• Esnob. En el siglo XVII, la universidad de Cambridge decidió admitir a algunos plebeyos becándolos y para distinguirlos del resto de alumnos anotaban en la matrícula la expresión "sine nobilitas" (sin nobleza, en latín). Con el tiempo el término se abrevió.

• Eslogan. Este anglicismo proviene del gaélico, siendo su forma original " slaugh claim" (grito de combate), utilizado por los viejos clanes escoceses.

• S.O.S. En 1912 (tres meses después del hundimiento del Titanic), las letras "SOS" fueron instituidas como la llamada internacional de auxilio. La Organización Marítima Internacional precisó que las letras no son abreviatura de la frase "Save Our Souls" (Salvad nuestras almas) ni tienen otro significado especial. Los "tres puntos-tres rayas-tres puntos" (• • • - - - • • •) "son fáciles de recordar y de transmitir en código Morse en el cual S=". . ." y O="- - -". 

• Sandwich. John Montagu (1718-1792), cuarto conde de Sandwich (Inglaterra), era un jugador empedernido. Un día, estaba tan metido en el juego que le pidió a su sirviente le trajera "cualquier cosa para comer en el lugar". Al rato, el criado se presentó con una bandeja de alimentos. El conde, sin abandonar su puesto, cortó unas rodajas de "roast beef", las colocó entre rebanadas de pan, y comió el emparedado sin interrumpir el juego. Tan orgulloso se sentía lord Sandwich de su creación que no dudó en mencionarla en su testamento, como el mejor legado que dejaba a su país.

• OK. Durante la guerra civil en Estados Unidos, cuando regresaban las tropas a sus cuarteles sin tener ninguna baja, ponían en una gran pizarra " 0 Killed" (cero muertos). De ahí proviene la expresión 'O.K.' para decir que todo esta bien. Su expresión con el dedo pulgar en alza proviene de los circos romanos, donde el emperador perdonaba, con este gesto, la vida al gladiador derrotado.

 • Gringo. Hay varias versiones. Una de ellas dice que en la guerra entre Méjico y Estados Unidos en 1847, los norteamericanos vestían uniforme verde y los mexicanos les gritaban "green go home".

• Arroba @. En la Edad Media se usaba como una abreviatura de la preposición "ad" (en). En los primeros sistemas de correo electrónico @ se utilizó por varios motivos: porque era un signo muy reconocible, porque ya se usaba en la informática y porque estaba en los conjuntos básicos de caracteres.

• Alarma. Durante la presencia musulmana de la Edad Media en la península ibérica, las armas se situaban en el centro de los complejos amurallados a la espera de los ataques de los enemigos. Con la expresión “al arma” el vigía avisaba de los inminentes ataques.

• Pepe. En los conventos, durante la lectura de las Sagradas Escrituras al referirse a San Jose, decian siempre 'Pater Putatibus' y por simplificar 'P.P.'. Así nació el llamar 'Pepe' a los 'José'.

• Popurrí. Galicismo (pot pourri – olla podrida) que procede de un guiso español de la Edad Media que tenía gran variedad de ingredientes. De ahí que se lo llamara olla podrida porque sólo los acaudalados podían permitírsela.

•  Cacique. Esta palabra deriva de “cakchiqueles”, los jefes políticos de las tribus centroamericanas taínas, que significaba: "el señor responsable o autoridad de los hombres".

 Algunas expresiones que usamos frecuentemente también tienen una historia curiosa:

• Mostrar los dedos en señal de victoria. En la batalla de Angincourt en 1415, los franceses propusieron cortarle el dedo corazón a los prisioneros de guerra, ya que sin ese dedo no podrían disparar jamás sus arcos. Sin embargo, los ingleses ganaron la batalla y les mostraron el dedo corazón en señan de desafio. Otras versiones indican que mostraban los dedos índice y corazón (V), como muestra de la victoria.

• Poner los cuernos como acepción de infidelidad tiene su origen en los vikingos. Sus jefes podían escoger entre todas las mujeres jóvenes de su territorio a la que estimaran más convenientes para contraer matrimonio o simplemente como amante, si éstas estaban casadas. Cuando el jefe hacía efectivo este derecho, en la puerta de la joven se colocaba una enorme cornamenta de alce, naciendo la famosa frase: “Te pusieron los cuernos” o “eres un cornudo”.

• Hacer la cama. En las noches, los ciudadanos del Imperio Romano construían sus camas rellenando con paja un saco de tela. La paja debía ser vaciada cada noche para secarse. Por eso, las camas tenían que volverse a hacer cada noche. Esta práctica continuó hasta el siglo XV, y en algunos países todavía más tarde. De ahí proviene la expresión "hacer la cama".

• Poner los puntos sobre las íes. Cuando en el siglo XVI se adoptaron los caracteres góticos era fácil que dos íes se confundieran con una "u". Para evitarlo se colocaban unos acentos sobre ellas, que con el tiempo se convirtieron en los puntos de la i latina actual.

Review time! Hurray!

So I've been putting pictures up on the right there about what I'm reading at the mo, and you'll notice (if you read this in time) that I've been stuck on The Old Gringo by Carlos Fuentes for a few weeks now. It's not an easy book to read in short bursts on the tube into work - this much is clear to me. Little else is from the novel however...

I have the basic plot trajectory, this I understand. But the way Fuentes lilts in and out of reality, past, present, future, the way the emphases shift and the narrators change with no warning or explanation... it's all quite vivid yet utterly bewildering. The plot is almost secondary to Fuentes' bold vistas and panoramas of Mexico, and the attempts to capture the wild and changing thoughts of the protagonists. And yet... maybe I didn't sit reading it in long enough swathes, because it all seemed just a touch unnecessary; a nice idea, to introduce the dream-like state of affairs, and at times I could feel it working - the idea of travelling in a comandeered train across an enormous desert lends itself to a slightly spaced-out feel anyway - but for me, the narrative didn't flow enough for me to get any perspective on the whole shebang, or even connect with the characters.

That was a little frustrating. I liked Ambrose Bierce, but I was disappointed that I never had any chance to really connect with him.

Ah well, this is the way it goes. Looks like next in my book bag is... Lullaby, by Chuck Palahniuk.

Listen to this while reading this post.

This post is dedicated to my stepmom, who has accused me of hating women in a recent email.  She is a regular reader of this blog and particularly pissed that I took Simon to a brothel, which she specifically asked me to not do.  So I am inspired to put her idea (that I hate women) to rest with this post.  While I may seem like a philandering dickhead in this blog, the truth is that I am more of a hapless romantic than a player.  I love women.  I don't love all of them, but I tend to adore the ones who are the very feminine opposites of me - those who have none of the testosterone-fueled insecurities that are abundant in your favorite gringo dumb shit.  (By the way, I still think Anne-Marie is a pure, sweet, precious specimen of a girl).

I am not only writing this to pacify my stepmom but also because I have realized that I am not being true to my dear reader (you).  I am constantly preaching to people that if you want to create interesting material - whether it be writing, music, photography, painting, or anything ART - you have to bare your soul.  You have to share with the world.  You have to expose yourself and your sickest, most deplorable instincts and embarrassing thoughts.  While I preach and believe this, I have held back from this blog about the woman who I want more than any other woman I know right now.  My reason, justifiable as any from people who don't want to advertise their lives online, was that I didn't want anyone to learn of my crush (especially my crush or anybody else who works with us).  I'm confident no Peruvians know of this blog so it's time to keep it real.

I have wanted Carla since my first month here in Arequipa.  She wanted me too (obviously) but it was my first month and I was reluctant.  Plus, we work together and sit fifteen feet (five meters) apart.  Bad idea. I would also say that my friend Carlos (Jamaican Carlos in the States) predicted that I would fall in love down here and I may have not pursued Carla in an attempt to prove Carlos wrong by not falling in love with the first Latina I had chemistry with.  Unfortunately, my heart still burns for her.  I tried to tell myself that I just wanted to be 'friends' with Carla (before moving here, I identified the problem that I didn't have any female friends who I don't date, make out with, or have sex with, resulting in us not being friends anymore).  Unfortunately for my attempt to convince myself of the 'friends' angle, I caught myself being very jealous one day when Carlos was antagonizing her at her desk.  I wanted to tell him to stay the fuck away from her and to not touch her.  I also caught myself looking at her cute little butt every time she walked past my desk.  I usually don't like skinny girls, but Carla's butt is shaped like a perfect little apple, tapering several inches from her skinny little waist.  Carla is the Chief of Marketing and technically the boss of my office (excluding me).  While my coworkers technically report to her, she doesn't act like a boss or wield managerial power.  She is a cool chick every day of the week.  She is beautiful, but beauty alone doesn't do it for me.  She is constantly joking and actually amuses me, contrary to the vast majority of women who aren't funny at all.  Right now I can see Carla's face in a dumb-looking expression, examining something or thinking about an issue with somebody.  Then she sees humor in it, makes a joke, and in the blink of an eye that expression turns to an ear-to-ear grin with joy all over her gorgeous face.  Precious.  She is from the small beach town of Ilo and both of her parents are doctors.  As I have implied, Carla wanted me badly when I first arrived.  I remember all the evidence distinctly because I still dwell on these incidents when I think about how fine she is.  Read all about it:

I got to know Carla when I first got to Peru.  She, David and I would go to the fulbito games every Saturday to cheer on the company teams.  One time I jumped up at an intermission to play around with a ball.  She jumped up in hot pursuit and David came too.  After juking her out and passing her with the ball, I turned around to see her, head tilted with an ear-to-ear grin at me.  That is the image I usually think about when I think about how bad I want her.

