Downtown

Nice contrast

I stepped into this shop, where they were playing  "Ella", de Bebe (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1VH6LG2WDD4)

As I had no friends backing me up, I took a pic to some strangers.

I will pay ANYTHING

03.09.2013

Today (Tue) I met our big boss (who's tuned out to be Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum's brother, my apologies for the wrong information provided yesterday!). He is a quite impressive Emirate, with big hands, vitiligo in lips and fingers, busy eyebrows, inquisitive and sincere eyes and such a cottony voice that makes you want to hug him and squeeze him ( I was happy with a hand shake, though). I, predictably, felt in love.

Besides his physical characteristics of a full-fledged man, he offered us a high quality brewed cappuccino, freshly picked dates (specifically picked for us!) and a velvety avocado smoothie. What else do you need to get your heart melted? We had a nice one-hour talk, with laughs, periods of silence and warmed intersperses sips of brevage. One of the funniest stories rose when talking about English language and us (foreigners) trying to learn how to speak it properly (a most of the times lost battle). The anecdote goes as follows: Both of them were having a high standard business meeting at a very posh restaurant with very VIP company (I think you get the idea) when his wife’s turn to ask for drinks came. Toda digna, she asked for a glass of cock (instead of coke). Inevitably, giggling and blushing happened. (Reading this now doesn’t sound THAT funny, but I promise it was when he told the story...).

After work I decided to go and explore “the big city” for the first time. I was brave enough to walk 30 min (and of course, get lost) towards the tube station under the scorching 39ºC sun. It is not surprising that Dubai is not peasant-friendly in any way: this heat can kill anyone who dares to defy the power of solar energy. To feel a bit more local (ex-pat local type!), I bought the NUL-card (Dubai’s oyster), valid for a whole year (it will be my legacy for the future interns). Even though it was pick hour, I was happily surprised of the spaciousness of the wagons. I had plenty of space and was almost able to sit. My eyes were on stalks (;)) when I left my head and saw dozens of men piled 5 meters away from my heavenly free of crowdiness (let me make up some words... it is called writer’s licence) carriage. I had stepped into the women-only-carriage without even noticing and I am afraid to say that I’ve become addicted to it. What a blessing... Apparently, the ratio male:female is 1:7, so it is paramount to keep as cautious and away from (single) men as possible :S. A simple smile can trigger an invitation to harassment. I’m finding it difficult not to smile in the street to random people or not to say good morning to the workers at my doorstep. But... I guess I just have to follow the rules I’ve been taught.

My destination reached, I got off the tube (or metro, as they call it here) and followed an astonishing 828m long concrete a/c tongue that took me straight to the Dubai Mall, in “Downtown Dubai”. (see pics, whenever I can download them...).  In this area you can find the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world (yesterday’s pic! Though you cannot see the tip at the end of it), the Dubai Aquarium (I met the director of curators, a Spanish girl from Jeréz, and will probably get the chance to get a private aquaculture-tour), and the Duabi Fountain, amongst others.

I finished the night with my first CS meeting in Dubai, where I met a really nice guy who reminds me loads to Yuri and who blew my mind when openly accepted that he was working in an engineer-full (oh, yes! more and more engies) ghetto in Iraq just for the money. Now I feel stupid for being THAT surprised, but still gets me the chills when thinking about it. I decided not to go for beer, and had a fresh watermelon juice instead. Yummy!

Oh, Canada! There’s a picture especially for you.

No country for... hippies

Too late for anything else than a pic.

Back on the road

31 Aug 2013

Bueno mundo, bueno natxo,

Heme aquí en la gaugua de camino al aeropuerto. Un juggler está haciendo tricks en la carretera bajo el incipiente y raramente ya familiar sol veraniego, con la 88 (que termina en Camden town) esperando pacientemente  a que el semáforo torne verde. 

Se me queda un nudo en la barriga, que asciende destino corazón, cuando me despido. “Cuanto antes me despida, antes me olvidaré de ti”. Me dicen que no es una frase romántica pero yo solo puedo ver amor en cada una de esas letras.

