Monday, 8 July 2013

existential carousel, spin

Deadly weather. Summer has been kind to us all so far. With this week being particularly good. Job life (as usual, and convenient in my life) has been kind as well, and unlike most gastronomic slaves around the globe (and here in Ireland as well) i found myself with the ashtonishing news that we basically work just a few days in July and not at all in August. So the craic is that until septmeber, loads of sun. Im starting to think that i might be slightly allergic to steady jobs. 
(i can see all of my friends having no surprise at this statement, reinforcing the idea of me being a idle bastard... wouldnt blame them tho.)

What do i do with all this time? I wish i could say "im focusing on writing and other sort of artsy activities" but sadly its not the case. BBQ and partying has been present. I saw Blondie and Devendra Banhart so far, and im waiting eagerly to Grizzly bear, Edward Sharpe and a few festivals like Longitude, Reading and Electric Picnic. I am trying to give my moleskine a more daily use but so far it has been nothing but a subtle effort, so it remains a hipster element (one more to the leather satchel!).  

Im doing my best trying to understand irish girls, so far i had no luck. For those not in touch with hows the reality down here, ill give you a vil picture, a satirical hyperbole for you to understand what i mean: It all seems like an acid puke, a psychotropical heavy-trip, a bunt-and-kitsch distortion of reality. Whats behind the leading aesthetics remains a mistery to me. Dye your hair blond is the first step. Of course, go for the Ombre ("californian style" for the more trashier way to describe it). Next, its the orange foundation for the face. "a fake tan" some might say, but let me say that i have never ever saw a natural-tanned face gone all tangy-cheese-Dorito before. After that is the clothing, the worst combination available in Urban Outfitters (which is not usually bad itself but this "barbie wannabes" make an extra effort) and then you'll see a fluorescent mischemaschung, a character you might expect to find in a chapter of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. In the very streets and pubs of Dublin. 

But of course, not all of the girls are like that. You'll find the likes that knows Andy Warhols work apart from Marilyn Monroe portrait. The ones that embrace their paleness proudly, and wear only the just amount of make-up to go out. Whose outfit is either lovely or ok, but never trashy. With those, im still having trouble to understand how the game is played. The ways in here are completely opposite to uruguays (would not state its better or worse, its just different). So in the last few months i have been kissed out of the blue while dancing a fair amount of times without really quite understand what was going on (once i almost got beaten up by an angry boyfriend.. trustory). Back home we need (or i usually need) a fair amount of time talking before getting anything, after that is relatively easy to go further. In here on the other hand, things seem to be working slightly different. So after the kiss, its the time to be gentle, buy a drink and chat. Part in which i have failed, because i was in uruguay's mindset thinking "she kissed me, lets get the hell out of here" so... i can see where i went wrong. Time will tell if i succeed or not... it's not a main concern anyway.

In a more-personal piece of news, i came across Lauren Leto's "judging a book by its lover" at amazon an immediately went for it. HILARIOUS. I would never consider myself a "bookcat" (author's term) because my reading habits had become in the last years kinda lame, trying to get a good rythm back. Still i've read enough to understand most of what she was saying, or joking about, and when not, try to write down any book that seemed worth-reading. But i dont remember being that amused when reading. I felt like a child thats about to do something forbidden, expectant of what she might say about the authors i like, the profiles i fit in, or the same with people i know. I read the whole thing in two days. Yesterday (a lovely sunday) i decided to go to the park, enjoy the sun and do some serious reading that lasted at least 3 hours of pure-reading. Today, i killed the rest during the morning. To read someone whos such a well-read author made me feel actually so left behind. The inner writer in me actually died a little out of self dissapointment for not being able to say "i know what she's talking about!" but luckily i'd be able to pull off one of Laurens tips and get away with it. When it comes to the parts i relate. I must say that my bookshelf might have looked as the frustated artist's one, specially because the Bukowski and the Marky Marks bottle (which i totally did have). Went a little annoyed when describing "where wild things are" (you dont wanna mess with that)  and felt relief at describing people who read Hemingway as "cottage owners" (not bad in comparison of the likes of Brönte sisters fans, Nicholas Sparks or Stephanie Meyers). So now i am ready to jump into the next book, following Leto's recommendations: The Dud Avocado by Elaine Dundy.