My first week on the job, I didn't even notice her.  She is beautiful, but beautiful girls are nothing new for me.  At the end of my first week, she and I attended a press conference for something our company was sponsoring.  I had a blast with her.  It seemed like we were laughing the whole time.  After that first conference, I started to think that she and I should be good friends.  Soon later, in preparation for the upcoming APEC conference in Peru, there were a slew of seminars at the Chamber of Commerce to prepare.  One of them was terribly boring, but she and I passed the time writing funny notes back and forth to each other in her notebook.  It was straight out of high school.

One time at the fulbito games she pulled her ankle in front of her face to show me how flexible she is.  The first stupid thing I blurted out was whether or not she could put her feet behind her head.  "Claro," she replied.  For sure.  (Sidenote: ladies, if you tell a man that you can put both feet behind your head, you know exactly what he is thinking about and don't even try to act like you didn't mean to say it.)

Another time we were heading home in a taxi with David.  David ordered the driver to stop at a store so he could get a cigarette.  I stared past at David, wondering if I should go in with him for food as I hadn't eaten in several hours.  Carla thought I was staring off into space and asked if I was having a daydream.  Then she excitedly said, 'Oh, am I your dream?' with a hopeful tone.

There were over a dozen instances - all in my first month or so at the office - when she would laugh out loud at something I said.  Most of these were when I wasn't trying to be funny.  Sometimes she would just laugh and sometimes she would imitate my voice while repeating what I said before laughing out loud.  It almost made me uncomfortable, being so new to the company.

My Spanish proficiency has surpassed her English, but for my first few weeks it was about equal and we would communicate in English sometimes.  She was one of my first teachers of salsa.  We didn't dance together too much, but her firm instruction in the form of a shrill yell helped plenty: "YOU HAVE TO MOVE YOUR HIPS!"  (YOU HAF TO MOOB JOURD HEEPS!)  One time she spanked me and I enjoyed it.

One of those same nights at the bars with coworkers, I ran into Charo and Jenny downtown.  I had just met Charo once before but could tell she was attracted to me.  I was chatting them up for a few minutes.  Carolina, one of the coworkers in our group, saw me.  A few minutes later, Carla came up, grabbed my wrist and led me back to our table.  This was a constant controversy with Charo whenever my coworkers came up in conversation during our eventual relationship.  I always played down any comraderie with coworkers and never mentioned Carla.

Another time that same night, Carolina and Carla were talking about me at the table and Carla, talking to Carolina, pointed right at me and said "HOT!"  (HOAT!)

After a few weeks of telling myself I just wanted to be friends, or making stupid, half-ass attempts to impress her around the office, or otherwise not effectively pursuing her, I decided one Thursday night that I would make my play because I couldn't take it anymore.  Friday was a holiday and we were all going out together.  I showered and shaved extra well, put on a super nice shirt, and maybe did a few sets of push-ups and situps before leaving the house.  I got to the bar first, then David and Carolina arrived.  David told me Carla would be arriving later with an amigo - a male friend.  My heart kind of sank.  She arrived with some dude - I forgot his name.  He was OK enough of a guy, definitely not as cool as me but still cool.  They seemed like just friends, but I got the impression that he wanted more from the relationship than friendship.  I got wasted.

I woke up the next day with that burning heart, that feeling when your opportunity has been lost.  The alcohol swimming in my dizzy head didn't help me think rationally, but I decided that I wouldn't wait or take it slow anymore for Carla and find a different one instead.  That night, I made out with some random in a bar and the next night I had my first date with Charo.  Things got off the ground immediately with Charo.  I did care for her, but not like Carla.  I wouldn't think about Carla while I was with Charo, but as soon as she left my apartment, my mind would return to Carla, her killer personality, and the little apple butt on that slim body.  I didn't tell anybody in the office about Charo for at least a month after starting to date her because I didn't want Carla to find out.

In the time that I was starting to date Charo while not telling anybody at work (besides Carlos), Carla noticeably changed her strategy from ostensibly showing she was interested to deliberately antagonizing me whenever possible.  I don't remember so many of these incidents in detail, but I do remember that she started a campaign of poking fun at me or trying to start little play-arguments.  This was extremely frustrating for me.  When a woman antagonizes you like so and you are a nice guy who doesn't like to be an asshole or hurt their feelings, there is only one thing you want to do to them to get even.  I don't have to spell it out.

I was busy with Charo at this point however.  Then, the coworkers found out about Charo around the same time I found out about Carla's boyfriend in Argentina.  One Saturday night the coworkers called me several times and I ignored all the calls because I was literally in bed with Charo at the time.  After that, I decided it was time to let the cat out of the bag and abandon all hope for Carla.  To this day, I think I only found about Carla's boyfriend because I started to play basketball for San Jose.  One of my teammates, Daniel, is good friends with the guy (so she knew I was going to find out anyway).  In fact, Daniel lives in the neighborhood where we work and often gives me a ride to practice.  She dropped a 'my boyfriend' into conversation almost immediately after I joined the team.  Carlos - who doesn't know I want Carla - told me he met her boyfriend and that he is a huevon - a nerd.

One day in the office, it came out that Charo did my laundry and cleaned my room.  Almost with a note of anger in her voice, Carla proclaimed that she 'wouldn't do that!'  Everybody was laughing and calling Charo a brichera.  Carla was one of the main ones to champion the nickname "Cholita Brown" for Charo.  Another time in the office, Carolina was talking to the girls about Italian guys or Greek guys or something like that.  I wasn't paying attention.  But Carla's loud comment, which seemed to be directed at me, snapped me to attention, "Me gustan Latinos."  (I like Latino men.)

In the weeks and months after these revelations, Carla grew noticably cold toward me.  Like, not-even-wanting-to-be-friends cold.  This was quite disheartening for me.  I have unconsciously blocked most of this evidence from my mind, except one.  When Dennis was in town, I blew Charo off all weekend and we went to Tradi.  I saw Carla and gave her a hug.  I may have been hugging for a second too long, but not too much, and Carla pushed me away by my elbows.  Ouch!

The cold months lasted a while, but she is slowly starting to warm up again.  Smiling and joking and being the cute sweetheart she is.  I have no idea what is going on with her dude and their long distance, multi-national relationship via Skype.  Although I want her as much as ever, I don't have high hopes of us ever getting together.  First of all, there is obviously this supposed boyfriend in Argentina.  Second, we work together in the same office.  We are in the same room almost sixty hours per week.  When spending so much time on the computer, not flirting, it might be hard to flip a switch and start flirting outside the office.  If we didn't work together, maybe it could happen.  But if I don't work for this company, I don't see any reason to stay in Arequipa.  I wouldn't stay for a woman.  I don't think she'll leave the company, and if she does, she would probably leave Arequipa also, as she has told me she wants to live abroad someday.  Finally, there is my whole maturity problem.  I realize it has been two and a half years since Anne-Marie left me, but I have just not been ready for something like that again yet.  Love is not easy.  It's a pain in the ass.  I couldn't be a dog to Carla; I would be a good boyfriend like I was to Annie.  No whores, no randoms.  All the trust and passion and pain and hurt that comes with a relationship like that.  It's a son of a bitch.  I don't know how many times you can do it in a lifetime.  Three at the most?  I feel like I might be almost ready again, but I am not sure.  Never underestimate my immaturity and insecurity.

Don't worry about me.  I'm not sweating it too much.  I primarily wrote this to pacify my stepmom and prove that I don't hate women.

More proof that I am a hapless romantic below - love songs that inspire me.  I cherish this music and listened to these while writing this:

Usually reminds me of Annie, but can be applied to Carla when disregarding lyrics that imply a history together.

This one has brought me on the verge of tears several times while substituting "ANNIE" for "Charlene".

Instant classic.

Instant classic by one of the most attractive women to ever walk the planet.

This one is best when NOT WATCHING THE VIDEO.

Beautiful song, plus the video features two of the best living artists: Alicia Keys and Mos Def.

já tem quase um mês que eu cheguei.
:~~~~~

o engraçado é que eu sei que as minhas ações são completamente sem fundamento.

