MY SLICE OF LIFE: NEVER LIE ABOUT IMPORTANT THINGS.
Nine years ago, when I was 13, my mum became pregnant. I was very excited when she told me the news, because I had always wanted a little brother or sister to play with. Months went by, and the pregnancy was going well: the baby was a boy and he was going to be called Ángel. I always went with my mother to the check-ups in the hospital, and I was very proud of it because I was caring for my brother before he was born. One day, after an ultrasound, my mother and I went to a phone box to call my grandmother and told her that the baby was fine, but I had the idea to tell her that we were in the hospital because the birth had been anticipated. She believed the lie and started to shout, but I immediately told her the truth with a laugh. From that moment, every time that I went with my mum to the hospital to have a check-up, I called my grandma to say that the baby was born, and she always believed the lie. The morning of September 25th, my mum and I went to Valdecilla to have an ultrasound, but the doctors made her a lot of tests that weren´t planned. When I was waiting for her in the waiting room, a nurse called me and said that they were going to induce labour because something strange was in the amniotic liquid. I started to breathe deeply and to cry: MY BROTHER WAS GOING TO BE BORN! My mum ordered me to call my granny, but when I said to her that we were in the hospital because labour had to be induced, she didn´t believe me. I had called her so many times saying that the baby was born, that now, although what I was telling her was true, she didn´t believe it. She only came to the hospital with my relatives when my mum said to her that it was true. My brother was born in perfect conditions, and I learnt a lesson: never lie about important things.
Débora Sánchez López
Dairén Martínez - SLICES OF LIFE To look or not to look pretty I remember my childhood as the happiest period of my life, although I faced some weird situations. One of these strange moments happened some years ago, when I was a four years old girl and I used to admire the pretty girls, especially the Disney's princesses. As I dreamed to be just like the lovely princesses, I was always trying every single piece of clothing that appeared in my house. I had lots of outfits from every different princess or other female film character I wanted to look like. The main problem was that I used to be a bit vain girl. I need to be cool so I prepared those kinds of clothes every day and I went out of home dressed like going to a party. There was no time in which I didn´t decide what I was going to wear. Furthermore I made myself up like an adult woman to be like them. My mother was usually warning me that it was too much make up and that it didn't match my age. I didn't take her opinion into account, I thought it was great! But other people didn't think the same... One day we were walking in Santander. In that time I had my lips painted in red, a very strong red. My innocence was represented in my clothes, my size, my attitude, but what distinguished me from other girls with the same age was my extravagant makeup. One old lady, a nosy old woman, asked my mum why she let me go that way. My mum ignored her question and continued walking. The woman asked again, like she really mattered. As she didn't give up, my mum finally answered: “She likes going that way. If I don't let her express herself she won't be completely free. Furthermore she is very stubborn and if I don't allow her to dress like that, we are damned to be at home forever!”. The lady passed by angrily, while she was saying something about these “new generations” and not caring about appearance. The lessons I have learned were that parents always do the best for us, they always have reasons to act the way they do and that nobody has the right to interfere into others' thoughts or education. So Miss, if you are reading this now, I hope you have also learned a lesson: Don't be a busybody!!! Dairén Martínez
Bad Luck One hot August day in 2013, the sun was high in the blue sky and on the beach a nice sea breeze blew. Everything was perfect. The sea was calm despite the bravery of the Cantabrian Sea. It was quiet, old people laughed, the children were playing cheerful, there weren´t any worries‌ No one knew that an evil creature was stalking the edge of the sea, searching its next victim. What looked like a perfect day could have a fatal end. The high temperatures urged you to have a bath. The water was warm despite the fact that it was always very cold, there was low tide and he water looked clear and bright. I was teaching my little cousin to do bodyboard when I felt a terrible pain in my foot. I didn`t pay attention but I returned in excruciating pain. I left the water and went to the other end of the beach, where the lifeguards were. I had stepped on a scorpion fish and its poison was paralyzing my leg. They had to get the poison out immediately, without anesthesia. It took 20 minutes because I had stepped two prongs. it was a little torture. What started as a perfect day became a disaster. There were hundreds of people in the water and the fish was placed under my foot. I had bad luck, but it was such a terrible experience that I will never forget. Marta Quintanilla G.