Im going to the west-coast for a little escapade from Dublins concrete landscapes to seize the good weather properly. Its actually promising. So more on that on the next post i guess.

Monday, 10 June 2013


Summer has arrived to Dublin and it only means one thing: BBQ season is ON. It is indeed fascinating how prone people is in here to spend time outdoors, and it does not matter how cozy the gardens are or how "small" these grills appears to be (against a Parrilla its very small) they manage to enjoy a whole day among friends, seizing the sun, and drinking whatever there is to drink. Alcohol is a must. 

So after an interesting friday night at The Workmans, saturday came and it was time for Wayne's BBQ in his cottage down in Donnybrook. I met Wayne a month ago, i was supposed to move to his house but since i had to wait until end of June to do so and i could not wait, i ended up looking for another place and the rest is history. So i went over to Waynes, and the place was all settled for a gorgeous day at the beach, he putted a lot of effort in the whole BBQ set-up so it was (as locals say) WHOPPER!. In there i met Alain and Valentin, two french guys living in Dublin. Since we were the "foreigners" we bond instantly and start drinking white, then red, and then moved up to rum. We had some burgers, meatballs and porkchops as we get to know the locals (who as always were friendly) and by 11 pm the french guys and i were in the mood of some nightlife so we headed towards town in the pursuit of happiness.

For sunday Finn and Eva invited me over their new house-warm BBQ. For their new house i got them a platter and a wine opener. Nothing special really, except from the fact that they were Le Cruiset, so they were bleeding great. They're foodies and Eva seems to be quite a wino, so it all will be used (and thats all that matters). Since they are veggies, it was BYO meat. So not to repeat i went to Fallon & Byrne, a local store that offers rare good quality goods. Slightly over priced, but still a good option to shop once a month or so. As i had red meat the day before, my choice for sunday was whole french quails (messy yummy bastards!), Duck breast (which i did not ate! was so full and totally forgot it. such a waste) and toulouse sausages. I made some wakamole and once i got there, made some stuffed peppers with cheese, onions and egg.  Every single one of us was in some sort of hang over state (or sick) but that did not stopped us from trying Eva's "Lemonade": 1 part citron vodka, 1 part ginger syrup, loads of ice and cider. LOVELY drink. Dangerous thou. Finally, walk back home really tired. (Should stop drinking that much) and another good-weekend went by. 

Wayne's Cottage front door set-up


BBQ days

Im quite excited about the gigs coming. And while im waiting for the big fat festivals, i've decided to look up for smallers bands and singers and i fand Sorcha Richardson, a cute irish singer based in NYC who's coming to town next Saturday to play in The Workmans.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013


I've decided to write in english from now on. As many other aspects of my day to day living, my language has changed. And even though my thoughts are still in spanish, it is becoming pretty usual for me to find  myself talking in english to people that speak spanish. That being said, i'd like to follow this post by telling you guys about my last few weeks in Ireland. 

As i mentioned in my last post, i lived with Ellen during the first month or so here in Dublin. During that month, i had to do TONS of paperwork in order to get my visa/work permit and pps number (Personal Public Service). After that i set myself in the search of two very important things that any expat has to do asap after arrival. First of all, looking for a place to live. The second? start looking for a job. Well, one cold sunday of April i found myself with a HUGE hangover heading towards Dublin's city centre to a viewing. Since i had plenty of time i decided to have a proper, greasy breakfast, the kind thats you NEED after a wild night. So i ended up in Gallagher's Bistro. A lovely restaurant located in front of Trinity College at a lovely old building called the D'olier Chambers built in 1891. After having a couple eggs benedict, rashers, chunk fries aside and orange juice, I was ready to go to see that apartment. But as i was ordering the check a thought came to me "it wouldn't hurt to leave your cv here, would it?" and so i did. I asked for the chef. He came, and immediately start asking me if i had me knives, me uniform, me safety shoes. (luckily i had all of them) so i he said "ill wait you next monday at 10", thats how i landed that first job. The apartment didn't work. But i had a job already. 