Stephane Rousson, 39 anos, levantou vôo da costa britânica às 8h hora local (4h no horário de Brasília) e às 13h (9h em Brasília) havia completado a metade do trajeto, de 55 km.
Durante a travessia, ele fica sentado embaixo do balão Zeppy e move as hélices com pedais como os de uma bicicleta.
Rousson havia tentado cruzar o Canal da Mancha em junho, mas após esperar duas semanas por condições climáticas favoráveis, desistiu da aventura.
Neste domingo, o porta-voz do piloto disse que "ter levantado vôo já foi uma vitória após conseguir as condições climáticas perfeitas".
Em entrevista à BBC, Rousson disse que a criação do balão foi inspirada no filme ET, de Steven Spielberg.
"Desde que era criança tinha vontade de voar", disse o piloto.

Inspirado no ET, sei...
Já vi esse história antes...

Só por garantia mandei um email falando bom dia e contando de um sonho (que aliás, é mentira. Sonhei porra nenhuma com ele) que tinha tido, só pra ver se a não resposta, ou a resposta, fazia cosquinha.

Haha, thanks for that, Alice! It sounds like a funny dream. I hate it when I forget!
Hope things are going well in the land of fun in the sun. =)

Acho que ele acordou sem sentir nada por lá também.

The end.

Estamos sós até em pensamento.

"Iya, oper sini ded, gw kosong nih". Kemudian, Dedi pun mengoper bolanya ke Ringo dan dengan tenang, Ringo menendang bola plastik itu dengan kencang. Lalu..Gooollll...!!!. Kemudian Ringo berlari dengan senangnya diikuti oleh teman-teman yg lainnya ke pinggir lapangan. Akhirnya tim BCFC pun memenangi pertandingan itu dengan skor 1-0 berkat gol tunggal Ringo di menit terakhir.

Yah, itulah salah satu permainan yang sering saya lakukan waktu masa kecil, bermain sepak bola plastik. Sebenarnya masih banyak permainan yang saya mainkan bersama teman-teman sepermainan waktu kecil dulu, yaitu:

1. Balon tiup



Permainan ini biasanya saya lakukan dengan cara meniup dahulu balon tiup ini yang sebelumnya dibeli di warung Imam, warung di daerah saya, dan kemudian setelah balon tersebut besar, maka balon itu saya tempelkan ke wajah saya hingga menutupi semua wajah yang lugu itu dengan balon tiup tersebut. Tapi biasanya bukan saja ke wajah sendiri, tapi terkadang saya suka menempelkan balon ini ke wajah teman saya secara iseng. Dulu harga balon tiup ini hanya Rp 50/biji dan biasanya ada hadiah setiap pembelian balon ini bagi yang beruntung.

2. Bermain sepeda



Ini salah satu permainan yang sampai sekarang masih saya mainkan. Biasanya saya dan teman-teman saya bersepeda bukan untuk balapan atau semacamnya tapi hanya untuk berjalan-jalan di sore hari. Biasaya saya sering memainkan ini selepas akan berbuka puasa di bulan Ramadhan dan itu saya lakukan dengan solo atau hanya sendirian saja tanpa anak-anak yang lain. Saya dari kecil memang sering bermain sepeda dan sendirian karena saya kadang suka malas bermain dengan teman-teman yang lain sebab saya biasanya bermain sepeda dengan ngebut sementara teman saya hanya slow-slow saja. Biasanya saya suka balapan dengan motor yang saya temui ketika bermain sepeda, dan ketika saya melewati motor itu, subhanallah...perasaan ini seakan senang sekali bagaikan menang di kompetisi balapan. Dan sampai sekarang pun saya juga masih suka bermain sepeda di kampus.

3. Tazos



Wah, inilah permainan yang paling saya rindukan hingga saat ini. Entah apakah sekarang ini masih ada atau tidak. Tazos ini biasaya saya dapatkan dari setiap pembelian ciki (saya lupa nama ciki-nya) atau beli dari teman yang punya banyak Tazos. Tazos ini bisa dimainkan dengan banyak cara. Sebenarnya Tazos ini dimainkan dengan satu Tazos lainnya dengan mengaitkan satu sama lain dan kemudian melemparkan ke udara atau di-geprak di lantai hingga salah satu Tazos berjalan. Akan tetapi, biasanya saya dan teman saya memainkannya dengan cara diteprok seperti bermain teprokan pada gambaran. Atau mungkin bisa sebagai alat pembayaran ketika bermain gambaran. Dulu saya punya banyak sekali Tazos dan sekarang saya tidak tahu dimana letak benda bersejarah itu. Mungkin terbawa banjir saat terjadi banjir 5 tahunan pada waktu dulu.

4. Yoyo



Ini permainan yang cukup asyik dimainkan. Biasaya saya membeli yoyo ini di SD dan dimainkan ketika di kelas dan pada saat guru tidak ada. Dulu di yoyo ini bisa dimodifikasikan dengan menambahkan salah satu alat kecil pada bagian yoyo yang membuat yoyo ini bisa mengeluarkan api ketika yoyo ini disentuh ke lantai keramik atau aspal. Meilhat yoyo yang mengeluarkan api, membuat saya dan teman-teman lainnya terkagum-kagum pada saat itu. Kereenn..!

5. Panggal



Ini merupakan permainan yang bisa dijadikan bentuk judi karena biasanya saya dengan teman saya bermain taruhan panggal. Bagaimana caranya? Caranya adalah dengan membuat sebuah lingkaran besar dan di tengahnya saya dan teman saya meletakkan panggalnya masing-masing yang ingin dijadikan taruhannya. Kemudian masing-masing dari kami memainkan panggal yang lainnya untuk mengeluarkan panggal yang di dalam dan jika ada beberapa panggal tersebut yang keluar, maka panggal itu menjadi milik dia. Ada salah satu teman saya yang jago sekali dalam bermain ini, namanya Yudi. Dia hebat sekali kalau bermain panggal. Perkiraannya selalu tepat. Saya dan teman-teman lainnya terkadang suka males jika bermain dengan dia, karena sudah pasti kami akan kalah dari dia.

6. Gundu (kelereng)



Entah ada berapa ratus atau lebih gundu yang saya miliki waktu kecil dahulu. Pernah saya memiliki beberapa botol aqua besar gundu hasil dari permainan ini. Biasanya saya jago dalam permainan tinju. Di permainan ini, saya dan musuh saya menggunkan keset sebagai ring-nya dan kemudian memencet gundu-gundu itu hingga keluar keset. Memang di sini saya agak merajai. Selain bermain tinju, beberapa jenis permainan dari gundu ini adalah kotakan, kejar-kejaran, tek-tok, rumahan, tebak-tebakan, dan sebagainya. Di antara banyak jenis permainan itu, kotakan-lah yang merupakan salah satu paling asyik untuk dimainkan. Selain bisa dimainkan oleh banyak orang, kotakan juga bisa cukup lama untuk dimainkan sehingga bermain kotakan cukup menegangkan untuk setiap sentilan.

7. Gambaran



Di antara banyaknya permainan yang saya mainkan saat masih kecil, bermain gambaran adalah permainan yang paling sering saya mainkan bersama teman-teman lainnya. Dulu pernah saya memiliki gambaran satu plastik besar dan kemudian saya jual ke teman-teman yang membutuhkan. Lumayan untuk menambahan uang jajan yang dulu hanya Rp 1000/hari. Bermain gambaran yang paling sering saya menang adalah bermain qiu-qiu. Entah apa karena saya memang berbakat dalam bermain kartu ini atau memang saya hanya hoki, tetapi yang pasti sekitar 80% dari setiap saya bermain pasti selalu menang. Biasanya di dalam permainan gambaran, kami memasang taruhan, tetapi bukan uang melainkan gambaran-gambaran pula. Makanya setiap saya ingin bermain gambaran, setidaknya saya harus memegang sedikinya 20 kartu gambaran untuk modal awal dan ketika pulang ke rumah, saya memegang sekantong kecil gambaran hasil bermain bersama teman-teman. Selain qiu-qiu, ada juga permainan tepokan, potong roti, dan masih banyak lagi. Biasanya kami bermain di salah satu halaman rumah teman kami pada sore hari. Ketika kami bermain, di sana sudah seperti Las Vegas Mini dimana hampir di setiap tempat ada orang yang bermain gambaran dan saling taruhan. Dan jika gambaran kita habis, biasanya kita membeli gambaran orang lain dengan uang lalu kembali bermain hingga setidaknya balik modal. Dan biasanya ketika kita bermain, ada orang yang bermain curang, termasuk saya.Biasanya pada setiap halaman depan gambaran berisi dari gambar-gambar dari setiap film yang lagi terkenal saat itu, seperti gambar film Yoko, Ksatria Baja Hitam, Dragon Ball, Power Rangers, Jiban, dan lain-lain. Sedangkan di halaman belakangnya biasa bergambar rambu-rambu lalu lintas seperti yang terlihat pada gambar di atas.

