Me iba a dormir, pero este pensamiento no me dejó cerrar los ojos...
La información. Incluso lo que uno no quiere saber, ni lo que a uno le interesa, ahí está y sólo es cosa de mirar.
El mirar, ver, leer, buscar. Sólo eso es suficiente para saberlo todo, para saber que somos iguales. Igual de imbéciles, obsesivos, apasionados tal vez, babosos quizás.
Y pienso lo que pienso, sólo a nivel de opinión a mí misma, porque qué me importa y es menos importante para el resto que me entere cosas que no me importan, eso importa mucho menos. Y así una cadena de información que a pocos le importa.
Me pregunto cuál es mi identidad en la nube. Sí es posible percibirme como soy, o son sólo fragmentos de un simulacro de mí misma. Bueno, diría yo, no hay nada como la verdad. En la materialidad, en un contexto concreto. El cronotopo es necesario.
Y uno se entera de tantas cosas. Y cosas que uno quiere y no quiere saber. Y luego viene una náusea existencialista. Una nada absoluta luego, porque no importa. Lo único es que no puedo dejar de pensar en lo macabro que es... ¿qué es lo que vamos dejando a nuestro rastro?
Querría decir tantas cosas, pero amordazo mis dedos de tipear. Esto es suficiente por ahora. A nivel superficial.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Saturday, April 13, 2013
De por qué me hice una cuenta en Flickr
Si uno resume su propio comportamiento en internet, es increíble la cantidad de sitios en los que hemos dejado parte de nosotros, ya sea una opinión, una queja, una felicitación, and what have you. Recuerdo los tiernos tiempos del MSN, cuando lo usaba para hacer tareas del colegio, o para agregar desconocidos de algún chat de por ahí, o usar IRC para compartir archivos, etc. Después apareció esta cosa del Facebook y se fue todo a la mierda. Es tan acusete cara de cuete. Y uno se pone medio psycho. Pero por otro lado te conecta con gente que conociste en viajes, o amigos de antaño (claro que hablamos dos veces y después nunca más).
Me imagino cuántas veces la gente se ha encontrado con viejos compañeros del colegio, se han juntado masivamente y el evento termina en orgía, o una sarta de infidelidades, o reencuentros llenos de cinismo. Linda la cosa. La verdad es que yo no soy una persona que se incline demasiado en volver al pasado, o pasar toda una noche intentando recordar lo que recuerda el otro, mas fingir una sonrisa me parece tan pecaminoso como no pretender recordar, entonces prefiero no molestarme. Supongo tengo cosas más importantes que hacer. Obvio, tengo ese grupo de amigos del colegio, que veo un par de veces al año, y tenemos harto que hablar siempre. Con otras personas sería algo como: Hola, qué tal, ¿en qué estás?, ah, mira tú que bien. Eh, voy a buscarme algo para tomar, nos vemos de ahí. Pero ese "de ahí" no significa nada, ambas partes lo sabemos. Luego en mi mente que sobre-analiza todo vendrían pensamientos como: en qué estaba pensando cuando decidí venir. Quiero irme. Podría estar leyendo, o con mis verdaderos amigos. Y cuando me da la cosa me voy nomás, y a veces me escabullo, y me voy nomás.
Sí, soy de esas personas que en el momento más álgido de la incomodidad toma sus cosas y se va. Punto.Y ya aprendí que venimos al mundo solos. Nos paren. Pero llegamos solos. Y si estamos incómodos, nos vamos. Punto.
Algo así me pasó con Facebook. Bueno, evidentemente desactivé mi cuenta porque estoy terminando mi tesis de magister, que entrego en un par de semanas, ¡wi!, pero por otra parte estaba harta de mí misma allí, y también de lo que significa estar en esa plataforma. Tengo decidido volver, porque hay personas que no puedo contactar de otra forma, porque disfruto de sus historias, delirios y fotos. Pero hay otro grupo de gente que son los innecesarios, cuya sensibilidad virtual equivale a la pataleta. Por ahora me conecto por mi triste Twitter, a veces escribo en este pobre blog, y me comunico por correo, skype, y el chat de gmail. No es gran cosa estar fuera de FB en realidad. Sólo extrañaba compartir fotografías, y es allí donde entra Flickr.
