I’ve just
registered my book in the intellectual property registry. “El Color de Mallorca”.
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
Monday, 2 March 2015
LET'S GO TO THE VILLAGE
A friend of mine has asked me to accompany him to a local celebration in a village
nearby. About a year and a half ago he was working for a language school in that place.
He was delighted with the job, but it was a bit unstable. Thus, as soon as he found a full-time one, he resigned at the school.
Since then, my friend has never gone back to the village. This is just the
result of modern life: we are always pressed for the time. But
winter sales produced a miracle: some former pupils came to Palma for a shopping
spree. And thus, a couple of weeks ago he met a former student who, visibly
worried, asked him about his health.
Some days afterwards, he coincided with another former student. He also
asked him how his “illness” was going on. This time however, my friend received
further explanations. Apparently, as he resigned at the school, the headmaster
told all his students that the teacher had left his job due to a mental disease
which forced him to go back homeland to receive maternal care.
World history is full of lies and unsubstantiated rumors. Famous are more
exposed to slander, but the humblest may eventually be its victims too. Who
does not remember the famous “crime of Cuenca”. At that time, Gregorio Valero and León
Sánchez were wrongly accused (and jailed) for the murder of a shepherd. The
truth would finally come to light in early 1926, when the “victim” (which was
alive and “kicking”) sent a letter to the priest, requesting a certificate of baptism to get married.
My friend has decided to visit the next local celebration dressed in his
best clothes and accompanied by his wittiest friends.
http://www.fernandezbaladron.com/
Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón
Usted puede utilizar este enlace en su página, reenviar este texto o distribuir el documento completo de forma GRATUITA y SIN MODIFICARLO. No puede modificar, extraer o copiar este texto sin la autorización de su autor.
Copyright Luisa
Fernández Baladrón
THE BEST COMPANY
Last Wednesday a little pupil of mine
asked me if I had children. “Not even a boyfriend? Nor a puppy? Do you live
completely alone? Don’t you feel rather lonely?”
But at home, in our own four walls, with a cup that smells of raspberry, our feet in slippers, a piece of paper and a box of colors on the table; on my chair, listening to my favourite music and reading my books, there is no solitude at all, but a mere sense of belonging.
In fact, I had neved felt more accompanied
than in the four walls of this flat. Living with the freedom of doing, writing,
reading, painting and talking to everyone via Skype or phone. Without the
restriction of having to offer any explanation about every single “strange”
detail. Such as having a cup of tea at any time or having an Spanish omelette
for breakfast. Leaving my bedroom door open while I sleep; wacking up at daybreak
without the bleep of an alarm clock. Painting doodles. Wrapp in a blanket when
I get out of bed. Enjoying a warm shower. Studying or writing late. Welcome
some friends at home; reading a book together and talking until late. Tie the
bike at the front door. Laughing like a teenager. Talking with someone on the phone
without having to pay attention to other people that may find it inconvenient.
It is amazing the warmth of that company made of pencils, books, computer, tea
and heating.
Loneliness is meeting people you have
nothing in common with. It is sitting in the company of those who consider each
of our decisions a symptom of insanity. It is meeting with that friend of ours
who advises us to go to a psychiatrist because we have changed our job once
again. He, who has had more than thirty different jobs during his labour life.
He, who was once married, then divorced his first partner and then got married
again. He, who does not visit the children of his first marriage and insist on
adopting children with his second wife.
Solitude is been a victim of
discrimination on grounds of race, origin or social position. It is that silly
joke about people who were born in a particular place. It is that boyfriend who
once tells you that, actually, he is still in love with a teenager whom he
never dared to declare to thirty years ago. It is that colleague who casts
doubt on our ability at work; it is that boss who takes advantage of their
position to revenge against his miserable childhood. It is that dog which decides
to urinate right on your shoe.
But at home, in our own four walls, with a cup that smells of raspberry, our feet in slippers, a piece of paper and a box of colors on the table; on my chair, listening to my favourite music and reading my books, there is no solitude at all, but a mere sense of belonging.
I add my photo for the “throw back
Thursday”. Palma, July 2006
http://www.fernandezbaladron.com/
Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón
Usted puede utilizar este enlace en su página, reenviar este texto o distribuir el documento completo de forma GRATUITA y SIN MODIFICARLO. No puede modificar, extraer o copiar este texto sin la autorización de su autor.
Friday, 16 January 2015
NICE COLLEAGUES AND COMRADES
Yesterday was a day of challenges. Probably the greatest one was to witness
some colleagues of the language school bullying another workmate. The main
aggressor (a woman in her late fifties, with gray hair and a clumsy body) approached
her victim with crooked head, telling her again and again:
-
Hello!
Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!... Hello! Bye-bye!...
The support group, consisting of two adult women, said out loud: “Speak more, nice ladyyyyyyyy...”
I found quite interesting to see such an adolescent behavior in three
middle aged women. I wonder if regular contact with teenagers has influenced
their attitude. Maybe the nice ladies thought that a teen performance would
make them look younger, as if they had had a natural face lift. Unfortunately,
if you want to stave off wrinkles from an old face you´ll have to be willing to
pay an expensive hyaluronic acid treatment. Then to the disgrace of feminine
vanity, an adolescent conduct does neither erase wrinkles nor give hair volume
and shine. And the lack of mental maturity doesn’t clean cholesterol and fatty
acids of the walls of arteries either.
I called up a Colombian friend who has an extremely good sense of pace...
and of humor, and we invited the unaccepted colleague to come with us to have a
drink. There was a football match on the TV and cafes and bars were crowded. We
laughed and talked about everything and about nothing in particular. And, of
course, we did not mention the lovely workmates. As we were going back home, my
friend gave me back an easel and a canvas with a cabbage picture that I had
left at her home on my last tour to Hamburg. It’s great to have friends who
make us forget the presence of lonely, frustrated people.
