24.7.06



Estos son los dias. Si, estos son los dias.
(laboratoristas con María Negroní)

Tijuana esta k arde!

Casi arde Tijuana durante dos horas
Histórico calor; llega a 40 grados
Ana Cecilia Ramírez

TIJUANA, Baja California(PH)
Protección Civil declaró que no hay razón que explique por qué se presentó este fenómenoEl calor en la ciudad fue tanto el día de ayer que el termómetro llegó hasta 40 grados centígrados durante dos horas, informó Marco Santillán, inspector de la Dirección General de Aeronáutica Civil.El clima en la ciudad se había manejado con 32 o 33 grados centígrados como temperatura máxima, comentó, sin embargo ayer llegó a los 40 grados centígrados y así se mantuvo aproximadamente de las 12:00 a las 14:30 horas.Poco después de mediodía, las páginas de Internet de The Weather Channel y de Yahoo marcaban que la temperatura en Tijuana era de 40 grados centígrados.Después de las 14:30 horas, la temperatura bajó a 32 grados y llegó hasta 29 a las 17:00 horas aproximadamente, según el portal de The Weather Channel.Es lo más alto que se ha estado en esta temporada de calor, destacó Marco Santillán, pues en días anteriores lo máximo eran 32 o 33 grados, pero no como ayer, que el termómetro registró 40.José Luis Rosas Blanco, director estatal de Protección Civil, dijo que en muchas de las zonas de la ciudad los registros que se tuvieron fueron de 36 ó 37 grados.Indicó que no se tiene una razón específica que explique por qué se han presentado estos fenómenos atípicos para la región, pero se han dado cuenta de que ha llegado humedad del Golfo.“Son fenómenos que se están dando a nivel mundo, el calentamiento global, el desfasamiento de las temporadas, en fin, los cambios climatológicos a nivel mundial es lo que usamos como referencia”, agregó.Aún no se tienen datos exactos para hacer los comparativos, pero se rompieron records de temperaturas calientes en estas fechas, apuntó.“Entre más nos alejamos de la costa, más aumentan las temperaturas”, explicó, “entonces en los límites de Tijuana ahí se pudieron haber presentado los más altos, porque Tecate estuvo a 42, 43 grados”.Rosas Blanco dijo que las condiciones para el día de hoy van a ser muy similares a las de ayer, si acaso uno o dos grados menos solamente.Poco después del mediodía ayer, en el Centro de la ciudad la gente sólo buscaba una sombra para poder refugiarse del incesante Sol.Nota Publicada: 23/7/2006 9:24 am
Ay! Y uno por estos lares. Buen recuerdo del Norte mas al Norte.
( y de nuevo sin acentos)
( the smart boy)


And so, I used to be such a quite boy. I can see myself since I was five up to eight . I could see that time. I can remember a lot of details. I can think of all the words people told me. I can still listen the words, the jokes. But what I can see is my Grandma. I don’t still know how much important is her existence to me. I can’t imagine world without her. I mean, I cannot imagine my world without her. Since I remember she has been there with me. I have many memories in which we are expending time in many ways. We, my Grandma and I.

Postcard #1: She is near of the door, she is doing something that is still unknown to me. I ask : Mom, what are you doing ? And my Grandma answer something like she is tejiendo. I can see all of her work. Such a hard work. My Grandma has always that kind of patient. Her eyes are always waiting for something. I don’t know what is that something. I still don’t know. But what I can tell you is that in the house, my house , there are a lot of carpetitas , made by her. They cover almost every space of my house. And since that moment I knew I won’t never leave that house. It is my home. I know.

