THE SMUGGLING OF THE JAM by Ángela Benito When you move from your country to live abroad, there are many things that you’ll miss: your family, friends, maybe your routine, your city… I don’t know how I’d feel if I lived in another city far from my hometown, but one thing I have to say: the most important thing that I’d miss, It’d be the food; I would have to forget the Spanish food, and I’d have to be an open-minded person and eat several types of food. This thought is related to an incident that happened when I travelled to Mexico City 7 years ago. Nowadays I’m 20, and at this time I was only 13, but I couldn’t forget this flight. Well, the reason why I travelled to Mexico City was to visit my Mexican family –my uncle has been living in Mexico for many years, and he got married there-. In fact, it was my first time travelling by plane, and I was very excited (I have to say that I was very nervous, the flight lasted eleven hours and my worry was falling down the sea). So I continue, as I said, I went to Mexico to visit my uncle, and he ordered us to bring him some Spanish jam and orujo. It seems easy to bring it, but at the customs the police search the luggage and actually, the laws from the customs forbid you enter in a country with food from other land; if they find it, they will take it. This was the real problem, how could we do it? How could we pass the customs with the jam? It was a mystery. We checked in the luggage and after that we went into the plane. It was a very big plane with two aisles, three seats next to each part of the plane, and four seats between the aisles. I was fascinated, I’d never seen something like this, and at the end we could find our seats. Well, I’ve forgotten to say that I was with my mum, my aunt and my cousin; the situation was very comical: four women who had never travelled to Mexico, and they wanted to pass the customs with two kg of Spanish jam. Yeah, we had to pass two kg and we had eleven hours to decide how we would do it. Apart from this mystery, the flight was totally normal: we spent three hours on the landing strip because the plane had a problem, and no flight assistant came to explain to us the problem or calm the passengers. Because of this, a passenger from Italy, who was travelling on the plane, suffered an anxiety crisis at that moment, it was awful. Besides, I got locked in the bathroom accidentally, and I couldn’t open the door; and I
was 24 hours awake, and my mother took a sleeping pill and she was snoring during the flight. Well, we could say that it was a “normal” flight. When we were about to arrive at the airport, my mum had an idea: she thought that we could hide the Spanish jam under our clothes, and we put more clothes on. I said that it was a stupid idea, but we didn’t have other choices. Finally, before the plane landed, we went to the bathroom and there we hid the jam and we put more clothes on. Well, the situation was this: we were at Benito Juárez Airport, it was 35 degrees, the humidity was very high and I wore three jackets and under my three jackets 1 kg of jam was hidden. My first thought when I arrived in Mexico was that I would die in a faint. The situation couldn’t go worse, but, in fact, the situation became worse: our luggage didn’t appear, and finally they were the last ones. About one hour and a half after the landing, we left the airport triumphally; the police couldn’t detect the food so we ran away from the arrivals terminal to the street. When we were there I launched the jam, I didn’t want to know or eat jam again! 5 days after, my uncles from Santander also went to Mexico to stay with us there and to visit the family. The peculiar fact was that my uncle passed the customs with 1 kg of “queso picón” and nobody noticed it! He passed the customs calmly with his cheese in a paper bag and the police didn’t realize. Nowadays when I remember this, I realize that if you plan something it can go wrong; however if you don’t plan it, it go great!
A Cold Front in the Caribbean by Jeremy Espino
Like every morning the first thing which my grandfather did was turn on his old radio so he could hear the weather while he was preparing to have breakfast. My
three
cousins
and
I
were
having
breakfast
with
my
grandmother in the kitchen when we heard the radio announcer in a desperate voice warning his audience about what according to him would be the biggest cold front ever seen in the country (we have
to
think
that
we
were
in
a
country
in
middle
of
the
Caribbean). My grandfather came quickly to where we were and he asked us if we had heard the news about the cold front.
•
“Yes”, all of us said.
•
“And do you stay there so quiet?” he asked us.
