Category Archives: General

Royale with cheese

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Dear friends, the muses have left me. I desperately want to continue the conversation with you all, but I am not finding it easy to convey anything today. I have started at least three different topics and I can’t crystalize anything genuine about them. I want to tell you about the meaning of dancing in my life, as suggested by my dear friend Lina. I want to write about Latin America too. My friend Jose Plata is an inspiration. He writes the most amazing chronicles about his travels.

I want to write about Hong Kong, a place in which I strangely felt at home and that may have changed after the turmoil. I want to pay tribute to Santiago, another place that may be unrecognizable, and which I remember with unbound appreciation and love. I want to share my excitement and anxiety about work. I want to talk about women at work. And here I am, unable to devote my 400 words at a time to any of these cherished ideas.

Writers’ block was one of the most distressing and recurrent afflictions I experienced while I was writing my dissertation. I remember the horror of writing the first sentence. I remember writing and rewriting the same paragraph over and over. Before going through that experience, I didn’t understand the genius idea of an outline. I felt uncomfortable writing sections and preferred torturing myself trying to develop full drafts from the start, revising over and over each line until it was perfect. Of course, it was never perfect. It was a waste of time, but I couldn’t help it.

I am glad the dissertation process taught me to accept that if you are stuck on something you can move to something else and get back to it in due course. So instead of punishing myself for my lack of inspiration, I acknowledge the impasse and ask for your indulgence.

Before we all forget about them, what did you think about the Oscars? For the first time in years I saw most of the nominated films. I loved “Once upon a time in Hollywood”. I was deeply moved by “Joker”. I was mostly revolted by “Parasite”. “Marriage story” made me reflect about parenting. Which one did you like best? Did you feel like me that Tarantino should have won Best Director? Was Pulp Fiction a defining movie for you and your friends like it was for mine? Did you look for Ezekiel 25 17? I did.

Bogotá

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There are so many preconceptions about Bogotá. The city I grew up in the 1970s and 1980s was a city in which at 12 I could go to a movie with a friend and walk back home without worries. Granted, the theater was half a block from home, but still, it didn’t feel unsafe. I am sure that big battles against drug cartels and the like were being fought somewhere but I was never aware of them. That changed in the 1990s, as Michael Palin reflected in Full Circle, or perhaps I just became more aware of danger when my hippo-campus finally developed.

I recently visited again after a few years away and the feeling was that of a city inundated with cars, many of them connected to the sharing economy, and one in which those displaced from the war were finally assimilated, while the newcomers were families from Venezuela asking for food in the street. I think safety considerations have eased up or they all just got used to living with heightened precautions and smog.

Bogotá is also a city that just elected the first woman for mayor and has a Salsa al Parque and Rock al Parque music festivals. It is a city of graffiti accepted as art and great artists and museums. It is a city of magical mountains and epic restaurants that would rival any in the island I now call home. In just a week I enjoyed fusion food and muddled wine at a new brewery at Parque 93, Italians at Calle 85, Zona Rosa and in the middle of a traditional market and French at the old center of the city. Of course, the best food was at home, where my mother delighted us with a Bandeja Paisa and an Ajiaco that brought infinite memories and comfort.

It is a city I love. And I would love it anyway no matter what because my family and dear friends are there. Yet, as Mercedes Sosa says, “uno vuelve siempre a los viejos sitios donde amó la vida y entonces comprende cómo están de ausentes las cosas queridas”, which may simply mean that longing for going back is not really an option. So here it is, my tribute to Bogotá, the city that embraced me at birth, made me the resilient person I believe I am, and now welcomes me with open heart when I visit. Thank you.

Check @1538crea for Bogotá memorabilia

Clarity

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I have noticed that, occasionally and without any free-will, there are days in which everything is clear.  Today is one of those days. Matters that have been bothering me suddenly have a new light, a new prism. Little and big things that I couldn’t do for weeks are suddenly accomplished. I am decisive, assertive and calm. There is no urgency or anxiety. Oh, how much I wish these days would come more frequently or I could do something to summon them. Does it happen to you? Or am I just delirious again?

