(Wednesday, 19 August 2009 – in retrospective…)
A surrealist experience is being in an awful Peruvian city in the middle of the desert, famous for nothing but some geoglyphs created more than a millennium ago, hitchhike a ride back to centre of town from an archaeological site in the outskirts of town, getting in a very old car while a tourist couple stares at you with an half-scared half-admired look as inside there is a group of youngsters looking like proto-delinquents, some with an irreverent afro hair style oddly combined with a spotless white shirt and a red tie, and then have with them a nice conversation about Portuguese culture, what “saudade” is, and how unique of a concept it is. All that in a suffered but understandable Portuguese, with Brazilian accent.
What the f*ck?
Showing posts with label Random thoughts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random thoughts. Show all posts
Monday, 21 September 2009
Friday, 11 September 2009
Life in full circle
(Thursday, 10 September 2009)
Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=lima,+peru&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=12.791842,28.168945&ie=UTF8&ll=-12.023203,-77.56897&spn=5.284805,11.206055&z=7
One month later, the same city (actually, the very same area of the city, the very same streets, the very same laundry where I had dumped my dirty socks of two weeks of travel), even the same clothing. Yep, by coincidence, I’m wearing the same jeans, the same t-shirt, the same jacket. Perhaps even the same underwear – not too sure about that one, but could be…
I’m having a coffee, killing time for another night bus. From Lima to somewhere. As before. But now alone. Again.
Doing the exact same turns at the exact same corners, to get to the exact same bus terminal where once a cab driver made you think he’d smash the car against the elevated sidewalk so harshly he stepped on the accelerator, just before a 90º turn. Catching again a bus for €0.25, which drives you for almost an hour through 8km or so of chaotic traffic, covering just a tiny bit of huge Lima, from the centre to the seaside of town.
As it was with suddenly sharing my life with someone after having been 6 months apart, it seems like no time at all has passed since I was travelling alone. The same need to write in order to share, with whoever it may be. The same feeling, the same expansion of time in your mind as you pass by random places and are left alone with your thoughts, which carry you far away. Now a mix of solo and shared experiences, memories. “Saudade”.
Thinking of what’s next. What’s there to come. But now, more than in Peru or elsewhere in Latin America like before, in Lisbon, back home.
What’s next? What’s there to come?
Miraflores' seaside by night, in Lima. Covering the footsteps of one month ago, to kill time...
Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=lima,+peru&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=12.791842,28.168945&ie=UTF8&ll=-12.023203,-77.56897&spn=5.284805,11.206055&z=7
One month later, the same city (actually, the very same area of the city, the very same streets, the very same laundry where I had dumped my dirty socks of two weeks of travel), even the same clothing. Yep, by coincidence, I’m wearing the same jeans, the same t-shirt, the same jacket. Perhaps even the same underwear – not too sure about that one, but could be…
I’m having a coffee, killing time for another night bus. From Lima to somewhere. As before. But now alone. Again.
Doing the exact same turns at the exact same corners, to get to the exact same bus terminal where once a cab driver made you think he’d smash the car against the elevated sidewalk so harshly he stepped on the accelerator, just before a 90º turn. Catching again a bus for €0.25, which drives you for almost an hour through 8km or so of chaotic traffic, covering just a tiny bit of huge Lima, from the centre to the seaside of town.
As it was with suddenly sharing my life with someone after having been 6 months apart, it seems like no time at all has passed since I was travelling alone. The same need to write in order to share, with whoever it may be. The same feeling, the same expansion of time in your mind as you pass by random places and are left alone with your thoughts, which carry you far away. Now a mix of solo and shared experiences, memories. “Saudade”.
Thinking of what’s next. What’s there to come. But now, more than in Peru or elsewhere in Latin America like before, in Lisbon, back home.
What’s next? What’s there to come?
Stupid smile: it's from the coffee
Miraflores' seaside by night, in Lima. Covering the footsteps of one month ago, to kill time...Tuesday, 11 August 2009
¿Y que tal le parece Perú?
(Monday, 10 August 2009)
Every taxi driver. The hostel receptionist. The police in the street you ask directions to. The young couple from Lima in beach vacations by the northern coast. The old couple who owns the random store you get into for a grocery purchase. All ask you how you’ve been finding your experience in their country so far. Eager that you’ve been liking it. Willing to recommend places to go, things to do, see, eat.
I was missing that friendliness – since Colombia, I guess. That easy smile on the face. That easiness to initiate a conversation, proactively. That curiosity in knowing where you’re from, how’s life like in your home country.
Yes, I had missed that…
Don’t take me wrong: I met very nice people in Ecuador too… The guy who worked at a mountaineering shop who provided me all the information and help he could possibly give me in order to guide me through my exploration of a volcano, spending precious hours offering me explanations, tips and hints in exchange for nothing, while other store owners closed their doors on my face once they found out I would not contract them any tour and thus pay them any money. He, who lent me his own high-tech, brand new alpine mountaineering tent just because the store had none available – to me, who he had just met, and could easily come back with the equipment damaged or not return at all. Or the old man who saw me come back from the volcano, half-dead and with a big backpack, and kindly and proactively offered me a ride on his truck.
Yes, I met very nice people in Ecuador. There are nice and unpleasant people everywhere – a country’s people doesn’t adhere rigidly to an average archetype; it follows more of a bell-shaped curve, right? I just found, on average, Ecuadorians a bit more reserved, less talkative, less curious and proactively welcoming of visitors, that’s all.
Yes, I missed it: “¿Y como la ten pasado en Colombia?”, “¿Y que tal le parece Perú?”
Every taxi driver. The hostel receptionist. The police in the street you ask directions to. The young couple from Lima in beach vacations by the northern coast. The old couple who owns the random store you get into for a grocery purchase. All ask you how you’ve been finding your experience in their country so far. Eager that you’ve been liking it. Willing to recommend places to go, things to do, see, eat.
I was missing that friendliness – since Colombia, I guess. That easy smile on the face. That easiness to initiate a conversation, proactively. That curiosity in knowing where you’re from, how’s life like in your home country.
Yes, I had missed that…
Don’t take me wrong: I met very nice people in Ecuador too… The guy who worked at a mountaineering shop who provided me all the information and help he could possibly give me in order to guide me through my exploration of a volcano, spending precious hours offering me explanations, tips and hints in exchange for nothing, while other store owners closed their doors on my face once they found out I would not contract them any tour and thus pay them any money. He, who lent me his own high-tech, brand new alpine mountaineering tent just because the store had none available – to me, who he had just met, and could easily come back with the equipment damaged or not return at all. Or the old man who saw me come back from the volcano, half-dead and with a big backpack, and kindly and proactively offered me a ride on his truck.
