Thursday, September 17, 2009

The mermaid´s dance

"I know what you want," said the sea witch; "it is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty princess (..)Your tail will then disappear, and shrink up into what mankind calls legs, and you will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw. You will still have the same floating gracefulness of movement, and no dancer will ever tread so lightly; but at every step you take it will feel as if you were treading upon sharp knives, and that the blood must flow. If you will bear all this, I will help you.(…)”

She had never danced so elegantly before. Her tender feet felt as if cut with sharp knives, but she cared not for it; a sharper pang had pierced through her heart.(…)

Hans Christian Andersen

Today I went back to a dancing class, after a year of not being able to do any sports. The doctors said it is fine to go back to do whatever I want, and I just want to believe it. But it is not their back that hurts.

I joined a beginners contemporary dance class. After a year my body has changed, I have put weight on, my joints ache and my back keeps killing me, every day, every moment of the day.

I did contact for three years and contemporary dance for one. I was not particularly good or amazing. But now that I am back, every single little movement hurts. Even the simplest of the movements feels so much harder and difficult, more difficult than when I took a dancing lesson for the first time a few years ago. And I suddenly remember Andersen´s little mermaid, not the Disney version, but the real one. And I realise that the words he wrote a hundred years ago, that I read maybe 20 years ago, had remained somewhere in my brain, waiting to come alive.

I lie down and feel where my body gets in contact with the floor. And I feel the pain, radiating from the centre of my back, following my ribs, wrapping around my chest like a big long cuddle of a hurtful lover. We move around on the floor, moving in ways very different to normal life movements, and my joints start complaining, sending me silent messages through the nerves only I know about.

We stand up, we bent and allow our upper body to hang, and the spine breathes and the air comes in between the vertebrae in a painful kind of relieve. We keep bending and straightening up. I am familiar with this pain, when I bend to pick things up from the floor or I get up in the morning.

Then I lift my arms and we start moving them around. And different parts of my back muscles complains depending if they go up in circles, or straight, or around, or if they stay up on the side…

Working with the feet is such a relieve, and then we move on to a beginner choreography. And we have the music, and we dance a bit, mixing together all the elements with the different parts of the body, and we roll on the floor, and then stand up, and bend, and move our arms and bend our upper body and go down on the floor again and jump…And joint after joint complains, and all the muscles in my back find a moment to remind me of their existence.

Suddenly I can visualise the Little Mermaid dancing along this very same music, floating on cutting sharp knives. And I know exactly how she feels. I might not be the prettiest human being, or move as lightly as a dancer…but I know how it hurts and I am an expert at setting my heart on the wrong person. And something inside me moves with the music, and my dancing, and her dancing, and the sharp knives on her feet, and the huge axe across my waist, and the pang that pierces your heart and the blood that only you can see.

The class is over and I change. It is frustrating to have to start not from the beginning, but from a point before the beginning. I mix a couple of pain killers with some water and can’t find my little mermaid any more. She is probably back to being a daughter of the air. She still has two hundred years to go to find her soul. She still has hope, and so do I. After three fractures in my back, I might not float around like she did, but I am still dancing. And I smile, for her to count one year less of her three hundred.

Click here to read The Little Mermaid

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Gay wedding/ Boday gay

Last weekend I went to a wedding in the middle of Spain, in Cáceres, where you can find one of the most beautiful historical towns.

I went there four days after comig back from New York, not knowing where I was or what for. I met some friends I had not seen for a year, and I danced and cried and ate and drank and flirt, in an outdoor night wedding next to a medieval castle, with flowers scattered all around, and a fountain, and lovely live music, and a great video that my brother made for the grooms, and beautiful speeches . The theme was The wizard of Oz and on every table there was the name of a movie to identify yours. Even when I still hate weddings in general, framing myself in the usual affected wedding mood, it was a great wedding. Despite the fact of it being a very expensive posh one. ( I told you, I don't like weddings)

I asked my friends if it was going to happen what usually happens to me in the gay weddings of my male gay friends: all guys are gay, all girls are straight...In the end it was a mixture of people, and I was more interested in sharing time with my friends, who I left here last August,than in anything else. However, when my brother was booking a room for me in the very posh hotel I told him to put somebody in the room with me to share the cost, and his answer was "Sorry, we all come in couples". And I said " Excue ME"

So there I was, for two nights... no, for one night and a half, in the big room of a posh hotel, on my own. I never go to posh hotels, unless I am with the band, and then there is two or three of us in each room. I told my brother I wanted to change the hotel for the youth hostel in town: it was 50 euros difference and, at least, you can go to the main hall and there is always somebody wanting to chat, but he persuaded me to stay there with the rest of the group. The group that shared a room with their partners in their expensive rooms next to my lonely bed.

I am used to go places on my own, particularly after NY. And I go places and I meet people. I am not obssesed about finding a partner, it somehting that happens, but I think about true love. My brother says I am just naive and stupidly innocent. Not so long ago, I developed a crash on a teacher, and it was great, because it was just a simple naive innocent honest thing with no intention of anything beyond, and it reminded me that sometimes, you meet somebody and something tickles inside you; it reminded me that there is always the chance that you might still meet that person that makes your eyes sparkle. It reminded me that love is something different from the guy that you pick up on a bar one night or the silly chats you have when you flirt with somebody that is ok and could be something, but who does not really matter.

