visit from Spain (lost in translation)

You brought the sun my friends. I was looking forward your visit like a fool. Counting the days, the hours and the minutes, and finally the day arrived... but somebody missed that plane. Ramon was lost in translation. He could not fly. He lost his identity, and we lost the hope for a moment.
The adventure began before we thought, the first day we just wanted to save Ramon, lost in Sweden, alone in Göteborg, and after to spend a whole morning in the tourism office, we succeed, and we found a bus for him.

We were waiting for you all day long Ramon, waiting in Tivoli, in Frederiksberg park playing the frisbee, in Radhusplasen and Irene's place. Eating ice cream, chocolate with chili, cookies... the only way to bear your absence!

At 6 o'clock in the morning the Säflebussen brought us our lost one, and we were together again! let's continue with the adventure, let's begin the Kobenhavn experience (after the Göteborg experience)

[Heu portat el sol! m'estava tornant boja esperant-vos, comptava els dies, les hores i els minuts, i finalment el dia va arribar... però algú va perdre l'avió. El Ramon va quedar perdut en el traspàs. Va perdre la identitat i el vol, i nosaltres vam pedre l'esperança per un moment.

L'aventura va començar abans del que ens pensavem, a l'aeroport, tot per un puto DNI, i nosaltres et voliem salvar, perdut a Göteborg, sol a Suècia.

Finalment, després de tot un matí a l'oficina de turisme, vam trobar un bus per tu i vas poder vindre.

I et vam esperar tot el dia. Vam esperar-te al Tivoli, al Frederiksberg park jugant al frisbee, a la Radhusplasen i al pis de la Irene.

Menjant gelat, xocolata amb chili i galetes. La única manera de suportar la teva absència!

A les 6 del matí el Säflebussen ens va portar al perdut pel món, i vam tornar a estar junts, i vam continuar amb l'aventura, la Kobenhavn experience.]

feverish delirium (delirios febriles)

Finally, I've decided not to stay at home waiting for the good moments, or good feelings or good vibrations again. In one hand I should do it, because is not good idea to go outside with fever, but in the other hand I wasn't sure if the good vibrations could pass through the walls of my flat, and through my own stupidity.

So I went out wearing like in the poles, and I discovered that it wasn't that cold and the sun was trying to shine in a shy way. It's a good point to begin, but not enough to give me an smile. The day was still too grey for me, so me and my sickness went to this place where is possible to forget, or to learn, to empty or to full your mind... Christiania.
Arriving in Christiashavn metro station I went out and I found plaça Catalunya. Today is Sant Jordi and there's a book fair! somebody gave me a red rose and this book I was looking for during years was there... A catalan book, Enric Casasses.
Seems impossible, surrealistic. I looked around me, where am I? In Denmark? in Barcelona? in another dimension? maybe is the fever that clouds out my mind... I looked around me and I only could se Joao behind me, with a big bag and a big smile. And Antonio "americano terrorista" was there too.
I smiled back, and I said hello to Antonio but he could not hear me. Maybe he was in the other side of the mirror.

What do you have in your bag Joao? the answer was: all my dirty clothes. I'm trying to clean them (where? in the Christianshavn channel?)

I recited some catalan poetries to Joao while we where having a cup of coffee and I went to his flat. This place reminds me a film of Luis Buñuel, where the people can not scape from a room, and they don't know why. This was the situation in Joao's flat. The time runing between the flamenco that sounds from a guitar without strings, brasilian coffee, paprika around the door, italians writing guides of Spain from a lighthouse and the book of the fools. My body shaking because of the fever with the smoke of 5 hundred cigarrets around me... and when finally I came back home, all traffic lights were on green; a man from Greenland, looking like an ancient inuit from a remote ice paradise, said to me "have a nice day"; I took a photo of him and then, suddenly, the sun began to shine. I could sit in the front of metro, I had to wait only one second for the bus, I could choose a sit because it was empty and when I arrived home, Antonio called me to say: Buen dia terrorista! and my flatmate finally cleaned the kitchen, and all is in colours again.

