magic

Just when I was beginning to feel pretty fed up with the "touristic approach of Luang Pra Bang", you know what I mean, 10.000 kip to enter this temple (UNESCO declared World Heritage), 20.000 kip to go into the museum, 2.000 kip to pee, 4.000 kip to cross the bamboo bridge, 50.000 kip to breathe......

Just then, magic appeared. Yesterday I was invited to the ceremony for the reincarnation of the deceased parents of a Laotian Lady who has been living in France for the last 30 years. The ceremony was held in a temple and consisted of two magnificent hours of chanting in Pali language. Nine monks plus all the villagers, the lady's neighbours, and I chanted along for almost two hours.

There's something in the Buddhist chants. They trance you, they wrap you up, even that you don't understand what they say, they still put a spell on you. They help to meditate. After the ceremony, we all ate together inside the temple, "this is Laotian culture" I was told.

And this morning, it happened again. After refusing to pay another 10.000 kip to go into a temple and see another Buddha image and bla, bla, bla... I came across a little "handicrafts' work corner", this is the best way I find to describe it. It was basically a small wooden table and two Thai Dam women plus some children making bracelets, the bracelets that they sell afterwards at the Night Market in Luang Pra Bang. These bracelets are made of tree seeds, coloured-crystal balls and pieces of Coca-cola cans.

I sat down at the table with them and after buying one of these pieces of art, I asked them to let me make one. And this was the starting point. They put me their traditional headwear, they took pictures of all of us with my camera and we chatted while making the bracelets for nearly two hours. In that time I managed to make 4 bracelets. In the market these bracelets will suppose a total of 90 cents of a US dollar earnings.

monastery life

The monks leave the brooms at the entrance of the monastery after the morning sweeping.

luang pra bang

Rice cookies drying in the sun. They are everywhere around the city.

french heritage

Les baguettes!

villager

We crossed our ways early in the morning. I was going to visit a cave where villagers hid out during the war from the american bombardments. I asked her if I could take a picture of her and she smiled broadly showing her golden front teeth and agreed.

nong khiew

El aire tiene el inconfundible olor de la lenya quemada, el olor de la montanya. Los lugarenyos de Nong Khiew pasan la mitad del dia entrando en calor y la otra mitad, intentando no perderlo, entre medias, llevan a cabo sus tareas diarias: cortar lenya, cazar...

La pequenya aldea de Nong Khiew esta situada entre el monte de la Princesa Durmiente, Phu Nang Nawn, y el rio Nam Ou, un afluente del Mekong. La vida de la aldea pasa toda por sus aguas. Por la manyana temprano, el rio es carretera flotante que transporta personas y mercancias rio arriba y rio abajo. Por la tarde, en las horas que van del mediodia al atardecer, las horas calientes, el rio se convierte en lugar de recreo para los mas pequenyos y en lugar de aseo para todos. Por la noche, el rio es reflejo de la aldea tranquila. Solo unas luces, las hogueras, los grillos y las ranas.

uxo

Unexploded Ordnance. Between 1964 and 1973 the USA conducted "secretly" one of the largest sustained aerial bombardments in history, flying 580.344 missions over Lao and dropping 3 million tons of bombs (US$ 2.2 million a day). Around 30% of the bombs failed to detonate, leaving the country with unexploded ordnance.

For people all over eastern Lao this is a part of their daily life. Between 1973 and 1996 there were 11.000 UXO accidents and even agriculture has been afected by the people's inability to use the land.

The British Mines Advisory Group began clearance work in 1994. Only a tiny percentage of the ordnance has been removed. At the current rate of clearance it would take more than a 100 hundred years to make the country safe.

*For more info visit the British Mines Advisory Group webpage.

petrol stations

The bus rides in South East Asia, especially in Lao, are a proof of one's patience. They take not only an unpredictable number of hours on the road but also an undetermined number of waiting hours before the bus departs.

One must arrive at the bus station at least one hour and a half before the scheduled departure time. Buses are always packed with people and they sell tickets not only for the number of seats on the bus but also for an undetermined number of places on plastic chairs, placed in the middle alley, and any spare spaces on the floor or on bags and any pieces of luggage. The price for any ticket, no matter where you finally travel, is exactly the same. Therefore you arrive one hour and a half beforehand.

After all the waiting at the station, when one hears the engine start, one thinks the journey is starting but there's one more step to take. The petrol station. No matter where you are or where you come from or where you're heading to, the first stop is always the petrol station. This is usually a few metres away from the bus station what always makes me wonder why they do not bother to go before all the passengers have boarded the bus. My guess is because they use all the money from the passengers' tickets to fill up the tank.

luang nam tha views

This morning I went out on my orange bicycle and these above are some of the things I saw.

On the left it's the pum pao, a game that you can find on every laotian road. You pay around 1.000 kips and you have to throw three darts to the balloons, if you are lucky enough to reach them then you get a prize that is usually some food or drink. This morning I didn't do too bad, I exploded 2 balloons therefore I got a couple of rice cookies. Delicious!

The next image is a picture of the "candies" the kids were having at the fair around a temple. They were crazy about them, every one had one and the lady who was cooking them had the largest queue in the whole fair.

At the bottom a young white water buffalo. The white ones are more bizarre than the black ones.

my bike

The bike I go around on.

on a laotian bus

The long, dusty and winding road from Huay Xay to Luang Nam Tha brings back memories of Burmese bus rides, though the Laotian ones are without music which makes them a little bit less intense.

Clouds of dust flying around the bus swallow us and wrap us up. Red, pink and white colours on both sides of the path. Red, pink and white covering all the shades of green, the green is not green any more.

The lady sitting next to me does not stop spitting out of the window. She does not talk. She does not look at me. She does not smile. She only bends a little to spit out of the window in 15 seconds' intervals and then comes back to the upright position. When she asked me with gestures to swap our seats, I thought it was because she wanted to vomit. No. She only wanted to spit once and again all the way from Huay Xay to Luang Nam Tha. Exactly, 5 hours and a half.

luang nam tha

Anoche dormi en Tailandia. Esta manyana cruce el Mekong y pase a Laos. En cuestion de minutos la realidad cambia a mi alrededor.

A este lado del Mekong, la gente aunque similar es distinta, las fisonomias, recuerdan un poco a las de los chinos. La dureza en las miradas y las pieles denota la dureza de la vida rural en el norte de Laos. La curiosidad de ninyos y mayores en cada parada del polvoriento camino, arremolinandose alrededor de la carraca de autobus que, a cada nuevo bache y cada nueva curva, uno piensa que no aguantara mas y el techo se colapsara encima de nuestras cabezas bajo el peso de tanta maleta amontonada en la parte superior.

A este lado del Mekong, la carretera no es carretera sino camino polvoriento. Aunque freneticamente se afanan en talar los bosques para abrir los claros necesarios y construir la nueva ruta que llevara mas rapidamente de Huay Xay a Luang Nam Tha.

stupa

The Stupa illuminated for the celebration of the Buddha Day. Buddha days are celebrated coinciding with every new moon, first quarter, full moon and last quarter.

temple dragon flies

The day before I left I adknowledge these two beautiful dragon flies. They were sunbathing in front of my room.

