Todo me parece bonito

Now blogging elsewhere

2011-09-24T13:00:00.002-05:00

Hello folks, for those of you who are wondering where I am writing now, this is it. For those of you wondering what I'm doing now, this is it! For anything else, send me any messages.

The End of an Era

2009-04-19T22:28:00.003-05:00

Graduation, births, marriage... who knows. There are some few obvious landmarks in life that signify change, growth, goodbyes and the next step. For those of us "Gainesvilleanos" who decide on less mundane ones, the end of Umoja is certainly the end of an era.

There are some of us who love music, and not only music, but the feelings evoked in a diaspora of joy and talent that is the inevitably sweaty mix of an Umoja crowd. It is Afro-beat, it is Latin, it is Jazz and sometimes even Funk. At some point I was sure they were Reggae. Two saxophones, a trombone, a trumpet, bass, congas, guacharacas, keyboards, guitar, accordion... anything else?
Some of them have left, some stayed, some just stuck and some dissolved... it is a gigantic mass that attracts musicians and lets them go with the equal ease with which it brought them. That unequivocally selfless love that is not co-dependent; that will always take in from whomever wishes to contribute.

There was a time a little less than four years ago, I recall well, when this eclectic group of musicians got together and decided that each could play to his own tune yet at the same time, like a fruit salad or Skittles, together but not mixed, independent but packed in one tight package that was that stage at 1982, or the Side Bar. It was fun... not yet inspiring, but different and provoking curiosity, especially for us Hispanics who could not help but wonder at this group of Jewish gringos plus Colombian, who could not very well dance to the music but felt it so much more than any of us.

It was a curiosity.

Four years later I can say that in the only two constants in my college life were Krishna lunch and Umoja. They got better... oh so much better, without losing their childlike innocence though, not taking it too seriously nor too lightly. They stopped being a curiosity and became an object of awe. It is the only group that could not sicken me and my melomaniac friends, because a show was not only a sensory experience but a soul-lifting one. It is safe to say that the only place where we Colombians felt like dancing in Gainesville was at their shows, in spite of it being Afro-beat, in spite of its instrumentality and its lack of pop-like attitude. The bond between band members transcended into their music, hence to the atmosphere and floated on to the audience,embracing us in a bubble, making us part of this magical thing that could superimpose the fabulousness of a trumpet solo onto cultural barriers.

An Umoja show is one of the best places to see all different types of people, usually divided in their own cliques, united under that supreme force that is genuinely good music. No one can keep from dancing, or attempting to dance, or simply convulsing to a certain conga rhythm.

Friday's show, their supposedly last show in their birth city of Gainesville, was like a typical good bye for me; simply a denial. I took it like any other show of the so many that I have been to. No sentimentality. And I am sure most of the band members did so as well. Because we all knew, all of us sweating in that show that sold out way ahead of time, that this is not an "adios" but simply an "hasta luego." This band is not like others.. it can't die. It is a growing thing, a living thing, a plant, an ideal, a place, a time... and abstract masses like that don't have finite endings.

Yet I did have all the flashbacks... to the original members, to the lack of coordination, to David Borenstein's saxophone-playing faces and Sebastian's poem readings. From covers of "La tierra" to a narration of the Wayuu massacre. There is story behind it, there is feeling. And seeing so much talent together simply makes joy. It is pure and good joy.

And the Common Grounds will certainly not be the burial ground of such monstrous joy.

Because I'm obsessed with Ice and Fire.

2009-03-21T22:55:00.000-05:00

"Some say the world will end in fire;
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To know that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice"
-Robert Frost

Colombians Harvesting Hope

2009-03-21T21:34:00.006-05:00

So I have two types of friends: music festival veterans and those who are completely alien to them.

And then there is my mother, who innocently asked me: "is that like a Woodstock or something?" and my answer had to be: yes, mother. The pathetic, run-down version people of my generation have to settle for. And we're not even talking about Bonnaroo or Lollapalloza.

Harvest of Hope had its debut two weeks ago, in some fairgrounds close to St Augustine. The purpose? To help migrant workers. This is the only organization to do so in such a direct way by helping them not with funds that end up who knows where, but directly to get back to Mexico, or to find medical aid.

Yet in spite of all this benevolence, the truth was the festival managed to rate amongst my favorite random three-day events. I had never been to a music festival, since the ones I have ever found interest tend to run through the summer, and I have yet to spend one of those in the US. This particular one, though, was oh-so-conveniently close and affordable. My friend had to go and take pictures for a publication so we made a plan out of it.

Originally, it was supposed to be four girls, to be classified as absolute rookies, sharing a tent and improvising a campsite. We ended up shacking up with a group of Colombian grad students, veterans, to classify them in one of the above categories, who singlehandedly saved our very inexperienced asses. Thanks to them we were probably the better prepared campsite with decent food and shade, which without a doubt became an important factor throughout the weekend.

We arrived to set camp together with 1000 other tents and fellow campers or what we warmly began to call "harvesteros", into a dust-bin shamelessly called a camp site. I was sick and later thankful for it, since my olfactory sense was relentlessly impaired and apparently, music festivals are quite the smelly places.

While these guys cooked dinner in a portable grill, us girly-girls had fun finding suitable ground for our Walmart-purchased tent.

And then there was the big "chillout" tent, which we flamboyantly decorated with a Colombian flag and a PACE flag, which is peace in Italian, but was a rainbow nonetheless. Later we heard a very drug- influenced fellow camper muttering, "they are Colombian AND gay?? They MUST have cocaine!" We did not. Nor mushrooms, acid, hallucinogens, or all the other substances we kept getting asked about throughout the weekend. Whether it was the flags, or we were just part of the constant overall drug swapping that was going on, will remain unknown.

That first night was Girl Talk, and it was fabulous. The overall energy was high; people were fresh and ready to party. The remaining three stages remained unvisited by our group that first night. The crazed out DJ with the random hipster dancers kept us hypnotized for the entirety of the show, and we were dazzled.

The next day the transformation began: We slowly began mutating into hippies. The non-showering, the shedding of clothes, the intense heat, the ambiance of eternal, worldly love... maybe all of it together had the desired effect. Who knows.

First was the beach though. An essential break to all the dirt and madness. St Augustine beach was good sun, freezing water and fabulous wind. Good, good stuff.

During the next days the highlights were certainly Propagandhi, Against Me!, Tokyo Police Club, Wild Sweet Orange.... The audience? Even though most of the people could easily be divided among the Punk, Hippie and Hipster scene, there were various exceptions that were pleasurable to the eye. Children rocking out, for example. I remember spotting a little girl of about four, who stood onstage for all of Against Me! and shook her hips like there was no tomorrow. Or the random homeless dude with the rat that managed to hang with everyone in the campsite. Or the soul-healing shaman. Or the dudes walking around with rainbow-colored umbrellas offering free shade. There was too much randomness and not enough time for it all to sink in. At night the campsite was madness. Drum circles, streakers and wanderers were no exception.

In the end, after three days of sun, rocking music, great company and surprisingly good food, we were left with an aura of happiness and overall well-being that would last us for the rest of the break.

Un tren de hielo y fuego

2008-12-20T22:24:00.003-05:00

The splendor of looking through my father's new acquisitions for his antique book collection is a hardly describable joy. He shows me the last one he got in Argentina, about the process of cheese fermentation. The endless pages of tables on different cheese fungi bring a spark to his eye that I rarely get to see.

I ask him to recommend a book to me.

He walks down his immense bookshelf, pacing between two stands, "AH" he says, while handing me a very yellow-covered book. It is originally in French, he says, so buy it in its tongue and read it. And this copy I'm not giving to you anyways, he says, because it is signed by the author and you will lose it.

"Do you kids remember when we saw the train of ice and fire depart?" and I have no idea what he is talking about.

The book, written by Ramon Chao, is a chronicle of Manu Chao's former music group, Mano Negra, as they travel in a reconstructed old passenger train from Bogota to the coast. The red colored locomotive, splattered with yellow butterflies, carried one hundred musicians, acrobats and artists, whose purpose was to put on free shows throughout their journey.

"You really can't remember?" he asks expectantly. Heads shake. "Shit did I waste time with you kids. What was the point of taking you to these things?"

Still muttering curses of disappointment, he beings glancing through its pages while Kinder and I exchange an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

"Ok ok.... do you guys think this could be us?"

He hands me the book. In black and white, there is the picture of a long, psychedelic train with hands sticking out the windows, waving. Standing on the sidelines, with no one else to see it part, stands a tall, thin man accompanied by a big-headed four-year-old boy and a long-haired six-year-old girl. The picture captures the threesome from behind, but it still shows what was, undeniably, the three of us approximately 15 years ago.

Shit I wish I remembered that. He rips the book away from me again, now with a hint of a smile but still mumbling about the waste that we are. He continues to glance through the book for at least half an hour. In the meantime, Kinder and I ponder about the deliriousness of the tale, and how I would have loved to be Ramon Chao, documenting such a freaking tripy experience.

"Found it!" He screams in ecstasy, and puts on his sweet storytelling voice that brings him back 20 years to his days as a radio commentator.

"'Ricardo Alarcon, the president of Caracol Radio, and his two children, arrive ten minutes before the departure. I hastily dispatch them...'
There is even a reference to us, kids; A one-sentence one, but a reference nonetheless. How the hell can you not remember this?'"

His face makes me feel like jumping from the couch and pretending a sudden memory flow but I've never been much of a liar. So he puts it back on the shelf and proceeds to show me a copy of "El General en su Laberinto" that has a dedication on the front page from Gabo himself.

"Take the other copy.... fuck I hope you remember this when I'm dead and don't simply throw the book to the trash like your mother did with my records. Really, will you at least remember this? Autographed by Gabriel Garcia Marquez? Probably worth something?"

Yes, father. When you are dead, I sure will.

I am finally happy to live in the USA

2008-11-09T13:14:00.003-05:00

I have never quite adjusted to this country. I could be a reticence from my part, but I believe it was mostly that I couldn't tangibly see the ideals that Americans so proudly preached. This idea of a melting pot looked more like a mosaic to me; people of different races and nationalities stuck together in one space, without mixing or interfering in each other's colors.