I was too busy with my thoughs and I forgot about everything good that I have here, I forgot about the project meeting today, and I forgot to tell that I also love you all. And I will put names, I don't want more missunderstoods with my generic writing: I love you all Irene, Morgane, Jörg, João, Danilo, Danielo, Antonio terrorista... Thank you to worry for me, thank you Tibo for your funky dancing and for defend me even I didn't kick this fucking dog, thank you Kobenhavn for give me back the smile with this surrealistic trip. Maybe it was only a feverish delirium, but it opened my mind more than a revelation.

Happy Sant Jordi (Saint George's day/Sankt Jørgens Dag) to everybody.

[Finalment, he decidit no estar-me a casa esperant els bons moments, bon rotllo, bones vibracions un altre cop. Per una part no hauria de sortir, perquè no es bona idea sortir amb febre, però per l'altra no estava segura si les bones vibracions poden transpassar les pareds de la meva habitació i transpassar la meva pròpia estupidesa fins arribar a mi.

O sigui que he sortit vestint com si anés als pols, i he descovert que no feia tant fred i el sol semblava que volia brillar tímidament. És un bon començament però no és suficient per fer-me somriure. El dia era encara massa gris per mi o sigui que jo i els meus virus hem anat a aquell lloc on és possible oblidar, aprendre, buidar i omplir la ment... Christiania.

Arribo a Christianshavn metro station i surto a plaça Catalunya. Avui és Sant Jordi i hi ha fira del llibre. Algú em regala una rosa i trobo un llibre que feia segles que buscava. Un llibre de l'Enric Casasses.

Totalment surrealista. On sóc? A Dinamarca? A Barcelona? En una altra dimensió? potser la febre a ennubolat la meva ment. Miro al meu voltant i em trobo al Joao amb una gran motxilla i un gran somriure i a l'Antonio terrorista.

Torno el somriure al Joao i dic hola a l'Antonio, pero no em sent. Potser està a l'altre cantó del mirall.

Què portes a la bossa Joao?

Tota la meva roba bruta, intento rentar-la

(on? als canals de Christianshavn?)

Li recito algunes poesies de l'Enric Casasses mentre fem una tassa de cafè. El seu pis em recorda una pel·lícula de Luis Buñuel on la gent no pot escapar d'una habitació, i ningú no sap perquè, alguna força els obliga a estar allà.

Aquesta és la situació al pis del Joao, el temps vola entre els acords d'una guitarra sense cordes, cafè brasileny, torrades amb patè danès, italians que escriuen guies d'Espanya des d'un far, i el llibre dels bojos.

Tremolo per la febre rodejada d'anells de fum... Quan finalment torno a casa, tots els semàfors estan verds; un groenlandès que semblava un esquimal d'un paradís llunyà i d'edat intemporal, m'ha desitjat bon dia, li he fet una foto, i de sobte el sol a començat a brillar.

M'he assegut al davant del metro, he esperat l'autobús només un segon, he pogut triar el seient perquè el bus anava buit i un cop a casa, l'Antonio m'ha trucat per dir-me: Bon dia terrorista! i el meu company per fi ha netejat la cuina, i tot és de colors un altre cop.

Estava massa ocupada amb els meus pensaments i he oblidat tot el bo que tinc aquí. He oblidat també que haviem quedat per estudiar, i m'he oblidat de dir-vos també que us estimo a tots. I posaré noms perquè no vull més malentesos pels meus escrits massa generals al blog:

Us estimo: Morgane, Irene, Jörg, João, Danielo, Antonio terrorista... Gràcies per preucupar-vos per mi, gràcies Tibo pel teu funky i per defendre'm tot i que no vaig tocar aquell puto gos, gràcies Copenhagen per tornar-me el somriure amb aquest viatge surrealista. Potser ha estat només un deliri febril, però ha obert la meva ment més que una revelació.]

Feliç Sant Jordi a tots.

"ni tampoc sé si tot és o

de vida i mort, de Dins i Fora,

de vós i jo, de segle i hora,

de terra i foc i aigua i aire,

de poc o molt, bastant, no gaire,

algú, ningú... o qualsevol"

Enric Casasses

Homesick

I remember last summer in this island... I remember the sun under our skins, I remember your sweet eyes looking at me every morning. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

I though I was strong but I'm not. I need to go home, I need to hug everybody there.

I just want to sleep in my own bed, and hear my daddy saying everyday: what can I do for lunch?

Everything freaks me out here today. My flatmate freaks me out.

Today, the iglú that Vincent built seems more comfortable than my flat.