Yes, I met very nice people in Ecuador. There are nice and unpleasant people everywhere – a country’s people doesn’t adhere rigidly to an average archetype; it follows more of a bell-shaped curve, right? I just found, on average, Ecuadorians a bit more reserved, less talkative, less curious and proactively welcoming of visitors, that’s all.
Yes, I missed it: “¿Y como la ten pasado en Colombia?”, “¿Y que tal le parece Perú?”
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
Ecuador vs. Colombia
(Friday, 17 July 2009)
I haven’t been for too long in Ecuador yet, but there are things that strike me as in deep contrast with Colombia. Here are a few…
Ethnicity. While walking on the streets or riding in the buses you quickly realise you’re in a country where indigenous people if still a minority aren’t exactly a rarity. You can see from the way people look and dress that the mix of bloods skewed less towards the European side here than in Colombia. It reminds me of Guatemala, on that aspect.
Telephony. In Colombia you’d see people everywhere (and I really mean everywhere) advertising minutes of air time – that meant you could use their mobile phone(s) to make calls to any network for a fee. Here, in Ecuador, that role is taken by bricks & mortar stores, where you can make your calls in old-fashioned booths. Lower contribution to the employment rate, but better for the real estate business, I guess.
Dirt. With the honourable exception of some areas of Quito, there is a lot of garbage wondering around. Streets are often dirty and smelly. The sides of the roads are coloured here and there (actually with more frequency than what this expression conveys!) by plastic bags and bottles. No wonder - here goes an example... On my 12 hour long (!) bus ride from Puerto Lopez to Quito I saw with contentment the auxiliary taking the time to collect litter from the bus floor (good call – it was needing it!). My surprise when the man, with his hands full of garbage, struggles to open a window, with some effort and skill finally manages to do it, and there he goes – throws everything overboard, with the bus still in movement. Shocked faces aboard? Only mine…
Sports. If football is #1 in both countries in terms of media attention, people’s time is more often spent playing something else. In Colombia, it’s billiard. Even in the most remote village, in the least accessible Andean valley, you can be sure to find 2 or 3 large billiard & pool places, with a few tables each, likely with electrically heated cloths. In Ecuador, it’s volleyball. For every football pitch, there are 3 or 4 volleyball courts. Everyone plays, men and women, the young and the elder. But while in Colombia billiard & pool playing skills reach very impressive levels, the same cannot be said about how Ecuadorians play volleyball… Have you ever heard of the catching & throwing fault, people? And, by the way, what about trying to spike for a change?
I haven’t been for too long in Ecuador yet, but there are things that strike me as in deep contrast with Colombia. Here are a few…
Ethnicity. While walking on the streets or riding in the buses you quickly realise you’re in a country where indigenous people if still a minority aren’t exactly a rarity. You can see from the way people look and dress that the mix of bloods skewed less towards the European side here than in Colombia. It reminds me of Guatemala, on that aspect.
Telephony. In Colombia you’d see people everywhere (and I really mean everywhere) advertising minutes of air time – that meant you could use their mobile phone(s) to make calls to any network for a fee. Here, in Ecuador, that role is taken by bricks & mortar stores, where you can make your calls in old-fashioned booths. Lower contribution to the employment rate, but better for the real estate business, I guess.
Dirt. With the honourable exception of some areas of Quito, there is a lot of garbage wondering around. Streets are often dirty and smelly. The sides of the roads are coloured here and there (actually with more frequency than what this expression conveys!) by plastic bags and bottles. No wonder - here goes an example... On my 12 hour long (!) bus ride from Puerto Lopez to Quito I saw with contentment the auxiliary taking the time to collect litter from the bus floor (good call – it was needing it!). My surprise when the man, with his hands full of garbage, struggles to open a window, with some effort and skill finally manages to do it, and there he goes – throws everything overboard, with the bus still in movement. Shocked faces aboard? Only mine…
Sports. If football is #1 in both countries in terms of media attention, people’s time is more often spent playing something else. In Colombia, it’s billiard. Even in the most remote village, in the least accessible Andean valley, you can be sure to find 2 or 3 large billiard & pool places, with a few tables each, likely with electrically heated cloths. In Ecuador, it’s volleyball. For every football pitch, there are 3 or 4 volleyball courts. Everyone plays, men and women, the young and the elder. But while in Colombia billiard & pool playing skills reach very impressive levels, the same cannot be said about how Ecuadorians play volleyball… Have you ever heard of the catching & throwing fault, people? And, by the way, what about trying to spike for a change?
.
.
Volleyball action in a market. Now judge the skill level for yourself, namely regarding the catching & throwing fault and the need for a spike here and there! (photos & video taken on 22 July, in Latacunga, Ecuador's central highlands)
You know you’ve turned 30 when…
(Wednesday, 15 July 2009)
… you fall down the stairs like only old men do.
It’s early in the morning and I’m leaving the hostel in Puerto Ayora, in the Galapagos, to catch the flight back to the mainland. It’s dark inside but, stupidly, I’ve my sunglasses on, anticipating the bright light outside. I’m walking towards the exit door, getting into the final corridor. I don’t see there is one final step (bloody sun glasses!), my right foot misses the ground and I fall on the floor, face down, too quickly to even try to stop the fall with my arms. Yes, falling literally face down, with my nose, mouth and bally the first things to get in contact with the ground. Difficult to breath for a few seconds, pain in pretty much every inch of my body and sun glasses half broken – well done for them!
So no, it wasn’t consequence of alcoholic birthday celebrations the night before. It was just result of being half blind due to an urgent sense of fashion, and responding a bit quicker than usual to the law of gravity due to carrying a 15kg backpack on me.
Actually, the celebrations of my 30th birthday were quite smooth. The night of the 13th, yes, was a bit wild. I think more celebrating to be on dry land again after 4 days on a boat than my upcoming 30s, I got pretty shit-faced and apparently ended up dancing salsa half naked, with the gnome in my mouth at times, in a small dance-floor joint in Puerto Ayora, Galapagos. Apparently too, there are some photos of that around - I can't wait to see them. But on the night of the 14th all I had for myself was a great dinner (the most expensive of the trip!) a few beers, and a nice book.
Yes, turning 30, ageing fast here…
But well, back to the stupid and humiliating fall, no harm was done, besides some temporary damage to my pride. No one saw it – I triple checked it.
