Fin de semana...

Compilation of the weekend: going out of home only for ten minutes early on Saturday to the post, to pick up my new paint easel (which I had to take back in my car driving with one open door, completely open, luckily I live close to the post), almost two pictures finished and a lot of AC DC ... Really a lot... The truth is that I cannot paint when I do not listen to the music, and I find AC DC specially inspiring... For whatever the reason...

Reflexion after such a weekend: I am lost... As lost as a person having all can be... Do you know what is it to have everything you need in life but really having nothing that really matters to you? Having reached what you thought you wanted, after such big efforts and hard work, when you realize that you do not care about anything of that? But you do not know what is actually missing... Everything? Maybe I am simply tired... I even changed my life 180 degrees, came to live to another country to look for... What? Inspiration? Happiness? Joy? ... What?... If only I knew...

And how do you share these thoughts with anyone? Too deep I guess for anyone to understand or to even care... Much too complicated stuff that makes me not funny at all, and so difficult to find anyone that really cares about you and about what happens to you... So difficult to find someone who is just there to listen to you and to whom you would undress your soul... Definitely too difficult for me...

So this is the reason why I paint, I write, I need to just take out what is inside of me to be able to go on and pretend I enjoy a normal and superficial life... But the truth is that I am lost... Like the song... Not yet found what I am looking for...but... will I ever do?

A sad day...

A new post having really not so much to say, but really having the need to write… Today was not a good day, as it may have been for a lot of people most probably having many more (and stronger) reasons for that. In my case, it’s only been a kind of sad day, even with sun shining which is not so common in Switzerland, but still kind of grey... Whenever this happens, I have always the option of sitting in a corner, feeling sorry for myself, or doing something that makes me feel better: writing… 

Voilà! If somebody is reading this (which I seriously doubt), you are now assured to be reading something meaning nothing but a therapy for someone who has had a bad day…

When you continue reading (after the first lines, if I were you, I would have already stopped) I can tell you that earlier today, when driving my car to the office, I started thinking on the weird things that I usually do, those weird habits that we hardly confess and that make each one of us quite unique.

First thing (and obvious) of the list: I need to drive with no shoes… I simply cannot drive properly with shoes though I really love driving and speed (this should be the object of another post, as I literally get transformed in the car, and to the most pure style Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde, honestly from a shy and sweet woman to a kind of truck driver with the arms full of tattoos and singing out loud Metallica songs; you get the picture)…

I went further and started thinking on my personal life: I communicate much better with my dog than with most of the human beings… And by better I mean deeper: I am (on the surface) one of the most sociable (shy, but still sociable) people in this world, but this is only some outside layer… The real truth is that I hardly ever tell anything to anyone: I am really an expert for that… I guess I do not trust people so much, or I do not have anyone I would trust so much to the point of telling my internal thoughts… The most important or difficult things that have happened in my life I have told no one! No one! Well, except for my dog… Funny, isn’t it? We all need a friend at least, someone to trust fully and to know that he or she will not betray or judge us. In my case, this is so hard: if I find somebody I like or I would trust (usually this is sooooo rare) I always get to that stage where I am so sensitive that I feel hurt by an insignificant detail that gives me the reason not to go further… I guess my instinct tells me to protect myself… Funny again, because in days like this, a friend would do me so good…

I could not go much further on the thinking because I live close to the office so I had not a lot of time to think more... Still, these are daily things that would interest nobody, but still needed to tell and write them… There is a film of (who else?) Woody Allen, To Rome with Love, in which Roberto Benigni plays the role of a standard person having a standard life about which nobody cares who suddenly becomes famous (the reasons are not given in the film) and his daily little things, those so trivial to matter anybody, appear in the press, seconds after he has done or said them, just that he likes brushing his teeth before combing his hair or any other stupid detail… Again, a portrait of human nature, so true and so ridiculous at the same time… While I was thinking on those daily habits making me weird I started thinking on that... Who cares if I drive without shoes? And who cares if I transform in the car? Nobody! Maybe if I would be someone famous this would be a topic, but as I am not and I think I will never be, who cares of those little things? Ridiculous…

Not to mention that I started watching and following Mr Allen at a very, very early age when I should have been following Harrison Ford and Indiana Jones… This would certainly be a topic if one day I become famous...

Anyway, it was a sad day today… 

Two main addictions...