For the seven years that I have lived here, George W. Bush has been the president of this nation. I for one knew that he didn't represent the amazing Americans I had happened to meet, but I also knew that he had to have been elected by someone: by the majority. To think about it made me sick to my stomach.

I am one of the few latin american immigrants that I know, who doesn't have to be here because of lack of a better option. I chose to live here, with the hope that at some point the ideals of the country would reflect my own. That the nation could see that integrity, intelligence and tolerance cannot be based on religious beliefs or in racial backgrounds. Whoever understands that we all deserve the same would understand why I had such high expectations for this nation.

Now that they are fulfilled, I am sure that people around the world will radically change their views of this country as much as I have.

Thanks.

And so my blog is...

2008-09-09T07:11:00.002-05:00

Ok so I promised I would link you to the new blog I'm going to be writing, and this is it.

I am happy about the subject I chose. Before I had posted on this blog about the Zen ones that had been catching my attention. It's an honor to do one myself, geared toward people my age. I am quite excited about it and hopefully you will enjoy it too.

As for Gainesville, football season has once again made my weekend fun. I am very excited as to this last year in the ville. I am planning to enjoy it extensively.

You can take the boy out of the town, but you can't take the town out of the boy

2008-08-30T18:16:00.003-05:00

Anyhow, it's been a while, but the fact is that now I am back in class and between the moving in, starting classes and first-week partying it's hard to sit down and write. For one of my classes though I am required to actually start a new blog; a decent one, a real one. Not this constant rambling thing that this is. It should develop an audience and have a specific theme for the writing. That sounds like a dream to me, but trying to figure out what to write about is sort of driving me insane. This is more or less an apologetic post to the few who read this, because I will be neglecting this blog a little bit to focus my attention on the one that is actually being graded. I will post the link as soon as I have it. If you have any ideas on what I could write about, please don't hesitate to tell me.

On another note, I am loving Gainesville too much. I thought the sadness of leaving Bogota would last longer but so far so good. This is where I want to be.

Cheers

Why it is easier to ruin it

2008-08-18T13:35:00.004-05:00

When something is really good and we know we have to give it up, we try to ruin it. It is a self-defense mechanism, so that amazing things become torture with no reason whatsoever. Just so it is easier to let go. When I had to leave Paris, I started thinking about everything I hated about that city, but it wasn't much. I magnified it though, remembering the exhuberant prices, the smelly subway, the cold mornings, the ugly parisian looks... later, when I got back to Gainesville, I remembered the good things again, and smiled.

Now it is different to remember bad things to try to trump the sadness, than to sabotage something good just because it has a deadline. That is what I try to do every time in Bogota. I think about everything I don't like about the city, the people, the life in general... and the truth is I love it. But loving it has always made leaving so much harder, that I decided to keep it neutral; to love it as a vacation spot. To never date someone here that I like too much nor find a job that I would love, nor visit my friend's universities to see if I would like them better. Having a double life means developing an ability to let go. I have it... I need to become pesimistic a few days before it's over simply to make it easier. I simply need to think that where I'm going is always better that the place i've left behind.

Fake little girl

2008-08-13T10:52:00.004-05:00

It was quite a shock to me when I found out through CNN, that the adorable Chinese girl that had sang the host's national anthem was indeed, not the girl who had sang it. The very cute girl was lip-syncing at Beijing's "Bird's Nest" stadium; the real singer's face was deemed "not suitable."

Ok so all through the opening ceremony of the Olympics I had been teared eyed. And this little girl made me feel like adopting her; I am sure her parents don't want her anyway. But a fake?

This incident may indeed symbolize what is going on in China in a larger scope. The image they want to project to the world vs what is actually there. They want to show perfection by taking the voice of one girl and the face of another... couldn't they find a girl who could fit both roles or are they too picky with their own people? Anyways, as soon as this got out they made China look like liars, really. With something so incredibly unnecessary! How about all those things that do actually matter? For how long can they hide them? China may be a growing super power but its people remain oppressed and it is still a very developing nation.

The sickness of aging

2008-08-11T15:26:00.003-05:00

With age we get to become more cautious. More cautious about our feelings, because we know what it is like to be hurt. More cautious about what we say, because social decency is engraved in our minds; more cautious about our decisions, because they begin to have consequences... in the end the carelessness of youth begins to weight on our backs.

Our heart begins to be something we don't hand out easily. We stop taking risks. We become calculating; we are careful with each step, we stop trusting people. We realize that there are many ways to avoid crying. We allow opportunities to just pass us by because they are too good to be true. We become cynical and abandon the idealism of other days. We begin to settle for what is comfortable instead of what is magical.

That is why I don't want to grow up. I don't... I have dreams and will never let them die, and I will always believe in the true goodness of people. In my career, I will get to see horrible things, depressing things, senseless wars and ridiculous fanaticism for shallow ideals. I know this. But let's stick to our grace shall we? If we see something that is worth fighting for, for crying out loud, fight for it. Don't let it get away. Because there are very good things in this world, but they are few, and we need to know how to recognize an unbelievable thing when we see it.

"Y’see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little…push. - The Joker

2008-08-10T22:06:00.003-05:00

So Heath Ledger is dead and that makes watching the new Batman movie eerie, morose yet exciting in a sick way. All I was thinking as I watched this ridiculously good performance was "This man drove himself crazy to truly fit himself into this role."

And it made me start thinking... how thick is the line between depressed and insane? How quickly can our mind drive us to make irreversible decisions?

The movie was fantastic. But the cost of it was the life of a talented actor. Many writers, artists, musicians, and overall artistic geniuses are what some people call eccentric, and to some, this eccentricity drove them to their death. When I was in my preteen years I truly believed that in order to become an amazing writer I was going to have to start seeing a shrink.

Overall, a great movie, that I hadn't seen before because I didn't feel like waiting in line too much. I waited 'til a lot of the fuss had died down. It was my brother's fourth time seeing it.

"How come this movie keeps being awesome?" he asked, when the credits rolled in.

"Is there anybody gonna litsen to my story?"

2008-08-06T10:37:00.002-05:00

I am oh so happy... or in more simple words, I love the world!!! jajaja ok too much of an inside joke. Anyways, I only have a week and a half left working for Semana, surrounded by some of the most fascinating peopleI have ever met. Eduardo Arias, the magazine's cultural editor, took me in as his young, music-learning mentee, and has therefore brought me many CD's when he walks in the door with a picturesque hat and mochilas. I upload them as I work and hence have some amazing music added to my repertoire. Right now I'm uploading all of The Beatles discography.

Alfonso Cuellar I oficially named my mentor. He is the Editor in Chief of this amazing medium, he loves American politics as much as I do, and he is also strangely bilingual like me. Hence, I aspire to someday be like this man and I am very happy I got to meet him.

Yesterday, the magazine's director, Alejandro Santos, asked me if I would consider returning to work here after I graduate in... one and a half years! Who knows, maybe I will... in any case, it's a good thing to know you are wanted after graduation and not have an existential crisis of not getting a post-graduation job.

To chill or not to chill

2008-08-05T10:00:00.003-05:00

I am, by nature, a stressed out person. I obsess with my friends, school, guys, weight, traveling... in the end, many things that are supposed to be enjoyable can easily been made into a nightmare if enough thought and analysis is put into it. That's why I need yoga and to read regularly, to switch-off my brain with TV and to party in the weekends.

But for my desire to become more Zen, to fully appreciate this idea that happiness is a way of living and not a destination, I have found several blogs of people, not Buddhist monks nor self-help coaches, but just people, who have managed to make their day to day lives as enjoyable and happy as possible.

Zen Habits

Is the first and my favorite one. This is the one I would like to share now, in order to not overload with information. It's quite charming really, since this is a 35-year-old guy with many children and a weird habit of waking up at 4 a.m. It's a cool read.

I love la Candelaria

2008-08-04T17:24:00.004-05:00

And so it is... I am discovering my own city. I was born and lived here until the age of 13, and after that have spent practically every summer in its "cool" places. I usually club in wherever people are going, chill at country clubs and enjoy nice expensive restaurants. This is the life that I left here, of the city's elite and my bubbled-in friends (they are bubbled, yet still so amazing... how does that happen?) and recently I've been venturing a little bit out of my bubble.

I spent the weekend in a pretty cool house in the middle of Bogota's downtown, the old part of the city, with it's antique houses and universities, the great restaurants and random people. It is sad that I needed the help of foreigners to show me this city again, but usually an unaccustomed eye can see more beauty than the usual one.

I don't think I will describe it more, because I am not the best at doing this. For those of you who speak the beautiful Spanish tongue, this is for you. For those of you who don't, this is the one you need to read. Come visit.. trust me. I have met people from all over the world, yes, including Americans, living in this part of town... and oh, do they love it.

A google competitor.... finally

2008-08-01T16:19:00.002-05:00

Check out Cuil.
It's pretty awesome, it searches way more pages than Google, and the layout is fantastic. Ladies and gentlemen, the search engine of choice.

Some people disagree, that's fine. That's why I like having a blog.

Rambling

2008-07-31T19:51:00.002-05:00

This is necessary for me every once in a while... I don't do it often, but I probably should. Since this is a personal blog and not a professional one, I guess I can write my "thoughts on pretty much everything," that including my moral doubts and cultural clashes.

Today I felt torn, and it happens usually, between my Colombian morally conservative self and my wanna-be-European liberal views. It's a constant contradiction, and I begin to wonder whether innocence is a way of living or a born-into trait. Are those who remain innocent to many of life's most hideous things staying in a house of crystal? Are those who have known the world and experienced too much, lost, forgetting their morality in the first place, finding pleasure in everyday occurrences? Do they have a meaning or do they just wonder the world, trying to find themselves and with each walking step getting even more lost? Do they know what they want? Does knowing more and experiencing more show you what you want, but what if you know it in the first place? Will you lose your grace? innocence? emotional beauty? purity?

I'm quite attracted to purity. I believe in pure words and pure feelings, black and white morality, which becomes grey when there is no doctrine but one's own to guide the way. Is the superficial life a good one? Can a deep person connect to a shallow one in a level more than physical? Is there anything more than aesthetics? Does thinking too much automatically depress you? Are those who are happy those who decide to live in a purely shallow level? No desire to grow mentally and emotionally... is adventure in our heads or our bodies? Should we be trying to find a balance?