At first you try to remain high-minded, constantly reminding yourself that those who call you gringo, nigger, gook don't know you and thus are powerless to judge you. But eventually you realize that the implication of this belief is that you must be so different from the rest of your kind as to be above judgment. "Oh, not I," says you, "I too hate gringos too." But is this any excuse? And are you really that different?

We all like to think we've been misrepresented by the rest of our race, that the stereotypes people have for us are never true of us. But a stereotype exists not because every example proves it, but rather because there aren't enough counterexamples to disprove it. One of the stereotypes I fail to disprove is that of the aloof gringo. Someone from Guatemala would be correct to assume that I will most likely ignore them if I meet them on the street. This is because of a stereotype I have for Guatemalans, namely that when they try to get your attention it is because they want something from you. This stems from a stereotype they have that, as a gringo I have lots of disposable income which I have come to Guatemala with the intention of spending.

I suppose I should want to crusade against the stereotypes and put an end to such negative interactions. But it's evident that plenty of people here would much rather see me go home.

OK….OK….OK!!

What comes first comes always comes first.

First of all Americans do know that latin people call them “Gringos”. And I was wondering:

Do Americans like to be called like that? . Do they find it funny, offensive or simply they don’t really mind?

What exactly is a “Gringo”? Easy to answer:

Europeans who came to the states 250 years ago or so.

“Gringos” can come and go to Latin American countries whenever they want whenever they feel like. And the good thing is that they never get rejected to come. Awesome!!

I was asking myself the other day :

Do Americans have fun while they come to Latin America? (What a question I drop here! Don’t ya think?).

Well, just ask the American Foreign Exchange Students who spent a whole year attending Latin American high schools. I’ll make a whole post about them. I bet you have no idea what they do in here !! (Coming Soon!!)

American tourists just love to have some “ VIDA LOCA” in latin American countries but what exactly is what they do in here besides looking for some Mary Jane ( marihuana ) and beer which are the “Top 10 reasons they enjoy visiting the spanish paradise” As they call it.

Guess what!! I’ll post this top 10 reasons too . (Coming Soon!!).

Well when Americans come to our countries they are really, really, really well respected and also nice treated. We know they don’t speak Spanish that’s why we help them. We know they come from a different culture that’s why we teach them and help them. We know they look and seemed to be lost, and that is why we help them to get in the right direction.

How many times have you notice the word “HELP” in the last paragraph?

We just love having them in our countries, We love sharing with them. We enjoy making them see how we live and what we eat .

We make them feel like they really are at home since their very first step in the Spanish ground. And we also teach them how to dance.

But What about us?

Americans do know how Americans treat Latin Americans. (I’ll make a whole post of this too).

The thing is, they can come but we can’t go. We received them with a big smile and they welcome us to America with bullet in our bodies.

Now, I’m asking myself :

Is this fear?

Talking about America. I’ll make a whole post about “HOW THE WEST WAS WON!!” the real version not the lie that Americans have been told and taught in high school.

Hard feelings?

Not really.

I would call it: HURT.

Yes. it really hurts when you give love and you receive hate.

And I also find it Hippocratic.

Yap, Hippocratic.

Some guy said: GOD BLESS AMERICA.

I would like to talk about Americans going to church every Sunday. But I’m gonna skip this one because there’s really good American people at churches and they really have to be respected. But there’s always rain in the summer season.

And the whole post I’m “not” going to skip, is this one:

How the American Embassies like to deceive and take advantage of money on Latin Countries. And just to make it short:

How they just “love” to make fun of Latin Americans and get millionaire living out of us.

( Coming really soon, you bet I will !! ).

You know, sometimes “anger” can lead to “hate” and hate can lead to “revenge”.

It is really sad what happened on “SEPT 11th”, but the same awful day America live on that date, Middle East countries live it everyday. Guess who make them live in panic, scared, and mad?. You are right. Your answer is right.

Even children are born with anger and they want to take revenge because their daddies die in front of them, their mothers got deaf because of everyday bombs, they celebrate their brother’s birthday in the cementary and list goes on and on.

Poor children. They have to lose their childhood because of a really stupid never ending War.

Tell you what. Anger wants to grow in a Latin country: Venezuela

“YANKEES DE MIERDA” Vayanse pal carajo! (F….n Americans! Go F..k yourselves.). Chavez said in a speech in his very own style.

Why did he say such a speech?

This can be the answer:

"If anyone slaps on your cheek, show him your other cheek too"

Latin Americans have been slapped a thousand times both cheeks. And I believe we’re willing to take another thousand. Which makes me wonder :

Can anyone take too many slaps by another person and do nothing about it?

Why don’t Latin Americans give up and stop going to the USA?

Does Chavez want to change Latin’s American s love for hate to Americans?

(I’ll make a nice post about this. )

No Tacos, no burritos, no chili, no pizza, no spaghetti. And Guess What ?

NO HAMBURGERS, The recipe was brought to North America by the large numbers of people emigrating from Germany in the middle of the 19th century.

NO FRENCH FRIES, Belgian historian Jo Gerard recounts that potatoes were already fried in 1680 in the Spanish Netherlands.

NO FRIED CHICKEN, Fritters had already existed in Europe since medieval times, and fried chicken was known in Europe as pollo fritto in Italy.

NO ROAST BEEF, In Europe, the English are particularly associated with beef-eating, which is why the French call them les rosbifs (the roast beefs)

And the two really sad ones: “NO BEER”. And “NO WINE”.

Soooooooooo, ………Have you ever wonder what Americans would be eating if foreign people would have never come to the USA? Considering Americans were foreign people too.

So who are the …..really, ……really, …..really …..Americans??. The ones who have always been in this land called America by foreign people. The ones who deserved to be respected in their own land.

( A good post coming)

The truth is going to be said. ( Coming Soon).

]]> http://alvarotv.wordpress.com/?p=137 Fri, 19 Sep 2008 03:40:55 +0000 alvarotv http://alvarotv.es.wordpress.com/2008/09/19/sandinista-gringo-lovers/
Álvaro: Yo Zz, you left me thinking...
why didn't you and Eliet work out?
it seemed like you two really liked each other, she didn't seem to be bugged by being a sandi who likes gringos
and you probably didn't notice her man face
and then de repente "good friends"
me: Your crazy Elite is beautiful,intelligent , cool, thats why she's my friend
Álvaro: jajajaja
where were you?
Álvaro: you gotta admit she kind of looks like Omar
Álvaro: a good friend never advises you to steal from other people

Quiero terminar este ensayo hoy, y planeo hacerlo con el final del periodo de, en mi opinión, el mejor presidente que ha tenido la historia de nuestro país: Don Porfirio Díaz. Digo que es el mejor presidente por razones que serán explicadas más adelante. Curiosamente, mencionaré en esta última parte a los únicos dos presidentes oaxaqueños del país. Ah, y por cierto, mi día de la independencia no fue nada divertido. Es mas, me la pasé con muy pocos ánimos y dormí mucho, inclusive mientras escribo esto tengo bastante sueño, así que me apresuraré a terminar con este ensayo para poder dormir bien. Debo decir que si quieren recibir las actualizaciones del blog pueden suscribirse por medio del RSS. En fin. Sigamos.

En la parte 4 hablé sobre varias cosas. Francamente no lo recuerdo muy bien que digamos, aunque sé que es la parte más larga ya que contiene 2066 palabras en total. Veamos... abarqué desde el final de la independencia hasta la constitución de 1857. Por lo tanto tuve que haber mencionado las presidencias de Anastasio Bustamante, Guadalupe Victoria, Vicente Guerrero, Antonio López de Santa Anna; también me parece que mencioné la muerte de Morelos y la separación de Texas y de Guatemala. Luego seguramente hablé de las logias Escocesa y Yorkina y de como llegaron a ser los dos partidos políticos del México independiente. Ah, y también mencioné qué gacho mataron a Paco Stanley.

Uff... es un chingo, de veras. Ya qué.

Para comenzar de una vez por todas, situémonos en el año 1846. En este año se dio un hecho crítico en la historia de nuestro país: La Intervención Estadounidense. Este hecho fue crítico porque es la única ocasión en que la bandera gringa ha ondeado en la escuela militar, que en ese momento era el Castillo de Chapultepec. La guerra comenzó porque los gringos reclamaban una indemnización de los daños ocurridos en Texas después de la independencia texana. El gobierno mexicano, por supuesto, se rehusó a pagar, y que se vienen los gringos.

Voy a hablar únicamente de la guerra de Chapultepec, que se dio en 1847, el 13 de septiembre. Hubo otra batalla, la de monterrey. Hagan click aquí si quieren leer acerca de ella.

