A Christmas tour. This year I did not think to write anything personal. However, in my mind of poor wanderer (and without enough courage to get out without a penny on the roads) I wanted to do a brief tour of these far away places that I like to see what said of this special day, Christmas, for those parts. Here the result: could surprise the president of the Islamic Republic sent a Christmas message, however, surprise surprise, it does. As part of its text Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said: "We believe that the beloved Jesus Christ will also appear in fulfillment of a promise of all the prophets, and, hand in hand, the Promised One of the nations will bring as a gift all the beauty and goodness for all mankind and for the whole earth, and these days we get another year to that glorious day.
addition to commemorate the nativity of the prophet of friendship and love, Jesus Christ, and to congratulate the arrival of the new Christian year, I pray to God, the Compassionate and Merciful, to bring to everyone, especially the Christians of Iran and the world, happy and healthy and be a year full of blessings, success and love. " For its part, the mood is not the best in Bethlehem, apparently. The Information Office of Chilean-Palestinian says in his note" Christmas under occupation Bethlehem : "Speaking of Christmas is impossible without some reference to Bethlehem, the birthplace of Jesus. The town is now surrounded by settlements, the wall that divides residents and cut by checkpoints that do not allow free movement. This year, like many others, challenged the closure Bethlehem and the site, as residents try to celebrate Christmas despite the difficulties caused by the illegal practices of Israeli occupation.. It should be a little difficult to have a spirit of joy in a country where, as the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem in message: "Christmas was back in Bethlehem this year, under the same circumstances of death and frustration, with the wall and land barriers and hearts. The "occupation" and deprivation of liberty, on the one hand, fear and insecurity, other, continue. Gaza remains a big prison, a place of death and of internal Palestinian dissension. Even children have been killed. And everyone, including the international community, remains powerless to find the right road to peace and justice. " An interesting account of the Christmas customs in the country does Hispanic Service Radio Bulgaria , limiting , as the behavior that caught my attention more, they eat only vegetables on day 24. ("Chileans would give up our succulent cuts of meat?) Those who understand English well laugh with " Secret Weapon Dresden , or how the Yankees are so paranoid they suspect a Christmas fruitcake as a biological weapon, according to the English text of the Deutsche Welle. In Serbia for its Christmas party expected to mostly Orthodox calendar that having Julian is later than for Catholics in the West. However, the Patriarch Pavle of the Serbian Orthodox Church in his greetings to the Roman Rite Catholics (Latino) wanted "in the new year there is less worry and more peace, less hate more love, less discord and more harmony. ", as noted by the International Radio Serbia . On the other hand comes to Africa the legacy of an idea born in Rome: Christmas lunch community of San Egidio. Fides detailing that "Christmas in Mozambique will be held in 20 cities, with the participation of street children, beggars, lepers, blind, poor families and many prisoners. In Africa poverty emerges with particular strength in prisons, therefore, many African communities in Mozambique, Guinea Conakry, Burkina Faso, not only regularly visit prisoners, but on Christmas day preparing a meal that is for many the only real lunch all year. " However perhaps the news that surprised me most of all was revised originated in England. And, apparently as Zenit points on the island is that "out" What is now wanted is a "Christmas without Jesus ', a Christmas party reduced to pure enjoyment and carefree'" and that "Among the signs denoting this war on Christmas, "The Sun" said that marketing firms are banning Christmas decorations if they offend other faiths, Christmas has been renamed Winter Range, the cards bear the legend "Happy Holidays" instead of 'Merry Christmas', the representations of Christmas are prohibited if the non-Christians find offensive.. " To say the least, strange. Merry Christmas to all who pass through here, that I hope can live in peace and feel the love and hope that gives us at this time. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
He died. 10 December. It was a Sunday more. I woke up late because I slept very late talking and listening to tunes. Anyway, we managed to reach the mass of twelve, he had enough competition, as always. Heat, typical of a Sunday in December, suffocating from early times of the day. The only thing unusual was that My aunt, for the first time able to buy pies at the exit of mass. (The public often sell out quickly) went to lunch at my grandmother's house Guille, as we do a lot of Sundays. The sensation of suffocation was the same every day often feels heat in the house. Lunch, as always, consisted of two plates, and was wearing a TV serial, to spend the time and day. While eating the "second", a call. My grandmother, quietly but not so much, he wondered how my aunt, his daughter, he will come calling at this hour. That call carried the news that the inefficient RED TV was unable to give the time. The call caused that we change the TV. Saying that Augusto Pinochet had died. Apparently, none of the five who were on the table will take the weight issue immediately. Great weight and no later. We saw pictures and heard the words. But there was no big bang, no expression of great emotion. My Aunt Mary went to sleep. Do not know if what he said on Friday: he would take one week after the fact. Me, my mother, my aunt and my grandmother stayed above the table, watching, and talking, but not much. We try to locate my other grandmother, without success. After I know why. had been killed. There was reason to believe that my great-aunt, who in 1973 was a leader in his factory, barely made it home on 11, then spent several days in detention and lost their savings in devaluations, could celebrate. Was happy, but said little. His sister, who inexplicably (ie, there is only one explanation: the grudge against her sister and mentioned) has been more right with age, made few comments. Me and my mother threw some sizes, but said little. And both agree that a lot in our reactions. There was no reason to leave open champagne as some. But not a tear or sorrow for someone who does not deserve. Yes
history and memory. Back home my mother told me something I know. My paternal grandparents, who scoffed at the tyrant's death by telephone, September 11, 1973 they were neighbors to dance outside her house, being supporters of Allende. I imagine, is one of the things I'd like to sentence writing history, that many people did the same. I do not consider why you must leave now to dance in front of someone's house. As the human meanness is not something to be shared. Errors are to overcome, not to imitate them. Understand the smiles of those who were killed during the dictatorship / authoritarian government, the kisses of the parents of Villa Francia Vergara (who responded, beyond the barricades, with memories and movies, and not as the pseudoanarquistas, "leaving shit ", as said in the photoblog of a friend, should burn the slit, as Jeton like these make people cries out people like Pinochet.), but I do not think that there was nothing to celebrate. He died, as all people die, that is not in itself a victory. All that proves is that it was "immortal", as its advocates say signs. Furthermore, why cheer? Today I saw on television, of course, foreign (French TV5) news that we should be ashamed. Ethiopia because of which we remember with shame and derision for their little children starving in Ethiopia today that a trip within the country could take months, just have a railway line, that Ethiopia has managed to condemn their dictator Mengistu , a Marxist, for genocide, killing many of them committed against Eritreans, now as an independent nation, are egged on by their government against Ethiopia. They did, after 10 years, with dirt roads. And here? Mr. You're wrong Libedinsky, which I think is respectable, when he says that the Chilean judiciary has done everything he could. The Ethiopian