¡Japi Jalowín!

Acabo de tener una de las experiencias más surreales de mi vida. Llevo 2.5 meses en Polonia. A pesar de ser Halloween, transcurría una noche normal y corriente en el apartamento que comparto con Irina de Georgia (el país, no el estado) y Zhamilya (Kazakhstán). Decidí quedarme en casa descansando. Los jalowines hacen mucho que me aburren.

Ya era pasada la medionoche y me encontraba viendo un capítulo de ¨South Park¨ sobre Cientología y Tom Cruise. Había dejado la puerta abierta un milímetro para sentir el fresquito de afuera. Se me cerraban los ojos, aunque el ruido del pasillo me impedía entrar en un estado de sueño profundo. Los 40 estudiantes españoles de Erasmus que viven en el mismo condominio, otra vez más, decidieron organizar una fiesta con motivo de la noche de brujas. Tanta gente borracha y disfrazada, masacrando las canciones de Sabina con una guitarra desentonada, no dejan dormir a nadie.

Sin embargo, el sueño no tardó en apoderarse de mi. Cerré los párpados medio segundo, hasta que de repente....

¡PAM!

Sentí que algo había volado y se había chocado con mi cara. ¨¡Qué fue ESO?!¨, pensé. La oscuridad de la habitación impidió que viera bien. Muerta del susto, no atreví moverme. De repente en una esquina de mi aposento vi unas alas negras moverse. ¿Mi primera reacción? Un pájaro negro. ¿La segunda? Una paloma o mariposa grande. ¨Pero si estoy en Polonia y aquí no hay mariposas negras grandes como en el Caribe¨, me dije a mi misma. Lo único que tenía claro es que lo que había colisionado con mi frente era un ANIMAL OSCURO y GRANDE.

¨¡AH! ¡AH!¨, grité descontrolada. Se apoderó de mi una histeria perturbada. Me sentí prisionera dentro de una confusa pesadilla. ¨¿Qué era?! ¿Dónde estaba?¨, pensé.

Rápido me vino a la mente una de las supersticiones de las que habla mi madre, quien dice que cuando entra algún animal volador negro a tu casa significa que la muerte está cerca.

Me llené de coraje para levantarme de la cama y abrir la puerta. Fui corriendo a la habitación de Irina a pedir socorro. ¨Un pájaro, un pájaro¨, le dije. ¨¿Qué pasó?¨ contestó, también en un estado soñoliento y perplejo . Agarró la bata de baño, se la puso y fue a averiguar qué había pasado.

Cuando entramos en la habitación, yo, obviamente varios pasos detrás de ella, nos dimos cuenta de que el huésped sin invitación había sido nada más y nada menos que...

¡¡¡un MURCIÉLAGO!!!

El animal era enorme. Negro. Peludo. ¿Cómo había entrado en mi habitación si la puerta estaba practicamente cerrada? ¡No me lo creía! Rápido salí a buscar ayuda de los fiesteros Erasmus mientras el animal intentaba camuflarse entre las cortinas marrones que cubren mis ventanas. Tapé la vista para no morirme de asco y miedo.

Irina y los dos chicos agarraron un jarra de cristal y pasados cinco minutos de batalla con el bicho ciego, lograron atraparlo y devolverlo a la inmensidad de la noche.


31 de octubre. Media noche. Sueños lúcidos. Piso 13. Polonia. Murciélago que me vuela en la cara. Estas cosas sólo me pasan a mí

¡Feliz día de brujas (y murciélagos)!

Teoría del espejo

La vida se mueve deprisa, pasan los días y como sólo somos humanos y no saddhus que levitan por la tierra y se llaman Yogamarandumam, pues a veces se nos olvida detenernos un momento para reflexionar y ser agradecidos. Hablé ayer con un amigo, después que le conté que había soñado con él y me dijo que las cosas en Puerto Rico iban de mal en peor. Que ahora no sólo niñas de escuela intermedia inyectan jeringuillas a sus compañeros de clase por jugarles una broma, sino que también pueden asaltarte y ponerte un revólver en la cabeza tipos que visten con camisa de manga larga un viernes de noche en pleno Condado. Wao. Pues sí, las cosas están jodidas, pero tampoco hay razón para cruzar los brazos y ponernos a llorar o dejar de ser, por un minuto, menos agradecidos.