Although we only were 9 and 10 years old, we knew what that meant, Immediately he went to our bedroom and he started looking in the closets for all the clothes which would harbor us of the biggest cold front ever seen which would arrive that day. He dressed us with three sweatshirts, two pairs of jeans, three socks and two cardigans for everyone and finally the four of us were wrapped in a blanket. I had never sweated so much in my life and I imagine that neither had my cousins. We spent the whole day seated on a sofa, waiting for the famous cold front to come, but the truth is that it never came and, neither did the rain. When it was night time, my grandfather only said:
•
Prevention is better than cure.
Jeremy Espino
December, 2012.
Be strong. By Julia Vasilieva. I will always remember that day. The day when for somebody everything was over, but for me it was the beginning. It was the beginning of my new attitude to life… It was still summer but the August days already started to be impregnated with chilly winds of autumn. That summer I was working at the cruise tourist company and in fact it was my last cruise from Saint Petersburg to Moscow across rivers, canals and lakes, with the English-speaking group that consisted of 35 people from such countries as Belgium, the United States, England and South Africa. I was a tour guide on the shores, in these small provincial towns and tourist villages where we stopped during our navigation, and animator on board of the ship. In the big cities, for example, Moscow and Saint Petersburg, my only job was to accompany my group in the excursions, to count the tourists on the bus, to be the first in the queue to get tickets to the Kremlin, to answer all the silly questions about Russian vodka and to remind them every 10 minutes to be careful in the crowded places. The days in Moscow and Saint Petersburg were the days of my mini-vacations, because in these cities we had a professional tour guide that could explain everything with more details and invariable city legends and jokes about Russian mentality. Nothing difficult, my job consisted of helping that tour guide. Well, as I´ve already said, it was my last cruise, I was almost destroyed and very tired of the previous groups that I had had. The strong desire to fall asleep hadn´t left me for 2 months. To work as a tour guide on the tourist ship is quite a thankless job: you don´t have weekends, no vacations at all, every night you manage to sleep no more than 5-6 hours, small salary. But it´s a wonderful experience to know people and in general to know yourself better. And tips, of course. With tips you can earn more than your official salary. It was my only motivation. I strongly needed money. And here we were, 35 tourists, the main guide and me, standing in a queue in front of the Winter Palace, or world-famous Hermitage in Saint Petersburg. I was talking with the Belgium part of my group explaining some important things about our navigation, when suddenly… It was like a slow-motion shot: one of the South African tourists June, stepped back but lost her balance, stepped on the lamp glass that was made inside the asphalt, slipped there and fell down. At the same time I saw one Belgian and American running towards her in order to prevent the fall but it was too late, June fell down with all her weight. To say that I was scared is like saying nothing. I was terrified, shocked, my hands were shaking while I was dialing the ambulance number. June was sitting on the small bank that somebody from the group found for her, not crying but with a pain on her face. She told me that probably she had fractured her right leg because it was hurting. She couldn´t move at all, every movement caused a very strong pain. In 20 minutes we were in the ambulance car driving to the nearest hospital. I don´t want to tell you all our changings of hospitals that day (because June had to be in a special one for
foreigners), and neither do I want to describe how we were waiting hours and hours for the doctor to examine June… But that day I learnt some important things from June. She was a very kind 83-year-old woman. It was her second day in Russia, she was full of illusions to make that river cruise with her friends, but unfortunately sometimes our plans tend not to come true… The result of the fall in front of the Hermitage was a cervical hip fracture and a broken arm. She was almost paralyzed and disabled to do a lot of things by herself. But! Not a single time she cried or complained! She told me with a smile on her face that 20 years ago she had fractured her left hip and now it was the turn for the right one. June didn´t stop saying “Thank you, darling” to me, to the doctors and even to the ambulance driver. I was shocked to know that her arm was broken but she didn´t say anything to the doctor because “he has so much work and I just don´t want to give him more trouble”, so I had to tell then the doctor about June´s arm. When we were saying goodbye to one another in her ward, she told me a phrase that later helped me to be strong again and to continue working on the cruise ship. She told me: “Julia, dear, I am really happy that it happened to me. Do you know why? Firstly, because I met such wonderful people in Russia that helped me to go through it. And secondly, because if it happened, it means that somebody wanted me to be the strongest June ever. It is a lesson that I accept with gratitude and all my courage. We can be stronger than we think. And you know it” And I know it.
