Thursday, April 28, 2022

The Hour That Made My Year!


Los Losada- My grandparents with their 4 kids

(Para leer en español opriman ente enlace)

I always comment on how lucky both my grandmothers were, who often had their grown-up children within an hour from where they lived.  We enjoyed birthdays and random get-togethers often.  My experience as a young person was that all the family lived in the same area.  


Los Couttenye- My grandparents with 17 grandchildren


Seventeen cousins would get together at my grandmother's house for New Year's Day and just play.  After Memé's passing, that changed but with Mamaquerida, who lived so long,  we kept up the singing and the getting together alive.  I am the oldest of the pack of cousins on both sides of the family, and,  if I remember correctly, I think I was the first to leave Venezuela among all of us.

Los Couttenye 1998- Second generation in Venezuela


When I raised my own family, I had the suspicion that neither San Francisco nor I would tie them down.  Avery, Skylr and Renie Joie all left home, and I have a triangle of sorts- 

  • Henley-on-Thames in the UK; 
  • Gardnerville in Nevada; and 
  • an unspecified spot on the map, a van that keeps moving with my daughter inside to wherever there is something interesting to see or a friend to visit.  



As you may imagine, getting together is hard.



2006 UK- Avery and matt's wedding


Margarita 2008- baptism

Caracas 2008 - Five Generations

2104 San Francisco- my wedding to Maurizio

2019 Tulum, Skylr & Maura's wedding


We have been trying to organize some time together for a couple of years, all four of us, with no luck.  

When we part- Ok, see you soon!- we know it will be months (or years) before it happens again.


Ok, see you soon!- we know it will be months (or years) before it happens again.


We said "goodbye" in January 2019 after we all celebrated Skylr and Maura's wedding in Mexico, and little did we know that it would take over three years to be together again.  But here is what I discovered:  when joy happens, it permeates everything, so much so, that even one hour of this bliss is enough!

One Hour = Bliss


In January 2022, after Avery got tickets to come to California, the wheels started turning.  Travel from the UK is a feat only possible through the generosity of family and friends.  To transport three adults across the globe is impossible on a Kindergarten teacher's salary.  There is a lot of love surrounding Avery that got her, Felix and Didi the means to cross the pond.  So now, what will we do? and where will we go?  I spent an afternoon making a general plan.  Here it is:








Then reality checks in: How would we deal with more events than the time we have?  

  • I had two gigs, 
  • Renie had a wedding in Mexico, 
  • Maura, Skylr, and the kids had planned a trip to Disneyland, 
  • Felix wanted an early departure to be with friends and prepare for a rowing race, 
  • and then there was the eternal variable, the weather: heavy snowfall had been predicted.  

All of this needed to happen in the same two weeks?  Yes!

Just arriving and ready for adventure


Avery arrived on Saturday 9 for a Sunday 10 departure.  

We delayed it because, as it happens with climate, there is no understanding all of its moods: one day is super hot, and the next is snowing!  We knew snow wasn't happy-camping weather : ) so we postponed.


Didi modeling her orange dress


Coming back from Alcatraz

We spent a day shopping and went on an impromptu visit to Alcatraz during a windy afternoon.  

Didi and I shopped at Nordstroms Rack and Old Navy, and she modeled for us her new outfits.  

Felix got happily splashed by the waves even as he stood on the third level of the boat.  

Yes, it was that "splashy" of a ride.  

We visited and inspected the jail cells while learning stories of life in Alcatraz.  

We listened to the whole tour- It's amazing!



Random divergence: Do you know that the US has the most incarcerated people per capita in the world?  We have over 1.5 million people behind bars!  This visit has given me a lot to think around justice, judges and judgment.  A particular phrase gave me some context: "A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones," Nelson Mandela said. 


The next day at 4 am, Renie Joie was departing to Mexico via driving to San Diego, crossing the border, flying from Tijuana to DF.  Our Yosemite trip was scheduled for 6 am but it got delayed with me having a stomach ache; yikes!  But we finally made it, out by 9 am.  I love being on the road, car packed to the brim!

Our Sunrise Studio- Didi and I took the top and Avery and Felix the bottom.