My husband says that I am a half-full glass kind of person. Well, in days like today I am a glass-full person. In fact, it feels so good that the water may be overflowing while I look for a bigger glass. Music resonates. The same playlist is somehow more enjoyable. You get my drift. It is a good day. Not that things have been bad recently, really. This website has been an amazing Christmas present that keeps on giving. Receiving comments and starting conversations with you has been exhilarating. Yet, I really needed one of these days precisely now.

You see, there are changes happening at work, and it is hard not to be anxious about them. It is a futile exercise to even think about them, I know, especially because nothing really depends on me. But that is human nature for you. Today I woke up with one word in my mind. Well, two in reality: Patience and clarity. I guess after my dissertation got done, I have been waiting for my life to change. And it has, everywhere but at work. True, I feel more confident on my abilities as an economist. After all I am a now a scholar in full gown. Yet, my day to day activities are basically the same.

While an external change would be welcome, I can also change myself. I can take on more responsibility. I can be more assertive. I can move forward with my vision for the future. While I am writing this, I am already thinking about the days in which clarity will be absent, and I see myself re-reading this as a reminder, a totem to move forward. Now I must move on and use this energy while it lasts to go over my to-do lists and who knows, even maybe finally clean my room.

Trading places

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There are some movies that I can watch again and again. Trading places (1983) is one of them. It is funny and witty. Murphy and Aykroyd at their best. It is also such a perfect description of the disconnect between rich and poor and the unfairness of it all. Without money, opportunities are scarce. With money, compassion is scarce. I guess since then I can’t help but associate trading with playing with other peoples’ lives, privilege and ruthlessness. Wall Street was never for me.

While the craziness of the financial exchanges of the 1980s has been replaced by algorithms and instant electronic trading, the forces behind the stock markets remain oblivious to the realities of most people in the world. And those are not the only economic forces that seem to be inclined towards increasing inequality between the privileged few and the rest. I am not sure where we are headed but I sure hope it stops before we become a real-life version of the Hunger Games (2012), or of Black Mirror (2011) for that matter.

In the meantime, and going back to more mundane thoughts, I must report that my household has fallen under a strong streptococcus strain. Fever and malaise have been the order of the last three days and I am patiently waiting to see if I am the next to fall. My throat already hurts, but I still hope I can skip the torture of chills and aches.

As nurse on call I have had a lot of time to kill and I must confess that I broke one of my New Years’ resolutions. After 23 days of resistance, I couldn’t help but go back to playing card games on my phone. It was glorious. I still forced myself to play the daily challenge only, instead of spending way too much time most days like I did last year. I also enjoyed a big plate of fried rice.

After months of limiting my intake of carbs, as suggested by a genetic test to improve my health, I have been giving myself the permission of enjoying comfort food here and there. See, I am convinced that our bodies crave balance and that is why plateaus are not the scary monster that diet books may suggest. After a lot of yo-yo dieting, I have discovered that giving my body the chance to get used to a new level, before trying to achieve the next, works better for me. So here I am, and I am honestly enjoying it.

To be or not to be

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When I was pregnant, I received innumerable pieces of advice. A recurrent one was to speak to my child in Spanish so that she would be bilingual from the start. It didn’t happen. I missed one important part of the advice: you must create a relationship with your child in that language. Maybe it only happens to me, but once I establish a friendship with someone in one language, it is quite awkward to jump to another language, and my relationship with my daughter developed in the language of Shakespeare.

True, I spoke to her in Spanish as much as I could, but only sporadically as the rest of the family speaks English and it was a bit too much for me to change back and forth. I read to her in Spanish, translating all her children books, which doesn’t necessarily result in fun reading. At some point, I realized I had missed the window. While she will learn Spanish at school, I hope she also creates a lot of relationships in that language. I went to a French school and I was good at it. I had a great accent and passed the Baccalaureate. But without friends or family to practice with, it didn’t become an integral part of me the way that English has. And how not? Listening to my daughter recite “To be or not to be” with an English accent is delightful. I feel pride and love that filter through my whole being.

I have been trying to recover French for a while now. I changed my phone system to French, I read books, I speak to anyone who can bear the awkward pauses while I look for a word that only comes to my mind in another language. I sang along San Francisco today in front of my surprised daughter.  I think I should get to a class if only to hopefully meet someone who can be my friend in French. Any takers?