Postcard #2 : I was the first son, nephew, grandson. All my aunts and uncles were single up to when I was seven. All of them were enrolled on their lives: the school, work, friends, parties, etc. But anyway they play with me. Even my eighteen uncle, Martin, to whom sometimes I used to sleep with, the always angry- hungry uncle Joel ( he used to simulate he was angry at me just for after, when I was crying, star to laugh and give me candies or money to go to the tiendita ---yes, he was a little rude but now I see him as a father and I know about his real feelings that he is always trying to hide). My aunt Cristina is saying that she is never got marry, that if she needs a son I could be that son, by that reason she is always taking me out : the cinema, the park, the zoo. Some years later she is getting marry. I remember my grandma crying a lot. And I remember my aunt Cristina smiling a lot. My house. My family.

Postcard # 3: As and only child may be my childhood was a little lonely. I remember myself looking for play-partners. At noon or after lunch I was always looking for them. We used to play wrong-baseball( that is baseball but with our own rules). We used to play to hacer galletitas, so we built our microwave: I can see that wrong-stove dogged out in the earth of the backyard of my friend’s house. Before going with my friend, my grandma advised me about count my toys. After count my toys she adviced me again to be careful and don’t forget nothing. And to stay at home before lunch or dinner. I didn’t forget nothing . Neither her voice.

Postcard # 4: Maybe is late. We are almost running. We are crossing the big yard near of our house. A place where the elders used to play soccer or baseball. Is Monday morning. My hand in my grandma’s hand. She is telling to me: ándale que se nos hace tarde. In Mondays morning we were always late for school. I can’t remember if there were excuses from my Grandma to Lulu or Eva, my teachers, about. What I remember is that school days were for me like a daily party. When time to pick me up to home, my Grandma was, again, late. Five sad minutes. But when she appeared to take my hand I was able to smile again. I can still smile.

Postcard # 5: Is the living room. That space: blue walls, green doors, and the windows. My grandpa, Martin, is watching TV. My grandma is tejiendo. I ´m playing in the floor. I had already built my city –set: cars, buildings, maybe a bakery, maybe a bank, a lot of invisible people. I say to my grandma and grandpa something like ---You love a lot right?? Because for that I have a lot of toys. And my grandma answers something like: we love you a lot, otherwise we were not able to let you make all of this disaster. And I continue with the disasters.

Postcard # 6: Maybe it was after second year at elementary school. Every time that my grandma remember she couldn’t go to school and that she cannot read and write, there were some tears in her eyes. I feel so sad. I decided to teach her how to read and write .All family was agreed. For my grandma and I, that was one of our favorite activities. In that moment uncles and aunts told that I was a smart boy. Now, after years I don’t know if she remember the lessons. I always wonder about that. And I also miss the time when I used to be smart.

Postcard #7 : She is telling us about Mexico City: the buildings, the cars, the highways, the stores, the sky ,. About her free Sundays at the Parque Mexico. About her employers: Jews, Italians, and Germans. She remembers a Jew-single-lady: she wanted to adopt her. About her work as a maid for this people. She says she wants to come back to those places: San Ángel, Polanco, la Colonia Roma. We are still planning that return. I know that she wants to come back just to leave again. Just in order she can leave again. This time: leave, this time, forever.

Postcard #8 : By the time my Mom married for second time, my granphas were very angry at her. She was planning somewhere with her new husband. She had decided to take me with her. By that moment I was not conscious of that entire situation. Maybe because I was a child or maybe because I was in my own world. After talking with my grandfather, my Mom decided to let me choose. So she asked me about go with her or stay with my grandpas. I decided to stay with my Mom, Maria, my grandma, my second mom, like she used to say referring herself. Since that moment I still there. Inside that picture. My Mom (my second Mom) is giving me a big huge. She is crying and I don’t know why. My Mom, Adela, is leaving. I can see her back. I can see her closing the red door. Really, a nice picture.

The way my Mom--- is not the second or the first, is just my Mom--- María has to telling me that I will be always her Abraham is by cooking, at all my birthdays and other special occasions, delicious and the biggest tamales I have ever seen: inside them is a completely chicken piece . It’s a nice way to say it. It’s a nice way that makes me remember everything. Everything.