Esta mañana me levanté y un sol resplandeciente entró por la ventana. Estoy sola en un país que entiendo muy poco, pero cada día que pasa, intento penetrar un poco más. No conozco a prácticamente nadie, con excepción de los estudiantes que veo entrar y salir del edificio donde vivo y las compañeras de piso que tenía, pero que ya se mudaron. Y pues, desde que estoy aquí, en Breslavia, el sur de Polonia, tengo mucho tiempo para compartir conmigo misma.

Almorcé hoy en una cafetería que me gusta mucho y que queda justo enfrente de donde vivo. Y aunque no hay ni un solo plato que cueste más de 20 złoty ($6), la comida es bastante buena y la señora que cocina es alegre y simpática y lo prepara todo con amor. Ahí me senté en la misma mesa de madera de siempre. Me moría de hambre y hasta me comenzó a doler la cabeza esperando que estuviera listo el goulash con pancakes de papa y ensalada. Tenía a Puerto Rico en la mente y las historias que había escuchado y leído en la prensa durante las últimas semanas. Estaba distraída, pensando y cuando devolví la vista a mi nueva realidad polaca, vi a un niño que me miraba firmemente a los ojos.

Era un niñito de unos 6 años. Tenía unos ojos enormes, aunque apagados, y un pañuelo de pirata en la cabeza. No tenía pelo. Hablaba muy poco, sin embargo sonreía bastante. Estaba sentado al lado de su padre, quien le cortaba la carne en trozos y le daba de comer un poco de su sopa. La madre, sentada al otro lado de la mesa, no hablaba. Una expresión vacía y triste ahogaba sus ojos. Le intenté sonreír un par de veces, pero no conseguí respuesta. El niño estaba débil. Pálido. Sin embargo comía, aunque lento, casi cada trozo que le daba el padre.

Cuando llegó mi goulash, comencé a comerlo mientras observaba disimuladamente los movimientos de esta familia. Al poco rato, terminaron sus almuerzos y se dieron a la marcha. La madre le puso una mascarita protectora- de esas de papel para evitar gérmenes- en la cara al niño y cogidos de la mano, desaparecieron.

En ese momento sólo pude pensar una cosa. Ese niño me había impactado, pero mucho… Y de muchas maneras. Creo que finalmente logré digerir por completo la teoría del espejo de Kapuściński, quién decía que es sólo a través de los Otros que logramos entendernos a nosotros mismos. Es decir, los Otros, son un espejo viviente a través del cual se refleja nuestra propia identidad (miedos, alegrías, ansiedades, complejos…)

Los dejo con algo que dijo Oscar Wilde hace muchos años: "A veces podemos pasarnos años sin vivir en absoluto, y de pronto toda nuestra vida se concentra en un solo instante"...

¡Qué disfruten su día!

Hitler, Hallucinogens & Auschwitz

There is a much commented belief that links Adolf Hitler's messianic ideas with his experimentation with hallucinogens. Leyend says that in 1911, Hitler became acquainted with Ernst Pretzsche, a bookseller whose father had travelled to Mexico and spent some time researching Aztec customs, magic, and rituals. This man led Hitler through an exploration of cosmic chronicle, which intertwined the past, present, and future of human destiny aided by peyote consumption.


In 1913 Hitler travelled to the Danube and stayed with a herbalist who prepared a potion of peyote for him. This marked his first transcendental experience into the insight of the mysteries of reincarnation and other supernatural beliefs. Although initially he was not psyched to undergo a process in which he might possibly lose control of himself, Hitler agreed to take the potion primarily because of his interest in discovering the meaning of his destiny within the historical process of his own body chemistry.

Of course it is ridiculous to believe that peyote could possibly be held accountable for the atrocities that would later occur under his power, anyhow it is interesting to think about how this out-of-body experience could have influenced Hitler's twisted views of race and government.

I recently visited two of the largest German Nazi concentration and extermination camps: Auschwitz and Birkenau. Located approximately one hour away from Krakow, Poland, in a town called Oświęcim, this network was dominated by the Third Reich during World War II, and designated as the place of the "final solution to the Jewish question in Europe". Nazi Germany's ultimate goal was to completely exterminate these unpure ethnities, or said in Otto Thierack's words (Minister of Justice of the Third Reich): "We must free the German nation of Poles, Russians, Jews and Gypsies".