Federal High Court today, in a wise act of life, just to wipe out his words. not deserve pity. "Too bad for someone who had everything, who took it? One of the teachers to take days off my bed waiting for surgery for a tumor. This individual had an ambulance and a hospital bed secured for what happened. In the balance, my teacher deserves more care from a doctor, in my opinion. When he was arrested, had lawyers, the best lawyer in this country in reality (in terms purely legal). Without doing anything were better than those who live under bridges, which they harvest carrots in winter nights, that pirquineros that most of this nation. What would have you pity? No, no. not ask for his soul. I refer here to a point that I find painful. Is that I am deeply disappointed by the reaction of the church to which I ascribe, the Catholic Church, with these episodes. Not because I have been masses and responses to him, because that is fit for every Catholic in the hour of death, from which you shot to a baby dies day. But in other words, unnecessary. The Cardinal Archbishop of Santiago, Francisco Javier Errazuriz, has stated that "[Pinochet] did not hesitate to take command of the Nation" and "At this time we thank God all the qualities that gave him and all the good made to our country "seems little short of treason to the memory of their ancestors and Raúl Silva Henríquez Juan Francisco Fresno. For although at the time the Cardinal Silva Henríquez gave limited support for the coup, also denounced the aspects that seemed illegitimate, in the light of what we know now we can not say that Pinochet "meaning duty." He was an opportunist, a survivor, a guy who said "if I do not others will over me. "I do not think it has moved a patriotic conscience. And know why we should thank him, because their ancestors already mentioned publicly denounced all the harm caused by their government, and that was not present in the words of the ecclesiastical authority Santiago. If there was going to mention this edge, do not see why mention the other. And of course the duty could be waived. On the other side of the Church, the same who spoke of "culture of death" during his tenure, I did not read any reaction that seems to me concerning it, except perhaps that of the former Vicar for Workers, Archbishop Baeza. The most notable of the reactions of the Church had to come from ... Paraguay. And the bishop Melanio Medina "felt that the former dictator Augusto Pinochet, died Sunday, will be 'final verdict of God" by not responding in life for the crimes committed under his regime. " (Radio Cooperativa, 11/12/2006). As a believer, and with him as a believer in the same faith, reassures me that certainty, it is known that is not God who condemns, but the men, and "the penitent is the kingdom of heaven", but Heaven will open in joy for someone who, at least as far as we know, was never able to say "sorry" or having "a gesture of greatness" gesture, as I remembered my grandfather today, saved the figure of O ' Higgins posterity, as he was able to say "here's my heart" and leave. Pinochet remained in power because Merino, and Strange Matthei not supported. Da
to see paradoxes and unexplained reactions that fact, one of which is to Matthei. May go down in history as the man who said "I have clearly won the No, but we are calm," now comes up with branding the same special powers wanted him to sign a "giant". I believe that this really has dementia, but do not know, especially since agreed to stay in command of the Air Force when Leigh, who may have been very fascist but life remained in a clear way, in my opinion, was "thrown" by Pinochet. As an aside I support Belisario Velasco, criticized by many things, but in this case the only guy with guts (except perhaps the Minister Blanlot ... Well, in this case, Bachelet was hands tied, we know) of this government, for telling the truth, Pinochet is a hero, El Salvador is not the country, but not Satan incarnate. It is what it is, a dictator, a tyrant, and a creature of history and a society that does not assume to have given space. (Ravinet can get his "bad taste" where they fit, what theirs is, as said Senator Ruiz Esquide worthy "unacceptable.") For a man as he was not born by choice, but to an open opportunity. Open, as stated today "The Nation", which I think has had a great reaction both Monday and Tuesday editions, because at the time no one (not right, neither left nor Dece, or people. I do two possible exceptions, which are what I know: Carlos Prats and Raul Silva Henriquez) was too committed to democracy, justice, respect for others ... As the desire to "make revolution" or "end of Marxism" was above all. Even before the killing. And Pinochet and his collaborators, and those who incited violence the side they are, know and know that "Thou shalt not kill." The hands are stained with blood in the case of many, and few have heard the word that yes there was a man who many criticize him for "turned coat" or "coup", but acknowledged that at least his error, as is the blunders during the funeral: Patricio Aylwin Azocar. Life, who believe God is wiser than all of us ... Pinochet died failed, despite the cheers of his supporters. In his mind must have been a death like that of Franco, which I doubt will someday destroy the Valley of the Fallen. This is going to have to stay in a jar, in a house, maybe one day someone will steal or sell. A Franco (remember also that the English government chose to oust Pinochet to receive the other senior figures) was fired dignitaries from across Europe. In this, his followers of operetta and the army, which did more than fulfill a duty that seems like a "horn" for this institution. Ignored also die without much pain or great glory, for tomorrow the country will jump with Colo Colo, that if he wins give way to a white country on Thursday, or a general depression, but cleared her news of the minds, and then Christmas New Year, fireworks, summer and asses live from the beaches, and life will go. No one will die or the world will end with his death. Life ... Paradoxically, for the same day that "kicked the bucket" I received word that I have a sister who was born a helpless little person who has my same first name. And I hope that, even though not born under the best omens, is a sign of hope. Of hope that things are different. For I can not but agree, looking and living in this country, what was said by the writer Dario Oses yesterday in "The Nation" that "the long night of general will expand on our homeland." Not recognized as we gave space his coat. Could do it again. However, I leave you with a glimmer of hope. Died. Finally had to happen. May his name and deeds we are in memory only to be associated with two words: Never again. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
My first cassette. a while ago, bored in "Between nine and one in Co" talk about a miss know not quantitative, change radio, and ended up arriving at the Radio Universidad de Chile. To my surprise it sounded a song that is his age. "And they gave us ten and eleven ...", heard, and I was unknown. apparently appeared on a long border as I could see the time when cassettes were the platform for music, however, also I have witnessed their rapid movement through the CDs. But then, when he came to Chile's history of normal people after a concert, the cassette had a domain dispute. And I had the strange claim to seek "Physics and Chemistry "for me. Why a boy of seven, yeah, I guess around-years and ask colored vests a cassette case, a bohemian type who once more or less close (that I did not know then, of course, I came to find out a year ago, maybe slightly less) came to the Festival of Viña and put as a requirement to go to whores ? Only song that I found that the radio could explain it. In fact, I never heard too much of the cassette and I never felt very attracted (at least at the time) by another song that was not that. Must have been that of a waltz rhythm (when he had no idea what I was dancing ... well, now I have not much idea of \u200b\u200bthat), or perhaps the stones which gave the branch of Banco Hispano, an episode that I still gives some laughter and perhaps hold the key to the answer, then, until today, still beckoning the songs with good stories, which largely explains some suburban tastes of me that are typically difficult to understand. (Wagons, for example. How to explain it if not for what not to change or handfuls of gold per thousand blessings and love from my mother I think of the best lyrics I've ever heard?) So