Right now I am stuck, not quite able to find myself. I know I am Colombian, I think as such in many ways, judging people quite often, realizing that most are not even worth knowing. I am also friendly but aloof, ready to stop. I find promiscuity to be disguting and social classes an unavoidable reality. I find beauty in many things and I enjoy partying, but I am constantly trying to find meaning to everything I do. I realize partying, for people in a country so screwed up, with no particular dreams or hopes, the every day life is what keeps us so happy. It is the enjoyment of good stable friendships and the kindness of strangers.

I know I am American. Hard to admit, yet true. I am quite cynical and I see people for their skin colour, I am acceptant of every realigion and type of person yet mantain my purely skeptical view. I am sometimes closeminded as to what truly happens in the world. and most of all, I am quite naive.

I am not European. I thought I was. I thought I could have similar views, taste for culture, of seeing the world, of being open-minded, of speaking various languages and like people for who they are in spite color, race, class, nationality... I dont have a taste for the exotic. Europeans search exotiqueness and they find it often in less developed countries, whether it be in Asia, Africa or South America. I share their love for good food and good wine and traveling, that is for sure. But the fact that it is acceptabale to live like an adolecsent up until your mid thirties is depressing to me, as well as libertine way of looking at love and lust, the lack of passion, the lack of flavor.

That's what they come searching for here, let them find it.

Trying to find oneself is not an easy thing. Sometimes I wake up feeling exitentential, like today, and so I write, and I think, and I speak way too much. I am also good at appreciating my very perfect life. Purpose? Nobody knows it yet. Happiness? It's a way of living, not a destination. Moral grounds? Love is love, hate is hate, no betrayals, no lies, no misconceptions and no corruption. This is something I hope stays with me no matter where I go, no matter who I meet, no matter how much I live, I am never going to lose that small part of myself that I finally got to find. Happily, I feel much more mature and stable, much more of a complete person, than many who are older than me. Does age truly bring you wisdom or are those who are wise born with the trait., and those who enjoy swiming in ignorance doomed to drown in it?

La zona cafetera

2008-07-28T12:11:00.007-05:00

I thought I should write about my weekend, because sitting at the office right now, I can't concentrate at all. Is it the extreme exhaustion? Or the fact that it was such an amazing trip that in my head I'm still there? Who knows... but let's write.

The troopers: Jens, a German guy I met here in Bogota, Torsten, his visiting friend, Cami, my best friend, and well, me.

Destination: The Coffee Zone.

Mode of Transportation: Flota, translating to "very-dangerous-bus"

Day 1.

We left on Thursday at 3:30 in the afternoon, and enjoyed a nine-hour bus ride! It was quite decent though, since we sat in the front, the chairs were very nice and comfortable, and the driver, a careful one. The German guys had wanted to go by plane, but the only way Cami could come on the trip was if we took the bus, and it was a fantastic idea. The view of the mountains, the sky, the crops, was so beautiful it became almost romantic. We got to Armenia at around midnight, having slept slightly and being extremely excited. There was a foreshadowing of it being a quite fantastic weekend.

Casa Jardin Zen
What made our short trip a memorable one was our decision to change where we spent the night on each night. We arrived to the Casa Jardin Zen pretty late, but were so awed by its beauty that we stayed up for a while, just going up and down the stairs, trying unsuccessfully to go outside, checking out all the rooms and their unique design... Cami and I went to sleep while the German boys went to a nearby and empty bar to look for a mojito.

Oh wait. Before going to sleep we did definetely get attacked by a huge spider... ok not attacked, but it was freaking us out as much as possible just by crawling on the other side of the room. It crawled out the balcony, and we were happy. Already in bed cami tickled me in a spider kind of way and my reflex was to smack her in the arm, quite hard I must say.

Sorry Cami, I really don't like spiders.

Day 2

I got woken up by the crowing of a rooster at... nine? Maybe it was a hangover rooster who woke up to late to crow... who knows. It was still a wonderful way to wake up. Cami and I started taking pictures of our magnificent view from our room in the second floor. Mountains... again, as green as they could get. It was quite the honeymoon sweet. We went down to wake up the guys and have some breakfeast. The owner of the house, who is called "La Mona", was certainly mad at us for being so loud the night before, but we won her over with our charm and she ended up helping us quite a bit. After taking a shower in a bathroom where anyone in the living room could see me with my head full of foam, we left, on to negotiate a day with a cab driver to he would take is to the Valle de Cocora.

El Valle

It took us some time to get up there, but once we did, it was oh-so worth it. The palm trees are called "palmas de cera" and they are the Colombian national tree. There are only six species in existence, five are in Colombia, and four in this valley. It is really one of the most beautiful landscapes I've ever seen. Right there we ate some trout that had been fished in the nearby river, with patacones., Yuuuum. good stuff. Then the driver took us to where we would be staying our second night, The Hippie Hilton. And no, I'm not kidding. This was the name.

Hippie Hilton

Georgio, the owner, welcomed us with a big hug and many crazy things, including his museum of meteorites and other archeological discoveries, and the bed where Simon Bolivar spent a couple of nights. He also had a couple of snakes, the mice to feed them, and a litter of newborn golden retrievers. Our sort-of-tent was one of many, each of them with a different theme. One resembled and amazon-type cabin, the other, a trailer, and there was one filled with glow-in-the-dark stickers. Ours, was decorated with records and Beatles posters, had a hammock, a water bed, a rustic kitchen and a small fridge. The toilet was separated from the rest of the room only by a piece of cloth. The shower was outside, and it only reached up to the shoulders. The river, only steps away, could lull us into sleep. After hanging out for a while in this very trippy place, we went to the nearby town of Salento to buy ourselves some dinner. We arrived to this town in a small bus, walked around, had some beers in the town square, and went to a very Colombian slaughter house to get our well-deserved-dead cow. After waiting a long time for a bus, we got back to the Hilton, Jens marinated the beef while Torsten started the fire and Cami and I just took pictures. :) The night was awesome, a little cold but quite sureal.

Day 3

El Parque del Cafe
After some laughs while each of one took showers and the others attempted to take pictures, we decided to go back to Armenia to the bus terminal, so we could get to El Parque Del Cafe. When we finally got there we decided we didn't want to go on any attractions, since we know that there are far better ones in other parts of the world, but the coffee experience was well needed. We went on the cable car up and down, walked some trails through bamboos and coffee plants, Torsten got bit by humongous ants and Cami and I tried to teach them about rural legends. Then we had lunch at a very-touristic-therefore-not-so-good place where Jens made Torsten eat a Bandeja Paisa. It is a Colombian dish, typical from the area, that has beans, ground beef, pork, sausage, rice etc. Torsten hated it.

Canopy
After such a suculent lunch we went to do Canopy, and we had a great time climbing up trees (with ladders jaja) and then launching of with pulleys to the next tree. A Tarzan-like experience, giving un a great view of plaintain crops and bamboo dwellings. It took and hour. We were exhausted. We had FUN.

Delirio

Our last stay in another century. We arrived to this huge hacienda, filled with antiques and paintings, with a nice pool and too many rooms. After taking a dip in the pool we got ready and set off to Montenegro for a night of adventuuureee. After looking for a decent place to eat, a little beggar kid took us to a decent place where we ate some more trucha. After this, we went off to find a party spot. Everyone in this little town stared at us, since well, we were speaking in English and Jens is probably the blondest person many of them had ever seen. We went inside a small club, had some drinks, Cami and Torsten got attacked by the local people (With kindness I must say.. many of them wondering where we were from and if they wanted to spend the night at their house) and after not much more of this we took a cab back to the delirio. Then, we sat by the pool, looked at the stars, talked for a couple of hours and went to sleep in our huge rooms, of the huge, fancy house, that was certainly haunted.

Day 4
The last day of our trip. We had a good breakfeast in Delirio's huge dining room, and then headed off to Armenia to meet with Jens' mentor and his very mexican wife. They are quite a fantastic couple, and I noticed how happy they were, and how long they had been together. I wish that fate for each and every one of us. We had ajiaco for lunch with the same fantastic view that we had the first day from the Casa Jardin Zen. Then it was time for us to go on the bus, this trip only taking 6 hours, because our driver was a little deranged. It seemed longer though, because of our lack of AC. Good trip, good times.

I curse Murphy's Law

2008-07-17T15:47:00.002-05:00

So I decided to leave.

For the past month I have been pondering, asking people for advice, and pretty much just driving myself insane trying to decide whether I should stay in Bogota in this pretty cool internship that I am at, or go back to the "ville" to study my ass off. I decided that I am a student and I should act as such, since I have the rest of my life to be in an office working. So I will be back in the small Gainesville, enjoying Gator football (and my last chance at understanding the game before I graduate), campaigning for Obama, even though I cannot vote, and having some crazy adventures.

So thanks to those who helped me make my decision. In the end it was a matter of where would I be learning more. In Semana I had a position I would like to have when I graduate and become a full-time employee. But I wasn't going to be doing anything journalistic, nor learning any new skills. And I only have three semesters at most at the ville. So I shall go back, and enjoy the anonymous life of a poor college student and party-up.

Be ready.

Articles that seem interesting

2008-06-20T16:28:00.003-05:00

For those of us not that internet savy, or probably still naive regarding the advertisement business, the shocking horror of facebook ads talking straight to us makes us feel paranoid. I had this discussion with my friend Cami the other day, where we both found that all the ads popping up among our newsfeeds were strangely appealing. I got ads about publishing writing, about health, about rock, or art... all things that interest me. I started thinking that Facebook had either gone cool, or there is a way that some big brother somewhere actually knows what i'm interested in and decided to share this knowledge with the Facebook staff.

Check out this article from the economist

That pretty much explains it... freaky....very freaky.