I could not avoid feeling a bit odd. The odd number in between the even group of happy couples. An odd person in an odd place with odd clothes. I don´t have the type of clothes you wear in a posh wedding where people wore exclusive designer clothes. My concert clothes are winter clothes and are not so flashy and desginer like. I have a much better time in a burningman event, sleeping in a tent where my cajon and me don´t fit together, or at a BM party dressed like Isis wearing a couple of wings. I should have gone there with my Isis wings. But, instead a wore this old-fashioned top that my mum had made for me 15 years ago and fixed for me, and this nice skirt that is elegant but did not quite go with the top., and sandals because my nice concert shoes were coming from NY in a box...

So there I was, dressed a bit odd and not caring about it, which was also odd; feeling a bit odd; looking at places in an odd way like if I had just arrived from another planet...And then I realised that the oddity really came from inside, from something that was struggling not to die, like a big odd fat warm biting big chunks of something in my stomach.

And it´s all because, even when I am absolutely over the moon sharing time whith my friends and the people I love, NY hurts.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Back from New York / De vuelta de Nueva York

I feel so much older. Not just two years older...but much older.
Maybe I am just more mature.Maybe I just see thigs differently.
All the struggle, all the great things, all the struggle, all the challenges, all the struggle, all the dissapointments, all the struggle...
What an amazing place, what a lot of incredible things happening, what a lonely ride in the city.

Now I am back, and it seems I just slept for two years and I opened my eyes to my old life. But something is different.
And I could sit down and cry. I could cry for hours and hours, about all the things that happened in the last 15 years, about all the things that could have happened, but never did. But they are just old tired tears over an old story.

And I just look out of the window, when everybody is sleeping, and feel a tiny summer breeze breaking the heat coming from the tar in the street. And I remember, and I wish, and I hope...
I hope for the things that will happen, and for the things that will never happen. And I dream

Me siento mucho más mayor. No dos años más mayor... sino mucho más mayor.
Tal vez solo soy más madura. Tal vez solo vea las cosas de manera diferente
Toda la lucha, las cosas maravillosas, la lucha, los desafíos, la lucha, las decepciones, la lucha...
Que sitio tan increíble, cuántas cosas pasando, qué pedazo de viaje solitario por la ciudad.

Ahora he vuelto, y parece que he estado durmiendo durante dos años y acabase de abrir los ojos en mi antigua vida. Pero algo es distinto.

Y me podría sentar y llorar durante horas. Podría llorar durante horas y horas, por todas las cosas que han pasado en los últimos quince años, por todas las cosas que podrían haber pasado pero nunca pasaron. Pero son sólo lágrimas antiguas por una historia antigua.

Y simplemente miro por la ventana, cuando todo el mundo duerme, y siento la brisa de verano que rompe el calor que viene del asfalto de la calle. Y recuerdo, y deseo, y espero...
Y pienso con esperanza en las cosas que pasarán, y pienso con esperanza,en las cosas que nunca pasarán. Y sueño.

Monday, June 8, 2009

LGBAC en Abril Gods and Monsters/ LGBAC in April: God and Monsters

A couple of the pieces we played in April. LGBAC...and me among them :D Can you find me like if i was Wally?

Un par de obras que tocamos en Abril. LGAC... y yo con ellos :D ¿Me podéis enconctrar, como si fuera Wally?

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Colposcopy and Edward Scissorhands/ De colposcopias y Eduardo Manostijeras

(This post is for those women who are going to undergo a colposcopy and a biop[sy for the first time. Do not's awful, but not as bad as it seems.)

There is something in the tranquilizing words of a physician that is kind of uneasy. For example, when you are happyily at h ome, watching TV having a beer and the cell phone rings. You answer and it is the doctor , who says:

-How are you?
-Fine, thank you
-We got the results of you pap smear, and it is not clear. You need to have a colposcopy and a bipsy done. You have a displasia.But don't worry, it is not cancer
Worried? Who was worried? I was happily surfing the net until you called.And I never said anything about cancer.
While your brain is thinking this, the guy lkeeps talking at the other side of the phone, saying something you quite not get.
And after that, you get to the gyn clinic andyou have to sign a paper confirming that you have been explained the whole procedure and you agree with it. But you have been explained the whole proced

ure, in a shock state in perfect English, which is not your language, through the phone. So you sign you agree to something you did not really completely understand

Then you sit there, waiting for the doctor, wrapped in a huge paper sheet, looking at an enormous massive chocker-block microscope. And you think " Hey,. the doctor uses this to observe whatever he takes out. Because there is not way that can fit in there"So the gay arrives, you slide down and he puts the speculum in. In fact, I have never seen the speculum at the gyn's, because you can't see with the sheet they put around you. It looks like this, on the right. So the gay puts it in and you hear " wricki, wricki, wricki", and it is the thing opening. It does not really hurt, but it is uncomfortable. And because you stay with that in for a while during this test, at the end you get like period pains, because your body tries to get rid of it. But it is not really painful, do not panic.