We drove up Hells Hollow Road to Marioulomne, Mountain Man's kingdom by the park.  We slept at the Sunrise Studio for two nights- glamping in a Swiss Family Robinson-type accommodation.  On these frigid nights in which our noses would freeze if left outside of our mummy bags, we could see the stars through the transparent roof of this very special cabin.  We kept hot water bottles in our sleeping bags and cooked in Mountain Man's kitchen, where a wood stove kept us toasty.


During our leisurely mornings at the top of the mountain, we sat down on the sunny bench and drank our coffee, eating Belgian Waffle cookies and chit-chatting about theater and music and everything it occurred to us.  Didi and Avery sang Encanto songs with several voices and parts, and Felix played guitar tunes.

No rush, no intensity, super chill!


Yosemite with Mountain Man were two days of hiking, climber-watching and climbing,  

Arriving in Yosemite Valley- the land of the Ahwahnee


Avery, Didi and Coral successfully inched their way up a wall next to the waterfall you pass on the way down to the park... a perfect taste of granite face and crack climbing.  Then Mountain Man went up as comfortable as a squirrel, doob doob dee dub.  Perfect day, perfect weather.  Felix read. 

Spotting Mami on the climb


During our picnic lunch, we explored El Capitán with binoculars: all its courageous climbers looked smaller than microbes on that massive expansive wall.  Later we hiked to the base to see what it was like to start climbing it.  The girls (except me) tried some moves!

Spot the girls up the climb?

Felix's picture of Merced River


Merced River, Bridalveil Falls, Avery and Didi


At the end of the day, we stopped to admire the view from the Merced River, looking through the valley with the towering Half Dome.  I can never tire of admiring with awe this gorgeous park, the falls, the sun on the river, the monumental rocks.

The mother of all clouds!



On our last day in Groveland, we were concerned about the impending snowstorm, but it just didn't happen.  We skipped buying chains, although the weather warnings were grotesque.  We drove squiggly forested roads under very grey skies until we arrived at Hope Valley.  You see these green high-altitude meadows in which the landscape opens into an open blue sky with immense white clouds.  These cumulonimbi were very heavy with grey bottoms that never precipitated.  At times like this, I feel the landscape so moving that it gives me goosebumps.  So glorious! 


And then we kept driving and meandering down into the desert.  

Rydr draws Felix's height-line on the wall for posterity


We arrived at Skylr and Maura's home for the happiest of encounters.  The cousins recognized each other.  Indiana was only months old the last time they met, so this was a new chance to realize that they are family.  Immediately the little ones invited the tall Felix and Didi to take their socks off and go jump on the trampoline where they spent hours!  The fun continued through the evening and ended in the hot tub right before sleeping.  What fun!  They played musical beds until somehow they fell asleep.

And the winner is.... Indiana Jones Penna


We drove up to Tahoe the next day and did a couple of hikes along the lake.  Indiana discovered that he could get "uppy" any time he wanted because he is so cute and had several willing horses (us) to do this.  He was carried the whole time up the hill.  And probably that's why we never reached Monkey Rock.  It was cold, so we ran downhill racing Indy, who always won.  Rydr was at school that day.


On Saturday, we came back to San Francisco, this time under heavy snow.  Beautiful and scary!

Treacherous Driving!


We were slipping and sliding on a white highway 89 through a white-covered forest for a while.  Later on highway 50, we rode behind the snowplow until the snow became rain.  In Placerville, we had our obligatory sandwich at Tommy's Brown Bag.  Their menu never disappoints! 

Everyone helping to get ready for stage II of our trip


That same afternoon we sent Felix on his first solo flight; Indiana and Avery washed my car before that.  Indiana used a toothbrush to clean the leather seats; Avery power-washed the exterior, vacuumed the interior and left it spic-and-span.  Clean car ready for part two of the journey.


Sunday, we all drove to Montaña de Oro, a beautiful campsite close to the ocean in Morro Bay.  We built our tents, cooked sausages, asparagus and corn and Maura told us spooky stories around the campfire.


Monday was going to be a long day, so we started with pancakes and eggs, and just before we drove off, we walked out to the beach and explored its caves and tide pools filled with sea life, swallows nesting in the rocks and anemones that retracted as Didi gently touched them with a piece of kelp.  This beach deserves more time, the next time : ) 








Maura and Skylr took all the kids to their hotel with a super fun pool for the kids and prepared for two days in Disneyland.  Didi went with them, so they had a big sister helping out with possible escapee children.  Six eyes on two little boys is a good thing!