«Ghost in my family» I want to tell you a story that happened in my family, especially with my younger sister at Christmas. It was a long time ago, when she was a young child and she didn't understand what is good and what is bad, she painted herself as a ghost and wanted to scare us. She climbed under a bed and waited until somebody came into the room. But nobody came into the room because all of us were occupied with preparation for Christmas. She was tired to wait for somebody, but she was shocked when she understood that she couldn’t get out of bed, something stopped her and she couldn't shake her body. All of us thought that she was outside walking with friends. But at 8 o'clock in the evening, all of us tried to find her for the family dinner. And all of us were shouting "Lisa". After she answered, all of us were shocked to hear her voice under the bed. But when she was taken out our mother was shocked twice, because no one had cleaned under the bed and she was covered in dust, with a white face. Our older brother was laughing with our father, but mother's shock I think was so long that when she wanted to clean herself, our mother asked who she was. To this day she is afraid of ghosts and beds. Anastasia Li
Homework: Write your own Slice of Life
Secrets of a child (Tunisia)
I travelled to Tunisia a few years ago, while my friends and I were discussing about where we wanted to spend our holidays. Another friend of us had been fired a couple of days ago. “We have to get away for a while”, he said. It was exactly what we wanted to hear in those moments. So, in modern times it is a bit easier. Searching the net for a good offer, a good one, that would let us keep our expectations and our annoyances in another place.
Finally we agreed to visit Tunisia. Easy, Tunisia unites all what we looked for: it is cheap, fairly far and the sun rises every day. We knew nothing about this country, this people and their way of life until the mass media started to show us little pieces of their puzzle. But we didn´t care so much. We were going to spend there no more than ten days.
We took a bus to Madrid, from Asturias to Madrid. A journey which took six hours crossing half of Spain. During the journey we thought: “We are never going to arrive”. At that moment we didn´t know anything about a real journey through the desert. We arrived at the city of Madrid, we took another bus from the bus station to the airport terminal in Barajas. That’s what we saw in the city: many buses, many citizens catching buses, lost citizens, some of them desperate. We found the same atmosphere at the airport. After waiting for three hours and a half, a smiley face invited us to board, to rest during the flight, and to have nice days abroad. I will remember that face all my life.
What’s wrong with people on a plane? It seems that they had bought a single ticket to outer space or something: hearts beating like drums, people playing around like kids, looking up, looking under and out of their seats, telling each other stories in loud voices, and shaking (if they could do it) the pilot asking him where the hell they are and when the plane is going to land. A scary madness (and especially when you decide to spend your exotic holidays trenched in a hotel for a week).
We arrived at Tunisia at night; drunk, euphoric and tired. Then, without difficulties at the airport, the tour operator that we had contracted, directed us to take the bus to the hotel. It was a four hour journey through an amazing and dark country. During the route all the passengers were getting off the bus at their respective hotels. So, there we were, only the three of us sitting on the backseats and waiting for our time. Finally, we arrived at the hotel at midnight. Just perfect.
The next day in the morning we saw the hotel, the tourists, the employees and…the clouds! No way! It was hard to explain. Indeed if you think we were expecting a cruel sun and a suffocating heat in the middle of the desert. The weather was funny for me, at least. On the other hand we also expected more people a bit like us, but what we met by chance was an enormous hole of desire and TV watchers. Moreover, we were surrounded by ten holes like this and a hundred of TV watchers like them. We could meet Tunisian upper class families, British adventurers and many salesmen really concerned about our health and happiness. It was a mix of something that we were not ready to face in different circumstances. We met Tunisian children. Nearly watched by their parents, waiters, aunts and uncles, watching them, looking after them like a treasure. Those children were delighted with the atmosphere, running through the corridors, jumping on another world six miles away from their city. And they were surprisingly hopeful to play with us. One of them told to us that all his life had been like a string of secrets, carefully kept by his family and friends; even this journey. Some years after I’ve realized how strong that string can be.
We spent many hours under a shy sun, trying any kind of conversations with the guests, walking through the streets around the hotel which only in business terms could make sense for a naïve foreigner. It was our leisure garden for a week, dry as the sand but eager as one of those children at the hotel. Despite some unsuccessful night moves in the city of Sousse, just twenty miles from our hotel, we did not give up and we insisted on meeting the Tunisian air a little more closely.
So we decided to take a trip into the desert, to cross through the real Tunisia and eat real couscous too. We could barely feel the brownish skin of this country, soaked in sweat and doubts, we opened our eyes after the halt of the bus. There we were, in front of a great cheap restaurant with great cheap couscous that we happily ate up. Then, we had a conversation with two generous men at the restaurant entrance that offered to us a couple of great Marlboros before continuing the journey. So much better.
I must say I found no trace of the famous revolution that had taken place there a few months before. Indeed I saw so many things that didn`t remind me of any kind of revolution. After an amazing journey through the desert, between palms and dunes, returning to our fancy and boring garden, we made a stop in a salt lake called Chott el Djerid, a huge piece of no life in the middle of nowhere. That place looked like the strict meaning of calm for me: white, lonely and evermore patient; beauteous. Even more, unforgettable.
I`ve wanted to stop my lazy tale just at this point, around that cold calm, and protected by this monument from the ardent chaos of life called Tunisia; and hoping someday to bring back there any of the secrets that I grabbed for the price of nothing and all the value I could have imagined.
Adri谩n Red贸n