Se me ocurrió abrir una cuenta la semana pasada. El domingo. Fue después de bajar a la calle y tomar fotos de la maratón de Santiago. Estaba Felipe, mi primo, de visita. Le dije me acompañara a comprar verduras a la feria de Providencia, la que me queda sólo a una cuadra, cruzando el Puente del Arzobispo. Luego de ello presenciamos el evento deportivo y saqué unas mediocres tomas, pero que igual quería compartir.
Recordé que mi tío, Felipe's dad, tenía un Flickr, y sus fotos son muy buenas. Igual me siento un poco loser de mostrar mis cosas porque no tienen nada que ver con las maravillas del trabajo de otros, ni su dedicación a "editarlas" con photoshop y cuanta cosa hay. Yo las tomo, las traspaso al computador, y las subo al Flickr, that's all. No hago nada más.
Supongo parte de mi interés en la fotografía, que viene de hace un tiempo atrás, es porque mi abuelo fue fotógrafo. Quién sabe si con algo de entrenamiento formal, algo de mi sensibilidad pueda ser expresado a través de la imagen. Estaba en esa reflexión cuando tuve una idea. Así como esa ampolleta. Sería muy útil para el taller de cuentos. El Flickr. Claramente. Es más, podría solicitarle a mis queridines utilizar material fotográfico propio, o ajeno (con permiso), e incluirlo en sus cuentos. Así, yo podría además compartir sus obras con la comunidad, si es que a alguien le interesa, y ellos mismos abrir sus cuentas e interactuar por allí. Habiendo gente de todas partes que puedan acceder a leer sus trabajos, comentarlos, y la relación con la imagen también. Será una suerte de proyecto nuevo, en el cual los asistentes se sentirán más cómodos, y a su vez estarán mucho más comprometidos con las tareas que les vaya dando, puesto que se podrían poner fechas de entrega. Eso pienso. Tengo que investigar cuán larga puede ser la descripción de una foto, para poder saber con exactitud si es plausible pegar sus cuentos y compartirlos. Creo que lo haré ahora. Inventaré algo. Y así también aprendo a usar la plataforma. Me gusta como funciona, tiene una lógica super amigable, incluso con nosotros los lerdos. Yo soy muy estúpida con la tecnología, y soy de la vieja escuela, sin ser vieja. Aún le encuentro el romanticismo al libro, al sonido exquisito de dar vuelta una página. Desempolvar libros, limpiarlos, soñar con restaurarlos algún día, oler las ediciones nuevas. Bueno, aparte del hecho mismo de leer, y tener un marcador que sea una flor seca, una hoja cualquiera. Y porque me gusta golpear con fuerza las teclas de mi Olivetti Lettera, mi máquina de escribir. Aunque no la he vuelto a usar desde que se me acabó el rollo de tinta. Le he comprado dos nuevos, y traté de instalarlos, pero se fue todo a la mierda. La miro y le pido perdón siempre. Ahora está toda polvorienta, y mis dedos se quejan, porque la extrañan. Esas callosidades que quedan cuando uno teclea fuerte, porque de lo contrario la letra no se plasma. Ese romanticismo, de eso hablo. De la pasión y de la fuerza. Pero no importa, ya en algún momento resolveré el tema de los rollos. Por ahora me contento con este nuevo plan, que será implementado muy pronto, y se los anunciaré este jueves. Entonces esa cuenta tiene un sentido más allá de mi afán fotográfico amateur y mediocre.