Avery and I went children-free towards Joshua Tree, meeting up with Renie Joie with her appropriate Pocahontas hair near Morongo, an indigenous reservation with the cheapest gas around.  We ate at one of the million In And Out's that we saw along the highways.  We proceeded to buy way too much food at Walmart and arrived at our super cool campsite in the shadow of rock outcrops of Indian Cove.


After all, that shopping, chips, salsa and beer was our dinner as no one felt like cooking- which is perfectly fine for us.

Our campsite in India Cove



Lost in the desert- scrambling is the name of the route?

Renie taking refuge from the hot hot sun


The next day we went to a "hiking trail," which was more like a "scrambling off-trail," and we laughed a lot as nothing seemed to make sense with the trail guide in the app.  No matter, we had fun scrambling in the dessert.  We had food, water and special gummies to keep us happy.


As we drove into our campground #58, we saw the results of the wind- #54 flipped tent, #56 flipped tent, #58 NO TENT!  Where was our tent?


My predictions that a rock wouldn't hold my tent were accurate.  It had flown over and was held by a knot that Avery had practiced for years without knowing if she would ever use it, and it became the anchor to my erratic shelter.  Held by a cord, it didn't fly away but hid behind a boulder.


That afternoon, yes, it was super windy.  We plopped an extra preventive weight into the tent, two tired bodies,  and took a nap waiting for the wind to subside or be blown to outer space in one gust.  Later we'd go on an evening stroll. 

Girls trying to imitate life.

At the highest point in Joshua Tree a few seconds to take the picture and run into a warm car.


We drove up the hill through the Joshua tree forest towards the high vista point and did photo shoots with the Joshua trees, the shadows and the sun setting.  We had crackers, cheese and wine under the gaze of a face-like rock and again, why eat?  Another dinner-less night, no dishes to wash.


The temperature was great, and the moon was almost full, which made the rock formations of Joshua Tree like a lunar landscape.  Beautiful! 


We stopped at a gift shop and bought more knick-knacks.  We got more ice.  How about a few shirts, books, string, etc.?  No matter what you plan, the scheduled time never matches the actual travel time, so by the time we got to Running Springs trailhead, it was late. 


Renie informed us that she really didn't have any clue about how long the hike was nor the time it had taken her to hike it.  It was 3 pm, and it didn't make sense to start.  We hadn't had anything to eat since our amazing eggs, spinach and goat cheese with toast breakfast, so we decided a 6 am departure time the following day would be best.


We finally had one dinner that evening: lentil soup, toast and butter- in a park at the mountain's rim.  Before hiding inside our cars for the night, we adventured to another odd trail that didn't take us anywhere but caused a miracle to happen. 

Ta ta ta taaaaan!

The start-the-trail fashion- layers, masks, beanies, coats.

The Miracle

It was very cold and windy, so Renie Joie layered up with most of her clothes, including her long coat.  As she digs into her pockets looking for warmth, she feels some keys and innocently asks: Mami, why do I have your keys in my pocket?  Yes, miracles do happen.  


The keys had been lost for weeks, and we put the whole house upside down trying to find them.  I began wondering if Alzheimer's had crept into my brain, remembering this was one of the typical disappearances that occurred when my grandfather started losing his faculties.  I'm a person of strong habits that will not know where to look unless it is where I usually place things, so it was a "trauma" to have lost my keys.  In the meantime, Avery would tell her kids this was a regular occurrence during her childhood.  Even if you change them, some things will stay fixed in history, period.  Mami loses her keys!  I'm doomed forever and ever!


We continue the story...

We caravanned to our "campsite" with newfound happiness. The barren dirt parking lot was NOT a campsite but a perfect place for van-lifers to park.  We did not pitch a tent and slept two in the van and one in the car.  

Early morning- 5:30 am temperatures below freezing


The next morning at 5:30 am, Renie Joie's nemesis (Super Cold) surrounded us, it was freezing.  In our pajamas, we drove to the trailhead to give a try to this uncharted trail (not found in the apps), no-info-hike that Renie swore was the hardest she's ever done in her life! Would we be in trouble? I even considered staying in the car.

Let's use the slide-on-your-butt technique!