10 silent days

Around the Buddha My meditation corner

No talk. No eye contact. No reading, no writing, no listening to music, no drinking, no eating after midday and sleeping 6 hours a day. Only practice, practice and practice the Vipassana technique of meditation for 10 hours each day.

I have improved my concentration and I am calmer. But as my teacher used to repeat to me Practice begins after practice.

locuras tailandesas / thai crazy stuff

Hay tres cosas que vuelven locos a los tailandeses:

1. El aerobic, lo hacen al aire libre en explanadas con un escenario donde se coloca el profesor.

2. Su rey.

3. Comer, cosa que agradezco profundamente, se puede comer de todo a cualquier hora, barato y bueno.

*****

There are three things that make Thais go mad:

1. Aerobics, they practice it in the open air in yards where there's a stage for the instructor.

2. Their King.

3. Eating, which I love, one can eat anything at any time, good and cheap.

globalizada / globalized

Llevo los anillos de plata que compre en Koto Gadang, Sumatra, no mucho tiempo atras. Mi pelo cubierto con la panyoleta de batik que me hice en una sastra de Pekanbaru.

Los pantalones, tailandeses; la blusa, india, una de esas cosas que cada vez que te pones te das cuenta lo buena compra que fue.

En la munyeca derecha el brazalete de coco que compre a un joyero de las islas Andaman a juego con el anillo del dedo del pie, tambien de coco, que me regalo Chris.

La ropa interior comprada en Singapur, aunque hechas en China, reza la etiqueta.

La mochila, espanyola, otro regalo, de Sara.

Me pregunto si esto es otro modo de ser o estar globalizada.

*****

I'm wearing the silver rings I bought in koto Gadang, Sumatra, not long ago. My hair covered with the batik scarf I had made in a taylor's in Pekanbaru.

My pants are thai, the blouse, indian, one of those items you realize how good purchase it was every time you wear it.

In my right wrist the coconut bangle that I bought to a jeweler in the Andaman Islands, matching the coconut toe ring in my foot, a present from Chris.

My underwear bought in Singapore, but made in China, swears the label.

The backpack, Spanish, another present, from Sara.

I wonder if this is another way of being globalized.

breathe deeply, in, out
instants between the instants
live deeply, in, out

morning pai

the queen of the jungle

I guess it's true and I have good luck with the trek guides... Preesha guided me through the forest and garlic fields yesterday. For some hours he treated me like the Queen of the Jungle.

Not only he held my hand and helped me out every time I was about to fall down but he also made a couple of chopsticks and a cup from a bamboo for me to eat and drink. He made a bed with huge banana leaves for me to sleep on and he cooked the most delicious tea inside a bamboo on a fire lit with two bamboo sticks.

Preesha is from the Karen tribe and he has grown up in this area. He knows these mountains like the palm of his strong hands. Yesterday I was his queen, today he'll find a new one.

lisu

Two Lisu women.

your head, your temple

When the owner of the guest house I'm staying at has come up to me saying "Monicaaaa" I knew I had done something wrong. The look in his eyes was like that in my mother's when as a child I had broken something valuable in the house. I was right. Without knowing I was being disrespectul to Thais.

I had my wet underwear hanging on a bamboo stick behind my hut. That is not an ofense, there's nothing wrong in you hanging your underwear on a bamboo stick behind your beautiful, perfect bamboo hut. But if your underwear hangs above somebody's head level, then you are ofending them. In Thai culture it is impolite to hang one's underwear above the level of a person's head, because the head is the "temple" of a person, like in other Buddhist countries, and I guess somebody's underwear is just not good, clean and pure enough as to be hanging above anybody's temple.

trenes son amores / trains are lovers

Viajando en tren desde Lop Buri hasta Chiang Mai y luego en autobus local hasta Pai me he vuelto a reconciliar con Tailandia. La Tailandia sosa y trillada de repente se disipa y logro ver a traves o a pesar de tanto turista parte de la esencia amable y la belleza y amabilidad de sus gentes.

Viajar en tren en Tailandia, como en tantos paises de la zona, tiene algo de otro tiempo, algo de romantico. Y es que los trenes todavia traquetean de verdad, como antes, de lado a lado y de arriba abajo y su sonido recuerda al ritmico sonido de los muelles de una cama maltratada por dos amantes. Quizas sea eso lo que nos haga pensar que viajar en tren es romantico...

*****

Traveling by train from Lop Buri to Chiang Mai and afterwards on a local bus up to Pai, I have reconciled myself with Thailand. Thailand, the insipid, the commonplace, vanishes overnight and I can see through or despite so many tourists some of its kind essence and the beauty of its people.

Traveling by train in Thailand, like in many other countries of the area, has something of the past, something romantic. The trains shake seriously, like before, sideways and up and down and its sound reminds of the rhytmic sound of a bed mistreated by two lovers. Maybe that's what makes us think traveling on a train is romantic...

cajon de sastre 12

¨Yo creo que el cerebro humano se hace el harakiri a los 12 años¨ Javier, filosofo, fotografo, poeta, MAESTRO!, que me encanta porque dice que nunca dice cosas con copyright asi que se las puedo plagiar y escribir aqui.

*****

¨I think the human brain commits hara-kiri at the age of 12¨ Javier, philosopher, photographer, poet, GURU!, whom I really like because he affirms that he never says anything with copyright therefore I can write his words down here.

quien ha colocado estos cables...

lop buri

david filosofia de bar para ti

Es ser prepotente pensar que todos los que te rodean no hacen mas que tonterias?? Este pensamiento no lleva implicito el hecho de que yo piense que no las cometa, las tonterias, sobre todo a la vista del resto de seres humanos que no son YO, es decir, todo el mundo.

Solo aquellas personas a las que quiero y admiro me parece que hacen menos tonterias que el resto o como minimo me da la sensacion que las tonterias que hacen son mas logicas (a mis ojos). Lo cual me lleva a pensar lo siguiente: Esto solo lo pienso porque les quiero y les quiero por que tenemos cosas en comun, por que me gustan, por que me hacen sentir bien, por que compartimos aficiones, por que me hacen reir...es decir, porque veo un reflejo exterior de cosas que me gustan y con las que estoy de acuerdo. Es el amor a los otros simplemente un sentimiento "narcisista"?????

Creo aquello de "Te quiero no por quien eres si no por quien soy cuando estoy contigo". El amor a los otros es solo un reflejo del amor a uno mismo? ...Cuantas mas personas quieres es un reflejo proporcional de cuanto te quieres a ti mismo?