That week started with me working 12 straight hours during the first couple of days. And with Ellen telling me that she had her place already booked for the next week so i should find a place soon. But working 12 hours and look for a place are not compatible so i wasn't really much into it, except for a few texts sent out at late hours. As the week went by, the Chef (Aidan) was getting quite stressful about things. I must confess i wasn't really into it, my mind was with the apartment thing. Still i wasn't bad, at all. He decided to fire another guy because he was absent for a few days without advice, and that day was particularly an awkward situation.  From that point it was all downhill. Starting from the time that i called him "Aidan" and he gave me a weird look and said "Aidan? who's Aidan? ME kitchen, im CHEF" (by then i was like WHAT THE FUCK?!) It's ok if you want me to call you "chef", but there are ways and ways. That wasn't a good one. By friday thing weren't getting any better and on top of that, i forgot my chef jacket. He made me come back to get it (20 euros taxi fare) when i came back he told me. Im not that happy with you, you have to show me why i have to hire you today, i want you to work faster. And so i did. By 7pm he told me "Are you able to come back tomorrow at 10?" -"Yes Chef" was my answer, but i was fed up with him already.
I headed out, and went to a lovely coffee down the quays called Dux&co. Beautiful place. I order for a table of cheeses and a chai late. Feeling worn out and miserable i fand myself wondering if i should leave a cv there. I really wanted to. I realise that i wasn't happy, it just didn't feel like i putting up with this guy. After that i went to see this place in Temple Bar, a 3 bedroom apartment to share with two irish guys, and it turned out to be really nice, with a big kitchen area (always important). 

As a goodbye-roomie thing Ellen and i travel to Wicklow to a wild food tasting. Then we spent the night at Ellen mom's soon to be an amazing B&B in Akrow's countryside with a breathtaking scenery sorrounding the place. Ellen mom's a gastronomer, focused on the impact that food has on culture and vice-versa. The day after that we travel a bit more to Ferns for Liam's naming ceremony. With so much traveling i had some time to update my journal. I spent the whole travel to Ferns writing. When we got there we walked to Megan's family farm (Megan was a good friend of Ellen, and the mother of gorgeous 8 years old toddler, Liam).  In there, i met Fintan who was a Chef working for a catering company. As i was telling him my story, he totally got my point and said something like "some guys are totally blind by fame and power"  and followed up with "we're always needing people so if you're interested send me your cv". We came back to Dublin and i called the guys from Temple Bar and told them i wanted the place, they told me if i can wait until monday, and so i did. By monday i had a place. And no job. 

Monday was the day i moved into the house on Essex Street East. The day i met Andrew and Oisin (my flatmates) and their friends Geoffrey, Omar and Thomas. They invited me to play golf with them and even though i've never played real size golf, it sounded fun enough to try. I sucked at it. I came up in last place +99 (ten above the last before me) but it was under 100's and they said that was good enough for a rookie. After we went to Phoenix park, sitted in the grass, seize the sun while we watched a Cricquet game and enjoy some fancy smoke. The first one i did in Ireland. I wasn't in the mood of start looking for a job right away, i needed to finish some paperwork first so i did those and then i took a small vacations and went to Ibiza to visit my friends German, Eduardo and Imanol. 

Since it wasn't the high season, my travel was more focused on the nature's part of the island, beaches and sunbathing, although we had some party and i got to know Pacha. It was indeed a crazy week, with not as much party as i would have expected but with loads of wine and sangria. I came back to Dublin with the mind focused on getting a job. So there was no time to lose. I sent my cv to Fintan and wait for the best. Meanwhile i kept hangin' out with my flatmate's gang (clique). I am really amazed and grateful towards them because they let me in instantly. And it made things so much easier for me and my adaptation process. It all reached a peak last friday. I was called to start working on N(umber)6 on the Royal College of Physicians. It is an old building that apart from being a College is also a renown (and posh) wedding venue. It also host many corporate events and those kind of things. It wasn't that busy, just 8o people but it was grand. After work i had to ran to the apartment since it was Omar goodbye party. 