the gentleman then only cassettes with stories of Uncle Rico and Disney (my guilty past, some would say) took the idea one day to ask for a cassette that was on the cover of a type face and a caption that read "Physics and Chemistry", two things which, subsequently, was never very good, but that still like the song, as demonstrated by the preparation and completion danced only when he heard on the radio. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
Month of Mary. Melipilla Dear Reader. And reading. Reading the title of this writing you probably think I'm going to make a kind of historical footnote. A dusting a longstanding rite to talk about it in effort to remember. And it is not. In fact, I was born talk about this month just because I'm surprised its vitality. Because I am amazed that even on Saturdays at 7:00 the parish is almost full of faithful who would not normally do so, and it is still amazing to know that still the Month of Mary rezandose chapels and parishes, neighborhoods and places , convents and hospitals ... Like when not so many years ago, my aunt and my grandmother took me out to pray the rosary to the plaza that many of you know. This year I decided to revive the tradition, for several reasons and secrets. With a strange taste I have noticed that I have not forgotten the ritual. is the Month of Mary, as usual with these things, is precisely because people live. For the grandmother raising a grandchild and takes him to the parish in hopes of a mother who is always late and tired. For the mother who does not work, and takes her son who is happy running around the halls of the temple, happy as she is not. For the women who live alone, in these lives that seem to be always the same, every day the same, and partly for that reason and partly to break it, remember that between November 8 and December 8, should go to pray the Rosary. For the worker who takes a little longer arrival at the house and the dish of noodles for a month just because being there in front of that beautiful image, which makes the mother feel that long ago went. For the young who still have them, but is so far away it is as if it were, and even this ethereal and outdated it seems closer. The Month of Mary must be the most traditional Catholics. Although the Chilean Adoration, which distributes leaflets with the prayers of the month, put the sentences with the pronoun "you" the power of the people is stronger, and continues to pray the "you." Even the most innovative youth choir is forced to yield to the invincible "Come and let us all," the official anthem of these days indisputable. And those same prayers that appear headed by Fr. Rodolfo Vergara Antúnez, whom no one remembered, but those paragraphs that begin with "Oh Mary!" afloat out of memory even of those who for years did not return to this tradition is still alive. ever
Father Alfredo, our "spiritual guide," said the Catholic Church in the early twentieth century had four pillars: the Conservative Party, devotion to the Sacred Heart, devotion to the Virgin of Carmen and the Spiritual Exercises (San Ignacio). The first died a lot, even though many would view the UDI or a kind of rival DC. Devotions to the Sacred Heart and the Virgin del Carmen coming less often, although keeps some people are no longer marching 10 blocks of young (read "Banda of war", referring to the procession of the patron saint of Chile) in honor of the Lady of Caramel. The spiritual exercises are practiced by some, yes, but most of the unknown, and I suppose many would not submit to the way of choosing between "the two flags." Of the masses or speak, though it is possible to see full parishes in many parts, the hard data of the numbers are clear, and hopefully 20% of Catholics go. But it is, he lives, the Month of Mary. Why? Perhaps because in this country of "outcasts" of parent (s) absent (s), the importance and necessity of the mother is of overwhelming intensity. Perhaps that is what gives meaning to the young man who feels distant, the old man and not recover more, the lady who never was, a, for a month, feeling that "our good Mother," believing that it is possible to "fill us with joy in the midst of the tribulations of this life and hope for the future" when we seem to have less meaning and purpose. Here she appears. "(...) The holiest and the best of mothers." As mother and the other, like getting up at 6:30 and go to see her, or spend an hour every day in your month. Greetings SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
in First! (Chronicle of a fan) Santiago, 31 October 2006 - November 2, 2006. Melipilla
The journey passed in a few words. Is that the nerves and anxieties were there. A bit of crunch match so there was not much to say, but much to be desired. time he had spent a week full of anxiety and restlessness. Circumstances had made a game which in itself promised to be transformed into a decisive duel. A safety pin, a party that promised to be memorable. And while waiting caused thought to concentrate on it, what Hurricane absorbing, that the nights are endless and you do not have no sleep or hunger. The nerves did laugh softly, and they passed before the eyes data, the possibilities, that "and if we win" ... Even stranger was not only surprised screaming, as if he were before the court. Felipe had lent me "The Clinic", but just threw him a glance, the concerns kept me from reading. After the toll appeared Melipilla. In the radio and at that hour, 15:00, passed on the game. Vicuña Mackenna While we were on we heard the testimonies of Lota fans who had arrived early for the city of four devils. Few cars and few people were circulating: Between Superclasico and the party that we were going, surely people are starting to save for paying attention. Pardo Advancing through the adobe houses welcomed us. Once on the bus were fans of Lota majority, and some of them we discussed what was happening in Chillán and other things to defuse. On reaching the bus stopped Benitez. A mass of fans Lotina really flocked to the Municipal melipillano, attempting to enter the stadium. In the distance, at the top of the east gallery, were melipillanos some fans. The bus took a detour to reach the Rodoviario, and looked Ortúzar get another trip, this time the blue and white fans. Apparently arriving an hour and a half before a measure was not exaggerated. descended on the highway and then called the man entries. Everything is ready, we were waiting by the door where they enter the ambulance and fire services. She felt the excitement of people as we crossed, and there, in front, jockey and a man bag (not a "man of the bag") raised his hand to say he had recognized me. Made several presentations, had to settle the issue of entries. Three of those who had boarded the bus we were separated, entered by Benitez. The four who were from now on we entered the door Ortúzar girl, and agreed to get in the east against the sun, just because the presence of the bar would make it more entertaining. Then we would realize that we were wrong, and also the sun was not going to be a big hassle. The force of the wind, which ran all afternoon, reversed the effects of the sun. We are located near the bar, then on the "popular" high enough to see the game well. For what was missing for over an hour. Music enlivened the atmosphere of memory, and the Memo we remembered all those songs of Richard and Buddy Zabala Hermanos, which are not the typical repertoire of "DJ" (a term that reminded us complicit in a song of our idol, whom I accompanied the Right) Municipal melipillano. But soon returned to normal, with cumbias. Hunger began to make some cash, and then unsheathed the sandwiches and cookies, in order to fool the stomach. After the "mange" breath. The Lotina began to swell, obviously bothering melipillana bar, and soon to respond. The fans always shouted when t spread Meliadictos giant, with much pride that has occurred in other fields. And we were on that floor when suddenly something for the gallery. The giant flag! With enthusiasm, although the first time without understanding much that went on, people, among which I included, was lowering the flag and shaking with excitement, clapping when they retreated. That guaranteed us entertainment giant flag for the party. Party for not missing much. Nostalgia looked at people, curious about the stadium environment, Memo and Zaldee already with headphones in their ears, and I that of pure anxious not want to listen