Alfonsina and the Sea

The famous Argentinian writer and poet Alfonsina Storni left her room on Tuesday, the 25th of October 1938, and went for a stroll on the beach at Mar de Plata, Argentina. Her body was discovered in the sea the next morning. A legend arose that Alfonsina, troubled by her terminal illness, slowly walked into the ocean. The song "Alfonsina y el Mar" ("Alfonsina and the Sea") was later composed by two fellow Argentinians, Ariel Ramirez and Félix Luna, inspired by the suicide of Alfonsina Storni. This song has been performed by many Latin American artists, but one of the most important ones was by Mercedes Sosa, a world-famous Argentinian folk-singer who recently passed away.

The song is extremely sad, but extremely beautiful at the same time and that's why I want to share it with you. It captures the melancholy of Alfonsina, who slowly makes her way into the water, leaving her life and works behind, ready to embrace her destiny...

The English translation:

Over the soft sand licking the sand
Her small footprint never comes again
And a single path of grief and silence
Reached the deep water
A single path of mute griefs
Reached the foam

God know what anguish filled you
What ancient sorrow deadened your voice
To lay you down lulled
By the singing of the sea shells
The song on the dark bottom of the sea
Sung by the shell

You are going away, Alfonsina,
Along with your solitude
What new poems did you go to search for?
An ancient voice of wind and salt
Breaks your soul and it's taking it away
And you go, over there, as in a dream
Asleep Alfonsina, clothed with the sea

Five little mermaids will take you
Through ways of seaweeds and corals
And phosphorescent sea horses
Will make a round at your side
And the inhabitants of the water
Are soon going to play at your side

Soften the lamp a bit more
Let me sleep in peace, nurse
And if he calls, don't tell him I'm here
Tell him Alfonsina is not coming back
And if he calls, you never tell him I'm here
Just say that I am gone

You are going away, Alfonsina,
Along with your solitude
What new poems did you go to search for?
An ancient voice of wind and salt
Breaks your soul and it's taking it away
And you go, over there, as in a dream
Asleep Alfonsina, clothed with the sea

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Por la blanca arena que lame el mar
Su pequeña huella no vuelve más
Y un sendero solo de pena y silencio
Llegó hasta el agua profunda
Un sendero solo de penas mudas
Llegó hasta la espuma

¡Sabe Dios que angustia te acompañó!
¡Que dolores viejos calló tu voz!
Para recostarte, arrullada en el canto
De las caracolas marinas
La canción que canta en el fondo oscuro del mar
La caracola

¡Te vas, Alfonsina, con tu soledad!
¿Qué poemas nuevos fuiste a buscar?
Una voz antigua de viento y de sal
Te requiebra el alma y la está llevando
Y te vas, hasta allá, como en sueños
Dormida, Alfonsina, vestida de mar...

Cinco sirenitas te llevarán
Por caminos de algas y de coral
Y fosforescentes caballos marinas harán
Una ronda a tu lado
Y los habitantes del agua van a jugar
Pronto a tu lado

¡Bájame la lámpara un poco más!
Déjame que duerma, nodriza, en paz
Y si llama él, no le digas que estoy
Dile que Alfonsina no vuelve
Y si llama él, no le digas nunca que estoy
Dile que me he ido

¡Te vas, Alfonsina, con tu soledad!
¿Qué poemas nuevos fuiste a buscar?
Una voz antigua de viento y de sal
Te requiebra el alma y la está llevando
Y te vas, hasta allá, como en sueños
Dormida, Alfonsina, vestida de mar...

You can hear this song here :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GN9z585ziww

Moonlit Path

For lunch he ate a bit of desperation and stress, for afternoon tea he had a warm cup of anger and for dinner a plate of weariness and exhaustion. He was convinced that working in the office from nine to five was tedious, and yet he had to work extra hours because the finances were crumbling. As the sun was setting in some random location towards the western suburbs, he slowly watched everyone else leave the office, returning to their houses where warm food, wives, children and dogs were eagerly waiting for them. He watched them leave, with a bit of secret resentment, being himself deprived from such pleasures.

Half way through the night he suddenly felt trapped in that little office, a strange sense of claustrophobia that made his anger and fear increase by the minute. The amount of work to do was staggering, and for some reason the piles of paperwork just seemed to replicate and grow, as if driven by some devilish and obscure power. The sounds of the cars passing by tormented him, reminding him of the pleasure of life outside the prison he was trapped in. Even the clock hanging at the wall, with its stupid oval face. Even that pacemaker laughed at him, mocking the time he couldn't afford to spare. Deadlines, deadlines.

Tic, toc, tic, toc.