Going down to Deep Creek Hot Springs ended up being just 1.25 hrs, and if I had to describe it, I'd say, "Bring a piece of cardboard so you can slide down on your butt" - Yes, it was steep!  But not impossible.

Our reward for the 2 mi hike


We absolutely LOVED IT! 3 pools of different warmth.  We only dipped into the cooler pool, which had the river right next to it.  From it we were able to plunge into the cold water and swim.  I did the exchange of hot-cold water about four times.  I just loved swimming by the rocks on that frigid stream and climb into a super warm pool to then do it all over again.  


We met a bunch of Pacific Coast Trail (PCT) trekkers and learned many details about being on that four to five months trail.  It sounds like there is great camaraderie among hikers who start at the Mexican border, each carrying all their stuff.  Then, little by little, they shed unnecessary things arriving with just the essentials by the time they reach Canada.  I'm curious about this.

Renie's hiking back fashion- Glut tanning and toning at the same time.


We got quite distracted with our new friends, and when we realized the time, we hiked in a hurry huffing and puffing up the sandy nightmarish slide, jumped in the car and drove off to Glen Hellen Park, a random spot on the map that avoided that Skylr and Maura would have to inflict on the kids a drive up San Bernardino mountains on very curvy roads.  Who wants barfing children?  No one!


Woo hoo! we made it!


They arrived at the park a little earlier than us, and finally, there we were: Mama Bear and her three cubs, the three kids and me, a dream come true!  Yay!


I may sound exaggerated and overly dramatic, but there is something I cannot explain that really gives me that happy feeling of completeness when I have my three "babies" together with me.  Yes... they are not babies, but I feel happy, like a reminiscence of good ol' times, in nature, on the road, us together.


In the end, everything had gotten squeezed and sorted.  Like plasticine, we massaged all the parts until everyone did what they wanted.  I had the joy of having three children together in the strangest park- a grassy patch among super highways, train tracks and truck depots at the foot of the mountains-. 

Skylr sporting Renie Joie's Mexican hat

Indy with tia Renie

The English girls

Fantastic Six!




I truly enjoyed our time, and they enjoyed the reunion too!  

We all played and ran around the kid's park structure.  Indy told me I was to be the Black Panther, and he constantly fired at me, killing me more than once.  Rydr is an excellent climber and enacted Spiderman poses that tia Avery couldn't copy.  Maura took a deserved nap after their Disney adventure, and very quickly, three pm rolled along, and we had to say goodbye again.  

We had about, one hour? two hours max?

I could have cried.  

You know I like to be Miss Chill, I strive for easy and relaxed, playful and unencumbered with we-need-to-go pressure, but this time, somehow I let all this go.  I was not bothered by the hurry, the shortness, the tiredness, the prospect of a long drive. I WAS HAPPY!

It was a perfect hour!

I felt great having played a little, taken a few pictures and seeing them happy too! 

Hasta la vista, Baby! - ciao- au revoir - ci vediamo- see you later alligator!



Ok, see you soon!- (we know it will be months or years before it happens again)


With a seven-hour drive home ahead, we got into the car and took off. 









Tuesday, January 25, 2022

There Will Be No Mega-Party!


January 29 is my birthday, and as usual, I have a big celebration.


This year, since I am turning 60, I had planned to do the Mega Party. Actually,  I have dreamed of it for years. -When I turn 60, I will invite Venezuelan drummers, a string quartet, magicians to perform tricks, a Brazilian batucada, the guests will dress up with a theme-. I had already thought of several possibilities like "Masquerade," "Your Spirit Animal," "Los 60," etc. but no....


My intuition wouldn't let me send the invitation, and a few weeks ago, I let go of my illusion.


No one wants a mess with the Corona Virus jumping from body to body doing its thing. No, no, no.


But this birthday is very significant for me.


My mom- 20 years old

Sixty years ago, I felt my mother's skin for the first time, and I felt and smelled her body. Today she is 80, and she is still my inspiration. I celebrate her,  who at 20 years old, cute and shy, this girl brought me into the world—her first baby.


Me, 20 years old - w/ Johanna and my mom

Forty years ago, I was the same age as her, 20 years old, but instead of giving birth, I was going to a different country, to a place where I didn't know anyone, another language and another culture. That January 29, I didn't know that I would never live permanently in Chuao again. Traveling through Miami on a flight to San Francisco, I was a combination of fearless daredevil with a Pollyanna attitude. Zero fear, zero worries. My mom told me to call her when I got somewhere safe, and I did!



