I dreamed of you, Nepal

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“We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that... And yet it all seems limitless.”  The Sheltering Sky. Paul Bowles.   -I am taking holidays for India. Holidays Read more [...]

How difficult is to love an Israeli soldier

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  To him He combs my hair in such a soft way, so soft, so softly that I could keep writing during all these paragraphs “soft” and, not even like that, I would be able to describe how soft he does it. Like if my hair could really hurt me. I think is unbelievable that such a big hand can do something so delicate. And, while he’s doing it, I think is unbelievable that with that same hand with which he so gently caresses my hair with a simple comb, he can also shoot a rifle. A hand Read more [...]

Losing the fear of being a woman: 8 tips for solo women travelers in India

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8 tips for solo women travelers in India This post is dedicated to my July-25th-2013-me and to all the women who forgot to put inside their backpack their fears, so they could travel lighter, far away, as far as they wanted to go. “Boluda, you don’t know how it is! It drives you crazy ...It's a mess, it’s a mess! Good we didn’t go there as backpackers, because I swear we would be dead. I tell you one thing: the woman who makes India on a backpack deserves my whole admiration.” A Read more [...]

I never stay because no one ever says “stay”

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Legend has it that a few years ago, a group of spinsters friends and I (likely, the most spinster of all), met on February 14th to go to a bar and drink some beers of spite. Right: don’t judge us. Whoever who hasn’t got drunk to the rhythm of Franco de Vita, Alejandro Sanz or, in the worst case, Paquita la del Barrio, may cast the first stone. Oh well, maybe you can judge us a little bit: in our purses, besides the make- up kit (my friends), the cigarettes (me) and the cellphone (all) to delight Read more [...]

One day baby we’ll be old and think about the stories that we could have told…

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Like a mantra, it fell down from the radio into Miguel's car (my Spanish friend, who gives me a ride to Munich airport so I can catch the flight to Delhi); the song says the same over and over again: One day baby we'll be old and think about the stories that we could have told... That passion for collecting stories. For collecting memories, since from memories is what life is made of: memories. We naively think that life is made out of present, when as a matter of fact it's made out of past. The Read more [...]