But it only took him one split second to do it. He grabbed his coat, left the piles behind, opened the door with regained energies, and smelled the fresh October air. He grabbed his bike and started pedaling away. Ahh, the feeling of freedom at last! His bicycle took him to places he had never been before, through sinusoidal paths surrounded by deciduous trees that had started to lose their green coverings. There were no lamps along the way - it was the full moon that guided him. The wind against his face was just enough to dry the tears of joy, those tears of freedom, of peace, of regained liberty, of sustained energy, of a supernatural driving force that could not make him stop. The pedaling felt like music to his body, a song that captured everything, every scent, every sound, every essence of life. He could almost fly - he could feel it now, like an airplane taking off from the beautiful moonlit path he was riding on.

The lonely trees, the moonlit path and the full moon were the only witnesses. He vanished into the air, like a beautiful musical note flying across fields, across valleys and across mountains.

Nobody even noticed the following Monday that he didn't showed up to work. He was free, at last.

Of Stereotypes and Identity

I find quite amusing how humans want to fit in a particular stereotype. There's always the geek, the nerd, the tall one, the fat one, the skinny one, the popular one, the rude one, the drama queen, etc. Why is it that in most human circles there always seem to be the same "types" of people?

Is it an unconscious set of events, i.e. there are particular traits in humanity that can be boxed and appear in every population of 6-7 people, or is it a conscious event, in which, like a performance on stage, everyone assumes the character they want to play?

On Facebook there seems to be a massive driving force for self-stereotyping. There exists this massive array of quizzes which will help you work out which character of this movie or that cartoon you are, or whether you fit in this category or not. In our postmodern minds we rejoice that, for an instant, the characters we see on screen or the personality they portray can be, for some reason, ascribed to us.

Are we not free to break the stereotype and be whoever we are in reality?

Who are you in reality?

Closer to Home

I just came across one of the most beautiful songs ever written for those who are away of their homeland. It is titled "Mi Tierra" which can be translated as "My Land". However, the English counterpart lacks the national connotation of "tierra", which not only means a mere piece of land, but can also symbolize the Fatherland.

Just a bit of background: "Mi Tierra" was released by the Cuban singer Gloria Estefan in 1993. As a Cuban exile living in the United States, Gloria Estefan and her family fled Cuba after the Revolution led by Fidel Castro and Ernesto "el Ché" Guevara in 1959. She has not been able to return to her native country since, and hence this song captures the essence of homesickness.

The video:

Now, to the lyrics:

In Spanish:

De mi tierra bella

De mi tierra santa

Oigo ese grito de los tambores

Y los timbales al cumbanchar

Y ese pregón que cantó un hermano

Que de su tierra vive lejano

Y que el recuerdo le hace llorar

Una canción que vive entonando

De su dolor, de su propio llanto

Y se le escucha penar

La tierra te duele

La tierra te da

En medio del alma

Cuando tu no estás

La tierra te empuja

De raíz y cal

La tierra suspira

Si no te ve más

La tierra donde naciste

No la puedes olvidar

Porque tiene tus raíces

Y lo que dejás atrás

Siguen los pregones,

la melancolía

Y cada noche junto a la luna

Sigue el guajiro entonando el son

Y cada calle que va a mi pueblo

Tiene un quejido, tiene un lamento

Tiene nostalgia como su voz

Esa canción que sigue entonando

Corre en la sangre, y sigue llegando

Con más fuerza al corazón

Tiene un quejido, tiene un lamento

Nunca la olvido

La llevo en mis sentimientos, ¡si señor!

Oigo ese grito, vive el recuerdo

Corre en mi sangre

La llevo por dentro, ¡cómo no!

Canto de mi tierra, bella y santa

Sufro ese dolor que hay en su alma

Aunque esté lejos yo la siento

Y un día regreso, ¡yo lo sé!

Which translates:

From my beautiful land

From my sacred land

I hear the resounding of the drums

And the 'timbales' while dancing

And the cry sung by a brother

Who lives far from his homeland

And who the memory makes him cry

A song that continues to sing

About his pain, and his own weeping

And you can hear him suffering

The homeland hurts you

The homeland hits you

in the middle of the soul

When you are away

The homeland pushes you

With roots and limestone

The homeland sighs

If it does not see you anymore!

The land in which you were born

You are unable to forget

Because it has your roots

And what you leave behind

The songs continue,

As well as the melancholy!

And every night by the moon

the peasant continues his song

And every street that goes to my village

Has a moan, has a lament

It has nostalgia as its voice

That song that continues

Runs in the blood, and it keeps on reaching

the heart with greater force!

It has a moan, it has a lament

I never forget it

I carry it in my feelings, yes Sir!

I hear that cry, the memory lives

It runs in my blood

I carry it inside of me, of course!