Alone and sick in my room, I stay all day long closed in this 4 white walls but my mind is far away... in Spain.

There's some things that make me feel disappointed. I feel disappointed of myself also, because I'll never learn, I'll always make the same mistakes, I will never know how to manage this situations and I will never understand that I have to go on, good moments will come back some day... but I'll wait for them here in my room, alone and sick.

Why my period always come when I'm hangovered? Morgane has the answer: because I'm always hangovered.

I'm tired to go out almost everyday until we lose control. I'm tired of insane parties everywhere. I'm bored of myself, arriving at 8 o'clock in the morning everytime I say I don't go out. Every funkin' saturday.

I'm fucking bad mood this week. The only thing that made me smile was the funky Tibo dancing in Ideal bar. He is the funky guy. And Gonzalo with his issues with the essay and the peeing cat.

I just can remember the last time I was in Spain. Now it seems a dream far in the past.

I miss you and I love you all.

Thank you for coming girls, you will save my life.

Oh dear! thank you for coming also!!! I'm really happy that finally you decided to come.

M'agrada aquesta foto, estas molt... interessant ;) (miraves el barça? je ejje)

And thank you for loving me and for always being there.

Thank you for not be tired of me even though sometimes I'm just an asshole.

[Recordo l'estiu passat en aquella illa... Recordo el sol sota la pell, recordo els teus ulls dolços mirant-me cada mati. T'enyoro, t'enyoro, t'enyoro.

Pensava que era més forta, però no. Necessito anar a casa, jeure al meu llit i sentir el papa cada dia: que puc fer per dinar?

Tot em treu de polleguera avui. El meu company de pis em treu de polleguera.

Avui, l'iglú que va construir el Vincent em sembla més confortable que el meu pis.

Sola i malalta a la meva habitació, m'estic tot el dia entre aquestes 4 pareds blanques, pero la meva ment viatja lluny... cap a Espanya.

Algunes coses m'han decepcionat aquí. Em decepciono jo mateixa també, perquè no aprendré mai, sempre els mateixos errors, no sabré mai com manejar aquestes situacions i no entendré mai que he de continuar, que els bons moments tornaran algun dia... els esperaré a la meva habitació, sola i malalta.

Perquè sempre em ve la regla quan tinc ressaca? La resposta la té la Morgane: pq sempre tinc ressaca.
Estic cansada de sortir cada dia fins a perdre el control. Estic cansada de festes descontrolades a tot arreu. Estic cansada de mi mateixa, arribant cada dia a les 8 del matí quan dic que no surto.

Estic de mala hostia aquesta semana. L'única cosa que ma fet somriure ha estat el Funky Tibo ballant a l'ideal bar. Ell és funky. I el Gonzalo i el seu despiste i el gat que es pixa.

Recordo l'últim cop que vaig tornar a casa, com un somni llunyà del passat.

Us estimo a tots.

Gràcies per venir noies, em salvareu la vida.

Gràcies per venir Ramonet! quina il·lusió que al final t'hagis decidit... encara me'n recordo quan compravem el billet: "el compro i a tomar pel cul!"

I gràcies a tu, per a estimar-me, per sempre ser allà, per suportar-me encara que molts cops no soc més que una idiota.]

week 16th - 20th April

After Jylland all comes back to the normality, or to the abnormality or the subnormality in some cases. The Jylland hangover stayed only for one day, an after this small break... come back to work. My feet, the ones that were flying in Jylland, will step on the library again, and on the Trekroner station many times this week.

This week I could do all the things that I should do many time ago. New cpr number, go to Netto and recycle all the cans stocked in my house from years ago, send some letters to Spain, to my family, and read and study. I could do it because of my new "second hand" bike ;) you know what I mean.
I love this bike. It gives me freedom. Now I feel powerful, all the city is under the wiles of my bike, and I can bicycle during hours, around all the streets of Kobenhavn. I think it will be one of the things I'm gonna miss more from Denmark; my bike.

Another Asian party broke the monotony of the first days after the trip. Li prepared a great dumpings and spring rolls party for us. We love this guy, we love his 24 hour smile, and his generosity. We love him because he have always something to offer. Can be a big smile, a hug, an orange, a banana, a tai chi lesson or a great advice. Li xiangan, make a streptease for us!