Abraham Morales Moreno,
Julio de 2006,
Tijuana, B.C.
(posteado en el FCEUsa)
* este texto es un ejercicio escritural propuesto por Ruth Behar, dentro del Laboratorio Fronterizo de Escritura. Bajo la premisa de escribir acerca de aquello que yo considere magical thinking.








Uno va al Mar,

Dentro de toda ese mundo que uno dice cuando se dice la palabra Tijuana, he aqui una anecdota un tanto cuanto bizarre:

Domingo: decidir que el Domingo es el dia perfecto para comenzar a saturar el archivo fotografico. Repetir: no me puedo ir de Tijuana sin fotografias. Decir: quiero fotografias : de la linea, de la calle Revolucion, del burro- cebra, del movimiento, de la velocidad. Del Mar.

Y uno va al Mar del Norte como alguien ya dijo:

desprotegido

Y si uno se acerca, se aproxima, se abisma.

Despues: En esa parte. Esa zona donde el Mar es , tambien, frontera hay mucha gente: ninos, aves, mujeres, hombres: todos yendo de un lado a otro.

Despues: a lo lejos, en el Otro Lado del mar: gente en la playa, sentados, comiendo, platicando, corriendo, acercandose al Mar.

Yo:

pregunto a un sujeto que si es posible ir hacia ese Otro Lado, el tipo me dice que si. Que si se puede. Y he ahi mis cinco minutos de absoluta distraccion o de rigurosa estupidez( por decirlo de modo amable).

Y cruzo.

Y avanzo.

Y hasta me doy varios lujos: pensar en el paisaje. Observar el mar y su territorio. Observar esa grisura. Pensar este Mar es gris. Sentir el aire frio del Mar. Pensar en la leve niebla alrededor. Correr: el pensamiento estupido de que la sensacion de libertad frente a un Mar inmenso, desprovisto, solo, es unica.


Y estoy frente al Mar del Norte, solo yo y el mar, cuando aparecen los agentes de inmigracion. Descienden de jeeps que arriban a toda velocidad. What ya doing , sir??? Identification ?? El dialogo que siguio no debio ser muy logico. De lo que recuerdo es que solo murmuraba que estaba ahi para sacar algunas fotos, que alguien me habia dicho que se podia cruzar. Despues el official me dijo que era obvio que me habian dicho eso solo para ver que sucedia: yo como carne de canon. Que si sabia que era delito federal. No se que mas pude haber dicho. El hecho es que los agentes me dejaron ir: es probable que mi outfit dominguero y mi camara en mano me hayan ayudado a convencerlo. Respire hasta que estuve de regreso. De regreso. Ante miradas curiosas, atonitas , burlonas algunas, de toda le gente cerca de esa valla.
mis cinco minutos de ilegal y delincuente


mi primer delito en toda mi existencia

(por suerte no consumado)

la primera vez que la palabra delito esta asociada conmigo


es extrano escribir todo esto

muy extrano



Que hubiera pasado si me cargan?

Una lanota o estaria encerrado, esperando a que mis papas vivneiran por mi, como bebito ( Amaranta said)


Esto es solo una imagen del Mar del Norte, todo gracias a mi distraccion irremediablemente genetica. Al menos eso quiero creer. Aunque habra bastantes opiniones.


Uno va mar desprotegido.

Uno , con suerte, mucha suerte, regresa.

En tanto esta vineta desde el Mar del Norte.
[ ni modo, y sin acentos porque este post se escribe territorio ,ahora si , gringo]
( y esta maquina quiere obligarme a escribir en spanich , yo ya no toy pa mas batallas, al menos no por ahora)





22.7.06

comenzar el relato... por donde comenzar el relato. Quiza diciendo: Tijuana makes me feel happy!!


Hay siempre un algo que decir, siempre.

4.7.06

Jen:


un buen feliz aniversario, gracias por la tarjeta chidisima!!!

Ik hou van jou !!!



:)