Redescovering Buenos Aires

It is not easy to make a jump of 50 degrees Celsius, between Denver and Buenos Aires. Your body takes a few days to adjust. Between the heat and the humidity, oh well... my pores try to absorb all at once... and here I go. I sleep in till noon, and that simply kills me.

I wake up wondering where am at. I´ve dreamt more these days than in the last six months. I dream of unfairness and my rebellion against it. Oh, well.

So I am up now, trying to figure out what to do next. I still have to find out about the Eucharist celebration tonight. I should try calling these people once again. Ok, I just got the information. 8 p.m. at Santa Amelia, and they start between 8.30 and 9 p.m. Imagine that!

Does not matter how hard I try, it always takes me 3 days to adjust to being back in Argentina. I loose all sense of order. Routine ceases to exist, and the lack of it simply kills me. Not just because it´s inexistent, but because there is no order in a world of commitments... Oh, well. I know I´m just going through this adaptation process.

The good news? David will be glad to hear... My brother has two guitars, and I´ll be taking one back with me to Denver. Isn´t that neat?

So I know what I´ll do now. Take a shower, have a smoothy and head down to downtown, looking for music sheets... tango music sheets for piano. And then, get lost in the city, at the bookstores, taking pictures of a sleepy Buenos Aires in the heat of the summer.

Nice to reconnect to something that keeps me centered... books, that is...

Colorado flowers, from a German point of view

There's no Autobahn in Colorado, as my German friend soon found out, or the friendly law enforcement officers kindly reminded him. Either a charming smile, or his (slightly noticeable) foreign accent, seemed to have done the trick.

And there's definitively no Autobahn if you try to go up "hiking" with your 4WD. But here's the beauty of it, speed lovers... Colorado flowers are in full bloom this month, and you can only see them if you slow down, get off your cars, and get treading through the lushful scene. Yeah, Colorado can be lushful, sometimes. Pack your backup, get your bike, put a few friends together--no matter the language they speak--and head up to the mountains. July will be over soon. So get in Autobahn mode, and get here fast!

Picture by Sufian © 2008. All rights reserved.

La huerta

Breve, brevísimo, pero quería compartir la emoción de mi primera cosecha de lechuga.

En primer plano, casi invisibles, las zanahorias que recién empezaron a asomar. Sigue el batallón de lechugas y, atrás, lentos pero decididos, los tomates. El árbol de manzanas señorea la huerta, rodeado de la elegante señora albahaca y el arrollador cilantro, con su aire de mexicano pícaro. Atrás, con ínfulas de realeza, vigila el estragón, secundado de las orejas de elefantes, que me quedaron enanas, pero muy conventilleras ellas. Al fondo a la derecha, mis dalias queridas llenas de capullos.

Hoy toca sacrificar la lechuga, en un festín de balsámico y aceite entrerriano.

¡Glup! como decía nuestra amiga Blanca Cotta.

El misterioso arte del flan

8 huevos
1 litro de leche
12 cucharadas de azúcar
un chorrito de esencia de vainilla

Azúcar para quemar.

Preferentemente, mezclar los huevos a mano sin batir, para que queden los agujeritos. Cuantos más agujeritos, más rico el flan. Como el queso gruyere, ¿viste?

Se puede comer con cuchara grande o chiquita, acompañado o solo. Y si tenés dulce de leche, la combinación es deliciosa: la textura se deshace en la boca... y uno vuelve a empezar. Con cuchara grande o chiquita, acompañado o solo. Y si tenés dulce de leche...

At Craig's List Speed

Or my "Craig's List" moment...

My life changed last August through a Craig's List posting. Will it change again, if I realize I just rented out (did I?) my new home to some stranger...

Her question was simply put---when it will be available for moving in? "Small detail," I thought. I never thought I had to set a move-in date.

I was simply, simply crying out, out of helplessness... Chechu, I may need a place to live in till my Sabbatical starts!!!!

(Or simply, I should just pull down the posting from "speed-of-light" Craig's List)

Time for a Sabbatical?

You know... On the 7th year, it's time for a Sabbatical. Specially if there are some winds of change blowing around. How quickly would people respond to a Craig's List posting for my house?

Now, coming up with things to do wouldn't be hard. Pay off bills first. Then, go to Spain, fly to Argentina, and work from the home land for 3 months. By then, the winter will be almost over, and time to take over the house again. Time to start gardening and preparing the soil for new fruits. How much planning a Sabbatical would take?

Lluvia de verano en Iguazú

(Turn on your speakers)

Hablando de perspectivas y puntos de vista, para ver llover en Iguazú hace falta una tarde de verano, un árbol y una hamaca, pero sobre todo, las ganas de ver llover. Se acompaña la acción de mirar con un movimiento leve tipo mecedora, va y viene, va y viene, va y viene, va y viene. Preferentemente, la casa debe estar desierta, o por lo menos, los perros apaciguados. La hamaca, en lo posible, debe estar hecha de hilo trabajado a mano, y si es manufactura guaraní, mucho mejor.

La actividad debe llevarse a cabo por un mínimo de una hora. Si es hacia el anochecer, mucho mejor: la recompensa del sujeto son las chicharras encendidas que arrancan en coro (en primera, y a distintos ritmos, al principio, y después al unísono ensordecedor). Al son de las chicharras, se empiezan a despejar las nubes y sentimos el alivio de no haber quedado ahogados. A este sentimiento de redención, se le agrega el mate amargo, que sale recién hecho, y que viene a saciar esas ganas de volvernos selva, espírituo verde y salvaje, de pies rápidos y colorados, y mirada intensa, oscura y breve.

¿Escribió sobre la lluvia alguna vez nuestro amigo Horacio Quiroga?

Traveling with Amazing Grace

Discovering His Grace in our trip to Albuquerque, NM

Traveling the Highway Way

If you take I-25 South, and stick to it, you will eventually end up in Albuquerque. That means that you've traveled some 400 miles south of Denver, entered New Mexico, went past Santa Fe (and even missed Taos...), and you won't even notice. America, from the Highway, looks all the same. The only thing that changes are the licence plate colors, and the population density.

Adobe houses? We probably saw one or two. They are hidden from the fast-track tourists, who travel at 110 miles an hour (oops! really? I truly apologize, Officer, I thought I was going just 5 miles over the speed limit!)

So the way back to Denver will be the slow way. We'll take the High Road, from Santa Fe to Taos, we'll venture into the Sand Dunes, and we'll do a quick stop at the wild hot springs on the way. In all these years, that I have tried to come visit NM at least once a year, this is the first time I take I-25 all the way down. And I strongly advise you against it.

But the goal was to get here quick. We've completed Phase I of this trip, and tomorrow will be tomorow.

Life South of the Border

Two lagartijas get wired up at the gate lamp.

Identity and the World

While I search for the identity of this site, here's "El Mundo" de Eduardo Galeano:

Un hombre del pueblo de Neguá, en la costa de Colombia, pudo subir al alto cielo.
A la vuelta, contó. Dijo que había contemplado, desde allá arriba, la vida humana. Y dijo que somos un mar de fueguitos.
--El mundo es eso --reveló--. Un montón de gente, un mar de fueguitos.
Cada persona brilla con luz propia entre todas las demás. No hay dos fuegos iguales. Hay fuegos grandes y fuegos chicos y fuegos de todos los colores. Hay gente de fuego sereno, que ni se entera del viento, y gente de fuego loco, que llena el aire de chispas. Algunos fuegos, fuegos bobos, no alumbran ni queman; pero otros arden la vida con tantas ganas que no se puede mirarlos sin parpadear, y quien se acerca, se enciende.