Pero no nos distraigamos, pues yo quiero hablaros de mí, para mí, por mí. Quiero recordarme, en un futuro, cómo me cambió otro más de mis viajes, de mis vueltas de hojas, de mis mudas de piel.

Marcho a Dubai, durante mis vacaciones del PDSA (mi currito en Lnd) para hacer un internado de 4 semanas en un hospital de halcones. Verdaderamente, no tengo muy claro qué es lo que voy a hacer. Lo que sé es que los halcones son demasiado caros para andar jugando con ellos, voy a poder hacer endonscopias y fracture repairs en cadáveres, y tomaré decisiones a la hora de tratar colecciones privadas de fauna salvaje del mandamás-figura autoritaria de Dubai, Rashid Al Maktoum. Sé que el centro forma parte de un programa de rehabilitación de especies en peligro tales como ciertos antílopes y una especie de guepardo procedente del norte de África, pero no sé hasta qué modo estaré envuelta en esto.

Después de Dubai, marcho a Turquía por una semana, pues una muy buena amiga se me casa (dos veces en una semana!). Estaré rondando por entre Bodrum y Ankara.

Soy consciente de que he estado bastante tiempo sin dar noticias, pero esto de disfrutar la vida al máximo tiene el turndown de que no te deja mucho tiempo libre, y el que te queda, lo quieres usar para ti (.Para mí). Sin embargo, y como ya bien sabéis después de todos estos años, este mail os llega porque se os quiere y pienso a menudo en vosotros.

Voy a escribir en el blog (http://ekukia.blogspot.ae/) e ir saltando del inglés al español, así más o menos tendréis todos (los que queráis) una idea generalizada de lo que ocurre.

02.Sept.2013

Dearest beloved ones,

I’m going to try to satisfy your thirst of knowledge about my whereabouts as good as possible. It is, as you should already know, much easier for me to write in Spanish than in English. However, I’m going to give it a try. Only under one condition: Once in a while I need one of you to correct some of the terribly written sentences posted in this blog. Like that, not only me, but all the other Spanish readers (hopefully a bunch of good friends) will learn from my mistakes and your altruist generosity.

Having said so, let’s start some writing…

I got to Dubai 2 days ago, ready to start a 4 weeks internship at a Falcon Hospital where I’ll be working with falcons and private wildlife collections. Of course, there is a small moral issue here, but the desire of learning, traveling and to experience a different culture have driven me here. Besides, I’ve only heard good things about this internship, so why shouldn’t I try.

I find it ironic that these are my holidays: when in London I have a 2days/week contract (although it is known that I always work a bit more than that!), whereas here I’m going to be working full time! Do not worry, though: at the end of this month I’ll start a lovely journey through Turkey alongside my dearest and engaged friend Damla.  Can’t wait.

Back to right here, right now (sorry, I know I repeat myself). The falcons we treat at the hospital are property of or are sponsored by Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum, the ruler of Dubai. Therefore, HE pays for all the expenses, meaning that we do not have to deal with money (kind of a PDSA, but for rich and well positioned people).  Today Sarah, the nurse, had to go to the palace to have a talk with him and was thinking of taking me along, however, “our (big) boss” was busy with mysterious duties and we finally couldn’t go. Next time, maybe.

I’m still waiting for Conor, my future mentor, to arrive. Till that moment, I’m working only at the falcon hospital, where the day carries on as follows: We start at 8am, when clients arrive with their falcons and fill in some basic paperwork. Most of the falcons arriving these days are new acquisitions (from anywhere in the world: USA, Germany, UK…) or former champions from last year falconry exhibitions that require a general check up. This grossly includes: PE, weight, blood sample (HTC, smear, WBC manual count), crop swab, faeces sample (direct microscopy), xray, endoscopy and biopsy of lesions when necessary. Así que entran y salen como chorizos. One thing to bear in mind, the pace is way slower than at the PDSA: case by case, never dealing with two animals at a time (qué decir de 3 ó 4!), no stress present (so far). Lovely. I have the impression that working with Indian people plays a role here, which I’m really thankful for (they are so polite and gentle!). So far we have had peregrine falcons, gyr falcons, barn owls, desert eagle owls and a Harris’s hawk (cool!). This morning we also had a one-month old Speke’s gazelle with a distal metatarsal fracture, quite nasty and close to the joint :S. A. made a phone call and recommended to turn it into cheetah food, but someone at the palace wanted us to try... so we did. Poor little 2.5kg baby, cute as only an innocent toddler gazelle can be. Such eyes can melt anyone’s heart. Will come back next week for a check up.