Me imagino cuántas veces la gente se ha encontrado con viejos compañeros del colegio, se han juntado masivamente y el evento termina en orgía, o una sarta de infidelidades, o reencuentros llenos de cinismo. Linda la cosa. La verdad es que yo no soy una persona que se incline demasiado en volver al pasado, o pasar toda una noche intentando recordar lo que recuerda el otro, mas fingir una sonrisa me parece tan pecaminoso como no pretender recordar, entonces prefiero no molestarme. Supongo tengo cosas más importantes que hacer. Obvio, tengo ese grupo de amigos del colegio, que veo un par de veces al año, y tenemos harto que hablar siempre. Con otras personas sería algo como: Hola, qué tal, ¿en qué estás?, ah, mira tú que bien. Eh, voy a buscarme algo para tomar, nos vemos de ahí. Pero ese "de ahí" no significa nada, ambas partes lo sabemos. Luego en mi mente que sobre-analiza todo vendrían pensamientos como: en qué estaba pensando cuando decidí venir. Quiero irme. Podría estar leyendo, o con mis verdaderos amigos. Y cuando me da la cosa me voy nomás, y a veces me escabullo, y me voy nomás.
Sí, soy de esas personas que en el momento más álgido de la incomodidad toma sus cosas y se va. Punto.Y ya aprendí que venimos al mundo solos. Nos paren. Pero llegamos solos. Y si estamos incómodos, nos vamos. Punto.
Algo así me pasó con Facebook. Bueno, evidentemente desactivé mi cuenta porque estoy terminando mi tesis de magister, que entrego en un par de semanas, ¡wi!, pero por otra parte estaba harta de mí misma allí, y también de lo que significa estar en esa plataforma. Tengo decidido volver, porque hay personas que no puedo contactar de otra forma, porque disfruto de sus historias, delirios y fotos. Pero hay otro grupo de gente que son los innecesarios, cuya sensibilidad virtual equivale a la pataleta. Por ahora me conecto por mi triste Twitter, a veces escribo en este pobre blog, y me comunico por correo, skype, y el chat de gmail. No es gran cosa estar fuera de FB en realidad. Sólo extrañaba compartir fotografías, y es allí donde entra Flickr.
Se me ocurrió abrir una cuenta la semana pasada. El domingo. Fue después de bajar a la calle y tomar fotos de la maratón de Santiago. Estaba Felipe, mi primo, de visita. Le dije me acompañara a comprar verduras a la feria de Providencia, la que me queda sólo a una cuadra, cruzando el Puente del Arzobispo. Luego de ello presenciamos el evento deportivo y saqué unas mediocres tomas, pero que igual quería compartir.
Recordé que mi tío, Felipe's dad, tenía un Flickr, y sus fotos son muy buenas. Igual me siento un poco loser de mostrar mis cosas porque no tienen nada que ver con las maravillas del trabajo de otros, ni su dedicación a "editarlas" con photoshop y cuanta cosa hay. Yo las tomo, las traspaso al computador, y las subo al Flickr, that's all. No hago nada más.
Supongo parte de mi interés en la fotografía, que viene de hace un tiempo atrás, es porque mi abuelo fue fotógrafo. Quién sabe si con algo de entrenamiento formal, algo de mi sensibilidad pueda ser expresado a través de la imagen. Estaba en esa reflexión cuando tuve una idea. Así como esa ampolleta. Sería muy útil para el taller de cuentos. El Flickr. Claramente. Es más, podría solicitarle a mis queridines utilizar material fotográfico propio, o ajeno (con permiso), e incluirlo en sus cuentos. Así, yo podría además compartir sus obras con la comunidad, si es que a alguien le interesa, y ellos mismos abrir sus cuentas e interactuar por allí. Habiendo gente de todas partes que puedan acceder a leer sus trabajos, comentarlos, y la relación con la imagen también. Será una suerte de proyecto nuevo, en el cual los asistentes se sentirán más cómodos, y a su vez estarán mucho más comprometidos con las tareas que les vaya dando, puesto que se podrían poner fechas de entrega. Eso pienso. Tengo que investigar cuán larga puede ser la descripción de una foto, para poder saber con exactitud si es plausible pegar sus cuentos y compartirlos. Creo que lo haré ahora. Inventaré algo. Y así también aprendo a usar la plataforma. Me gusta como funciona, tiene una lógica super amigable, incluso con nosotros los lerdos. Yo soy muy estúpida con la tecnología, y soy de la vieja escuela, sin ser vieja. Aún le encuentro el romanticismo al libro, al sonido exquisito de dar vuelta