Bizarre Day

2008-05-25T00:08:00.002-05:00

The weirdness started when my brother and I walked up and down fancy stairs to get to the building's club house. Ready to work out, the cold and the constant light rain accompanied us all the way. It hasn't stopped yet, and yes, it is midnight.
Later in the morning, Colombia's Minister of Defense announced that Tirofijo, the FARCs main leader, was dead. He announced it in the middle of an interview, with no planning nor government back-up. He is said to have died in March of a heart attack, which to me is quite ironic. This terrorist, with once pure ideals of social equality and a fair government, wasn't killed in combat or by a military plot. He died of old age. That's how long this absurd war has been. To the point that those who started it are timing out and passing on the torch to their predecessors.
Then was the earthquake. A quick shook up of 5.5 in the richer scale that almost gave me a heart attack that would have put me in the same hell as Tirofijo. Maybe a level or two closer to the ground in Dante's inferno. It was long, and we panicked, and I ran under a door because they always told me in school that was the safest place. After the floor stopped moving and the books were left hesitant in the edge of their shelves, my mom told me, with a giggle,
"Andie, there are no door frames in this house,"
And she was right. The too modern apartment has those gigantic wooden doors that reach all the way up to the ceiling. And so I laughed, as my heart continued to pound, still to the rhythm of the seismic waves.
The epicenter wasn't that far away from Bogota, and around seven people died. I had never felt such a strong shaking of the ground.
And for the last occurrence, the lights have been out in my apartment building all night. They finally came back on, but it doesn't last long. It just seems like I'm going to wake up very very soon.

On writing a novel

2008-05-23T12:05:00.002-05:00

There are all types of opinions on writing. Some authors I admire, like Irene Nemirovsky or Mario Vargas LLosa studied literature and absorbed master pieces, dissecting them and creating prose styles of their own. My father recommended I didn't do this; Most people who study literature have an occult or sometimes quite evident aspiration of becoming authors themselves. But closely studying masters usually trumps the imagination, he says, and many become easily discouraged when they start idolizing classic writers and realize they will never compare.

I realize I will never be a master. It's not an aspiration and not even a distant dream. But I do want to write, and I don't want to stop myself from doing it because of pure fear of failure. If I dont start now, I don't know If I will ever be ready. I am pretty sure I will come up with a manuscript, show it to a couple of friends and put it on a shelf, together with that cute story I wrote when I was 12 that involved all of my friends and some serious drama. I found it the other day, and it made me nostalgic. I remembered when I wrote it. It took me a couple of weeks, but I was absorbed and ready. I hadn't thought about who may read it and whether people would like it. I wrote it because it was in me; I wrote it because I enjoyed the process.

So this summer I will write. Until now I have thought a love story, as corny as that sounds, because I know love, and it is the only intense feeling I feel qualified to write about. We are in a generation with no purpose of being, with a lack of passion for life, of life-and-death drama, so we are left to ponder about our senseless relationships that we are trying to dramatize enough to fill that void that plastic lives give to us. So when I write that love story, I will let people know. maybe, who knows. But at least I know i'll be trying.

Again... life pondering

2008-05-21T15:07:00.002-05:00

Coming back to Colombia would be the easy way out. That has always been clear to me, yet it is not until this summer that I have realized that I am not such a fan of what is comfortable.

Wine Class

2007-11-07T03:46:00.001-05:00

Soooooo I am too exhausted for my own good.... I still haven't figured out if it's the fact that I am running up and down metro stairs all day long of if it's the stress of not doing everything that I want to do. Maybe both.... who knows?

The fact is I am constantly tired yet I am never resting. If I am out for some reason and someone proposes something else to do, I'll do it. Without thinking twice. It is not my classes... they are not very demanding, at least for now. It's just this fact that I am staying only three months in Paris and have so, so much to do!

The wine class well, I started yesterday. It seemed quite entertaining to me... well not the beginning, in which our American teacher discussed the chemical properties of the grape, but the later part... in which we actually did tasting! Why am I in this class? No really, the teacher asked me as I clumsily walked in the door ten minutes late. My answer?

"I dont know anything about wine!" and it's true. Please praise me for my honesty because I can say that I have been in Paris for more than a month now, have drunk enough wine, but absolutely never know what I am drinking or how to choose it. It is more of a random luck thing, if the wine turns up to be decent or disgusting.

So we tried two white wines and two red. I felt somehow awkward, because everyone was helping to describe the taste of this wine (which of course you have to sip in a fish-like manner and then spit out in a cow-like one) as fruity, ashy, some people felt the cherries, the raspberries, the cinnamon, the spices, all of this in... fermented grape! Now I knew what they meant when they said acidic, or dry, strong and fruity... but the finding of other fruits in this one seems like a stretch to me. It was here when I simply swallowed the wine.

But no... I spat enough out to assure I wouldn't be drunk in class! It was quite fantastic and then four of us decided to go have dinner close by, in front of a magnificent church which we couldn't quite define what architectural period it had been built on, (Trying to apply my architectural history of Paris class-skills people), to try our new wine tasking skills.

Fun.

Tonight, Fables de La Fontaine at the Comedie Francaise.... I'll let you know how that goes.

Au revoir mes amis... Paris est vraiment fantastique!!!!!!!

Cambridge... or Harry Potter... who knows?

2007-11-02T14:37:00.000-05:00

Ok so I know I still haven't written from Paris... the reason for this is pretty obvious, you saw, the last entry I left blank... not on purpose really, simply because my feelings about my experience are so blurry an intangible, such an indescribable mix, that nothing but a blank screen is what results of my futile attempts to write... it has been a month... a month of exhaustion... in every way.. good and bad, just nothing and everything like I had imagined. Just a sad realization that 3 months is too awkward of a time lapse to stay in a place, anywhere, let alone Paris.

But this entry shall be about Cambridge... why? Well cause I am in it right now, it seems appropriate, and for some reason when I actually travel and not stay long in a place I can better look at it with some sort of perspective.

Why am I here? I mean I can guess what you are thinking, so many amazing , huge cities, so much to see and do in Europe, why the hell Cambridge?

I can start by saying Zhiping. This is a fantastic girl I met in Cannes, she is a 20-year-old Singaporean and just finished her law degree here, in Cambridge. Now she is taking a sabbatical, by doing a masters degree in social anthropology! Not dumb this girl... but the thing is she also seems to share this love of everything that I have for life: this curiosity and need to know things, and to love history and art and music... everything! We are very similar, and that is why with only two weeks of knowing her I still felt comfortable with coming and visiting, after she had invited me of course.

I got here on Halloween but felt so exhausted after the plane, and three-hour bus ride that we simply went to bed. It was yesterday that she took me around this amazing university, and I got a gist of how it works...

You belong to a college, but it had nothing to do with what you are studying. Cambridge is pretty much a huge congregation of 30 colleges, and your admission decision lays in the hands of only that college. There is no applying to one, getting rejected and then trying for another.
We walked along all the most famous colleges, some of them known for their "poshness" like Trinity, others for their leftist ways (like Kings). Well the history if the College you can actually find in Wikipidia, probably with better accuracy than me. So go ahead and do that, while I go back to talking about my trip.

Ok!!! I have to tell you about the lawn!!! Each college is pretty much set-up around a courtyard, with a perfect clean-cut grass that maintains its state of purity by being off limits to students. Only "fellows" (which means professors as far as I understood) can step on this grass and cut diagonally through the college. All the rest are bound to watch them do it, and cry internally.... this is one of the many crazy traditions that in the end make the whole Cambridge experience something taken out of another century.

The formal dinner! Once a week your college will have a formal, in the huge, old dinning hall that all of them have. High ceilings, thick wooden doors, absurdly large tables. These kids dress up (dresses for girls, suits and ties for boys) wear a gown on top, and look fabulous once a week to sit down and have a three course meal. Since Zhipping is a graduate student I got to sit in one of the first two tables, close to the mistress (the dean, sort of) who gives a speech in Latin before a gong sounds and everyone starts to eat. Pretty fantastic.

The Orchard! We walked around 45 minutes through long grass and angry cows to get to this place. It is a sort of teahouse with its many tables all placed outside in an orchard. This is where Rupert Brooke, Virginia Wolf, Sylvia Plath, Ted Hughes amongst many others sat down to drink tea, converse and write poetry.

Rupert Brooke:

"If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a foreign field that is forever England."

oh how overwhelming

2007-10-16T18:00:00.000-05:00

Cannes

2007-10-09T18:28:00.000-05:00

Well I suppose this is where it starts. The splurge and desire to write come to me in unexpected moments, like in the metro, or... in a modern art museum (le centre pompidue let me be clear...) while turning my head trying to decipher a painting by Man Ray.

It has been a while... as a matter of fact, almost a month, since I left Madrid. It was then that I stopped writing... not sure why. Maybe because I got a diary, you know, those dangerously exposing little things that can become a mesh of feelings simply because they are private. So a blog seems better to write more objective, worth-while experiences, more than the whole feeling splurging situation.

Anyways, je suis a Paris! and let me say.... in complete awe.
But the French adventure didn't start at its capital but rather in its beautiful Mediterranean coast.

The French Riviera... oh my. I am from the tropic, I know. I have seem quite some beaches in my lifetime. But there was something about this beach in particular, actually something about the city of Cannes, that just seemed dreamlike, rustic yet with a modern touch. Maybe it had to do with the Regatta that was going on... the many sailboats cruising over the silver water at dusk. The scene seemed pulled out of an old romantic movie and the feeling of wanting to pull out and grab one of the sailboats so it would continue navigating on the palm of your hand made the delirious scene quite more dreamlike.

But ok... forget the beach. Let's go back to how on earth can I justify my sojourn in Cannes. I was studying French.... studying! I promise! Although the nights out where not bad either... but! the pure revision of the basic grammar I had basically forgotten during summer were just what I needed.

The College International de Cannes.... what can I say? perfect... but for two weeks. There is no way on earth I could stay there for a semester! The ambiance is wonderful I mean... most of its students live in the dorms which are in the same college... it is practically on the beach... the campus is full of palm trees and a friendly staff.... what else could you ask for?

Cannes is quite the vacationing city I must say. The streets are magnificent, the beach well... I already talked about that. The restaurants, the nightlife, the boats!!! All of it... dreamlike and fantastic. But at the end I was already craving Paris... the whole college international situation, eating three meals a day in the cafeteria, only socializing with other international students... well.. that just catalyzes the whole cycle of isolation and lack of immersion in the French culture. Not something I enjoy particularly.