Well, it was good to remind me: I’m 30, I need to be careful with those knees and falls from stairs!
Happy birthday, Gusti…
… you fall down the stairs like only old men do.
It’s early in the morning and I’m leaving the hostel in Puerto Ayora, in the Galapagos, to catch the flight back to the mainland. It’s dark inside but, stupidly, I’ve my sunglasses on, anticipating the bright light outside. I’m walking towards the exit door, getting into the final corridor. I don’t see there is one final step (bloody sun glasses!), my right foot misses the ground and I fall on the floor, face down, too quickly to even try to stop the fall with my arms. Yes, falling literally face down, with my nose, mouth and bally the first things to get in contact with the ground. Difficult to breath for a few seconds, pain in pretty much every inch of my body and sun glasses half broken – well done for them!
So no, it wasn’t consequence of alcoholic birthday celebrations the night before. It was just result of being half blind due to an urgent sense of fashion, and responding a bit quicker than usual to the law of gravity due to carrying a 15kg backpack on me.
Actually, the celebrations of my 30th birthday were quite smooth. The night of the 13th, yes, was a bit wild. I think more celebrating to be on dry land again after 4 days on a boat than my upcoming 30s, I got pretty shit-faced and apparently ended up dancing salsa half naked, with the gnome in my mouth at times, in a small dance-floor joint in Puerto Ayora, Galapagos. Apparently too, there are some photos of that around - I can't wait to see them. But on the night of the 14th all I had for myself was a great dinner (the most expensive of the trip!) a few beers, and a nice book.
Yes, turning 30, ageing fast here…
But well, back to the stupid and humiliating fall, no harm was done, besides some temporary damage to my pride. No one saw it – I triple checked it.
Well, it was good to remind me: I’m 30, I need to be careful with those knees and falls from stairs!
Happy birthday, Gusti…
Saturday, 4 July 2009
Tic-tac
(Thursday, 2 July 2009)
After 5 months travelling without a return ticket, I now have a set date for my flight back home: 23rd September, from Lima, Peru.
Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac. I’ll have to get used to the sound of the clock behind my ear…
After 5 months travelling without a return ticket, I now have a set date for my flight back home: 23rd September, from Lima, Peru.
Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac. I’ll have to get used to the sound of the clock behind my ear…
Sons of those who stayed behind
(Tuesday, 30 June 2009)
In 5 months of wondering around Latin America I haven’t met a single fellow Portuguese traveller. Actually, I can say more: I haven’t met any foreigner who has met a Portuguese backpacker during their Latin American travels either (besides me, that is!). I’m constantly being seen as a “rarity”.
While talking about that fact, with both locals and other tourists, it’s not the first time I’m asked something along the lines of: “But aren’t you a country of travellers? Haven’t you discovered the world centuries ago? What happened?”.
After discussing the matter a few times, I came with a few hypotheses for the answer.
First, we’re a small country – especially when compared with other “heavyweights” like the US or the UK that so much contribute to the tourism numbers. This, of course, doesn’t explain everything: we were a small country six centuries ago too, and the Dutch, for instance, with a population the same size of ours, are seen now, as back then, in every corner of the world. But hey, it’s a fact: less people, less travellers.
Second, we’re a relatively poor country when compared with most European nations, or the US, Canada and Australia, whose travellers you constantly bump with in this part of the world. Moreover, I think the Portuguese youth is disproportionably affected by our lower purchase power. I mean, my impression is that Portuguese youngsters struggle much more to find a first job, to move out from their parents’ homes, and to become financially independent than what our GDP per capita would predict. And who travels the most as backpackers? The youth. So…
I actually find this second factor, the economic, the most powerful one. But I don’t think it explains everything either. I mean, many young people in Portugal are in a financial situation that would allow them to pack their things and wonder around the world for a few months. But they don’t (they might decide to spend a month in a resort in Brazil or in the Caribbean, but that's a different story!). Why is that?
Apart from personal reasons – that should wash out when we talk of the average behaviour of millions of people – it’s here that I think the third and final factor kicks in: the cultural one.
On a first dimension, there is the effect of the society culture’s on the individual. What do I mean by this? Well, what about this example: what would be the reaction of the typical Portuguese “boss” to the request by a young employee of a “half-a-year leave of absence to go around and get to know the world”? Not a very nice one, would it? Now compare it with the answer from a, say, typical British employer. Believe me, on average, they would be quite different!
On a second dimension, there is also the effect of the culture of the individual him/herself – the one we learn to grow up with in Portugal, which, in what travelling is concerned, is so different from many other European countries. For instance, take Britain as an example, once again. There, the “gap year” is an institution (that’s the year just before college, when often teenagers are given a period off to travel and try out new things, before embarking on the career ladder). So, in result, you see thousands and thousands of British youngsters travelling to the other side of the world, volunteering in NGOs, partying like there is no tomorrow, or just getting to know new places – and themselves. Yes, not always such an opportunity is put at good use, but the travelling “seed” is planted in their young minds, and in many cases it will be harvested throughout their lives. Compared with that, what do we have in Portugal? Close to nothing…
The other day I read online a statement that amused me, but also made me think: “We, the Portuguese, aren’t sons of the sea travellers who discovered the world in the XV and XVI centuries – we are sons of those who stayed behind”.
Would that be true?
In 5 months of wondering around Latin America I haven’t met a single fellow Portuguese traveller. Actually, I can say more: I haven’t met any foreigner who has met a Portuguese backpacker during their Latin American travels either (besides me, that is!). I’m constantly being seen as a “rarity”.
While talking about that fact, with both locals and other tourists, it’s not the first time I’m asked something along the lines of: “But aren’t you a country of travellers? Haven’t you discovered the world centuries ago? What happened?”.
After discussing the matter a few times, I came with a few hypotheses for the answer.
First, we’re a small country – especially when compared with other “heavyweights” like the US or the UK that so much contribute to the tourism numbers. This, of course, doesn’t explain everything: we were a small country six centuries ago too, and the Dutch, for instance, with a population the same size of ours, are seen now, as back then, in every corner of the world. But hey, it’s a fact: less people, less travellers.
Second, we’re a relatively poor country when compared with most European nations, or the US, Canada and Australia, whose travellers you constantly bump with in this part of the world. Moreover, I think the Portuguese youth is disproportionably affected by our lower purchase power. I mean, my impression is that Portuguese youngsters struggle much more to find a first job, to move out from their parents’ homes, and to become financially independent than what our GDP per capita would predict. And who travels the most as backpackers? The youth. So…
I actually find this second factor, the economic, the most powerful one. But I don’t think it explains everything either. I mean, many young people in Portugal are in a financial situation that would allow them to pack their things and wonder around the world for a few months. But they don’t (they might decide to spend a month in a resort in Brazil or in the Caribbean, but that's a different story!). Why is that?