Today, I woke up with a question on my mind... Which are my two main addictions? What are the two main things I could not live without? Funny.... You wake up in the morning with such a question on your mind.... Why two and not three? I have no clue, but it was certainly two and not more than that... And even funnier, I had the answer straightaway... I did not even had to think; it was just as if the question was simply there to give the answer: bare feet and painting... That's my answer... What I most love and could not live without is that: first, the freedom of walking with no shoes nor socks, I simply love that (and, the top of the top, walking on sand bare feet...there is no more freedom than that, at least for me) and, second, painting, art, any expression of beauty by means of colors...

I was really happy with myself( admitting this does not happen so often, honestly) to have found not the two answers, but the question to give these two answers... But for sure there are many other things I could not live without either: music (how to live without U2, or AC/DC or Guns And Roses or my beloved Meat Loaf?), my lovely dog Luna or some so important people in my life (I would never cite them but could not live without them for sure and I simply hope they know it is this way.... so hard for me to express my feelings....).

Most probably, I chose those which will be with me until the day I die: the day I lose my freedom or the day I lose art will be the end of my days here... Though for sure, my life would have already ended the day music is silent or my Luna is not with me anymore or, above all, the day my special ones, those of you who do not even know who are so, would not be with me anymore...

I hate Valentines...

Yes, indeed, I hate Valentines day!

There are many reasons to explain why: I find it kitsch and absurdly pretentious... Maybe I do not believe much in love either, at least not in a conventional way... I think the majority of the couples would most probably get apart with time if it would not be because of children or because it ends up being somehow confortable for both so, no, I am not a big believer in love I guess... Of course I think love exists but it is short-lived and only secret or platonic loves last with time and are not eroded by daily coexistance... 

It may sound cynical and probably also pessimistic, and why not also weird that I am writing a post on Valentines when I openly hate it... It comes to my mind a phrase from Woody Allen "Life doesn't imitate art, it imitates bad television" ... And it is exactly that, how do we place and conceive something like Valentines? Sorry, it can only come from a bad TV series... But for sure the "implacable neurotic" Mr. Allen was the same one citing that "The only difference between sex and love is that sex relieves tension and love causes it"... And honestly, I could not agree more. Though not being at all obsessed with sex as he is, I admit being a bit neurotic which he perfectly defined as completely different from being psicotic; a psicotic basically thinks that two plus two make five, while we neurotic know they make four... but we do not like it! As simple as that!

How did I end up talking of Woody Allen and rephrasing him in a post dedicated to non-Valentines? Who knows...

Anyway, happy Valentines and till the next post!

Universo paralelo...

Los suizos son muy organizados y previsores, ésa es la verdad... Tanto es así que ven con antelación la previsión del tiempo o incluso la llevan como aplicación favorita en su móvil... Y lo entiendo, porque lo cierto es que en España te arriesgas a que te llueva algo o bajen un poco las temperaturas, pero aquí el riesgo es que te caiga la nevada del siglo y estés como en tierras del Yeti en menos que canta un gallo (y digo yo, a ver cómo traduzco yo lo de que canta un gallo, con esto de haberme propuesto publicar en inglés también...). Bueno, el caso es que el lunes cayó una nevada aquí monumental de la nada, de un día que comenzó de lo más normal... Los suizos iban preparados con sus botas pero aquí la menda llevaba unos zapatos de tacón de aguja que indicaba que o no había visto la previsión del tiempo o, si la había visto, me traía al pairo... De ahí lo del universo paralelo, porque realmente es que yo voy a mi bola total, y creo que con los años, más aún...

A las 4 pm miraba yo por las ventanas de la oficina y la cosa pintaba mal: cielo gris y copos de un tamaño considerable que no paraban de caer. Sin embargo, veía que el suelo estaba mojado pero no blanco, con lo que aún parecía haber esperanza... 4:30 pm y la cosa pintaba peor, copos por doquier y el suelo algo blanquecino... 5 pm y aquello iba sin freno... 5:30 pm y si no vi al Yeti por la ventana debió ser por la ventisca de nieve que caía, como ésas de las películas... En ese momento, viendo yo el percal, me armé de valor y decidí salir a recorrer el camino que separaba la oficina del parking, todo exterior, claro está, y de distancia nada despreciable.... Cómo expresar la sensación de caminar, más bien hundir, unos zapatos de tacón de aguja de nuestro querido Amancio (aquí tengo que poner una nota a los guiris y explicarles lo de Amancio, y esto de guiris como que tampoco se lo traducimos...) en la nieve es algo que a una no le ocurre todos los días (menos mal, porque si no estos me encierran)... Los taconcillos finos se hundían a modo de crampón de esos que se usan en la montaña, con lo cual no iba demasiado inestable.... Lo peor era que la nieve entraba por la parte delantera de los zapatos al interior, y eso ya sí que no molaba nada de nada... Menos mal que iba cubierta con la capucha y espero que nadie me rononociera porque cierto es que todo aquél que se cruzaba conmigo (más bien, todo aquél que me adelantaba... es decir, todo el mundo, porque claro, todos iban con sus botas mega-preparadas, menos yo que iba con tacones) alucinaba, por decirlo de manera clara.... Debían llegar a su casa a contar que habían visto a una chica con tacones con 50 cm de nieve en el suelo.... la leche!!! Aunque, en honor de la verdad, lo cierto es que con aquello de tacón-crampón si bien incómodo, tampoco era tan insegura la cosa.... Con esto no quiero decir que imponga la moda de tacones en la nieve no, pero bueno, que una iba llevando la situación lo mejor que podía...

