Blog journey

I created this blog for the purpose of analyze different text in a different, deep, reading-the-subtext way. Throughout this blog journey I have written about me, my goals, different authors and even outside the classroom experiences we have had. I was really dubious about this project at first. I’m not the type of sharing my experiences in a blog type of guy. But it grows in you. At first, writing about me and my puertorricanness, I was shy, but being able to write about what I feel of my country and my traditions was kind of satisfying. Then to judge the tone of Carl Jung, I had to deepen my thoughts to get a glance of what he might’ve felt in that strange country and to connect his feeling to mine, at the other side of the globe. Seeing different aspects of life as perception of self, identity and the sense of belonging in my own life, I was able to understand how Naipaul brought novel characteristics to his life and how it was relatable to the Puertorican culture in which this is very common. But the turning point, as I called the post, of the blog writing came with the autobiography project in which I had the opportunity to talk about something that happened to me that I had never told anyone. Opening up that space enlightened what writing was for me and made it something more than just putting up words to finish the job.  To conclude this transformative journey through a blog we could see how it feels to be othered by being tourists of some sort, getting to feel the other side of the culture we live in and reinforcing the perception of self we might’ve had. Writing about something more than books opened a different window in my perception of writing, I hope you enjoyed the ride.

A tourist in my own country

            As a part of an assignment to see the way people treat and see tourist I thought it would be interesting if I could actually be a tourist in some place in my own country. This led me to an Indian restaurant in Old San Juan called Pani Agua. What I think is the tourist factor here is that the people that manages the restaurant are in fact Indian, excluding the wife of the owner. But in this way I found a way to be looked at differently, to be “outside my country” while in Old San Juan.

Source

            With this line of thought I went out to be a tourist. When we sat down to look at the food, my Friends and I looked at the menu so confused, the names where Indian and we didn’t know what to get. The waiter recommended the special of the day so that’s what we chose. When the food came, the chicken was in a green thick sauce which made us make weird looks at the food but not on a bad way. At the end everything was delicious. Very hot and spicy food, characteristic of Indian food, and this is said by someone who loves spicy food.

            On the service part, everyone was very friendly and willing to explain the Indian language we did not get at first. The owner came to greet us and was very grateful were there. We even got a free shot, which made the tourist for a day assignment totally worth it.

Turning point

            I was born 21 years ago, third and unexpected child of a happy marriage.  Always hyperactive and problematic, smiling and smart. A great student but mischievous all the way to college. Not caring what others think, living in a bubble thinking nothing bad could happen that would destroy this marvelous place I’ve created for myself. “While I have my family and friends, nothing can affect me” I thought.

            As a tradition, me and my family have a family reunion every Thursday at my grandma house, Abuela chispa. It was the longest living family tradition I can remember, turned my Thursdays in these family time that we, not caring what could be happening in the world, would see each other and catch up on everything. As a child I thought of it as a time for me and my cousins to get together and play, but later on it became the center of communication. Abuela chispa would make a whole caldero de arroz con salchichas y chuletas (rice with sausages and pork chops) and turned the radio oro radio station on so we could hear music she grew up with as Titi Evelyn, the crazy aunt and Mami danced with her and told us the daily stories. Everyone would laugh and have a good time for a couple of hours.

            Everything seemed nice, ups and downs but life seemed great. My perspective about life changed the day I was told that my grandmother had Alzheimer’s disease, one dark, cloudy day, to complement the cliché of the sad news. I never thought something like that could happen to my family. “What would that mean for my family? what’s happening to abuela?” I started asking to myself as I neglected that my world was being affected.

            Abuela started to change and our family Thursdays were changing to. She started to forget people, songs, locations, family, starting from the most distant related ones. Soon enough Abuelo Chispo took over cooking and sooner than one could think Abuela Chispa would start segregating from us, getting distant, hallucinating, in short she was getting much worse.  Some Thursdays we wouldn’t meet because she had an appointment. Another cloudy Thursday, as if my life was a continuous cliché, we gathered as usual. “Did you eat already?” she asked for the millionth time as she sat and mumbled while I opened the windows she closed for no reason. “I’m going to eat now” I said while we gathered in the dining room with mami and titi Evelyn. “What a pretty boy isn’t he?” said Titi Evelyn, just like her mother” said Mami, “do you know her?” Abuela Chispa glanced and laugh, meaning she didn’t have answer. I sat and eat the day Abuela stop recognizing me.