Me, 36 years old with my kids in my new home.

On January 21, 1998, I was already 36 and had three children. That was 24 years ago already. Something so unpredictable happened that I don't believe it to this day. The mortgage application was approved for a house in San Francisco that, despite being a fixer-upper, I could not afford. In the following years, I worked very hard to keep payments up to date without missing a single one, and I still do. I'm proud of this. It is my home, where I live today, and presently,  my income. This is something to celebrate too.

This year that same house, La Casa Rosada,  turns 107 years old, and I love her. She needs a new roof and a coat of paint, but it's still standing, and it's still the meeting place for family and friends.




Me, as "la vieja" (the old one)


In 2022 as a sexagenarian, I fully accept being called "old." Hahaha. I've reached middle age or whatever, and I am very honored to be on that sixth floor. Hahaha.

* * * 

The mother who brought me into this world is still wise, inspiring me, joyful. She keeps sending me light every day.

* * * 

That brave young woman of 20 still lives in me, forgets my age, and propels me to new ventures and romantic dreams: a language learning online school, a movie about Venezuelan music, a house in the tropics with an ocean view!

* * * 

That determined 36-year-old mom also lives in me, moving my wheels, committed more than ever to the children I raised and now to my four grandchildren. Very exciting!

with Rydr and Indiana

with Didi, Felix and my nephew Carlos Eduardo

* * * 

In 2021 I broke a new barrier - stumbling, but I crossed it. I traversed a fixed limit, immutable and impetuous and impossible-to-cross wall that has been there since my first kiss:

I had never lasted more than seven years in a love relationship. The maximum had been five, married to Michael ( seven of knowing each other). Today, Maurizio and I continue steadily towards our eighth year of back-and-forth. Woo Hoo!


With my side-kick Maurizio


* * * 


This tale brings me to my 60th birthday, January 29, 2022

1.

I did my job raising my three beautiful children with as much dedication as I could. Right now, everything I do is "de ñapa," extra, and it is joyful to live like that.

2.

Every day there is something to be celebrated - I'm not exaggerating; my diary confirms it. I've been celebrating every day for more than 365 days, and anyone who reads my journal will be able to say that I'm still a pathologic optimist. Hahaha

3.

I have learned to soothe myself on demand. It's not magic; it's perspective. But really magical truly!.

It doesn't mean I don't suffer or feel sad or throw tantrums. All this happens to me, but I also have that little guardian angel (as any Catholic good-girl should) who whispers in my ear. Ok, this is entirely untrue. I have a tool that I use: The Eightfold Path. But that is another story.

4.

Happy birthday to me and... we'll do the Mega Party at another time.


Me, an eternal optimist!

¡No Habrá Mega Fiesta!




El 29 de enero es mi cumpleaños y como de costumbre hago una tremenda fiesta.


Este año, como cumplo 60, planeaba hacer la Mega Fiesta.  Lo soñé por años.  -¡Cuando cumpla 60 lo haré! Invitaré unos tambores venezolanos, un cuarteto de cuerdas,  magos que hagan trucos, una batucada brasileña, los invitados se disfrazarán con un tema- ya había pensado varias posibilidades como "Baile de Máscaras" "Tu Espíritu Animal" "Los 60" etc., pero no.... 


Mi intuición no me dejaba mandar la invitación y hace algunas semanas, por fin dejé esa ilusión.


Nadie quiere un desmadre con el Corona Virus saltando de cuerpo a cuerpo haciendo de las suyas. No no no.

* * * 


Pero este cumpleaños es muy significativo para mí.



Mi Mamá de 20 años

Hace 60 años por primera vez sentí la piel de mi mamá y sentí y olí su cuerpo.  Hoy ella tiene 80 y sigue siendo mi inspiración.  La celebro. Aquella que a sus 20 años, linda y tímida, me trajo al mundo- su primer bebé.

Yo de 20 años con Johanna y mi mamá

Hace 40 años yo tenía su misma edad, 20 años,  pero en vez de estar pariendo estaba partiendo a un país diferente, a un lugar donde no conocía a nadie, otro idioma y otra cultura.  Ese 29 de enero no sabía que nunca volvería a vivir en Chuao permanentemente. Montada en un vuelo con escala en Miami hasta San Francisco yo era una combinación de audacia intrépida con una actitud de Pollyanna. Cero miedo, cero preocupación. Mi mamá me dijo,- Llámame cuando llegues a algún lugar seguro.- y así lo hice.