As a classic writer said: “Long live the gossip, who make us more and more famous.”
Copyright Luisa
Fernández Baladrón
Monday, 12 January 2015
BOUNTIES OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE
On Thursday I had a real shock. In the adult class, my laptop-screen got
black. I could log in as usual but immediately after there was absolutely
nothing on the screen. Only the cursor hovering over it. Oh no! A computer
failure in hard January! I switched it off and prayed to all the saints and in
all languages.
A part of me believed in Divine Providence. The other bought a pack of two
bars of chocolate in the supermarket and scoff it all down while I rode my
bicycle towards the technician’s. Keep calm: everything will go well. In the
meantime, my teeth were grinding and clenching the sweet flavour of cocoa
butter. I even got off the bike and pushed it for a while to open a can of Coke.
Addicts know how great that choco-cola mix can happen to be.
Relax – I told to myself - there must be a solution. My laptop was on my back
and I had to get the rucksack off once and again, each time I wanted to eat a
couple of chocolate ounces. I stopped and leant the bike against a traffic
signal each time. Finally, I took the rest of the chocolate bar and kept it in
my hand to continue eating without any interruption. But, as I had not got
hands enough, I put the can of Coke into one of my pockets. Soon, the pocket
was awashed with Coke.
And this is how I went into the computer shop: with the serenity that gives
believing in God’s care... and with my bike aside, my laptop on my back, a bar
of chocolate in my hand, my whole mouth full of chocolate, my overcoat spotted
with Coke and the face expression of a sugarholic.
- My compggutermm doesn’t wogggrkmm – I said to the technician, still with
full mouth.
Fortunately, the technician had a magic wand. It took him about twenty
minutes to repair it. What is even better than that: the computer was still
under warranty and the update was covered.
In the afternoon, I had to put my laptop on my back again: I had to go to work
and needed those pictures and recordings. It was a great lesson for motivated
girls about the most beloved knight of all: Mr. Money.
And, while going back home, humming the song that had introduced the lesson,
something reminded me of chocolate. Divine Providence... and so does
indigestion.
Copyright Luisa
Fernández Baladrón
Wednesday, 31 December 2014
THE ROLE OF CHEMISTRY
You were right Antonio Ontiveros! A few days ago, apropos of my letter to
Santa, you told me:
“We don’t have to reject advantages
but, when something hurts, you can just think of getting better.”
On Boxing Day an ear infection reminded me what pain is and what medicines
are useful for. As soon as the pharmaceutical gave me the medicine I rushed
home to gobble them down with the anxiety of an addict. I fell asleep, wrapped
in a hundred thousand blankets and made up sleep lost during the last night.
And when I woke up the
pain was gone. I would have kissed the feet of him who invented painkillers and
even the filthy overall of the first person who ground the prescription
ingredients in a mortar.
I wish to thank all
those who spend their hours searching for a remedy against pain. The greed of
big pharmaceutical companies often undermines their work. Yet business and
vocation are different things, even nowadays.
Copyright Luisa Fernández Baladrón
Sunday, 21 December 2014
THE TOUGH CYCLIST'S BAND
A difficult week comes to an end.
Last Saturday I went to “Sa Vileta” on
bike for private tutoring and the cold air rushed into my lungs. So on Monday I
already had a cold. I hadn’t caught one for the last TWENTY years. I had to muddle
the whole week, teaching with a stuffy nose.
Late on Monday evening I had to give a
private lesson to a fifteen-year-old girl. We were reading a book when the young and foreign stepfather burst into the room, thrusting “niceness” and
requiring an explanation, because the teenager had not passed her English exam.
Actually, the teenager’s mother moved her into a new school this year and the
new institution has a level of English which is too high for her. Now the
“baby” urgently needs more than three hundred hours of English lessons to put
up with the rest of the class. Instead, the family has decided to “help” her
with one private lesson per week. More than a month ago, I reported this to the
mother, who promised to study the issue. And, when it seemed that the
subject was already forgotten, the glossy twenty-seven-year-old second husband turned up.
An acquaintance of mine has the habit of
humming a “pasodoble” whenever someone tries to provoke him. The higher the
grievance, the stronger he hums. I was so amused reminding that habit of my
friend, that my though unwittingly knocked at the door of “The Tough Cyclist’s
Band”. The band is made up of a trumpet, a violinist and a former Santa’s
reindeer who retired due to certain intestinal problems which caused him a
terrible aerophagia. Now Pudolf, the farty reindeer, enjoys his musical
retirement while the fans of the orchestra are absolutely delighted with his
hight sense of rhythm. However, Pudolf does not perform popular “pasodobles”,
but the most exquisite Vienna Waltzes. For this historical broadcast
opportunity, the master of ceremonies chose “The Blue Danube”.
Blaue Donau (Johann Strauss)
Orchestra conductor: Xosé Troitiño (The
tough cyclist).
(The conductor approaches the podium and
takes the lead).
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
Quickly....
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
PA – RA – RA – RA – RA
PU-PU PU-PU
PA – RA- RA – RA -
RAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PA – PA - PAAAAAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PA - PA - PAAAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PA - PA - PAAAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PAAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PA PAAAAA
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU
FART – FART – FART –
FART – FART – FART – FART – FART – FART – FART – FART –
FART – FART - FART –
FART – FART – FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAART– FART – FART – FART - FAAAAAAAAAAART
PU-PU-PU-PU-PU-PU-PUUUUU
A hug from Palma and a new photograph for
the “throw back Thursday”.
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