I arrived in Montevideo after a month and a half of absence, At eight o'clock in the morning of a southern and fresh Thursday from the middle of April. Autumn.
The flight had been pleasant, enlivened by some endearing plasticity gnocchi, A chocolate cake of universal flavors and the arduous attempts of a couple of aliens, quite similar to Philippe Starck juice polisters, for communicating with chosen humans, Among the entire human community, for its exceptional intelligence.
Arrival
I would like to see a movie starring running people, For normal people, Like you, like me, Like a lot of human beings from 7.000 millions that we are who does not happen to us extraordinary, or everything is extraordinary, But less cinematographic than it seems recommended to have an exciting and sensational life ... I imagine there is, But I think I don't know how to search the immensity of global film production.
At the airport was Myriam, owner of the floor that Rento, Theater designer and bread make, Married to a Swiss surgeon from Vespas, And mother of an unwavering and passion teenager, also unwavering, by the manga universe and the Japanese world.
An absolutely fabulous library, so, with forcefulness, The best coffee in the city
With Myriam, Just the Jetlag moved away from contact with the southern realities, We go almost by a telepathic agreement to skirmish, which is an absolutely fabulous library, so, with forcefulness, The best coffee in the city. This is subjective, is known, So it is in a personal opinion but, In defense of my criteria I affirm that more than ten people agree with this valuation. Skown also has a tiny and short corridor, tiles on the ground, An exceptional collection of children's literature, varied visitors who play books, They wander, They curly the space and, joy of joys, A patio! With trees, mesas, wifi, young and fresh people, less young and less fresh people, mosquitoes, Abejorros and a lovely and blonde lady who is called "Queen" and who sweeps the leaves and greets the staff daily as if each encounter with one foot was a formidable sign.
It was mid -morning. We sat at a table near a bronze fish, I asked for the livianito cut accompanied by standard greeting, Brand of Years and Years of Brasseries in Paris, and the waitress, very surprised by standardization, He told me smiling and shy: "With skim milk ...?"Remembering me, In your well -done work exercise, one of the many peculiarities of my army of mania and, responding to my happy stupefaction, said: “How long without seeing it here!”And I threw a gestillo like a bureau.
Montevideo
Sometimes it is boring, certain, But then you have these spaces with letters, bronze patios and fish where cages open to shout, dance and create that they have all Uruguayans inside and sudden.
When the cuts brought us, The crescent, Moreno sugar, the water jar and had barely begun to measure the amount of sugar that, well distributed by the foamy surface of the cut, Get to fly between the clouds, Myriam started talking to me like this, Without intro or all prologues, of the identity sense of Latin American art and the continental sensation of many Latin artists to suffer from a primary brand.
The fervor of the conversation was in crescendo and in a moment of glow and caffeine I surprised me, In a timely and almost mystical lucidity, from the site to which he had just reached for an invincible energy.
The trip through the works of art and the lives of others is possible
He had barely put his feet in Uruguay and was already in a compromised and emotional frequency where the impulses and sensations of separating branches in the jungle, Touching hidden cultures and trying mysterious brews possessed me happily and felt the same sensations, Without leaving coffee but having entered another world, that one embodies when he travels with the body and passports, with customs and vaccines or with the suitcase that has not just closed. The trip through the works of art and the lives of others is possible, The excursion through the imaginary and the winds of humanity.
It is fascinating, It is the cave of Ali Babá. It is true that the change of continent, THE JETLAG BORRACHERA, Air Europa's airplane and the effluviums that had surely breathed in ESA Boeing 787 To the rhythm of aliens had facilitated my openness to experiment but ... what an adventure so accurate!, What a sense of vital life!
I remembered Jodorowsky and a drawing he made of a circle that represents the "comfort zone" and beyond the circle, a phrase written with an arrow that says: "Magic happens here". Out of the zone.
So there is no excuse for not traveling, I said.
When we do not have the money or time to swarm through airports and borders, When the logistics limits us the physical recreation and the geographical scatter one can always leave its comfort zone, go down to the bar below and get lost by universes and creativity of others, flirt with inhospitable human codes and travel along the ways of the imaginary discoverer with the only risk luggage, The stupefaction, some caffeine or wine perhaps and the spicy complicity of the surprise of the exceptional.
