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Reculas

Yesterday I received a call from Michelle. In the hour of talk time (with this call Bell Canada has overcome its crisis) found evidence that Michelle always wants to come to the surface, despite the sadness that sometimes betrayed. He told me he misses me and thanked me very much how I behaved with her and her family during the London leg black. I, who believed that there was uss well below expectations and I felt guilty about not being able to help more .... These words were a true balsam.
After seeing some light at the end of the tunnel, I decided to show signs of life at work. I returned on 26 September with a PhD course and 4 semester. My head of department has been very, very understanding.

So I veulvo to Montreal to enjoy été des Indiens (Indian Summer San Miguel), with the beautiful show of fall colors, but before ...


KLARAFESTIVAL MERTENS WIM VAN VLAANDEREN

Musique contemporaine du 19/09/2005 au 20/09/2005. Bvd
Anspachlaan Ancienne Belgique, 110 B-1000 BRUXELLES - BRUSSEL BELGIQUE
€ 25.00


I have already tickets for two concerts. I leave Madrid on Saturday 17/09 to Brussels, do nights there at the house of one of my friends from the ULB, I see two concerts on Tuesday 20/09 and go by train to Amsterdam to catch a flight to Montreal. I have to fly with the worst company in the world (KLM), but well worth Vim Mertens 8 hours on a plane old, uncomfortable seats and flight attendants to retire early point of pulling the trays above the undersigned.

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2 Chronicles of a people

For those of you who, unfortunately, a small town do not have to go, when you have the opportunity, I suggest that you take out a little experiment: They are simply trying to pass unnoticed. Easy? Then you have no no idea what life is like in a population of less than 500 inhabitants.

In the peak week in the village was rediscovered several concepts. The first is that however hard they tried, I could never be recognized as one of them. And could move to live there forever that all would be "Madrid" or, as I heard "the son of the Schillings living in America." Canada is a concept too abstract for most and that does not pack. What good is living in Argentina or Mexico, as some of the migrants from the village, and come every two years to wear jewelry and currency.

For the record I have tried to integrate myself (in fact I have already recovered some old friends), but my attempts to pass one of my family tradition valiéndome have always failed. The fact that my parents emigrated to Madrid, instead of printing character, remove it. In the eyes of all, I'm already in Madrid for all purposes and although my mother's family had settled in the seventeenth century in that town, these 3 centuries of tradition are worthless:

Perhaps this has something to do with people's reactions when I went to one of the shops to buy, looks up and down and not very sneaky whispers to find out "who I am." As I said in another post, I know the answers I give, but, interestingly, the neighbors of my mother's age take descent through the physical resemblance and the height. The act of measuring a tad over 2 meters does not help blend into the environment .

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1 Chronicles of a people Alle dinghe

Back when others leave, is priceless. I've seen the deductions in the N-VI from the other side and it took me less than two hours in transit. Nothing comparable to the four hours it took us to my father 4L.

Here I am back, after a week of searching for lost roots. I read at home, I heard all the music you wanted and have regained contact childhood friends who grew more than 20 years have not seen.

Skip call this week at my grandparents house has sparked many memories. The first few days I found myself remembering words like "SOBRAO," "quadroon," "sunshine ".... No shortage of toasted pine nuts gave me my grandmother's neighbors, ueno, the two that remain, and much older but completely lucid and dynamic. It was they who forced me to go for a ride to the cemetery on Sunday morning to remind me of my maternal family tree.

The town still has two grocery tiends and one bar (no many entertainment options) for which I spent the Saturday morning, beating my proverbial shyness. The truth is that I surprised myself because l to bar entrance was epic. Swing doors just missed the far west style, because once I passed the threshold, all bystanders were turned to look me up and down. I could almost read their minds: "What is lost here the stranger will it?".

Luckily, my cousin was there, just that is my age and with the best relationship I ever had. He was very changed, seeming much older in which has, with his huge hulk and calloused hands of farmers. Quickly recognized me and called me to voices from the bottom of the bar. I've never more pleased to see a familiar face. There were also two other members of the gang that got together in the summer. Despite the time elapsed, it was easy to recognize. Together we had a good time and I was glad to see they remembered most of our little adventures, especially the battles and castles were built with the bullets removed paja.Me colors to remind some of my blunders of boy city \u200b\u200bin the village and had no choice but to accept their invitations to lunch and dinner.

Otherwise, I got up early to go running through the pinelands, I repeated the excursionists to the source of the picnic, I bought the white bread the next town, I ate the best lamb in the world and have come to the evening apse through the empty streets lit by yellow bulbs, for which only heard the sound of the fountains and the distant echo of a TV.

I was also excited to open the chest in the courtyard and find some of my childhood toys: tennis rackets, an electric train, the suction gun. Lueo, in closets, I found letters from my grandparents, my uncles and my mother's letters to my grandparents, especially the first Once moved to Madrid. I tender the formulas are typical of the times ("I rejoice that, upon receipt of this, they are both well," his daughter that he wants to .."), and the tips of my grandparents on my mother the "big city." In these lines are names like ghosts, translucent creatures who only live and in my memories, which are borrowed from the conversations of my uncles. No shortage of photos, including the first to send my mother to her parents when my father and she were dating formal. There are two, with the bottom Cibeles, perched on a scooter that would delight any fan of Quadrophenia mod ....

