

But I guess this is it. Why to expect anything else? How naive from us to think that people we love have the capacity to read our minds, to guess our deepest desires, even when they are so simple. .. Even when they refuse to answer a simple question.... We just wish they did. We just wish they loved us back; even for a little while. The problem is that not always we fail for those who can or are able to do it. Such is life.
But, to be honest, making things easy is not an attractive rule for this game, simply because the game would become unworthy. When gambling we can loose it all. It's a possibility we must be ready to face.
The question is... Do we ever get tired of playing?

PS. Thanks for never answering to my questions. Wondering leaves room for specualtion and imagination... For arguments....And, eventually, obvlivion (what a pity. It could have been such a good one. Did we care what they thought?). In the majority of cases, that's more than reality could possibly offer.

Forever S.

I cannot pretend. Not even to myself. Who am I trying to fool? I do belong here, where a missing feeling can be cured by simply pressing play and letting your voice take me back home; where home is not so far away.
I carry that bloody country in my blood, in my thoughts...it's me. It's in my heart. It over takes all my self, leaving no space for anything else. It's axfisitating, like the greyness that today covers all: The sky and the hopes as soon as you turn the paper pages...From section to section, all their words talk about a sinking ship. They are like tenacious lyrics, repeating themselves till we come to take them as prophecies impossible to avoid. Too bad if you do not believe in destiny, because the future is foretold and there's no place left to run.
And in this agonizing atmosphere where the future is as black as the better Stone's song, I feel like playing the violin, as if I was one of the Titanic musicians, letting go and remaining till the end is night.
All these years walking on my line to find a way back, and I just came to realise that there is no way back. Every day I spent away from you, took me closer to a goal where your name is not inscribed, though it remains in the background like a promise to be fulfilled. Will I be ever able to go back to you? Have I ever left you?
It tortures me to hear from alien mouths words that hurt and degrade you. And when that happens, all I want to do is to slain the throats of those who dare to treat you like that. There are some lines we trace that none should cross. There are some lines too difficult to erase, some sacred sacraments in a godless world that had lost its faith that none should question.
And all I've got right now is my faith in you. I embrace it like a loaf of wood in the largest of the oceans where I found myself cast away.
I'll go with you if you decide to go down or if the rest of the world wants to take you there. Never mind how down. I'll follow you till the end. I am as much as your child as you are mine.
I want them to love you like I do, to see you with my eyes. But I find myself unable to transmit this energy that bounds us together. The way we belong to each other...I should wish this pain to none. I feel envious and pride of the pleasures you give to those who know how to find and understand you. We do not need anyone else.
I do not have the patient to explain the paradise no longer. Forgive me if I ever doubted you. Your soil is all that makes sense when everything else has lost its meaning.
Even for this nomad soul. Even for an eternal pilgrim, there must be a place called home. And that's where we are heading, never mind we are far in a physical distance. Home is you, it's here and now.

So if you ever felt like that, sing it to me once again. With that voice of yours like no other. Talk to me about love, like only you understand it and feel it, with that passion we do not know how to live without. They'll take it all, but we'll never surrender it. So, till you allow me to be yours, I will be yours forever.

Jackson

Jackson.
This song was in my head all day long; I couldn't stop singing it.
It obviously made me think of you. How curious...My memory fighting against the inevitable oblivion,, stubbornly resisting against it.
I wonder if I still exist in your mind; if, by surprise, I appear in any of your thoughts at any point of your days or nights, when you less expect it, while you prepare to go to work or when a random song plays on the radio...; most probably you have forgotten about the short distance that played against us since the first moment we met. You might have forgotten about me. If that's the case, nothing of this should have sense. But, the problem is that all this refuses to leave me in peace. It throwed me up to heaven and now I am in my solo crashing down to the ground.
You'll never know how hard I tried to kill that distance that ended up by killing me. You won't know how much I fought the fear to cross the border of few steps that kept us apart. Such a small distance...I would never had guessed it took all that courage to face and defeat.
But that's a small confession for a dangerous mind that will dare to keep it secret, away from suspicion and bad judgements. That's a confession for time's mind.
Of all the few moments we shared, I do remember one in particular: You, pressing your head against my shoulder in a very sweet gesture that made me want to hold you and never let you go. That moment, like all good and magical moments, lasted only for a whisper, but i knew I'll always remember it.
When it passed, I thought my eyes had revealed to everyone in that room the brutal desire I felt for you. I thought it was obvious, because I felt my soul flooding the air, stopping time, crashing the words they were being freed in the space. It seemed to me that the beating of my heart was marching like crazy, calling to war...But none moved. Not even me. I got paralysed. I was scared to break the spell, to bursts into flames ignited by your lighlty touch... That's how much I needed...That's how much you gave me with don't even knowing.