* * * 

Yo de 36 años con mis hijos en mi casa nueva.


El 21 de enero de 1998 andaba por los 36 y tenía tres niños. Eso fué hace 24 años ya y cuando sucedió algo tan insólito que hasta el día de hoy no me lo creo.  Fui aprobada para el financiamiento de una casa en San Francisco que, a pesar de estar medio destartalada,  yo no podía costear. Por años me las arreglé trabajando muy duro para mantener pagos al día sin faltar ni una vez hasta el sol de hoy.  Esto me enorgullece. Es mi hogar, donde vivo y también mi pan de cada día. Esto es algo también para celebrar.

Este año mi casa cumple 107 años y la amo. Le toca techo nuevo y una mano de pintura pero sigue en pie y sigue siendo el lugar de encuentro con muchos amigos.

* * * 



¡La vieja!

Hoy, llegando a 60, ya seré una sexagenaria, el año que he decido aceptar plenamente que me llamen vieja. Ja ja ja.  Llegó la tercera edad o lo que sea y estoy muy honrada de ese sexto piso o tercer piso o como sea. Ja ja ja.

* * * 

Esa mamá que me trajo al mundo sigue allí sabia, inspiradora, alegre.  Me sigue dando luz cada día.

* * *

Esa joven valiente de 20 vive en mí, olvidándose de mi edad, impulsándome a nuevos emprendimientos y sueños románticos: una escuela de español en línea, una película, una casa tropical con vista al mar!

* * *

Esa determinada mamá de 36 sigue en mí, moviendo mis ruedas,  comprometida más que nunca con mis hijos y ahora con mis cuatro nietos.  ¡Muy emocionante!

con Rydr e Indiana- 2021

con Didi, Felix y Carlos Eduardo- 2021

* * * 

En el 2021 rompí una nueva barrera- dando tumbos, pero la pasé. Pasé un límite fijo, inmutable e impetuoso, una pared imposible de traspasar que existía desde mi primer beso. 

Nunca había durado más de siete años en una relación amorosa. Guau! Lo máximo fueron cinco de casada con Michael(siete de conocernos).  Hoy, Maurizio y yo seguimos al pie del cañon con nuestro octavo año de guabineo.  Woo Hoo!

Con mi compinche Maurizio 2021

* * * 


Lo cual me trae al día de mi cumpleaños 29 de enero, 2022

1.

Hice mi trabajo al criar a mis tres hermosos hijos con la mayor dedicación que pude.  Ahorita todo lo que hago es "de ñapa" y es divertidísimo vivir así.

2.

Cada día es una celebración de alguna cosa- no exagero, mi diario lo confirma. He estado celebrando cada día por mas de 365 días, y cualquiera que lea mi cuaderno de notas podrá decir que sigo siendo una optimista patológica. Ja ja ja

3.

He aprendido a contentarme yo misma ipso facto con solo desearlo. No es magia, es perspectiva.  Pero realmente mágico, de verdad.

No significa que no sufra o me sienta triste o me den rabietas.  Todo eso me sucede pero también tengo ese angelito de la guardia (como buena católica) que me susurra al oido.  Ok esto es completamente incierto.  Tengo una herramienta que uso: Las Cuatro Nobles Verdades.  Pero esa es otra historia.

4.

Feliz cumpleaños para mí y... ya haremos la Mega Fiesta en otra oportunidad.


Eterna Optimista!






 

Friday, December 31, 2021

A Truly Abundant Life

 I was talking with my cousin the other day, and we remarked about our privileged childhood and youth in Venezuela.

1973


The next day, an image illustrated just what we were talking about arrived: click!


Oh! The is the beauty of saving memories and connecting through Facebook. 


A couple of photos appeared in my inbox, and my jaw dropped!


😳                      


Through Messenger, I got a photo of some agenda mini-pieces of paper that I wrote to Ann. They were written according to her in 1973. The letter was kept in an old shoebox in the attic of her house in Massachusetts. 


I do not remember Ann well. Today she is a Ms. X that I would not recognize.


She probably doesn't remember me either, but she does have proof that we were friends! 