una página. Desempolvar libros, limpiarlos, soñar con restaurarlos algún día, oler las ediciones nuevas. Bueno, aparte del hecho mismo de leer, y tener un marcador que sea una flor seca, una hoja cualquiera. Y porque me gusta golpear con fuerza las teclas de mi Olivetti Lettera, mi máquina de escribir. Aunque no la he vuelto a usar desde que se me acabó el rollo de tinta. Le he comprado dos nuevos, y traté de instalarlos, pero se fue todo a la mierda. La miro y le pido perdón siempre. Ahora está toda polvorienta, y mis dedos se quejan, porque la extrañan. Esas callosidades que quedan cuando uno teclea fuerte, porque de lo contrario la letra no se plasma. Ese romanticismo, de eso hablo. De la pasión y de la fuerza. Pero no importa, ya en algún momento resolveré el tema de los rollos. Por ahora me contento con este nuevo plan, que será implementado muy pronto, y se los anunciaré este jueves. Entonces esa cuenta tiene un sentido más allá de mi afán fotográfico amateur y mediocre.
Tuesday, April 09, 2013
Sentimientos Encontrados
¿Sabes? Escribo esto así porque no hablas español. Quién sabe llegues a esto algún día. Como que me vino una penita. Así de repente. Lo correcto es que no sepa nada de ti, ni tú de mí, porque no tiene sentido. Para ninguno. Pero por otro lado pienso, hoy, que me gustaría saber lo que estás haciendo. Y principalmente porque estuve tan cerca de tenerte cerca pese a que no lo estás. Y te tuve pues. Y después no. Y luego te mandé a la mierda por esquizofrénico, porque no puedo andar soportando sandeces. Y creo que soy valiente, porque alguna otra aguantaría, para no andar sintiéndose loser, o que es malo estar solo, o que lleva sola mucho tiempo y aguanta cualquier weá. No pos. Y sé que el exabrupto de hoy no será nada el día de mañana. Pero como te decía, para que no sepas jamás. Me vino una penita. Y creo que es porque estoy aburrida, porque no me gusta nadie, y eso es muy fome. No es que vea la vida en blanco y negro, obvio que no. De hecho me está yendo muy bien en todo. Pero me aburre no fijarme en nadie. No hay nadie. Ni tú. Aunque existas un rato. Y tu espíritu merodee mi existencia. Y se me ocurrió que hay una canción que resume todo esto, una canción de Keane, de su primer disco. Se llama "We might as well be strangers". Como que me gustaría olvidar lo ridículo que es todo esto, y que tú hagas lo mismo. Y no sé, conversar un rato. Tú puedes fumarte tu pucho tranquilo, y yo te voy a mirar, narigón. Y me di cuenta un día que tienes los dientes super feos, especialmente los de abajo. Pero no me importó. Quiero mirarte a los ojos. Y tampoco sé de qué conversarte. Y tú siempre me dices lo mismo. Quizás si repito de otra forma lo que me dices, el espíritu mimético nos lleve tal vez a algo coherente. Y mañana sigo con la tesis, y con mi vida normal. Y estoy contenta porque al fin estoy terminando el magister. Creo que estoy así porque me va a llegar la regla. Disculpa la sinceridad.
Wednesday, April 03, 2013
It's not too late for some resolutions
I think it's never too late for some resolutions. I don't believe in New Year resolutions, so mine are... April resolutions. Anyway, I've been thinking about the time I have for myself now, which is plenty. For the first time ever since I started working, I feel there is a balance between work and personal life. That is to say, I have time to do my stuff without feeling guilty. Yes, because when you're a teacher, you spent most of your "free time" planning lessons and correcting tests and activities. I've written enough about it, and how annoying it is that we get paid only for the teaching hours, as if they appear out of nowhere and we just stand up in front of the class, press play, and talk about the American Civil War for one hour. Any questions, students? No? Okay, next class... blah blah
Well, to be honest with you, I start work at 11 AM most days, and I have a whole day off a week, which is Wednesday, and it's perfect, because it divides the week and makes me feel that the weekend is around the corner. Also, because I start at 9.30 on Thursdays (ouch!), and it's my busiest day, until 7.30 or something. That means getting home at 8.30 or so. But it's only that day. Fridays are kinda busy too, but it's almost only literature classes, so it's like being on holiday for me.
