Manhattan....

Today I went to Manhattan. The city is always moving and it is always wonderful to walk around and find so much culture, so much movement, so much color and so much diversity. It doesn't bother me; maybe because I don;t go over there so often.
This time I think that I have the right and obligation to post this blog and pour down my impressions about this particular day.
I had to take my niece and her baby to the city, because she wanted to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The weather could not have been better, the baby was unusually pleasant (one year olds cry and get upset easily), and the Long Island Railroad trip ran very smoothly, and on time. We had a quick lunch in one of those "delis" that offer all kinds of stuff...sandwiches, salads, wraps, and pastries. Since their opening, it's getting easier to have a nice, inexpensive stroll through Manhattan, because you don't have to spend a fortune to please your visitors ( I have to tell you that I am somewhat thrifty). 
After looking at some art work offered by the street vendors which stand in front of the museum, we carried the stroller up the stairs....so colorful! People are seating on the stairs...some eating, others having intelectual discussions, others taking pictures.  After checking the Egyptian, Chinese, Indian and Japanese art exhibits, getting some souvenirs, and after looking at the wonderful Picasso collection, which made me change my mind about cubism and "modern art", we had to leave, because it was closing time.
Because the baby had been so well behaved today, we decided to take him to one of the playgrounds in Central Park, and that is were our Via Crucis started!!!  He couldn't get enough of the swings and the slides and kids playing around...Two chinese babies looked so cute buckled to the baby swings!  And their moms seemed to be enjoying more than them the slight impulse while they pushed them...
We got a case of ""delirium tremens", but were able to drag him from there.
We decided to get into the bus, to do some real sightseeing as we headed to Penn Station to take the train back home. The stroller was packed with baby needs, some souvenirs and my pocketbook. The lady driver let us in and warned us about keeping the carriage as far away from the aisle as posible.  A big lady frowned her face and started mumbling about her tax money and about the millions that the city spends for a safe environment, and here we are, violating codes and endangering people (maybe she thought we were illegal aliens).  As the bus reached 34th Street and 5th Avenue, we were already exhausted and the baby, sleeping.  We started our way down very carefully, but my inexperienced niece, after asking for help (which was never offered or given to her), lost control of the stroller and the baby fell on his face with her by the side. I got so frightened and couldn't stop thinking about the face of satisfaction of the big lady inside the bus...who now was going to make her point clear!!! Fortunately, nothing more happened, and things did not go further than a big scare for the bus rider, ourselves and the remorseful indifferent "help deniers".  I was thinking about all the ifs of the world and how lucky we were. The little boy was so surprised, that he only cried for a block or so, until we reached the final bus to Penn Station.  We arrived just on time for the 7.08pm train to Long Island.  My feet were pounding and I was extremely tired after all this stair climbing and descending with the heavy carriage. Mommy was carrying her baby this time.
Finally we were in the train.  Baby got impatient and went under the seat. He started shrieking as the train started rolling..you could hear an indistinct "sshhh"from everywhere. He got his security blanket and held to his mom, and that was the end of them for a while.  So I decided to talk to my friend on the phone. Not two minutes had gone by, when the guy who collects the tickets came by and told me at "point blank"" that I had to stop talking on the phone, because everybody was complaining about how loud I was speaking.  Bullshit!!! Everybody was talking with their families on the phone, and everybody was talking to their friends!  And my voice was lower than theirs. I never felt so violated of my rights. and so I informed the guy. 
These incidents: the mean commentary of the big lady in the bus, and this last happening lead  me to think two things: either we live in a very neurotic, intolerant, indifferent society, or we are facing a serious case of disgusting racism, because I was talking in Spanish.  Or could it be, that people tend to eavesdrop and hear each other's conversations, and I guess I was not letting them entertain themselves, because they couldn't understand me?  I think that our society has not changed...that they like to justify and blame their frustrations in minorities, but they don't realize that all of them have been foreigners at some point in their lives; they don't realize that by making these differences, by desintegrating our society, they are caving their way in a hole of deception, hate, and disunion...where they will perish and never surge again!!!  Stop!!!

Beethovens 5th as salsa arrangement: Sverre Indris Joner

Incredible arrangement for Bethov's 5th.  Worth watching!!!!!

Quinoa...Quinua is the original name.