I guess the main barrier with language, at least for me, is to be palpably aware of the many mistakes I make, even if only in terms of accent. My daughter and hubby find some of them hilarious. That was why I avoided social situations in English when I arrived in the US and I guess that is why I hesitate so much in French these days. I must go over my self-consciousness and just focus on what I want to say. I am sensing a pattern here. Maybe life is just about persistently try to do what you want to do, despite your own insecurities. Is this something everybody goes through? Or mostly women?

Changes

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Adapting is perhaps one of the most important skills in life. At least it has been for me. I have been thrown into thorny situations, as much as anybody else has I guess, and without adapting skills I could have been seriously broken. Yet, I survived and thrived and at this point I welcome change and challenges. The question is, how did I acquire those skills? Can you learn to adapt without going through hardship? Or, more importantly, how will my daughter be able to face adversity and adapt without going through a somewhat difficult childhood? I hear horror stories about kids that go to college and commit suicide because it is their first experience with rejection and failure. And yet, I would do anything in my power to protect her from any real suffering. How can I not? What would you do?

Anyway, just yesterday I was thinking about how different this January has been for me. It is the first January without a dissertation to write, and somehow it feels very empty. As work slows down a bit during the holiday season, I used to devote this precious time year after year to advance on my research. I guess I somehow miss that urgency. And it is not the first time I look back at Dissertation times with nostalgia. Am I insane???? I recently reread my first posts and they candidly show that the experience was mostly excruciating for me… dark times. I felt insecure, tired, overwhelmed. Yet, I guess I adapted to it and now I guess I miss it.

The change of all changes is getting old. And adapting to ageing is something not everybody does gracefully. I still feel like an adolescent sometimes and refuse to let that feeling go. A decade ago, crossing Central Park on my scooter used to be one of my favourite activities.  Today,  it sits in my closet.  I frequently look at it with the conviction that I will use it again someday. I may. I am not afraid of embarrassment and I could still do it and enjoy it. Yet, that day hasn’t come… Come to think of it, it may not be about ageing after all. My relationship with physical exercise has been an erratic and mostly uncommitted one.  I go from one extreme to the other.  When I first moved into our building, I went to the downstairs gym  everyday.  That lasted a month, and I haven’t used it since. Same with yoga, Pilates, swimming, running, etc… I only hope taekwondo doesn’t join the list too soon. I am going to my second class this week…

These days…

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I love writing. That is a sentence that I wouldn’t have expected to ever mean. And yet I do. Another sentence I never thought I would ever say (or anybody who knows me in the real world) is “I like Taekwondo”. Life surprises you. I love that.

I went to a self-defence class, just because it was free, convenient and sometimes I walk my dog late at night in NYC. It was an intense experience. The idea was to find our voices and be able to say No. It was weird for most of the ladies in the class. I guess women are socialized to be of service and thus saying no without an apology is very alien to us. Or perhaps it is a generational thing. My daughter says No with a naturality that drives me crazy sometimes. Anyway, the person organizing the class also does Taekwondo classes, so I gave it a try. It was exhilarating. I had so much fun kicking and punching and the workout was good too, at least judging by the pain I felt over the next days. I will go back for sure!

Another thing that is very alien to me, but that I am trying to embrace is that of letting go of things. My office is moving to flexible space and that means that I need to bring home all my belongings. And those are many. They include the many books I have gotten over the years, animal figurines from my trips and many other miscellaneous, known as “tchotchkes” around here. This means that I need to have space at home for them. And that is the problem. I have very little space. Manhattan is a dream island, but clearly not because of the size of the apartments. I was thinking about that when, to my surprise the former Minister of Finance of Colombia mentioned Marie Kondo’s Netflix show in his blog. I must tell you: the method to store clothes like triangles is lifechanging!

But throwing out books is something completely different. How can I know if a book means joy for me if I have never opened it? The fact that I have never opened it is reason enough to throw it out? What if I got it overseas? What if it is a collection of more than 30 economics books that my grandfather gave to me AFTER I graduated from college?

I am struggling, as you can see. Bear with me.