Below I copy how she introduced this little treasure to me:




I must have been eleven years old. 


In one of the letters, I describe to Ann - my dear friend from the camp whom I do not remember - what happened during the rest of my vacation. Presumably, 1973.


I imagine it was written in September. 

I was telling her what I had done right after spending two months at the girls' camp -Camp Atahi, in Conway, New Hampshire- (Bea, Gila and Johanna were there too)





I transcribe keeping my spelling errors:


"Hi Ann, I just recieved your letter when I return from school.  I just finish English class.  I enjoy very much my vacation.  I went to the secuarium in Miami I saw flipper, the sharks and more things.  I saw Silver Spring, Cypress Garden, everglade etc.

When I went to Washington I saw many museums and Washington monumes etc. 

When I arrived to Caracas I went to the beach I now I am in school and I am resting of my vacation Well write me Rennea"

* * *


Tremendous itinerary, my God!


* * *


I assume that, at that time, this much traveling was not a big deal for me!


I assume that, at that time, this much traveling was not a big deal for me; it was normal. 


Was it normal?


Did I forget New York? 1973

Detail from above: Dolita Dávila, Johanna and I



Today I think it through when I use the adjective "normal." 


Normal compared to what?


I took all these things for granted: going to a school where English was taught daily, being sent two months to a foreign country to "practice"; visiting Boston, Washington, New York staying at cool hotels and visiting numerous cultural attractions; driving up and down Florida visiting every park in sight.  And in the characteristic way of my letter, I'll say et cetera. 


My perspective now is that my childhood and my youth were a total luxury. 

Extraordinary, I must say. :)


The "quinceañera" trip to Europe is another story.


* * *


2021 sunset over Pedro Point, Pacifica



Today my life is grand. I emphasize, it is still a luxury. 

Rich! Abundant!

I DO NOT take it for granted.


I get up at the time I want, eat what I prefer, have a choice on what I'll do, I choose what I'm most inspired to do practically every day. Isn't that amazing?


Yes, TOTALLY!


Nowadays, the feeling I get from this recognition is that it is payback time.  

I want to restore something to the universe, to do some service to humanity. 

It is the least I can do after receiving and receiving and receiving so much.


I know better who I am.


Creating is my passion.


I am fascinated by researching, inventing, doing, enjoying.


I want to sing, draw, recite, dance and share


* * *



Practically- my feet on the ground consist of:


I


I keep working on my film Cambur Pintón because I have an idea that blows my mind!

See here




II 


Also,

I want to create the possibility that children in the US become bilingual before the age of eleven (the age I was when I wrote that letter in almost perfect English) Children are ripe at a young age to acquire a second language and experience different ways of thinking.



I would like to see the diversity of each region of the world be celebrated. I'd love for people to know and value their ancestry no matter where they come from. Language is a great vehicle!

See here




* * *



Today those tiny pieces of paper with my handwriting reminded me of the value of traveling, learning about other people and places. Above all, they remind me of what and why I do what I do.


🙏🏼 🙏🏼 🥂


Thanks to the universe, my family and my friends for enhancing my life and keeping it rich and delicious!


2021 happy!

PS. Searching through albums... 

Anne, Is that you? in the blue sweater in this picture?
In which case, this is another proof that we were friends : ) 

Above: Carolina Ponte, Counselor xx Monica?, Ann?, girl xx Heather?, Below: Gila Perez


Una Vida Llena de Abundancia

 El otro día conversaba con una prima y comentábamos acerca de nuestra privilegiada infancia y juventud en Venezuela.

1973


Al día siguiente una anécdota me lo ilustró, ¡zuaz!, una notificación, un click me lo puso de frente. 

¡Oh! Lo bello de guardar recuerdos y conectar en Facebook 

Un par de fotos aparecieron en mi bandeja de entrada, y casi me caigo para atrás.  

    😳

Me llegó por Messenger,  una foto de unos mini papelitos que le escribí a mano, ¡con pluma y papel! : ) a esta persona, Ann. Fueron escritos según ella en 1973. La carta estaba guardada en una caja de de zapatos vieja en el ático de su casa en Massachussets. 

No recuerdo bien a Ann. Hoy es una Sra. X que nunca reconocería.