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Prepare the trip to the people reading backward and lots of good music. On these occasions, Wim Mertens has never failed me. Recently I could buy some CDs that had been years looking for: Tetralogy of "Gave Niets van" and the trilogy of "Alle Dinghe." I like to hear this music in solitude, at dusk or dawn. Has always managed to give me a sense of peace, especially a piece: "Tot" Alle Dinghe. The album's title is taken from a poem of the thirteenth century Flemish mystic:

Alle

dinghe
Sijn my inghe you;
so wijt Ic ben!

That current is passed into Dutch as:

Alle dingen (All things /

zijn zo klein (they are so small /

en ik zo vrij. (And I'm so free)

The translation loses much, but the message is clear, that is the spirit that would inspire in my life now. No doubt I am going through a stage too important (and even pedantic), but I think it hurts me to pause on the way, recap and begin to redistribute the priorities.

Wim Mertens's music is hard to classify. Began being labeled as minimalist. Spain, Ramon Trecet the pigeonholed in what he call "new music." I do not get to fit it in anything. I just know that makes me positive feelings.

The titles of the four albums Gave Van Niets always seemed curious:

'll never be me

Divided Loyalties

Gave van Niets

Reculas pour mieux sauter

Honestly, I recommend it. However, if you want to introduce you to the music of this composer, I recommend something less dense, as the "Struggle for Pleasure", "Motives for Writing" (very appropriate title for bloggers) or any parts of "Jardin Clos."

few days I will be disconnected from the world, except that the people have installed an Internet cafe, which I doubt.

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No titles. This is a post real transition. I'm home again which means back to see my parents, my sisters, my friends, no time to see everyone, eat two to three times, dinner and take so many countless cafes bars always . Who wants to see me, you have to make an appointment. I'm catching on left for breakfast. Many old friends, little time and lots to tell is a dangerous mix.
I again reached the Madrid de los Austrias, a little dirtier and emptier than usual. He missed the iced tea with peppermint Café del Nuncio , reeds in "The Beefeater Tavern" and have found at least Ten small restaurants that are worthwhile.
My friends are still teasing me indefinite acentillo always bring a souvenir, a former girlfriend is still remembered me (for good) and luckily, dark and dreary day in London seem a distant nightmare.

But still there .....


I can not help but feel guilty about feeling happy, when I know that, far from here in a small coastal town in Canada, Michelle and her family still in a deep, dull ache. I talk to her every day, trying to convince her to come to Madrid a few days and sometimes seems that there is a possibility, but it will be difficult.

Tomorrow I'm going to town alone. I want to recover the pure dawn of Castile, the silence of the night, the deserted streets lit by a yellow light bulb. I want to get the wake up at 7 with the rumor of herds that cross my street, go out and buy the white bread from the baker next village, eating the pine nuts that I still keep the neighbors of my grandparents, cover myself with a blanket night live without television. The latter is one of the greatest achievements of my grandfather always said he did not want that thing in your house and respect its will. I remember as a kid, when came to town after a trip that seemed to me very long, I spent two or three days protesting clowns can not see on TV, the "One Two Three" and drawings. Then as soon as I met with friends of the people (what will become of them?), I forgot the TV to the point that, after the summer, the tedious afternoons off in Madrid made me even more unbearable in the classroom, from programs that at first both missed.

My mother told me that there is still the radio that my grandfather bought in the fifties, a relic against which we sat at night listening "for the party." I remember there in the cupboard, awesome in its wood finish and ivory buttons, next to the Singer sewing machine from my grandmother. In the background the carillon, whose touch of hours at night scared me so much that my grandparents had to disconnect so I could sleep.

will also be the "glory" wood stove that was used both for cooking and for heating the iron with coals. ! What a delight in winter to sit in the kitchen and the smell of burning dried pineapple!

over ten years since the town floor. I have to stand the test of do you of who you are?, Which so embarrassed and discomfort caused me a child:

- And this young man, "Who is it?
- My name Arkimir
- You are a stranger right?
- I do not know (what will that be a stranger? That's what they say in Indian movies!)
- Oh, how funny! Did not he does not know if a stranger?. You must be of Velones right?
- Who are the Velones?
- So who will it be? Zorreras nephews, those who went to Madrid.
- ......
- do you have your tongue cat? What more cortico boy you are!
- My mother called my father Ramon Angelines and
- Go!, You are the grandson of the Schillings, the era of big?
- I do not know, my grandmother called Angeline, like my mother.
- Well, that's what I'm saying, Thou art the Madrid Shillings. Oh, I do not know what the capital who have come all as if you had taken a breath.


now speak the local dialect and you know who I am. The presentations will be much shorter.