Then the guy says, " Ok, I am going to put some vinegar in" And you think " Vinegar? I have had strange requests from guys on the internet like wine, or chocolate o icecream...But vinegar?" .
And just when you are there, feeling like a lettuce, the guy gets the microscope, you feel something warm, which is probably the light, and suddenly realize that, yes, the big massive chocker-block microscope fits in there. Again, it is not really painful.

Then he says," Ok, almost done" He puts something in with a cotton bud, which seems to be something like anesthesy, I think. And I think this because after this, he looks at the nurse who passes him an incredibly big pair of scissors, like the ones on the left, and he says " You are going to feel a pinch" And you think " A pinch??!!! Wait wait... what do you mean a pinch? ...what are you doing with those scissors... WAIT!!" And just when you have collected enough courage to say something, it is to late, because you hear the noise of the scissor closing " huich". I did not feel anything, not pinch, no pain, but I heard it, and this is why I think he had put some anesthesy.

Then he says "Ok, this is done" And you think " ok, ok, you keep saying ok, ok what? Take it out take it out" And he puts some more things inside with cotton buds, and finally takes the speculum out. You sit up and he sympathetically passes you a sanitary towel.

And then, you wait until he has left the room and go to the bathroom where you take the sheet off and get your clothes again. He talks to you, and the you have to wait for two eweeks to know the results.

And life goes on, with one small difference. Suddenly, Edward Scissorhands has lost all his sex-appeal.

Hay algo en las palabras tranquilizadoras de un médico, que a veces resulta inquietante. Por ejemplo cuando estás tan tranquilamente en tu casa viendo la tele tomándote una cervecita y te suena el móvil. Lo coges y es el médico que te dice
-Hola como estás?

-Erm bien gracias.
- Hemos recibido los resultados de tu citolog'ia, y no ha salido bien. Tienes que volver. Hay una displasia, pero no te preocupes, no es c'ancer.

y piensas "Preocupada? Quien estaba preocupada? Yo estaba tranquilamente mirando el internete, hace tres minutos, y no estaba pensando en c'ancer"

Asi que en este momento, tu cerebro se cierra en banda a lo que te explican que viene despues,

Y despues de eso , cuando llegas al gine,tienes que firmar un papel confrimando que te han explicado el procedimiento completo y que estas de acuerdo con ‘el. Y te lo han explicado, en un estado de shock en un Ingl’es perfecto, que no es tu lengua, y por tel’efono. As’i que firmas que est’as de acuerdo con algo que en realidad nunca llegaste a comprender.

Y te sientas ah’i, esperando al m’edico, envuelta en una hoja de papel gigante, mirando a un microscopio enorme y gigante. Y piensas “ Hey, el m’edico utiliza este microscopio para observa las muestras que toma. Porque esto no puede caber ah’i dentro”

As’i que llega el hombre, te resbalas hacia abajo en la camilla y te pone el speculum. De hecho, nunca he visto un speculum en la clinica del gine, porque no puedes ver nada con la s’abana de papel que te ponen. Se parece a esto, a la derecha. Asi que el t’io lo mete y oyes “wricki, wricki,wricki”, y es la cosa que se abre. En realidad no duele, pero es muy molesto. Y como te quedas ah’i por un rato, al final te da como dolor de la regll, porque tu cuerpo intenta expulsarlo. Pero en realidad no duele, que no cunda el p’anico.

Entonces el hombre dice” Muy bien, voy a poner un poco de vinagre” Y t’u piensas “ Vinagre?? He tenido muchas peticiones extragnas por internet como vino, o choclate o helado…Pero vinagre?”

Y justo cuando est’as ah’i, sinti’endote como una lechuga, el t’io coge el microscopio y sientes algo c’alido, que es probablemente una luz, y te das cuenta de que , s’i, el microscopio gigante s’i que cabe. Pero, de Nuevo, no es doloroso, solo asquerosito.

Entonces dice “Muy bien, casi hemos terminado” , y pone algo con un palito de algod’on, que es como anestesia. Y digo que es como anestesia porque despu’es de esto, mira a la enfermera que le pasa unas yijeras incre’iblemente grandes, como las de la izquierda, y dice “ Vas a sentir un pellizquito” Y t’u piensas “ un pellizquito??!!!Espera, espera…que quiere decir un pellizquito?...que est’as hacienda con esas tijeras…ESPERA!!!” Y justo cuando has conseguido el valor suficiente para decir algo, es muy tarde, porque oyes el ruido de las tijeras cerr’andose “ jhuich” En realidad no sent’i nada, ni un pellizco , ni dolor, pero lo escuch’e claramente.Por eso creo que puso anestesia.

Y dice “ Muy bien, ya est’a” Y tu piensas “ Muy bien, muy bien, no haces m’as que decir muy bien. Muy bien qu’e? S’acalo , s’acalo” Y te pone algo m’as dentro con los palitos de algod’on, y finalmente saca el esp’eculo. Te sientas y el t'io te pasa una compresa con aire de que pena me das.
Y entonces esperas hasta que se va de la habitaci’on, y te vas al bagno donde te quitas la hoja de papel gigante y te vistes. Habla contigo y tienes que esperar dos semanas para saber los resultados

Y la vide sigue, con una pequegna diferencia. De repente, Eduardo Manostijeras ya no tiene ning'un atractivo.