Between 1940 and 1945, at least 1,300,000 people were deported to these camps. According to data obtained directly from Auschwitz: 1.100.000 were Jews, 150.000 were Poles, 23.000 were Roma (gypsies), 15.000 were Soviet war prisioners, and 25.000 belonged to other minority groups such as Jehova's Witnesses, homosexuals, etc. The SS exterminated the majority of these prisioners in gas chambers and over 1.100.000 were killed in Auschwitz.


Trains that carried these persons from all over Nazi-occupied Europe were led directly to the gas chambers. But first, men, women and children were separated. The two latter groups were usually sent to die immediately, while those considered to be strong and fit to work were exploited in other ways, and obviously most died later on from disease and/or starvation, forced labor, medical experiments, tortures, etc.

It is no mystery that most of these facts are widely known, and it is obvious that the Holocaust is and continues being a popular subject portrayed in cinema, books, and other creative demonstrations. However, the experience of actually seeing and stepping on the largest German Nazi extermination camps has changed me forever, I believe, moreover, provided me with a much direct insight of the maquiavelic manifestations that mankind is capable of inflicting on the Other (and continues doing so).

Some of the scenes that shocked me the most are the following...

1. 20 tons of hair belonging to women prisioners who were shaved completely (genitals included), and whose hair was primarily used to manufacture textiles and other products.
2. 80.000 pairs of shoes were found in Auschwitz previous to the Red Army's invasion (along with suitcases named and addressed, shoe polish and brushes, clothes, pots and pans, eyeglasses, etc.). Evidently, the Nazis were able to destroy most of the evidence of their sickly crimes and tortures, although not all of it.


3. Walls covered with the pictures of men and women who were deported to the extermination camps, together with the dates they arrived and the date they were killed. The longest time period I observed was 6 months.



4. Gas chambers disguised as mass showers. In order to avoid histeria and panic, prisioners were fooled into believing that they would be desinfected before entering the camp. The feeling of death permeates every wall here



5. Dozens of crematoriums

6. And electrified barb wire, which proved to be a common option for people who couldn't take the torture anymore and decided to end their own lives... that is, if the SS guards wouldn't catch them before running into the electricity and send them to standing-up or complete darkness cells in order to prolong their pain.
If you thought Auschwitz was hardcore, Birkenau was even more so! Prisioners here were placed in horse stables and this here, was the toilet designated for thousands of them. Malaria, dehydration, dhiarrhea, and countless other diseases made the queues endless. According to our guide, if someone was not able to make it to the "toilet" in time, the person would have to relieve him or herself in their feeding bowls.
And finally, these were the "beds" in Birkenau. Most often, 3 to 4 prisioners had to share each one.

Whether Hitler's sick and criminal ideas were influenced by his experimentation with hallucinogens such as peyote, mescalin or LSD, and subsequent psychosis (which would eventually lead to his self murder), continues to be debated.

In 1940, however, when LSD was "invented", a psychiatrist & scientist named Tayleur Stockings, who researched the effects of mescalin on schzophrenic patients concluded something extremely interesting:

"Mescaline intoxication is indeed a true "schizophrenia" if we use the word in its literal sense of "split mind", for the characteristic effect of mescaline is a molecular fragmentation of the entire personality, exactly similar to that found in schizophrenic patients... Thus the subject of the mescaline psychosis may believe that he has become transformed into some great personage, such as a god or a legendary character, or a being from another world".
Leaves you thinking...

Communist Remains

It took me a while to think about a title for this blog entry. My new roommate, Gosia, suggested "Smells of Communism". Then I thought about writing in Spanish, so I brainstormed another bit. Anyhow, finally I just came to the conclusion that if my main interest is to portray the remaining communist influence in present-day Poland according to my experiences during the past week or so, I should keep the title simple and to the grain. Moreover, exclude prejudices, biased notions, or in between the line meanings, in order to focus on a mere account of my experience on Polish ground.

My impression so far??? Communism is still felt all over!