Anyways... I met great people, had a great time, and saw the town I am going to live in when I take my year off to write my novel.
Dont laugh; it will happen.

It is Mougin... and gosh did I fall in love with it. It's little streets barely able to squeeze in two people at a time, hiding antique stores and painting shops behind its grey-stoned walls. It is where Picasso lived during most of his life, when Franco was either killing or expatriating every artist in Spain. I could see why he chose this as a retreat. To reach it is quite a climb... not so long but oh so steep! And it seems like one is going nowhere, since the road has no sidewalk and eveything is purely residential... where the elite of the Cote d'Azur live I must say, since the view of the sea, and Cannes, is just magnificent.

Anyways.... it was inspiring and I know I will return. It is just one of those things....

I will leave the Paris blog for tomorrow... since I am tired and there are oh so many things to see and do!!!

too sad

2007-08-31T14:05:00.000-05:00

Hopefully I should a couple of more little articles coming in this weekend.... SADLY i just finished my last day at the paper... gosh... i think I am going to cry.... I loved it too much... sniff..........right now I am about to fall asleep on my desk so I will write about my feelings of longing when I am in a better state of alert....

cheers

2007-08-27T12:02:00.000-05:00

The Journalistic profession:
The perks of late hours, extreme doses of caffeine and excentric coworkers is no news to those who wish to persue the profession. Yet it is one thing to hear about it, and another to actually inmerse yourself in it. With that in mind, I can sum up the mission of reporters: to give readers a new perspective on an issue, by inmersing them on whatever subject the article is dealing with. It is allowing them to see the world through the eyes of someone else, for the time it takes to read 1000 words. In the end the job is a public service; it is not for money but for the sake of spreading knowledge and truth. Yes it sounds noble and great, and it is indeed. Some newspapers are bullshit, I know, but El Pais is as good as it gets.
I loved my internship, in spite of feeling inexperienced, foreign and downright lost most of the time, I can honestly say that I have learned more in a month working at this newspaper than the two years I have been in school. Then again, that tends to be the case in this profession.
This is my last week, and you know, that time to start preparing the answers to the questions my parents will surely ask like....
Did I learn anything?
Is this really what I want to do?
Am I any good?
Did I make any good connections?
Did I gain a lot of weight?
Well, to answer these questions in order and controlling my chain of thoughts (that tends to be hard for me) I will do them by order, you know, like a sixt grade research paper.
1. Did I learn anything... well, I think I already answered that question. Between crazy people camping out in front of Ikea, seeing the president of Spain, running in downtown Madrid in search of a computer, adopted dogs, eathquake-affected peruvians crying, monkeys spitting at fotographers, urbanization laws in the city of madrid, the obsolete notion of press conferences, bullshit politicians, crazy editors, agencies, a complete metro system, chinese thermometers, an awesome layout program, Indian dances, crazy journalists, time diferences, exagerated health complaints, retina problems.... well, I think I learned. I learned a lot, probably too much, and I will have a bitter feeling when I look back to these days and I realize I didnt take as much advantage of them as I could have. Did it give me confidence? Hell yes, I could not work in a better place... my only problem? I def was not ready for it, and I could have given a better-lasting impression if I had done this a year from now, or after college. I have a feeling I will come back though.
2. Is it really what I want to do... well... it's too hard to decide right now. Writing, definetely, not even an option. Journalism, no doubt about it. A huge, daily newspaper, well... that might change. Although I absolutely love it; I love the rush, I love the adrenaline, I love the writing, I HATE the hours. I cannot get to my house at 11 p.m ever day... it is too absurd for me. Maybe I can get used to it, maybe I can learn to wake up early in the morning and take advantage of the day in a diferent manner.... well, I guess I still have time to think about it. :)
3. I still dont know if I am any good... I dont think I would be the best judge of that. I just know that I try and that I get edited a lot and eventually published... if that is any good? Well awesome. If not, well... I am still going to do it. So sorry for those who read newspapers.
4. Connections... I dont know. I am socially akward... but I will do my best to keep in touch at least with the editors that I met to make sure they remember me in the future.
5. Weight... yes. For those of you who know me and thought I could never be fat well.... I am. I cant fit in the clothes I brought and that is a problem because i have no money nor space in my bag to get bigger clothes... ill just stop eating I guess.

Anyways, I needed to write. I realized that this language-learning thing is complicated... it's like a balance that can only have certain things on each side of it, and the weight gets shifted from one side to the other. The more I know english, the less I know spanish, and vice versa. French will just completely kill the balance but, oh well. I am not planning on writing profesionally in that language.

Finally, to whomever reads all of this, you deserve a prize. Let me know of your accomplishment and I will see that you are rewarded.
Cheers

It has been a while

2007-08-27T11:25:00.000-05:00

Ok so I oficially suck as a blogger... I def am not a blogger btw, this is just a way to keep some of you updated on my crap and to not have to send 20 the different links to the people who want to read my articles.

The reason for my lack of writing is not my lack of articles... it is just my lack of time. Yes, I have to take advantage of the fact that here I can actually write the same word three times in one sentence and noone will change it for a pretty synonym...
As for the newspaper, last week I was invited to the land of international section... that made me happy, althought the time diference made for some very angry people in Mexico who did not want to be disturbed at 6 a.m by some journalist from Spain... who does't even have the decency of sporting a Spanish accent... "are you aregentinian?" "sure, argentinian will do" jajajaja good stuff... sooo here are the two links to my articles... or well, the articles I slightly contributed to but I still get my name on them.

the hurricane one

the earthquake one

the modernist houses one

the photo gallery one

yes.... andrea is getting a nice portafolio here... although the days in which I have nothing to do get depressing as hell.... to me boredom=depression.

Indians and dogs

2007-08-17T12:13:00.000-05:00

Wohoooo ok so the good thing about writing about not-so-serious stuff is that my articles always have pictures.... and that just makes them more apealing... yes, people think like that. My article that got published yesterday was about the Indian celebration of the 60th anniversary of their independence from Great Britain... I was sitting in Plaza Mayor up to 12:00 a.m. trying to send the article that was too short originally, then I sent it to the wrong email, then I ran out of battery... jesus christ that was crazy.... and then I had to write an article on abandoned dogs and the people who adopt them... pretty dramatic I must say. So sorry if they are not that interesting to you, but hey, at least they have pretty pictures.

Indian one

dog one

there you go. Read them, be happy, be proud, and really admire the photographers.

well, good morning to you too

2007-08-14T03:57:00.001-05:00

my article about cellphones and the weird people who dont have them...

i like to stare at people in the metro

2007-08-13T18:30:00.000-05:00

but dont tell anyone... seriously, cause i claim to hate it... actually, i did, but it is fun to make up stories of people... who they are and where they are going and if they are secretly planning on stabbing me to steal my money. anyways... fun weekend, fun days... it should be a fun month... these past two weeks have gone bye too fast... i like my internship waaay too much... I really feel like I need to come back and do my master's degree at the newspaper's school, cause I feel like it's the place where I have to be.... lol i havent even been working there for two weeks and I already feel this way... jesus christ, i need to stop my tendency with quick infatuation... aaaanyways i went to an amusement park here in madrid... it caught my attention to see kids at 1 a.m in this park... and by kids i mean 3 year olds and babies..... spanish people are different, but i see the point. Why not have your baby have your same sleeping schedule? that way they wont wake u up at 5 am screaming for food.... makes sense!! well and today I had dinner with my father's gay friends who are AWESOME and took me to an AWESOME place... i know.. i am also awed at my extense vocabulary :) I should have an article going out tomorrow so I will keep you posted on that...anywaaaaays im tired. good night.

Clean up; you never know when you may have a polish girl sleeping over

2007-08-10T14:37:00.001-05:00

I know I should explain the title of the entry.... and write a detailed description of my wild and crazy adventures but seriously, I am too hung-over, I am still at work, (almost ten, people) and I havent eaten anything all freaking day... thank god that I went out last night and because of that I have no desire whatsoever of going out again.... i just want to sleeeeeeeep and well, eat first... i dont know what i would eat though.... ok let me see if my article is online today... yes it is!! I am one really happy camper.... you see, that was fun. Today, not that fun. I get too edited, my editor made me sit with a copy editor for like half an hour and she meticulously took apart my precious little artcile and re-arranged it in a way that makes me feel like a fraud by putting my name on the top, simply because it barely resembles what I originally wrote. Dude, I dont know if it is my lack of Spanish or lack of reporting or what, but this is awful!!! But I guess I knew this... by no means was I expecting to just breeze through this and just magically become in two days the writer and reporter that I want to be.... but this is the big league dude... the biggest... this is as high as I can get... and I feel like maybe I jumped to quickly into something that I am def not ready for... on the other hand it is an awesome experience, I am getting published in this amazing newspaper, and there is no way I wont get hired in another spanish-speaking newspaper after this... I just want to learn... actually.... i really do! hopefully the continuous slaps on the face will simply help as a way to becoming what I want to become... to build a thick shell... dude, I am young... (yes, you are the dude) I am oh so young! What I am realizing though is that this initial thrill of reporting may wear away quickly with the long hours and the continuous starvation.... I shall see where it takes me... for now, it is painful, it is hard, but I am as content as I could ever be.

red and green

2007-08-08T17:44:00.000-05:00

ok this is too cool

and yes... i have discovered how to put links in a blog :)

San Cayetano and his awesome flowers

2007-08-08T06:01:00.000-05:00

Ok so yesterday I encountered what people call religious mania... or supersticious mob... ok maybe there is nota word for it but seriously, this was funny. It so happens that August is the month for saint adoration in Madrid, and I was sent to cover this parade of San Cayetano that was going on downtown... very pretty, very cute, but old people get scary when it comes to adoring figurines... tradition says that at the end of the parade, you have to get a flower from the saints statue which has a bunch of them installed in its altar, so you are assured to have work during the year. Well, this tradition that sounds pretty gets pretty animalistic as people jump over the crowd to try to get one of these miracle flowers. Very cute... anyways, this time the article showed up in the newspaper but not on the Web page, contraty to yesterday. So you cant read it... I know, you are sad... you were really begging for an article on San Cayetano.... but oh well, I cant really help you....... lol........ have a good one.

update:
Im stupid and I found the link to my tiny tiny article... here it goes

pretty pissed

2007-08-07T04:50:00.000-05:00

so ok... my article was on the Web page but not on the actual newspaper!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yes, Andrea is pissed.... apparently a huge fire happened at around 11 when I had already left the newsroom.... dude.. what can be more important than people camping out in front of an Ikea??? pfff.... yes you are right.... NOTHING!!! these people have no sense of newsworthiness...... lol

I wont know you read my blog unless you leave a comment

2007-08-07T02:19:00.000-05:00

I dont care if you leave one or not... just stop telling me that you read this through other ways like facebook or msn or email... that is the point of this.... to avoid all the other ones!

