(De ahora en adelante y siento ser tan vaga, pero es que no me dan las horas… escribiré sólo en inglés)

I love this time of the year. The sun in shining, the weather is warmer (we’re still getting some cloudy and cold days, but anyway) and the city is so alive. There are festivals of all kinds, music, dance, culture… going on these days and I just loooooove it! For instance, last Wednesday, I attended the opening of the International Youth Folk Festival of Bidasoa, that Eraiki Dantza Taldea organizes every year. Dancers from Nepal, Argentina, Russia and Poland visited us. A couple of friends and I attended the opening ceremony. It was so beautiful to see all those colors, listen to such beautiful music and see their beautiful dances. We had a great time.

Concerning festivals, it was St. James’s day yesterday (July 25th). Big celebration both in my hometown and the city I’m living at right now. On July 24th, after completing my work, I walked down to Santiago street to see the kids’ ‘tamborrada’ (kids playing drums in a small parade). I ran into Ane, whom I have talked about on a previous post (the one where I talk about Darko) and I got chills while listening to the music. Yesterday, even though it was a national holiday, I had to work, but that didn’t keep me from seeing some fireworks and enjoying a beautiful sunny day at the beach.

Another thing I love about this time of the year is Aguirre’s delicious & home made french vanilla ice cream. The bakery downstairs sells ice cream during the summer and I try to get one every other day.

So, yeah, even though I’m not on vacation (yet), I’m finally enjoying my summer days… and I’m happy about it

I was fourteen when, for the very first time in my life, I tied a white belt around my waist and wore a kimono. Encouraged by my father, who’d seen me being lazy since I dropped basketball, I decided to join a karate club and practice this martial art. My father and I started attending classes every Tuesday and Thursday evening. When he realized I was comfortable enough in class, he dropped the class. I attended Karate classes for over four years and reached blue belt, I quit taking Karate lessons too… I was too busy with college.

I decided not to get rid off my kimono and yesterday, when I got home from work, tried it on after 6 years (it looks like I’ve only grown a couple of centimetres since I was 18. My kimono still fits!). It felt nice on me . The reason why I wore it is because I attended a Iaido lesson today, as an spectator, of course. For those of you that don’t know what Iaido is, it is a martial art that literally means “The way of harmonizing oneself in action”. The iaidokas (Iaido practitioners) reach this way with a sword. A friend of mine from the photographic association practices this martial art (we previously practiced Karate together) and intrigued by what the katas looked like, I decided to attend a class today.

It was so interesting. I found all the moves very nice and different from what I’d seen till this day. It was so knight-ly looking. Very very nice. And even though it was very different from Karate, it was rewarding to know that some of the Japanese words he said during the classes sounded familiar to me. I could still remember the words!

Anyway, I had a beautiful morning reminiscing my karateka days. Dewa mata!.

I received this FWD e-mail earlier today. I thought I’d write my answers here:

FOUR JOBS I’VE HAD THROUGHOUT MY LIFE:
1.- Publicity Distributor (when I was a teenager)
2.- Activity Coordinator for an English school
3.- ‘Teacher’ at a radio station. Taught kids how to arrange a radio program. Newscaster
4.- Journalist

FOUR MOVIES I’D WATCH TIME & TIME AGAIN:
1.- The Notebook
2.- A Walk To Remember
3.- Dirty Dancing/Pretty Woman/Ghost/Grease… those classic movies we get to see every year on TVE1
4.- Unfaithful

FOUR PLACES I’VE LIVED AT:
1.- Hondarribia
2.- Irun
3.- Hampton, VA
4.- Santa Clara, CA

TV PROGRAMS I WATCH:
1.- If tv shows count… Aida
2.- Heroes
3.- Sex & The City
4.- Desperate Housewives

FOUR PLACES I’VE BEEN AT (Name your favorites):
1.- Paris
2.- San Francisco
3.- Rome
4.- Prague

FOUR THINGS THAT I FIND STRIKING:
1.- Envy
2.- Any kind of violence
3.- Lack of justice in the world
4.- Lack of communication in the world

FOUR MEALS I LOVE:
1.- Chicken breast with that delicious carrot sauce my mom makes (I could eat that every day!)
2.- Steak or sirloin. Yummy!
3.- Thai and/or Vietnamese rolls (I miss those!! (()
4.- Any kind of omelette

FOUR PLACES I’D LOVE TO BE AT RIGHT NOW:
1.- Somewhere over the rainbow… seriously… San Francisco
2.- Somewhere in Nepal
3.- Somewhere in India
4.- New Zealand

I HOPE I… IN 2008:
1.- See my family settled by the end of the year
2.- Get some good news concerning my professional life
3.- Visit a new place/country
4.- Start taking dance lessons

