ADOBE Y TIERRA ALIGERADA / ESTEPA

 

 

 

¿T_a_c?

 



hoy suena en mi habitación: widowspeak / in the pines (en) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXtwa_IQ3t8 / a l@s profes

TALLER DE COCINA / BIZCOCHO DE CIRUELA Y MANZANA

 

 

 

En la cocina de la Ángeles las sorpresas siempre tienen cabida. El otro día, a la Angelines; una de sus hijas, se le ocurrió hacer un bizcocho para aprovechar el calor remanente del horno de leña; ése que cada mañana, mi abuela enciende para enfrentarse al frío que acompaña sus despertares durante buena parte del año.

 

Sin dudarlo, mi tía Rosa, que también andaba por allí, cogió un cuchillo y empezó a pelar y trocear las manzanas que había sobre la mesa.

 

Álvaro, mi primo pequeño, - ya no tan pequeño -, fue el encargado de tomar notas y apuntar la receta y éste fue el resultado...

 

De aquel bizcocho, estas notas fueron lo único que quedó sobre la mesa...

 

; )

 

 

RECETA PARA UN BIZCOCHO DE CIRUELA Y MANZANA

Ingredientes:

3 huevos

1 yogur natural

2 yogures (medida) de azúcar

3 yogures de harina

1 sobre de levadura

1 yogur de aceite

3 manzanas

1 puñado de ciruelas

(Como medida de referencia tomamos el vaso del yogur)

Útiles de cocina:

1 bol (capacidad 5 litros / mezclado)

1 cuchillo plano (para pelar y trocear las manzanas)

1 batidor (manual) o batidora (eléctrica)

1 cucharilla (para el yogur)

1 lengua (de plástico u otro material)

1 trapo de cocina y un rollo de papel (limpieza)

Pasos:

Como paso previo, atizaremos bien el fuego; con suficiente antelación para precalentar el horno y dejaremos todos los ingredientes y útiles a mano

01.- Pelar y trocear las manzanas

02.- Batir los huevos con el azúcar en un bol

03.- Añadir el aceite, los yogures y por último, el harina

04.- Batir todo (mezclar)

05.- Añadir la manzana pelada y picada en dados (troceada en pequeños cubitos)

06.- Rayar la piel de ½ naranja y/o 1 limón

07.- Disponer papel de horno sobre la bandeja, untarlo de aceite y verter la masa sobre él

08.- Hornear

09.- …

10.- Presentar y a la mesa…justo para el café

# notas de la jefa de cocina…

Se puede sustituir una parte de harina por otra de almendra rayada (intercambiar un vaso por otro) En total; la elaboración de la receta, incluido el horneado, se lleva alrededor de una hora

hoy suena en mi habitación: angel´s song / soledad vélez (en) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9BiUO9Sy7w

BESOZ BESO DE MANO EN MANO

Hace un par de meses; por casualidad, se me ocurrió abrir el cajón de la mesa de la cocina de mi abuela Ángeles. Empecé a rebuscar entre la hojarasca de corchos y papeles de periódico que cubría su fondo y entonces...; la ví, seguía allí, después de tanto tiempo. Tantos años después; aquella pelota de cuero negro y costura blanca con la que tantas y tantas veces había visto jugar a los vecinos en el frontón, al Andrés, al Beto, a mi primo Carlos; el bicho, y también a mis tíos; el Óscar y el Jose; el moto... En fin , tanta y tanta gente; tantas y tantas manos,  tantos y tantos tantos...

 

(...) Cuando mi tío Jose se fue de casa, - a eso de los 30 y tantos -, a mi abuelo Maxi le dio por hacer limpieza en la cochera. Cogió su vieja bicicleta de carreras, - una bonita Orbea blanca-, y la tiró al contenedor; algo resentido, quizás pensando que su hijo no les echaría de menos; ni a la bicicleta ni a él...

El abuelo nunca imaginaría hasta qué punto se equivocaba... Tod@s en casa le echamos de menos; - aunque tampoco estoy seguro de que se pueda echar de menos a alguien que nunca terminó de irse-.