Some times my hands long so bad for your touch that it hurts and nothing or none can save me from that pain. I have to breath calmly into the night and embrace that memory, sing it a lullaby till it goes to sleep and allows me to rest. Some days I miss you so much that...I just wish you were here. And there's nothing I can do about it.

La Union

Dice un articulo de El Pais que, segun las encuestas, la mayor parte de los ciudadanos de Espana apoyan el movimiento de los indignados; si seguimos leyendo el articulo tambien se menciona que dichas encuestas reflejan la incredulidad de la gente en que el movimiento se radicalice y concluye con que, en muy poco tiempo, nadie se acordara de que estas manifestaciones existieron.
Supongo que las encuestas tienen su parte de razon, pero los politologos sabemos que de ellas no se pueden sacar conclusiones definitivas. Sirven para apoyar ciertas conjeturas, pero los resultados no pueden generalizarse ni tomarse por verdades concluyentes. Nos dan una aproximacion a la realidad.
Por eso, aunque no es definitiva, me asusta esa sensacion de derrota, de abondono, de abulia que parece ser que es lo unico que arraiga en esta Europa tan moderna de la que todos queremos sacar beneficio pero muy pocos estamos dispuestos a aportar constructivamente aquello de lo que carece: Alma social y conciencia humanista.
Cada uno de los paises que componen la Union tiene un pasado riquisimo en heroes y villanos, y cada nacionalidad soberana presume, con cierto henchido orgullo, de que los suyos son los mas sabios y los mas sanguinarios; no importa las cualidades que se pongan en tela de juicio. Lo que hay que dejar bien claro, acentuadolo hasta la quinta potencia, es ese MAS ridiculo e inutil que pnsamos nos situa en un lugar privilegiado en la escala de popularidad y prestigio de esta Europa que cada vez me hace dudar mas de su apellido que la nombra Unida.
Si esta Union nacio de un impetu de hermandad y prosperidad, se esta torciendo su rumbo, al pujar sus timones en direcciones opuestas.
La solucion no puede cocerse exclusivamnete en Bruselas. Esa masa burocratica de expertos, no son como los dioses del Olimpo; se equivocan a pesar de que las intenciones sean buenas; a veces nos engagnan piadosamente porque han bebido y conocen que el despotismo ilustrado esta justificado para poner en marcha ciertas politicas. En ocasiones son Maquiavelicos y en otras benignos monarcas que se alardan de ese espiritu democratico inyectado por Monet.
Respaladan su insuficiente transparencia en la publicacion de sus decisiones. Pero, a caso un ciudadano no educado o motivado, bien sea Sueco, Espanol, Polaco o Aleman puede realmente entender las tramas Bruselianas que deciden nuestros destinos entre bamabalinas, dandonos un guion demasiado complejo para que entendamos nuestro papel a desempegnar? Como afrontamos esa ignorancia? como alimentamos en el individuo comun el deseo de construir, de ser parte, de ser sujeto y no mero objeto?

No somos conejillos de indias!!! Somos personas que queremos y tenemos el derecho a disfrtuar de la vida que nos han vendido. No somos idealistas o ilusos por querer y creer en que la abundancia de este lado puede ser compartida.
Somos humanos. No solo estamos para recibir ordenes y pagar las consecuencias de los errores. Pero tampoco etamos aqui exclusivamnete para recoger los frutos. No estamos exentos de responsabilidad, mi intencion no es la de poner la culpa en la cuspide de la piramide.
Si en verdad quermos que le barco avance, requerira esfuerzo y dedicacion. Conllevara alguna que otra alegria en medio de muchas penas. Pero todos estamos a bordo, y de todos depende que llegue a ese puerto que visualizaron nuestros padres. Para ellos, nosotros y los que estan llegando y llegaran.