Solo aceptamos aquello que entendemos ...Quiza deberia decir solo acepto aquello que entiendo ...Cual es la base del entendimiento del mundo y de sus contenidos y habitantes? ...El entendimiento de uno mismo primero y con ello el entendimiento de lo similar y/o distinto que hay en los demas... Y el entendimiento de uno mismo esta basado en una mirada carinyosa y/o amorosa a lo que uno es y siente??... Por tanto el entendimiento del mundo pasa por el amor a uno mismo....

frangipanis

i tried to dream last night

My dreams' guru says I don't dream any more and I am terribly worried. Yesterday I was chatting with Mr. Wilson and he misses my dreams. I miss them too, Mr. Wilson! I try and I try but I just seem to dream no longer. Although I have the feeling that I have just waken up from a dream... a sweet, sweet dream...

no fotografiamos las cosas como son

fotografiamos las cosas como somos...


¨Las fotos buenas son las de los instantes entre los instantes¨. Javier, un amigo fotografo.

¨La fotografia tiene que ver con el instante eterno y ese instante es el instante de la muerte¨. Idem.

¨No fotografio nada solo fotografio cosas que tengo en la cabeza¨. Idem.

the dance of minds

Body. Noun. 1 a :The main part of a plant or animal body especially as distinguished from limbs and head : TRUNK

Mind. Noun. 2 a : the element or complex of elements in an individual that feels, perceives, thinks, wills, and especially reasons.

Minds and not bodies are what we feel attracted to. Beautiful minds are trapped in all sorts of different bodies, beautiful bodies, ugly bodies, young bodies, old bodies, men´s bodies, women´s bodies...

Minds are what we fancy not the size of a breast, not the colour of an eye, not the shape of a body... Minds are what turn us on.

Some days ago I met an incredible person who could be my grandfather. This type of meetings always make me think, if these people´s bodies were different, 40 years younger for instance, would my perception of them be different too...?

Do the bodies affect the minds or it´s only the minds which affect the bodies?

walt whitman

Hoy, antes del alba, subi a la colina, mire a los cielos
apretados de luminarias y le dije a mi espiritu: cuando conozcamos
todos esos mundos y el placer y la sabiduria de todas las cosas
que contienen, estaremos tranquilos y satisfechos? y mi espiritu contesto
No! ganaremos esas alturas solo para seguir adelante.

Walt Whitman

soul mates 2

She asked him why people met, he replied that to learn something from each other. In that very moment she knew he would become a special person for her.

The first time they met she needed to tie a slipknot. She asked him to do it, he didn't know how. The look in his eyes, frank, clear, deep blue. By a cosmical coincidence they both had decided to travel to the same islands on the same ship, on the same date.

The next time she saw him he was in a rickshaw in Madras. She spotted him when it passed her by on a sidestreet. He looked different this time, distant. She thought she might had been wrong.

She was excited. It was going to be her first long journey by ship: 3 days, 2 nights. Everybody had told her to take loads of pastimes because in the ocean the hours seemed everlasting. She only had what she always carried along the way: her little black book with her poems in and a book. The English Patient.

She got herself settled in her cabin and went outside to the upper deck. There he was again. "You made it!" She said with a broad smile on her face. They sat down at a table to share a drink.

She can't remember what they talked about. She only remembers that was their first drink together. There would be many more. He made her laugh. It felt warm, close, familiar.

They spent the whole day together going up and down and around the ship. Meeting people, playing cards, laughing.

He had a harmonica. He would play and she would walk at the rhythm of his notes.

She can't remember when she first missed him but it was already on board, probably lying in bed, at night.

He had a chess board and a bucket full of ideas and jokes. He would talk and she would walk with her feet a palm above the ground.

She didn't want to arrive in paradise, her paradise was right there. She could sense the end. She was crying helplessly inside. She wanted to yell at him: "Let's go down together" but she didn't manage to let it out so she stayed on board forever. In her own private paradise.

at the doorstep

the power of random

I left Sumatra a week ago and, during this time, rain has not stopped from pouring down. There have been landslides and floods all over the island.

In the Celebes a commercial plane has crashed. Nearly a hundred people have died.

Now I am in Thailand. There were six bomb blasts on New Year´s Eve in Bangkok and subsequently in other cities.

I am safe and sound although I cannot help thinking that I have been getting away all this time. I guess it´s not my time. Furthermore I say to myself that all the events I´ve been through have helped me out. Many others are not able to say so.

dutchmen

Why do we make the choices we make? Why do we open our guidebook and with our finger choose one place and not another? Why did I book that room in that guest house last week and not any other? Why do people meet?

I just happened to have met the most amazing couple of guys. They're dutchmen. Their age is a well kept mystery but my guess is they're in their seventies. They are the type of people you never grow tired to listen to. The kind of people that has a perfect story for every moment.

"If you can travel and you can dance, you never get old" one of them told me last night.

I think we meet people to learn from them.

minimal stories

I want to thank all those people who I have had the pleasure to meet last year, because they shared their minimal stories with me and those minimal stories are, in fact, very very big for me.

Eduard, back in India. I'd love to share his life philosophy and say things like "Nos vemos a posteriori!". He made me laugh so much.

Maria who is always preparing, thinking, doing, dancing, ....living... she reminds me of that "I don't have time to get depressed... I am too busy at the moment"

Chris and Yotam with whom I lived some amazing adventures on the Andamans.... our private paradise.

Babeth and Jean Paul who taught me a bit of French and many more things on that island...

James and Vere, the two half-Kiwies. One working part-time on the Antarctica, the other one, capturing life with his camera. James taught me to understand your own family better. Vere, Vere, with that name that actually sounds to me like "beer", by observing him i learned so much about me.

Mike and Rany in Sumatera. Two great people. As simple as that.

Jos and Arnold who had the kidness to share some of their wisdom and amazing stories with me and Cris. Some of those stories dated back to the Second World War and who danced and danced with us...

I feel so grateful. I am so lucky.

cambia la estacion

Cambia el tiempo, cambia la estacion... En 5 dias todo a mi alrededor ha cambiado, la lengua, el paisaje, la comida, las normas de comportamiento, el color de las pieles...todo menos yo. Es el unico elemento en comun.

Me siento extranya. Siempre me ha costado un poco adaptarme a los cambios, son como una bofetada, sobre todo cuando son repentinos. Asi que ahora me encuentro respondiendo en Indonesio cada vez que un tailandes me pregunta en tai y comiendo con las manos en un pais donde chuparse los dedos es una groseria monumental pues solo los animales "chupan".

El viaje hasta aqui, duro, largo, agotador, impresionante. Dormir en la estacion a la espera del tren, copas nocturnas con companyeros de viaje en vagones de tren decorados con globos y luces, ninyas malayas burlandose de mi y llamandome "Boy! Boy!", pasarme mi parada (las copas...) ... y tras cuatro dias de buses, trenes y ferries. La playa. El Disneyland de Tailandia.

Ayer era la unica blanca en la ciudad, hoy soy una mas entre tanto turista. Una turista accidentada, mas que accidental.

cajon de sastre (11)

....ando un poco tristona... de ahi el tono de las frases....