Song of my beloved and sacred land

I suffer the pain that exists in its soul

Even when I am far away, I can feel it

And one day I will return, that's for sure!

I like the song because is able to express nicely what it feels like being away from your home country for so long. I have been outside my country for three and a half years now. Don't get me wrong - I really love Australia and the warm welcome I received when reaching its shores, and the friends and surrogate families I have found in this beautiful place. However, the longing for the Fatherland keeps growing in me day by day, especially because I know that I will be home soon. It is like a 'positive feedback loop' - the closer the day of my return, the stronger the homesickness and the longing to re-embrace what I left.

El Salvador occupies a treasured place in my life in spite of all the sociopolitical struggles, the suffering, the pain and the weeping after years of tyrannies, corruption, wars, earthquakes, gang violence, etc. Back in El Salvador I would be ashamed of being a Salvadoran and my Amerindian heritage - while now I feel proud of it. Do you really have to leave your country to realise how much it means to you?

Why do I feel like this? I am not sure.

But the biggest irony is that in a year, when I'm back in my beloved El Salvador, I will be talking about the exact opposite - a reverse homesickness for my second country, a secret longing for my second nationality - Australia :). I will only be completely satisfied when I reach my real home, which is beyond this present world, and to that hope I live for :)

The Pains and Pleasures of Scientific Research

It is Friday afternoon. Twice this week I had to stay at the University Pharmacology lab until 2 AM in order to finish the last trial on my 16-hr pretreatment assay on neuroblastoma cells. Not to mention that the following day I had to be at the lab at 9AM to set the second part of the experiment (cell stimulation with a variety of drugs) which goes for 3 hours straight. The third and last part of the experiment requires an extra 5 hours of work (non-stop!), plus 6 hours for the scintillation analyser to finish counting the radioactivity of the 168 samples collected. I have to complete that three times, analyse the data of radioactive counts, and work out what to do next for the second phase of my project :)

Research is hard work. I had underestimated that - and now I have to keep drinking the habitual morning and afternoon coffees to make it through the day. But in spite of the fact that I am working by myself in the lab for such long periods of time, I am loving every bit of it. It is quite painful and tedious at times, but inherently it has this internal beauty, a magnificent preciseness mixed with an unsatisfied longing for answers and unseen implications.

Scientific research is quite fascinating, teasing the mind, asking questions in order to understand and admire the complexity of Nature, even if it is trapped in a Petri dish or cell culture flask. Science is fun, and it ought to be so :)

Are We Really Free? (An Essay on Freedom - Week 4 @ JCU, Semester 2 2009)

The word "Freedom" or "Liberty" had a different connotation in those old streets leading to the Bastille on July 14th 1789, where the people of Paris furiously attacked that old prison, the symbol of the Ancient Monarchy that had ruled France for centuries. As a matter of fact, in French the meaning of the English words Freedom and Liberty are summoned in the one word Liberté. This painting by Eugène Delacroix depicts an anthropomorphised Liberté holding the flag of the Revolution, guiding the people of Paris to the battle, even as they march on top of those who valiantly offered their lives for the sake of their nation.

The French Revolution marked the dawn of a new era, in which the European empires weakened as free and independent nations sprung all across the world, especially in the Americas. The search for Freedom would never be the same. The Liberty they were fighting for in those days was the independence from Ancestral Empires, which furiously tried to retain the absolute power around the figure of a King or Emperor.

In the vox populi of the 21st Century, people in ‘developed Western societies’ tend not to speak too much about the political or economical freedom they already enjoy. Of course not – that freedom they already enjoy (and take for granted) is because of the battles fought by their forefathers, valiant people who, like the Parisians, fought for the sake of an independent nation. The natural assumption would be that our present generation would enjoy the absolute freedom brought by political and economical liberty. But the reality is that even in our generation, humans continue to search for freedom. Past the politics and theories of market interventionism, deep inside Humanity lies the desire to enjoy a more holistic freedom, a freedom that will permeate absolutely every aspect of the individual.

Talking to a dear atheist friend, he commented me that he desires not to be affiliated with a religion, lest he puts his individual freedom in jeopardy. So, are some people still unable to attain the freedom they desire with all their hearts, even in the 21st Century? Is religion another Bastille that needs to be thrown, discarded and dealt with? Are there other Bastilles waiting for the final insurrection of Humanity?

Most of men and women of the 21st Century (at least in developed countries) consider themselves free to do whatever they want. But does Humanity use that Freedom to do any good? Is doing whatever we want true Freedom? To illustrate: as a Pharmacologist, it is sad for me to see that more and more young people consume drugs of abuse in the world. Heroine, cocaine, LSD – you name it. They are just destroying their lives, being chemically chained to the pleasure that drugs produce in the brain. These people are certainly free to do with their bodies as they please – but why is that Humanity wastes its Freedom like this?

