jueves, 25 de octubre de 2012

A few last words...

...antes de partir.

London: T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U.

I'm overwhelmed and can't truly express all the feelings I'm having right now. It all seems too much to handle. I will miss you, like I've probably never missed anything or anyone in my life. Hoping to come back to you one day. With all my love


martes, 25 de septiembre de 2012


The night I arrived in London was pretty emotional and eventful. Not only was I scared and confused with the whole 'deciding to move countries in ONE week' thing, but I was also tired from the journey. I didn't know my way around and had no clue where I was going to live. I only had a little paper with an address, and carried 3 gigantic bags around the tube as gracefully (sense the irony) as possible.

I have this tradition every time I arrive in a new country for a longish stay in which I basically wonder who will be the very first person I get to meet upon arrival. After we meet, I label them as 'the first person I met when I first arrived in ______(insert place here).'

London wasn't the exception. When I got to McMillan Student Village at 23:30, the person I first met was this cute little teenager sitting on a chair with the biggest grin on his face. I thought: 'There you are! Oficially 'First person I meet when I first arrived in LONDON!!'... Little did I know I was going to end up dating the little fellow some time after that (It wasn't ilegal anymore I swear!).

It had never happened to me before that the actual 'First person' person became someone of some importance during my stay at the given place. Normally the first person is the most random, nothing-in-common-individual you'll ever meet, but with whom you become friends due to the lack of acquaintances or internet.

To make it better, the day I arrived was the 'teenager boy's' birthday (his 10th bday or something haha), and after that it was pretty easy for me to keep remembering the date.

It's now 00:39, and as I was procastinating on facebook (I know!) I happened to see that today, September the 26th, it's his birthday, so I immediately realised I have been in this country for THREE WHOLE MINDBLOWING YEARS!!

I now need to get back to my pre-scheduled Skype date with a friend and maybe later post on C's wall. But this post HAD to be written since I needed to both commemorate my time in this beautiful country, and also accept the fact that my journey here is now coming to an end.

Happy birthday C, and happy english birthday to me!!

lunes, 24 de septiembre de 2012

And here's my first music video!!

It seems like a bit more than the back of my head made it into the video after all...

Let's see if you can find me!


lunes, 23 de julio de 2012

The day I performed in my first music video

We had SO much fun tonight!

Our agent put us up for a David Garrett video. For those who don't know, he is a famous german violinist who does covers of well known singles.

Today he was shooting the video for his Coldplay cover.

We basically had to dance and jump to the rhythm of the violin version of 'Viva La Vida'.

On top of it, we got to throw loads of powder paint all over the place. It was surreal.

Apart from the fact that we had to swallow a bit of the powder and get it out of our eyes - it sounds awful but it wasn't as much - it was a great opportunity to vent all possible life struggles!

We were all in black, against a huge green screen that covered pretty much the whole studio. We had our hands full with all these bright coloured powders, and then threw it at each other. 

Marval moment: A big chunk of colour powder fell into my eyes the minute the camera was doing a close up of my face, so naturally I couldn't open them. THE moment to shine was gone before I could get rid of it, but with a bit of luck maybe the back of my head will appear in the clip.


domingo, 22 de julio de 2012

Mesonera Estrella

I've tried to find someone to blame, someone to hold responsible for being miserable day in and out for quite a while now. And after much thought and consideration I've concluded that it's Mater's fault.

You see, Mater Salvatoris is the girls academy that shaped me for more than a decade. I entered it when I was 4 and left when I was 17. My mum went there, I went there, and my future daughter was meant to go there - or so I'd always pictured.

And this is exactly what the problem is. I had - and still have - a picture of how my life was supposed to turn out, an ambition that has not yet been fulfilled. Mater girls are overachievers, queens of their own worlds, warriors.

I've managed to achieve several personal and professional goals, specially in the past 3 years, and yet I stand today, at 26, unable to shake the feeling that life is not going the way I want it to. My biggest commitment is to myself, and at the moment I feel like a major let down.

For starters, my life plan did not include waiting the tables of annoying drunk men after obtaining not just one, but two BA degrees. Neither I expected Mr. Cameron to decide I was not entitled to a work permit after graduation - one would think that 3 years and £45,000 in tuition later such right would be granted, but, hey, 'immigrant' and 'right' are two words that don't seem to go together in this government -

Doing a job for which I hold no passion whatsoever kills my spirit every passing night and it's affected my overall mood. I can definitely say I'm no fun to be around these days and I've become this joyless shadow that I don't care for.

I will never be able to fully express how difficult it really is to be an expat. To have the desire to triumph in a country that does not want YOU in it, and will make sure to reinforce that message through all possible legal obstacles.

This country I keep trying to hold on to does not want my hard work, on the contrary it wants to do without me. It is a nasty case of unrequited love.

And like in every other love story, there's a third party. Someone willing to open his arms and offer me the possibility to lead a semi-happier life. Unfortunately, this is someone who I cannot help to dismiss - at least 'for now' -.

And that is Venezuela. The place that gives me an identity and a name. But also the place that cannot currently provide elemental life conditions; freedom, justice and life itself.

The place that desperately needs my voice is the place I choose to deny it to.

Is being a waitress in London truly best than being a customer in Venezuela?