Tuesday, March 27, 2007

pai january 2007

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pensamiento

EARTH from ABOVE
Yann Arthus-Bertrand


Casi todas las propuestas de ayuda al desarrollo me parecen insultos a otras culturas y otros modos de vida. No digo que la ayuda en casos de catástrofes naturales, emergencias tales como terremotos o inundaciones sea un insulto, en estos casos, me parece un gesto de compañerismo. Pero aquello que llamamos "ayuda al desarrollo" me parece, sí lo es.

Para empezar me planteo si alguien a preguntado a estas gentes si se quieren desarrrollar, y sobre todo, qué modelo de desarrollo quieren seguir, si se quieren desarrollar como "nosotros, los occidentales". Alguien se ha parado a preguntar y escuchar; a explicar las consecuencias de ese tan deseado desarrollo. Alguien les ha contado, la parte mala, negativa, la letra pequeña, para que en cualquiera de los casos se pudieran tomar decisiones informadas y consecuentes.

Todo aquello fuera de las necesidades primarias imprescindibles para la vida, como potabilización de agua, electricidad (quizás)...me parece se emprende con un gran paternalismo de base. Un mirar por encima del hombro. Un odioso "pobrecitos". Me pregunto qué haríamos nosotros si vinieran un grupo de indios, por ejemplo, a imponer sus modelos de desarollo, ¨civilización¨ a los países occidentales, si los aceptaríamos, sumisos y obedientes, o si nos levantaríamos y les acribillaríamos, exclamando al cielo que es una barbaridad.

don det 21.02.07


Monday, March 26, 2007

picture this

Yesterday morning on my way to the underground I saw:
1) An african guy yelling at people passing by about another guy who was in jail just because the colour of his skin.
2) Another guy peeing in the middle of the street and trying to utter a word that I did not understand at all.
3) A car stopped me. Inside there were two guys with the reddest eyes I´ve seen in a long time. They tried to flirt with me while enquiring about an afterhours....
This was 10:00 am. I was absolutely sober of course. It seems I was the only one...

Saturday, March 24, 2007

madrid multicolor

En un Madrid multicolor y multiétnico vivo. Paso por la mañana por India y Bangladesh para hacerme con el incienso que perfuma mis meditaciones matutinas. Voy a Marruecos al mediodia para tomar un té con dulces. Por la tarde si tengo tiempo me dejo caer por el Africa Subsahariana; con su sonoridad francesa y su colorido y elegancia natural, básica, rotunda, no pretendida ni comprada sino heredada de la tierra roja y caliente.
Me voy de compras a China y encuentro barato y al por mayor de todo, desde linternas a cuadernos, cinturones, artilugios para mi cocina, sobres para enviar mis cartas... Esta China que habla español con accento oriental y sin pronunciar las ¨R¨.
En las oficinas gubernamentales, por fin también ¨Ellos¨, se han dado cuenta de que Madrid es multicolor y los carteles informativos, poco a poco, se van convirtiendo en bilingües, Español y Arabe.

Friday, March 23, 2007

soup


Some places are pleasantly inefficient. You order noodle soup and you
are brought rice.

03-04-2007 luang prabang, lao

¨Do you find the words to describe all this?¨ Lou asked me. I replied that eventually words come to you and you´re able to choose the better ones, to pick up the appropiate ones to picutre what you feel, what you see, what you hear...
These last days I find it more difficult than ever to choose the right words. My mind seems not able to do the right selection to put down in paper what is going on.

a gift for mike


Yesterday I was chatting with Mike and I asked him what he wanted me to send him to Indonesia, as he is still there teaching. Chorizo? A flamenco outfit? Some Spanish music? No! He answered he wanted snow! I don't think it will last all the way...
Picture> Europa Press

Thursday, March 22, 2007

china

Poor Chinese! The fate of this extraordinary civilization saddened me. For literally thousands of years it had followed another path, had confronted life, death, nature and the gods in a way unlike any other. The Chinese had invented their own way of writing, of eating, of making love, of doing their hair; for centuries they had cared for the sick in a different way, looked in a different way at the sky, the mountains, the rivers; they had a different idea of how to build houses and temples, a different view of anatomy, different concepts of the soul, of strength, of wind and water. Today that civilization aspires only to be modern, like the West; it wants to become like that little air-conditioned island that is Singapore; its young people dream only of dressing like ´businessmen´, of queuing up at Macdonald´s, of owning a quartz watch, a colour television and a mobile phone.
Sad, is it not? And not just for the Chinese, but for humanity in general, which loses so much when it loses its differences and becomes all the same. Mao understood that in order to save China it had be closed to the Western influence; it had to seek a Chinese solution to the problems of modernity and development. In posing the problem Mao was truly great. And he was great in being wrong about how to solve it. But always great, Mao: a great poet, great strategist, great intellectual, great murderer. Great like China, great like the tragedy it is now enduring.
If someone is able to look back at the history of humanity a few centuries from now, he will surely see the end of Chinese civilization as a great loss: because with it ended a great alternative, whose existence perhaps have guaranteed the harmony of the world.
Not by chance was it the Chinese who discovered that the essence of everything lies in the equilibrium between opposites, between yin and yang, between sun and moon, light and shadow, male and female, water and fire. It is by harmonizing differences that the world works, reproduces itself, maintains its tension, lives. So in fact there is some reason to regret the end of Communism - not for itself, but as an alternative, a counterweight. Now that it no longer exists there is a great disequilibrium, and even the side that thinks it has won no longer has the tension that stimulated its creativiy.
A fortune-teller told me. Earthbound Travels in the Far East. 1993.
Tiziano Terzani.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

cajon de sastre (14)

In Asia you can kill yourself easier and cheaper than in Europe.