Que pensemos que la indignacion se extinguira como si fuese una llama predestinada a perecer en los vientos de la adversidad, es aceptar un derrota sin darle a la victora una sola oportunidad.
Valemos mas que eso. Que les quede claro. Que nos quede claro.
Raquel

A weird dream...But is still London.

I woke up today after having the weirdest dream ever.
I need to experiment more with alcohol drinking, because this kind of dreams only happen after several glasses of wine.
Anyway, in my very vivid dream a couple of Indians were declared English Royalty, and what it was weird was that English people seemed to accept it. I mean...Suddenly things were all so different in London. The city looked more like Bombay, and all I was concerned about was Buckingham Palace! Were they gonna turn it into a Taj Mahal thing? What happened with William and Katie? Weren't they gonna fight for their rights? How people could accept as king and Queen someone who did not belong to the Royal family? From one day to the other, everything went "East": Tv, food, dressing codes...
Suddenly I am on a plane towards America. And I am concerned about the amount of hours I have to spend inside there, but I get to meet a business man from Denmark who is complaining about the crisis and does not stop calling his colleagues at the bank to keep an eye on his finances. Somehow I get friends with him and explain him I've got plenty of friends in his country, so he starts calling someone over there to ask if they know those people.
A friend of mine is also there, asking me how I am doing, and three seats ahead of us, a group of Southern Spanish boys that are in their way to NY to keep on working in this toy's shop, throw me a teddy bear, and my friend tells me to stop flirting with them.
Then, another male friend of mine, comes and join us. He's wearing a taggy woman's dress and starts flirting with the Danish guy...So I start to ask him what the fuck is he doing. 5 minutes later they disappear into the bathrooms.

And then,...I think it was something else, but I cannot remember it. I woke up.
Today is Saturday and London still looks like London.
In the news, more or less the same stuff. Well, Nadal made it to the final of the French Tournament, and he'll measure his strenght with Federer. Another unique final between the greatest!!!
I feel weird after having finished my University. After 4 years mentally attached to this duty, to deadlines, articles to fight with, critical thinking merging from the nothingness to never let me go, finding a completely different universe, meeting very interesting people who showed me where my passion really lies...It's weird to wake up today and find out that that process has been partially and officially completed.
Now, instead of writing about strange dreams, I should be applying for a job, looking for a flat or a plane ticket somewhere exotic. I still feel that so many things in my life are waiting for me to do them... I don't want to waste my time, but I don't know where to start from.
I keep on telling myself that after the foreign uni replies, things will be different. And they will. Whatever their answer is.

So by now, I've decided to continue my reading of all the stories that patiently waited for me all this time. I am going to SA with Vargas Llosa and to Kenya with Blixen.
I've decided that I need to focus this energy and keep going, keep moving, as Robb told me yesterday in the same pub where we went for "victory" drinks after our first last exam of the year...Amazing, but time brought us back there 4 years later...And we raised our glasses to cheers for that!!
Not even one of us was the same... We seemed completed, happy, proud and anxious to find us in the next stop of our lives.
I am ready for the ride!

Give me some time

You came back from home with loads of stories. Some of them told so sweetly, I felt like I was there. And only when I opened my eyes, I realised I was eating a semi cold pasta, never properly cooked, in the Tavistock canteen.
England...I got used to many of your habits. I got used to the summer rain, the cold and dark winter, the smell of beer in any street with a nearby pub, the pollen covering the dusty roads and getting in my nostrils, making me sneeze like crazy from late March til the beginning of June. I also got used to your rush showers, the unbearable heat in the metro in the sticky July afternoons, the sour tea without sugar, the sweetness of your lovely strawberries covered in your heavenly honey, the colour of the sky in your beautiful sunsets, removing the batter from the deep fried, almost artificial cod, accompanied with chunky chips....I got used to the silence bells, the noisy sirens of ambulances and police cars, the annoying visitors and their annoying queues and cameras (...). I love your green. It makes me feel at home. You know that.
But I did not get used to this: Learning to miss you. It breaks my heart to think in going back or going there, to a new unknown. You broke my heart from the first moment we met. You made me see home from your soil, attaching me to you, dividing my soul and thoughts, tearing me apart inside while all I was, was happy to be with you.
But you slowly built this dependence clenching to my early naive Independence. I've unconsciously got addicted to you. You are a skillful lover. I told you that many times before, but I never thought that one day I would come to understand my own words.
And yesterday he came telling me about the Spanish siestas, the family gatherings, the Atlantic breeze (..) he called me home with his words, painfully sweet, and I could feel you holding on to me, shaking when you heard me cursing your possession of my routine, of my life. I am sure I did not mean it, but I must say it loud, so i don't get to used to all the things I am not sure if I can't live without.
How do I carry you? Do I put some of your earth in my pockets, and I keep on walking, never looking back, as Allende's character did when she crossed the Andes?
Why can't you come? Don't you see am I tired? Don't you see I need to go?
Home is wherever your heart is...I cannot ask my crazy heart, always looking, never satisfied, but still so romantic. For sure he would tell me the world, though we both know he's lying. We both now there is space for more, even if you two took it almost all.
I keep on dreaming. You still give me that. You are that land I always imagined while sitting by the side of the river. You were indeed across the mountains. SO different, so beautiful, so mine.
And after all, I still wanna keep on searching. After knowing this might be it, but having an obscure certainty that it's not.
So what now? You must give me some time. Since you are immortal, you must have some.