UUUUU look!!! Another one, but an actual one! I wrote a decent sized article on my own people!!! Ok I got suuuper edited but hey... I am here to learn right?.... this is what happens when all the journalists are on vacation!! LOL

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/madrid/dias/cola/muebles/gratis/elpepuespmad/20070807elpmad_8/Tes

Hope it continues this way people!!! Ok I havent writen since Saturday... the weekend was a little slow... well I am by myself here and barely know anyone. On Saturday I slept most of the day because of the extreme exhaustion I had... I know... it had been three days... that's the same thing my father told me, but oh well. I was very very tired... not used to this working thing... at night I went out to eat with a british couple I met... super nice people!!! although we were equally lost when it came to choosing a good Spanish restaurant and then decent sized Spanish food... lol we had a good time... we went to the gay area in Madrid and it seemed pretty cool actually. On Sunday I started by going to El Prado museum, of which I only saw a third, because I am giving myself the liberty of seeing it by parts. Usually you would only have a day or so to see the museum so when you are already tired you cannot help but paying more attention to whatever scattered benches you find that to the paintings you are looking at. Since I stop at every single one, read the little description, and then stare, leaning my head to the right til the point where the painting doesn't make sense anymore I decided to visit it several times and see and pay attention to every single corner. Yes, I am a geek, but that is one of the reasons why most of you love me. Anyways, then I walked around downtown, saw La Plaza Mayor, La Gran Via, etc etc. I ate lunch at this quaint little restaurant in the corner of the plaza and saw this American guy go insane not sure for what reason... I couldn't help but laugh as I saw him yell at the top of his lungs to this waiter that 2 seconds ago he had tried to beat up... I tend to laugh in unlikely situations... anyways THE BEST PAELLA OF MY LIFE!!! It was awesome... if I ever remember the name of the place I will recomend it to you.

Well, it is now time for me to go to work....

Cheers my friends,

another one

2007-08-04T07:52:00.000-05:00

waaaaaaaaaa i thought this was just going to be a little thing in a bigger article but CHECK IT OUT!!!!!! wohoooooo i got another one.... ok people, i'm too freaking excited
http://www.elpais.com/articulo/madrid/Bogota/Colombia/puente/llegar/paradas/TransMilenio/elpepuespmad/20070804elpmad_7/Tes

Article bitches

2007-08-04T04:58:00.000-05:00

Check it ouuuuuuuuttttttttttttttt Andrea gets her name in El Pais after three days of being there.... HELL YEAH!!!!! oh and let me tell you the story about the picture.... the boy I interviewed, Dawid, had taken well, some of the first pictures with the president. I dont know why on this earth I asked him to email them to me, cause welk duh we have pro photographers and this pictures were posed and what not... i dont know why i did it... well the fact is the photographer didnt go to the outside pool and we def needed a picture of the outside pool!! and this kid did send me his pictures so.... voila!!!! andrea saved the day!!!!! the polish kid ended up in the newspaper and I ended up with some points cause i got the freakin picture they were missing....... YAY!!!!!!

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/madrid/Mama/paso/presidente/elpepuespmad/20070804elpmad_2/Tes

My editor ( a woman) has truly hairy armpits

2007-08-03T13:15:00.000-05:00

yes she doooooes......... between that chic, european, underarm hairstyle and the thick-ass Spanish accent (and by that I mean Spanish from Spain that is sometimes incomprehensible to my Colombian head) its really hard to concentrate on whatever it is she is saying. So until now, my boss thinks I am stupid. Hey, at least I got to do something today! After my first day of desperation because the only person who knew I would be doing an internship here is on vacation (together with half of the journalists), I am actually being somehow acknowledged and co-wrote an article today!!! Yayyy and I got to see Spain's president of Government (and yes that is the title cause the country has a monarchy) I went to a salt water pool in a small town in the outskirts of Madrid... it was cool cause I got to lay out and go to the pool as I interviewed the people that were there. I went with another girl (ok she´s 28 but I swear she looks 22) and her boyfriend who tagged along... they are both italian and the best looking people I have met yet. I think I'm in the wrong country ;) jiji aaaanyways it was awesome... I even got harassed by one of the president's security guys... lol... cause the official press conference was inside and our colleague had already been in there... anywaaays it was fun. I am oficially black because of how much I tanned so yeah... change of race for me... anyways I had to come back, type-up the story with the italian girl and its almost 9:00 p.m and I am still waiting for it to be layed out so I can go hooome and then out. YAY! UUUU i also helped with another article and that was fun.... I hope this keeps going... cause I feel that it is going to be an awesome and stressful month. Ooooo today I woke up and found a broken vase... and a broken statue... in the apartment where I am staying. Ooo ok I live with a friend of my parents. One of those proper colombian ladies that would kill herself before having a man in her house that wears white socks... anyways i thought I might get blammed for all this braking of stuff but then I saw her shoes next to the stuff... and I laughed my ass off... the woman had gotten back home drunk and broken everything in her path... hilarious. Dudddeeee its nine and I'm still here.... ok I think I'm going to limit my bloggin by writing in Spanish.....pffffff
Cheers

random

2007-08-01T10:16:00.001-05:00

Look look! My dad is in a picture in the newspaper that I started working on today.... coincidence? maaaaaaaaybe

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/sociedad/Grupo/PRISA/culmina/compra/mayor/cadena/radio/Chile/elpepuint/20070801elpepisoc_12/Tes

First time in a long time (Now from Madrid)

2007-08-01T09:56:00.000-05:00

Well... this idea of daily blogging went straight out the window the moment I decided to stop writing for a little over a year... inconsistency! That is my curse and I have learned to live with it. I am starting a new phase of my life though, something most people would call an adventure. In one sentence and to sum-it-up nicely, after completing a month of an internship in Madrid (where I am at right this second) I will continue to live a semester in Paris... now this could be scary, yes, but I am assuming that nothing is scarier than living alone in the US so it should all be a breeze.

I am going to copy paste a blog entry I made yesterday...

"I arrived on Sunday, super jetlaged but that wore off just fine, ready for my month-long adventure. I don't think I have ever travelled by myself, and lived completely by myself, in my 20 years of age, but it is bound to be an experience to remember. I happened to arrive in the hottest month of the year, and also the time when most Madrileños go off on vacations. The exodus is quite big and the city is as empty as it gets. Since I start work tomorrow (pretty nervous about that) I decided to do some exploring around my area today, as well as getting to know the metro system and what not. Thank God I know Spanish because that does take a lot of pressure of simply walking around aimleslly... the highlight of my day though was the Van Gogh exposition at the Thyssen museum... for those of you who are going to Madrid or simply passing by, please make sure to check it out. It is only 5 euros and definetely worth your time. The paintings are a selection of the artist's last paintings after leaving the mental asylum and before killing himself. He was staying at a French village not too far away from Paris, and painted more than one painting a day during this short period of time... as if though he knew very clearly that his days were numbered!! anyways.. the collection is captivating and I truly recomend it. For now, I can say I dont know anything or anyone in Madrid, so if you have any suggestions please, do not hesistate in giving them to me! I would be more than happy to do something not that conventional.
Cheers"

Well right now I am actually at my office... bored as hell!! I have had nothing to do all day but read every newspaper on earth and well... re-start my blogging.... sooo I am sure I will be posting this somewhere... for whomever is interested in reading it... for now I will limit myself to gossip on newspaper life and the eventual reporting that I expect to be doing... anytime now...

found this on facebook....pretty cute

2006-09-29T21:43:00.000-05:00

You know you're Colombian if...

-You dunk cheese in your coffee or chocolate.
-There's at least 2 Chivas bus figurines somewhere in your house.
-Whenyou can make a party out of anything.
-Your parents bring back lots of bocadillo after a trip to Colombia.
-You can tell where a Colombian is from just by the way they talk after 2 seconds.
-There's one unopened bottle of Aguardiente in your dad's liquor cabinet reserved for a "special occasion", but it hasn't been touched in years.
-You think cumbias are the ultimate dance music.
-You get pissed if somebody calls you mexcian and promptly correct them.
-You get mad when you see "Colombia" misspelled as "Columbia".
-When your listening to salsa andyou find yourself banging on anything from your table, steering wheel, lap, etc.
-You know Colombian girls are way better looking than the girls in L.A.
-You come home at 2 in the morning to find your dad in the living room listening to Vallenatos.
-You're good looking.
-Family parties go until 5am
-Your grandma taught all your aunts and mom to cook and they all cook the same.
-When your family makes ajiaco, a given number of residents come over.
-When a relative makes ajiaco, you go over to their house.
-Not only do you have a Colombian soccer jersey, but also the jersey of the local team your family supports (Millionarios, Santa Fe, Nacional, Junior, etc)
-You have more than two last names.
-People call you a drugdealer and you are not insulted.
-There's at least three bricks of panela in the pantry at any given moment.
-You know at least one guy named "Jairo."
-Your moms has beaten you with the correa or chancleta
-Te encanta el guaro
-You know exactly where you were and what you were doing when Andres Escobar scored against his own team.
-No puedes desayunar sin arepa o chocolatico!
-Wenever theres a family get-to-gether the first on the invitation list are a couple of bottles of aguardiente.
-When you have have at least one pulsera of Colombia.
-At a family party you find your drunk uncle playing his imaginery accordian to a vallenato
-You learn to dance salsa before you learn how to walk
-You get extremely mad whenyou hear a Colombian song changed into a bachata by some dominicans
-You carry around Colombian money for goodluck
-You had sleepless nights because of la llorona
-You do la vendicion weneveryou pass a church
-Whenyou know the names of all the Colombian soccer players bu tyou have problems remember the names ofyour classmates
-Theres at least one Colombian flag around your house somehwere.
-You flip out when someone talks bad about Colombia.
-Whenyou always find yourself coloring things yellow-blue-red to make it look Colombian.
-When you have dedicated a vallenato to someone.
-The only thing your really sure about your future is your getting married to a Colombian.
-Hijueputa is your most used word

Salt city

2006-09-14T00:20:00.000-05:00

Im going to start posting here whatever I write for my creative writing class... I should see how much I improve.

