Cerati

These are sad days for music. Gustavo Cerati, 50, one of the most amazing guitarists and songwriters is in critical condition. He suffered some sort of cerebral stroke, after performing a show in Caracas, Venezuela almost two weeks ago. While latest news on his state are somehow optimistic on a mid/long term recovery, the whole chain of events has been terrible news.

Even if Cerati is not dead, in some sense we all know that things will never be same again. I have to admit that during these days I have felt a bit as I imagine Michael Jackson's fans must have felt after his death. While music is supposed to be universal, I am aware that it is hard to explain with words all the emotions that Cerati's music conveys and, more importantly, the significance of his music in my everyday life. Perhaps I could try mentioning that Soda Stereo (the legendary band that Cerati led for many years) was crucial in my own approximations to music, and perhaps I could point you to great songs such as this and this. Or perhaps I could mention how much I admired Cerati reinventing himself after dissolving Soda Stereo, in a phase of my life in which I was also trying also to understand my own position in the world. And then I would probably tell you about this wonderful song, truly representative of those days. Another choice would be to point you to some of his experiments with classic and electronic music, or to introduce you to one of his recent songs. However, I fear that whatever attempt along these lines might not be convincing enough.

Very often, the consequences of what occurs are way more frightening than the events themselves. Nowadays the lack of imagination pervades everything, and it is actually the rule rather than the exception; the thought of the music scene without Cerati (and with other great artists in a decadent state) makes me sad. The absence appears as pointless as what it is left.

Update on Mockus (II)

Finally, presidential elections in Colombia will take place next Sunday the 30th. I have discussed it here and here. According to polls, two candidates still have options for winning the elections: decent, independent Antanas Mockus and the despicable human being Juan Manuel Santos (you might like to read a profile of all the candidates). Mockus managed to have a considerable advantage in polls, but then Santos "re-engineered" his campaign, a process that included hiring a Venezuelan expert in black propaganda. Also, Mockus made a number of mistakes in public events, making unfortunate/confusing statements about crucial issues. Such mishaps were effectively exploited by Santos campaign, I think.

As a result of both things, Mockus and Santos are now (almost) tied in polls (35% vs. 34%), and the final outcome is quite uncertain, essentially because it is known that polls reflect well the situation in middle/large cities, but not that in small cities and the countryside. In fact, in places away from the cities, the so-called electoral machinery --the network of corruption that is able to buy votes and carry out frauds in final results-- is known to be rather effective. This would benefit Santos and candidates from traditional parties but not Mockus. Another element of uncertainty is given by the very young people who are expected to vote for the first time. (In Colombia you can vote once you're 18; vote is not mandatory.) Most of them would support Mockus, but it cannot be taken for granted that they all will actually go to vote at the end, as this is the most skeptical segment of the population able to vote.

The most probable situation is that Mockus and Santos will go into a second round on 20 June. Polls indicate that while Santos would win the first round, Mockus would win the second one. Let's see how it goes.

Order does matter

The other night, while walking around central Lisbon with a friend, I found by accident the Embassy of Colombia in Portugal. It is located in a historical palace (Palácio Sotto-Mayor). Oddly enough, only one side of the palace seems to correspond to the embassy; also in the palace there is a bank and a hotel. I found it a bit weird, as I would have expected the embassy to have a whole building, even if small and modest, for the offices and the residence of the ambassador. I was intrigued immediately about the seemingly hybrid nature of the palace, and the role of the Colombian embassy. I went for further information to the awful website of the Colombian embassy. Apart from a few pictures, there is nothing regarding the residence itself. However, and as part of my lack of focus when I am online wasting my time, I managed to find a list of "famous Colombians" as part of the website.

The list is certainly insightful, and composed of notable individuals, mostly artists and scientists. All names are fairly reasonable, at least if you think from an average Colombian perspective. However, it was the order of the names in the list what shocked me. While the two names at the top of the list (Gabriel García Márquez and Fernando Botero) admit no discussion, ranked third and fourth were Shakira and Juanes, the two singers. I find this outrageous, especially considering the fifth entry: Dr. Rodolfo Llinás, neuroscientist, who is considered a founding father of modern brain science. As a matter of fact, while Llinás has made notable contributions to the understanding of the nature of the human brain, Shakira and Juanes have ruined thousands of brains with their "songs". I therefore fail to find a reason to explain the fact that Dr. Llinás is ranked only fifth. (Popularity or fame is not a good reason to promote the individuals of a country. If that were the case, the list should include Pablo Escobar, who is known everywhere.)

Independently of the ridiculous ranking in the embassy website, I must confess that Dr. Llinás is probably my favorite Colombian abroad. Educated at Bogotá and Australia, he has developed his career in the United States, and is currently working at NYU. He also collaborates with NASA. Apart from his decisive contributions in science, in interviews Dr. Llinás always finds a way of putting his research in easy-to-grasp terms. By looking at the humor and audacity when he expresses himself, he also seems to have a nice personality. Dr. Llinás is the author of I of the Vortex: From Neurons to Self, a book for a general audience in which his view on brain organization and functioning is presented. To get to know better this Colombian genius, you could take a look to this very interesting interview which is, at the very least, thought-provoking.

