De Argentina supe por El Ché, como todos los niños que nacieron en Cuba después de 1959. Su imagen "santificada" es tan familiar entre nosotros como la de Martí y está presente en la vida cada cubano. Nos enseñaron a amarlo y a imitarlo.
Algo que siempre me llamó la atención fue el acento de los argentinos que los distingue del resto de los latinoamericanos. Hoy sé que no es más que el resultado de una mezcla fascinante de la lengua española, la inmigración europea (Italia principalmente) y la creatividad propia del argentino, creando una lengua fuerte, expresiva y llena de personalidad.
Greetings, hivers. Welcome to my blog. I've been wanting to publish in this community for a long time, and today, I finally decide to present myself to you.
I first learned about Argentina through Che, like all children born in Cuba after 1959. His "sanctified" image is as familiar to us as that of Martí and is present in the life of every Cuban. We were taught to love him and to imitate him.
Something that always caught my attention was the accent of Argentines, which distinguishes them from the rest of Latin Americans. Today I know it's nothing more than the result of a fascinating mix of the Spanish language, European immigration (mainly Italian) and the innate creativity of Argentines, creating a strong, expressive language full of personality.
Son muchas las razones que me conducen a Argentina. Me enamoré de ella cuando, de adolescente, escuché los famosos tangos de Gardel y vi las películas donde él era protagonista. También vi muchos filmes donde la protagonista era Libertad La Marque. Un filme que no olvido fue el de la vida Gardel, con su partida temprana y su trágica muerte. Gardel dejó un legado indeleble, una impronta que sigue hasta hoy en mí y en muchos cubanos. ¿Quién no tararea el estribillo de aquellas canciones?...Es un soplo la vida, veinte años es nada...; ...El día que me quieras...
As a little girl, I used to play with my sister, pretending to talk like that, with that peculiar and characteristic way of dragging the 'Y' and saying 'vos' and 'sos' instead of 'tú' and 'eres'. We laughed a lot during those conversations and games, using words that no other Latin American uses, like: Che; Boludo/a (a word with a thousand nuances—it can be a grave insult, but also a term of endearment among friends, equivalent to "dude" or "bro," everything depends on the context and tone in which it's used); Pibe/a and Guita. I admit she was better at it, but being the younger sister, I never liked to lose (typical of younger siblings).
There are many reasons that draw me to Argentina. I fell in love with it when, as a teenager, I heard the famous tangos of Gardel and saw the movies where he was the protagonist. I also saw many films where the star was Libertad Lamarque. One film I never forgot was the one about Gardel's life, with his early departure and his tragic death. Gardel left an indelible legacy, an imprint that remains with me and many Cubans to this day. Who doesn't hum the refrain of those songs?... "Es un soplo la vida, veinte años es nada..."; ..."El día que me quieras"...
And what can I say about the current Argentine cinema, so real and wonderful. I have seen many Argentine films, but I would certainly watch again one that was shown at the Havana International Film Festival a couple of years ago, I think. It's "La odisea de los giles," a film to laugh at the absurd and to reflect on the truths of society.
Another thing I really enjoy is the Argentine sense of humor. Shows like "No toca botón" and "Poné a Franchela" were received in Cuba with great success. And it's that so many of their gags made even the most serious person laugh heartily. I had moments where I literally peed myself laughing. Others I always enjoyed were "Los Lutiers" with their fine and intelligent humor.
A veces me imagino llegando a Buenos Aires en un invierno lluvioso, con bufanda y botines, con una maleta medio vacía y una inquietud que no se nombrar. A veces se me antoja pensar que las noches de Buenos Aires tienen un ritmo que se adhiere a la piel junto al eco de un bandoneón. A veces pienso que si en verdad existe la reencarnación, en alguna vida pasada yo debí ser argentina y bailadora de tango, me encanta el tango, hasta recibí clases en mi época de 20 años. En alguna parte leí una frase que decía que "el tango no se baila, se susurra", y que es un baile tan intimo y sensual que parece que quienes lo bailan hacen el amor. Con el tiempo he descubierto que este país no oculta sus heridas, sino que las convierte en música.
Then there are the Argentine writers, whom I discovered later, like Jorge Luis Borges, Abelardo Castillo, and Julio Cortázar. I've read something from all three and I recognize that my writing has influences from them. The Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo also played a part in my feelings towards Argentina. Every time I heard their testimonies and sufferings, my heart tightened, and it still does. And after I read this book, my empathy and solidarity for them grew.
Sometimes I imagine arriving in Buenos Aires on a rainy winter day, with a scarf and boots, with a half-empty suitcase and a restlessness I cannot name. Sometimes I like to think that Buenos Aires nights have a rhythm that clings to your skin along with the echo of a bandoneón. Sometimes I think that if reincarnation truly exists, in some past life I must have been Argentine and a tango dancer. I love tango; I even took classes when I was in my twenties. Somewhere I read a phrase that said "tango is not danced, it is whispered," and that it is such an intimate and sensual dance that it seems as if those who dance it are making love. Over time, I have discovered that this country does not hide its wounds; instead, it turns them into music.
And when someone asks me why I like Argentina, I tell them it's because of everything I've seen and read, because it is a country of contrasts, of burning passions and caressing nostalgias. A country where silence has an echo and where solitude can be perfect company. Meanwhile, I remain here, writing my dream in tango ink. Loving Argentina is not a choice; it is a destiny I weave into my soul because belonging to a place is not about flags, but about shared heartbeats.
Gracias por visitar mi blog
Texto e imágenes de mi propiedad
Thanks to visite my blog
Text and imagen are my own
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