Apart from personal reasons – that should wash out when we talk of the average behaviour of millions of people – it’s here that I think the third and final factor kicks in: the cultural one.
On a first dimension, there is the effect of the society culture’s on the individual. What do I mean by this? Well, what about this example: what would be the reaction of the typical Portuguese “boss” to the request by a young employee of a “half-a-year leave of absence to go around and get to know the world”? Not a very nice one, would it? Now compare it with the answer from a, say, typical British employer. Believe me, on average, they would be quite different!
On a second dimension, there is also the effect of the culture of the individual him/herself – the one we learn to grow up with in Portugal, which, in what travelling is concerned, is so different from many other European countries. For instance, take Britain as an example, once again. There, the “gap year” is an institution (that’s the year just before college, when often teenagers are given a period off to travel and try out new things, before embarking on the career ladder). So, in result, you see thousands and thousands of British youngsters travelling to the other side of the world, volunteering in NGOs, partying like there is no tomorrow, or just getting to know new places – and themselves. Yes, not always such an opportunity is put at good use, but the travelling “seed” is planted in their young minds, and in many cases it will be harvested throughout their lives. Compared with that, what do we have in Portugal? Close to nothing…
The other day I read online a statement that amused me, but also made me think: “We, the Portuguese, aren’t sons of the sea travellers who discovered the world in the XV and XVI centuries – we are sons of those who stayed behind”.
Would that be true?
Monday, 29 June 2009
Old habits
After the turmoil in Guatemala after the killing of a lawyer investigating a corruption and murder case supposedly involving government officials (http://jeffvader.blogspot.com/2009/05/guatemala-business-as-usual.html), it's now the time for Honduras to undergo the first coup in Central America in decades.
In English: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8123126.stm
In Portuguese: http://ultimahora.publico.clix.pt/noticia.aspx?id=1389190&idCanal=11
It looks like I'm loosing the excitment in some of the countries I've been visiting for just a few months.
Hum... better that way, definitely!
In English: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8123126.stm
In Portuguese: http://ultimahora.publico.clix.pt/noticia.aspx?id=1389190&idCanal=11
It looks like I'm loosing the excitment in some of the countries I've been visiting for just a few months.
Hum... better that way, definitely!
Sunday, 28 June 2009
Missing the point
(Tuesday, 23 June 2009)
I saw most of the tourists in my hostel in Bogotá come and go in just a few days. When not playing poker between them, they were watching western channels on TV or just sleeping in a couch, recovering from the party the night before, organised in the hostel by foreigners, for foreigners. Plenty of drugs around, on what is known amongst Colombians as “narcotourism”.
I had seen this before in other popular spots of the gringo-trail – the very well defined (and so limited!) path followed by most foreign tourists, in search of only one of the so many things Colombia has to offer – illicit substances. I saw it in Cartagena, I saw it Taganga… No effort to get to know much of the city that surrounds them. No effort to speak the language. No effort to get to know how Colombians are like, what they write, read or watch. No effort to get to know Colombia, really.
What on earth are you taking home with you?! Did you really come to Colombia?
We are all free to travel the way we like, but, quite bluntly, I think you’re missing the point here…
With the exception of the casual encounters in the hostel in Bogotá, when I went for a shower or must-needed sleep, I don’t think I have seen a foreign tourist for at least 3 weeks. That tells me I’m doing something right here…
I saw most of the tourists in my hostel in Bogotá come and go in just a few days. When not playing poker between them, they were watching western channels on TV or just sleeping in a couch, recovering from the party the night before, organised in the hostel by foreigners, for foreigners. Plenty of drugs around, on what is known amongst Colombians as “narcotourism”.
I had seen this before in other popular spots of the gringo-trail – the very well defined (and so limited!) path followed by most foreign tourists, in search of only one of the so many things Colombia has to offer – illicit substances. I saw it in Cartagena, I saw it Taganga… No effort to get to know much of the city that surrounds them. No effort to speak the language. No effort to get to know how Colombians are like, what they write, read or watch. No effort to get to know Colombia, really.
What on earth are you taking home with you?! Did you really come to Colombia?
We are all free to travel the way we like, but, quite bluntly, I think you’re missing the point here…
With the exception of the casual encounters in the hostel in Bogotá, when I went for a shower or must-needed sleep, I don’t think I have seen a foreign tourist for at least 3 weeks. That tells me I’m doing something right here…
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Layers of Colombia
(Monday, 22 June 2009)
I really like the marketing of the most recent campaign by the Colombian tourism office. Its signature is something like: “Forget the country you have in your mind, and discover a new one in your heart. Colombia, the only risk is wanting to stay”.
Why do I like it so much? Well, what did I know about Colombia before I came here? Ok, before I talked with a few Colombian friends and people who had travelled here for long, better said, I knew Faustino Asprilla, the lethal striker who used to play for Parma, in Italy. I knew Shakira. And probably the first words that would come to my mind would be cocaine production and trafficking, FARC and kidnappings. Oh! How did the palms of my hands sweat as my flight from Panama City was landing in Medellín: "what terrible dangers are waiting me?", was I thinking.
But, instead, what I’ve been discovering is a big and richly diverse country, full of natural beauty and tasty food, an incredibly strong and fascinating culture, and the friendliest and most welcoming people on earth (not exaggerating here – I wrote about it before…).
It’s very easy to fall in love with Colombia. I have.
However, it’s also easy to fall in love without noticing its dark spots. It’s like the picture of Colombia in your head can rotate 180 degrees – from a deeply negative image shaped by ignorance, to an idyllic representation, romanticised by naïve enchantment.
But, as we say in Portugal, “not everything is like a sea of roses” (I love these forced translations!). It’s easy for you to just read your guide book, talk to a few poorly informed tourists and be amazed at how much the security situation has improved in the country in the last 6 years or so. “Long live the government, whatever it’s doing!”. After all, places like El Cocuy (again, I wrote about it before...), which now start to fill the heart of travellers like myself, were prohibited areas of armed conflict and/or drug trafficking just a few years ago…
But then you have a second look at the chronics in the columns of the more liberal newspapers. You ask a few questions to better informed and well thought-through people (not anyone mentioned or shown in this blog, by the way!). And you start hearing how the paramilitary problem might have been “solved” by just absorbing those elements into the armed forces. You start hearing how there might be unbalanced measures against the guerrillas and the paramilitary. You start hearing about “falsos positivos”, the cases when (supposedly) government-backed illegal armed forces exterminate suspects of rebel activity who are later on proved innocent. You start hearing of anti-constitutional secret investigations on individuals and suppression of freedom. You start hearing international NGOs using the news coming from Iran to bring their case about Colombia to light (quite farfetched comparison, if you ask me!).
