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That trip was marked by two accidents. In just three days of stay I found myself in any corner, the only person who knew (that know who deserves an encounter) throughout Santiago de Chile, and who had written an e-mail was just ten minutes after three years without doing it. The second person I met was a stranger. But how to find a stranger or, in any case, what is in a stranger? The man had just arrived to the cozy Hotel Opry and was assisted by a young man who seemed to have him more affection than respect. We separated the inner window glass that divides the restaurant and lobby for his small stature, could not even see the whole body. Only the neck, one chin in the neck, could be heard also the sound of a hoarse voice and jovial running through the glass hard. It was noticeable, moreover, certain parsimony in their movements.

did not recognize at once, but bit by bit, and while with his poet-old steps at that time perhaps the most important living poet in Latin America, was on his way to the elevator, an emotion like that could raise the reading "Lighting" or that passage from "Letter to turn to ver "(" Do not forgive, understand, because I do not forgive, because the sea / beautiful-for-it does not spare the corpse and throws it rejects as useless manure. ") prevented me from reacting in time. When I finally said I looked for confirmation from occasional neighbors: "Look who's" I shaky voice, as if he were a ghost. I answered a voice jokingly: "Sartre"?! ". Could be, yes, but no.

Now, some days after his death on Monday because of a stroke, I discover, was the sailor's cap - "the limit of my conscience," say the Cervantes Literature Prize 2003 - so I decided to ask Gonzalo Rojas and propose an interview. It was he, however, he called and suggested to find the next day morning. Tasteful sat down to breakfast and talk loud to all that only the poetic word, which not lose the song "runaway can name: the very door of that trip, due to the impossibility or Kabbalah, returned to tell anyone. Thus, as speaking from the wilderness, like standing and on the other side to go through life backwards, looking for that child, that the poet as a symbol representing the horses, "this man who at more than 90 years living a "green", whipped up the talk to the voice of "breaking the game!".

How long have you screamed again?

live there. "Living" is a way of saying, but I live in south central. There are mountains. There is a river that passes by my house where I bath. I live there about 10 years since my last wife died, very pretty and intelligent.

But then you have not chosen by chance the same fate as that of their "characters" or "motives" poetic, as in "do you love when you love": I'm dying in this, oh God, this war / to go back and forth between them in the streets can not love / three hundred at a time, because I'm always condemned a, / to that one, that one you gave me in the old paradise.

No, this "one" has more of a symbolic and mythic buzz, but not sentimental about anything (not that my dance). What I have said is that the dead lived not love has to leave the planet by boredom and the burden that this occurs. People also believe, mistakenly, that I am a poet porn, but no. I like women and, of course, took off a couple of lines.

Have you worked with different materials and ideas poetic over his life?

I do not know. Maybe it's monotonous and obsessive I do not believe in the great development but also in the metamorphosis of the same. But a great poet whose name was [Caesar] Vallejo said, "there is no God or son of God, without development." Poetry is air and ventilation, but also human death, is open to any subject and, while limited.

Rojas calls for a stop for lunch, and eat with joy, with enthusiasm, without trouble. He is interested in the verses of this reporter, asks for his country and his stay in Santiago. The conversation leads, then, to philosophy.

From Nietzsche to Benjamin (great reader of Baudelaire) through Adorno and Heidegger (both "partners" by Paul Celan) have turned to poetry for answers to some fundamental questions ...

At least in the West, which is the world that we breathe, the reciprocal is also true. These Greek immortals, those who lived on the right side of the Mediterranean, have shown that the great thinkers and philosophers, poets were born at a time. Plato laughs and is angry with the poets, but in the end, he is a poet.

That means that poetry, like philosophy, has something to say also on the "materiality" that is indeed the world.

You know too well the answer is in your question. The philosophy and poetry keep the store, I would say Heidegger, who has made precious few notes on the musical genius called Hölderlin. A madman who died insane. Although madness is a controversial word. He lived on the banks of the Neckar River after writing all these wonders. And he was scorned by Goethe (what fun it all Right?).

What licenses, if any, are allowed after such a career?

I write "breathable." That is, you do not do with the air-not the gale, which is something completely different, "not dealing with anything in the world. The crying baby leaves the womb because of that virginal encounter with the air, in the same way that the creature dies, the young or the old man draws his last breath and the body and becomes dry.

Is the air, unlike other "elements" would be something that opens and cancels both a life as a poem?

I tell a story. When I returned home, after receiving Cervantes, while I was sleeping in my bed, single man, a bed of sticks that I love (it was July and it rained) occurred suddenly a greater setback: I came a kind of arponazo; the air was, and went in or out. I was dry docked in myself. I knew it was dangerous, was entering the realm of suffocation, which is a final kingdom. I jumped up and went to the bathroom cold water to throw me in the face. Had no effect. I did not think much, because you do not think at that moment reflectively. Then, back in the episode, which lasted as long as not to die, but almost, I rediscovered the wonder and the miracle of air. Poetry, as I like to say, is that discovery: air, air, air, a new air to breathe is less than to live it. That's the game of poetic language and living.