I figured I could do lots of things with my time. I walk to work every day. It takes me about 15 minutes. Walking slowly. I could cycle, but it would take me longer to take the bike out of the building and parking it at the university. So I walk. High heels and all sometimes. Snickers some others. They ask me for the student card at the entrance sometimes. I like that. The security guys say: your ID. And I'm like: I'm a professor. It feels like a little victory, it's good not to look old, considering that most students are between 18-24. That very fact made me think I could look and feel better.
Ever since I returned from my trip, I've been having a more or less healthy diet. And I feel good. Yesterday I thought I could re-start something I did last year, quite sucessfully until laziness won: running. I've just returned from my first day running. Of course, all this post must be the result of all those hormones released while doing exercise. I went running from 8 to 9 AM, and I figured it was a bit crowded with bikes, so I will try to get up earlier and go between 7.30 to 8.30. It's amazing how many attractive people you spot on the way. Of course, I'm just starting so I feel like a rolling ball of fat, but soon I will feel lighter and more satisfied. I want to do this three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I also consider exercising going dancing, so that's also once a week, Saturdays mostly. But if I go to my parents' I guess I will take my time for a run along the countryside, the view is absolutely beautiful. And the air is clean, which is important.
One of the reasons I decided to go running in the morning, apart from the fact I have plenty of time before 11 AM to do stuff, is that Santiago is a very polluted city, so I guess mornings are better than evenings, where the same polluted air has been circulating. And to be honest, I didn't feel anything, I didn't have any breathing problems, which is something that prevents me from running, and I use it as an excuse for being lazy. Not this time.
How am I doing it? Well it's not that you just leave home and run for an hour, as if it's natural to you. No. I have this routine. This plan. It lasts 10 weeks, after which I'm supposed to be able to run for half an hour straight, and just resting 2 minutes to start running another half hour. They say I'd be prepared to run 10K in an hour. Sounds scary. And well, today being my first day I have to tell you I ran about 25 minutes altogether. Not bad. Of course I had to walk in between. I ran about 6 minutes, walked 3, ran 8, walked 3, run 10, went home.
Running makes you think about cigarettes. Disgusting. Those who know me well are aware that I don't normally smoke, and I only do it when I'm drinking. That is to say, I feel like smoking about once or twice a week. Thanks to the new smoking law, it's more difficult to smoke, it's like in England, but I won't probably care, and if I'm tipsy I'll just go and smoke a few times. That does not concern me very much, but if I feel it's affecting my running performance, I will try to quit.
Music is important. I downloaded some songs last night, to get ready for my new hobby. Of course it's lively, dance music, not the type I would listen to on a normal day. But keeps me going. Music helps a lot, especially because you're on your own, sweating, moving, feelinf the wind against your face. And I have nice running shoes.
So that's my April's resolution. That I will go running three times a week. I will not say it was easy to get up earlier today, but I'm willing to keep trying. Wish me luck.
Well, to be honest with you, I start work at 11 AM most days, and I have a whole day off a week, which is Wednesday, and it's perfect, because it divides the week and makes me feel that the weekend is around the corner. Also, because I start at 9.30 on Thursdays (ouch!), and it's my busiest day, until 7.30 or something. That means getting home at 8.30 or so. But it's only that day. Fridays are kinda busy too, but it's almost only literature classes, so it's like being on holiday for me.