(Este post es para aquellas mujeres que tiene que hacerse una colposcopia y una biopsioa por primera vez. No te precupes…es asquerosito,pero no tan malo como suena)

Thursday, May 7, 2009


As I sit down marking papers in my classrooms, the mice that live here start running around the class. I sigh, make a noise and they seem to go, and I do not know if feeling like Cindirella and start singing with them, or like David Copperfield and write a 400 pages book about it.

Can you imagine what happens when in a class of about 25 15 year old kids, after spending ten minutes to get them quiet, a mouse runs across the class? People on top of the tables, people running out of the class, screaming....And when it happens at 8, and at 9, and at 10...I just sigh. It was bad enough not to get any respect from thekids in my class....But not getting it from the mice, it is just too much.

I got a thing that is suppose to make some kind of noise that human don't hear and makes the mice run away. But I can actually hear it,, when there are no kids, of course, and it bothers me, but the mice are still there.

I have to turn the grades in tomorrow. I told my boss that I am not going to be on time, cause the mice ate them. But he did not buy it. So I am going back to my classroom with my mice to keep grading....sigh!

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Great video/Un vídeo mu chulo

This is great. Do not maximize the screen after clicking on the link:D

Este vídeo es genial. No pongáis pantalla completa despues de pinchar en el link :D

Sunday, March 8, 2009

A dream come true: The Carnegie Hall ( versión española abajo)

Some dreams are so unlikely that we do not even dare to dream of them. They are so unreachable, so impossible, that we do not even allow our imagination to linger on them.

And sometime, life is so amazing, that it delivers one of these dreams to our door, and we receive one invaluable gift, probably without deserving it. And suddenly, lots of different elements of our life come together in a strange magical way to form this dream, and everything starts making sense, and we look at the past with a different light. And we understand some things that we never understood why they happened, and we rejoice in things that, at the moment, did not seem a matter of joy.

All since I started studying music at 14, I wondered how it would be to be down at the stage with the orchestra. Down at the national Auditorium, or the Teatro Monumental , where the best orchestras play. But I never thought it would be possible for me to get there, ever in my life. And somehow, for some reason, for many reason that have nothing to do with music or my flute, last month I played at the Carnegie Hall...My heart beat still rises when I pronounce that name and I still get goose bumps.

It was amazing, walking down the stage, sitting down in the middle of the band and being a part of the creation of music, starting from silence. The seats, the people, the lights, the acoustics. And the wonderful music stands that can be easily adjusted without trapping your fingers in them.

I walked down with my new shoes and my concert skirt. The same skirt that my mum made for me when I was 16, to wear in my first audition at the Real Conservatorio Superior de Música de Madrid. How could I even begin to imagine at that point?

We had been given badges, and when I arrived, I had to look for the artist entrance. I am going to say it, just to enjoy the sound of it " THE CARNEGIE HALL ARTIST´S ENTRANCE"

Then I was waiting for a while. I put make up on in a big mirror with lots of bulbs, and put my high heels shoes. We lined up to rehearse for 20 minutes. I entered the stage and I could see the whole theatre, the orchestra, the family circle, the boxes…And we played a bit. The first two bars where much worse than usual. You could tell the fear of making it wrong. And finding that your sound is different from what you are used to at the Carnegie Hall ( I am going to say it again YOUR SOUND AT THE CARNEGIE HALL). But then we got used to it, and everything improved and the notes started finding its place in the immense space of the theatre.

After that we were allowed to go out until our call at 9 ( does it not sound professional?). I went for a coffee and at nine, there we were, all around, sitting down, talking, playing, warming up. The sound of all the different instruments, playing scales, small recognizable parts of the pieces mixed together with the laughter, the sounds of cameras. And then, our call came.

We lined up waiting to enter the stage. 10 minutes. That is always the worst part. The ten minutes before you have to play. We were there, whispering, concentrating. And we got on stage. The conductor was at the door, smiling at us, supporting us in our way to the stage.

The lights were bright and the audience received us with applause. We sat down, warmed up for one minute, and then the concertino, who is a clarinet, played a B flat for the brass and A for the woodwind, and we tuned up. Actually, we had kind of tuned before coming on stage, just to be on the safe side. But don’t tell anyone.
Then the conductor came on stage. Another round of applause. He looked at us, put his arms in the air and we followed him, putting our instruments in our mouths. One second of complete silence in the huge theatre. He marked the pick-up bar, and the ride started.
After the overture of Candide, there was lots of clapping. And then we played another very difficult one, a contemporary piece called Wild nights. After that, it was all easy. I was more scared of the two first ones, so after them, I really relaxed and enjoyed being there, and the music that we were doing together. And in the moments where I had silences, it was great to see how the conductor made the music happened, how his baton was dictating the music, and hear the other people in the band play. And the music kept floating around, like magic.
Particularly, the last chord on Elsa’s procession, from Lohengrin. It just hanged there on the air for a bit alter we stopped, all the sounds mixing together in that great Wagnerian chord and we were listening to it with our instruments in our mouths.
And we also played another contemporary piece, called Pilatus, and the Typewriter Symphony, which everybody loved.
And then we got a huge round of applause. The conductor went off and came back twice. And I saw my friends saying hello to me from the audience, and we went off stage like walking in a cloud, smiling our heads off and we hugged each other…
And it all was absolutely wonderful.