Lo de la bici; afortunadamente, tiene solución. Aquella msima mañana le pregunté a mi padre si podía quedármela y él me respondió que sí. Entonces la rescatamos del contenedor y la llevamos con nosotros. Los radios de las ruedas se habían destensado algo pero todavía podía arreglarse...

En la misma cochera, entre los bártulos del abuelo, olvidada en una de aquellas improvisadas estanterías de tabla, tras un tarro de cristal, había una pelota cubierta de polvo. Descubrirla fue toda una sorpresa; acababa de encontrar un tesoro. Recuerdo que la cogí con ambas manos, que estuve jugando con ella un rato y después la escondí en aquel cajón, lejos de cualquier pronto del abuelo, de cualquier arrebato que pudiera dar con ella en otro lugar...

Es curioso; de niño apenas acertaba a cogerla con las dos manos y  ahora; a eso de los 30 y tantos,  me parece hasta pequeña.

...

Con cariño, en agradecimiento a todas esas manos, que se dejaron (se dejan) la piel en el frontón, no sólo en el de piedra; sino tambíén en el del trabajo de la fábrica, ése que día tras día, pelotazo tras pelotazo, curtió (curte) las manos de tantos; y entre es@s tant@s, las de mi abuelo

NO al expolio de todo una vida de esfuerzo y ahorro

NO a los deshaucios

...

Podéis ayudarme a sacar del cajón aquella pelota haciendo click aquí  http://es.scribd.com/doc/130914255/Besoz-Beso-de-Mano-en-Mano , contribuyendo de una manera u otra a sacar adelante su edición

; )

rubén lagunas tello

lateru82@hotmail.com

...

hoy suena en mi habitación: cmon talk / bernhoft (en) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjEsAEsYCw4 / gracias a tod@s los que me están apoyando en esta aventura "de bolsillo"
 

OVERDRAFTing

 

 

 

 

What ´s what?

 

(...) I arrived here, once more, in search off life, looking for a proper job in order to earn my own bread, tired of seaking offers and promises of a better future from the screen of my laptop.

London / Londons?

I ´ll show you just one of mines, one of all those London(s) I´ ve meet; the Tube City, an underground CITY, - just in case my words could be useful for you -.

(...) Like everywhere, any good morning will cost u no less than 1.30 cp (1.50 € aprox), the minimum price of a warm cup of tea (English or not) at the coffee shop

Sometimes, when  you are abroad, you start to feal alone, I mean, inside of you, the solitude starts to settle and the only thing that keep moving you is that feeling; that feed-back of the warm hand-shake of other sights like yours. It is incredible, but any smile can becomes the best candle when the temperatures outside, in the gray streets, go down furthen than 0 ºC.

Anyway; it does not matter, after all, if you are ready to lean out through this window… just keep reading, have a look (probably you will recognize your own city in this big CITY; sometimes no big enough)

It might  be the right time to confront the truth...

 

I had just some coins into my pocket; I was in red numbers… I felt so little, so stupid, like an idiot…

What happens when the numbers of your bank account run more than you can, when that last coin runs and goes down the hill of the week faster than you do? How to get there before than your own money does…?

Whose, whome is money? To who belongs money?

Fortunately or not, money does not belong to me, I do think; - I do think so, now I realize…-.

Cash just flow, never stays in the same pocket for longer, or at least, not in mine (no in one´s jacket pocket)…

 

It must be said that this is just my own view, my personal version of the film…

Homes, shops, petrol stations, pharmacies, industry, banks, government... Who do you think they belong to...?

(...) I still can remember how happy I felt when at the end, after several tries, a couple of years ago, I was able to open my first bank account. At that moment I thought that things will be easier to me…

That morning, hardly several hours after setting foot onto the City I went to one of the cash-machines located into the train station, but then, it happens to me something that I never had expected…

What on hell... ? What are you talking to me...?

Red numbers...?

I could not see the scape from the situation I was involved…

It seems that they ("my" bank) had sent me several letters, but because I was living there for no more, I could not listen what they had to tell me…

Honestly, It was something quite unfair from them

“My” bank…? Ja, ja… - please, do not make me laugh...-

The bank, it might be better said.