But hey, you don’t love someone just for her/his qualities, but also for her/his imperfections. That's the way I feel about Colombia.,.
Having said that, and knowing both sides of the coin, I can’t stop but having a sweet-and-sour taste from my visits to places like El Cocuy…
I really like the marketing of the most recent campaign by the Colombian tourism office. Its signature is something like: “Forget the country you have in your mind, and discover a new one in your heart. Colombia, the only risk is wanting to stay”.
Why do I like it so much? Well, what did I know about Colombia before I came here? Ok, before I talked with a few Colombian friends and people who had travelled here for long, better said, I knew Faustino Asprilla, the lethal striker who used to play for Parma, in Italy. I knew Shakira. And probably the first words that would come to my mind would be cocaine production and trafficking, FARC and kidnappings. Oh! How did the palms of my hands sweat as my flight from Panama City was landing in Medellín: "what terrible dangers are waiting me?", was I thinking.
But, instead, what I’ve been discovering is a big and richly diverse country, full of natural beauty and tasty food, an incredibly strong and fascinating culture, and the friendliest and most welcoming people on earth (not exaggerating here – I wrote about it before…).
It’s very easy to fall in love with Colombia. I have.
However, it’s also easy to fall in love without noticing its dark spots. It’s like the picture of Colombia in your head can rotate 180 degrees – from a deeply negative image shaped by ignorance, to an idyllic representation, romanticised by naïve enchantment.
But, as we say in Portugal, “not everything is like a sea of roses” (I love these forced translations!). It’s easy for you to just read your guide book, talk to a few poorly informed tourists and be amazed at how much the security situation has improved in the country in the last 6 years or so. “Long live the government, whatever it’s doing!”. After all, places like El Cocuy (again, I wrote about it before...), which now start to fill the heart of travellers like myself, were prohibited areas of armed conflict and/or drug trafficking just a few years ago…
But then you have a second look at the chronics in the columns of the more liberal newspapers. You ask a few questions to better informed and well thought-through people (not anyone mentioned or shown in this blog, by the way!). And you start hearing how the paramilitary problem might have been “solved” by just absorbing those elements into the armed forces. You start hearing how there might be unbalanced measures against the guerrillas and the paramilitary. You start hearing about “falsos positivos”, the cases when (supposedly) government-backed illegal armed forces exterminate suspects of rebel activity who are later on proved innocent. You start hearing of anti-constitutional secret investigations on individuals and suppression of freedom. You start hearing international NGOs using the news coming from Iran to bring their case about Colombia to light (quite farfetched comparison, if you ask me!).
But hey, you don’t love someone just for her/his qualities, but also for her/his imperfections. That's the way I feel about Colombia.,.
Having said that, and knowing both sides of the coin, I can’t stop but having a sweet-and-sour taste from my visits to places like El Cocuy…
Intransigent about happiness
(Sunday, 21 June 2009)
I came to the realisation of an important takeaway from this trip: I’m becoming intransigent about happiness.
Why? I’m now used to doing what I feel like, when I feel like, the way I feel like, with whom I feel like. The all time.
This may come across as an undesirable trait. After all, we all know one of those children – or adults! – who are used to doing what they feel like, when they feel like, the way they feel like, with whom they feel like. And often they aren’t that pleasant, are they? Or happy, for that matter…
But I actually think I’ve been acquiring such intransigence in a value-added way. I mean, I’ve been offering myself the opportunity to try out things I had always wanted to do but never had the chance to. And some other things that I had never thought about, but the pleasure of experiencing them has resulted as fresh and enriching surprises. I’ve been seeing new things, walking new walks, talking new talks, realising the world is a much bigger, more beautiful and interesting place than I had comprehended before.
Do you remember the flying plastic bag scene from the movie American Beauty, and the famous quote: "sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it”? Yes, I think it’s a bit about that…
So, one thing I feel the need to is, going forward, to keep looking at things this way. Be it here, in Colombia, elsewhere in Latin America, or back home. To look around me and see too many interesting things to do, and at the same time to feel the days too short to accomplish them. To interiorise that reality, and therefore be intransigent about pursuing what really passions me, instead of loosing time with unsatisfactory compromises and tradeoffs.
I like the word “intransigent”: I think it captures well the inflexibility of the feeling I’m trying to describe. And if such intransigence is put at good use, I think it can loose the negative connotation it’s so often attached to it…
Well, if this is the takeaway, I now need to find out what it means to live it in a sustainable and productive way once back home. But I still have time to figure that one out, don’t I?
I came to the realisation of an important takeaway from this trip: I’m becoming intransigent about happiness.
Why? I’m now used to doing what I feel like, when I feel like, the way I feel like, with whom I feel like. The all time.
This may come across as an undesirable trait. After all, we all know one of those children – or adults! – who are used to doing what they feel like, when they feel like, the way they feel like, with whom they feel like. And often they aren’t that pleasant, are they? Or happy, for that matter…
But I actually think I’ve been acquiring such intransigence in a value-added way. I mean, I’ve been offering myself the opportunity to try out things I had always wanted to do but never had the chance to. And some other things that I had never thought about, but the pleasure of experiencing them has resulted as fresh and enriching surprises. I’ve been seeing new things, walking new walks, talking new talks, realising the world is a much bigger, more beautiful and interesting place than I had comprehended before.
Do you remember the flying plastic bag scene from the movie American Beauty, and the famous quote: "sometimes there's so much beauty in the world I feel like I can't take it”? Yes, I think it’s a bit about that…
So, one thing I feel the need to is, going forward, to keep looking at things this way. Be it here, in Colombia, elsewhere in Latin America, or back home. To look around me and see too many interesting things to do, and at the same time to feel the days too short to accomplish them. To interiorise that reality, and therefore be intransigent about pursuing what really passions me, instead of loosing time with unsatisfactory compromises and tradeoffs.
I like the word “intransigent”: I think it captures well the inflexibility of the feeling I’m trying to describe. And if such intransigence is put at good use, I think it can loose the negative connotation it’s so often attached to it…
Well, if this is the takeaway, I now need to find out what it means to live it in a sustainable and productive way once back home. But I still have time to figure that one out, don’t I?