Omar was the guy living in my room before i did. And he is an IT, vegetarian, with some serious skills for baking, quite a foodie i dare to say. At least, he's not one of those vegetarians that survive on pasta and pizza. He seems to be also, the kind soul of the group. That guy that holds the group together even thou he's not the most crazy one, nor the most outgoing. At least that's what i perceived from others people reaction to his departure (he's going to Canada). He also seems to be quite neat. And that makes him kinda like the guy that kept the house in order before i was here. So he gave me a few tips on how to deal with the guys whenever they get nasty. 

But honestly they hadn't been that bad. Oisin is (fill the blank) -he trains the managers of this coffee chain- so he's not around much, or he's with her girlfriend. He just keep most of his "filth" in his bedroom and cleans whenever he's free. The other day he had free and he cleaned the whole place by himself (something that neither me nor andrew had done so far). Andrew has been also as Omar, the other kind soul of the group. And he was the one taking me in and introducing me to all the guys and girls in the gang. He's also a tazmania devil when it comes to order. He's just leaving a mess everywhere he goes to the point it becomes funny just to watch. But to tell you the thruth, as he said to me once "he'll get things done" and whenever he sees you're doing any cleaning he's always offering a helping hand or start cleaning himself. That had made living with them quite easy actually. They don't complain much about me taking their food (i dont do it that often) and i dont mind them taking mine (but they don't do it as often either) so its kinda the perfect balance so far. At nights we let the inner nerds go out and spent time watching a film, telly, Game of Thrones or just playing videogames. They even join me watching Nacional's matches on the computer! 

Last sunday the whole gang got together to go to Forbidden Fruit festival. And i think that was like the gang saying "welcome Pablo". We got together with Becca (pretty much our neighbor) to brunch and then walk to Geoffrey's at Smithsfields. In there we met Geoff, Phil (Oisin brother, also used to lived in the apartment once) his girlfriend Eva, and his sister Aine. Later came Ferdi. We start warming up the engines with some booze (It's not a cliché, irish people do love their drinking and im trying to catch up) and Aine got some food, that actually seemed really good. (Geoff's Egg Muffins were a joy to behold, im sorry dude, im gonna copy that sooner or later) At 4-5 we were on our way to the Festival. We got there, took our yokes and enjoy the festival the best way possible... drinking loads of booze and dancing to good music. We met Liam and Thomas that were in the festival. Later came Ferdi's wife (i can't seem to remind her name). They all missed Omar, we took a picture for him. Becca asked me phone to add me to the groups Whatsapp group. I was in. (and happy) We get into the spinning swings and i couldn't help but feeling like Charlie (from the Perks of Being a Wallflower) when he said he's feeling "infinite". I was euphoric, and high as a kite. It was a really good moment though. I haven't felt that way in quite a while.  

-It shouldn't take that long to get over someone...

After that we saw Chic, and dance to 70's tunes with a smile on our faces. Honouring Omar but trying not to think about him leaving (even thou everyone couldn't do it and were well aware of that fact, specially Ferdi) and the we went dancing to the tunes of Daphni... WHOPPER! At 23 or so, the festival ended and i was having a really good foodie chat with Eva, who seems to be quite a good chef and as foodies i can tell we'll get along really well. Then the after party in the Button Factory, where Thomas (maybe the guy that i had seen the least) was being really nice to me and introducing me to all of his friends and other kind stuff. After that i talked a lot with Geoff - really cool guy- who had the Mr. Gatsby vibe going on (he was being too serious and uptight, sitting in an arm chair quietly drinking his beer) talking about drugs and music and all of a sudden (as it always happens in Ireland) the whole thing just ended. I didn't matter how excited i was, it was off. No more party. Such a shame. And i was alone, the battery gone. But since i was close to home it did not matter. Went home, saw Macker (Andrew) wasted in the couch. Went for a few slices of pizza from DiFontaine just around the corner to share with him cause he seem to be needing some food and then went to bed. 