Klaus, a German guy I met in Si Phan Don (the four thousand islands), Southern Lao, talking about the astohishingly cheap prices of tobacco in all South East Asia.

spring is here

It seems Gods have forgotten the calendar and even though, us the humans, are in the spring, They are still in the winter.
The clouds, the winds, the sky... All of them have forgotten that the Spring is here and they ply reminding us that there was no winter in the Northern Hemisphere this year. They are scolding us.
People are surprised. They moan, they weep, they shrug their shoulders...And yet, in their cars they go to work every chilly morning.

Monday, March 19, 2007

work, again

Today I start working again in what has been my professional career since I finished my university degree and that I left parked to go travelling a year and a half ago. I feel like starting a new journey, the same feeling in my stomach, a travel through a country already known and a culture that it is my own. A big challenge. To build every day like an absolute brand new thing. A big challenge, the routine.

Friday, March 16, 2007

jose luis borges (2) instantes


Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida, en la próxima trataría de cometer más errores. No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más. Sería más tonto de lo que he sido, de hecho, tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad, sería menos higiénico, correría más riesgos, haría más viajes, contemplaría más atardeceres, subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos. Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido, comería más helados y menos habas, tendría más problemas reales y menos imaginarios.

Yo fui una de esas personas que vivió sensata y prolíficamente cada minuto de su vida; claro que tuve momentos de alegría. Pero si pudiera volver atrás trataría de tener solamente buenos momentos. Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida, sólo de momentos;no te pierdas el ahora.

Yo era uno de esos que nunca iban a ninguna parte sin termómetro, una bolsa de agua caliente, un paraguas y un paracaídas. Si pudiera volver a vivir, viajaría más liviano. Si pudiera volver a vivir comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios de la primavera y seguiría así hasta concluir el otoño. Daría más vueltas en calesita, contemplaría más amaneceres y jugaría con más niños, si tuviera otra vez la vida por delante.

Pero ya tengo 85 años y sé que me estoy muriendo.



two t-shirts

Volviendo a casa después de un largo viaje y recopilando cosas y cajas de trasteros de familiares y amigos, paso los primeros días de mi regreso.
Abro cajas y descubro artilugios guardados por la que escribe en tiempos pasados con objeto de recordar, decorar, retener, entretener. Con cada caja descubro partes de mi yo antiguo, pasado, olvidado, trocitos de mi historia que parecen no tener ya sentido pero que, sin embargo, me hacen sonreir. Cada nueva maleta saca a la luz ropa que no necesito ni uso hace años. Ropa también olvidada y cuando es olvidada es porque no es necesaria.
Cosas y más cosas para crear una ilusión de seguridad a nuestro alrededor, de hogar, pero sólo es eso, una ilusión.
Yo ya sé que se puede ser feliz con sólo dos camisetas.
*****
Coming back home after a long journey and picking up my stuff from my relatives and friends' storage rooms, my first days here go by.
I open boxes and discover items carefully kept by the writer time ago in order to remember, decorate, retain, entertain. With each box I discover pieces of my ancient I, my past I, forgotten, bits of my history that seem senseless but, nevertheless, they make me smile. Each new suitcase reveals clothes I don't need and I haven't worn for years. Clothes also forgotten and when somegthing is forgotten means it is not needed.
Things and more things to build the illusion of security around us, of a home, bu it's only that, an illusion.
I know now I can be happy with only two T-shirts.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

answers

Travel makes sense only if you come back with an answer in your baggage. Have you found it?[...] Quite the reverse: along the way I have lost even the two or three certainties that I used to think I possessed.

A fortune-teller told me. 1993
Tiziano Terzani


Cuando creíamos que teníamos todas las respuestas
de pronto cambiaron todas las preguntas
M. Benedetti

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

same same but different

People keep on asking me "How is the return?" and I keep on answering "It's ok I am taking it really easy". The truth is that everything seems familiar but very different this time. It is really ok.
It is true that people do not smile at me on the street and do not say hello. It is also true that I can not eat delicious rice dishes with my hands. It is true that buying drinking water and checking if there's water in the toilet to clean myself does not make sense anymore. It is also true that there are many more cars and buses than bicycles and motorbikes.
But even in this part of the world there are good things. It is just matter of point of view being able to appreciate them.