to the radio Supermarkets notices Emelectric Romanini and I already know by heart, and challenge me to sing the jingle "promotional. Preferred to spend the nerves in silence, wind noise and chants. Meanwhile, we had fun watching Traverso and heating company to make moving your feet to one side to the other. I looked sideways and saw what incredible people standing. Lots of it. I remember the images of "Federico Schwager" with the people behind those bars and corridors of the week I said "no, here we can not get people to stand." There were. The audience had outgrown expectations, subtracting several minutes for the match. When I turned twenty minutes missing the radio and took out the notebook. Everything is ready, and only the kick-off. First came the Lotina, led by its typical miner, who remembered seeing last week in "Balls." And then, Melipilla Sports! We scream for them, and I waved my flag, but soon the screams were silent. Is that the white powder extinguishers covered us, but rarely have I been dusted with more happiness. Dropped from above the giant flag and shouting and jumping shake, to encourage a team that needed it. After the smoke raise the flag and sat down. Played the game. Soon Sports nerves showed on the court Melipilla I passed, and the sweets were made proportional to the errors that showed the team of my loves. I remember having loosed the hilarity of my friends with a long list of sweets that I took a Lotina that one of the Colt fauleó about the gallery visitor: a real string of expletives that made me realize that I had to keep some calm. Quiet it was difficult to keep up with the goals which disappeared Lagunas, and those who let in Lota. It was the first half and ended at zero. And I thought we was going to happen as in all previous matches. anyway to go back I got equipment I shouted waving my flag and to encourage them, though I hear. The prayers of the week were heard, because, apparently, reached the goodness to give him a victory to the fans melipillanos, the usual and occasion. A hand understandable, but it made no difference. When legal Lotina her out from inside, we watched with a face "went, right?". And Osses marked the center of the court, and players could manage to embrace Melipilla. It was goal! Yes, it was scored! Gooooooool! Me-li-pi-llla, I-li-pi-lla! What stops Melipilla! Gol, yes, what did it matter how? Was to smile, to scream, to wave the flag in the wind replying to Pericás and players who called to encourage. That woke the computer and woke up with joy. But there was more. While I expected to face Luis Mauricio and here we are silent remembrance to a corner of Johan Fuentes screaming like in the Roman circus "goal! Goal! Goal!". Then came the other goal. A goal. Pericás him all honor to his nickname, and Reno have been there I would have said "Did you see that it was Master?". Nostalgia knows how to celebrate that goal, that goal that made me jump wildly on the board, even at the risk of falling. Gooool! 2-0, now, now did seem ready! And why not believe it, if the court saw the end the team that won so many matches, the hearing that I had more to do, because he lost to Curico, with Magellan did not play anything, and it almost ended up causing Lota infarction. Now, and earned some ole! enthusiastic and excited because I was the first time I saw something, because in 2004 the crowd was just recovering, and the 92 was too young and my grandmother has not talked to me about this team, I still had the master of flags, and I went solo, she and my father one afternoon in Santa Laura, with fewer people than party meeting Liberal and there, no one around, we play that team in white and blue. the time was approaching. Back in the northwest, where the first time I went to Bravo Roberto Santibanez had to endure a while because I did not know that Dad always comes late Memo to parties, the silence is felt. Here, the carnival was about to unfold. The whistle did more than give the starting signal. Melipilla in First! was the cry, and far away in banking, red melted into a hug. The people who were piling up behind the scoreboard, that same criminal that Sunday before winter had changed without had got the goal, ran onto the field. Led by the checkered flag with blue colts, prouder than ever, approached the players, those who had achieved all this. Those who today replaced the memories of that balloon, U. Conce, evil arbitration before the Catholic, the league ruled that in Rancagua, a joy that was the end and beginning of a dream. giant lowered the flag again waving with more enthusiasm than ever. Then they came to greet excited. We applaud the four standing, watching his excitement. The skinny Medina, one of the interview in the "Triumph" he had a paper tape with my name, looked like a kid goat climbed on the fence, screaming, probably remembering her son. Franco Cabrera thought the head of the bar and had seized the flag with the Colts, making flaming. All-white flags flew, the wind whipping the horses as far away from the visits began. I hugged the boys, the girl, by the company, for joy, for the blessed moment. Players were leaving, but decided to turn around, and again the shouts and poor which had gone before, it is a carnival, a carnival is a carnival, Melipilla is immortal, and was immortal More than ever, at least for me, the journey, the money spent, year and a bit more on the blog, two hours each Sunday and then staying to write on the computer, it was all worth it. finally went to sing with Musrri in the dressing rooms. We took some pictures, and I was sincere. I wanted to go. I thought about going to the Plaza, but it was late, and the city where no one would understand the shirt he wore was waiting, waiting for us. I took a few glances at the "Roberto Bravo" to never forget again, with nostalgia and joy that radiated. We went to Ortúzar and I decided to wave the flag, amid some honking, some of them responded. Was a party. The white paper filled the east gallery, but now we saw in the distance, from the Rodoviario. Already in the bus, the radio never talked about our success, and yes the U. Colo Nothing mattered. There had been, to see it. To not forget it anymore. like in those "things of football" that has its well-earned space on my shelf, it's time for thanks. A Gonzalo, propaganda makes me, contacted me and warned me not to put his picture on a reply. Patricio, who was not problems in buying 8 tickets to this individual and to discontinue its work to letting me go out. A Juan Carlos, who we were sending us mails some mornings, the kind where you could barely sleep. In Mauritius, for all the nervous talk of the week, and especially by the gesture that he had to say goodbye. A Badir, who endured the tears to get me some pictures, which I will in the coming days. Andrea, because someone could rightly required me to spend those hours somewhere else, but she did not, left the stadium with me. A Memo and Zaldee, which were more and some supporters left Santiago in this strange adventure. Diego, who called me "dude fan" when I wrote, since more than ever that I can later go to a party. And my godmother who, as I wrote it, without it I had not been there. From the capital of Chile, a fan of Sports Melipilla, Eduardo Peñailillo. This is a "co" with "The adventures and misadventures of Sports Melipilla" Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
2006 Annual Statement. (Did they think were going to get my annual address? Well this year will not give in taste. I give the taste.) For more background on my annual addresses, visit: http://elpoleno.blogspot.com/2005/10/discurso-anual-2005.html Santiago, October 12 , 2006
(I know that this effort is useless anyway finish typing 15 in the morning, without sleeping. I know that this effort is in vain anyway, does anyone write a speech for his birthday? )
Well, they're 19. This year there are no dreams to give away, or budget to send letters. However, before delving into tragedies, I read someone I should not read, and remembered that the flames of hell have not even touched me. It is necessary, therefore, write something else.
Santiago, October 15, 2006
(6:00 AM)
(prediction fulfilled. With a smile after seeing two bottles of Polish vodka - "to buffalo" - and many stamps of this country, I continue.)
"In the absence" of dreams and hopes, I've tried to give in other discourses, what remains? (Because now I feel I could give those strange assets) That question has been haunting me, and I have found an answer.