Mao How did you meet?

In 1949, when Mao took power, gave the most beautiful political will hear ever. Humbled by his soldiers, said: "The world must know that China, that is, a quarter of humanity, has set up and do not plan to prostrate to anyone anymore." Then, in the year 53, while in France, I remembered there was a Chilean painter living in China, Venturelli, and I sent a cable to get me a ticket. In Shanghai I discussed with local writers, without agreeing on whether literary thought the artist was born or was a social construction. For this discussion the night before my departure, I was permitted to see Mao.

How does the new poetry contemporary Latin American?

I see little but the smell better. From Mexico to Buenos Aires I see that poetry is alive. It is true that poetic thought is canceled. The boys have their light and are betting the game to breathe poetry.

published in www.revistaenie.clarin.com / literature / Gonzalo_Rojas

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The tragedy of Holy Wednesday in Caracas in 1902 and 1952.

Yerena Geronimo Cabrera
the cult of the Nazarene in St. Paul in the Basilica of Santa Teresa of our capital city, it is recalled mainly the tragedy on Wednesday saint, dated April 9, 1952. On many occasions has said that the only known incident since the Nazareno de San Pablo was that Wednesday is revered holy Holy Wednesday in 1902, fifty years ago, tragedy struck similar, but smaller proportions that of 1952.

The people of Caracas in the early twentieth century, remembered with fear the quake occurred at 4:42 a.m. on 29 October 1900, called San Simón, moreover, by the fact that a new earthquake has occurred on the morning of that day. At that time about 20 houses collapsed, and there were 21 dead and over 50 wounded. This kept the population with elevated mood, for this reason arrival Easter 1902, on Holy Wednesday, the Caracas took to make supplications to Nazareno de San Pablo.
The Basilica of Santa Teresa was full, when they celebrated the Mass, at 9 am, he suddenly heard a cry: "Mercy, earthquake! ". He was allegedly shot and a picture fell from the wall, someone mistook him for a nervous trembling immediately panicked, which caused an uproar suddenly, everyone wanted to leave at the same time, and a minute later there was nobody left in the temple, except a few wounded, not specified the exact number of deaths, it is true that there were. Comment

Jose Garcia de La Concha in his entertaining book Reminiscences life and customs of the old Caracas, the following: "In the church there is only the hill carpeted with umbrellas and parasols, skirts and shoes, and Andalusian carrieles and a lot of things. Many years later was a lady with the ear line and told us, dear, that was when Zaperoco de Santa Teresa "Trailer

the April 9, 1952, on Wednesday Santo, Santa Teresa.

From the morning of that day, the Basilica of Santa Teresa was packed with faithful, some doors were closed for repairs, Hortensio Monsignor Carrillo started the sacred offices, and suddenly, around dawn, he heard a voice: "Fire! "Then panic flooded in the audience, all tried, in a sudden and disorderly, where they could leave, with the aggravation of the confusion created by the obstacles on some of the outputs. Unexpectedly the crowd miraculously stopped and began to leave in an orderly fashion. In the tragedy there were 49 dead, including 24 minors, and hundreds injured. This memory still lingers
sadly all Caracas at the time, and its different versions it still transmitendo their offspring.

yerena.geronimo @ gmail.com

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What is the story of the seven dishes at Easter

The most important day of Holy Week, it was always at my house on Thursday. And it was by the "seven dishes."

What is it? For the meeting to the table at noon on Holy Thursday to share a lunch that should be served at least seven different preparations between sweet and savory. Simply an inheritance from my deep Andean roots.

fasting on the eve of Good Friday to commemorate the Last Supper was the practice in the nineteenth century held in the homes of more affluent families seven banquet dishes.

Throughout Thursday and Good Friday, because the Catholic ban on eating meat, in Tachira, especially in border areas, as in the department of Norte de Santander, in Colombia, it is customary to eat a series of preparations to commemorate the seven words spoken by Jesus before his death.

These "seven dishes', as they are called, consist of soup, rice, fish, pasta, salad (Carrot, onion, lettuce, beets), cake and sweet. Both

wealthier families as the most humble prepared in accordance with their capabilities, succulent feasts in as: meats, pigs, turkeys, lambs, chickens, fish, pickles, quesadillas and plenty of sweets. All these delicacies, called "seven dishes, in most cases consisted mainly of trout with salt canned pea soup served with rice, salad, boiled green bananas, fruit juice and fresh pumpkin.

Traditionally, eating seven dishes sure to have food and prosperity for all year.