Thursday, 18 June 2009
You see it, you change it
(Monday, 15 June 2009)
The Heisenberg Principle from Physics, also known as the Uncertainty Principle, states that you cannot have absolute certainty about a particle’s situation: the more you know about its position, the less you’ll be certain about its momentum, or speed. And vice-versa.
One implication of this, and more to the point of this post, is that the simple fact you’re observing a certain phenomenon – a particle, for instance – affects its situation. This is called the Observer's Effect, and it means there is no such thing as perfect, zero-interference observation.
I think the same applies to tourism and places like El Cocuy (see a couple of posts below). That town is genuinely friendly, touched by travellers only enough to make it hospitable and welcoming, without turning itself into a theme park or tourists into walking wallets packed with money.
But the truth is, even if only 2 or 3 tourists at the time, our presence there changes the reality of the locals.
You have “the time of your life” there. You’ve tasty meals for €1. You buy beer at a night club – the only one, for that matter – for €0.33. You spend the all day moving from one place to the other, buying this here, buying that there, and at the end you’re absolutely surprised how cheap it all was.
You’re sensitive, so you don’t splash your money around – you keep it low profile. If people ask how much a plane ticket to your home country costs, you don't tell the truth and say something 25% of the real price (you'd say less if you could, but then they wouldn't believe it either). If people ask about your travels, you omit most of the places and what you’ve been up to.
But still… Just the fact you’re spending a few days in an “hospedaje”, paying the national park’s fee to go up the mountain, renting camping gear, and eating and drinking without any concerns, it means you’re probably spending in a couple of weeks what most of the locals have for a few months of living…
So, if after a night out you’re suspicious someone might have overcharged you a bit on your consumption, whose fault is it – theirs or yours?
Probably no-one’s, probably everyone’s. But I’d just like to go back to the Heisenberg’s Principle for a minute here…
The Heisenberg Principle from Physics, also known as the Uncertainty Principle, states that you cannot have absolute certainty about a particle’s situation: the more you know about its position, the less you’ll be certain about its momentum, or speed. And vice-versa.
One implication of this, and more to the point of this post, is that the simple fact you’re observing a certain phenomenon – a particle, for instance – affects its situation. This is called the Observer's Effect, and it means there is no such thing as perfect, zero-interference observation.
I think the same applies to tourism and places like El Cocuy (see a couple of posts below). That town is genuinely friendly, touched by travellers only enough to make it hospitable and welcoming, without turning itself into a theme park or tourists into walking wallets packed with money.
But the truth is, even if only 2 or 3 tourists at the time, our presence there changes the reality of the locals.
You have “the time of your life” there. You’ve tasty meals for €1. You buy beer at a night club – the only one, for that matter – for €0.33. You spend the all day moving from one place to the other, buying this here, buying that there, and at the end you’re absolutely surprised how cheap it all was.
You’re sensitive, so you don’t splash your money around – you keep it low profile. If people ask how much a plane ticket to your home country costs, you don't tell the truth and say something 25% of the real price (you'd say less if you could, but then they wouldn't believe it either). If people ask about your travels, you omit most of the places and what you’ve been up to.
But still… Just the fact you’re spending a few days in an “hospedaje”, paying the national park’s fee to go up the mountain, renting camping gear, and eating and drinking without any concerns, it means you’re probably spending in a couple of weeks what most of the locals have for a few months of living…
So, if after a night out you’re suspicious someone might have overcharged you a bit on your consumption, whose fault is it – theirs or yours?
Probably no-one’s, probably everyone’s. But I’d just like to go back to the Heisenberg’s Principle for a minute here…
Monday, 1 June 2009
LatAm’s common denominator
(Sunday, 31 May 2009)
From Guatemala in the north, to Colombia in the south – after 4 months travelling, what do I think brings Latin America together?
I could say the language, for instance. But no, I choose a set of different (and somehow random?) facts:
1) The most annoying car alarm in the world. I can hear in Medellín the same sound that kept me awake at night at UPAVIM, as the alarm of a taxi parked just by us would go off whenever fireworks would take lace – or a different type of fire… And those were quite frequent – and I mean both of them… I’m sure the guy who trademarked the bloody alarm is a rich man by now.*
(*note to myself: I really need to record the sound the next time I hear it!)
2) The most successful Latin song of 2009. It’s “Llamado de emergencia" by Daddy Yankee, a Reggaeton master from Puerto Rico - cheesy, cheesy. I’d sing it while asleep if you’d play it by my ear. The construction workers at UPAVIM listened to it over and over again – all day long. It was on my jeep’s radio when the most unforgettable road event of the trip so far happened in Costa Rica (I’ll tell more about it when I get home…). It’s often playing in the Colombian buses too. Remember the hit of “Lambada” two decades ago? Multiply it by 10, and you’re still far from imagining this one.
3) Men hanging outside buses’ doors screaming their destinations out loud. These people work in the bus along with the driver and their job is to scream their lungs out so they can collect more and more passengers at every (unmarked and non-official) stop, as well as to collect money from passengers (a not very safe job, at least in Guatemala City). I’ll never fail to smile and being transported back to this trip at the scream of “Guaaateeé-Guaaateeé!!” (announcement of any bus heading to Guatemala City).
4) Salesmen stepping in and out of buses all the time. They’ve very well memorised speeches, always spoken in the most elaborated and educated terms – “Estimados pasajeros, señoras y señores, niñas y niños: pido vuestra muy amable atención para algo qué creo será de vuestro interés…” They sell everything: from tiger balm in Guatemala (I bought that one), to DVDs for children in Costa Rica, or chocolate bars in Colombia (note: these items and countries could have been paired up in any other order). A bus ride back home will no doubt seem colourless without these entrepreneurial pitches.
From Guatemala in the north, to Colombia in the south – after 4 months travelling, what do I think brings Latin America together?
I could say the language, for instance. But no, I choose a set of different (and somehow random?) facts:
1) The most annoying car alarm in the world. I can hear in Medellín the same sound that kept me awake at night at UPAVIM, as the alarm of a taxi parked just by us would go off whenever fireworks would take lace – or a different type of fire… And those were quite frequent – and I mean both of them… I’m sure the guy who trademarked the bloody alarm is a rich man by now.*
(*note to myself: I really need to record the sound the next time I hear it!)
