Suspiros Parisinos

Ya es de noche en Vilnius,y mientras miro por la ventana como tratando de buscar alguna idea que plasmar aqui, me pierdo entre las infinidad de copos de nieve que acarician el suelo. La termica golpea los -1, pero extrañamente mis huesos pueden sentir un poco mas. Quizas sera por que hasta unas horas vivia una termica de 10.
Las nubes actuando de capas, no dejan ver las estrellas. Se dice que el cielo Lituano es magico. Y yo soy un poco fan de esa teoria. Pues, lejos de ser un pais contaminado, Lituania le permite al cielo hacer cada noche un show de luces estelares, que roza lo increible. A veces pasa, que la nubosidad (quien sabe tambien ser protagonista) sobre pone su jerarquia por sobre las pequeñas perlitas. Lo que nos queda pensar, es que mas alla de las nubes, las estrellas siempre estan bailando. Y que en cuestion de tiempo, volveran al show. Quizas, esto sea aplicable a la vida.

Miro mi contador y ya marca que he pasado el 5 mes de estadia. Otro 22 mas. Feliz.

Vuelvo al teclado de la computadora, y me predispongo a contarles mis andanzas.

Esta semana, y gracias a un conjunto de esfuerzos, pude visitar la ciudad del Amor, las luces (y yo le agrego) de las escaleras.

Siempre habia escuchado muchas historias de Paris. Que se respira poesia. Que ilumina al alma. Que es la cuna de muchas cosas de la Modernidad. Que a cada paso se descubren cosas nuevas…Mucho.

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Atardecer en Versalles. Luis XV de fondo

Llegue con muchas ilusiones (soy una persona que se ilusiona mucho y facil), con ansiedad (peco de ansioso), con alegria, con nervios y con lo mas importante: Amigos.

Pasamos 5 dias entre interminables caminatas, risas, cantos, chistes, peleas (siempre hay alguna), fotos (algunas 2000?), imitaciones, perdidas (sobre todo en el metro). Pero inolvidable.

Me habian dicho que Paris enamoraba, y es verdad. Aunque debo confesar que se parece un tanto a Buenos Aires (Salvando las distancias).

Sus calles con construcciones que datan del 1800. Sus palacios imperiales. Sus museos. Su metro (sucio y lleno de policia). Sus miles de escaleras. Las iglesias centenarias. Los atelieres donde han sabido pintar Picasso y Van Gogh (entre otros), hacen una linda convinacion de viejo y nuevo. Que a mi particularmente, me gusto y mucho.

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Versalles desde el Jardin

Ayer fue la despedida (mejor dicho, un hasta pronto). Caminando por sus caminitos, de a poquito llegue a Sacre Cour, en la parte mas alta de Montmartre. Alli, entre musica,vendedores y una vista de la ciudad privilegiada, me di el lujo de mirarla. Sonreirla. Y pertinentemente decirle que pronto iba a volver. Me invadia la felicidad, y aunque alguna lagrima caia, no podia evitar pensar lo dichosa que ha sido la vida conmigo.

Me acuerdo perfectamente, hace solo un año atrs,abria un enlace que hablaba sobre una beca otorgada por una Organizacion estudiantil que poco conocia, en honor a su ex Directora Nacional, que lamentablemente habia fallecido.
Hoy miro para atras, y miro todo lo que vivi y aprendi. Miro para adelante y supongo que aun falta mas. O en eso me mentalizo. Siempre a mas. Pero tambien pienso que detras de la pantalla hay muchos como yo, con sueños enormes, mentes abiertas, y zapatos para caminar el mundo. Y que al igual que yo, quizas la situacion economica no lo permite. Por suerte, como hace un año, existe la oportunidad de que si sos un joven soñador, puedas cumplir tu meta.

Muy felizmente digo que la Beca Martha Bigliani de YFU Argentina, esta otra vez en el ruedo. Sera la oportunidad de que vos pongas en tus valijas tus anhelos, sueños y esfuerzo. Y que de una vez, como a mi, se cumplan…

Una vez me dijeron que a veces hay que ser realista y dejar los sueños de lado. Yo digo, que la realidad tiene que ser los sueños hechos vida. Sino, no es nada.

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Con “La Libertad” En el Louvre! (Poder Latino!)