A continent and an ocean, by Marina Trujillano It was in the beginning of the Twentieth Century, around the 30s more or less, when Chayo, a Chilean twenty-aged girl, enjoyed a brilliant mind; in fact, she was a very close friend of Pablo Neruda, the famous poet, who was his class mate as well and cried with her about all his love hurts, and she also dated one of the most important doctors of South America. What a great future! At least if it wouldn’t have been because her father, a selfish Basque man who fled the country to escape from some responsibilities and had his children in Santiago, when he saw that one of his daughters was about to tie him to that place, he took them all back to Spain. From such wonderful expectations in the Pacific coast to the decadent land in the Spanish Civil War, depression couldn´t defeat her despite the hunger, the poverty and a whole dumped life full of success. She had to stay at home to keep safe from the war and had to look after her sisters: once her father was sure that she had no freedom, he went back alone again to Santiago, where the economy was highly better. With the passing of time, things took a turn for the better, but never as well as it could have been. She became an excellent housewife, with a spick-and-span home and her five-fork cook (she even said that we can only cook Spanish omelette in spring because the potato is best then); however, age doesn’t forgive, and she had the bad luck of getting Alzheimer. One of her nephews knew she loved strawberries, the youngest grand-daughter of one of her sisters, a child who carried her that fruit each time. I was that girl and I can hardly remember her now, only the image of her sitting in an arm-chair and eating purée, 17 years after her death.
Sidahmed Mohamed Mrabih
THE LIAR It all started when I started looking at her through different eyes. I didn´t even care, each was living his normal life. However, little by little we started to get closer to each other. We talked about our thoughts, fantasies, problems, etc; an unbreakable friendship seemed to grow between us. We went out together, went everywhere together, wrote messages and we cared about each other. But as everywhere, things started to get complicated (no wonder Murphy´s law is so famous), when I started having feelings for her, although she had a boyfriend. Sincerely I told her that I loved her, wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and that I had no eyes for anyone else. She told me to forget, that it was forbidden, it was impossible and that she hoped that everything I said was a joke. At that moment I felt anguish. I laughed, I looked at her and affirmed that it was a joke; but God knows everything I said was as true as life itself. I lied because I saw that she was nervous and uncomfortable. So far all was going like a charm: I teased her, scared her, we fought with the cushions and we enjoyed ourselves a lot. One day she called me a liar and told me that I was crazy. I asked why? She only answered that now she understood everything. Still everything was fine. I started to become the liar of the house. But every story has an end, and this had come when she had to return to her city, but would return. However, I already knew it wouldn´t be the same. I missed her so much. During her absence I wrote every time that I could, but our conversations ended badly. For a week I stopped writing and a friend told me “I have a surprise for you”. I asked if she had come. My friend smiled and said no. I was right, after one month she had come. So, when I saw her, we said hello coldly. It wasn´t like before. That night we decided to have a party to celebrate, but it was the worst ever (a long story to tell in this story).
The next day I felt in a very bad mood. We decided to talk; for this, I took her out for a walk around the most beautiful places of the village. When we finished she said to me: “it is easy and pleasant to tell the truth”, then she hugged me. After all our relationship wasn´t the same anymore. Now she is more distant; we have gone our separate ways. But worst of all I love her and I can´t forget her. She knows it.