Fue en esta batalla que se da el episodio conocido como Niños Héroes. Estos escuincles eran Juan de la Barrera, Francisco Escutia, Francisco Márquez, Agustín Melgar, Fernando Montes de Oca y Vicente Suárez, y si asistieron al grito del presidente, habrán oido que cada vez que el pelón decía eso, los del ejército exclamaban "¡Murió por la patria!". Esto es porque cuando a los gringos se les ocurrió atacar, los chamacos que ya mencioné (cadetes en entrenamiento) estaban castigados. Y que se dejan caer los gringos y a los chamacos no les queda de otra más que defenderse, aunque estaban pero bien fruncidos de miedo.

Uno de ellos, Francisco Escutia (mejor conocido como Juan Escutia), se "avienta desde el techo del castillo para evitar que los gringos se llevaran la bandera". Eso es una leyenda, leyenda que nos enseñan a todos de chiquitos para que veamos lo increíble que es la historia mexicana. Lo que sucedió fue lo siguiente: Juan, mientras disparaba, se le acaban las balas. Se da cuenta de esto y, horrorizado, corre por su vida, pero en su apuro da un traspié y se enreda en la bandera que estaba en su camino. Desesperado por escapar, se zangolotea en la bandera como pescado y ésta se desprende. Escutia pierde el equilibrio y se bambolea por el borde hasta que cae tristemente y muere hecho puré en las rocas del fondo. Que en paz descanse. Aún así, me gusta creer la leyenda.

El caso es que todos los niños castigados mueren en el asalto gringo y éstos ponen su bandera. México pierdem por supuesto, la batalla. Ah, y México paga la indemnización. ¬_¬

En 1848 se anexa Texas a gringolandia por medio del tratado Guadalupe-Hidalgo.

En 1853 Santa Anna sube por onceava vez al poder. Se nombró el "Dictador de México" y gobernó con el sobrenombre de "Su Alteza Serenísima". El país estaba bien jodido, no tenía ni un peso y la corrupción estaba como hoy en día. Los liberales, amparados por el Plan de Ayutla, se rebelan y destierran a Santa Anna y colocan como su changuito presidente a Álvarez. El sucesor del changuito, un simio apellidado Comonfort, escribe las Leyes de Reforma, entre las cuales se encuentra la separación de la Iglesia del Estado. El simio era sabio. Pero como estaba en vigencia el Plan de Tacubaya (La Iglesia Manda), los conservadores desconocieron a don Comonfort e iniciaron la Guerra de Reforma, en el transcurso de la cual se promulgaron más leyes de reforma.

En 1858 el simio renuncia y entra a escena el "Benemérito de la Nación",  Benito Juárez. Benito Juárez nace en Oaxaca, en un pueblo que está en un cerro donde hace mucho frío que se llama Guelatao. Se supone que Benito Juárez deja de cuidar cabras porque tiene ganas de estudiar y se va caminando por el bosque hasta la ciudad de Oaxaca, donde entra a trabajar con los patrones de su hermana. Se enamora de la hija de los patrones, Margarita Maza y tras algo de tiempo se casan. No estoy seguro de que esta historia del "niño cuida cabras" que fue Juárez sea cierta. No estoy diciendo que sea mentira, tampoco.

En fin. Juárez comienza una carrera política importante y en 1858 asciende al trono presidencial. Él promulga la constitución de 1857 y con ello marca el fin de la guerra de Reforma. Se decreta la suspención de pagos de la deuda externa.

...

Esteee.... Francia decide presionar a México por la vía militar con ayuda de España e Inglaterra, pero como Juárez era un hombre de calzón grande logra negociar diplomáticamente con la marina Inglesa y Española para que desistan y se marchen. Los franceses, sin embargo, hacen berrinche y comienzan a atacar por el puerto de Veracruz, y comienza la Batalla de Puebla en mayo de 1862. La cosa es que gana Ignacio Zaragoza (de nuestro ejército). A pesar de eso, los franchutes ocupan la capital en 1863.

Mientras tanto, el 10 de Julio los conservadores nombran segundo emperador a Maximiliano de Habsburgo. Debo decir que este hombre era un pobre diablo al que convencen de venir a gobernar México. El pobre viene todo contento con su mujer Carlota y lo recibe el gobierno de Juárez. Maximiliano proponía un gobierno mejor que el que teníamos. A pesar de eso, Juárez lo ataca, lo caga y lo fusila en el cerro de las campanas, en Querétaro,  en 1867. Carlota finge demencia para que no la maten y la dejen regresar a su hogar, donde la mantienen encerrada el resto de sus días.

:(

Juárez muere de angina de pecho en 1872. Lerdo de Tejada ocupa su lugar en 1876. Entonces entra al poder Don Porfirio Díaz.

Porfirio Díaz es el segundo y último presidente Oaxaqueño que ha tenido la república. Y el mejor presidente, en mi opinión. Durante su presidencia el peso superó al dolar, eso significa que México estaba excelentemente en cuanto a economía. Las leyes de reforma favorecieron la concetración de tierras. Permitió la inversión extranjera y construyó el ferrocarril. Díaz gobierna por mucho tiempo. Y luego, un día, dice que es el momento de México para la democracia.

Se hacen elecciones y Francisco I. Madero va a ganar... y entonces Díaz lo encarcela. Esto es en 1910. Madero escapa de la cárcel (debo decir que Madero era un hombre raro que creía en la bondad de la gente. Por eso lo mataron) y entonces se forma un levantamiento contra Díaz. Díaz es exiliado y así termina la mejor época de nuestro país. Madero sube al trono presidencial y tras un rato el descontento da origen a la Revolución mexicana. Pero de eso hablaré en otro momento.

Gracias por darle una ojeada a este ensayo, que me tomó 5 días terminar. Me agradó escribirlo y siento mucho la increíble omisión de datos que hice en este último, pero ya es hora de ir a dormir. Buenas noches,

Ject.

Álvaro: If that bitch was any good she wouldn't be telling you to steal from me

Pues si Venezuela tiene un presidente que se le ha ido los tornillos y ahora vamos palo abajo, vean Chavistas esto es por el bien de Venezuela de uds. no del Presidente Hugo Chávez, a ese que uds. idolatran, poco a poco esta destruyendo a nuestro hermoso País.

I just wanted to fill you in on a weird happening i had in Lima.  As you may remember when we were in Deja Vu in Arequipa we were both dancing with those two gringo hunters (you had the smaller one with huge tits and a nice ass).  Anyway we left for the whorehouse so i made my excuses and left with you, Gav and Nicholas.  That was that.

The first night out in Lima i fucking run into them both towards the end of the night and we start talking (needless to say i was hammered).  I was chatting to the one i was dancing with and her friend with some guy i met in the hostel we were staying in.  Around 7 or so we all decide to leave except my friend from the hostel doesnt want to go so i end up leaving with both of them.  Man those gringo hunters...i like them!  You were right, it is fucking easy when youre around them and i didnt even have to buy her or her friend a drink.

We went back to their apartment and I went to the other ones room.we were fucking for a while (i had had a lot to drink and was finding it hard to finish off) when there was a knock at the door.  It was her friend with the huge tits and the nice ass.  She wanted to join us.  I didnt say no.  so i watched them fool around for a while until the friend started on me.  She managed to get the job done so all was good.  Great night.

My reply:

YOU ASSHOLE!!!  maybe should have stayed with those chicks that sunday night!!!  you lucky fuck, i hate you

I guess I'm glad Simon got a taste of immaculate.  The bad luck brought by the Irish heathens does apply to me and didn't stop at losing my girl, apartment, and phone.  It also rendered me very ill with the same problem as after Dennis was here - diarrhea.  It set in after lunch on Monday.  I called into work Tuesday and was generally unproductive the rest of the week.  For my whole life, I would see medicine for diarrhea and wonder 'why'?  You have diarrhea, it leaves, and life goes on.  I guess medicine exists for cases of diarrhea the likes of which I had never experienced before Peru.  This case can be characterized by 8 - 15 trips to the toilet in a day.  As annoying as this is, it is not the worst of the affliction.  The worst comes into play as, after wiping your butt so many times, it starts to hurt.  I was better prepared this time around (Sinescal para bebes) and Frutti Flex), but last time I was walking like a monkey on the second day.

The illness prevented me from playing in Wednesday's championship game against La Salle, but I did dress out and sit with the team.  Maryanne and Nicolas came to watch.  Ailene was there (I lost her number when Charo demanded her SIM card and the only way I thought we would find each other was if she came to this game).  For this game, the deciding third game of the three-game series, I estimated 700 - 800 people in the stands.  Before the game started, the La Salle superfan section (superfan sections located behind the baskets) dumped a ton of confetti onto the court.  I didn't mention it before, but their superfans dumped a moderate amount of confetti on the court during a regular season game in which I started.  As the refs were preparing for the jump, I asked one of them if they were going to clean up the confetti.  He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'What do you want me to do?'  This time there was a ton of confetti and La Salle was shooting on that end.  Their players slipped in it a few times, prompting the refs to send some gophers for brooms and sweep while play was on the other end.  Another especially tacky tactic of the La Salle superfans was in the second half while we were shooting on that end.  They threw spitballs and sometimes obviously visible pieces of trash at the player on the free throw line.  At a crucial shot in the fourth quarter, "Loco" had a visible piece of trash in his hair as he squared up for the shot.  Upon several complaints from our coach, the refs gave the same shrug they gave me - "What can you do?" 