2) The most successful Latin song of 2009. It’s “Llamado de emergencia" by Daddy Yankee, a Reggaeton master from Puerto Rico - cheesy, cheesy. I’d sing it while asleep if you’d play it by my ear. The construction workers at UPAVIM listened to it over and over again – all day long. It was on my jeep’s radio when the most unforgettable road event of the trip so far happened in Costa Rica (I’ll tell more about it when I get home…). It’s often playing in the Colombian buses too. Remember the hit of “Lambada” two decades ago? Multiply it by 10, and you’re still far from imagining this one.
3) Men hanging outside buses’ doors screaming their destinations out loud. These people work in the bus along with the driver and their job is to scream their lungs out so they can collect more and more passengers at every (unmarked and non-official) stop, as well as to collect money from passengers (a not very safe job, at least in Guatemala City). I’ll never fail to smile and being transported back to this trip at the scream of “Guaaateeé-Guaaateeé!!” (announcement of any bus heading to Guatemala City).
4) Salesmen stepping in and out of buses all the time. They’ve very well memorised speeches, always spoken in the most elaborated and educated terms – “Estimados pasajeros, señoras y señores, niñas y niños: pido vuestra muy amable atención para algo qué creo será de vuestro interés…” They sell everything: from tiger balm in Guatemala (I bought that one), to DVDs for children in Costa Rica, or chocolate bars in Colombia (note: these items and countries could have been paired up in any other order). A bus ride back home will no doubt seem colourless without these entrepreneurial pitches.
When will it sink in?
(Saturday, 30 May 2009)
When will it sink in, and what will it mean?
Places pass by. People too. As do the feelings and thoughts that came with them.
I’m at the point when one has gotten used to being travelling. You don’t count how many days have passed anymore, or how many may eventually be left.
You’ve gotten used to just be on the move to the next thing. The ripples of the last experience are still trembling in your mind, but you already are setting your gear and going to the next stop. Chosen the day before, or even that same day, at the bus station. That last indecision around two or three possibilities solved like you would be tossing a coin.
This means you can move on without fully interiorising what you’ve just gone through. Of course you think about it, you analyse it, but often these things take some time to be fully digested. But you’re travelling – and thus on the move – and when you notice it you already are thinking of the following experience, not the one before. And then comes the next. And the next. And that very first experience is already too low on the pile of events for you to really get back to it.
And then you remember a certain moment of the trip that happened quite a while ago – two or three months might have passed. You happen to revisit a picture, or be at a place that triggers your memory. And you notice you haven’t thought about it since then. Or of so special it was.
It makes me wonder: when will all these experiences truly sink in? When will I be able to revisit them all, perhaps like you do in the photogram of a movie?
And how will it feel? What will it mean?
When will it sink in, and what will it mean?
Places pass by. People too. As do the feelings and thoughts that came with them.
I’m at the point when one has gotten used to being travelling. You don’t count how many days have passed anymore, or how many may eventually be left.
You’ve gotten used to just be on the move to the next thing. The ripples of the last experience are still trembling in your mind, but you already are setting your gear and going to the next stop. Chosen the day before, or even that same day, at the bus station. That last indecision around two or three possibilities solved like you would be tossing a coin.
This means you can move on without fully interiorising what you’ve just gone through. Of course you think about it, you analyse it, but often these things take some time to be fully digested. But you’re travelling – and thus on the move – and when you notice it you already are thinking of the following experience, not the one before. And then comes the next. And the next. And that very first experience is already too low on the pile of events for you to really get back to it.
And then you remember a certain moment of the trip that happened quite a while ago – two or three months might have passed. You happen to revisit a picture, or be at a place that triggers your memory. And you notice you haven’t thought about it since then. Or of so special it was.
It makes me wonder: when will all these experiences truly sink in? When will I be able to revisit them all, perhaps like you do in the photogram of a movie?
And how will it feel? What will it mean?
To interesting travellers
(Friday, 29 May 2009)
It’s common to say that one of the best things about travelling is meeting interesting people who happen to be doing the same as you. I qualify that statement: I agree with it, but think it only applies to a minority of those you meet. But when it does, it really does.
The hint that a certain village by the sea or a certain hostel is a popular place for backpackers to hang around is typically a warning for me to stay away. It may be prejudice, but groups of youth travelling to party in the third world like there’s no tomorrow – always well supplied of beer, rum and whiskey (at least) – are just not for me.
But then there are also interesting folks, people who share a certain concept of travelling and who can open your mind to new possibilities and ideas.
Like the Swedish-Chilean couple I met in Costa Rica, camping in the wilderness with their 3 children – of 5 years, 3 years and 3 months old! They had been travelling in South America for more than 8 months. She was riding Brazilian buses while 7 months pregnant! They decided to have the baby in Costa Rica, and now keep travelling. Can you imagine?
Or the couple of Chilean painters who has been on the road for over 2 years – for her is more like 14! – making a living out of jobs they commission at some of the places where they settle for a bit longer.
Or the Swiss couple who 14 months ago brought their motor-home from Switzerland, have been wondering around the continent since then, and are now preparing to go back home. The real one, and not the one on wheels, which will be shipped back to Switzerland too.
Or the Spanish whose 6 months travel in Africa 9 years ago changed his life. Since then he left his well established marketing manager role at a large blue-chip company and makes a living out of travel. Every year he spends 6 months at home and 6 months travelling, writing his chronicles in the web (www.vagamundos.net), for which he gets sponsorships. One year Latin America, the other West Africa, the other India. No one sets the itinerary but him – there are no editorial pressures.
As we were exchanging experiences he told me this trip should change my life forever – it happened to him. “Whether you want it or not, you’ll be a different person when you get home. You’ll feel the ground disappearing under your feet and you’ll wonder what you’ll do about it.”
I don’t know if I‘ll be a different person or not. But I’ve been thinking about what I’d like that difference to be.
…
Cheers, to interesting travellers.
It’s common to say that one of the best things about travelling is meeting interesting people who happen to be doing the same as you. I qualify that statement: I agree with it, but think it only applies to a minority of those you meet. But when it does, it really does.
The hint that a certain village by the sea or a certain hostel is a popular place for backpackers to hang around is typically a warning for me to stay away. It may be prejudice, but groups of youth travelling to party in the third world like there’s no tomorrow – always well supplied of beer, rum and whiskey (at least) – are just not for me.
But then there are also interesting folks, people who share a certain concept of travelling and who can open your mind to new possibilities and ideas.
Like the Swedish-Chilean couple I met in Costa Rica, camping in the wilderness with their 3 children – of 5 years, 3 years and 3 months old! They had been travelling in South America for more than 8 months. She was riding Brazilian buses while 7 months pregnant! They decided to have the baby in Costa Rica, and now keep travelling. Can you imagine?