Andrea Alarcon

Writing exercise #1

09/11/2006

Inspiration: picture #4

The Salt City

The legendary Salt city; I had finally reached it after long days of exhausting trailing through the Greek-Mediterranean coast. The architectural wonder radiated in front of my eyes partly because of the halo surrounding it, partly because of the glistening of the mineral under the burning sun. In midst of my haze and I found a little soda shop where I planned on easing the intense thirst that had invaded my throat. As I waited for my drink, I curiously grazed the wall with the tip of my finger and brought it to my tongue. “The structure is old. The saline taste is barely there anymore” said a very old man who was crouched in the dusty corner. His wrinkles were accentuated by white powder, and his gaze was full of blindness. “Where are you from?” He continued to ask. The fact that I was so obviously foreign, even to a blind man, added my flustering to an already unbearable heat. “I know you are a stranger because of the acidity of your heart, and the need to alkalinize it. That’s why you are here.” I took my cola and quickly strolled out of the magazi. Tasting the walls…that was what had given me away. Not my acid heart, which I was sure not even him could see. “Lucky guess” I thought. “I am sure I am not the first to come here in search of equilibrium.”

Even if the saline taste had left the walls the smell certainly impregnated the atmosphere. I felt like I was swimming in the open sea and with a clumsy movement I had snorted a string of salt water into my nose. It was desert dry in spite of its closeness to the ocean, and the thirst would not leave me no matter how many times I gorged something along the way. The salt was everywhere: the wrinkles of old men, the sugar coating of the pastries, the spaces between my toes, the mustaches of the merchants, the outlines of footprints, the rough barks of dying dogs. I could even devise it in the atmosphere if I stared really hard into emptiness. As I walked I continued to pass my hand over walls in a very subtle manner, and bringing it to my mouth in an attempt of tasting this wonder and proving its physicality. After a while my mouth tasted so salty I stopped and realized that the lack of immediate recognition was because my other senses had leveled the saltiness to the taste one; it smelled and looked so salty that my mouth had to make an extraordinary effort to distinguish the taste.

It was only when the sun began to set that I remembered the purpose of my being there in the first place. It held true what they said, that the thirst and the sun could bury you into the walls of the city, and like many, you would never leave. Many succumbed to the stupor and caught the sickness of amnesia; forgot where they came from and where they were going. I looked at my wrist, where I had the bracelet I had braided out of bright colored threads, it read “purpose: equilibrium, and return home, Cuba” that way I was sure I would never forget.

caminata estelar

2006-07-31T17:25:00.000-05:00

Just a little something I wrote....

Y entonces fue una noche para caminar. Una noche para liberar el espíritu debajo del manto de estrellas. Al mirar por la ventana, hacia un vacío de piedras, que organizadas forman el piso del jardín, podía divisar por entre las ramas del árbol casero los pocos cuerpos celestiales que se asomaban entre las hojas y sobrevivían el brillo de la ciudad. Fue necesario estirar un poco el cuello para buscar la solitaria luna, la cual es soltada de sus amigas estrellas entre las nubes y la luz artificial. Me dieron unas ganas increíbles de alcanzarla, para darle un beso de buenas noches y ver si una probadita de su miel de leche me devolvia el sueno que me hacia falta. Un chiflón entro por mi pijama y me la levanto hasta tal punto de dejarme desnuda ante la luz de la luna. En ese momento quede tan congelada bajo la luz azul y el sereno casi ardiente, que mi piel se convirtió en el mármol de una estatua griega. Después de esa tentacion y ese momento de silencio eterno, di mi primer paso hacia la acogida del cielo. El unico sonido que me acompanaba era el de las hojas del sauce bajo el viento, que parecia un dulce llanto de nino que esta siendo arrullado por su madre. Di un paso y me dio miedo. Por un instante olvidaba que estaba en un segundo piso e iba a pisar el aire. Pero después volvi a mirar a la luna y supe que esta vez la gravedad me perdonaria el descaro de enganarla y daria la vista gorda a mi escapada con la noche. Asi comenzo mi acenso, mi pie tocando el aire frio y desnudo, virgen a semejante peso pero nada menos resistente, y el segundo solto el marco de la ventana en búsqueda de su mellizo que ya violaba las leyes de la fisica. No lo pense mas y comencé mi larga caminata. Entre mas subia, mas queria besar a la luna, tan fresca, tan cremosa y deliciosamente pura. Un sentimiento de euforia comenzo a invadir mi cuerpo al encontrar las nubes y ver que el cielo ya era imune a la contaminación visual que proporciona la ciudad. Una estrella fugaz paso volando, agitando mi pelo con su velocidad, mientras yo observaba el manto que me acogia y me hacia sentir en mi hogar. Cogi una estrella y aunque senti una quemada infernal mi piel seguia intacta, entonces la meti en un bolsillo para que me mantuviese caliente. Brillaba con terquedad a través de la tela. Con eso segui subiendo, cada vez con menos aire pero mas esperanza, y con la gravedad recordandome que no me quedaba mucho tiempo porque la iban a despedir por no hacer bien su trabajo. Por fin alcanze a la gran senora de la noche, y con mucha dulzura le di un beso en uno de sus crateres. Fue la miel mas dulce que hubiese podido probar, y ahí me senti por fin feliz y con mucho mucho sueno. Agradeci a la noche por el momento mas romantico de mi vida y me senti feliz por haber roto las reglas que fueron hechas con el proposito de ser rotas.

2006-07-31T00:01:00.000-05:00

The complete lyrics to "Yo Ho, Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life For Me)"

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Maraud and embezzle and even hijack. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. We kindle and char, inflame and ignite. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! We burn up the city, we're really a fright. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs! Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. We're beggars and blighters and ne'er-do-well cads. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Aye! But we're loved by our mommies and dads! Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me. Yo Ho, Yo Ho! A pirate's life for me.

2006-06-04T15:16:00.000-05:00

morceau de chanson du jour

"I don't wanna do this anymore
I don't wanna be the reason why
Everytime I walk out the door
I see him die a little more inside
I don't wanna hurt him anymore
I don't wanna take away his life
I don't wanna be...
a murderer "-----

Rihanna

RENT

2006-05-28T23:24:00.000-05:00

Tonces... hoy fui a NYC, buena vaina, la pase rico, y porfin se acaba este fin de semana que ha sido de lo mas mamon por culpa de nadie mas que mia. Pasar las pasadas 48 horas pegada a mis ex-suegros a sido horrible.. me siguen y recuerdan de lo que no tengo y pude haber tenido, de lo que perdi y quiero, y de lo que amo y jamas dejare de amar... jajaja entonces eso causa la pregunta que mi mama hizo todo el dia... "que te pasa?" jaja y mi eterna respuesta "nada muti... nada" el caso... hoy llegamos a Manhattan, vimos RENT, que a mi me parecio muy chevere y me puso a pensar. Pero creo que a los Godos adultos no les parecio tan bacana la vaina... por homofobicos por raza y asexuales por edad... jaja. Despues de eso nos fuimos a pasear por madison avenue y la quinta tambien... y cuando logre convencer a los senores y hermano de coger el subway llegamos a China Town... ahi compramos como 10 bolsos coach, louis vuiton and what not, y acabamos la noche comiendo en un buen restaurante cuyo nombre no recuerdo en este momento.... buen dia, rindio, y supongo que por primera vez se lo que es tener el corazon roto...

RENT

2006-05-28T23:09:00.000-05:00

chanson du jour: antologia

SHAKIRA LYRICS

"Antologia"

para amarte necesito una razon
y es dificil creer que no exista
una mas que este amor
sobra tanto dentro
de este corazon
que a pesar de que dicen
que los anos son sabios
todavia se siente el dolor
porque todo el tiempo
que pase junto a ti
dejo tejido su hilo dentro de mi
y aprendi a quitarle al tiempo
los segundos tu mi hiciste
ver el cielo aun mas profundo junto
a ti creo que aumente mas de
3 kilos con tus tantos
dulces besos repartidos
dessarollaste mi sentido
del olfato y fue por ti que
aprendi a querer los gatos
despegaste del cemento
mis zapatos para escapar
los dos volando un rato.
pero olvidaste una final
instruccion porque aun
no se como vivir sin tu amor
y descubri lo que
significa una rosa
me ensenaste decir
mentiras piadosas
para poder a verte
a horas no adecuadas
y a reemplazar palabras
por miradas
y fue por ti que escribi mas
de 100 canciones
y hasta perdone tus
equivocaciones
y conoci mas de mil formas de besar
y fue por ti que descrubi
lo que es amar
lo que es amar..."

desahogada

2006-05-21T23:18:00.000-05:00

ok so a couple of things today.... first, I saw DaVinci code... a piece of advice for ya; if you havent read the book and are considering watching the movie, dont. Just read the book. And if you have read the book and are considering watching the movie, dont. Just read the book again and feel satiated knowing that its as good as it gets.