All in all i think thats a good review of the last month, a really good (and happy) one as you might have read (if you made it all the way through here)... Hope you liked it. 


Liam about to face the Piñata

Ibiza from the sky

Dessert time at RCPI


Journaling on the road

The farm in Ferns

RCPI hall
Ir order: Some guy guy glasses, Ferdi, Becca and Aine in front, Cool beard guy?, Andrew, Geoffrey on the back with arm wide open, Phin and me on the left shouting "Goodbye Omar!" to upload into whatsapp group  and facebook a few minutes later.

Thursday, 9 May 2013

Picking Clovers

Hace un tiempo que no dedico mi tiempo a una entrada para el blog. Pero bueno, mas vale tarde que nunca no? Mis primeros días los pasé en Donnybrook, un barrio tranquilo al sur de Dublin  (a unos 10 minutos del centro en bus) compartiendo apartamento con Ellen, una irlandesa profesional en sus 30's. Si tuviera que describirla diría que es una foodie, aficionada del vino y los viajes. Espontánea. Al poco tiempo de haber llegado a su casa, ya  convivíamos bastante bien, lo cual fue bastante bueno para mi adaptación a la vida en un país nuevo. El apartamento era re lindo. La estética de la arquitectura irlandesa tiene algo que conquista, a pesar de su constante repetición.  Las ventanas grandes, los muros de piedra, las paredes de ladrillo, las puertas de colores, la primavera floreciendo, la niebla que reniega de irse. La primer semana fue de regocijarme con las nuevas costumbres. Beber vino para el almuerzo, la cena y el postre. Probar la comida que había que probar. Ir a los restaurants que encontraba interesantes. Pedir mi primer delivery. Logre que Ellen viera Game of Thrones y esa se convirtió en nuestra rutina, re-encontrarnos a las 7-8 de la noche, decidir que íbamos a cenar, con qué vino acompañaríamos la cena y sentarnos a ver 3 episodios de GOT. Aunque aveces cambiábamos para ver una película, How i met your mother, o si era domingo la seguidilla de Brits got more talent y the voice uk (que tiene como jurados a Jessie J,, Tom Jones y un tal Danny, famoso de Irlanda por su banda The Script). Un par de veces fui invitado a tomar un cafe irlandés al piso de abajo, donde vivían los abuelos de Ellen. En otra ocasión me invitaron a comer cordero, el cual estaba -por cierto- muy rico. Y así me pase esos días en el apartamento de la calle Marlborough.

Pero obviamente no fue lo único que hice durante mis primeras semanas. Apenas llegue encontré la tienda que iba a ser mi perdición: Donnybrook fair. Un paraíso-deli donde encontrar vegetales y frutas de la mejor calidad, en su mayoría orgánica. Cosas importadas, carnes de primera y buenos vinos. El precio estaba quizás, por encima de la media del resto. Algo así como Tienda Inglesa, pero tenía el encanto de no ser un supermercado. Pese a saber que existía un Tesco (un Macromercado) unas cuadras mas abajo, la vista ya estaba conquistada, era imposible pasar por ahí e ignorarlo.

La noche en Dublin es linda, cosmopolita. Aunque aveces puede ser brasileña casi en exclusividad. Si bien estaba obligado a probar la Guiness, no fue mas que eso, una sola pinta desde que llegue. La encontré muy pesada como para elegirla como bebida de la noche, quizás para alguna cena, pero igual... muy pesada para mi gusto. Así que me concentre en el vino, o Jack Daniels ocasionalmente. Después de conocer el famoso Temple Bar, encontré mis dos lugares preferidos (en lo que levo de tiempo acá) que son Mezz bar y The Workmans. Mezz es una especie de BJ en sus viejos tiempos. Con un menú de música en vivo interesante y divertido (salvo en sus noches de metal) con aspecto de antro de techos bajos, paredes oscuras, billetes de todos puestos en la barra, y algún que otro sutien colgado. Parece ser el punto de encuentros de Españoles y algún que otro argentino. The Workmans es "El Living" de acá. Salvo que acá es una casona vieja. 2 pisos divididos en algo así como 6 - 7 ambientes bastante grandes (como del tamaño del Living en montevideo) y una terraza (techada) que es la trampa ideal para poder fumar dentro del local sin sufrir las inclemencias del clima (que acá suele ser bastante inclemente). La música es bastante divertida. Cuando esta tranquilo pasan Strokes, Kooks, Vampire Weekend o Blur. Cuando esta mas movida, hay momento para éxitos de los 80's y los 90's. Aveces un poco de electrónica. La combinación perfecta. Podría mencionar el hecho que ya me echaron de The Workmans porque mi estado de ebriedad había llegado a estados vomitivos. En mi defensa, había tomado junto con Ellen ya 4 botellas de vino, e íbamos por la 5ta. El reloj marcaba la 1 am. No sé si fue en mi defensa al final. Pero era divertido mencionarlo.