La Salle went up by a few baskets early and held on for the first quarter.  In the second quarter, we came back and built a comfortable lead.  Our lead got as high as about fourteen and we led by ten going into the fourth quarter.  We were up by eight with some two minutes left.  La Salle hit two lucky three pointers in the last minute to close our lead to one, but with 1.33 seconds left.  We held on for the 1.33 seconds without giving up any baskets and our superfans rushed the court.  News anchors with television cameras interviewed our coach and best players.  There was mayhem for some minutes.  Then, all the superfans and players formed a big ring with arms on shoulders.  They sang some San Jose song.  I felt like the only gringo and non-San Jose alumni that didn't know the words.  The ring filled the whole court.  After the ten minute song, the youngsters and some players bum-rushed the center and started a mosh pit.  Still sick, I wanted no part.  I noticed that La Salle's superfans stuck around to watch our superfans celebrate.  All the other spectators had left, but it seemed part of the tradition that superfans wallow in their defeat by watching their arch-nemesis' celebration in its entirety.  The next day, Carlos - San Jose alumni himself - told me that this particular rivalry starts with some boys at the age of eight.  There was in fact, near our bench, a group of youngsters that age passionately cheering.

After the game, Ailene and I made plans to hang out Saturday around 4pm.  She rang the bell around ten til.  We hung out in my bed for a few hours.  You may remember that this girl washed all the dishes while the Irish and I drank.  After hanging out in bed, she did my laundry and cleaned my room.  While Charo made plans to do this and announced it before hand, Ailene sneaks it in.  I came out of the toilet (not diarrhea but still need to go often) to find her putting my clothes in the wash.  After coming back from a drink of water, I found her cleaning my room.  After finishing her chores, we went downtown and she treated me to pollo a la brasa (similar to rotisserie chicken, comes with fries).

Sunday I didn't feel sick anymore but still planned on taking it easy all day.  Around 1pm, the bell rang.  As always when I am not expecting anyone, I didn't answer it or stick my head out the window to see who it is.  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.  It was Ailene.  She got to work ironing my shirts.  While she did a good job, she worked very slow.  After two shirts, I took her to my room to give her her payment.  Afterwards, she told me she loves me.  She put a necklace on me, a necklace with a charm featuring the letter 'A'.  As I was putting her in a taxi, she told me not to take it off until the next time we see each other.  Back in the apartment, I immediately took it off.  Brichera done lost her mind.  I don't think this one is going to last long.

The guys got in Saturday morning.  I met them around noon and we ate ceviche.  The local AIESEC chapter was holding a global village at Plaza Vea for which I was going to cook Meat Loaf and 'dress American'.  I told the chapter to pay for the Irish to cook something and they could have an Irish table as well.  We were very late after ceviche.  I managed to cook meat loaf and they turned out an Irish stew in about forty five minutes (half of the time needed for each).  However, our dishes were quite popular and we ran out quickly.  Then they went back to their hostel to get ready for the evening.

I mentioned earlier that, besides Charo, I started dating two other girls.  It is hard to make time for them all with my busy schedule of work and basketball.  I had tentative plans to hang out with Ailene, but decided that I wanted to get wasted and chase other women with the Irish.  I was ignoring her calls all day.  I accidentally answered while the Irish were getting ready at their hostel.  She said she was downtown and that she is coming over to my apartment right now (dammit!).  I jumped in the shower and Nicolas let her in when she arrived.  After putting on gym shorts and a tee shirt, I found her doing the dishes.  I told her to stop and come sit with me on the couch, where we started to make out and feel each other up.  She was worried Nicolas would see us so I took her to my room and we had sex.  I correctly predicted last week that this one wouldn't take long.  It was basically our third date.  All three dates comprised us making out on my couch after she watched me play basketball.  She tried to put the brakes on things after I had each of our shirts off.  But I persisted with those things she likes so much and she succumbed to the pleasure - "Apaga la luz."

Ailene is not as beautiful as most of my girlfriends but she has big boobs on a slim body.  Plus she is very sexual.  And I actually like her personality.  She laughs a lot.  We laid in bed as she carressed me and lightly sucked away on my neck.  I heard the front door open and close.  I thought it was Maryanne and Nicolas coming back from dinner.  I quickly forgot about the noise and continued to enjoy Ailene's hand and mouth.  Not two minutes after the noise, I heard the doorbell, which would be the Irish.  I jumped up and put on my clothes.  Ailene casually started to get dressed.  I opened my door and, at the bottom of the stairs, saw Beto's parents who frequently come to the apartment unannounced with their own key.  They have only met Charo.  I turned around and told Ailene not to come out.  I went outside and downstairs while contemplating the risk in what was happening.  I met Simon and Gavin at the door and told them the story.

Beto's family is weird.  I like them all, but they are weird.  Months ago, after a night when his mom came over while I was cuddling with Charo, Beto told me that his mom doesn't approve of having girls in the bedrooms.  I didn't argue with him but decided that if he brings it up again that I would tell him I don't care.  If my mom doesn't give me rules, his weird mom is definitely not giving me rules.  I am a 29 year-old man and I pay rent.  I didn't join a bible study organization or take a job in an Islamic law country for a reason.  I didn't join the military or get sent to prison.  I am going to have girls in my bed.

So I took the Irish in the apartment and introduced them to Beto's dad in the kitchen.  Then I went upstairs to see how Ailene was doing in my room.  She was dressed and folding my dirty laundry.  She told me that Beto's mom saw her and seemed mad.  We hung out for a couple minutes and then made the walk of shame downstairs.  Beto's mom was at the ironing board in the master bedroom behind a window facing my room.  She told me she wanted to talk to me.  Ailene joined the Irish downstairs in the kitchen and I joined Beto's parents in Nicolas' room.  His mom told me she is angry with me.  She said this is not a 'hotel'.  She said I can't have 'various women' in my room.  She said she only wanted guests to be in the living room.  She said this is a 'house of respect'.  I nodded and nodded and thought to myself "I am moving out."  Luck of the Irish?

I have stated in this blog that Peruvian culture is more conservative.  Women don't move out until they're married and having sex in the family house is a bit taboo.  However, I am not their son and I pay rent for my room.  I don't want to get into the legal ramifications of a landlord frequently showing up unannounced with a key.  As it is in industrialized countries, this is very illegal here.  Ailene, who is a lawyer, confirmed this.  I don't plan to make any trouble or drama.  I am just going to get my own place where I can have as many female guests as are willing and time allows.

So I joined the Irish and Ailene downstairs as the parents left.  I didn't want to bring Ailene with me to Tradicion that night because I wanted to chase other women and get drunk with the Irish.  Plus, Arequipa is a small city and even smaller when you consider the bar scene where educated people with money go because there aren't that many educated people with money.  The only time I went to Tradi without Charo, a friend of hers called her to tell her I was there.  I always run into her friends and never recognize them.  So I told the Irish my plan to ditch Ailene when we were outside.  The plan was to start pounding beer and anisado and get obnoxiously drunk to the point where she wouldn't want to come out with us.  Or, she wouldn't want to come because we would be leaving so late and she might have to get home to her daughter.  That was the best idea I could come up with while all this stuff was going on.  The Irish agreed to go along with the plan.  We got a case of beer at the liquor store and I already had a bottle and a half of anisado.  Nicolas and Maryanne were at the apartment when we returned.  Then Roy came over.  I told them the plan and to not mention the word "Tradi" until Ailene left, even though we were speaking in English. 

Nicolas and Maryanne were taking it easy but the Irish and I started to get wasted according to plan.  Ailene washed the dishes.  Clive told her to stop and I told him to be quiet unless he was going to do the dishes.  I told everybody the story with the parents and that I was moving out.  Everybody laughed and sympathized with me.  Nicolas said he was moving out too.  It didn't occur to me at the time, but it makes obvious sense now.  He was justifiably pissed they went in his room.  They don't go in my room because the only things in there are Beto's and Jose Miguel's childhood toys, but much of their stuff is in the master bedroom.  If they did go into my room, they might see some embarrassing stuff: bloody condoms, balled up tissue encrusted with semen littered on the ground, various junk, stank sweat socks and gym clothes, general mess, etc.  There are serious privacy issues in this household and Nicolas is not a happy camper.