But something else broke the monotony this week also. Thursday was the fools day. What began as a nice party finished with a drunkness parade, and the result wasn't nice for everybody... That night the alcohol drave me to the reality, and I could see some things that usually are hided. I would like not to be there, but I was, and the next morning all was paint in black.
Sometimes people can break hearts, but you can always put a plaster and go on.
This Friday was the first day I felt homesick. I missed all that I have in Spain, because I know that what I have here is not gonna be forever...
And I missed you, more than ever. I'm in love again. Be sure. Even though you think I only miss you when I'm in trouble or when I feel down.
It's usual to miss somebody who is far, but is not normal to miss somebody who lives around the corner. Or maybe it is.

[Después de Jylland todo vuelve a la normalidad, o a la anormalidad, o a la subnormalidad algunas veces. La resaca de Jylland estuvo allí solo un dia mas, y despues de ese corto descanso...volver a trabajar.

Mis pies, que habian volado en Jylland, volvieron a pisar las bibliotecas, y la maldita estación de Trekroner muchas veces esta semana.

Esta semana pude hacer las cosas que queria hacer hace tiempo. Cambiar mi numero cpr, ir al Netto a reciclar todas esas latas atrapadas en mi piso des de hacia años, enviar cartas y postales a mi familia, leer y estudiar... Y todo eso lo he podido hacer gracias a mi bici. Mi nueva bici de "segunda mano" jeje.

Me encanta esa bici. Me da libertad. Me siento poderosa, con toda la ciudad bajo sus ruedas. Puedo rodar durante horas, por todas las calles de Kobenhavn. Creo que va a ser una de las cosas que mas echaré de menos cuando me vaya. Mi bici.

Otra fiesta asiática rompió la monotonia de los primeros dias después del viaje. Li preparó una gran fiesta con dumpings y rollitos de primavera para nosotros. Nos encanta ese chico. Tan chinamente sonriente. Nos encanta su generosidad. Nos encanta porque siempre tiene algo que ofrecer: ya sea una gran sonrisa, un abrazo, una naranja, un platano, una clase de tai chi o un proverbio chino. Li xiangan, te queremos!

Pero algo más rompió la monotonia esta semana. El jueves fué el dia de los locos. Lo que empezó como una fiesta genial acabó como un festival de borracheras, y los resultados no fueron bonitos para todos... Esa noche, el alcohol me condució hacia la realidad, y pude ver cosas que normalmente estan escondidas.
Hay gente que puede romper corazones, pero siempre puedes poner una tirita y seguir adelante.
Este viernes fue el primer dia que me sentí nostalgica de casa. Eché de menos todo lo que tengo en España, porque lo que tengo aquí se que no es para siempre...
Te echo de menos, mas que nunca. Me enamoré otra vez. Puedes estar seguro. Aunque creas que solo te echo de menos cuando estoy triste.
Es normal echar de menos a alguien que esta lejos. Lo que no es normal es hechar de menos a alguien que vive al doblar la esquina. O quizá si lo es.]

Jylland 3, The Jylland foolosophy

As Irene says... surrealism in pure state. Something was upside down in this trip... When our breakfast is a cookie with a pill for headache, when we have lunch in a parking slot, when we wear devil socks or flowers in our hair, when we swim in the north sea in april, when we crash everything with a plastic sword... then we are living in the fools dimension.
Jylland, where the girls don't wear shoes in the street, where the elephants cross the caves, where every toothbrushing is a party, the queen is a Lego figure, fakta trolleys are racing cars, and everything (oranges included) is art.

We are young, forever young.

[ Como dice Irene, surrealismo en estado puro...

Algo estaba cabeza abajo en este viaje.

Cuando nuestro desayuno es una galleta con una pastilla para el dolor de cabeza, cuando comemos en un parking, cunado vestimos calcetines del diablo y flores en nuestro pelo, cuando nadamos en el Mar del Norte en pleno abril, cuando lo rompemos todo con una espada de plástico... entonces estamos en la dimensión de los locos.

Judland, donde las chicas no llevan zapatos en la calle, donde los elefantes cruzan las cuevas (en busca de queso), donde cada vez que nos lavamos los dientes es una fiesta, donde el rey es un muñequito lego, los carritos del fakta hacen carreras y todo (incluido las naranjas) es arte.

Somos jóvenes, para siempre.]