I figured I could do lots of things with my time. I walk to work every day. It takes me about 15 minutes. Walking slowly. I could cycle, but it would take me longer to take the bike out of the building and parking it at the university. So I walk. High heels and all sometimes. Snickers some others. They ask me for the student card at the entrance sometimes. I like that. The security guys say: your ID. And I'm like: I'm a professor. It feels like a little victory, it's good not to look old, considering that most students are between 18-24. That very fact made me think I could look and feel better.
Ever since I returned from my trip, I've been having a more or less healthy diet. And I feel good. Yesterday I thought I could re-start something I did last year, quite sucessfully until laziness won: running. I've just returned from my first day running. Of course, all this post must be the result of all those hormones released while doing exercise. I went running from 8 to 9 AM, and I figured it was a bit crowded with bikes, so I will try to get up earlier and go between 7.30 to 8.30. It's amazing how many attractive people you spot on the way. Of course, I'm just starting so I feel like a rolling ball of fat, but soon I will feel lighter and more satisfied. I want to do this three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I also consider exercising going dancing, so that's also once a week, Saturdays mostly. But if I go to my parents' I guess I will take my time for a run along the countryside, the view is absolutely beautiful. And the air is clean, which is important.
One of the reasons I decided to go running in the morning, apart from the fact I have plenty of time before 11 AM to do stuff, is that Santiago is a very polluted city, so I guess mornings are better than evenings, where the same polluted air has been circulating. And to be honest, I didn't feel anything, I didn't have any breathing problems, which is something that prevents me from running, and I use it as an excuse for being lazy. Not this time.
How am I doing it? Well it's not that you just leave home and run for an hour, as if it's natural to you. No. I have this routine. This plan. It lasts 10 weeks, after which I'm supposed to be able to run for half an hour straight, and just resting 2 minutes to start running another half hour. They say I'd be prepared to run 10K in an hour. Sounds scary. And well, today being my first day I have to tell you I ran about 25 minutes altogether. Not bad. Of course I had to walk in between. I ran about 6 minutes, walked 3, ran 8, walked 3, run 10, went home.
Running makes you think about cigarettes. Disgusting. Those who know me well are aware that I don't normally smoke, and I only do it when I'm drinking. That is to say, I feel like smoking about once or twice a week. Thanks to the new smoking law, it's more difficult to smoke, it's like in England, but I won't probably care, and if I'm tipsy I'll just go and smoke a few times. That does not concern me very much, but if I feel it's affecting my running performance, I will try to quit.
Music is important. I downloaded some songs last night, to get ready for my new hobby. Of course it's lively, dance music, not the type I would listen to on a normal day. But keeps me going. Music helps a lot, especially because you're on your own, sweating, moving, feelinf the wind against your face. And I have nice running shoes.
So that's my April's resolution. That I will go running three times a week. I will not say it was easy to get up earlier today, but I'm willing to keep trying. Wish me luck.
Monday, April 01, 2013
The Seductive Power of Handwriting
Handwriting
tells a lot about a person. I totally ignore what my handwriting says
about me though. Somehow it shows sincerity, and that the person took
the time to write whatever he/she wrote to you. I like writing
letters and stuff, I don't get back as much as I'd like, but that's
okay. Maybe most people are not so fond of writing. I feel good for
having written to them, for making sure my hand was holding the pen,
and it started to move to the right, in ups and downs, and circles. I
don't study handwritings. It just feels right to see a friend's
handwriting, and also because it means that person thought about you
for a while, and still does, so of course one has to say something.
Good old-fashion writing. I love it. I love sending writing, as I
enjoy receiving it. Maybe you will not know who I am for my writing.
But I'm sure my handwriting says things about me, things I'm not
saying, nor writing. It must reveal something, I don't know what that
is, and nobody has told me yet. After seeing my friend's postcard
from Germany, I'm determined to say thanks, of course, try to send
one back, and I'm glad to know someome thought about me, and took
time to say something nice. I never expect anything from anyone, so
of course it feels so nice and special. I take pleasure in making
people feel special too, I could do that for a living. Just for the
hell of it.