Raquel Calling

I think I didn't make myself clear enough: I do need to take drugs to help me swallow this kind of love.
Have you seen anything like that lately? I wanted to experiment it, because some self declared messiah preached the end was near, and you always have to be a bit sceptical with these kind of things. What if he was right? Damn it!! I didn't even visit Disneyland yet. I always wanted to kick the shit out of that bastard of the yellow bird that made Silvester's life hell's on earth. What a sadic son of the bitch. You cannot be yellow and that bad at the same time...It's unreal!!
when I was little I patiently waited for my neighbour's superpowers to materialise with the coming of the new millennium. He said that, once he got them in 2000, he would be able to take me and my family on a paid holiday to Florida...I should have suspected that that wasn't gonna happen when my mum gave him a coke's can with a mark of her lipstick on it and told him it was Madonnas's. I think he still has it in a constructed altar he made for it at his house. He also called the Natural Preservation Office at the British Museum to find out how to keep the lipstick's trade intact and prevent it from fading.
He never got disappointed when the 1st of January 2000 came, though. He did not have the superpowers. Something in the universe was not properly aligned..Or that was what I had to buy. I guess that, after realising the Universe sucks, I was still expecting some kind of check...But, of course, that didn't happen either.
So, after all, I am still waiting for Disneyland...Birdy...keep on praying. I am gonna get you eventually, and when I do, I'll deep fry you like if you where Nando's material!! And after, I'll spread hot Peri Peri over your dead body and me and Silvester will have a nice dinner.

But yeah...this love...This love...I am not talking about Maroon's 5 song!! She's gone man. Take it. Maybe that plane took her far away....abroad...most probably Benidorm, the paradise for Fish'n Chips eaters under the sun, where she might have found a nice and good looking Spaniard. Not Antonio Banderas alike, but far from the Full Monty's type. So forget about her and do another record. Get over it. By now she must be feeding little bastards. Plus, u don't need a woman by your side who cannot pronounce Guadalajara correctly while eating a huge mazapan. Or maybe she tried and passed. Who knows...

Yeah...this love. It's literally driving me mad because my horoscope does not talk about it, but it does exist. So...What the fuck? I don't know what to do if Aramis does not focus to see you in her crystal ball to give me some kind of practical counsel.
You might have forgotten the international code to dial my number...And I won't dial yours because this bloody credit crunch is not allowing me to. Imagine how bad it is baby!!!: I had to go from pizza to baby spinach salad. Hold on...I think this crisis has improved my eating habits. However, I still have no news form you, and I have to feed my anxiety with fatty Cadbury's, so next time u see me I'll look like Wally.
I'll have to ask Angela Merkel for a personal bail out. Forget about Ireland, Angy. They are all about their Sein Feinn (By ourselves). They are tough and will get over it. The tiger Celtic economy won't need your help.
In Portugal...they are absolutely fine!! Theirs is a faked crisis...Did you bit it? oh...German naivite! They still might have some of the gold they "peacefully borrowed" from Brazil in a Switzerland's account, so don't even think about it. Plus, they always can sell Cristiano, if someone wants to pay for him. The same goes for Spain.... We do not need any one's help to come out of this shit. Come on!! We are the party nation!! We'll organize something fun and charge the rest of Europe a ticket to come in...We'll be bailing out USA in no time!!
Greece...OPA!! Well, with them you have to be careful. They might complain to Zeus and we all know how he is, so I guess you can borrow them some cash. Just in case. With these Greek Gods u never know. What a sense of humour they have...ufff....
But after giving them some Euros I hope you don't forget about me!
I need to get a father for my children and constribute to stopping Europe's aging.And my grandma is asking. She's been doing it for 6 years now..And if you don't want to deal with her personally, you should be a bit generous. Reaaally Angy, she's that bad. Remember Franco? He was a sweetheart in comparison.
Come on! this won't be difficult for you; if you slighlty tax your citizens a 0.01% more I'll have more than enough.
What will you get form the transaction? Well...If I have a girl, I'll call her after you. What a priviledge, uhm? You lucky to have the name of my favourite Stone's song..otherwise...I'd still put my child a name with an "a" on it to honour you...It's something, inn't?!