There was a time when I played at the Carnegie Hall, where the lights were bright and the music floated in the air. And magic came out of the conductor’s baton.

Some photos

Un sueño hecho realidad: EL CARNEGIE HALL ( english version above)

Algunos sueños son tan improbables que ni siquiera nos atrevemos a soñarlos. Son tan inalcanzables, tan imposibles, que ni siquiera permitimos que nuestra imaginación descanse en ellos.

Y a veces, la vida es tan asombrosa que te deja uno de los sueños a la puerta de c asa, y recibes un regalo de valor incalculable, seguramente sin merecerlo. Y de repente, muchos elementos diferentes de la vida se juntan de una forma extraña y mágica para dar forma a este sueño y todo empieza a tomar sentido, y miramos al pasado con una voz diferente. Y entendemos cosas que nunca antes habíamos entendido por qué pasaron y nos alegramos de cosas que, en su m omento, no parecían ser causa de ninguna alegría.

Desde que empecé a estudiar música a los 14, me preguntaba como sería estar abajo en el escenario con la orquesta. Ahí abajo en el auditorio Nacional o en el Teatro Monumental, donde tocan las mejores orquestas. Pero nunca pensé que me sería posible llegar ahí, jamás en mi vida. Y de alguna manera, por alguna razón, por muchas razones que no tienen nada que ver con la música o con la flauta, el mes pasado, toqué en el Carnegie Hall. Todavía se me acelera el corazón cuando pronuncio ese nombre, y se me pone la carne de gallina

Fue increíble salir a escena, sentarse en el medio de la banda y ser parte de la creación de la música, empezando desde el silencio. Las sillas, la gente, las luces, la acústica. Y esos atriles maravillosos que se ajustan fácilmente sin atraparse los dedos entre las varillas.

Salí con mis zapatos de tacón y mi falda de conciertos. La misma falda que mi madre me hizo cuando tenía 16 años, para llevarla en la primera audición que di en el Conservatorio Superior de Música de Madrid. ¿Cómo podría ni siquiera empezar a imaginarme...?

Nos habían dado una tarjeta, y cuando llegué, tuve que buscar la entrada de los artistas. Lo voy a decir otra vez, para disfrutar cómo suena “ LA ENTRADA DE ARTISTAS DEL CARNEGIE HALL”

Después estuve esperando un rato. Me maquillé delante de un espejo gigante con muchas bombillas, y me puse los zapatos de tacón. Nos pusimos en fila para ensayar durante 20 minutes, y entramos en el escenario. Se podía ver el teatro entero, el patio de butacas, los palcos, el entresuelo, las luces…y tocamos un poco. Los dos primeros compases salieron un poco peor. Se podía sentir el susto que llevábamos todos en el cuerpo, y el no querer hacerlo mal. Y el encontrarse con que tu sonido es distinto en el Carnegie de lo que estás acostumbrado a escuchar en tu casa ( lo voy a decir otra vez TU SONIDO EN EL CARNEGIE) Pero luego nos acostumbramos, y todo mejoró, y las notas empezaron a encontrar su sitio en el inmenso espacio del teatro.

Después del ensayo, nos dejaron salir hasta nuestra hora de llama a las 9. Fui por un café y a las nueve, ahí estábamos todos en la sala de la orquesta, de pie, sentados, hablando, tocando, calentando… El sonido de los diferentes instrumentos se mezclaba en el aire, tocando escalas, o pequeños trozos reconocibles de las obras que llevábamos, risas nerviosas el sonido de las cámaras de fotos. Y entonces llegó nuestra llamada.

Nos pusimos en fila parar entrar en el escenario. 10 minutos. Estas es la peor parte. Los diez minutos antes de empezar a tocar. Y allí estábamos, susurrando, concentrándonos. Y salimos al escenario. Y allí estaba el director de la orquesta, en la puerta, sonriendo y animándonos en nuestra salida al escenario.

Las luces brillaban y la audiencia nos recibió con un aplauso. Nos sentamos, calentamos un minuto y el concertino, que es un clarinete, toca un si bemol para los metales y un la para las maderas.

En realidad, ya habíamos afinado más o menos antes de salir a escena, para asegurar. Pero no se lo digáis a nadie.

Entonces el director salió a escena. Otra ronda de aplausos. Nos miró, levantó los brazos y le seguimos, poniéndonos el instrumento en la boca. Un Segundo de complete silencio en un teatro enorme. Marcó la anacrusa y comenzó el viaje.

Después de la obertura de Candide, hubo muchos aplausos. Y entonces tocamos otra muy difícil, una pieza contemporánea llamada Wild Nights. Después de eso, todo era fácil. Tenía más miedo por las dos primeras, así que , después de ellas, me relajé y disfruté de estar ahí, y de la música que estábamos hacienda juntos. Y en los momentos en los que tenía silencios, era maravilloso ver como el director hacía que la música ocurriese, como la batuta iba dictando la música y escuchar a la banda tocar. Y la música seguía flotando alrededor, como magia.