In the current context, without Institute far less time than I ever had to go to roam city streets, and many other incidental absences, the moments appear stronger and more valued. And it's not bad to learn to appreciate the moment, to live, to enjoy this moment, although it could well happen later, is unique and unrepeatable (and imperfect, but that does not matter). This year could be said to have missed several things, but moments to treasure. Come to my mind some. A shirt instead of feared water pump, an ice cream to soothe the nerves in days too hectic. An unexpected overnight trip to a neighboring province, and an even more unexpected bike ride, with vertigo of walking the streets and a strange sense of peace. Dances in hidden alleys and walks of micro do in two minutes (but that train could take half a day to do, right?). Everyday life such as the walk every Friday at Alameda, always a good time, or open a box of CDs and there find ...
(O be writing this speech and a song that says there is a place in the sun will stop. )
(And then you stop talking about fighting another lost in your city ... Someone called the radio?)
moments of which has been very full this year are something to be thankful. Another is the
presence ... And here I have to make an explicit reference. Because it was you, Claudia Pavez of words that remain, which I talked about the presence of heart a year ago, and made me see something I had not seen. I have come to believe you were right, that was the most important. And that the others will come to you ... because this year I remember having to fight someone to claim their presence, and have come together on their own moments of roads. Of strange modes appear presences ... As in the Sports Blog Melipilla. Believing an entire year writing for almost anyone, and it reaches the anniversary that readers have names and faces. Not only are, are. Recognizing that many times one hopes, wants, and needs the tangible and visible presence, to know this in the hearts of others and "having" to those who bring in the soul, is a considerable blessing.
and feelings. Those who have avoided for quite a time (rather, I avoided) rephrase that in words, for some, lovely. Until I learned that other gestures do no harm. May have lost the memory of the time or the exact situation, but I can not forget, Seba, the first time I gave you a hug and left to call "Wheel." Remember? Well, although at times been believed to express feelings are not worth it, sometimes that "effort was in vain, I must admit that those occasions are minimal, and that I am wrong in thinking that, because although the moment I think the people and situations have changed, then maybe it was valuable. I think I gained much more than they could have lost (not really know what I lost ... I think nothing) in this process of expressing feelings and stop fearing it. I won enough, many people helped along the way, and continues to help. Best of all is that they are. While we may not be the same, is his memory and his mark.
Last but not least, (and further something which is always) learning. Nor can I forget the phrase "things that everyone has learned from the other", which always travels in my wallet, written in that paper did not expect.
had a doubt, and I have four answers. And I have some poor, because I think that is something for which I give thanks. And if Teiilier
said that the only truth is that "breathe and stop breathing", here I am, breathing 19.
you soon. Those who know me, know I use little "goodbye."
Eduardo Esteban Barra Peñailillo
President Poleni popular (and other nations imagined).
editor, publisher and editor of
"The adventures and misadventures of Melipilla Sports."
ideologue and idle after "micro tickets, The Ticket fotolog!
Webmaster
"Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus in English."
1st year student of BA in History, Universidad Alberto Hurtado.
Member of youth training (3 years, more than 100 meetings, "and yet" we can not have a name !!??) of San Rafael Parish.
the 4th the 7th I 2000-I 2006, National Institute.
"Pepón Doll", "Peñailo", "pollen" ...
And as many titles rather than imaginary. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
Roll the pencil, roll, roll. Banda Giving oral evidence is not an easy matter, I think, while I, like my colleagues who sit on the benches review their notes, of retaining vast amounts of information that is absolutely impossible that we could retain ten minutes, although insurance would pay if someone can promise that, to put it in a way, become "swallow" those sheets of paper filled with notes, and articles accumulated in those piles of photocopies of which there are only four copies of each and have to fight them before someone else take it early. But it is not possible, and there we are. We are waiting for the executioner cut off the head, to make an analogy. As man is usually a be (forgive the redundancy) unable to keep quiet, especially after suffering a significant accumulation of feelings, the output of the first victims turns out to be something that upsets. The company, which leads to the course for any activity or any of the existing long called for a strike or demonstration, comes out in a state of near hysteria, pulls out his cell phone and vent publicly and privately, crying in a broken voice that he knew the answers to the questions posed to others who crossed the threshold of what is usually a room, but now it has become a torture chamber, beside her, that he did not read one article was devoted to such a "green card", a word that does not sound, I think, as I so often look bored with the same notes and I have decided to stoic for my business, to Medieval Philosophy classes serve me something: The questions I will, two items will be I could not read due to lack of dossiers, so I planted a nice one as a note, and there is not much to ask. Stoicism, I repeat, to convince, as pessimism has worked on many other occasions. are gradually leaving the other mourners of the occasion, with eyes lowered heads, short, and resigned expression. Wonder if he has known someone who has folded his hand to the target, or rather, a executioner questions turn, as in the first class had told us not to be afraid, but in oral evidence to Students usually fare poorly. One, I respond. A. Rather than betting on the chances of emulating, I betting the resigned stoicism, because I know I will not learn or remember the characteristics of the ceramic Molle in the short or long moments of my stay. Suddenly, with slightly satisfied smile and a touch of sadism as they run out dentists find their patients, he, the teacher that the other day looked down by its size and now has become impassable giant, Sphinx to which we are not any Theseus, out to find new victims. Some and some take their backpacks, ready to go. In a couple of faces you see some optimism, or a laugh that they are nervous. In others, frowning. "Missing one," he says, and I, who have tried to keep to quiet all this time that makes anyone would freeze a little blood, look at the rest, and no one stands up. Nobody gets up. Resignation, I think. Let's finish this, as I close the bag to go, last gladiator who bow to Caesar in this fight, and pulled out as the only weapon which trident, a pencil. A pencil, yes. A little trick that I have recommended. And not to write down the answers in hand. If oral evidence before a torpedo no worth. I keep the short hallway, and I join the line of trembling and nervous, sitting, waiting, "a stroke of luck" as that song by Lucho Jara said. You know, know if we will be playing dance with ugly or luciremos us on the track. While asking the names I take to practice with the pen, which has only one useful for me. Roll it. I brought it just to roll with the hands, with that passage from one side to the same side, spiral and endless cycle, I disentangle and relax, if that's possible. Sorry to pass between my thumb and forefinger, moving as if all that happened at the time, like a breeze that comes not know where, setting a different time of the second, different clock ticking . In the midst of this sensation asks my name. I tell you, with acute middle that little voice that I never would contest to win a radio announcer. "Peñailillo" he repeated, and, like all those people, like most people, like my friend's dad, launches a funny anecdote believed, noting that he had a girlfriend in the basic of that name, which he said "Peñagrillo. He laughs slightly, I invent some laughter. Once also told me so. People often have problems with my surname, and others as well. Past. I do not let me disturb the memory. I roll the pencil a little more. begin the questions. The first to respond outlines a response, stumbling, but manages to something coherent. A five award