"No llores porque termino. Sonrie porque sucedio"

"Incluso cuando estes triste, sonrie. Nunca sabes cuando alguien se puede enamorar de tu sonrisa." Esta es en honor a Pablo. Admirador de sonrisas.

******

...I'm feeling pretty gloomy these days....that's why this type of sentences...

"Don't cry because it ended. Smile because it happened."

"Even when you are sad, smile. You never know when somebody is going to fall in love with your smile." This is a tribute to Pablo, a smile admirer.

on a shoestring

On the road again. On a shoestring this time. Leaving a country where you have spent some time and where you have had a good time it's like leaving a friend. You know you will miss it. You have got accostumed to little gestures, you have learned the language as to go around and make yourself undestood...you have got to know some people and rules.

On the road again. Many things ahead. I'm crossing the Malay Peninsula overland by bus and train. Travelling overland sets my thoughts in motion (and it's cheaper!). It's like meditating. Movement makes me still... Those over there are the Petrona Towers. They don't seem so high from here...

Destiny: The Beach. Hopefully in a couple of days I'll be saying "sawadee-ka" and making a bow to a Thai Inmigration Officer. Only, hopefully, you never know what can happen on your way.

jose luis borges

Es la segunda navidad que una mujer me regala con este maravilloso poema de Borges, la primera fue hace dos anyos en otro momento complicado de mi vida.

APRENDIENDO

Después de un tiempo, uno aprende la sutil diferencia entre sostener una mano y encadenar un alma, y uno aprende que el amor no significa acostarse y una compañía no significa seguridad, y uno empieza a aprender...

Que los besos no son contratos y los regalos no son promesas, y uno empieza a aceptar sus derrotas con la cabeza alta y los ojos abiertos, y uno aprende a construir todos sus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno de mañana es demasiado inseguro para planes... y los futuros tienen una forma de caerse en la mitad.

Y después de un tiempo uno aprende que si es demasiado, hasta el calor del sol quema. Así que uno planta su propio jardín y decora su propia alma, en lugar de esperar a que alguien le traiga flores.
Y uno aprende que realmente puede aguantar, que uno realmente es fuerte, que uno realmente vale, y uno aprende y aprende... y con cada día uno aprende.

Con el tiempo aprendes que estar con alguien porque te ofrece un buen futuro significa que tarde o temprano querrás volver a tu pasado.

Con el tiempo comprendes que sólo quien es capaz de amarte con tus defectos, sin pretender cambiarte, puede brindarte toda la felicidad que deseas.

Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que si estás al lado de esa persona sólo por acompañar tu soledad, irremediablemente acabarás no deseando volver a verla.

Con el tiempo entiendes que los verdaderos amigos son contados, y que el que no lucha por ellos tarde o temprano se verá rodeado de amistades falsas. Con el tiempo aprendes que las palabras dichas en un momento de ira pueden seguir lastimando a quien heriste, durante toda la vida.

Con el tiempo aprendes que disculpar cualquiera lo hace, pero perdonar es sólo de almas grandes.

Con el tiempo comprendes que si has herido a un amigo duramente, muy probablemente la amistad jamás volverá a ser igual.
Con el tiempo te das cuenta que aunque seas feliz con tus amigos, algún día llorarás por aquellos que dejaste ir.

Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que cada experiencia vivida con cada persona es irrepetible.

Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que el que humilla o desprecia a un ser humano, tarde o temprano sufrirá las mismas humillaciones o desprecios multiplicados al cuadrado.

Con el tiempo aprendes a construir todos tus caminos en el hoy, porque el terreno del mañana es demasiado incierto para hacer planes.

Con el tiempo comprendes que apresurar las cosas o forzarlas a que pasen ocasionará que al final no sean como esperabas. Con el tiempo te das cuenta de que en realidad lo mejor no era el futuro, sino el momento que estabas viviendo justo en ese instante.

Con el tiempo verás que aunque seas feliz con los que están a tu lado, añorarás terriblemente a los que ayer estaban contigo y ahora se han marchado.

Con el tiempo aprenderás que intentar perdonar o pedir perdón, decir que amas, decir que extrañas, decir que necesitas, decir que quieres ser amigo, ante una tumba, ya no tiene ningún sentido.

indonesian curiosities (2)

1. Indonesians do not drink coffee from the cup but they pour it onto the dish and they drink it from it. They say it cools it down. (Indians do exactly the same)

2. While driving their motorbikes, Indonesians wear their jackets the other way around, with the zip to the back. When asked why, they reply to protect their skin from the sun... (??)

last indonesian thoughts

Lately I have been thinking about the similarities between Africa and Indonesia. I keep track of Juana, El espacio de juana, a colombian journalist living in Uganda and so I know that the way mothers carry their babies, the crazy traffic, the public transport, the short warm relationships you establish with anonymous people on the street...they're the same. There, she is a mzungu, here, I am a bule.

I have also been thinking about many things I wanted to have done in Indonesia and I haven't been able to. Like going to the Rambutan Forest, visiting Siak, eating roasted corn at the street near Pekanbaru airport at night... And so many places I wanted to visit: Danau Toba, Papua, Lombok...

Now my time is up. I can always come back but I have a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe it's the taste of defeat maybe it's only the chili.

In three months in Indonesia I have lived more things that I could ever imagine, more things than back at home in a full year. Maybe that's why although I got myself busted I feel it has been worth. I feel I have been through important meaningful experiences that can only help me in my future.

"Last year I traveled 40.000 kilometers maybe that's why I feel inmortal"

Graham Greene.

cajon de sastre (10)

"Que tendran los asiaticos con las cervezas que siempre les ponen nombres de animales?" Cristina haciendo recuento de cervezas por el sudeste asiatico....

el efecto mariposa

Estos dias de locura, torbellinos y tormentas iracundas han sido los dias mas complicados que recuerdo en tiempo. Todo empezo con un pequenyo mosquito. No se para el resto de gente pero para mi todo es una concatenacion de hechos, como la teoria del efecto mariposa. El movimiento de las alas de una mariposa en Japon puede causar un terremoto en Chile, pues mi mariposa movio y movio sus alas, rompio crisalidas y causo un terremoto a mi alrededor.

Un mosquito me pico para alimentar a sus crias y me trasmitio el dengue. El dengue me postro en cama durante dos semanas y me desplumo (y yo a su vez a un amigo y un amiga). La descolosal factura medica provoco la primera de mis discusiones con mi jefe. La primera trajo la segunda y la segunda inevitablemente la tercera. Las discusiones conllevaron mi desilusion, tristeza, mi decepcion y mi rabia. Y todo esto conllevo una gran pelea sobre mi imposibilidad de ir de vacaciones donde yo quisiera. La retencion de mi pasaporte, mi pataleta. Mi pataleta, el despido. El despido, mas discusiones. Las discusiones, negociaciones. Las negociaciones, nada: Yo teniendo que agachar las orejas y pagar un dinero que personalmente creo que no deberia pagar.