Particularmente, el último acorde de la Procesión de Elsa de Lohengrin. Se quedó en el aire flotando, después de que dejásemos de tocar, todos los sonidos mezclándose en un gran acorde Wagneriano mientras escuchábamos con los instrumentos de la boca, con la tensión de haber tocado

También tocamos otra pieza contemporánea, Pilatus, y la Sinfonía de la Máquina de Escribir, que le encantó a todo el mundo.

Y entonces nos aplaudieron. El director salió de escena y volvió dos veces. Y vi a mis amigos decirme hola desde las butacas, y salimos del escenario como andando en una nube, sonriendo de oreja a oreja y nos abrazamos…Y a fue absolutamente maravilloso-

Hubo una vez que toque en el Carnegie Hall, donde las luces eran brillantes y la música flotaba en el aire. Y de la batuta del conductor, salía magia.

Algunas fotos

Monday, March 2, 2009

No pants ride 2k9/No pants ride 2k9 New York/ Viajar por el metro en bragas

Last Saturday I had one experience of a lifetime: I went on the New York City subway system and took my pants off :D:D

Being pantless on the subway is one of those secret desires hidden secretos in our minds. Everybody has thought this at some point " What if I just took my clothes off here, in the middle of the crowd?" And that is exactly what I did.
New York is full of people, millions of people. So, if you need to do something you just post it around, and hudreds of people come to your call. And that's what happen for this events: hundreds showed up to take their pants off on a train in New York.
We were distributed by lines, ten by wagons, and we stood up, took our pants off and left little by little, and we got on the next train little by little too. And then we walked around all together, in our underwear, and we even went out in te snow.
Some people laughed, some people asked, some people were disgusted, but it was so much fun So,o I did it...Fulfilled one of those fantasies: I took my clothes off in the subway. :D

FIND NOT WALLY, ME Can you find me in here? :D

BUSCA NO A WALLY, SINO A MÍ, ¿me ves en esta foto ? :D

El S'abado tuve una de las experiencias de una vida: mont'e en el metro de Nueva York y me quit'e los pantalones :D:D
Quedarse en bragas en el metro es uno de esos secretos escondidos en nuestra mente Todo el mundo tiene esta idea en alg'un momento " Qu'e pasar'ia si me quito la ropa aqu'i mismo, en medio de la gente?" Y eso es exactamente lo que hice.
New York est'a lleno de gente. As'i que, si necesitas hacer algo, simplemente lo publicas por alg'un sitio, y cientos de personas responden a tu llamada. Y esto es lo que ocurri'o para este evento: cientos de personas se presentaron para quitarse los patalones en Nueva York.
Nos distibuyeronporl'ineas, luego poro vagones, y nos pusimos de pie, nos quitamos los panalones y nos bajamos poco a poco, y lueo nos montamos en el siguiente train tami'en poco a poco. Y luego transbordamos todos juntos en ragas y calzoncillos, e incluso salimos a la nieve.
Alguna gente re'ia, or preguntaba, otra estaba ofendida y asqueada, pero fnos lo pasamos tan bien.
As'i que lo he hecho...Cumplir una de esas fantas'ia. Me e quitado la ropa en el metro :D

Monday, January 19, 2009

A teenager on Iraq / Un adolescente sobre Iraq

I have very strong clear ideas about the Iraq war, and everytime a student talk about it, I try to make them see that there are different points of view, apart from what the government says.
Last week, one of my students said that Osama bin Laden was about to be caught and that the war was going to end as soon as that happenned.
I would have told him that Osama bin Laden has nothing to do with Iraq, that it was a non religious state, that there are lots of innocent people dying there. But I didn't.

He is 15, his mum is 30. On the last day of school before Christmas he came to school really happy and high, because his mum had come back from Iraq for Christmas, and took him downtown ans bought him four diffeent hats with different bat-man logos. After the holidays, his behaviour has been terrible, particularly with female teachers.
So, when he said all that, I just looked at him and listened to that small nuance of hope in betwwen the osama bin ladens, the saddam husseins and the iraq governments that came from his mouth. A very small ray of hope. Hoping for the end of the war, hoping, I suppose, for her mum coming back home safe, away from the bullets, the bombs and the dead.
No point in telling him that his mum is risking her life because of a president's lie, for politics, for nothing, in an unfair stupid pointless war. He is angry enough as it is.

Tengo ideas muy claras y vehementes sobre la guerra de Iraq, y cada vez que un estudiante habla sobre ello, intento hacerle ver que hay diferentes putnos de vista, aparte de la versión oficial del gobierno.
La semana pasada uno de mis estudiantes dijo que Osama bin Laden estaba a punto de ser capturado, y que la guerra iba a terminar tan pronoo como eso pasase.
Le habría dicho que Osama bin Laden no tienen nada que ver con Iraq, que era un estado laico, que hay montones de gente inocente muriendo allí, pero no lo hice.