FAVORITE DRINKS:
1.- Water
2.- Tea & Nestea
3.- Milkshake (yummy!!!!!)
4.- Ginkas (every now and then)

The most important things in life are not grand or extraordinary. It is those moments in which we feeling touched by one another. Jack Kornfield

Eco! CA-PU-CCI-NO! No, no me lo he tomado nada más llegar a casa, pero siempre me ha gustado esta frase… la de veces que la habré repetido durante mi adolescencia. O no tengo de qué hablar o los temas aparecen por doquier (me pasa igual con todo… me viene siempre todo de golpe… en fin). Y estoy agotada, porque llevo un mes bastante maratoniano y seguirá siéndolo hasta el próximo mes de julio, pero creo que el café que me he tomado esta tarde me ha excitado y no puedo parar de darle a la tecla ahora.

No habituo a tomar café, siempre que voy a un bar/cafetería pido un té con leche… pero esta tarde he quedado con el mejor barista de Euskadi y tras charlar un rato con él, me ha hecho una pequeña demostración de las bebidas que preparó para el certamen. Habíamos hablado con anterioridad, ya que la semana pasada se hizo con el campeonato de Gipuzkoa y ahora, los cafés que prepara este chico han sido considerados los mejores del País Vasco. Como digo, los cafés no son lo mío… me encanta el aroma… eso es cierto, siempre me ha atraído su olor, pero su sabor me parece fuerte. Sólo tomo café cuando tengo la tensión muy baja o no queda otra. Eso sí, siempre me aseguro de echar dos sobres de azúcar. ¡Endulza la vida!

Tras terminar con las preguntas, el barista me ha preparado un capuccino y yo no he podido negarme a tal invitación. Estaba ilusionado. Quería mostrarme por qué sus bebidas habían sido consideradas las mejores. Leche de los Alpes emulsionada, café arábigo y el dibujo de un corazón como presentación me esperaban en el bar. ¿Sin azúcar? ¿Sin un grano de azúcar?

Pues no, no hacía falta endulzarlo… gracias a una emulsión correcta, había conseguido un balance entre el café y la leche, que le daba un sabor perfecto a mi capuccino. Estaba delicioso, la verdad.

No como el primero que tomé en mi vida. Fue en Italia, no podía haber sido en otro lugar. Nos encontrábamos a escasas dos horas de Verona y tras más de dieciocho en el autobús, los profesores del insti decidieron hacer una pequeña parada en un área de servicio. Dos carabinieri charlaban distendidamente en la puerta de la tienda. Mis amigas y yo entramos, y nos dirigimos rápidamente a los baños.

La primera palabra que aprendí en italiano fue uscita. Me hizo gracia este término: “es como excita, pero con us…”, claro que después aprendí que se pronuncia uxita… pero son de esas cosas que se te quedan grabadas. Cuando salí del baño, me dirigí a la barra y en mi pobre italiano pedí un capuccino. Dios, sabía a rayos! Pero pude presumir de haber tomado mi primer capuccino en Italia.

Bella Italia… irónicamente, ni los cafés, ni los gelatto, ni las pizzas que tomé fueron las mejores. El gelatto ni lo llegué a saborear, porque en mi torpeza habitual, nada más salir de la heladería se me cayó al suelo. Pero el viaje a Italia fue único… de los mejores que recuerdo. Lo pasamos tan bien y nos divertimos tanto.

Quizá por eso siempre he querido aprender italiano… en uno de mis estantes, tengo varios fascículos para aprender esta lengua pero, hasta ahora, todo lo que sé decir es mi chiamo Maider y poco más… todo llegará. Al igual que llegará una nueva visita a Italia en un futuro. Para algo lancé dos monedas en la Fontana Di Trevi: una para pedir un deseo (que no puedo revelar porque si lo hago no se cumple) y otra para regresar a Italia. Y sé que volveré, algún día. Lo sé. Tengo que hacerlo, rompí mi máscara del Fantasma de la Ópera y aunque sólo sea por eso, tengo que volver a Italia. Y hasta entonces, buona sera cari amici miei! (algo ya sé, no?).

Esto es lo que pasa cuando termino rendida tras una larga jornada laboral, divago y divago… mi escusi! (ya callo, lo juro).

Dioses, diosas, titanes, héroes, poderes sobrenaturales, relatos… tiene tanto la mitología que es inevitable no engancharse a ella. Soy de letras, y puras, además. Por eso, en clase siempre me dormía atendiendo a los profesores de matemáticas y física/químicas (menudos años malos me hicieron pasar…), y sin embargo, apenas llegaba a pestañear cuando nos hablaban de Grecia, Roma, Egipto, Mesopotamia… era tan fascinante, tan entretenido.