Quinua o Kinwa (a quechua word) is a food plant which belongs to the species Chenopodium Quinoa.  Its origin is traced to the peruvian highlands in the vicinity of Lake Titicaca, from where it spread all over South America.  It grows at altitudes of 12,000 feet over the sea level and tolerates cold weather very well .
Archeological findings lead us to assert that this plant was used as a food source by civilizations which flourished as far as 5000 years ago.  The chroniclers talk about this product and its uses by the indians, since they arrived to America.  Garcilazo de la Vega, our mestizo chronicler and son of a spanish captain and an Inca princess, tells us that quinua occupied the second place among the Andean grains in the diet of the Incas and it was widely cultivated in their territory.
Its flower is formed by pearly clusters which resemble rice and which is the main source of its food.  They also ate the leaves in their stews, since they considered it very tasty. They also made beverages with the grain.
Quinua is an excelent source of proteins, aminoacids, Vitamins C and E  phosphorus, potassium, magnesium  and calcium.  It has no cholesterol and is gluten free and non allergic. 
Quinua has great antinflamatory and healing properties and can be used as a great desinfectant of the urinal tract. For those people that are allergic to milk , this product is an excelent substitute as a calcium source. Since it is a leafy grain and doesn't belong to the grass family, it can be tolerated by people who are allergic to grains like wheat ot barley.
Quinua is used to prepare casseroles, soups, breads and beverages, and there are many recipes for its preparation.
The saponin or soapy layer which covers the grains, was used by the Incas to wash their clothes; that is why it is recommended to wash the grains three or four times before cooking them, to take away the bitter taste.
The quinua or so called "golden grain of the incas", continues conquering the international markets, due to its great nutritional value. There has been a steady rise of exports and according to ADEX, there has been a growth of 78% in exports, from January to October of last year; considerably higher than in previous years. United States concentrates 45% of imports of this product. Israel, Germany and Ecuador are also strong importers.  In 2009, Peru was exporting this product to 29 countries.
Having all this said, I thought it would be of wonderful taste, to provide my readers with an excellent recipe for Quinua.  Now, with all these fusion tendencies, Lima chefs in Perú are substituting the original recipes for others which integrate products which are original from this country. And so comes the Quinoto...a substitute of Rissotto, the originally Italian dish.

Quinoto
2 cups of well rinsed quinua (wash it until de liquid comes out clear)
1 cup of mushrooms (canned or fresh)
olive oil
Sazon Goya with zaffron
Annato powder
Salt and Pepper
1 big onion
1 tablespoon of garlic
I pound of cooked shrimp and reserve the water where it boiled
1 can of mushroom condensed soup
1 can of evaporated milk
1/2 cup of white wine
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese.

 After rinsing the quinua three of four times, until de water comes out clear, boil the quinua for 7 to 9 minutes until it is cooked "al dente". Reserve.
Cook powdered annato in 1/3 cup olive oil and fry in this pan the onion and garlic, until clear, but not toasted.  Add and slightly fry the shrimp and mushrooms.
Add the quinua and mix well. 
Add one cup of the shrimp water, one can of evaporated milk, the wine, and the mushroom soup. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add the parmesan cheese.
Mix carefully with a wooden spoon and when it gets the consistency of a loose puree, turn off the heat.  If it's to dense, just add more shrimp water.   Make sure that you don't overcook the shrimp.  You can add chicken or a seafood mixture, instead of the shrimp.  Serve inmediately!!!

El tiempo es hoy - Beds are burning - Tck Tck Tck (justicia climática)

Conferencia de la ONU sobre Cambio Climático, Copenhagen, Diciembre 2009

Giovanni: Historia de un Pandillero

GIOVANNI: HISTORIA DE UN PANDILLERO

La historia que sigue, es la vida de un muchacho perteneciente a una de las pandillas delictivas existentes en la ciudad de Lima; de aquellas que surgen en los barrios marginales y cuyas características son las mismas que se presentan en la mayor parte de los países latinoamericanos con alto índice de subdesarrollo y conflicto social. Es una historia escrita de puño y letra de Giovanni, un muchacho que se liga a la pandilla por las mismas razones por las que se unen la mayor parte de aquellos jóvenes: por dejar de lado la soledad y falta de ubicación en cuanto a su rol dentro de la sociedad , producto de hogares destruidos por la pobreza y violencia familiar; por el deseo de “protección” para él y su familia, en el diario transcurrir de su vida en los cinturones de miseria; y por la desorientación, propia de los adolescentes, que los hace tomar decisiones inmaduras y violentas para solucionar la problemática de su diario vivir. Es la historia de las pandillas juveniles formadas al margen de aquellas puramente criminales; de aquellas que surgen en ámbitos que son meramente producto de hogares destruidos, o en los cuales la violencia familiar es el pan de cada día, y los jóvenes inadaptados que viven dentro de estas esferas, toman una actitud de rechazo. Las “pandillas pobres” tienen características parecidas, pero su “miseria” es otra…quizás más desesperada… y la mayor parte de veces, de difícil solución. Le presento a Giovanni:

