evalangui: (odio la vida real)
De mis tres semanas en Manchester, algunas conclusiones:

Los Manchesterianos son re mala onda con los turistas, tienen el PEOR acento el mundo y vos te quedas: sorry, otra vez? y se enojan! Me refiero a la gente en las ventanillas de los servicios de transporte público, a quienes incluso creo que les molesta mi acento americano (a pesar de que como con Mijal tengo que hablar en castellano cuando hay que trasmitir un mensaje rápido tienen que saber que americana en ese sentido no soy. De hecho, ya ni estoy segura de tener un acento americano) La gente en la calle tiene mejor onda pero la gente "oficial", una mierda. Supongo que no están acostumbrados al turismo o algo, pero, en serio, no podes enojarte cuando una persona que no habla inglés como primera lengua no te entiende super-rápido, especialmente si no hay cola ni nada.
De Agosto 2008 (Manchester: Mijal & Johanna)
 
más fotos )
Miedo desconocido, miedo por conocer, miedo a lo que esta vivo, miedo a lo que puede dejar de ser.

Miedo por lo que no he dicho aún y debo decir antes del final, miedo por esas cosas que sé nunca me dirás y necesito saber como necesito respirar. Miedo por tu confianza, que no sé dónde está. Miedo por el olvido y por los recuerdos del mal. Miedo por la belleza que se perderá, miedo por tu sonrisa que desaparecerá, miedo por esas cosas que son tan perfectas que no pueden durar.

Miedo a la soledad, miedo a la compañía, miedo a la muerte y miedo a la misma vida. Miedo por si no vuelves, miedo por si cambiar, miedo por si las cosas no salen bien al final. Miedo por si ya no me quieres al volver, miedo de que me olvides o cambies de parecer. Miedo por si no entiendo que pasó en nuestra vida cuando mire hacia atrás, miedo del pasado y de lo que vendrá. Miedo de los detalles y la generalidad y miedo sobre todo, de no amarte más.

evalangui: (books)
It has been brought to my attention that I never posted a conclusion to the Buenos Aires trip (Thanks, Ana) and now, in English because I’m Manchester and Laila has always felt too special to read my journal anyway, I will try.

Buenos Aires was everything I expected, and not

Everything I remembered, but not

My old house was bigger, my old neighbourhood more decaying

My grandparents were older, more themselves and for the first time clearly at risk of being no more

My cousins were strangers whose faces sometimes did not even fit and who could not trust me

but who, sometimes, did TRY to trust me and recover what had been lost and what had never been

Buenos Aires wanted to make me hers but I didn’t quite (fit), not any longer fourteen, or so Jewish, or so purely Bonaerense, or so innocent as to believe her perfect

Buenos Aires feels like someone I once fell in love with, someone who believes that, deep down, I never stop loving her

And there were the people I most mourned leaving behind (Lai, Eli) and some people I could not really remember why I liked but I ended up liking even more (Yami, Tami) and new people I would like to get to know some more (Cari, Rodrigo).

It was worth it, Ana, it was also stressful and painful at times, but it was SO worth it.

Also, somehow or other I acquired many things I love: clothes, make up (hey, it was free!), books, jewels (my bobe, but at least I got to change the 15-nail-sized hearts for a regular silver chain) and, of course, sweets aplenty. *shows pictures*


Fotos & más detalles )
My paternal grandmother, Blanca, has been slowly getting worse, health-wise, she's almost ninety now and she's always dotted on me but we have never been close, being too different age and personality wise (she's such a peacemaker). I do love her, with the love of distant things, but I have always expected to lose her and I feel more affected by others pain than by my own, to the point I don't know if my own does exist at all. I remember a friend telling me she felt guilty for not feeling badly about a similar situation but I refuse to, blood is no thicker than water and although my grandmother has always been nice to me we never quite managed to connect. I'm glad she got to see us one last time more than I'm glad I got to see her. Now again,I have never been any good at being sad and even before she started feeling especially badly physically speaking there was nothing very happy about her at all. And still, if I think about it, she is my favourite grandparent.

Cousin ranking has also changed radically: Miranda and Rodrigo are at the top, where Rocio used to be. I didn’t get to talk much to some of them, time limits, etc. But, you know, as far as I can tell :p

This post is all over the place, I am a bit myself, it might not seem to fit me but I'm quite fond of the reliability of routine and this summer has been fun but hard.
evalangui: (odio la vida real)

I'm in Manchester and so far London is so much better. Of course, I haven't been to the Gay Village but really, why are there so many people who are not nice? Is it Mijal scaring them away or is it them? Maybe it's me being too hyper because of all the stress of Buenos Aires plus all the stress of getting here... Anyway, it's not me with the student university residence and their whole unclear concept on CLEANLINESS (and I mean that of bedsheets, bathrooms and kitchens.

Anyway, we're making do but we're both exhausted.

EDIT 14-08:

La verdad es que no tengo muchas energias para escribir sobre Manchester. Londres me gustó más pero más allá de eso… por ahí el Orgullo que empieza mañana lo compensa. Pero la residencia que nos tocó UNA MIERDA. Estamos paseando, es lindo pero estar con Mijal también lo hace distinto (piensa que estoy pirada mal y es ella la que quiere parase a comprar una Sprite cada vez que tiene sed cuando estamos a 4 cuadras de casa)… Tienen una biblioteca preciosa y como este año me traje el carnet universitario me dieron membresia plena y puedo sacar lo que quiera :) Hay un montón de boludeces lindísimas, como paraguas y medias hasta por encima de la rodilla.

La arquitectura también es bastante espectacular y estoy aprovechando la panorámica. Mijal mañana va a ver Flashdance al teatro (sola, yo ni en pedo gasto guita en eso y ella quería una entrada de 21 libras para ver bien). Por ahí le dejó el móvil para que filme….

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January 2012

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