Como me dijo un amigo indonesio "This is Indonesia, Madam!" me lo decia por el modo de conducir, pero creo que la frase encierra mucha sabiduria y mucho contenido en tan simple estructura.

Esto es Indonesia. Las reglas del juego cambian, los valores de la gente cambian, las expectativas cambian, el error es no cambiar tu, para conseguir fluir con tu entorno y adaptarte al medio.

no money, no honey

The day it all started started like any other day. A simple gesture, it's ok my colleague at work said. And like that my passport flew out of my hands. It hasn't come back yet.

Now I'm here in the middle of nowhere, going nowhere, stuck with no passport. My embassy says he's a very polite gentleman. There's nothing better in life than being able to lie.

I'll have to learn some day...

We live alone, dream alone and die alone.

it's just mathematics

In India a friend taught me the theory of the Fibonacci Numbers which appear in most of the shapes in Nature. The Fibonacci series is 0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21...Each number being the sum of the previous two ones. This series defines the structure of a spiral. The spiral is a constant shape in Nature.

Waves are spirals, the pattern leaves draw around the branches of a tree is a spiral, the shape of seashells is a spiral...

A spiral, a continuum, a never-ending three-dimensional curve... We, humans, can not get away from the laws of Mother Nature. We also draw spirals we are forever going through the same patterns in life. It's our nature, it's mathematics.

"Please come with me and detract me from my proud solitude.

I beg yee, rescue me from this prison of arrogance.

Odd, you came all this way just to hate yourself.

Tell me, old friend, why you think it is that your life, everything you do,

with all its creative potential, is regularly marred with self doubt,

self loathing and ruthless self abesement?"

Chris Harper

cuentacuentos / storytellers

No recuerdo si de pequenya me gustaba que me contaran cuentos. No tengo demasiadas memorias de mi ninyez. Ni siquiera recuerdo si mi madre se sentaba al borde de mi cama por la noche con un libro y me leia suavemente hasta que me durmiera. Pero recuerdo historias que mi hermana mayor me contaba mientras se maquillaba antes de salir de casa y yo, miraba embelesada su rostro multicolor reflejado en el espejo.

No recuerdo cual fue el primer libro que lei, pero recuerdo historias que me han impactado, que me han hecho pensar, que me han tocado por dentro, que me han hecho sentir. Recuerdo el primer libro con el que senti miedo. El primero que me hizo llorar. Unos cuantos que me han dado deseos de que nunca se terminaran. Uno que leo y releo y cada nueva vez me entusiasma aunque se exactamente lo que sucede en cada pagina.

Me entusiasman las historias. Me gustan las canciones cuando cuentan historias que me conmueven, me arrebatan los libros con magicas tramas, me enamoran las peliculas y me enamoran los cuentacuentos. Todos tenemos historias que contar. Todos contamos cuentos, nuestros cuentos.

*****

I don't remember if as a child I used to like being read story books. I haven't got too many memories from that time. I don't even remember if at night my mother used to sit with a book at the edge of my bed and used to read softly until I fell asleep. But I remember stories my eldest sister would tell me while she would be putting her make-up on to go out and I would be gazing at her multicolor reflection in the mirror, fascinated.

I don't remember which was the first book I read, but I remember stories that have stunned me, that have had me think, that have touched me inside, that have made me feel. I remember the first book with which I felt scared. The first one that made me cry. Some ones that have made me wish they would never end. And one that I read and re-read and each time it delights me even though I exactly know what happens on every page.

Stories fill me with enthusiasm. I like songs when they tell stories that move me, books with magical plots captivate me, I love movies and I love storytellers. All of us have stories to tell. All of us tell stories, our stories.

cajon de sastre (9)

"Solo tu decides que hacer con el tiempo que se te ha dado" Gandalf dirigiendose a Frodo. El senyor de los anillos. J.R.R. Tolkien

"Only you decide what to do with the time that has been given to you" Gandalf talking to Frodo. Lord of the Rings. J.R.R. Tolkien

"No hay nada peor que depositar toda tu confianza en alguien a quien quieres" (servidora)

"There's nothing worse than depositing all your trust in someone you love" (myself)

"Es duro vivir con miedo, verdad? En eso consiste ser un esclavo" Blade Runner. Ridley Scott.

"Painful to live in fear, isn't it? That means being an slave" Blade Runner, Ridley Scott.

"Si no te quieres quemar los pies, quedate en casa" Inscripcion en un cartel a la entrada de un templo budista birmano, donde todo el mundo se tiene que descalzar antes de entrar.

"If you don't want to burn your feet, stay at home" Inscription at the entrance of a Burmese Buddhist temple where everyone has to take off their shoes before entering.

at the corner

I live in an area packed with primary and high schools so there are all sort of street vendors. This is my favourite one. He always greets me with a broad smile on his face and a slight bow.

I do the same.

fingerprints

The school I work for has arranged a Long Stay Permit for me since I'm supposed to be working here for a year. This type of permit allows you to live and work in Indonesia up to 12 months. This kind of permit also means an astonishing amount of paperwork and money. Indonesian bureaucracy is slow as a turtle and extremely unintelligible.

This morning I have been to the Police Station for the third time in two weeks, they wanted my fingerprints again. Do they think they change from time to time? Two funny things always happen when you have your fingers stained with ink: first, there's never water to clean yourself and second, after you have managed to wipe the ink off with a borrowed tissue, the officer always comes back with a frown on his face and a magnifying glass in his hand and haves you repeat the procedure because there's something wrong.

Not only want they your fingerprints but also your weight, your height, the colour of your eyes, the number of teeth (they check them as if you were a horse) and many other things. I keep thinking if it weren't easier to just take a picture of me and ask for a medical check-up. Do they think I'm going to starve myself in order to look different and get away without paying them? (The Long Stay Permit obliges you to pay a million rupees every time you exit the country)

soul mates

It was early morning in the guest house. She needed to tie her new necklace. She had been looking for somebody to help her tie a slipknot but could find no one. She asked him. He looked puzzled and sleepy, holding a plate of scrambled eggs in one hand and a fork in the other. He said that he was unable to do it although he gave her another option. She frowned and shrugged as if to admit her defeat, she wanted a slipknot for her new necklace.

driving illness away

Asian countries have an astonishing history of massage, each in a different way has its own tradition with variations from one to another but the same common essence: massage heals, massage balances the body energy and prevents disease from settling in.

Indonesian massage is more painful than Thai massage which basically consists of body stretches (yoga-like) and gentle pressure points. In Indonesian massage there are no body stretches and the pressure along the body energy lines is deeper. The course of every muscle is pushed along with deep thumbing. One would think that a tiny Indonesian masseuse is not able to practice such a powerful massage but they are!