Mi nombre es Giovanni Pérez (nombre ficticio para proteger a la persona involucrada). Desde pequeño, a la edad de 8 años, observaba un enfrentamiento entre mi papá y mi mamá; me escondía y lloraba porque no podía defender a mi mamá.
Un pastor se le acercó a mi hermana; y junto con sus amigos, fuimos invitados a una Iglesia Evangelista. Mi familia y yo asistimos a la Iglesia por mucho tiempo, mostrando un cambio en nuestras vidas. Hasta que llegó un problema con mi papá porque había perdido su trabajo. Mi mama encontró un trabajo que nos cambió la vida a toda mi familia. Mi mamá venía sólo algunos días a casa. Con su ausencia nos sentíamos diferentes; tal vez no recibíamos mucho cariño y amor de parte de ella. Uno por uno nos alejamos de la Iglesia; sólo mi hermana Malena seguía asistiendo. Pero todo era diferente.
A los once años estaba en sexto grado de primaria. Saliendo del colegio observaba enfrentamientos entre pandillas que utilizaban armas de fuego, como pistolas.
A los 12 años estaba en primero de secundaria y estudiaba en un colegio que en esa zona eran de la barra de la “U” (un equipo de fútbol: Universitario de Deportes). Los estudiantes se juntaban a la salida de clases con los de la barra de la “U” para ir a otro colegio y buscar enfrentamientos. Llego un día en que me comencé a juntar con ellos y participaba en los enfrentamientos, donde fue la primera vez que agarré un machete. Siempre llegaba tarde a mi casa, alrededor de la cual también había enfrentamientos entre pandillas, pero no participaba en ellas.
Llegué al tercer año; y recién mis padres tristes por esto, me cambiaron de colegio. Teniendo, entonces, 15 años, me comencé a juntar con las malas juntas que había dentro y fuera del colegio, que pertenecían a la barra del “Cristal” (otro equipo de fútbol). Observé que a la hora del recreo, estudiantes de otras aulas se reunían en mi salón, que era el último del pabellón, y se drogaban. Un día de esos probé la mariguana, pero no me hizo ningún efecto. Paraba con ellos y participaba en los enfrentamientos entre colegios. En uno de esos mataron a mi amigo con un desarmador que tenía punta; que le fue incrustado en la espalda. Nadie lo abandonó en ese momento, pero ya había perdido mucha sangre y murió. Me enfrenté con muchos colegios; hasta con mi ex colegio. Siempre salía con heridas en el cuerpo, pero seguía participando a pesar de eso. En el barrio donde vivía comencé a participar en los enfrentamientos que eran mucho más violentos, porque utilizaban muchas armas; hasta incluso explosivos que te podían volar una parte de tu cuerpo. Estas peleas eran intensas, ya que duraban más de una hora. La policía, ya harta de esto, ya no tenía compasión y golpeaban a los que agarraban; incluso tiraban balazos al cuerpo. Mi hermana Malena era la que más se preocupaba por mí. Cada vez que había una pelea no le importaba si le sucedía algo, pero me sacaba como sea. Llorando me pedía que me deje de eso porque tenia miedo a que me mataran. Estuve a punto de perder la pierna, porque una bala se había incrustado en ella.
No pasó mucho tiempo, y por la parte de atrás de mi barrio se aparecieron otras pandillas que nos querían matar; éramos 18 contra 50. Salí herido con un machetazo que recibí en la mano, pero sólo afecto un dedo que me habían cortado… Me amanecí ese día con mis primos, que también se metían en problemas. Dormí en el piso, y ensangrentando me levanté y mi hermana mayor me llevó al hospital a que me cosan el dedo, ya que lo podía perder por la sangre que había perdido, y porque por un lado ya estaba muerto.
Al poco tiempo me recuperé y mi amiga me presentó a una linda chica llamada Boni. Sabiendo que ella también quería estar conmigo, le pedí para estar con ella. Pasamos muchas cosas juntos, pero no sabía que le hacía daño(a ella) al meterme en peleas. Ella se ponía muy preocupada por mí. Me dí cuenta de que me quería, cuando me sacó de un enfrentamiento en el que estaban utilizando armas de fuego. Cada vez que Boni lloraba me destrozaba por completo.