The fugitive I still remember the first time when the police chased me. I was around twelve or thirteen years old. It happened in Noja in the northern of Spain. It was a summer day and my best friend and I decided to take a walk in the afternoon. We were very curious and we liked to discover new places very much. In front of our urbanization there was a small deserted florist’s. We had gone there more times. One time, I caught some plastic flowers which were in the floor and I gave them my mum. She became very happy and kissed me and she asked me where I had found the flowers. I answered that I had found them in the deserted florist’s. She advised me not to go another time because it could be dangerous. Although like a good son, I didn´t listen to her advice and I continued going to the deserted florist’s. One afternoon my friend Pablo and I went to play in the florist’s and we found a sprinkler with an inflammable liquid. We made a small flamethrower with a cigarette lighter. Then we wetted the wall and burned it. Apparently it was dangerous but everything was under control, at least we thought that. Suddenly a man who was walking around the place appeared and he ordered us to stop burning things and leave the florist’s. If I disobeyed my mum, why I would have to obey a stranger? The man threatened us to call the police. Later we were hungry and we went to Pablo’s home to have lunch. While Pablo was having his lunch I waited in the stairs. Through the kitchen’s window I saw he prepared his lunch. I was very surprised because his lunch was bread with mayonnaise. He was whistling while he was eating his sandwich. I understood why Pablo was so fat. He didn’t take care of himself. When he finished, we returned to the deserted florist’s to continue playing. Ten minutes later when we were playing with the flamethrower a police car appeared. I shouted “Pablo, run, the police are coming” and I started to run into the urbanization to hide myself. When the police saw us they accelerated to try to catch us. I run toward the forest because I knew it very well. I thought of hiding in the undergrowth but I kept running. When I’d been running two minutes, I crossed the fence of my urbanization. Then I looked back and I saw Pablo tired. Suddenly the Police appeared
while Pablo was crossing the fence. It was like the movie The fugitive. I shouted “Run Pablo, they are going to catch us”. Pablo insisted to stop running “let it Bruno, they’ve caught us”. But I didn’t surrender and I continued running. Finally I arrived at my doorway and I let them capture me. The police asked me “where do you live, guy?” “Here” I said. “Tell your mother to come down”. Then I rang the bell and shouted “mum, can you go down?” The policeman rang the bell again “Lady, we are the police, can you come down, please? Everything is ok” Then, my mum took the stairs with a smile saying “what are this teasers doing?” “Nothing, lady, they were in the deserted florist’s and a man warned us that they were making fire”. This was just a warning “next time you have to clean the Ris beach” My mum didn’t punish me and this was the last time that I stepped on the desert florist’s. If Pablo had been thinner maybe we could have escaped. The afternoon finished with a great splash in the urbanization’s swimming pool. Bruno Revenga
NOT EVERYTHING IS LIKE IT SEEMS… SOMETIMES
The metro station at the Marina Street was crowded with people. There were lots of men well dressed with their elegant ties and hanging brown leather briefcases. They were walking from a place to another quickly. Also you could hear nervous women’s heel stamping while they were taking black folders under their arms. This is the way all work days of the week are in the mornings of the cities like Barcelona. I had to avoid people from all sides of the station to move forward in the right way without pushing anyone. I had to find my uncle in the middle of the station before half an hour. For this, I crossed the tunnel into the metro to change from one platform to another and to walk around all the surroundings of the metro station. Luckily I arrived at the main part of the station where there were food shops and stores that sold all kinds of summer accessories for the foreigners. Here was Sergio, my uncle, waiting for me. He was wearing dark Ray-Ban sunglasses with a fashionable hairstyle. We embraced each other and talked a little about the next days we would pass and the places we were going to visit. Also I told him about my journey from my home in Santander to Barcelona. Then we started to walk to leave the metro through the mechanic stairs. Before stepping on the first tread I looked at the faces of the people absently. My eyes stopped suddenly on other dark eyes, then I moved my look up and down. These pupils belonged to an immigrant. My instinct made me protect my money bag putting my hand on it. After this I started to think that with this movement I had been a racist person. Why couldn´t I trust an immigrant if I had never spoken with this person? Actually I hadn´t been sensible and I felt a little guilty for thinking such a thing. Then we continued walking and we passed around the stairs appreciating the light of the exterior when suddenly my uncle started to get very nervous and rough, he was feeling an unknowing hand touching into his jacket. –Go away from here now or I’ll call the police!- I couldn´t believe it! At the mechanic stairs behind us was the same look I had seen before walking through the crowd. This event made me reflect on questions like what is believed in our society and human values that I thought to have. We tend to think that different people that belong to a foreign region are people that we cannot stay with, It`s because usually we are afraid of everything we aren´t used to. But in this case what I first thought helped
to me to stay safer. So we can trust who really know and be careful with other people particularly in metro stations crowded with people!! M贸nica Mart铆nez Medina