Little victories

As I had commented previously, the Portuguese system cares a lot about where you live. So, in one of the steps to formalize my residence in Portugal, the other day I went to register my address (and to obtain an associated certificate) to the Junta de Freguesia of my neighborhood. The Junta is, roughly speaking, the local administrative unit at that each neighborhood. I went there at 9.15, as I had seen online that it opens at 9am. To my surprise, the Junta was closed when I got there. I waited for a few moments, but as bad for waiting indefinitely as I am, I gave up and started walking back home. I had walked away for a few meters when someone else wishing to enter appeared. She worked there, and we were able to enter together.

The building in which the Junta is located is simply beautiful, full of impressive azulejos, and very well preserved overall. Once inside, it was easy to find the office where I should get my certificate. There was a lady, somewhere between 40 and 50, who had just arrived (it was 9.30 already, and the thing is supposed to open at 9am, but anyway). I tried to ask her about the thing I needed, but she replied rudely saying that she needed some time to fix things there before. She certainly took her time, and at the end she put on one of those "waist bags" one usually wears for travelling. The bag was full of keys and two cell phones. She was clearly the one in charge of that office.

Once I got her attention, she was unconvinced about my case, as she needed a proof of residence (yes, exactly the thing I needed from her!) and I only had a leasing contract of my room, in English. She didn't accept the contract, so things were in a dead end for a second. Luckily, I had a document from my bank with my address and that worked just fine. (Indeed, the circularity was broken at the bank, as they had accepted the contract in English.) The problem with the document of the bank is that the gorgeous blond woman there wrote my address incorrectly, so the document had an incorrect address. Stupid blond. Somehow I managed to explain this to the lady at the Junta office, and she didn't complain. Lucky me.

Then it was a matter of the lady making copies of my passport and other documents, and me filling in some form. Easy. The problem is that she received a personal call on one of her two mobiles and so the copies took like 10 minutes. I realized the level of competence of the lady when she asked me about my nationality: she had taken many copies of the passport and yet she was unable to infer my nationality. By then, she was already kind. She checked the form I had filled in, and found the names of my parents very funny to read. I had forgotten to fill the field "marital status". She looked at me in the eyes for some long seconds and replied jokingly "definitely single!". She surely thought I am too young and handsome to be married :)

At the end, she entered the information into some database, confirmed again the names of my parents (I still fail to see what's so peculiar about them), complained about the computer, and printed the certificates. Then, using the set of keys in her waist bag, she opened some closet in which there were some other keys that would allow her to unlock the machine that puts some special stamps on the certificates. She put the stamps and that was it.

Smiling, she charged me 7 euros (!) and I thought immediately about this Portuguese thing of ripping off foreigners. Not so frequent, I must admit. The classic example is taxis, but in a country where a coffee costs 50 cents, I am sure that paying 7 euros for two identical public documents is an abuse. However, I payed without complaining: at the end, I wasn't able to complain anyway, I obtained what I wanted --and immediately in the same day-- using the very limited Portuguese I have. So I was very satisfied. This is what little victories are about.

Letting things go

Several of the people I graduated with in high school are also recent facebook contacts. I am quite curious about what they look and how they think at present, and to discover what they did with their lives during these ten years. Nothing strange about this. However, in some cases I have noticed that some of them react and behave (say, by commenting on pictures) exactly with the same spirit and expressions as they did ten years ago. I find that a bit disturbing. It could appear as if they were appealing to memories of the past to compensate something that's missing now; I hope I am mistaken. It's like they were pretending that time hasn't passed, that we all are still the same. And that's not the case, independently of whether they/we accept it or not.

All of this got me thinking. Granted: it is human nature to be afraid of the uncertain future and to rely on the cozy memories of the past instead. In general, it is very difficult to let things go, to accept that a certain phase of our life has passed and that a new one is upon us. It happens with relationships (of all kinds), friendships, summer holidays, jobs, and many other things. It is certainly not about neglecting or ignoring the past, or denying that it was fun or enriching while it lasted, but about accepting that things change, that sooner or later every phase ends, and that one must move on. Needless to say, to let things go and move on is certainly easier said than done.

The Two Pants

I don't remember why or when the other day I remembered that for a long period of my life I only had at most a pair of jeans. This seemingly irrelevant memory brings back a number of other, hopefully more insightful, memories of my childhood.

Life was way simpler back then. Jeans were part of the uniform during primary and high school. The uniform consisted of: black leather shoes, white socks, (dark) blue jeans, a black or brown belt, a white polo shirt (a specific model that one had to buy at the high-school, at the beginning of the academic year). The uniform was mandatory: every morning, teachers would check that one would wear it correctly. (A "decent hair cut" was also considered as part of the uniform, by the way.)