Although Nazi occupation officially ended in 1945 and according to some sources, in modern day (post-1989) Poland communists have a minimal impact on political and economical life, the truth is that many aspects of Polish society still conform to communist ways of life. As I mentioned before, I have only been here for merely a week, therefore it is not my intention to create false stereotypes or reach conclusions based on partial evidence. I will focus solely on a couple of examples where I consider communism to still be strongly felt in this country.

Nowa Huta is the first.


During a recent visit to Krakow with my friend Kasia, we visited this quarter developed in the 1950's as a modern industrial town autonomous of Krakow, and a symbol for the birthplace of a new socialist society planned by the Communist Party leaders. Basically, Nowa Huta, which means New Steelwork, was a residential and self-sufficient complex designed for over 30,000 steel workers originally from Polish villages to settle and raise the local steel production. From its founding Nowa Huta was controversial. The erection of a church here was opposed by communist authorities resulting in riots and threats. Its architecture is also of communist-orientation. My friend Kasia showed me how it is possible to observe what your neighbors are doing from every corner as to alert the authorities if any suspicious activity was being held. Also, conforming to communist practice, all buildings were constructed in the same manner. Same color, same height, and the apartments were also furnished in the same way. The avenues were made wide, trees were planted, stores and services were created... All with the intention of founding a self-sufficient communist paradise on earth.



I was interested in visiting Nowa Huta mainly because Kapuscinski wrote about this 1950's Communist symbol and one of his chronicles actually awarded him an important prize. During our visit there we were able to interview a guy called Pawel, who is born and breed a nowahutian and needless to say, extremely proud of his heritage, which he considers to be very different from the rest of Krakow. He owns a bar in the Nowa Huta Cultural Center.

This excentric cave-looking hole in the wall where Solidarnósc pictures, red stars and antique radios cover the walls. Definetely a one of a kind experience to sip on earl grey tea while listening to Pawel talking about his family´s memories settling in this complex.


It is pretty obvious that communist influence is evident in places like Nowa Huta, although it is also capable of being observed and sensed on a daily basis. Maybe not as evident as before, although definetely still present. The train system for instance is another way of portraying these remains. Travelling as a second class passenger on a Polish train is definetely an experience, sometimes even a nightmare! No seats are guaranteed, therefore on many occasions you must run to ensure you will be spending your trip in a place other than the corridor or a tiny spot next to the toilet. Most trains date back to Communist times and are therefore slow and ancient... although on the bright side, cheap and punctual.

Hospitals are my next example. Today, my sixth day of non-stop coughing, fever, and head cold symptoms forced me to visit a doctor. My roommate Gosia helped me to call a taxi and soon enough I found myself in a waiting room inside a Polish Szpitala (hospital). Well, actually two, because the first one was unable to help me out. Total communist remains once again! No signs of private medical insurance or private hospital rooms. Everything seemed to be shared and equal for all.

After testing my poor Polish skills, I was finally told I had to wait an hour for an English speaking doctor and decided to lay down on a bench. A nurse signaled me to a room with two humble-looking beds where I was able to properly lay down (although according to sources, beds are usually scarce). She brought me a comforter, tucked me in, took my temperature, and soon enough, a Nazi looking doctor, who was actually really nice, came to my aid. He examined me, asked me for my medical card, student card, international insurance, and since I had none, I think they pitied me, and luckily enough I was able to leave with a diagnose of bronchitis (not so lucky) and best of all, a ZERO FEE! Pointless it is to say that this scenario would most likely never happen in Puerto Rico or the US. Do I sense communist remains?

Finally, the BAR MLECZNY (or milk bar) is my last example. These luxury-less cafeterias with bare walls and simple tables used to once upon a communist time serve cheap home cooked dinners for the public. Now they are still great options for students or any person who enjoys eating well and is probably on a budget. Pierogi (Polish dumplings) and a berry yogurt drink was my choice! No English is spoken here anyhow, therefore without the help of a local they are definetely hard to find. Most meals will most likely leave your tummy full and satisfied for several hours!

DEKALOG

En 1989, Krzysztof Kieślowski, un reconocido director de cine polaco, co-dirigió y produjo una de sus obras cumbres: una serie televisiva de diez dramas, cada una basada en uno de los diez mandamientos de la iglesia católica y desarrollados en la moderna Varsovia que intenta sobrevivir las ruinas del comunismo. Dekalog fue considerada una obra maestra por muchos críticos porque desarrolla tramas ambiguas y contradictorias sobre temas polémicos que hasta cierto punto retan la autoridad y el poder político de la iglesia católica y ponen en evidencia la dureza del diario vivir polaco.