Indonesian massage has a history dating back 4.000 years and has strong connections with Ayurvedic massage although it follows the courses of the Chinese energy meridians. And the most important of al it rebalances body and soul.

fumando / smoking

alive

Take a moment from time to time to remember that you are alive. By the most astounding stroke of luck an infinitesimal portion of all matter in the universe came together to create you and for the tiniest moment in the great span of eternity you have the incomparable privilege to exist.

For endless eons there was no you. Before you know it, you will cease to be again. And in between you have this wonderful opportunity to see and feel and think and do. Whatever else you do with your life, nothing will remotely compare with the incredible accomplishment of having managed to get yourself born. Congratulations. You really are special.

But not that special. There are five billion other people on this planet, everyone of them just as important, just as central to the great scheme of things, as you are. Don't ever make the horrible mistake of thinking yourself more vital and significant than anyone else. Nearly all the people you encounter in life merit your consideration.

Don't ever do anything on principle alone. If you haven't got a better reason for doing something other the principle of the thing, then don't do it.

Don't make the extremely foolish mistake of thinking that winning is everything... Taking part is the main thing. Doing your best is the main thing. There is no shame in not winning. The shame is in not trying to win.

Above all be gracious in defeat.

travel tips

Tras la mala experiencia de sufrir el dengue lejos de casa y sola me he lanzado a escribir unos sencillos consejos de viaje para todos aquellos que se lancen a la aventura de los tropicos, se que no se podran comparar con los valiosos consejos de la Paranoid Planet, pero son mis humildes travel tips:

1) Nunca salgas de viaje solo con 3 bragas aunque en principio pienses que vas a estar fuera 2 noches. Todo puede alargarse y es un bochorno estar en un hospital con una bata de esas que te dejan el culo al aire y sin bragas limpias que ponerte!

2) Nunca, nunca olvides tu tarjeta de credito! Una mujer nunca sabe que inesperados pagos va a tener que realizar, que si un caprichito en forma de ropa interior, que si 4000 euros de gastos medicos... lo normal en cualquier paseillo.

3) Nunca nunca nunca viajes sin seguro medico. El seguro de todo un anyo te cuesta lo mismo que unos Rayos X en el Mount Elizabeth Hospital, Singapore. Haz numeros.

4) Ah! Y el mas importante, para viajar por la vida en general, TEN BUENOS AMIGOS que te apoyen en momentos complicados y que te hagan sentir que en el fondo todo en esta vida es una gran broma.

*****

After the bitter experience of having suffered Dengue Fever alone and faraway from home, I have decided to write a few simple pieces of advice for those who would like to venture into the tropics, I know they would not be comparable with those in the Paranoid Planet, but they are my humble travel tips:

1) Never travel only with 3 knickers although you think you will only be away for two nights. Everything can change and it's really embarrasing to be in hospital wearing one of those gowns with the slit at the back and no clean underwear to put on!

2) Never forget to bring your credit card with you. You never know what you might have to pay a whim in the form of underwear, a medical bill of 4.000 euros.... the normal stuff in a journey.

3) Never, ever, travel without travel insurance. One whole year insurance costs the same that an X Ray in Mount Elizabeth Hospital, Singapore. Just look at the figures.

4) And the most important to travel around in this life HAVE GOOD FRIENDS that support you in difficult moments and make you feel that everything in life is a big joke.

sea for smile

He asked her where she had been,
she said that she had swam to the moon.

Sea for Serenity

Chris Harper.

cajon de sastre (8)

"Preferia cuando estaba gorda y era feliz" Olga repitiendome una frase que dijo a alguien que alababa su absoluta delgadez de momentos pasados.

....me acorde de esta de repente, se me habia olvidado lo bonita y profunda que me parecio en aquel momento...

rattling sea haiku

sea breeze takes me home
a sweet dream and a passport
the smell of wet earth

Si dejo elegir a mis pies

me llevan camino del mar

Jorge Drexler

en el laberinto / inside the maze

En estos dias dificiles de negociaciones desagradables sobre temas desagradables que me gustaria no tener que sufrir, regresan a mi sentimientos que hace tiempo me habian dejado, ideas sobre una misma, sobre lo que una cree que es justo, sobre mi bien y mi mal, mi justicia, mis valores, mis principios... mis finales.

Y la cabeza se me llena de nuevo de ideas, de argumentos, de palabras no dichas pero pensadas millones de veces, palabras que me retumban en la cabeza, palabras que se pelean unas con otras y conmigo, que me rebotan y me explotan delante de las narices, palabras que duelen, palabras que me hieren mas a mi que a los otros.

El conocimiento no hace el camino mas facil, solo alumbra un poco de luz dentro del laberinto en que a veces me siento en estos menesteres.

*****

During these difficult days of unpleasant negotiations on unpleasant matters which I'd rather not go through, long ago forgotten feelings come back to me again, ideas about myself, about what I believe to be just, about my good and my evil, my justice, my values, my principles...my endings.

And my head fills up with ideas, arguments, non-spoken but a million times thought words, words that resound in my head, words that fight with each other and with me, that bounce and explode right under my very nose, words that hurt, words that wound me more than they wound anybody else.

The knowledge doesn't make our paths easier although it slightly illuminates the maze where I feel in these chores.

Do not rely on the individuals, rely on the teachings.
Do not rely on the words, rely on the meaning.
Do not rely on the adapted meaning, rely on the ultimate meaning.
Do not rely on intellectual Knowledge, rely on wisdom.

los gilipollas son universales o cajon de sastre (7)

hoy el cajon de sastre va sobre lo que una sabe o cree saber, que es poco y lo que una siente que siempre, siempre es mucho, demasiado quizas.... ir con el corazon en la proa es lo que tiene...

"La sabiduria tiene limites, la ignorancia no"

"Siempre me resulta estimulante encontrar nuevos ejemplos de mis prejuicios, darme cuenta de mi propia estupidez, de que no se ni la mitad de lo que creo saber..." Paul Auster.

"Las revoluciones mas contundentes son las que no hacen ruido" Dani, tratando de calmar a la fiera que llevo dentro, despues de una gran discusion con mi jefe por tema de dinero.

"Los gilipollas son universales" Monica hablando de mi actual jefe.

*****

Today this section is about what one knows or thinks that knows, which is not too much and about what one feels that it's always, always a lot, maybe too much... going round with your heart on the bow of your ship...it's what it takes...

"Wisdom has limits, ignorance doesn't"

"It always stimulates me to discover new examples of my own prejudice and stupidity, to realize that I don't know half as much as I think I do" Paul Auster.

"The most convincing revolutions are the silent ones" Dani, trying to cool me down after a big fight over money with my current boss.

"The wankers are universal" Monica talking about her current boss.

las ciudades continuas / the continuous cities

Si al tocar tierra en Trude no hubiese leido el nombre de la ciudad escrito en grandes letras, habria creido llegar al mismo aeropuerto del que partiera. Los suburbios que tuve que atravesar no eran diferentes de aquellos otros, con las mismas casas amarillentas y verdosas. Siguiendo las mismas flechas bordeaban los mismos jardines, las mismas plazas...