En fin, estos días llevo botas pero.... En la oficina me cambio y me pono los tacones, que una es muy Mariquita, y ni la nevada del siglo ni ná pueden hacer que cambie de forma tan radical...

Hasta el próximo post

A Christmas Carol...

Since ages, I had promised to tell this story, so I am finally trying to do so… This happened to me some time ago, while I was living in Madrid and when I was not so skilled with the car (I do not claim to be Lewis Hamilton now for sure, but when I started with the car… well, let’s put it this way… I had certain difficulties)…

El Corte Inglés is the biggest department store in Spain and, in the capital city, Castellana is the biggest and the reference shop meaning that it is always fully packed! Well, to park in Castellana is always difficult, but when you try to do so during the Christmas period… then, any other thing you may want to do in this world is for sure easier! There is a parking space close to the entrance of the store where you can leave your car and actually pay a fortune for just a few minutes, but you accept it the way it is, and just pay! I tried to do so once during Christmas: organised and squared as I am, I had EVERYTHING planned in advance… getting there, parking in this place so close to the entrance and doing what I needed in just a very short time… all should have been perfect according to my scheme and planning… but it never is! Somehow, I missed the entrance of the parking and I entered in what I thought was actually the parking plot, to discover that I was in fact imprisoned in a one-car and one-way lane for taxis from which I could not escape! It is a kind of route of only one car width meant for taxis; taxis patiently follow it and advance a little bit averytime the taxi that is passing just in front of the store door collects a “victim” (or passenger). Who knows how I managed to enter this lane and miss the entrance for the parking???? Honestly, I have no clue!! It would have been much easier to meet Bruce Springsteen in an airport God knows where (something I would not mind at all, by the way), but the fact is that I finally ended up being caught in the middle of that queue from which I could not possibly escape! And really, now that I think about it, I have some problem with taxis, as most of my funny stories have happened with taxis in one way or the other… ok, I will not go into details as these will be posted sooner or later, I guess…

So, I was really disappointed on one side, but of course, I must admit I am quite used to these kind of situations, as my life seems to have been taken from a book (here, you should read “from a comic book”, of the “Bridget Jones Diary” or the like)… So, at this point, I evaluated my options: 1/ I start a career as a taxi driver in Madrid? Well, not really so attracted by that, I have to admit; 2/ I can get out of the car, do what I need in the shop, and quickly get back to the car? As long as the car moved with the queue, option 2/ seemed great to me (you have to admit it, it was a great idea at that moment)... And then I thought: why not asking someone to move the car meanwhile? Honestly, when I think of what I did in that specific moment, I doubt if I had either drunk something really strong or if I had smoked something of double strength, but I guess the answer is none of the two, the idea just came to me in my "normal and conscious state" (which can even be more worrying)… But, honestly, it simply came into my mind as most of the things do, just without thinking… that’s it… exactly without thinking (because if you think even for a second, any sensible person in this world would already discard the idea…. but not me….specially not me…).