Sobre mis clases de inglés (la excusa para conseguir el permiso de trabajo por un año) poco tengo que decir. Aunque en el primer turno tengo un profesor cuya clase consiste (casi siempre) en leer cuentos cortos de Wilde, o Arthur Conan Doyle. O ver cortos de Hitchcock. Aveces en otra clase tengo que mirar Downtown Abby o Fawly Towers. Ambas recomendables, sobretodo la última (si es que les gusta Monthy Python)

Tengo tanto más que contar que decidí dividirlo en unos cuatro entradas. Así que me guardo un poco para más adelante. 

Saturday, 9 February 2013

In the Summertime

Estoy sentado contra la ventana que da al mar, con la mirada perdida en el agua mientras el bus avanza lentamente por la ruta con destino a Punta del Este. Los últimos días han sido -y me quedo corto- de locos. El último mes lo ha sido, el 2012 lo fue.  Pero lo cierto es que de mi 2012 ya escribí bastante (por suerte). Durante mi viaje de vuelta mi mente intenta una y otra vez apagarse, pero es algo que intento una y otra vez en vano. La mirada que intenta perderse con el mar, se concentra en mi antebrazo, ahora lleno de quemaduras y marcas típicas de una cocina, entonces a pesar de la locura que llevo a cuestas, sonrío porque me doy cuenta de que encontré lo que me gusta hacer y por primera vez en mucho tiempo puedo responder esa pregunta que antes tanto me costaba contestarme. 

- Qué sos?
- Soy cocinero. 

En ese preciso momento, con la mirada enfocada en mi antebrazo, con el mar de fondo y el cielo que aun conserva los colores del atardecer, pese a que el sol ya esta ausente, en ese momento, pienso "puta madre, soy cocinero"

El 2012 termino conmigo trabajando en un Restaurant donde entre como un "che pibe" -basicamente- pese a que la Chef (y dueña) me había dicho otra cosa -las mujeres siempre lo hacen-  por suerte, después de perderme la primera navidad en 26 años por trabajar la noche del 24, conseguí un trabajo bastante mejor, donde me pagaban un sueldo bastante bien (por encima de la media y quizás de lo que yo podía pretender). El nuevo restaurant estaba a años luz en lo que refiere a las condiciones laborales y ya al comenzar pude sentarme en una misma mesa con el dueño y con el Chef (español e italiano respectivamente) y hablar con ellos como iguales. Mi tarea ahora ya no era la de un che pibe (ya había uno) sino que era un cocinero, el único en el cuarto frio, encargado de carpaccios, ensaladas y bruschettas. Quizas nada tenga mucha dificultad y mi tarea sea por demás esta decirlo, sencilla y la unica dificultad podría encontrarse en la decoración de los platos pero es algo que me gusta así que no me quejo. Mi primer trabajo en una cocina de verdad. No todo fue color de rosas en lo laboral, muchas veces me senti alienado, no tener dias libres puede llevar a la persona mas tranquila al borde de un colapso. Salir y trabajar 10 horas y no tener un día para reponer todo ese sueño llega a ser agotador, y convivir con personas que están en el mismo grado de stress se vuelve una bomba de tiempo. Lo aprendí rápido en el primer restaurant (el que dejé), cuando un veterano, nuevo él, se decidió por apuntarme con un cuchillo mientras me recriminaba que yo le hablaba mal. 