Hoy, ya tengo 16 años, y estoy afrontando un problema con mis padres, ya que ellos creen que estoy metido en drogas. En un examen salió que me drogaba; incluso que era un adicto…pero no es así. Confundido, y con pocas esperanzas de que mis padres me crean, no sé que hacer, y tengo miedo de que me internen en un centro para chicos con problemas de drogas y pandillaje, y salir peor. Sé que voy a salir de estos problemas porque no quiero acabar con una bala en la cabeza y que por mi culpa mi familia siga sufriendo.
Todo en mi barrio esta muy movido, ya que herimos de bala a dos de otra pandilla, y en cualquier momento se pueden vengar.
Ya no quiero meterme en más problemas, porque quiero ser alguien en la vida, para que mis padres se sientan orgullosos de mí. Sé que es difícil salir de algo en que por mucho tiempo estás metido…pero eso no es imposible. (Esto fue enteramente redactado por él)
Por su madre, sé que Giovanni ha amenazado con suicidarse, porque se siente un estorbo para su familia. Por otro lado, los de la pandilla lo tienen amenazado de muerte a él y a sus hermanas. El padre ha tomado otro rumbo y deja abandonados a los hijos y no ayuda con el sustento de su familia. La madre ha optado por mudarse con sus hijos a un barrio menos poblado y peligroso y ha hecho una serie de gestiones para obtener consejería para su hijo, utilizando los servicios que ofrece el sector público. Por otro lado, gracias a sus gestiones, el muchacho ha encontrado trabajo temporal en la “parada” (mercado central) y ella está tratando de internarlo, con el asentimiento del joven, en una institución que proporciona servicios de rehabilitación a pirañitas y a muchachos pandilleros que quieran internarse. En este caso, podría darse una solución, ya que uno de los padres es consciente de su rol como progenitor, pero corrientemente la gente de su barrio es derrotista y de escasa educación, y no buscan recursos para salir adelante.
El mundo de la violencia, producto de la zozobra social, de la pobreza, de la mala canalización de las frustraciones de un individuo, de la insuficiente atención de organizaciones de ayuda a estos sujetos desadaptados, va haciéndose más fuerte cada día, y amenaza con extenderse cada vez más por las ciudades. La droga, que al principio comenzó como diversión de muchachos inmaduros (y festín de los contrabandistas de aquella, que aprovechando su ignorancia, los sumergen en su submundo), se convierte en el refugio de aquellos; allí donde olvidan sus frustraciones; allí donde no recuerdan que son difíciles sus esperanzas de un mundo mejor.
Es indispensable que se creen centros en los que no se busque el castigo, sino la rehabilitación de estos individuos, para que se conviertan en futuros educadores de aquellos que todavía siguen por la ruta de la violencia; para que de primera mano les sepan explicar la diferencia entre la vida que viven y un mundo en el que se le abran las oportunidades de una vida mejor para ellos y sus familias a través del aprendizaje de oficios rentables. Hay que favorecer inversiones públicas y privadas y la formación de organizaciones sin lucro que busquen mejorar los recursos socio-económicos de las comunidades y la adquisición de servicios públicos que les permitan llevar una vida más digna. Hay que hacer un hincapié en la necesidad de destinar un mayor presupuesto a los programas de educación formal y a aquellos que se concentren en detectar y tratar de solucionar los problemas que llevan a la deserción escolar.
Los jóvenes se deben de tornar en agentes activos en los procesos de toma de decisión, de cambio positivo y de desarrollo de la sociedad.
La juventud es el futuro del mañana, y si crece torcida, nuestro futuro estará amenazado.

