Merigoesaround

"There are some situations one simply cannot be neutral about, because when you are neutral you are an accomplice. Objectivity doesn't mean treating all sides equally. It means giving each side a hearing" Christiane Amanpour , my journalist diva

Easy. If you work or live anywhere close to a tourist landmark you'll behave Parisian in a short couple of weeks. My work is strategically close to the Tour d'Eiffel, the Arc de Triomphe, Trocadero and Les Champs Elysees. This fantastic location is tourist material par excellence. So, every morning, afternoon, early evening, evening...always, dozens of tourists clog metro escalators, doors, crowd metro wagons, wander lost holding foldable maps. If you happen to be late, forget it. It appears Asian tourist do not know how to stand on the right side of the mechanical stairs. You will quickly start wishing Paris becomes an ugly city inhabited by you and your office colleagues. Despite the tourist transit there is one moment I specially enjoy: watching the astonished happy tourist faces when they first see the Christmas lighting (still on) of the Champs and the magnificent Arc de Triomph bringing your memories to Napoleonic times. There I am not Parisian, I am just another tourist ...

"Do something manual, use your hands". She told me. She had rolled cigarettes for 28 years in a cooperativa close to Havana. I looked at her hands, expecting to see deformed, arthritic hands but Yomaris had white porcelain soft fingers, nobody could have said she rolled cigar after cigar for more than 2 decades. Targets were harsh, she said. 80 to 120 cigars per day. She had her own health tips to fight deformation, arthritis or psychological unbalance, common among rollers, Yomaris said. She drank every morning a mix of water, lemon and spices that was miraculously good for blood circulation. "Do something manual", she told me again. "Humans we need to use our hands to produce something, it is fulfilling". I thought about it and decided that my hands this year should do a hobby other than typing blogs or writing emails to friends across the pond. Cooking, painting, flute playing, pottery, gardening, sewing, massage learning?!...I am not sure yet but I nee...

Rosa sat, so Martin could walk. Martin walked, so Obama could run. Obama is running, so our children can fly . -Ed Welch, quoting a text message from a friend, on NPR's All Things Considered

Woke up, left the house and almost stepped on a cat who was asking me to caress him/her. The cat lives in the court of the building where I live. The house of love. The house of love is all red. The owner must have spent a lot of time in Nepal or India, the house being decorated with extraordinary easternzenish taste. Budha included, this new housing situation is very interesting. My roomies, I obviously do not live by myself in a 100 sqm apartment in Saint Germain des Pres, the development cooperation Mecca , are Rob and Natasha. A British guy wasting his life in a hedge fund when he could actually be a painter and Natasha, a sweet Russian lady in the midst of her divorce who does not paint very well, but who cooks masterfully. Cohabitation is always a good lesson of patience and understanding. I have lived with these people for 2 weeks and I just found out that they do not know my name. The house of love does not need names, just respect and cordiality (we missed a little bit of this...

This time I did not choose the right fancy dress. "My first weekend in Paris and I have a theme party", I thought. How cool. This is like Ameeerica. The theme was "Heroes and Villains". I thought Gandhi was hero enough to make the cut and be original at the same time, all I needed was a sheet and an Indian scarf. I arrived at the party dressed as myself with Gandhi in a paper bag. I observed the dance floor, Superman was there, a couple of cowboys, some evil-looking people. It was time for Gandhi to hit the dance floor. I fixed my sheet and headband and draw a little bindi in between my eyebrows, just to make it clear that I was disguised as a hero from the far east. I felt confident. Gandhi Martinez. What a great hero. I even had a socially responsible and development cooperation-friendly fancy dress. Down with leathery Batmans and expensive Superman outfits. Go homemade fancy dresses. I saw most of the girls were dressed as Angels. Oh how nice, I thought, French g...

My first night in Paris and I am eating McDonalds. This could seem a bad Parisian kick off…but life here couldn’t have started better: The snow and grayness overcasting Paris for the last days moved away opening the sky to a splendid sun that melts the stalactites pending from the roofs. I experienced weather and human generosity today: somebody paid for my metro ticket because the vending machine did not accept my credit card. Such a wonderful start put me in a talkative, happy mood. I felt like talking to strangers, I talked soo much to a random guy in the subway that he asked me for my number. Ego boost. The day meetings woke up the operational part of my brain, on holidays for the last weeks. Suddenly, I felt I really graduated from graduate school, as my friend Ursula said when she started working some months ago…suddenly the word weekend had a totally different meaning. Sitting in the office I realized I am a grown up: my office has finally a large window with a decent view of a ...

Cuba is contradiction. Cuba is happiness, sadness, noise, peace, love, passion, suicidal vibes, promiscuity, religion, santeria, tobacco, boring sun deprived all-inclusive colorful wristband tourists, history and histories, a frozen point in time with tropical weather. All that and more. *Photos...Hugo's courtesy

This will be a year to ponder, settle down for a couple of years and work and enjoy life equally hard. I wish that those without illusions, find them, those in poverty or pain fight it, those in trouble, solve it and those in love, enjoy it.