NOW ENGLISH VERSION (OR AT LEAST TRY TO BE)

It‘s already night in Vilnius, and while I‘m watching through the window, as if I were looking for something to write here, my mind fly betwen the million of snow flakes that are covering step by step the city. The temperature is -1, but still my bonds feel the coldness as if it were much colder. Maybe, it‘s because i have been living at 10 for a couple of days.
Clouds do not allowed us to see the starts. It is said that Lithuanian sky is magic. And I also think so. Because, opposite of being a dirty country, Lithuania let the sky to make every single night a magic light show. Sometimes, happens, that clouds (which are also very common here) do not allowe the little pearls to shine. However, is question of time, ecause stars are over the coulds always. So, sooner or later they will appear. Is not that also helpful for our lifes?

I look at my day counter and say that I have been living here for more than 5 months. Another 22 has gone away. Another ‚MonthBirth“ (?). So happy.

I come back to the keyboard of the computer, and I forced myself to write.

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Louvre Museum

This week, and thanks to many things and people, I could visit the city of the love, lights (and said by me) the stairs.

I had always listened so many stories about Paris. That you can breath poetry. That makes you feel alive. That is the place of born of so many important things of the modernity. That with every step you can discover something new…A lot.

I arrived with so much hope (Im that kind of person), anxiety, happiness, nervous and with the most important thing: Friends.

We spent 5 unforgettable days, with walks, laughs, sings, jokes, fights (also), pics (around 2 thousand), imitations, really unforgettable…

Somebody told me that ones you go to Paris, is difficult not to fall in love with it. Somehow is true, but is also true to say that is so similar to Buenos Aires.

Yesterday I went to say bye (well, never bye. Just a see you soon) to the highest place of Paris in the Hill of Sacre Cour, in the Parisian neighborhood of Montmartre. There between the music, some sellers and a perfect view of the city I could saw it and smile it. And obviously, to tell that I was gonna come back someday. I was astonished, and while a little tier came out from my eye, I could not stop thinking how lucky I was and I am.

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YFU POWER!!! (Mexico-Finland-Argentina)

I remember perfectly, that just 1 year ago, I opened a webpage that talked about a scholarship given by an Organizaton (YFU Argentina) in honoured of the recently death of the National Director, Martha Bigliano/
I looked at the back, and i see so many things that I have lived and learnt during this 5 months. And I look at the future and i can guess that everything will be even better. But I also can realize that there are many people like me, with the same dreams and purposes, but they are nto able to affoard it. Luckily, as one year ago, there is the possibility to win a scholarship.

Happily, I can say that Martha Bigliani‘s scholarship is again looking for dreamers, with huges minds, and shoes to walk the world. Maybe this is the oportunity that you have beinf waiting for. This is the time to put in your suitcases your dreams, yearnings and effort, so they will stop being dreams and will become true…

Once a person told me that sometimes we must be realistics and let away our dreams. I say, that reality must be our dreams becoming true in our lifes…

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Mate, un poco de nosotros.// Mate, a little bit of us.

Mi reloj marcaba las 16 y el sol ya yéndose por el horizonte, nos sugería que nos volvamos a algún lugar techado. El viento empezaba a soplar. Se sentía en los huesos. Y aunque el termómetro no marcaba precisamente temperaturas muy bajas, el factor v (viento) hacia parecer todo lo contrario.

Tomamos Pilis gatvė, luego Gediminos Prospektas, para girar por el museo y enfilando por MindaugoTiltas y asi volver a mi morada. Tomamos el 1G para bajar en mi estación y ya habiendo caminado las 3 cuadras que separan Kalvarijo G. De mi querida Kernaves G. bajo una intermitente nevada, llegábamos a la casa. Nos quitamos los zapatos, para no ofender a ningún Lituano, y rápidamente nos pusimos a charlar sobre temas varios.

El rumbo de la conversación derivó en Mate, algo desconocido para mi amiga Olivia, de Finlandia y algo poco familiar para las Mexicanas Cecilia, Loren y Aline. Y como buen argentino no dude en compartir el elixir. Saque el mate, la poca yerba que aun sobrevivía desde BS. AS. Y arremetí con unos verdes.

Mientras el agua se calentaba, quise explicar que era el mate. Lo que me hizo darme cuenta, de que no es cosa sencilla.

Y el monologo matero fue mas o menos asi:

“El mate podría decirse que es una bebida típica del Rio de la Plata (cedi en mi ego argentino y compartí la matricula con los hermanos uruguayos) pero seria restarle importancia.

Verán, el mate para los rio platenses es mucho más que una bebida.

El mate es la excusa ideal para escuchar al otro y para hacerse escuchar a uno. Es el canal ideal para contar un error, una anécdota perdida, un sueño utópico o simplemente una idea. Es el momento de la discusión bien entendida. Con la pausa justa generada por el sorbo insipiente del agua verdosa. Es un te doy para que me escuches y un dame para escucharte. Es la sinceridad de decir “perdón, pero está lavado” e incluso elogiar las cualidades del cebador.