Second, today I was called Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which means bipolar in literary allusion form. This might, and just might ladies and gentlemen be true. But these so called mood swings that I have are not mood swings per se but different aspects of my personality, awakened by different incentives. I say everything thats on my mind (and by that I mean everything) so every time I get pissed, even a little, you'll know. My latest problem was my inability to be heard, or understood, comprehended, comprendida. I love to communicate and when the last part of the communication (that being the receptor) does not get what I am trying to say, i suffocate, i frustrate, i curse, i cry, i become simply enfuriated. I pout, i write IN CAPS TO EMPHASIZE MY STATE OF ANGER, i start to talk to myself. Something that I cannot stand in a human being, is someone not standing for him/her self. When someone allows me to treat them like shit in one of my hysterical attacks, not once but over and over again, and then blames me for being so mean, guess what.... U TOOK IT. I try my best to not hurt people. I really do. So i warn. I say, "please understand that I will hurt your feelings" but that message is not understood either. It is not a matter of courtesy when I say that, its the simmple and awful truth. I cant be blamed if i cannot make myself understood in nice diplomatic terms. Im straight foward, and mean, and if u dont like it just stay away, or tell me off, or do something... DO SOMETHING. be a person, stop me, detain my madness, make my angered-self know that you are there, that you are a person an individual and not someone who is willing to take all the shit being thrown in your direction....
thats all folks... sorry for the rambling

You know you go to UF when... + more!

2006-05-21T00:12:00.000-05:00

You know you go to UF when....

1. You've gotten a beer at the Brew between classes
2. You took Man's Food, Bugs and People, or Wildlife Issues for your science credit
3. You've been to Pita Pit or Pizza by the slice, drunk, at 2 a.m.
4. You've taken a nap on the North Lawn
5. You've done the Krishna lunch thing
6. You know what a Vera Bradley bag is and/or you own more than one
7. You know the difference between a Rowdy Reptile and a Awamp Thing
8. You know the difference between a Baby Gator, a Gator, and a Bull Gator is
8. Coke vs. Pepsi actually means something to you
9. You know at least one person who failed reporting or financial accounting
10. You know clubs by their location and not their names since they change every month.
11. You know who Ron Zook is and why he's gone
12. You think it is totally normal that Gainesville is invaded by Gator-fanatics in RV's
13. Been to a party at Courtyards, Lexington Crossings, or Gainesville Place
14. You've seen someone sun bathing with a real gator nearby
15. You know what an ACR is
16. You've been to Ginnie Springs
17. You actually get to the club at 10 because it closes at 2 a.m.
18. You've been to the Swamp and Gator City
19. You've been to Growl
20. You've driven an hour to go to a decent mall
21. You feel it is your duty to hate anything having to do with FSU, eventhough you have friends there
22. You see nothing weird about the 'Nole that you throw bricks at the Oaks Mall
23. When something is easy, you say "even a 'Nole can do it"
24. You know a crap load of FSU bashing jokes like...23
25. You're still calling it North-South
26. You "know" Justin Fawcett
27. You think Orange and Blue are a great combination of colors
28. You NEVER wear Crimson and Gold together
29. You've been to Momo's
30. You know what the Salty Dog and the Copper Monkey are
31. You read The Alligator
32. Jay walking is never illegal, but peeing in public is
33. You walk in front of cars and stare the driver down
34. You've had at least one crazy-ass busdriver
35. You don't clap.. you chomp
36. You've seen the preachers in Turlington with the giant sail strapped to them
37. ...and you've seen Abraham Lincoln walking around to counter them
38. You've played kickball in Turlington
39. You know where the Turlington Turd/Rock/Potato and the Fries are
40. It's normal to go out to club wearing something from Abercrombie
41. Flip-flops are mandatory
42. You've painted the 34th Street Wall
43. Gainesville equals the area between 75, University, Archer and Main Street to you... and parts of Williston
44. You've been misdiagnosed at Student Health
45. You know the importance of Smokin' Notes, Einstein Notes...any kind of notes
41. 4:30 p.m. equals parking for you
46. You've gone Gator Stompin'
47. You've seen someone live in a tent, tee-pee, or other structure in the Plaza or North Lawn for a week
48. Albert and Alberta are your friends on the facebook
49. You had the facebook before most of your friends (except the Ivy kids)
50. You know what Tahiti, Platoon, Tundra, and DayGlo are
51. You own at least one beat up cap (that you purposely distressed) which has Greek letters, UF, or Gators embroidered on it and it's likely camo or pink.
52. You know what The Set is
53. You've seen half the campus renovated at some point
54. You've wanted to tell someone you hate to swim in Lake Alice
55. Girls: you wear pearls with anything
56. Your probably not local
57. You know not to mess with anyone in Blue Key if you ever want to succeed in life
58. Dragonfly for sushi
59. You've requested books from retrieval and picked them up.. and realized that there is an upside to library construction
60. South Florida people: you heard someone with a drawl and asked where they were from.. and were shocked when they said Florida
61. You praise Urban Meyer
62. You've ran around town to GTI, FBS, Goerings, OBT, etc. to get your books
63. You've heard random songs like twinkle-twinkle playing on the bells in Century Tower
64. You've sat in trafic at 4 p.m. and wondered how such a small town could have so many damn cars
65. Subway and Chic-fil-a have the longest lines on earth
66. You wonder why on earth the stools at the Hub are so friggin' far from the counter? Other than Noah, who fits on those things?
67. You're drunk... by noon
68. The entire town shuts down for a game
69. You or most of your friends go home on the weekends
70. You care more that the Gators won the National Championship than that they have been recognized as a Public Ivy League School
71. Always drink Gatorade
72. You know what a Greek stalker is
73. You've watched the crazy business law guy teach in a tutu on TV because you were bored
74. Butler Plaza = everything you need
75. You've been to Market Street
76. You got fucked over at Preview by "advisors"
77. You've nearly been attacked by a squirrel
78. You Bleed Orange and Blue!

2006-05-20T23:41:00.000-05:00

check this out

about Colombia and the drug bussiness

good article

So about connecticut...

2006-05-20T22:28:00.000-05:00

Well then, I will suppose at some point I will write in Spanish, but not now, simply because my head is full of Jewish. Right now I'm in Southport, CT, bored out of my mind I must state since I dont know anyone here and my family has they respective duties to attend during the day. So mostly I just sit. So if my blog seems a little busy at the begining and then the initial fervor begins to die away, Its because I have left this fucking State and gone to Colombia to party my latin ass off... let me tell you why I have no life here. My family moved from florida as I left to UF, because my mom found a great job in CT working for General Electric. So for the past year, my "going home" for thanksgiving and Christmas was pretty much going to this place in which I have no friends and I am yet to meet a hispanic person that does not do my nails or landscaping. So yeah... what is pretty cool about it is that a very short train ride away lies NYC, and I LOVE THAT CITY. Its like a cultural orgasm. Me love me love... but its expensive so I cant go every day... anyways, right now I should talk about my mother's dinner party. 8 people: well mi madre, her bf, my bro, her bf's bro, his wife and their two friends. All of the guests jewish, very smart an obnoxious in several ways. ofcourse they all talked about their kids... who go to berkley, cornell, georgetown etc... all ivy or wannabe ivy schools. The problem is, they do keep staring at me in disbelief cause I seem to be a smart cookie yet go to a state school... in florida??? for crying out loud... its like not eating kosher... so well, in every bit of the conversation amongst the praise and awe towards my mom's latin cuisine, every reference they made to any person they asked about what school they had gone to. It was like "yeah he got pretty high in GE and I think he only went to like a state school or something" or like "what is his background, is it IVY league or just random?" the other one was trying to convince my mother not to move back to Colombia ( which she is about to do in July) and other commented if he would say the same thing about it being dangereous is she were going to Israel. Quite entertaining I must say, and for the first time I didnt feel snobish. Floridians and people up north ar two different specimens.
Anyways, after eating shrimp with fruit, coconut rice and sangria I am tired yet slightly drunk and feel like writing my guts out. But that hasnt happened in a while. I guess it is a vice which I dropped which I wouldn't mind re-acquiring... hey maybe I should start smoking cigars as well...why not? It should probably be in my top 100

top 100 (first 20)

2006-05-19T23:12:00.000-05:00

So this is my first entry in this blog, and I decided to do it because 1. my brother pretty much coerced me into it 2. I saw this story in the NYtimes yesterday that talked about a girl who died on 9/11 in one of the towers. Her mom recently found a file that said "top 100" and it was a list of 100 things she wanted to do in her life, or goals to achieve, or things to remember being. I am going to start it... im pretty sure i dont even have half of them in my head right now... but if you feel like adding something that I miss and you find too important for me not to do before I die, let me know... and lets stars

1. Live in Paris
2. Learn how to cook
3. Begin to answer my phone
4. Learn Chinese
5. Perfecting French
6. Not forget my spanish
7. learn how to skii
8. read war and peace
9. go to peace corps
10. learn origami
11. go to China
12. publish my work
13. Write a novel
14. buy a telescope
15. learn to tango
16. Control my mood swings
17. join the democratic party
18. go to a strip club
19. learn classic guitar
20. learn how to read the tarot

ok right now im up to 20.... these are some easy stupid ones....lol I will get the hang of this blog thing, and probably comment about all the stupid and intelligent stuff I said on a daily basis.

Todo me parece bonito

Now blogging elsewhere

The End of an Era

Because I'm obsessed with Ice and Fire.

Colombians Harvesting Hope

Un tren de hielo y fuego

I am finally happy to live in the USA

And so my blog is...

You can take the boy out of the town, but you can't take the town out of the boy

Why it is easier to ruin it

Fake little girl

The sickness of aging

"Y’see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little…push. - The Joker

"Is there anybody gonna litsen to my story?"

To chill or not to chill

I love la Candelaria

A google competitor.... finally

Rambling

La zona cafetera

I curse Murphy's Law

Articles that seem interesting

Bizarre Day

On writing a novel

Again... life pondering

Wine Class

Cambridge... or Harry Potter... who knows?

oh how overwhelming

Cannes

too sad

It has been a while

Indians and dogs

well, good morning to you too

i like to stare at people in the metro

Clean up; you never know when you may have a polish girl sleeping over

red and green

San Cayetano and his awesome flowers

pretty pissed

I wont know you read my blog unless you leave a comment

another one

Article bitches

My editor ( a woman) has truly hairy armpits

random

First time in a long time (Now from Madrid)

found this on facebook....pretty cute

Salt city

caminata estelar

The complete lyrics to "Yo Ho, Yo Ho (A Pirate's Life For Me)"

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RENT

RENT

desahogada

You know you go to UF when... + more!

So about connecticut...

top 100 (first 20)