So, just like that, with the option number 2/ in my head, I got out of the car, and went to speak to the taxi driver just behind me, patiently following the lane: “Would you mind moving my car while you move yours in the lane, and meanwhile, I will go into the shop and quickly finish something I need to do, please? It will only be a question of two minutes, and I will be back very, very soon, with plenty of time before you pass in front of the door to get your passenger, for sure….” No words can possibly do justice to the face that the poor taxi driver had when I explained to him “my plan corresponding to the option 2/”… He was just about to collapse or maybe to phone the mental hospital and ask whether someone was missing… But (maybe because it was Christmas? I do not think so, but in all films people are doing good things in this period, so why not?) the reality is that he was maybe too shocked to even be able to articulate anything that was not an “ok…??!!” and I gave him my car keys and ran into the store without waiting too long for him to react… I could finally shop what I needed and really the taxi driver needs to be happy that I was really rushing to get all done in the shortest possible time ever… And really admitting that I had plenty of “distractions” attracting my voluble resolution when it comes to being quick in a shop and focussing on an objective… So, really, he needs to be thankful and happy after all for what I did… Et voilà! I was back and my car was even two cars after the taxi that was at that moment in front of the door getting the next passenger… So proud and so happy to be there on time…

Even if not conventional at all, do you now understand that this post is titled A Christmas Carol?

So, so sweet, isn’t it?? I really love Christmas… Such a wonderful period…

Swiss yoga...

First post of the year after a long break, and in a new language! Not to follow by this that I am not in love with the language of Cervantes, but being an expat means to change in so many different ways that I somehow realized I needed to do this in English now... For those who know me well this just reassures you that I am as chaotic as I've always been!

To start with, I love yoga: I know, when somebody asks me which sports I practise and then I reply "golf and yoga" honestly this does not put me very high in sportive rankings... Still, I am not lying and these actually represent up to where my "sport level" can go... Believe it or not, risking to become highly impopular, I do not like sports, it's a fact...

But let me just start from yoga and from the beginning... I have been practising yoga for something like eight years now, starting in Madrid and now in Switzerland for over nine months. When I arrived to my first Swiss yoga class everybody started at the beginning to kiss each other: good, I thought, this is exactly like in Madrid... But here you kiss three times instead of two, a bit more tiresome but still ok... The main principle in yoga is that everyone loves everyone, so you just kiss everyone as if you knew that person forever... Being Spanish this would not create such a big issue, but to be honest, people here kiss at all times, much more than we do in Spain, no matter what you are told about that... and when it comes to yoga.. you kiss more...and each time you do a 50% more... so, in the end, you are quite tired of kissing...

Anyway, class begings: same principle, lots of candles, music with low Shanti and yoga mats prepared... Quite the same, I think... Your teacher comes (gorgeous woman probably ageing 60 and looking 40, when you are 40 looking ...let's not be cruel... 50) ... Still everything is the same as in Spain... After initial meditation opening your chakras (honestly, I have strong doubts that I have ever opened a chakra, I have no clue where these are located... I cannot find anything in my handbag, so how am I going to find and open something that, in case I find, I do not even know what to do with?), you start with the yoga postures, nothing new here either, so it should be a child's game you think... Life has now shown me that whenever you think that, you are getting into trouble, and this is just one more example. You start well: "jambe gauche" (here I use a mnemotechnic rule, "droite" with a d for "derecha", right, and the other one for what is not right, thus left) so "left leg"...good, left leg on top of "genou droit" ("droit" derecha) thus you put your left leg on top of your right knee...not an issue... but the cycle continues, and while you have your left leg on top of your right knee, you now have to put your "brat droit" (you can still think, even when you have your right leg over your left knee, or was it the left knee over the right leg? not to panic, just keep as you are and follow the instructions) so... "Brat droit" (droit, with d from derecha, right in english) so your right arm over your "brat gauche" (gauche no d, so left, which is not derecha, which is right in Spanish)... I follow, no problem, all is clear... Now, you add another variant, and you turn all your body "gauche" (gauche, no d, so izquierda, left in English) but your head is turned "droite" ( droite, d from derecha, right in English) ...ufffff. This is getting hard.... And of course while you are there, in such a confortable posture, you have to remember to open the chakras and to smile and the funny thing comes when you take a look at the other people in the class (after the mnemothecnic rules you could only concentrate on how to position yourself but you were completely away from anything else) to realize that you are doing some posture which has absolutely nothing to do with everyone else's posture... It is exactly the same as when you follow instructions when you buy something from ikea (yes, and you are a woman, because even if I have problems to admit it, men have something in their genes to allow them to mount anything easily while you struggle to follow instructions and get something close to reality) ... So you accept it, you are looking in a stupid way (if you have not tried yoga yet, I can tell you there are plenty of mirrors in any yoga class, just to remind you how hilarious you look), your posture is the ikea assembly of a woman (even better, of a woman in "one of those days") but you still have to smile, open your chakras (only seven, so what do you worry about?), empty your mind (for sure, this is something women do just as easy as that) and smile, always smile....

What I said... everything is the same as in Madrid...