Es el símbolo de unión y amistad.

Quien te regale un mate, te regala charlas, Canciones, Anécdotas.

Quien te regala un mate, te regala amistad, Familia.

Quien te regala un mate, te regala una llave. Te regala tradición e historia.

Los fanáticos dicen que el mate es el argentinismo en estado puro. Y en cierta forma es verdad.

El mate, como la muerte, es esencialmente socialista. Al momento de tomarlo, no distingue clases sociales. Ni peronistas de radicales. Hasta los marxistas pueden tomarlo con los señores feudales.

El mate iguala, junta, y apacigua. Hay quienes dicen que con un mate podríamos resolver temas globales. 

. Realmente no es fácil definir que es el mate, por que es definir la idiosincrasia argentina. De lo que estoy seguro, es que el mundo con mas rondas de mates, seria un mundo más pacifico. Por que escuchando la gente se entiende, y el mate es una excusa para hacerlo”

No se si a mis amigas les habrá quedado claro la idea. Quizás las nublé un poco. Pero la puta, menuda tarea es la de definirse a uno mismo. Ah, Entre mate y mate ya me olvidaba! Hoy llego a la mitad de mi intercambio. Brindo por una segunda parte mejor. Salud!

Now I will try to explain the same in English…Enjoy it!

It was around 4 pm, and the sun was going down slowly. It was almost disappeared. The coldness suggested us to go somewhere indoor. The wing was blowing quite hard and you could feel it in your bones. It was not a day very cold, but believe me when I tell you that ‚W Factor‘ (Wing) was killing the latins.

We took Pilis Gatvė, and then Gediminos Prospektas turning left in the Nationan Museum of History. Going straight over Mindaugos Tiltas to come back home. We took bus 1G and after a few stops we arrived to our stop. After the path, we opened the door of the house which was significantly warmer than outside (God save electric heating!). The night followed us and with it the snow. I think that little white and cold thing is wonderful, but so slippery…We took out our boots, in order to continue with the Lithuanian Tradition (Never get inside a house with your shoes!!!) and we started to talk about lot of things.

The course of the talk turned into „Mate“ something unkown by my Finnish friend, Olivia and not so known by my Mexican friends Ceci, Loren and Aline. And as a good Argentinian that I‘m I offered them the elixir. I took my mate from the furniture, the little Yerba that was still alive (Yerba is the main product, use to prepare mate. It is green and it is taken from a tree, native from north east of Argentina, and south west of Paraguay). And the process started.

Whilst the water was getting hot, I tried to explain What the hell Mate was. And to be honest it was not something very easy

the monologue was more or less the next one:

“Mate could be described as a tipical drink from La Plata River (Unfortunately, I must say that is not something that only belongs to Argentina, we also share it with Uruguay) But is also much more than that.

Mate is a perfect excuse to listen other, and to make us listened. Is a perfect way to tell somebody about a mistake, a lost anecdote, an utopic dream or just an idea. Is the moment of the well understood discusion. With the accurate pause generated by the sorbed of the greenish water. Is to give one so you can listen to me and is a give me one to listen to you. Is the sincerity of saying „I‘m sorry but the yerba is not okay“ or even to say „My good! you are very good doing mate“

Is a well-known simbol of Union, friendship and love.

Who gives you a mate, is giving you talks, songs,anecdotes.

Who gives you a mate, is giving you friendship, family.

Who gives you a mate, is giving you a key. Is giving you tradition and history.

All the fanatics of the mate say that is the argentinism in pure status. And somehow I agree.

Mate as death is essentially socialist. At the people is drinking it, there is no difference between economical classes. No differences between Peronistas and Radicales. Even Marxist people can drink mate with feudals lords.

Mate makes equality, makes people to be together and peacefull atmospheres. There are people who say that with a mate we can solve global problems.

Really, I find explaining what is mate very difficult, because it would be describe the Argentina idiosyncrasies. But something that I‘m sure is that, the world with more mate, would be much more peaceful. Because, when you listen each other, you understand to the other. And mate is the perfect excuse od doing that“

Maybe my friends could not realize what I was talking about. Maybe I made it difficult. But shit man, it is a huge responsability to define our selves. AH! And between mate and mate i forgot something. Today, I arrived to the middle of my Exchange. I hope the rest would be two times better than the first part. Or, I hope so…