a few drops of sweat that run from the hair. Next question, and is one of an article I read and I can not remember. A chubby seems also passed swiftly by that document is not very useful, do not know. Then a girl who usually greet me, and uses what she calls "bullet lens." Neither succeeds. I would not be the exception, if my turn, I think, and I roll the pencil rapidly, anxiety, someone answers, I do not know. He is someone who has good background. "Do not deliver the job," said the professor. The guy did not intend to outline excuses. Already, the same question. And he knows. Something known. Yes, something known, the intensity decreases and returns my money at that rate of Rosario you purchased while you hear about the weichafe and provide details, of course, could not recall anywhere in my memory. ends, having convinced relative to the teacher, and I looked at the pen spin, twist and turn. Still another, which gives a very clear answer to your question. Then the girl next to me. She is nervous, you'll note in his voice, and I do not watch it. There's the pen, providing the necessary distraction, diverting my attention with its passage through the tips of my fingers, tips of my fingers, I think, as she is pitching ideas, some correct, others that have nothing to do with Culture Llo -Lleo, and Professor calmadita tells you, do not be nervous, and she swallows, returned to the charge, but nothing much happens but again confused. I shake my head, and saying to myself that no, it's not Llo-Lleo, which is Molle, and look at the top of the pen. She finished, and I raise my head, while turning the device that has managed to divert my attention from the nerves and bald head that looks at me, and I look with some comfort and a hint of a smile, and asks me talk to you about Aconcagua. Aconcagua. It took me a moment's rest, two forward and two reverse turns the black pencil that accompanies me to draw an "as is" makes me win reprimanded for using a crutch. Another twist in pencil, safety, and changed to a "is" because it is PIT in Central Chile, and look at me "well" and then I remember the exact dating, which brings a smile to the Inquisitor hear, and then I remember the presence of irrigation canals, there is no rock art, as I said Niemeyer, and even out of my memory the categories of ceramics and serving, remembering the pucos, which had been smoothed brown "look egg "for their coarseness, but that it was essential for its role in cooking. I pause. "Parties and English horse," he says, I remember the colt, a foal that few know, and tell me continue. I remember two or three things. "Anything else?" He asks. I roll the pen with audible clicks and see if the pace gives me another answer. Nothing more. I hope, look at the sheet, and says, "a six ...". Do not listen to what follows. A six is \u200b\u200bthe number that will follow, is more than I expected. Second round of questions. Five truck was in the first two of the respondents, because they just can answer one or two words about what you ask. My prayer has pencil passes slowly between my fingers, and after hearing the number of four letters and mentally I can go with something music, and no longer "Boxers" because though they bring a knockout in the last question, at least I won a round. The first container is removed, and our executioner out of an ace up his sleeve that he had cut many heads in the previous round. Question by a "maca". The fat man laughs nerves, and do not know. A one. The girl with the glasses does not know, and attempts to articulate an excuse for a license that no one can understand well. It is not helpful, of course. It is less people in that room, and not delivered the work of again. And when he says "Inca" I know that is not with "c", that the case is called "makka" and that if our questioner had said "aryballos" probably one of the above questioned could have given the answer. Gives enough detail boy, while I took the face and open mouth with an expression of "I remember everything," as if they had replanted the memory, and then back to the pen, thinking that this question will not be for me, as It skips some details that make a four and remove both, and the lack of work does not give a good grade, but earned the epithet of "intelligent" teacher. It has a good mitigating, however. Not be easy to do a thesis in Sociology at the same time trying to study for a field like this, archaeological items, ceramics incisions tembetá and reticulate. We were three. One response is a rather bad, and a note of that. Then the girl again, and for the current to the nerves, the nerves that I have not been unleashed and myself have been unable to shake the legs, as so often in performances of flute and infinite terminal, I'm going to casting the mill that is my pen and turns, strong enough to expel a channel of peace that the Stoics such as envy thought a while ago, and that it has the girl next to me, this time responds more conclusions than clear, and is about to break, and the teacher tells him to calm down, and this time his answer is not given for good note. Leaves, holding back as he can. Go to the bathroom, I guess. "We are alone, I think, and I laugh to myself. Paul looks outside, anxious for him to touch him, but allowed me a gesture of encouragement, I appreciate the time I try to avoid, because I was disruptive in the rate of pen that has rolled and rolled over the question undetermined minutes; lifeline of this shipwreck. Last question, and after some comments, the inquisitor was given the task of thinking what to ask this guy. Tell me about the Mapuche descent system. And my mouth seem to come out a story when I hear you say "It all started when Jose Toribio Medina ..." and then I remember the controversy Latcham-Guevara, and current, that current strong economy with as little turbulence that has enabled the mill flow through my hands in invisible water, it raises the count of the Indians of the Isla Mocha, and Silva, and double descent, and lakou CuGa. Anything else?, I hear that again. No, no more. "There were some details of the article by Silva, but that's okay." A 6.4 tells me, and paradoxes of fate, I work it down to 6.1. "That's life, I think, still unconvinced that both very existence has brought me a shout well on a test like that, and that those orders have contained pseudo-parkinson my usually break out at times much more trivial than this. I make a few inquiries, I said that those who do go missing, and leave. I ask one or two as I was. It went well, what else could I say?, And their faces are still with them quizzically detail that was a six-one. Enter all, because there are no more, except the thumbs-up, which must cope with the speech, now have to expand on the paper. Let them deal with their own lions, and I go down the stairs and runs down the stairs the girl who goes to meet his lover, with an undisguised smile, and I still feel the spin, good turn, El Salvador turn of that pencil between my fingers, which was more than just a pencil, I think, as I tell myself that I have folded the hand, and that makes me laugh in silence, and makes me want to tell someone. (Any resemblance to reality ... It is no coincidence.) Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
war. The yellow micro Gonzalo father took them from Puente Alto to center that was always the most important presentation year. Because it was not presented at the Lyceum, to the laughter of many, and admiration of the very few who go out and paraded through the streets of Santiago, with so many people in so many parts you are looking to go through the martial rhythm Peña's stern gaze to not commit any error, because "here do not make mistakes, young people, not take them out for a walk, but to march." The procession of the Virgen del Carmen was an event for the marching band del Liceo Industrial San Jose de Puente Alto, and he, Roberto, this year going forward. Guaripola. With his mother looking at him in uniform, "more perfect than ever," Robert looked pass the streets as I thought I could not forget the moves. Top, right, forward, back. A hint of nervousness was going through her mind, but then Kathy started hitting the bass drum, scaring them and making everyone laugh. Then he turned his eyes on the street. So Fourteen was familiar territory, but beyond that I could count the times he had gone. I could hardly remember when he lived elsewhere, was very small, and it seemed he had come to life has always been at his home in the Villa Los Peumos equal to those who were near land of identical houses. had to leave and walk away from the micro to the Plaza de Armas ("Did you bring your passport?" Someone asked, and laughed with his teeth slightly yellow). Were the two recently, and the procession began at four. The sun was