Y mi afición por leer textos mitológicos se mantiene hasta la fecha. Recuerdo que mis primeras nociones las adquirí en clase de Latín… que, dicha sea la verdad, no aprendí mucho (Rosa, Rosa, Rosam, Rosae, Rosae… no me acuerdo de más!), pero fue una clase muuuuy divertida… y que muchas veces terminaba antes de lo previsto porque a la profesora no le apetecía seguir corrigiendo frases. Así era ella… Traducir textos del latín al castellano me permitió conocer algo de Historia Clásica y algo de mitología. Aún recuerdo los párrafos dedicados a Dédalo e Ícaro, la historia del Minotauro, Ariadna… las desavenencias entre Zeus y Hera… eran historias fascinantes, que aún siendo fábulas, a una le invitaban a imaginar cómo sería todo si fuese cierto. Ya en la universidad, volví a dar Cultura Clásica y, otra vez, aprendí poco… otro profesor… curioso… no recuerdo casi nada de lo que nos enseñaron en clase.

De todas las historias, la que más me cautivó fue la de Ulises y su Odisea, de Homero. No sé si se debió a que no sólo tuve que imaginarme al rey de Ítaca navegando por unas embravecidas mares, sino porque además, pude ver una película bastante nueva sobre este tema. Siempre me ha gustado la historia de Ulises. La de un rey que justo después de ser padre, ha de abandonar su reino para partir a la guerra, la de Troya. Lo más interesante, sin embargo, viene después, cuando a su regreso debe de hacer frente a un sinfín de adversidades hasta llegar, nuevamente, a su hogar. En parte, me recuerda a los viajes de Gulliver… (que también me encantaron en su día).

Me gusta tanto la mitología, que el pasado sábado me compré un libro que trata no sólo la griega y romana, sino la de todo el mundo. De Oriente a Occidente. A ver si aprendo algo de esto . Tiene muy buena pinta. Seguro que me mantendrá entretenida durante varias noches, imaginando a cada uno de estos fornidos héroes y sus admiradas diosas.

También me compré otro libro, esta vez, de poesía de Pablo Neruda (mi favorito) y Federico García Lorca. Son poemas de amor, así que imagino que serán bonitos.

I was told a couple of tales while on this trip I talked about earlier… tales to make us think written by Jorge Burcay. They all touched me and were useful, as they made me think for a while. There were two in particular that made me cry… and now, I’d like to share this poem by Bucay that I read a week ago and I liked so much.

I want you to hear me without judging me.
I want your opinion without you advising me.
I want you to trust me without overwhelming me.
I want you to help me without trying to decide for me.
I want you to take care of me without crushing me.
I want you to look at me without projecting your things into me.
I want you to hug me without suffocating me.
I want you to encourage me without pushing me.
I want you to hold me without holding me down.
I want you to protect me without lies.
I want you to get close to me without invading me.
I want you to know the things about me that you don’t like,
and that you accept them without pretending to change them.
I want you to know that, today,
you can count on me.
Without conditions.

I was told a tale last Saturday night, a tale that spoke about writing down all those happy moments we live during a lifetime. I should add 18 hours, 56 minutes and 32 seconds of joy to mine. I keep no diary. Thankfully, I have been blessed (or cursed, can’t really decide) with good memory. And I will keep this past weekend in my mind for the years to come.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for such an incredible weekend in the middle of nowhere. In a place where time stopped, in a temple where I found peace of mind (Om Mani Padme Hum), on top of a hill where I felt I could fly, inside the car where I shared one of my best hidden secrets (ssshhh…), fears, jokes and cried listening to more stories.

God, it’s been a weekend of laughter and crying. A weekend of forgeting and remembering, a weekend of forgiving and asking for forgiveness. I short, it’s been a weekend filled with wonderful and unique moments. Can’t wait to do it again!

どうもありがとう。

I’d like you to meet Darko, my guy (that’s how I call him). He’s the reason why this past weekend has been one of the merriest ones for me. Darko is a five year old kid. He’s got dark brown hair, beautiful eyes and a contagious smile.

When it comes to reading, Darko only sees some meaningless symbols. Sentences are more of the same things. That’s why learning how to ready won’t be easy for Darko. It won’t be easy to learn how to write either, or learn calculus, history, geography…

However, Darko’s memory is amazing. He’s able to remember details that neither of us would. It’s really impressive. He’s got a visual mind, so anything that his eyes capture will remain stuck at his long-time memory forever. And those images can easily be recovered by him. Pretty amazing, huh? Darko is learning how to read by memorizing images and relating those images to words.