"mercenarios, vas a tener que acostumbrarte, las cocinas están llenas de locos como este"  me dijo uno de los cocineros importantes que había decidido adoptarme como su aprendiz, cuando mis tareas de "che pibe" me daban un descanso. Eso, sumado a otro compañero, mormón el, con esa tendencia a ser víctima en todas las situaciones y actuar como si el mundo le debiera algo (ademas de ser un smartass que ni siquiera sabe lo que dice) son las únicas personas con las que no me ha gustado trabajar. Creo que ademas me molesta el hecho de que no sean cocineros y cocinen de mala gana, solo para hacer un trabajo. No lo quiero decir de mala manera, pero la gastronomia merece gente que le guste cocinar. Mozos a quienes les guste servir y no gente que solo pretende "hacer unos mangos de ella" cosas sobre la cual escribir en otra ocasión...

Pero no solo de trabajo tengo que contar. El 2013 será el año en el que me vaya a vivir por primera vez a otro país. Un boleto a Dublin en mi mesa de luz es testigo de que por fin estoy a punto de alcanzar algo que anhelo desde hace mucho tiempo, pero que siempre postergue por una u otra razón (carrera... mujeres). Cuando mi ex no era mi ex, casi un año atras me dijo "mi palabra de este año va a ser Wanderlust" no se si le entendí tanto como ahora, mi palabra de este año es "wanderlust", el deseo ferviente de recorrer, conocer, vagar por calles desconocidas es hoy mas fuerte en mi que nunca y cada día se hace mas difícil esperar. Comencé el 2013 diciendo que iba a escribir todos los dias aunque sea una oración (facebook no cuenta) y debo admitir que solo llegue al 20 de enero, pero al menos empiezo a tener la costumbre de escribir mas a menudo, es dificil concentrarse en esas cosas cuando uno trabaja 10 horas por dia, pierde 2 horas en viajes y tiene que ver amigos y estar con la familia y estar solo al mismo tiempo. 

Todo el contexto me fue llevando a una vida desequilibrada, descontrolada, mal dormida, alcoholizada, drogada. Las mujeres hacen que uno se pierda, y la falta de ellas tambien. Nunca sirve nada. Hasta que todo termino tragicamente conmigo a las 7am del 5 de febrero, en la calle 20 de la Peninsula, entregando mi registro de conducir mientras le firmaba un papel que decía que me había sometido a un control de espirometría y el resultado era 1.09 -no era mucho, pero suficiente para que me quitaran el registro y me cobraran 450 dólares- 

Por eso es que viajo en bus. Por suerte tengo una amiga, devenida en alguien que transmite una paz que inspira, que me hizo tranquilizar un poco y ahora solo salgo los fines de semana, razón por la cual estoy un poco mas equilibrado, sobrio y no tan drogado, de hecho me deshice de lo poco que tenía. Pero hay dias que te ponen locos, los mozos que vienen distraídos y te comandan platos que luego no salen, los compañeros que repiten el mismo error tonto varias veces seguidas y las discusiones ajenas que empiezan a embarullar el ambiente hace que uno vaya corriendo con el jefe y le pida desesperadamente un vaso de jack daniels y una lima y me suba al techo del parador, con un vaso de whisky con hielo y lima, mirando la playa, dejando los músculos salir de esa tension, limpiando la mente de tanto ruido, dejando que el whisky se lleve consigo toda mala vibra que fluya por mi cuerpo. Quizas ese haya sido el costo de volverme cocinero, ahora soy sin lugar a dudas, mucho mas regular con el alcohol de lo que alguna vez fui. 

- La tesis?

- Bien gracias. El martes 19 tengo reunion con mi tutor, hasta marzo tengo tiempo.
- Ahh ok. Ponete las pilas.

Ps. hoy ayude a mi hermana a hacer un DIY para que ponga sus caravanas y gracias a Pinterest salió algo lindo.