The freedom stemming from political and economical liberty is just partial – it fails to supply us with the holistic freedom we so desire. It seems that we humans can’t stand having too much Freedom in our hands, so we just become the master of ourselves… or slaves to ourselves, to put it in other words. Our fight is not against Oppressors, or Louis XV or Charles X – it is against the selfish desires in our inner heart that want to take control over our lives. Sometimes those desires may be good - but sometimes, they are selfish, self-centred, uncaring.

Are we really free? Free from what?

Is Freedom defined as the capacity to do whatever we want to do, regardless of any constraints other than our personal decision?

What is the Freedom we so desire, even in countries that champion political and economical liberties?

Are we ever going to find that Freedom?

De Filosofía Musical: ¿Cúal es el Valor de la Música?

La música ha sido, es y seguirá siendo un método de difusión de ideas, estereotipos, emociones, opiniones y hasta creencias. No por nada la música forma parte del folklore de los pueblos, parte innata de la cultura nacional, regional y mundial.

Tomá tu iTunes, Windows Media Player o Mp3 Player y ponelo en "shuffle": cada nueva canción que logra alcanzar tu consciencia cerebral no solo cuenta una historia aislada, sino que te trae ante tus oídos cultura, sabiduría, un mensaje codificado en la ritmicidad y melodía que atrae la atención del cerebro.

Una simple definición de música es eso:

"... la expresión artística del autor de dicha pieza, quien busca expresar algo al mundo por medio de la melodía y/o la lírica..."

Por tanto, el valor inherente de la canción es precisamente lo que el autor nos quiere decir, tanto a través de la lírica como a través del ritmo. La mayoría de la gente oye música por esa razón - por el ritmo que le gusta, por la frase de amor, por el mensaje de protesta o de unidad.

Pero el valor de la música tiene otro componente, uno que depende ya no tanto del artista, sino del escucha. ¿A poco a vos no te ha pasado que escuchás una canción en la radio y que te hace recordar a X persona o Y ocasión? A ese valor yo le llamo extrínseco, forzado y aplicado desde el exterior, no naciendo desde lo que el autor desea expresar, sino del valor que el escucha le adhiera.

Un ejemplo: el otro día me encontré la canción "Rayando el Sol" de Maná en mi colección de música. El solo escuchar la canción me hizo recordar los buenos tiempos en El Salvador, teniendo yo nueve o diez años, jugando con los amigos del vecinario. Mi afición a la canción ya no es tanto por el ritmo o lírica, sino al valor que mi cerebro ha decidido ponerle, en éste caso, nostalgia.

De hecho, la nostalgia viene siendo uno de los más grandes componentes de ese segundo valor: la nostalgia de eras pasadas, de personas que se fueron, de eventos antiguos, de felicidades y tristezas del recuerdo. A veces, la "nostalgia" puede ser inventada, basándose en construcciones idealizadas. Me gusta la música de los 70's, y al escucharlo experimento una rara nostalgia de una era que no viví, porque nací para mediados de los 80's.

O mejor aún, a uno no le gusta una canción, no porque sea una mala canción, sino porque le trae malos recuerdos. En mi caso, no puedo soportar la canción "Drops of Jupiter" de Train por esa razón.

El valor intrínseco de la canción per se no muta, ya que guarda 'en una cápsula del tiempo' las influencias culturales que llevaron al artista a componer la pieza en cuestión. Pero el valor extrínsico depende de lo que esa canción simboliza para el escucha, y por tanto que puede cambiar y transformarse a medida las idealizaciones, percepciones y los recuerdos vayan extendiéndose.

Aunque he de confesar que ambos valores no son mutualmente exclusivos, sino que ambos juegan el uno con el otro. Jamás he ido al Golfo de Sorrento, pero al escuchar "Caruso" de Andrea Bocelli me imagino que estoy ahí, en una noche cálida sobre el Mar Mediterraneo. Jamás experimenté el Medioevo, pero al escuchar "Mea Culpa" de Enigma me imagino en un monasterio en la alta Italia o la Francia alpina, en algún oscuro siglo de antaño.

Una mezcolanza de todo eso: ritmo, lírica, percepciones ya establecidas, recuerdos... hasta estado de ánimo. Todo eso impacta que cataloguemos algo de "malo" o "bueno", según el gusto de cada quien.

En éste blog he colocado algunos 'análisis' del mensaje intrínseco de un par de canciones, y seguiré poniendo más a medida tenga más tiempo (y más ganas de analizar :) ) . No pongo mis interpretaciones extrínsecas porque nadie las entendería :). Esas quedan como mi tesoro personal.