Tiene 15 años , su madre 30.El útimo día de clase antes de las navidades vino contento e hiperactivo, porque su madre había vuelto de Iraq para las Navidades y le llevó al centro de la ciudad y le compró cuatro gorras diferentes con distintos logos de bat-man.Después de las vacaciones, su comportamiento ha sido terrible, particularmente con las profesoras ( con los hombres se lleva bastasnte mejor)

Así que cuando me dijo todo eso, simplemente le miré y escuché ese pequeño punto de esperanza entre los osama bin ladens,los saddam husseins y los gobiernos de Iraq que salían de su boca. Un pequeño rayo de esperanza.Esperando el final de la guerra, esperando, supongo, que su madre vuelva a casa sana y salva, lejos de las balas, las bombas, los muertos.
¿ Para qué contarle que su madre está arriesgando la vida por culpa de la mentira de un presidente, para nada, por política, en una guerra injusta estúpida y sin sentido? Ya tiene suficiente ira dentro.Ya tiene suficiente cosas con las que luchar.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

New Years Eve in New York- Mysteries of Creation ( Versión en Epañol más abajo)

On the 31st I woke up early in the morning. This year, all that smoking during the holidays, my house was still a mess. I didn’t tidy or anything for christmas in the end.

I was going to go to the laundry, but when I looked outside some snow flakes danced in the wind. Can you imagine how much do you really want to take out a trolley full of dirty clothes in the middle of the snow?

I opened my email, and got the info for the party for the night. It is supposed to be an “underground” kid of thing, (how cool I am now I can hardly stand myself.) The thing is, they do not tell you the place until the day before. In the mail they said that everybody was going to be wearing costumes. And you know how much I love to do that.

So there I go, look around the internet and decide to dress up as Isis, following the topic of gods and goddesses and creation. And I think, “ If I make some Isis wings, I will be able to use them for belly dancing too” I want to start belly dancing, because my therapist, the physical one, not the psychological one, said I could try some gentle dancing…I did not asked the psychological one about it …yet...


So I go to my physical therapy. The snow starts to fall heavily. I finish and ran to look for a fabric shop. And as I am looking in the fabric shop stret, W 39th and 7th, a guy stops the bike in the middle of the snow,and says “ What Are you looking for? You are so pretty.. Give me a kiss” And he holds my had, not the one holding the broken umbrella, the other one, and gives me a little piece of paper, and says "I live alone. This is my number. Call me,. Give me a kiss” So I give him a kind of kiss on his cheek., and cheeky as he is, he laughs and leaves.

I go into the shop and look around. I call Elena one second and say to her “ Elena, for Isis wings, organza or lame,” And she and her mum answer, in 30 seconds, organza. So I buy some nice orange organia fabric to make the wings. And a belly dancing waist thing to dance. Thinking I could dance.

Then I go back to the doctors. The doctor appointment is going to be described in two posts, so I’ll keep you expecting that.

Then I leave and go to a grate costume shop and get some eye lashes, and some snake bracelets ( the cheapest), and go home to start making my cosutme.

I got home at about five and called my mum, in the middle of her New year’s Eve dinner, to get some tips for the sawing. Of course…no sawing machine, and, in organza, you always have to saw by hand.

So at 12 o’clock in Spain,I called home and eat the grapes. I remember, last year, at 6, I was in a much harder position in the hands of a very big Russian dermathologist. At least this year, I had already finished with the doctors ( I insist, next two posts) A couple more tips and I kept working.

So I kept trying to make my wings, and in the end, without finishing the borders, and just the easiest stich…to just hold the fabric. I would have used safety pins, but I could not find them.

I got hungry so I called the chinese restaurant at 8. This was my New Years eve dinner, sweet and sour pork, but from a New York Chinatown restaurant :D I gave a good tip to the poor man coming on New Year’s Eve in the middle of the snow to deliver some food to a crazy Spaniard.

I kind of finished the wings after nine and started with the other things I was going to wear. I took a quick shower. So this is how I spent my New Year’s Eve, sawing and eating chinese food.

I left my house at 11:40, thinking, “ I am going to be on the train at 12” It would not have been the first time. I remember once, when I was younger, I ate the grapes in the train, and I got so upset I could not stop sobbing for a while.

This time, I asked Isis, who resemblance I was trying to get, to get me there on time. And after looking at the minutes on the clock of the train go away with each stop, I got out, asked somebody and ran to a warehouse in the middle of a lonely place in Brooklyn. And I just got there when I heard Happy New Year. I missed the countdown, but I got the cheers and shouts. I also missed the time.

I put my wings on in the place, because it was freezing freezing freezing cold. And I went around, took some pictures, talked to some people, danced a bit, even when the doctor had not particularly adviced tt ( I insist, two more posts for that). I had a great time. Some people were wearing costumes, some weren’t, but the wings became part of me. It is really hard to move through the crowd with a pair of wings without hitting anybody.

In the end, I finished the party at somebody’s place, and I ended up going home with my Egyptian make all smudged up and my wings in a bag, dressed as a belly dancer, at five in the afternoon, when the spirit of the new year was starting to fade away.

You can click here for more photos.

You can watch the video, just to get a feeling of the place. Sound is awful, but you can play "Looking for Wally" and find me vaguely trying to move my wings

Año Nuevo en Nueva York -Mysteries of Creation 2008 ( English version above)

El 31 me desperté temprano,. Este año, tanto fumar en als vacaciones, al final ni aareglé la casa para Navidad ni ná. Así que me levanto con la intención de ir a lavandería, porque tenemos una lavadora APRA todo el edificio en el sótano, pero pesnsaba que era pequeña. Miro por la ventana y veo unos pequeños copos de nieve que de vez en cuando caen. ¿ Sabéis las ganas que tiene una de cogerse el carrito con la ropa de tres semanas y tirar para la calle con la ropa sucia en medio de la nieve?