As I was saying, Connor will come tomorrow and I’ll learn a bit more about my duties. Ah! On Thurs Neil Forbes is coming to give a talk and we’re all invited :).

I’ll try to post pics and update the with different topics a few times per week (sometimes in Spanish, sometimes in English), but can’t promise. Also, the internet connection in my little house is quite crap and I have to get outside to upload anything (meaning leaving the a/c behind and adventure myself into the melting reality of the dustiest and hottest place ever – I think my laptop is just about to catch fire :S).

I haven’t explored the city so far as I’m still settling down (and getting used to the heat!). 

Soon, my children.

Es esto algún tipo de autoboicot?

http://www.amazon.com/Gut-Feelings-The-Intelligence-Unconscious/dp/B001QFZLU2

Qué hago?

chip chip

"If your life were perfect and your dreams came true, what would your life and work be like in 10-15 years?

Se me ha escapado una giggle

wooffing

Me da la sensación de que podemos destruir el mundo por el hecho (que no simple) de no actuar debido al miedo. Qué pasaría si todos nos quedamos congelados ante situaciones determinantes? Qué pasaría si, por miedo a errar, dejo de escuchar lo que mis adentros me dictan y comienzo a formar nuclecitos de hielo entre mis células? Qué pasaría si, poco a poco, me convierto en un tronco duro y leñoso, sin savia que fluya por ninguna de mis tuberías?
No es ya bastante miserable el seguir viva sin corazón alguno? Por qué motivo debería permitir mantenerme encerrada en esta torre de insensibilidad y aprecio nulo por el resto de seres humanos? Por qué, me pregunto, me empeño en crecer hacia arriba y separarme a cm/día del calor del resto de los seres humanos?

Me gustaría saber cómo he podido dejar crecer tanto mi orgullo e impedido a mi bomba roja el preciado poder de la regeneración. Es realmente un sistema de protección natural? O es, por (lo que yo llamaría) el contrario, otra más de las ideas creadas por este laberinto entrecruzado de sesos bañados en lagos de neurotransmisores?

The smell of the sidewalk

Ando rellenando un papel de autorización para unos tipos de las Américas a que recochineen en mi pasado y tengan info de mis movimientos más oscuros. Una de las preguntas que me hacen es detallar mi residencia en los últimos 5 años. Bueno... jejje, me entra la risilla. Les voy a contar mis últimos movimientos, pero solo en UK. Sabéis cuántas veces me he mudado de casa desde que vine aquí (en los últimos 16 meses)? Pues con maleta grande y todo, un total de OCHO! Salgo a media de mudanza completa cada 2 meses. Qué cosas!

01.02.13

Pues si al final, como en los viejos tiempos…

Tan rara noche… Los irlandeses, la rosa regalada y abandonada. Los besos, el claxon,, las gracias, la memoria… la imaginación…

Y sin saberlo me mirado hacia atrás y me he encontrado una sonrisa tierna sobre mi hombroderecho. He mirado al cielo, y no estaba sino en frente mis ojos. Sigue una desaparición, continuada con un acomañamiento a mi izq y un momento de silencio, en el que sin saberlo he reducido la marcha.

Hemos tropezado. Y todavía, en las escaleras de mi casa, te despides con un freno.

He sido un tanto subrealista cuando he entrado a casita y la puerta al jardíon estaba abierta. Me he asomado a la ventana y unas gafas grandes con unos ojos gigantescos me han sonreído entre el rocío. Al hacerle compañía he seguido drogándome. Me pregunta si lo he oído;, “la bolsa en el árbol”. Jodidamente el tipo tenía razón. Disculpas, de nuevo. Drogas.