Monday, March 25, 2013
No puedo con tu esquizofrenia
no puedo con tu esquizofrenia. y todo lo que viene con esas profundas contradicciones e inconexiones traen a mi mente todos mis fracasos, y no puedo lidiar con ellos. los tengo escondidos, guardados bajo llave. pero tu esquizofrenia los saca y los deja en el patio, para que los vea cuando llegue a la casa del trabajo. no puedo con tu esquizofrenia, porque no tengo por qué aguantarla. y ya no tengo paciencia contigo, ni con tus estupideces. no me arrepiento de haberte conocido, ni lo que alcanzamos a hacer, decir y compartir. pero tu esquizofrenia me supera. y por eso digo que no puedo con ella. y hasta aquí llegamos. no puedo con tus contradicciones. es gratuito, y hace rato que tengo la convicción que valgo mucho más que las molestias.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Planning Nice Things to Do
My last post was written before the end of last year. Now, in the first quarter of this year, and after a week away from returning from Europe, I can't wait to travel again. It does not necessarily mean going there again, don't get me wrong. I love England, and the English, the parks, etc.
I decided to have a quiet life now. It makes sense. I did lots of stuff while I was away, and somehow my body still says: hey, chill. Let's just lay in bed and listen to music. By the way, the day I got to my room I turned on the radio and played "Radio Paula", I haven't changed the station, and I don't mean to. Okay, it's not that I like 100% of the songs, but it's mostly my type of music, if you're interested: http://vivo.radiopaula.cl/player/
Somehow life--I don't want to say fate--gave me a new chance to earn more money, just when I was feeling quite content with working 10 hours a week, now I have 18, and from next month it will be 22. But that's all, it's not a lot if you think about it, and I will earn more than those people in an office from 9 to 6. The good thing is that I can pay my debts faster, and start saving soon.
So, there's this thing about saving... what should I save the money for. I didn't think it twice: travelling. But I don't mean to go to Europe this time. It's not necessary. It's a huge distance, and it's very likely that I move to England next year. Yes.
When something's been on your mind, or you see an ad, you listen to a song that reminds you of something, someone or somewhere, and you put all the pieces together at a very special moment, you know there's something going on, so, yes: I would like to go to Cuba. The facts that made me think about it: a friend went there some time ago, a friend from Bristol, the idea was in my mind for a while... so when I realised I could start saving again, I immediately started simulating trips to different places, until I found the link to La Havana. And I was curious, also because the plane ticket is not particularly expensive.
Then I started thinking about another factor: distance. England is about 11.000 kilometres away from Chile; or let's say that Santiago is really far away from London, and I've been landing in Heathrow during the last two/three years. If I go to England next year, I could say I travel there once a year. But I'm tired of the distance. The last trip took me about 26 hours from Santiago to London Heathrow, with 4 hour stops in Lima and Madrid respectively. It's not that it always takes that much. The shortest way to come here is with Air France, which was the airline that took me there for the first time in July 2011. Well, the thing is that La Havana, Cuba is only 6.400 Kilometres away, so it's like... halfway. It makes sense.
Why Cuba? I don't know for sure. But I've been really interested in going ever since I was teaching about Latin American revolutions. And Castro appeared, and comunism, I have also met a few Cubans during the last few years, and regardless of whatever happens to them, they tend to be very positive and happy people, I like that. The island is pretty big, and I have already started setting myself into the Cuban mode. I know I'd like to visit La Havana, Varadero, Matanzas, Holguín, Los Cayos, Santiago de Cuba (of course haha), and god knows what else. I was told that two weeks were necessary for a proper view of the island.
To be really honest, I don't actually know if I'm going, everything will make sense as soon as I book my flight, which I would like to do in May, tops... othewise it might get too expensive.
Apart from the views I would really like to get to know Cubans, share with them, talk to them, attempt to dance salsa, even though I'm kinda terrible at it. I would also like to enjoy white beaches and the turquoise sea water...