Ella probablemente tampoco me recuerda, ¡pero si tiene la prueba de que fuimos amigas!. A continuación les copio cómo me presentó este pequeño tesoro:

"Here's proof that we were friends! Found this in old box of letters.  1973, hang on, need to attach something."





Yo tendría once años de edad. En una de las cartas le describo a Ann- mi querida amiga del campamento a quien no recuerdo-  lo que fué del resto de mi vacación presuntamente en el año 73.  

Me imagino que fue escrita en septiembre, y le contaba lo que había hecho después de haber pasado dos meses en el campamento de niñas, -Camp Atahi, en Conway New Hampshire-. (Bea, Gila y Johanna estuvieron allí también)




Transcribo manteniendo mis errores ortográficos: 


"Hi Ann, I just recieved your letter when I return from school.  I just finish English class.  I enjoy very much my vacation.  I went to the secuarium in Miami I saw flipper, the sharks and more things.  I saw Silver Spring, Cypress Garden, everglade etc.

When I went to Washington I saw many museums and Washington monumes etc. 

When I arrived to Caracas I went to the beach I now I am in school and I am resting of my vacation Well write me Rennea"



* * *

Tremendo itinerario ¡Dios!

* * *

Esa viajadera no era gran cosa para mí, era lo normal. 


Supongo que para aquel entonces esa viajadera no era gran cosa para mí, era lo normal. 

¿Era lo normal?


¿No mencioné Nueva York? o esto es Boston?


Detalle de arriba: Dolita Dávila, Johanna y Rennea.


Hoy en día lo pienso mucho cuando voy a usar el adjetivo "normal".  

Normal ¿en comparación a qué?

Creo que nunca aprecié mi vida tanto como lo hago ahora: ir a un colegio donde enseñaban inglés diariamente, ser mandada a un pais extranjero por dos meses para "practicarlo"; visitar Boston, Washington, Nueva York quedándonos en hoteles hermosos y visitando toda clase de atracciones culturales; manejando en caravana por Florida y parando en cuanto parque se nos antojara.  Y para mantener el estilo y caracter de mi carta del 73 voy a añadir ¡et cetera!

Mi perspectiva ahora es que mi infancia y mi juventud fueron un lujo a todo dar. 

Fuera de lo normal. : ) 

Por cierto, no voy a hablar aquí del viaje de quinceañera, eso es otro cuento.

* * *



2021 Puesta de sol sobre Pedro Point


Hoy mi vida es grandiosa.  Enfatizo, sigue siendo un lujo. 

Es abundante.

No lo doy por sentado.


Me levanto a la hora que yo quiera, como lo que me provoca, tengo opción de hacer lo que me gusta, escojo lo que mas me inspira prácticamente todos los días. ¿No es demasiado? 

Si, ¡Demasiado!

El sentimiento que me da es el deseo de restituirle algo al universo,  prestarle algún servicio a la humanidad,  después de tanto recibir y recibir y recibir.

Hoy sé mucho mejor quién soy yo.

Crear es mi pasión.

Me fascina investigar, inventar, hacer, gozar.

Quiero cantar, dibujar, recitar, bailar y compartir, 

* * *



Con mis patas en el barro:

I

Sigo trabajando en  mi película  porque tengo una idea de lo que quiero mostrar que me mueve el piso. 

AQUÍ



II

Quiero crear la posibilidad de que los niños sean bilingües antes de los once años (la edad que yo tenía cuando escribí esa carta en casi perfecto inglés) para puedan hablar y escribir un segundo idioma perfecto y comprendan a traves del idioma y la cultura diferentes formas de pensar.

Me gusta celebrar la diversidad de cada región del mundo. Quiero que se fomente el amor por las raíces de cada quien, que se reconozcan y sepan de donde vienen. 

AQUÍ


* * *

Hoy esos pedacitos de papel de mi puño y letra me han recordado el valor de viajar, conocer, aprender sobre otras personas y lugares. Sobre todo, me recuerdan qué y por qué hago lo que hago.

🙏🏼 🙏🏼 🥂

Gracias a la vida, a mi familia y a mis amigos por hacer que mi vida siga siendo un lujo.




PD. Buscando en albumes... 

Anne, Is that you? in the blue sweater in this picture?
In which case, there is another proof that we were friends : ) 

Above: Carolina Ponte, Counselor xx Monica?, Ann?, girl xx Heather?, Below: Gila Perez