Baby...hold on.. I'm calling soon!!

Ni mas ni menos

Que me dices de este sueno made in Russell Sq del que me siento despertar? Que me dices de todos esas palabras con las que poniamos en el paredon a todos aquellos que nunca creyeron en nosotros?
No dices nada, y ese silencio inconstructivo no es consciente de cuanto pierdes. Pierdes un mundo que jamas descubriras. Me pierdes a mi para ganar otras orillas a donde la marea te empujara.
Yo sigo aqui, inamovible, fiel a todo lo que quiereo, porque no conozco otra forma de querer. Y el olvido ya no me atormenta.
Me atormentan otras cosas. El no saber como desarrollar las preguntas de mi ultimo examenen, la respuesta de la universidad a cuyo pais quiero mudarme para emprender otra aventura vital e intelectual. Me atormenta la vida que se presenta llena de espectativas por cumplir. Me atromenta la rutina en la que no quiero caer renunciando a todas las cosas que quise aprender; que aun quiero aprender.
Pero sabia que este dia debia de llegar, tarde o temprano. Y una vez mas toca escoger. Y escoger significa renunciar. Y se renuncio y me equivoco, cuanto me llevara rectificar mis errores? Pero si nunca nos equivocamos,,,Como sabemos que estamos en el camino ocrrrecto?
Tantas giros inesperados me han llevado a lugare magicos que no hubiese imaginado; que ni mis sunos mas psicodelicos se hubiesen atrevido a proyectarar.
Y tantas personas y formas de pensar me han saturado, pero nunca cansado. Quizas ha sido bueno encontrarme a tantos "perdidos" en el camino porque me han ensenado que yo no le estoy. Que para lo bueno y lo malo, se lo que quiero.
Me he radicalizado en mi forma de tolerar. Supongo que es algo paradojico eso de redicalizarte en ser tolerante. Pero ya hay cosas que no tengo paciencia para rebatir. Hay palabras que no lo merecen; gestos demasiado vulgares e inconsistentes como para gastar ne ellos cualquier tipo de argumento.
Es mejor que la marea se lleve por otro camino todas las cosas que no queremos retener o no podemos cambiar.
Que mas da si no vuelven? Dejemoslos viajar por el cosmos, que todos encontramos nuestro lugar, o a algien que nos pone en el.
Ahora solo deseo cambiar...transformar en la medida de mis posibilidades aquello que pueda transformar.
Me decia este Irlandes que he conocido hace unos dias que la vida es un proceso.
Puede que los Celtas semaos un mito cultural, que nunca hayamos existido, como afriman algunos historiadores. Sin embargo, hay un lazo que nos une, una enregia innegable que sentimos en el hilo narrativo que da vida a nuestra forma de contar anecdotas ...hay un modo de entendernos instantaneamente, un deambular por nuestro mundo sin fronteras, como si fuesemos Ulises en nuestras Odiseas particulares; hacemos que la nada cotidiana sea la protagonista absoluta de unas vidas de las que solo nosotros somos amos y senores. Y respetamos la libertad por encima de todo, pues es ella el unico dios al que rendimos pleitesia.
Nos reconocemos en las miradas llenas de anecdotas. En el "sin miedo a nada" de unos pies que han recorrido muchos kilometros por mundos exoticos y famliares. Por lugares que algunos no sabiamos que estaban en el mapa. Y a ellos no sacercamos curiosos, con la ingenuidad que solo los autenticos aventurreros poseen.

No quiero ser nadie mas. Ni menos.