I just figured: I've missed my last two summers, I've been in the north during January and February, and some March 2012-2013, so it makes a lot of sense to go to a sunny and hot place and get my nice gold suntan, which I did not get to have this year. I look so pale right now, especially next to my sister, who's got an amazing tan. It's not that being tanned is important, but I kinda miss it. I want to enjoy rum, cigars, nice cocktails by the beach. Long walks, and maybe some all-inclusive resorts. Scuva diving at the reef. Learning about Cuban history. Doesn't sound bad at all. It's good to have something to do... and I believe that investing your money in travelling while you're still young, single and childless are the best conditions, so we shouldn't miss these opportunities. I'd like to go with someone though... I guess I'll ask around once I'm sure.
I decided to have a quiet life now. It makes sense. I did lots of stuff while I was away, and somehow my body still says: hey, chill. Let's just lay in bed and listen to music. By the way, the day I got to my room I turned on the radio and played "Radio Paula", I haven't changed the station, and I don't mean to. Okay, it's not that I like 100% of the songs, but it's mostly my type of music, if you're interested: http://vivo.radiopaula.cl/player/
Somehow life--I don't want to say fate--gave me a new chance to earn more money, just when I was feeling quite content with working 10 hours a week, now I have 18, and from next month it will be 22. But that's all, it's not a lot if you think about it, and I will earn more than those people in an office from 9 to 6. The good thing is that I can pay my debts faster, and start saving soon.
So, there's this thing about saving... what should I save the money for. I didn't think it twice: travelling. But I don't mean to go to Europe this time. It's not necessary. It's a huge distance, and it's very likely that I move to England next year. Yes.
When something's been on your mind, or you see an ad, you listen to a song that reminds you of something, someone or somewhere, and you put all the pieces together at a very special moment, you know there's something going on, so, yes: I would like to go to Cuba. The facts that made me think about it: a friend went there some time ago, a friend from Bristol, the idea was in my mind for a while... so when I realised I could start saving again, I immediately started simulating trips to different places, until I found the link to La Havana. And I was curious, also because the plane ticket is not particularly expensive.
Then I started thinking about another factor: distance. England is about 11.000 kilometres away from Chile; or let's say that Santiago is really far away from London, and I've been landing in Heathrow during the last two/three years. If I go to England next year, I could say I travel there once a year. But I'm tired of the distance. The last trip took me about 26 hours from Santiago to London Heathrow, with 4 hour stops in Lima and Madrid respectively. It's not that it always takes that much. The shortest way to come here is with Air France, which was the airline that took me there for the first time in July 2011. Well, the thing is that La Havana, Cuba is only 6.400 Kilometres away, so it's like... halfway. It makes sense.
Why Cuba? I don't know for sure. But I've been really interested in going ever since I was teaching about Latin American revolutions. And Castro appeared, and comunism, I have also met a few Cubans during the last few years, and regardless of whatever happens to them, they tend to be very positive and happy people, I like that. The island is pretty big, and I have already started setting myself into the Cuban mode. I know I'd like to visit La Havana, Varadero, Matanzas, Holguín, Los Cayos, Santiago de Cuba (of course haha), and god knows what else. I was told that two weeks were necessary for a proper view of the island.
To be really honest, I don't actually know if I'm going, everything will make sense as soon as I book my flight, which I would like to do in May, tops... othewise it might get too expensive.
Apart from the views I would really like to get to know Cubans, share with them, talk to them, attempt to dance salsa, even though I'm kinda terrible at it. I would also like to enjoy white beaches and the turquoise sea water...
I just figured: I've missed my last two summers, I've been in the north during January and February, and some March 2012-2013, so it makes a lot of sense to go to a sunny and hot place and get my nice gold suntan, which I did not get to have this year. I look so pale right now, especially next to my sister, who's got an amazing tan. It's not that being tanned is important, but I kinda miss it. I want to enjoy rum, cigars, nice cocktails by the beach. Long walks, and maybe some all-inclusive resorts. Scuva diving at the reef. Learning about Cuban history. Doesn't sound bad at all. It's good to have something to do... and I believe that investing your money in travelling while you're still young, single and childless are the best conditions, so we shouldn't miss these opportunities. I'd like to go with someone though... I guess I'll ask around once I'm sure.
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