Or the couple of Chilean painters who has been on the road for over 2 years – for her is more like 14! – making a living out of jobs they commission at some of the places where they settle for a bit longer.
Or the Swiss couple who 14 months ago brought their motor-home from Switzerland, have been wondering around the continent since then, and are now preparing to go back home. The real one, and not the one on wheels, which will be shipped back to Switzerland too.
Or the Spanish whose 6 months travel in Africa 9 years ago changed his life. Since then he left his well established marketing manager role at a large blue-chip company and makes a living out of travel. Every year he spends 6 months at home and 6 months travelling, writing his chronicles in the web (www.vagamundos.net), for which he gets sponsorships. One year Latin America, the other West Africa, the other India. No one sets the itinerary but him – there are no editorial pressures.
As we were exchanging experiences he told me this trip should change my life forever – it happened to him. “Whether you want it or not, you’ll be a different person when you get home. You’ll feel the ground disappearing under your feet and you’ll wonder what you’ll do about it.”
I don’t know if I‘ll be a different person or not. But I’ve been thinking about what I’d like that difference to be.
…
Cheers, to interesting travellers.
Friday, 22 May 2009
Music island
(Saturday, 17 May 2009)
Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=san+jose+costa+rica&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=12.739664,28.125&ie=UTF8&ll=9.959383,-84.230804&spn=0.331386,0.700378&z=11&iwloc=A
Ok, it’s a definite conclusion: Central America is an island on what music is concerned. It’s not only in the buses and radio – wherever you go you only listen to Latin tunes. Even in a relatively OK night club in San Jose there is little evidence of European or American dance music. Just Spanish-spoken tracks. And a bit cheesy too, I’ve to say.
By the way, the word “mini-skirt” shouldn’t be used to describe how Costa Rican women dress up for a night out. The word “belt” is more appropriate. Crazy stuff…
Google map: http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=pt-PT&geocode=&q=san+jose+costa+rica&sll=53.800651,-4.064941&sspn=12.739664,28.125&ie=UTF8&ll=9.959383,-84.230804&spn=0.331386,0.700378&z=11&iwloc=A
Ok, it’s a definite conclusion: Central America is an island on what music is concerned. It’s not only in the buses and radio – wherever you go you only listen to Latin tunes. Even in a relatively OK night club in San Jose there is little evidence of European or American dance music. Just Spanish-spoken tracks. And a bit cheesy too, I’ve to say.
By the way, the word “mini-skirt” shouldn’t be used to describe how Costa Rican women dress up for a night out. The word “belt” is more appropriate. Crazy stuff…
Never again?
(Saturday, 17 May 2009)
There are those episodes in your past life that you recall with some incredulity. “How could I have done that?” “Not in a million years would I do that today!”
But that doesn’t mean you regret them. To regret them, you wish you could go back in time and emend things. Do them differently.
The ones I’m referring to you recall with a smile. You’d never do them again, but you’re happy you did so in the past. And if not in a million years you’d do them today again, not in a million years you’d go back in time to emend them.
Crazy or not, they were too fun for you to paint over them with a brush.
Thoughts triggered in another one of those time travels into the past, during a bus ride.
There are those episodes in your past life that you recall with some incredulity. “How could I have done that?” “Not in a million years would I do that today!”
But that doesn’t mean you regret them. To regret them, you wish you could go back in time and emend things. Do them differently.
The ones I’m referring to you recall with a smile. You’d never do them again, but you’re happy you did so in the past. And if not in a million years you’d do them today again, not in a million years you’d go back in time to emend them.
Crazy or not, they were too fun for you to paint over them with a brush.
Thoughts triggered in another one of those time travels into the past, during a bus ride.
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Guatemala: business as usual
Why am I not surprised? It’s very sad, but not surprising at all, really…
In Portuguese: http://ultimahora.publico.pt/noticia.aspx?id=1380170&idCanal=11
In English: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/8045089.stm
Btw, this is a fairly ok local newspaper where you can keep following how this story unfolds: http://www.prensalibre.com
Man, that country does need a deep fixing…
Food for thought
It’s interesting how the Portuguese expression "o que não mata engorda" (something like “what doesn’t kill you, grows you fatter”) doesn’t exist in Spanish, or in English. There is another one, quite close to it: “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger” (or “lo qué no te mata te hace más fuerte”). But it's not exactly the same, is it?
Today, when a piece of food fell on the ground, my comment that “nosotros, Portugueses, dicemos que lo que no te mata te hace más gordo” made the Costa Rican by my side laugh. For quite some time, actually. “Not stronger: fatter...” he kept saying to himself.
Was it our - so Portuguese! - pessimism that made us give that negative spin to this idiomatic expression?
Well, here is some food for thought. That can only make you stronger, or fatter, depending on the perspective.
Today, when a piece of food fell on the ground, my comment that “nosotros, Portugueses, dicemos que lo que no te mata te hace más gordo” made the Costa Rican by my side laugh. For quite some time, actually. “Not stronger: fatter...” he kept saying to himself.
Was it our - so Portuguese! - pessimism that made us give that negative spin to this idiomatic expression?
Well, here is some food for thought. That can only make you stronger, or fatter, depending on the perspective.
Better Spanish
(Sunday, 10 May 2009)
Yes: I’m finally seeing some improvements. I’ve even been asked whether I’m Spanish (?!). Of course, those are the situations when I wasn’t required to articulate more than 2 or 3 words.
But it’s ok: I’m happy that I’m start distinguishing more often which words are the same as in Portuguese, and which ones are completely different (and for which not even the most worked-on Spanish accent can help me getting a message across).
I do miss the Spanish accent – people talk so differently here. Whenever I hear a Spanish speaking – or a British speaking English, as I miss that too – I focus all my hearing ability on them.
I probably come across awkwardly, as it has worked as conversation starter more than once...
Yes: I’m finally seeing some improvements. I’ve even been asked whether I’m Spanish (?!). Of course, those are the situations when I wasn’t required to articulate more than 2 or 3 words.
But it’s ok: I’m happy that I’m start distinguishing more often which words are the same as in Portuguese, and which ones are completely different (and for which not even the most worked-on Spanish accent can help me getting a message across).
I do miss the Spanish accent – people talk so differently here. Whenever I hear a Spanish speaking – or a British speaking English, as I miss that too – I focus all my hearing ability on them.
I probably come across awkwardly, as it has worked as conversation starter more than once...
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