I met Darko last Saturday. But our rendez-vous was not a coincidence. Some of you know that I belong to a photographic association. Well, a couple of weeks ago, we were invited to take part an activity. An association called Aurreratu (Go Forward, kind of) that works with mentally handicapped kids, asked us if we wanted to take some pictures of their children to grace the cover of their 2009 calendar. I agreed to take part on this activity without even thinking about it. I love kids, I love photography and I’ve always wanted to part at these activities.

There were several members that also agreed to take part and a few days before the big meeting, we were told which kid was “ours” (mine). Mine was called Darko. And we would take the pictures at the Armas square in Hondarribia, my hometown.

When I received the email, two things came to my mind: First one was his name. He was either a Serbian born kid or his dad was a big Real Sociedad fan. Second, him. What was Darko like? How old was he? Was he an only child? Did he have any siblings? Hundreds of questions crossed my mind. I was curious to meet him.

I hardly slept the night before we met. I was so nervous. I wanted to do a good job and I wanted to take nice pictures of Darko. I got up early on Saturday and tested the camera. I used my family members as models. Pictures with flash, without it. ISO 100/200/400 (no more, too noisy). 1/100, 1/60, 1/50… what if he moves too quickly? F4, F5.6, how about the depth of field? Blah… I was feeling overwhelmed about the whole thing. So, I took some spare change and commuted by bus to my hometown.

We had agreed to meet a 4pm, but I got to Hondarribia half an hour early. I walked up Main street till I reached the Armas square and I took a good look at the place. There was construction going on there and the light was awful. Blah… feeling even more overwhelmed. Walked back down and waited till everyone arrived.

Everyone was so punctual. Everyone was there at 4pm sharp.

- Where’s my guy?!?!–I shouted, knowing Darko was hiding behind his mom.
- Darko, will you say hi to the girl? C’mon, don’t be shy. Give her a kiss – she was definitely from Serbia.
- Don’t be shy, Darko. Come here, give me a kiss-, I said to him.

Darko showed his face and smiled. He had already won my heart. I kneeled down till I reached his height and I kissed him on the cheek. We became friends right away. He grabbed my hand and pointed the wall in Hondarribia. I nodded and told him that was where we were headed to take pictures.

I suggested taking the pictures at Gipuzkoa square instead. The light was slightly better, there was no construction going on and the place was empty. And that’s how the photo session began.

Oh my and he was so hyper, he didn’t stop for a second. He ran everywhere, non-stop, and I had to follow the guy everywhere with the camera. Every now and then, he’d sit down on the ground and play. That’s when I’d take the pictures.

I wanted to take some beautiful pictures. I wanted to show his vitality, his beautiful smile and innocent, yet witty look. I wanted a picture where he looked natural. And foremost, I wanted a picture where no deficiency was seen. I don’t know I achieved these goals, but I tried.

Darko is a special guy, but not because it takes him longer to read a phrase or understand things, but because he’s truly a charming kid. That’s why my guy is so special.

I hope we make a nice calendar.

Darko y Ane después de la sesión de fotos. Darko and Ane, after the photo session.

While replying to a comment, I remembered I had forgotten to add something related to SATC. I took a test to see whom my personality is similar to. After answering the questions, the website told me I resembled Charlotte the most. It’s funny.

I got hooked on the show while living in California in 2004/2005. My rommate was really into SATC and she once told me to watch an episode. It was ok, I didn’t dislike, but I wasn’t like wow! that’s the best show I’ve ever seen. However, slowly, those four characters: Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, Miranda Hobbes and Samantha Jones got into me. I ended up loving the show, it was hilarious at times, sad at other times… I fell in love with the characters. The plot, the script were so well written. I had never heard of Manolo Blahnik or Jimmy Choo shoes until I watched SATC, knew nothing about fashion till those four girls came into my life. I fell in love with the city too, a city I’ve come to know quite well in the past couple of years.

My roommate soon related herself to Samantha Jones. Before leaving California, each of us bought a mug as a souvenir. I decorated mine with pictures. She did the same, but slightly differently. She cut the face of Samantha Jones and put it over her body. She cut Charlotte’s face and put it over my body. I was a little pissed at first. Am I like Charlotte? I can’t be like her! So conservative, so whatever.

But I’m somewhat like her and I’d love to have her wardrove to be honest. I believe I’m 25%Carrie, 25%Charlotte, 25%Miranda and 25%Samantha. I can relate to Carrie the most sometimes, for several reasons that I’m not going to point out here. Those that know me know why. But I guess I fantasize like Charlotte does. Anyway, this is what the results said:

You’re Most Like Charlotte!