The Irish and I finished the case of beer and all the anisado.  We were drunk.  Unfortunately, Ailene was not deterred at all from going out with us.  My plan failed.  However, I was so pissy drunk after carrying out the plan that I didn't care about any potential consequences anymore.  The Irish, the roommates, Ailene, Roy and I left for Tradi around midnight.  We got wasted on the patio.  Within four steps of walking inside to the dance floor, I ran into Maria - Charo's best friend from high school who works at a restaurant a block from Charo's apartment.  Well, that was fast.  Luck of the Irish?  I wasn't doing anything with Ailene and I probably could have contained the damage, but I was so drunk I didn't recognize Maria when she greeted me.  I got her name wrong and mistook her for somebody else.  She had to tell me who she was.  I walked away without kissing her cheek and danced with Ailene, occasionally making out in the middle of the dance floor.  I was really drunk.  Later, I ran into Ailene's ex-husband and baby's father.  Luck of the Irish?  He actually greeted me because he must think gringos are cool.  But then he saw I was with Ailene and probably felt stupid.

Ailene went home around 3 while the rest of us went to a house party of AIESECers.  Clive picked up a Peruvian girl and made out with her in another room.  Nicolas and I left around 6, arriving at the apartment at 6:30am.  The Irish stayed at the party until around 8am.  Simon and Gavin told me that Clive threw up at the party, in the taxi, outside of their hostel, and in the toilet.  Then he went to sleep on the toilet for an hour or so before returning to his bed and throwing up there as well.

I woke up around 10am, too hung over and hurting to sleep.  I laid in bed until 11, when I heard the bell ring.  I smiled and assumed the Irish came over.  Nicolas knocked on my door and told me Charo was outside.  Luck of the Irish?  Charo has never come over unannounced.  I painfully limped downstairs, dreading the inevitable.  She told me she wanted her camera's memory card (Colca pics) and the money for two months of phone service which she paid for me.  We walked up to the apartment without saying anything.  I gave it all to her.  Nicolas and Maryanne had the misfortune of being in the kitchen.  Charo told me she knows about last night.  "Obviamente," I replied.  She told me she wanted the SIM card from my phone (her employee SIM).  Charo works for the biggest wireless service provider in Peru and set me up with a sweet employee deal.  I told her no.  She raised her voice.  I told her no.  She ran upstairs and locked herself in my room.  After realizing the phone wasn't in there, she let me in and closed the door.  She started yelling and calling me names: perro and pendejo.  I told her she couldn't have the SIM because I had family in town and they needed to call me.  She wouldn't leave without the card.  I wish I didn't have feelings.  Unfortunately, I am a nice guy with empathy and I started to feel bad for her and what I did.  I wish I were less caring.  I also wanted her to leave and was terribly hung over.  So I gave her the SIM and regretted it all day long.  That had all my phone numbers, including Ailene's and Silvia's.  Luck of the Irish?

After Charo left, I decided that I had to find the Irish before they woke up since they couldn't call me.  I did not know where their hostel was or the name of it.  All I knew was that it was on Avenida Lima, which I had no idea to its location and I have no map.  For about ten seconds on Saturday, I glanced at Simon's map that the hostel gave him so I had a general idea where it might be.  I walked around for over an hour before I found it.  I found the Irish still sleeping at around 1pm.  I told them the story.  They laughed.  I decided that, to celebrate my being single, I should have a prostitute that night.  Simon had read the Amanecer blog and was curious to see the place, but not interested in paying for sex.

Around 10pm, Simon, Gavin, Roy, Nicolas, Maryanne, this British guy from the hostel named Nick, and I started drinking Fernet and Coke at my apartment.  I love Fernet and, while Simon was in Argentina, I asked him to bring me some.  We got buzzed up at the apartment and headed for Deja Vu.  We all got a table upstairs and talked for an hour or so.  But there were so many hot bricheras downstairs that I had to go down there.  Two hot ones approached me and introduced themselves.  Some gringos joined me and we started to dance.  One of the bricheras was absolutely smoking hot.  Slim, hard body with a flat stomach and big boobs.  Her brown face was immaculately gorgeous.  Her skin was soft and silky.  A girl this beautiful would never talk to me in America, much less take a liking to me.  She rubbed my arms and actually felt me up under my shirt as well.  We danced for a few songs.  They lived in Lima and it was their last night in Arequipa.  Despite her being so hot, I decided that they probably just wanted to have fun dancing with us and would go back to their hostel without us at the end of the night.  I didn't want to invest too much time or effort chasing these two when I can definitely get laid at the whorehouse and still be in bed by 3am (I had to wake up the next day at 6:30am).  I told her we were leaving and she got mad - in a cute way.  I told her we had to work in the morning.  Nick, Roy, and Maryanne stayed at Deja Vu while Simon, Gavin, Nicolas and I headed to Amanecer.

Until now, I have steered clear of bricheras.  I am not turned on by a girl just looking to climb the social ladder.  The ones I have met seem too easy and slightly creepy.  But I am starting to have second thoughts.  This brichera was HOT.  I should enjoy something like that once or twice in my life.  I wouldn't be interested in marrying her.  I would never marry something so beautiful.  I will marry a beautiful one, but not a woman that is as sexy as God makes women.  It would be too much of a headache.  I can imagine all the problems that would come with her from constantly being chased by other men to having a spoiled mentality because men have always given them whatever they want.  However, now I think I might find something like that to enjoy for a few weeks or months.  As I said, immaculate.

When we got out of the taxi in front of Amanecer, I saw in front a security guard dressed in an all black uniform (like SWAT) with a black ski mask and a baton on his hip.  He was yelling and maybe pushing and hitting a group of degenerates, scoundrels, and losers who were hanging around and being ugly on the sidewalk.  When he saw me, he pulled down the part of the mask so I could see his face.  He looked just like Daddy Yankee.  "What's up, man?"  he said with a thick accent but good English.  He told me he lived in New Jersey for a while.  "Are you going to go fuck a bitch?"  I told him I probably was.  He approved and sent me upstairs.

We sat down at a table, ordered beers and looked around.  This was a first for the other guys.  One woman kept catching my eye.  I bought her a drink and she sat on my lap.  She was huge.  She must have weighed at least 150 lbs, maybe 160.  All boobs and butt.  Her boobs were just falling all over the place.  Her butt was big and firm.  Her whole body was firm with soft, smooth skin.  She had a brickhouse thick body useful for nothing else than extracting ejaculate, more boobs and butt than everything else combined.  I was excited for this one.  We got a room.  I was halfway ready to go when she started the oral.  I completely lost any erection I had for about ten minutes because her teeth hurt so much.  I told her that her teeth were hurting me.  In trying to get me aroused, she started talking dirty.  I want your cock in my pussy, I want you to come all over me, etc.  I found it pretty annoying.  I guess there are corny assholes who like that.  After a while I rose to the occasion and beat it up for ten minutes or so.  It wasn't very cool.  Her boobs and butt were absolutely huge; that was cool.  However, she was kind of boring and her dirty talk was obnoxious and unconvincing.

I rejoined the table.  Gavin bought a girl a drink and was joking and talking to her.  Simon could sense that I was ready for bed and asked me if I wanted to leave (I had to wake up at 6:30am).  And a conversation goes something like this:

Simon: Are you ready to go?
Me: Yeah, but I don't want to rush Gavin.
Simon: He can be ready.
Me: What if he wants to have sex with this one?
Simon: He doesn't.
Me: How do you know?  Did you ask him?
Simon: He's gay.
Me: Ohh.

Interesting, surprising end to the weekend.  We left.  Outside, the security guard was still yelling at the degenerates and basically running the sidewalk.  He saw me and pulled his mask down again.  "All these guys," he proclaimed, "suck my fucking dick!"  I told him I wanted a safe taxi.  He led us to the first taxi on the curb and we said goodbye to him.  Something about that guy makes me not want to fuck with him.  He definitely had the sidewalk of scum on lock.

I still can't believe how much my life has changed after the Irish and their bad luck came to town.  In less than two days, I lost my primary girlfriend, my phone and all the numbers, and my apartment.  But I guess it was fun in the process.

A proposta é que vocês dêem dicas de bares na capital baiana que:

1 – já ouviram falar;

2 – foram e gostariam de saber como está;

3 – recomendam;

Peço encarecidamente que não me enviem para zonas portuárias, meretrícios ou lugares que uma pessoa albina de quase 2 metros de altura e olhos claros seja confundida com gringo. Na última vez que fui para o Rio de Janeiro, eu só escutei “Dollar, sir” dos moleques, pedintes e o ascensorista do hotel só falava em inglês comigo. Isso que dá andar de terno em lugares que roupas diminutas imperam.

Obviamente, rola uma homenagem (leia-se: menção no post) às pessoas que mandarem bem.

I have two potential girlfriend replacements lined up.  However, I am second-guessing whether either one is worthy of replacing Charo.  I am attracted to each of them, but they aren't necessarily more beautiful than Charo.  You don't really replace someone unless it's an upgrade.  I was pretty drunk when I met each one of these girls and almost didn't remember what they looked like.  Like I said, they are attractive but not girlfriend material.