Lucia Newton de Valdivieso

God vs.Science

I decided to post this blog because this is one of the smartest answers about God's existence.  Even to non-believers, the unbelievable explanation of a human being about God's creation leaves us numb.. I am so glad I received this e-mail  and read it carefully!  Please try to pay attention while you read it.  It is worth taking your invaluable time to do so.



'Let me explain the problem science has with religion.'

The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand. 'You're a Christian, aren't you, son?'

'Yes sir,' the student says.

'So you believe in God?'

'Absolutely. '

'Is God good?'

'Sure! God's good.'

'Is God all-powerful? Can God do anything?'

'Yes'

'Are you good or evil?'

'The Bible says I'm evil.'

The professor grins knowingly. 'Aha! The Bible! He considers for a moment. 'Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?'

'Yes sir, I would.'

'So you're good...!'

'I wouldn't say that.'

'But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't.'

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. 'He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Can you answer that one?'

The student remains silent. 'No, you can't, can you?' the professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give the student time to relax 'Let's start again, young fella. Is God good?'

'Er..yes,' the student says.

'Is Satan good?'

The student doesn't hesitate on this one. 'No.'

'Then where does Satan come from?'

The student falters. 'From God'

'That's right. God made Satan, didn't he? Tell me, son. Is there evil in this world?'

'Yes, sir..'

'Evil's everywhere, isn't it? And God did make everything, correct?'

'Yes'

'So who created evil?' The professor continued, 'If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.'

Again, the student has no answer. 'Is there sickness? Immorality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in this world?'

The student squirms on his feet. 'Yes.'

'So who created them?'

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats his question. 'Who created them?' There is still no answer. Suddenly the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. 'Tell me,' he continues onto another student. 'Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?'

The student's voice betrays him and cracks. 'Yes, professor, I do.'

The old man stops pacing. 'Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?'

'No sir. I've never seen Him.'

'Then tell us if you've ever heard your Jesus?'

'No, sir, I have not..'

'Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?'

'No, sir, I'm afraid I haven't.'

'Yet you still believe in him?'

'Yes'

'According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God doesn't exist... What do you say to that, son?'

'Nothing,' the student replies.. 'I only have my faith.'

'Yes, faith,' the professor repeats. 'And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.'

The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of His own. 'Professor, is there such thing as heat? '

' Yes.

'And is there such a thing as cold?'

'Yes, son, there's cold too.'

'No sir, there isn't.'

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. 'You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, a little heat or no heat, but we don't have anything called 'cold'. We can hit d own to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can't go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest -458 degrees. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-458 F) is the total absence of heat. You see, sir, cold is only a word we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.'

Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

'What about darkness, professor. Is there such a thing as darkness?'

'Yes,' the professor replies without hesitation.. 'What is night if it isn't darkness?'

'You're wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it's called darkness, isn't it? That's the meaning we use to define the word. In reality, darkness isn't. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn't you?'

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. 'So what point are you making, young man?'

'Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start with, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.'

The professor's face cannot hide his surprise this time. 'Flawed? Can you explain how?'

'You are working on the premise of duality,' the student explains.. 'You argue that there is life and then there's death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure. Sir, science can't even explain a thought.' 'It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never seen, much less fully understood either one. To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.' 'Now tell me, professor.. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey?'

'If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, yes, of course I do.'

'Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?'

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester, indeed.

'Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an on-going endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?'

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided. 'To continue the point you were making earlier to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.' The student looks around the room. 'Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor's brain?' The class breaks out into laughter. 'Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor's brain, felt the professor's brain, touched or smelt the professor's brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir.' 'So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?'

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable. Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. 'I Guess you'll have to take them on faith.'

'Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life,' the student continues. 'Now, sir, is there such a thing as evil?' Now uncertain, the professor responds, 'Of course, there is. We see it Everyday. It is in the daily example of man's inhumanity to man. It is in The multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.'

To this the student replied, 'Evil does not exist sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.'

The professor sat down.

If you read it all the way through and had a smile on your face when you finished, mail to your friends and family with the title 'God vs. Science'

PS: the student was Albert Einstein

Albert Einstein wrote a book titled God vs. Science in 1921

VOTED_THE_BEST_EMAIL_OF_THIS_YEAR.PPS

When you think that life is ending for you...when you think that you don't have enough of life's gifts....when you wish you had more...when you think that you always have to get your ways...when you think revenge is the answer...when you think you have seen it all...when you think everybody offends you and you are alone....always watch this wonderful e-mail which reminds us of how complaining doesn't get us anywhere and that there are always people who are less fortunate than us. Let's help those ones!!!!


VOTED_THE_BEST_EMAIL_OF_THIS_YEAR.PPS