The Roaring 20s

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I have decided to tackle the 2020s as they come. Or better yet, as I perceive them. I have great hopes for them, at least in my own small village of family and friends, as I am finally free of pending lists and bad feelings. I intend to use this page to reflect on the news, the music I listen to, the books I read, family life and, why not, even economics. I may not write frequently, but when I do, I hope it is entertaining enough to find readers that may feel curious enough to come back for more.

You can go your own way! Go your own way.

I have been thinking a lot about parenting. My daughter is the most amazing person I have ever met. I guess most parents of my generation or younger generations feel like that about their children. Still, my main thought is how to provide her with all the strength she will need to face the vicissitudes of life. At the end of the roaring 2020’s she will be an adult. I remember telling her years ago that if she would remember something I ever said, I wish it was that she ought to love herself and that she should conquer her fears so that they don’t keep her prisoner. I think she loves herself. And I see her facing her fears in ways that I am not sure I ever did. Still, it is a journey and I am sure I will write more about this soon enough.

My previous adventures in writing were so enjoyable. Writing about why I couldn’t progress on my dissertation and then finally writing my dissertation were both life-changing. I only hope these new adventures in writing will be worth something too.

Welcome to the roaring 2020s!

Data

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I thought everything would be a breeze after submitting the draft. And, in many ways, it has been. I have internalized that perhaps I do have something to contribute to the debate, after all… More importantly, I have internalized that the way that I am framing that contribution in writing is acceptable for graduating. Yay!!! That is an amazing feeling. A big party is definitely coming around May next year…

Between now and then I must still think a lot, read a lot and write a lot. I also need to master the data. Oh, the data… what a nightmare! During my almost 10-years break, the advances in computing and data visualization have been immense. One would think that that should be an advantage. Not so much… I has taken me over a year to realize that more than learning a new statistical package, I needed change my frame of mind when it comes to data.

I was so used to small yearly databases that I was basically trying to fit an XL sized database into an S sized t-shirt… like in real life, it just doesn’t work. And I was losing all the depth that justified using the database in the first place. Just last week the mental switch finally clicked and I am beginning to get some results!!

What is really pleasant about the timing of this is that, because data work is more repetition and trial and error than concentration, I can also follow the World Cup! Colombia had a great game on Sunday. It was EXHILARATING!.

My friends also convinced me to participate in a prediction game so, suddenly, I care about all the games! It is so so much fun, and a perfect complement to my world cup sticker album fun…which I finally completed!!!!

Mandalas

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I have rejected routines all my life. Perhaps because of a rebellious teen hood, it took me way too many years to get used to even the most benign routines, such as having a blissful breakfast every morning. The thing is, I was not exactly changing the world by not imitating the rules of my upbringing. I was only short-changing myself, especially by not enjoying a latte and croissant in the morning or the necessary coffee break in the afternoon…

What I find funny is that most of my hobbies have a heavy dose of routine in them. For example, I love completing the daily solitaire challenge. I also love filling up the World Cup sticker album every four years. I enjoy immensely exchanging stickers with friends and online, and filling and reviewing my list of missing and extra stickers.

As you can see, the pleasure of checking to-do lists is very close to my heart. This is not to say that I haven’t had more creative hobbies. One Christmas I made colorful necklaces for all my girlfriends. I think I may try that again soon, and this time with my daughter.

I also love coloring Mandalas, as you may have noticed. My beloved gave me a coloring book, way before coloring became such a frenzy. He just knew that I would be into it, and he was right. In addition, my job back then was quite stressful, so having a meditative outlet was crucial to my sanity. It still is.

As I think I have mentioned here before, it was coloring one evening that I decided to drop a dissertation topic that was clearly never going to get done. It came to me like an epiphany that unless I worked on something I was interested in or knew about, I would never finish my studies.

The next day I wrote to my advisor and set up a meeting. I was all excited, even considering writing a general book on primary commodities. My advisor gently brought me back to reality by noting that for a few years already, every December, I had come to him with a new big idea that unfortunately had yet to materialize. Smaller ideas would be more feasible, perhaps.

He also reminded me that I needed to follow the academic requirements of the dissertation. I could write a general book… any time… after graduation. I guess we will see about that.