Monday, March 12, 2007

metro underground

El viajero que llega por vez primera a Madrid se encuentra una ciudad soleada y friolera, urgente, con prisas, como que llega tarde a algún sitio. El cielo del Madrid de los últimos días de invierno es de un azul celeste poblado de infinitas nubes blancas. Uno puede pensar cuando se asoma por la ventana para ver qué día hace, que la temperatura exterior es veraniega, de tan claro que el cielo está, pero no ha de dejarse engañar y ha de coger abrigo y bufanda para cada aventura en el exterior.

Una vez sale a la calle poco tarda el viajero en volver a penetrar en recinto cerrado, autobuses, coches, taxis, pero, sobre todo y ante todo, los vagones de tren del metro, sin duda alguna, el medio de transporte más económico y rápido de la ciudad. El metro de Madrid tiene sólo un inconveniente, que es subterráneo y, lo que gana en tiempo, el viajero lo pierde en belleza, pues desde el vagón del metro no se ve el sol.

*****
The traveller who arrives in Madrid for the first time, finds a sunny and cold city, urgent, in a hurry, as if it´s running late for something. The sky of the last winter days in Madrid is sky-blue crowded with infinite white clouds. One could think by looking out of the window that the temperature outside is summery since the sky is so clear, but one must not be fooled and one must take the coat and scarf in every outside adventure.
Once the traveller sets foot on the street it takes not too long to get into another closed place, buses, cars, taxis, but, first and foremost, the underground, the cheapest and fastest means of transport in the city. Madrid´s underground has only one inconvenience, it is underground and what the traveller saves in time, loses in beauty, because from the underground wagons you can not see the Sun.

los molinos del quijote

En esto descubrieron treinta o cuarenta molinos de viento que hay en aquel campo, y así como don Quijote los vio, dijo a su escudero.
-La ventura va guiando nuestras cosas mejor de lo que acertáramos a desear; porque ves allí, amigo Sancho Panza, donde se descubren treinta o pocos más desaforados gigantes, con quien pienso hacer batalla y quitarles a todos las vidas, con cuyos despojos comenzaremos a enriquecer; que ésta es buena guerra, y es gran servicio de Dios quitar tan mala simiente de sobre la faz de la tierra.
-¿Qué gigantes? -dijo Sancho Panza.
-Aquellos que allí ves -respondió su amo- de los brazos largos, que los suelen tener algunos de casi dos leguas.
-Mire vuestra merced -respondió Sancho- que aquellos que allí se parecen no son gigantes, sino molinos de viento, y lo que en ellos parecen brazos son las aspas, que, volteadas del viento, hacen andar la piedra del molino.
-Bien parece -respondió don Quijote- que no estás cursado en esto de las aventuras: ellos son gigantes; y si tienes miedo, quítate de ahí, y ponte en oración en el espacio que yo voy a entrar con ellos en fiera y desigual batalla.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

los sonidos de la ciudad / the sounds of the city

Sirenas de ambulancias lejanas rellenan la soledad de una noche ventosa de marzo, el camion de la basura viene a recoger nuestros desperdicios, cuidadosamente separados y seleccionados para ser reciclados, dicen.
En casa el agua circula rítmica por los radiadores estratégicamente colocados y programados para mantener una temperatura confortable, ni frío ni calor. Alguien ensaya con su oboe en un piso más arriba, ensaya y me transporta a los años veinte del pasado siglo, a clubs de jazz, películas de Woody Allen, New York.
La campana, dong, las siete de la tarde. Alguien llama al ascensor para escalar los escasos 5 pisos del edificio y refugiarse en su casa con una temperatura confortable a ver la televisión. Mañana se levantará con el sonido de un despertador atronador.
*****
Distant ambulance sirens fill up the windy March night, the refuse lorry comes to pick up our rubbish, carefully separated and clasified in order to be recycled, they say.
At home the water runs rhytmic through the strategically placed and programmed radiators to keep a confortable temperature, neither cold nor hot. Somebody rehearsals with their oboe on an upper floor, rehearsals and takes me to the 20's, to jazz clubs, Woody Allen's movies, New York.
The bell, dong, it's seven o'clock. Someone calls the elevator to climb the scant 5 floors of the building and refuge in their home with a confortable temperature to watch television. Tomorrow he'll get up with the sound of a deafening alarm clock.

my new game

De acuerdo, lo admito. Estoy enganchada. Me fascina. Me conecto solo para ver quien se conecta. Me encanta el invento este del mapa para saber desde donde se conecta la gente a mi pequenyo riconcito.
Hong Kong, Camboya, India, mi amada India... Juego a adivinar. A algunos os tengo controlados. Se quien fue el que se conecto desde Ecuador y el que chequea en Australia. Los de Singapur y Tailandia, facil, era yo. China?! USA? Argentina! Me fascina, lo admito.

*****
OK, I admit it. I am hooked. I am fascinated. I connect only to check who is connected. I love the little map to know where from people connect to my humble home.
Hong Kong, Cambodia, India, my loved India... I play, I try to guess. I know some of you. I know who was the one that was connected from Ecuador and the one that checks from Australia. The visits from Singapore and Thailand, easy, it was me. China? USA? Argentina?! I am fascinated, I admit it.