Italo Calvino, Las ciudades invisibles.

******

If when I touched land in Trude I hadn't read the name of the city written in big letters, I would have thought I had reached the same airport I had departed from. The slums I had to go through were not different from those other ones, with the same yellowish and greenish houses. Following the same arrows bordered the same gardens, the same squares...

rompehuesos

Postrada en una cama en un hospital de un pais extranyo por una semana. La vida da muchas vueltas sin duda. Cuando el martes pasado empece a sentir esa fiebre abrasadora pense que era gripe. Por que cada vez que tengo algo medianamente grave mi cabeza automaticamente lo clasifica como gripe? Paracetamol y arreando me dije a mi misma.

Tras una noche en blanco de duchas y compresas frias me arrastre como pude hasta el medico mas cercano y menos mal que estaba realmente cerca, no creo que hubiese llegado mucho mas lejos de lo que llegue sin desplomarme. Tras descartar la gripe aviar (gracias ala!, Vishnu y Buda) y sobrellevar el momento sin que me diera un ataque al corazon, el medico diagnostico una nueva infeccion de orina, esta vez que llegaba a los rinyones. Antibioticos y para el hotel.

Pero algo no iba bien. La fiebre no bajaba. Yo en vez de mejor cada minuto me encontraba peor y ante la posibilidad de pasar otra noche terrorifica en la habitacion de hotel con compresas heladas y viajes a la ducha decidi caminar como pude hasta el hospital mas cercano en busca del bendito cartel "Emergency".

Tras las mil y una pruebas al final lo descubrieron. Dengue: El rompehuesos. La enfermedad hace honor a su sobrenombre, lo admito. Poco a poco vuelvo a revivir. La fiebre me ha abandonado por todo un dia y vuelvo a tener apetito. Me siento poco a poco mejor.

singapore

If I'm born a man in my next life I want to be born in Singapore... All these beautiful women with amazingly perfect skins wearing these short skirts and shorts and those skimpy top tanks... Actually If in my next life I'm born a woman I'd also like to be born in Singapore. Singapore combines the eficiency of some western countries with the stillness and the warmth of the asian countries.

Coming from Indonesia everything seems more magnificent and ultra modern. Big leds screens on the streets, tampons on the shelves of the supermarkets, women showing hair, neck, shoulders, beautiful long legs... I feel like it's impossible that these two worlds, and many more, are able to co-exist but they are.

las ciudades y los ojos / the cities and the eyes

[...] Los habitantes de Valdrada saben que todos sus actos son a la vez ese acto y su imagen especular, que posee la especial dignidad de las imagenes, y esta conciencia les impide abandonarse ni un solo instante al azar y al olvido. Cuando los amantes mudan de posicion los cuerpos desnudos piel contra piel buscando como ponerse para sacar mas placer el uno del otro [...], incluso entonces no es tanto el acoplarse [...] lo que importa como el acoplarse de las imagenes limpidas y frias en el espejo.

El espejo acrecenta unas veces el valor de las cosas, otras lo niega. No todo lo que parece valer fuera del espejo resiste cuando se refleja [...]

Las dos Valdradas viven la una para la otra, mirandose constantemente a los ojos, pero no se aman.

Italo Calvino, Las ciudades invisibles.

******

[...] The inhabitants of Valdrada are aware that all their deeds are those deeds and, at the same time, their specular reflection, which possesses the especial dignity of images, and this awareness prevents them from abandoning themselves at random or oblivion for a single moment. When lovers change the position of their naked bodies skin against skin seeking for a new posture in order to enjoy more from each other [...] even then it's not the coupling itself what matters but the coupling to limpid and cold images in the mirror.

Sometimes the mirror increases the value of things, other times it denies it. Not everything that seems worthy outside the mirror resists when it's reflected [...]

The two Valdradas live one for the other, looking each other constantly right in the eyes, but they are not in love.

Italo Calvino, The invisible cities.

rainy season

Gloomy sunny me
sweet and sour now and then
once more Sun and Rain

el imperio de los sentidos / the empire of the senses

Mi vida transcurre al compas de mis sentidos, todo a mi alrededor, mas que nunca, baila al son de mis percepciones...

Aquella bocina que suena a lo lejos es el vendedor de fruta fresca. Pinya, sandia, papaya, mango y mil frutas tropicales cuyos nombres soy incapaz de recordar ni repetir.

La cancioncita del vendedor de helados (juraria que esta sincronizada con los pedales de su bicicleta) que siempre pasa a la misma hora: con el canto que llega desde los minaretes al mediodia desde todos los rincones de la ciudad, como reverberado, canto que se repite mas tarde, justo antes de comenzar mis clases, a las tres, y con la caida del sol, a las seis. Ya no uso reloj.

El sonido de un coco golpeando una madera anuncia a lo lejos leche de coco y dulces.

El olor que percibo es el de la fabrica de caucho, dulzon y amargo a la vez, mezclado con el de las buganvillas y los framboyanes en flor.

Y veo miles de coches, motos y bicicletas a los que sortear con agilidad y rapidez para no ser arrollada cada dia de camino a la escuela, en mi fragil y destartalada bicicleta. Deporte de riesgo. Cualquier norma de trafico, antes venerada y practicada con asiduidad, cae en el olvido cuando cada dia me monto en mi bici para ir a trabajar. El sentido comun no funciona en las carreteras y calles indonesias, las tres normas basicas de funcionamiento son:

1) El primero que llega es el primero que pasa.

2) Si soy mas grande tengo prioridad.

3) Yo no paro nunca, los demas ya me veran.

Todo esto aderezado con unos cuantos potentes golpes de claxon.

Y toco y pruebo cada dia manjares deliciosos.

Comiendo con las manos todo sabe mejor.

******

My life goes by at the rhythm of my senses, everything around me, more than ever, dances at the sound of my perceptions...

That horn that sounds far away is the fresh fruit vendor. Pineapple, watermelon, papaya, mangos and thousands of tropical fruits whose names I'm unable to recall.

The ice cream seller's tune (which I'd swear it is synchronized to the rhythm of his pedals) that always passes by at the same time: with the chant that arrives from the mosques at noon from all the corners of the city, reverbed, chant that is repeated later, just before I start my classes, at three and at dusk. I don't wear a watch any more.

The sound of a coconut drumming a wood foretells coconut milk and sweets.

The smell I perceive comes from the rubber factory, sweet and sour, mixed with the one from the bougainvilleaes and bloomed framboyans.

And I see thousands of cars, motorbikes and bycicles to which I have to get round with agility and rapidity in order to avoid being run over on my way to school every day, on my fragile ramshackle bike. Any traffic regulation way back followed and worshipped is forgotten when I go on my bicycle every day. Common sense does not work in the Indonesian streets and roads, the three main rules are:

1) The first one is the first to go.

2) If I'm bigger i have priority.

3) I don't stop ever, every one else will do.