As I mentioned before, every academic year I only had two pairs of jeans. The first pair was the "old one", which was inherited from the previous year. Hence, it wasn't not that blue, and often was patched around the knees, as I was good at breaking pants while playing football. My mom was always keen to patch broken jeans and socks. One of the joys of beginning a new academic year was the idea of having a new pair of jeans, one that wouldn't have any of the embarrassing marks and defects of the old pair. The two pairs of jeans were to be used alternatively, one week one pair, the following week the other pair. (This would give enough time to wash and iron the jeans.) I remember that my mood was a bit better when using the new pair of the year, as somehow they made me feel more elegant and confident. So cool. Wearing the good, new pair, however, entailed some responsibility, as one had to be careful of not doing things that would break or ruin them too fast. The weeks with the "old pair" were then not that bad, as one could care less about the jeans when playing and getting dirt: in any case, the "old pair" would be history at the following June, when the academic year ended. Some sort of "pant-based" equilibrium, you could say.

While having only two pairs of jeans for going to school was probably a consequence of the financial limitations of my family during part of my school life, I don't keep negative memories of that period. Rather on the contrary, all the memories I have go beyond any negative aspect: together they represent the many efforts that my parents did to make sure that I would receive a decent education. (Not a trivial task when you have four kids.) Now that I have apparently reached the end of my formal education, it seems only fair to acknowledge, once again, all of their efforts.

Lisbon: Medley

Here's a collection of things that I have found curious, remarkable, or funny during my first weeks in Lisbon.

• This might sound stupid to Portuguese readers, but the names of the days confuse me a lot. While in my mind the week starts on Monday (and hence Monday is the first day of the week), the Portuguese language conveys a slightly different idea: indeed, Monday in Portuguese is segunda-feira, which could be literally translated as "second fair". (Segunda is also the word in Spanish for the ordinal second). The names for the other days follow the same idea and so, for instance, Friday (the fifth day of my week) is "sixth fair". This was a mess at the beginning; now I am more used to the idea.
• Portuguese people are unable to pronounce my name properly. No surprise. My name is quite challenging for Portuguese, who have produced new funny approximations. Interestingly, a few people here have managed to pronounce it correctly, which both makes me very happy and represents a shame for those who cannot pronounce it correctly :)
• There are many Spanish people here, which is not a surprise, given that Spain is so close. You see lots of tourists, and I assume that they are the cause that one sees Don Juan Carlos so often. I have discovered that I find Spanish people very irritating sometimes, specially when they are in groups, as they are often noisy and vulgar. I really look forward to meet Spanish people who would help me to change this perception.
• The rice pudding one usually gets as a dessert here is prepared in exactly the same way as they do it in Colombia. (With the cinnamon and everything!) This has brought immense joy to my lunch time.
• The first times I went to the supermarket here I was amazed that the cashier would pack my things for me. Not only: she would do it correctly and carefully. This occurred even with different cashiers. Sadly, soon I discovered that cashiers in Portugal are as in everywhere else in the world.
• Bureaucracy here is as tedious as it is in Italy. I am particularly surprised by the fact that everyone wants to see original documents (they don't trust photocopies) and that the Portuguese state is particularly interested in recording your residence address: every procedure requires a proof of residence, something annoying if you just got here and are living in a temporary place. I find it obsessive this interest in your address (after all, in Colombia you don't have to register your address, and Italy they are not strict about this), but Portuguese people seem to find it quite normal.
• The weather here is extremely nice. People here keep telling me that I shouldn't be so happy about it, as I haven't experienced the rain season. I understood them very well when it rained a bit, on a weekend like two weeks ago. It was quite impressive: I had never seen such a violent way of raining! It is literally nature's anger in the form of water.
• In front of Lisbon there is a river (the Tagus) that some people could confuse with the sea. Crossing the Tagus (that is, going to the south of Lisbon) it's my work, so I should spend significant time commuting. I like it, though. Once at the other side of the river I should take a "surface metro" --I would call it tram-- built by Siemens for the city of Almada. It is extremely slow, essentially because the railway lines were designed with a lot of curves, and the tram practically stops at every curve. I often remember the tram in Grenoble, which was way faster, even with similar curves. I am afraid that Siemens ripped off the good people of Portugal; they should have built an Alstom Citadis instead.
• Coffee is important here. While the machines you see in bars are essentially Italian, beans are a bit different, somehow more toasted. The resulting coffee is of course different, with a stronger taste, and you get more quantity. In fact, a "short coffee" is commonly called "Italian", in reference to the Italian espresso. Coffee is also quite cheap: standard price is 50 cents. I still need to get used to the Portuguese style for coffee.
• Preliminary evidence indicates that Portuguese people think that the average Brasilian person is stupid. Interestingly, Brasilian people think exactly the same of the average Portuguese person. I find this surprising and funny. So far my evidence amounts to jokes in both directions, but I promise to look further into this.