strong, but his booming voice Peña knew overcome any distractions for sun and say I expected that lucieran, which had been tested for that week, and prepared all year. Spent reviewing the uniform as he watched those old buildings that looked so strange, so alien, as if it were somewhere else. "Let's see! Stop pajaronas, Perez, and let me start moving!" he shouted in his ear the band director, since time began waving their hands to receive an almost inaudible "Yeah, right" for cards. While waiting in the sun came out it, one to which her mother called "Virgin" and on whose behalf he blessed every morning when he left. That was its meaning to him, but still saw it go amazed at its poles monumental statue with its beauty, because the party was decked her, but deigned to give him some prominence to these boys come across of the city march to the passage of one, two, one, two. She would go back, reminding the rhythm, telling people who to see. They announced over the lady, flattening the pavement, calling people that came out to look, and pass them strangers for an evening march and received applause martial people would not see. steady grip the metal stick. I was ready. Broke the martial who asked only to look back and make sure there was his mother, who smiled to encourage him. For the speakers sounded the call for the procession, which was to begin. Peña stared at him, and he put a serious face to let you know he was ready, and make it right. The first people began to march, and the curious who crossed Square looked on with puzzled eyes. He looked around the field of view of the square and turned just in time to hear the "Now" Pena, and then, with the first movement of staff, began to sound boxes, drums, horns and the triangle. Left, right, left. Doubling the street left behind strange square and old buildings were delivered to the pavement and sunshine, the parade and the sound of the march. Peña, from time to time, I looked to see that is not devolved. And in the first blocks began to appear people who gathered at the sides to watch. Roberto could not help but look away - "Firm and in front!", As so often had shouted Peña to test-to see them. Some smiling faces to watch them go, especially the more elderly people, those who also was always filled with the procession. And he also saw them as he went. Those faces of large families and blonde, like on TV. In the distance, the buses and cars diverted to make way for them. Well, not them, the Virgin and all that followed. But to them, yes. Along the way martial which never walked down the street. In his eyes straight ahead, rarely looked like their heads down. A posture that day, and perhaps only that day, had a motive to stand, to tell these people and these buildings "here I am." Here I am, here leave, one, two, one two, and she looks and looks at us and smiles. Their march culminated at the pedestrian walkway. Never mind the heat, the sore feet. Were the cheers, the eyes shining on them, once on them. When the bank and could finally leave the instruments, were saisfechos and laughed. Kathy remembered the tense moment that she almost dropped the stick, and laughed: nothing had happened, only a cold sweat it passed an instant. "Well, well," said Peña. His mother would not let go, saw her smile and could not help more with getting an expression that was not typical, but it was so comforting when you have it. They saw it happen to her, the queen of the feast, and so happy, I felt like Mrs. winked his eyes lifeless. He took the hand, as mothers do when they are proud, and walked along the pedestrian walkway. I bought a bag of chips they were eating and laughing. Laughing and laughing with the boys as often as they sat two hours in a micro to reach those strange places and walk in gang, laughing, but that laughter could hide the trace of bitterness in their mouths and eyes. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
My postman and myself. My mailman's last name is Navarro, and I forgot the name. Normally you do not know how the heck is called your carrier, and in fact most probably just see it. However, both bring me letters for years past, at least get to remember his name. remember him even before the shortwave radios, the mailman was occupied by me because of my "unhealthy? demand for foreign tourist brochures. Yes, you read. After our "looting" the embassy with Sebastián Rueda in 2004, was left with little taste, and found that one of the wonders of the internet was that you could ask for free brochures up to Cochinchina, if you knew how to get . Only this can explain the Correos Chile man who went around my neighborhood has brought me strange packages from Nepal, Lietchtenstein, Andorra, Monaco (hehe), and many other places. I guess that must have drawn much attention to the man of letters, ie, it is not normal to Conchalí (E-8, language postal continue under that name even though the post office in the commune has been closed, and only survive the El Cortijo, far behind his hand to me.) Andorra shipments arrive, for example. I must say that my magazines and tourist brochures always came, it was not of those who stole the magazines (remember that case, ladies and reader?). And it was for both, as well as I imagine becoming influenced by the "Client of the Year" (for when you get a letter, you have to pay the postman), which this year gave us a Christmas card, which my mother must have stored somewhere. With the arrival of the letters of the radios, which timidly appeared in 2004 but appeared with force in 2005, to the detriment of the tourist brochures, I stopped asking (and I were nearly destinations you request them, and I never had much taste for Caribbean destinations or U.S.), their role became more important to me, because what the tourist brochures was more a hobby thing, however, the fans of the listener / DX ( read the previous post for more) is key to receive the letters, receipts carry the stations, and well, also other goodies. However, these new deliveries, and keep track about the letters I send / receive, made me realize that my Mr. Postman, but has never failed me with the cards (I think), is quite lazy to bring it to me. Along with this, probably the reader who knows me is surprised that has not made mention of letters from friends, whereas some people, and from time to time, I usually send letters by mail. Well, I do not usually receive many letters from friends, but I must point out that these also influenced realize that the mail was not being very diligent with my cards. There is a service called "Priority", where they are supposed to get letters in 3 days. Of course, I do not happen. And it has caused the boredom of certain ladies, who prefer to send their letters by other means, more expensive. Of course, I spoke with my wallet on the subject, and along with blaming other levels of the company (which no doubt may have liability in certain cases, given the outrages they have committed some my letters), tangentially said a key reason for the delay in my letters: The subject is dedicated to distribute pension checks, which are more "priority" that my letters, and, of course, will result in a greater benefit money. So, despite my complaints, I assumed. The mailman comes only twice a month (and usually on specific days: Mondays, Wednesday or Friday): In the middle of the month (if I have received letters), or early / late. And sometimes you fall behind. Like now, I know I have letters waiting, and we're 21 and not forthcoming. Could she have gone to La Pampilla? Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