And I touch and eat the most delicious foods every day. Eating with your hands everything tastes better.

cajon de sastre (6)

Tras muchas vueltas en la cama pensando que frases publicar (los amigos me han empezado a mandar cosas que leen, que se les ocurren, que escriben...) los seleccionados esta semana para la famosa, trepidante, interesante y fulminante seccion de cajon de sastre son:

"Cuando atrapas la belleza esta desaparece" (yo que para eso decido) / "When you trap the beauty, it disappears" (myself)

"Dark eye attraction
bodes the wreckages of friendships
Sweet clouds fog my thoughts"

Chris Harper. (thanks... it's beautiful)

"Follar con un ex es necrofilia" / "Having sex with an ex is necrophilia"

daily ritual

These days the Sun and the Rain fancy playing Hide and Seek...

In the morning it's the Rain's turn to hide and we, mortal souls, go out on the streets without noticing that the mighty game is on.

All morning long clouds grow larger and darker. These clouds forcast rain, our cherished rain. Rain that heals, Rain that refreshes, Rain that gives us a break...

In the afternoon, the Sun has to hide. For some hours, everything seems to come to an end. Life stops. Thunders and lightings. Everyone hides wherever they can, underneath a tree, at the corner's magazine shop... No one wants to be caught.

After a while the Sun rises again as if nothing happened. Today's game is over.

mil maneras de no hacer una bombilla o cajon de sastre (5)

Thomas Edison antes de lograr inventar la bombilla llevo a cabo 1.000 intentos. 1000 intentos, nada mas y nada menos. Cuando un periodista le pregunto que como se sentia despues de haber fracasado 1.000 veces el, confiado, contesto "Se equivoca usted profundamente, no he fracasado 1.000 veces, ahora conozco mil maneras diferentes de no hacer una bombilla".

********

Before being able to invent the bulb Thomas Edison had to try a 1.000 times. 1.000 times, nothing more nor less. When a journalist asked him how he felt after having failed 1.000 times, he answered self-confident "You are deeply wrong, I haven't failed a thousand times, now I know a thousand different ways not to make a bulb"

in the middle of the rice paddie

Rice fields and more Rice fields.

flies

The wild life I have seen in Sumatera sumps up snakes, montior lizards, massive rats and all sorts of bugs...

...and beautiful butterflies and dragonflies...

sumatera

los calores de los tropicos / tropical swelter

En dos meses en el tropico he sufrido ya dos infecciones: una infeccion de orina y una infeccion en un ojo (un comun, pero no por ello no tremendamente doloroso, orzuelo).

Esto se ha traducido en dos visitas al hospital en un periodo no superior a los 15 dias. La primera vez que fui a visitar al doctor y me preguntaron mi religion a la hora de registrame no le di mayor importancia, aunque mi cabecita no alcanzaba a comprender que tiene que ver a quien rezo por las noches con una infeccion en las vias urinarias.

La respuesta llego mas tarde en casa, como siempre, donde casi todas mis dudas cultural-religioso-sociales se aclaran con Rany o con alguno de mis companyeros. Dependiendo de tu religion recibes un trato u otro, asi de simple, asi de crudo. La persona que, en esta ocasion, me resolvia la duda era una cristiana protestante. En su opinion, si eres cristiano o catolico recibes un peor trato en los hospitales.

El trato en mi caso fue exquisito tanto en la primera como en la segunda visita pero no puedo dejar de pensar si realmente algun doctor trataria de manera distinta a un paciente solo porque esa persona no comparta sus creencias. Luego se escandalizan cuando yo respondo que no creo en Dios que solo creo en la bondad o maldad de las personas...

*En Indonesia es obligatorio profesar alguna de las siguientes religiones: Islam, Cristianismo, Budismo, Hinduismo o Catolicismo. Ser judio esta prohibido.

*****

In two months in the tropics I have already suffered two infections: one urine infection and one eye infection (a common but not for that reason less painful stye).

This has meant two visits to the hospital in less than 15 days. The first time I went to the doctor's and I was inquired about my religion I didn't pay too much attention although my little head couldn't reach to understand what worshipping a God has to do with a uninary tracks infection.

The answer arrived later, at home, as usual, where almost all my cultural-religious-social doubts are solved by Rany or any other of my flatmates. Depending on your religion you're treated one way or another, so easy, so blunt. The person who, in this occasion, was dissolving my doubt was a Protestant. According to her, if you are a Protestant or a Catholic you get a worse treat in hospitals.

In my case, the treat was exquisite both in my first and second visit but I can not stop thinking whether any doctor would treat a patient in a different way just because they don't share their believes. And they're shocked when I always reply to everybody that I don't believe in God!!! That I only believe in good and evil people!!!!

*In Indonesia people are obliged to profess a religion either Christianity, Islam, Catholicism, Buddhism or Hiduism. Being a Jew is forbidden.

por navidad quiero / for christmas i want

Para Navidad quiero:
*10 cajas de tampones.
*3 paquetes de hilo dental.

....aqui es imposible encontrarlos.....
;-)

*******

For Xmas I want:

*10 boxes of tampons.

*3 units of dental floss.

...here they're impossible to find...

;-)

mike

los problemas del mundo

La semana pasada comenzamos un proyecto en clase. El proyecto consistia en un gran collage hecho con fotografias recortadas de revistas acerca de los problemas que los estudiantes consideraban tiene el mundo actual, el mundo del efecto invernadero, las guerras, la pobreza, las desigualdades..... Despues tenian que exponerlo en clase.

Guerra, incomprension, hambrunas.... No! Uno de los grandes problemas del mundo, a los ojos de estos quinceanyeros indonesios de buena familia (con mayoria de budistas entre ellos), es el SEXO. El sexo! Cual es el problema? No tenerlo? Tener demasiado?

La cosa no quedo ahi.... Tambien les pedi que plantearan soluciones a esos problemas.... Y su solucion es REZAR! La solucion al sexo es rezar.... me pregunto si en epocas en que no follo mucho, deberia arrodillarme, postrarme humildemente ante Ala, Vishnu, Buda o la Virgen Maria e increpar "Quiero un maromo ! Quiero un maromo! Apiadate de mi!"

Indonesia es una sociedad muy conservadora, al menos la Indonesia que yo estoy viviendo, con mayoria aplastante de musulmanes. A pesar de ello, no pude resistirlo y les explique lo que es un condon, que no necesariamente te tienes que casar para tener sexo, que por un beso no te contagias de SIDA.... y que no creo en Dios, ni en Ala,.....

Asi que cuando Sara, una amiga, me pregunta si quiero poner Sexo en Nueva York en clase para que los chavales lo vean ..... yo pienso que a lo mejor deberia.....

mr. wilson: I need your help

I was in a humble wooden hut. In the middle of the forest. The skimpy furniture consisted of a cotton hammock hanging from the ceiling.
I was there in the centre of the room staring out my window....to the orangutans. They were old and tired. They had eyes wide open. They looked sad.