Ailene, the lawyer, came to watch my basketball game.  Ailene comes from a basketball family and later admitted that she wanted me after she heard I play for San Jose.  Her oldest brother played with my coach, who is well-known in Arequipa's basketball scene.  She and I went to this Irish pub with Nicolas - it was his first Friday night in Arequipa with nobody to go out with.  After she told me she had a three year-old daughter, Ailene and I made out a little on the cab ride home.  We met again Saturday after I had lunch with Charo.  We had a more extended makeout session on my couch.  I must have been really drunk when I met Ailene because I usually wouldn't pursue a girl who looks like her.  She isn't ugly, but not every guy would call her beautiful.  However, she laughs a lot and I like her personality.  She is also a great kisser with big lips.  Most important, she seems to be a girl who really enjoys pleasure.  I would assume all men do, but I love women that crave physical pleasure.  While doing different things to her, she would close her eyes and get completely lost in the moment, even moaning softly.  Under her eyelids, I can imagine her eyeballs rolling up in the back of her head.  This kind of girl can be completely controlled by soothing her body to the point where her better judgement fades away.  All women, with persistence, will eventually yield to what feels good.  But some women enjoy it so much they have absolutely no defense.  No matter what her rational mind decided before about how far we would go, she gives in to her intense desire, her need for that pleasure.  It is empowering to have a woman in the palm of my hand.  Orgasm is the ultimate satisfaction, but I also find it satisfying to bring a woman to orgasm.  It makes me feel like more of a man.  It took me a long time and practice, but I have gotten quite good at it.  Now, it's a great self-esteem booster.  We didn't have sex and I have yet to take her there, but I don't think it will be long after seeing how she was on that couch. 

After our makeout session we went for sandwiches downtown with Karen, Nicolas, and Jose Miguel.  Nicolas' welcoming party was later that night at our apartment.  While eating, Ailene's mom called to tell her that her daughter was coughing.  Ailene decided to go home to be with her daughter, which was actually good news for me.  I met Sylvia about two weeks prior and we had been playing phone tag ever since.  It was getting to that point where you stop calling each other.  Sylvia just finished her psychology degree at 22 years old.  She is currently looking for work anywhere in Peru.  So I invited Sylvia to the party and she showed up around 10pm.  We made out in the kitchen most of the night.  We joined the rest of the party to dance for a few songs, but promptly returned to the kitchen to make out.  Sylvia is slightly plump with huge boobs and a cute face.  She also has a huge tongue which almost engulfs mine.  She doesn't seem to be as much of a freak as Ailene, but she still feels nice.  She dances very sexy, which was why I met her.

Dating women is obviously easier here than in America.  I don't do bad and I always have beautiful girls, but I rarely juggle them at will like this.  Imagine that foreign kid in high school with the accent.  All the girls were interested in him.  That's me here.  Peruvian guys will call the girls "bricheras" and say they're only interested in the visa.  There are some like that, but it is definitely more than the papers.  The women, like many in America, are in their twenties and thinking about when they're going to get married and have children.  They don't have a boyfriend and start to worry when it will happen, and with who.  Then they meet this tall, handsome gringo.  Then they hear me speak Spanish.  Then they learn that I'm not a tourist, I live here.  Then they find out that I work at one of the more prestigious companies in Peru.  Then they hear that I am not here on a project, to return to the US in six months; this is my new life.  Then they hear that I play basketball for San Jose.  And they are in love.  They start thinking about a relationship, what the kids would look like, and spending their life with me before the first date!  It almost feels unethical.  Like predatory lending.

We (San Jose) played our first game of the finals Friday night.  There are usually about 50 fans who pay the S. 2.50 entrance fee to see a regular season game.  For the finals, the stadium was packed.  Among the side rafters, I counted at least fifty people in La Salle's band / spirit group.  They had drums, wind instruments, three or four flags, and three or four banners.  The San Jose band / spirit group had about thirty.  La Salle was much louder.  If I had to estimate how many total people were in the coliseum, I would guess 300 - 400.  I never played high school sports.  I had one amateur boxing match with a huge crowd watching, but you forget all about them as soon as you get hit in the head.  I must admit I was nervous while warming up.  I even missed a few of my practice layups.  We got dominated by La Salle, as I predicted in the earlier post.  At one point in the first quarter, the score was 21 - 4.  We closed the gap to about ten, where it stayed most of the game and they held on easily.

In one of my recent posts, I questioned whether being on this team was worth the commitment.  Four nights per week.  If I miss a practice, the coach calls my phone to ask me where I was.  I thought playing sports would calm the increasing stress from my job, but the super-competitive seriousness of this team actually creates more stress in my life.

The team locked me in Friday night my giving me a custom jumpsuit.  It is black with red trim and reads "SAN JOSE BASKETBALL" on the back.  It is actually reversable, red with no lettering when inside out.  The pants have breakaway buttons down the sides of the legs.  The jacket has zipper pockets, detachable hoodie, zipper, and snap-buttons at the base and at the neck.  On the front it reads "Cerro Verde", one of the biggest companies in Peru that paid for the jumpsuits.  Sociedad Minera Cerro Verde is a copper-mining interest that did almost $1.8 billion in revenue last year.  The jumpsuits are SHARP.  It's hard to leave the team after they give you a gift like that.  Plus, we beat the living shit out of La Salle in Game 2 on Monday by some 30 points (los cachamos en el culo).  I am newly inspired to play, not to mention beholden.  The deciding game of the first half Finals in on Monday.

I have many friends already; one co-worker recently commented on how well I am integrating.  However, something occasionally bothers me about my male friends across different circles.  When males become friends, they typically insult and poke fun of each other.  This is completely normal.  Having been in a fraternity and always had macho asshole friends, I can hang with the best of them.  However, a certain amount of time is needed for the friendship to incubate and develop before the insults begin.  In the warm culture, guys become good friends in less time.  I am a cold gringo because I need more time to pass before I am comfortable with this kind of joking.

After becoming friends, Carlos got in the habit of calling out “gringo maricon” (gringo fag) when walking past my desk.  The basketball teammates constantly call me “huevon”, which was the only word I knew to call friends when I first arrived.  It has basically become my nickname.  It's annoying to arrive on the court and hear five or six "¡Hola HUEVON!" greetings.  Huevon is used like “dude” in English, but it can also be mildly insulting.  The basketball team is quite relentless on me.  When they were in town, Dennis noted that my co-workers seem to like me a lot while Chuck and Steve equally noted that everybody on my basketball team likes me.  On the team, everybody dishes it out to almost everybody.  This is normal when mixing all-male groups and athletics.  There is one guy who doesn’t bear the brunt of any jokes.  The team does respect “El Negro” because he earned his place on the team, but nobody really likes him personally so I guess this is why they don’t mess with him.  I seem to be one of the most popular targets of insults.  But the joking is just too much too soon for this cold gringo.  I don’t think I am a particularly sensitive guy compared to most Americans, so a lot of gringos might feel a little insulted in these situations.  These things cause fights in America.  Not being disrespected is important to many men.  I mildly lost my temper at work a few weeks ago with David, who has been very creative in coming up with insults.  “Gringo bitch”, “bitch”, “gringo basura”, “gringo maldito”, etc. became common almost overnight.  I must have been having a bad day when I firmly told him to call me “Colin”.  Not anything else.  A week later, he mentioned how I ‘yelled’ at him and 'the whole world noticed' – a bit of an exaggeration.  He told me he calls me that because we are buddies and he doesn’t mean anything by it.  David is gay so I obviously knew he wasn't trying to intimidate me.  He is that funny and outgoing kind of gay that always says outrageous things.  Maybe this is why he got under my skin that day.

I spotted David as gay my first week on the job.  Before I was completely sure, I asked Carlos and he said “Creo que si.”  I think so.  He wasn’t sure after having worked with him for over a year.  He has become much more convinced from my occasional joking on David’s obvious homosexuality (e.g. Carlos asks me who I am going to the bar with and I tell him ‘the girls from the office: Carla, Carolina, David’).  David listens to Madonna for Christ’s sake!  Every day!  How can people not know?  I think the girls know but nobody ever acknowledges it amongst each other or even with him.

Don’t misunderstand me here – I have had lots of gay friends over the years, even good friends.  And I have had friends come out of the closet (none of whom were much of a surprise to me).  David is good people.  He is absolutely hilarious and I like hanging out with him.  Since Carlos’ son was born, he and I haven't been hanging out much.  I have been eating lunch and becoming good buddies with David.

David once told me he likes negritas – black girls, which there are none of in Arequipa.  Another time with the co-workers in a crowded bar, he told me he would point out a girl that he thinks is beautiful.  He scanned the bar crowded with women and told me there were none.  He seems to be putting on this front for me like he’s one of the guys.  It’s so stupid that I have to listen to it.  I don’t have a problem with gay people s