Abro el mail y me llega el mail de la fiesta a la que quiero ir : Mysteries of Creation.

Como se supone que es una fiesta “ underground, o sea, que cool que me he vuelto , sabes, pues no te dicen el sitio hasta el día anterior, porque debe ser legal a medias solamente. Abro el mail y pone que todo el mundo va disfrazado. Con lo que me mola a mi disfrazarme

Así que allá que voy, miro por internet y decido vestirme de Isis, siguiendo el tema de la fiesta de dioses y diosas. Y pienso “ si me hago unas alas de Isis, también podré usarlas para Bely danging”Quiero empezar a bailar danza del vientre porque mi terapeuta, el físico que no el psicolólgico, me dijo que podía hacer un poco de baile suave…No le he preguntado al psicológico sobre el baile…aún.


Me voy a rehabilitación. La nieve empieza a caer en masa. Termino y corro a buscar una tienda de telas. Y cuando estoy mirando en la calle de las tiendas de ropa, la W39 con la 7ª, un tío en bici se para, en medio de la Nevada, y me dice “ ¿ qué estás buscando?Eres tang uapa. Dame un beso” Y me gcoge la mano, la otra que no sujeta el paraguas y me da un trozo de papel pequeño y me dice “Vivo solo. Este es mi número. Llámame. Dame un beso” Así que le doy un casto beso en la mejillas, y él se ríe y se va

Entro en la tienda, miro y pregunto y llamo a Elena a España y le digo “ Elena, par alas alas de Isis, organza o Lame”y ella y su madre, a miles de kilómetros un poco flipadas, en 30 segundos contestan “ Organza” Así que compro organza para hacer las alas, y un pañuelo de bailar danza del vientre. Pensando que podría bailar.
Entonce voy al médico. la cita del médico la voy a describir dentro de dos posts, así que os dejo expectantes.
Entonces me voy a una tienda de disfraces y me compro unas pestañas postizas brillantes y dos serpientes de brazalete, o brazaletes de serpientes ( los más baratos) y me voy a casa a empezar a hacer el disfraz

Llegué a casa y sobre las cinco llamé a mi madre, en la mitad de su cena de nochevieja, para preguntarle algunos trucos de costura. Por supuesto...nada de máquina de costura y, de todas fromas, la organza es mejor coserla a mano.

A las doce de España volví a llamar para comerme las uvas con mi familia. Recuerdo que el año pasado, a als seis, estaba en una posición bastante más difícil que esta, en manos de un dermatólogo ruso gigante. Al menos, este año ya había acabado con los médicos ´( insisto, dentro de dos posts)
Así que, después d eun par de consejos más, intenté seguir cosiéndome las alas y , al final, sin acabar los bordes, y todo hilvanado...lo justo para mantener la tela. habría usado imperdibles, pero no pude encontrarlos.
Me entró hambré y llamé a un restaurante chino a las ocho. Esta fue mi cena de nochevieja, cerdo agridulce, pero de un restaurante del Chinatown de Manhattan :D Le di una buena propina al pobre hombre que vino a las ocho de la noche el día de nochevieja en medio de la nieve para traer comida a una española loca.
Acabé las alas después de las nueve y comencé con las otras cosas que iba a llevar. Me di una ducha rápida.
Y así es como pasé la nochevieja, cosiendo y comiendo comida china.
Dejé mi casa alas doce menos veinte pensando, " Voy a pasar las uvas en el metro" no habría sido la primera vez. Una vez, cuando era más joven, me comí las uvas en el metro y me dio tanta pena que me tire un buen rato llorando.
Esta vezle pedí a Isis, cuyo aspecto estaba intentando emular, que me llevase allí a tiempo. Y depués de ver los minutos pasar con cada estación de metro, salí, le pregunté a alguien y corrí hacia un almacén en medio de un solitario lgar de Brooklyn. Y justó llegué allí cuando escuché " Feliz año nuevo" Me perdí la cuenta atrás y las actuaciones...pero escuché la alegría y los gritos.
Me pusé allí las alas porque hacía mucho frío, mucho mucho mucho mucho frío. Y estuve por allí, hice fotos, hablé con gene, bailé un poco, incluso cuando el médico no lo había recomendado ( insisto, dos posts) Me lo pasé muy bien. Alguna gente llevaba disfraz, algunos no, pero las alas se convirtienro en parte de mi.Es muy difícil moverse entre la multitud con un par de alas sin darle a nadie con ellas.
Al final, acabé la fiesta en casa de alguien, y terminé volviendo a casa con mi maquillaje de egipcia corrido, las alas en una bolsa y vestida de bailarina oriental con botas, a las cinco de la tarde, cuando el espíritu de año nuevo ya se estaba desvaneciendo.

Pinchar aquí para ver más fotos.

El vídeo se oye muy mal, y tampoco es que se vea de maravilla, pero da una pista de como era el sitio. ÿ podéid jugar a " Buscando a Wally", e intertar verme vagamente peleándome con las alas mientras bailo.