Rascacielos grises varsovianos de arquitectura comunista figuran como el punto de desarrollo principal de cada una de las historias. Los personajes que aparecen en la miniserie se enfrentan a la toma de decisiones complicadas y luchan con sus consciencias para salir a flote. Temas como el incesto, el adulterio, el aborto, la muerte, el homicidio, el holocausto y la mafia juegan un papel importante en la difusión simbólica de las ideologías que caracterizan al productor. Sin embargo, en cada uno de los filmes, en lugar de intentar disuadir o influenciar la postura de la audiencia, Kieślowski no llega a ninguna conclusión, sino que simplemente plantea una situación complicada e invita a la reflexión.

Aunque las historias son independientes, el conjunto se enriquece con algunas claves en apariencia casuales. Muchos de los actores que aparecen en la serie, por ejemplo, también fueron utilizados en otras películas de Kieślowski. La simbología de estos filmes es evidente y sigue la corriente de una técnica multi-focal empleada a menudo por este director. En cada una de las pelis, por ejemplo, aparece un personaje místico sin-nombre y hasta cierto punto, sobrenatural, interpretado por Artur Barciś, que observa el comportamiento y las acciones de los protagonistas principales en momentos claves, pero nunca interviene, así como una especie de narrador omnipresente.
Otro de los símbolos que comparten los filmes de esta serie, además de la interpretación casi mística de cada uno de los mandamientos, es la aparición de la leche. A menudo el lente captura al lechero haciendo sus entregas mañaneras en botellas de vidrio por todo el complejo de vivienda o muchos de los personajes tomando y preparando la bebida.

La serie es brutal. La recomiendo sin restricciones.

A Potpourri of International Films Worth Watching

MADEINUSA (Peru, 2006)

Is a Spanish and Peruvian production directed by Claudia Llosa. The film takes place in an imaginary village in the middle of the Peruvian mountains called Manayaycuna, a word which means “the town where no one can enter” in Quechua. A young guy from Lima arrives unwillingly to the town during Holy Week, amid a festivity where a strange tradition is followed during that precise weekend. The locals believe that since God is dead and therefore cannot see, nothing is considered a sin. Madeinusa (beautiful Magaly Solier) is the main character, a local Quechua girl who is forced to deal with her father’s incestuous desires with her sister and herself- wishes to be taken to Lima, where her mother lives. A series of events develop where it is possible to observe one of the main themes: traditional village life and its many contradictions regarding religion, sex, and encountering the Other. Cinematography rocks and so does the script!


THE DAUGHTER OF KELTOUM (Algeria, 2001)

Mehdi Charef is the director of this Algerian film that portrays the story of Rallia, a beautiful girl, originally from a village in the Maghreb, but raised by an adoptive family in Geneva, Switzerland- who has decided to search for her mother who abandoned her when she was a baby. Holding on to this hope she returns to her traditional northern African village to find her grandfather and her lunatic aunt, although not her mother, who is supposedly working as a cleaner in a luxury hotel in another town. Rallia immerses herself in village life and eventually decides to venture to the city to find her mother.
The movie holds a central theme that goes beyond a daughter’s search for her mother. It strongly criticizes gender roles in northern African Islamic villages and portrays a bipartisan view of western versus eastern gender and cultural values and appreciations. Plus, in the end you will be surprised... Check it out!

The Sea Urchin (France, 2009)

In this film directed by Mona Achache, the general themes portrayed are the pathological compulsion for accumulating wealth, objects, and money versus the loneliness and extreme depression experimented by many people living in a large city as is Paris. The Sea Urchin is a great story involving Paloma, a pseudo-genius girl who lives with her parents and sister in a luxurious Parisian building and is incredibly depressed despite her young age. She insists she will commit suicide before her 11th birthday and therefore decides to document all the movements and conversations of the people around her in an effort to prove that everybody is incredibly depressed, neurotic, and unsatisfied in their lives. The film also portrays another relationship that develops between the building’s concierge, another neurotic and extremely lonely woman and a very wealthy Japanese man who ends up falling for her and teaching her to love again. Great storyline! Totally worth watching!