The little band of listeners. (Are we the Chilean listen to shortwave as the "little band" of Magellan ?) Santiago, August 31, 2006. The reader who know football know what I mean by "the little band, and who does not know, I explain. The aforementioned band-aid is a group of enthusiasts who encourage the football team playing Magallanes music throughout the game and giving joy and encouragement that often sets (last year) will return only sadness, especially this year, which makes one week sentenced her fall to the Third Division of football, amateur . (Although it is worth clarifying that in Chile, halfway, the amateurism "in football is' semi-amateurism, and professional football l gives for" semi-professional "no more) the proportions of "sui generis" comparison, short-wave listeners in Chile, who practice the "DX" , resemblance to the little band of romance. Cultivating a love that lives in history and memories of this, this we look with concern and with nostalgia. In an amount that will hopefully reach the very poor calls the white and blue team this season (1). Sin house as the "bundle of carnations" because decades ago that Chile has a national broadcaster service, much less on short-wave transmitters and Calera de Tango were sold to the friendly, but foreign radio "Christian Voice" (now "CVC The Voice") . Only Hope Radio Temuco Chile maintains a native voice in the ether of the short waves, but not even checking the receiving reports (2). sorry state if we compare, without going any further, our neighbors from across the Andes, which football fans also look up. (And what a paradox that the table Magellan is also called "albiceleste") To start the trasandinos have the fortune to keep alive and kicking to the RAE, Argentina al Exterior Broadcasting, transmitting to the world from Japan to Europe. In his powerful Argentine Listeners Group and its programs "Actualidad DX" and "La Rosa de Tokio" from this side of the mountain range can only oppose the effort Listeners Bulletin of the FEDERACHI (without forgetting the invaluable contribution of compatriot Francisco Rodriguez "Frecuencia RM" , but who issues from Russia, and with the backing of the giant that is "The Voice of Russia .) We also quite alone with this. And grandparents could only remember champion Magallanes Chile, and achieved thirties struggling to recall his tenure in the Libertadores Cup in 1985, and to hear about "short wave" can we get some remember " Listen Chile " (where he worked our National Prize for Literature in 2006 , José Miguel Varas, who was remembered with a congratulatory two articles of his former colleagues from The Voice of Russia for the occasion), and, hopefully, some grizzled gray or that has not lost a lot of memory can memories have more elderly, as The Season of Joy " (3) or the classic called " This is the BBC ". The rest, as well as those who believe that in Chile there are only two or three pictures of football, we look with amazement. The situation of global broadcasters not help us. English has been left by many, as Radio Sweden or Deutsche Welle, of which no memory is almost that, not long ago, filled the air for a few minutes in our language, across the Atlantic. For others, like Radio France International ceased to be important to convey on this side of the world. Others, like the BBC have lost interest in contact with shortwave listeners and other media have bet, preferring other forms of dissemination and maintaining a minimal presence on shortwave in our language, like the Voice of America . Economic motives also urges these companions of the air, and not long ago we saw with regret the departure of the air always friendly (and ephemeral) Radio Slovakia International. missing who have not seen this medium always save on meager resources, and moved her (4) even when they know that their audience is often decrease (5). The religious stations, and isolated examples such as the Voice of Turkey (which only broadcasts in English for Europe yet) and reborn International Channel Radio Nacional de Venezuela , give some hope, along with the handful of OC Latin American issuers, both large organizations (the most obvious example is Radio Havana Cuba ) and those that remain small in these waves because they are the best way to spread their media. The future gives us some hope, as the Digital Radio Mondiale that promise to re-ignite a long radio broadcasts distances. We hope that the promise does not end up disappointed as to the carabelesros Company, and is the support we need. However, in this scenario, listeners Creoles do what we can do better. Invent time to give to these distant voices and hear them. We sent emails and letters all over the world with the sole purpose of saying "we have heard, their work has meaning." We listen to each service that threatens to close, and we rejoice in every language that manages to wrest a few dollars more to the budget to stay in the air ... And if only it can do, then we can say one last thing. In our efforts to listen, we as "band aid" we will play until the match is over. We will continue to waves and radios as they follow their team even plays in a pasture. And although there was no further radio on shortwave, and they would put their shirts and would come to Pichanga as most fans, maybe some of us would throw a pass as Europeans did when the state had a monopoly on emissions. Listeners are not dead, and I hope not to hear the day when the air runs out kilohertcios. (1): On average, about four hundred spectators to their home games. (2): Although it is worth noting that the "colleague" Hector Pino is working to reverse this situation. (3): Veteran program of the Dutch station Radio Netherlands Worldwide . (4): Radio Moldova International, and soon, Public Radio of Armenia (5): See the following article from the former Radio Tashkent International, entitled "We loose Our listeners": http : / / ino.uzpak.uz / eng / letters_eng / letters_eng.htm Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
is different at night ... I thought so, while marred by the car window in which I was sliding Rear seat every now and then, watching the silhouettes of the hills and trees that night despite what sounded familiar, and is not the first nor the last to go through the Autopista del Sol, that brings me more than a loved and remembered. But long ago, specifically from the Melipilla Sports game with the University of Concepción, which did not make the trip to hours as night, with the shadows of the poplars and the mountains I see in the light of the moon low clouds allowed to pass. All because it was necessary, and necessary and pure impulse and heart, things I usually do not have, but sometimes I have, I went in unplanned trip to the neighboring province aboard an old Carica of Tasacoop standing by giving the seat to a lady who would Malloco, humming old songs Imagine Radio Romantic watching it was good, and even the silence of the villages with mud houses and dark streets and paths that when I smile day and I usually tend to return the gesture, could instill fear had to prove it or feel it. There are things more important than the return, even when it is dark, you do not get used or travel or night life, well-lit buses caterpillar with white bulbs have made him lose the other means of transportation, and other soil ghosts beat with songs like "All My Loving" and kind thoughts. Fortunately, I had to go back on a bus with sign "Highway", but in the order of the kind parents of Miss Lucy, thinking of how different it is night, how different the way, and those places where the taste of my mouth and my thoughts are not equal to forty miles to the east. Greetings SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
Sleep (in) quiet ... It's staying up late at night, wasting time and by using the remote control trying to find something on television at times when there's only sports and reruns of movies that nobody cares, no is something rare. Especially in my case. And sometimes you encounter strange things. Once, for example, ended up watching "Master of Puppets II: Revenge of Coulon." Unforgettable movie. Of course this time I had something that, seen from a certain point of view, could be worse. Cable Channel 13 in a micro-space is called "Live and Remember", where small recall reports "the year of the pear." Soil run into stories of our years of dictatorship, and this time was no exception. Bored with National Geographic Channel, passing by the previously mentioned channels when I stumbled on the screen with a known (and criticized) TV reporter who now works at another channel, hair with more color, and doing a story at night. Their goal: Cover a night patrol of the Special Forces of Carabineros. If they are seeing with the eyes of today these "special forces" would laugh, with their baggy uniforms, their belts similar to that of my coat, a rifle of the year of Cocoa Raff, and a helmet, perhaps the only thing more "modern." (And up there, could that have been the balance of the First World War) A platoon leader with lenses "poto bottle" and scowl was given the task of explaining in detail the weapons platoon and what held during the night. For some inexplicable reason trotted out in the bus, carrying as well as men with explosives, a few old rifles, a machine gun and a generator that had more equipment painted those old tube radios for something else. Of course, these "dedicated fighters against terrorism, which looked after the dream capital" (I invented the phrase) is not encountered more risks than a couple partying did not want to sleep and apologized profusely, and almost in tears to see twenty-armed police at the door, and a car coming from the maternity ward had left a mother. Anyway, between the dark and old image, the faces of few friends, and what you imagine that happening in operations not so kind or television as shown, the note gave the sordid affair. So better to sleep. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