There are (there were) too many things unread in the back of my credit card, things I never could have imagined, things that could have blown my future project…

So…; are u ready to play? Do you want to know who ´s who in this storie?

I am not sure about it, but…

(...) Fortunately there is always somebody else willing to give u a hand, just in the opposite (back) side of the coin; and I must say that; in my case, my personal situation, it was the director of one the bank offices, someone who was quite helpful, enough pacient with my broken English and really empathetic the person who showed me the options and steps to follow to deal the situation, some of the know-hows of the trade…

Why should I…? - I asked him for the reason I should pay -.

You know, It is not affordable to me right now…

For some reason, I ignore it, I trusted him and I did things in the way I was told. Finally, after several calls (by phone) I could solve the problem by borrowing some money from my parents.

May be I should not have done it, but I did it, and now, I am feeling much more safe and better, in the sense that there is nobody waiting for me to get paid, but I will promise myself to give them the money back.

Once more, here we are, learning by making mistakes; although I can say that at least, this time, that was a different mistake…

The director was talking about another branches...

Other branches…? What does it means...?

External Agency (FBI?)

I understood no word except that they had charged to the amount of money that I “due” to “my” bank an extra fee of 30 pounds

Thanks?

No jokes with these gentlemens…

Where is the last ring of these chaine…?

I ll tell u; in the back of any restaurant, in the deep of a darken avenue, somewhere, in the city you are living, under a mountain of cupboards, empties and rubbish, waiting to be taken away by the truck in the night...

I do not like the way banks are making up their own counts

Making money from what? From nothing…? What for…? Who is taking advantage of this? And finally, just one more question… Does money exists…?

 

Thoughts from a newcomer in what it is used to be called “real life”… - I do apologize if this reading is being boring to you-.

 

I am quite concerned about it, so... Where do we go from here…?

The secrets of the trade…?

That was a crazy sort of “dot to dot” puzzle; the business net where I get trapped.

After I left that bank office, by the way, while I was walking to find this no-where to ask for that external agency, a pencil from the pocket of a pretty woman felt on the pavement and then I took it to give it back to her…

(...) You have to be sharp, like the tip of that pencil when moving there, they don’t care about people wellbeing, they are there just for making more money, you are just a number else on anywhere…

Who is taken advantage of it making profit from that?

Money is not created from NOTHING…

Please, say NO to abuse from banks. Never ever again.

Stop it; claim, fight for your rights like I am doing here, just by raising my voice and sharing this words

Take your time to read all the information that they provide to you when you open your bank account ("basic" or whatever other sort of…)

Too many people is making money from your work, please if possible, do not feed their ass…

“free cash…”? What does it mean?

 

No idea. Anyway; NO, thanks

; )

Money does not grow up in trees, you will need to keep this in your mind to survive in the CITY.

Anyway, I will make it better next time; I have learned the lesson (too expensive, may be)

...

Because I spent all the money I had saved during the last year, I decided to go back home for Christmas…

I made a kind of winter postcard with my hands, just by using the cupboard empties…

Talking to myself… Why not?

My travel in numbers was awful, but nevertheless, I must say, It was really worthy; not just because I ve closed my “overdraft” story, but because I could meet up with my old friends, and also with an earthen architect, an eco-architect who has been working in the field of strawbale building and mud-staff for many years. Perhaps I had the chance to work closer to her and learn from her life-experience…

There is always time for a last cup of tea

I was laying when I told that It cost 1,50 - life is much more...-

...

Back again...
 

My room was exactly as it was when I left home, fortunately my parents had keep taken care of both; my room and me...

I can feel lucky to have their hands behind me, supporting my adventures...

Just say thank you both, dad and mum, by writing this. I know it is not what you were expecting but...
 

With love, myself and I; your son

rbn

…

Knowledge is

of two things

we know a subject

ourselves, or

we know where

we can find

information on it

- Samuel Johnson –

British Library façade (Euston Road, London)

To my reader

Please ask always advice to someone else before taking any step that can change your life

Take it easy

; )

rbn

 

...

 

Today in my room: you will never know / imany (en) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FTBLVEPEys /  To my friends, in thanks for your hospitality and warm welcoming / 5 handwriting pens = 1 pound (1£; one sterling)