Holy Thursday eaten seven beef dishes, chicken, turkey, goat, pig, duck and turtle eaten on Good Friday, seven dishes of fish, prawns and seafood.

Tube Taken from Venezuela [Venezuela News and Videos]

http://www.venetubo.com/noticias/% BF-What-is-the-history-of-the-seven-dishes-on-week -Santa - R24576.html

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MORROCOY CROSS IN THE

Jesus Alfaro Garantón llanera
The terrible habit of eating cake tortoise at Easter, a traditional image has been truly appalling. The Morrocoy (Goechelonia Carbonaria) is a sweet pet gently convivia in caracas old playgrounds of yesterday with the other animals and plants in the garden city dweller, is quiet and stealthy and yet is able to develop friendly ties with people in the house. My brother had a pair of tortoises at home that came out of the humidity in your den, they heard only the music and placed very close to the horns, staying there for hours until we ran out the sound.
In this Easter season, there is a tradition deeply rooted in the eastern and Venezuelan plains MORROCOY eat CAKE. Eastern
As good family in my house ate this dish in the Week. It is indeed a dish very bland flavor when ripe banana and ate a few pieces could be found in black leather with yellow flakes or truly obnoxious orange under the skin of the poor animal slaughtered. This happened during my childhood on several occasions.
Years passed and as a man, returning to Venezuela, I got a turtle and some older cousins \u200b\u200band very Eastern in its customs were offered to make a cake with that animal. I had no idea how was the thing, but after watching the ordeal, took away the desire to eat cake for the rest of my life.

As you prepare the cake morrocoy:
1 .- grabs the animal and was turned on its side
2 .- With an ax or chainsaw, it opens the shell, which bleeds the sides profusamenrte
3. - Start the animal from the rest of carapace, causing more bleeding
4 .- The bloody mess, where there are 4 black ducklings that move and a mouth constantly open, it launches into a pot of boiling water
5 .- The animal tried to swim in this water uselessly boiling during the first 30 minutes (amazingly the tortoise does not die until then, but has no vocal cords to scream people interpret it as no pain)
6 .- Once the animal kicks no more, left for several hours of cooking and add whatever you want and eat the delicacy, accompanied by a large amount of rum or beer consumed while waiting

So celebrate this "traditional practice" of Holy Week in our country.
In my house after seeing this show is not to eat the famous studded turtle and my mom "great Disposer" does the same, but changing the tortoise for meatloaf and is exquisite. Overall the tortoise does not know anything, it's like chayote, know what you put.
is that after this reading does not happen to them tortoise eat cake anymore and this is my contribution to the preservation of this beautiful and gentle creature of our plains and silent partner of many houses Venezuelan

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In one of the last dialogue of the film Egg of the snake , Ingmar Bergman pitched through Vergérus teacher's voice, an inveterate fascist, his disastrous prophecy of Nazi Germany: "And then there will be a revolution, and our world will sink in blood and fire. In 10 years, no more." Covered in clarity that sometimes gives the passage of time, masterfully portrayed the Europe of the interwar period, the decade of 20.

Just about the history of the shipwreck becomes L you lords of finance, Liaquat Ahamed, an investment consultant with a remarkable and unprecedented narrative and historiography available. The book is the story of what was originally deemed the apocalypse of Western society, the Great Depression. Driving a time frame that runs from the beginning of the First World War and the aftermath of the 40's, Ahamed tells the story of the Great Depression "above the shoulders" of those individuals who led central banks in the world when the crisis erupted.

is the former "world's most exclusive club" formed by Montagu Norman, "neurotic and enigmatic" by the Bank of England, the "xenophobic and suspicious" Émile Moreau de la Banque de France; the head of the Reichsbank, a "rigid and arrogant" Hjalmar Schacht, and in the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, Benjamin Strong, "under whose energetic and dynamic appearance hid a man injured and overwhelmed."

Four individuals who, however, charged today with a fundamental paradox and, perhaps, somewhat ironic: "There is something very poignant in the contrast between the power wielded a day for four men and its almost total disappearance of the pages of history. These four men were buried under the rubble of the time and now mean nothing to the majority. "

Thus, plunging into the shadows of oblivion, Ahamed is capturing the finer strands that make up the life of each of these individuals, lint that run from his family origins to the philandering and mania everywhere. In a way, The lords of finance is a sort of biography of four bands that slowly and almost by dint of fate, they begin to coalesce into a single story, one decade full of contradictions thundering booms and falls. So, as if it were a sounding board, the "shoulders" of these four individuals are opening "the story of the passage of the thunderous prosperity of the 20's to the Great Depression. "

However, it should be recognized that the interpretation of Ahamed to explain the debacle of the 20's, the double causal emphasizes treaty Versailles and return to the gold standard, lacks novelty. Several historians have proved the point. Hence appropriate to ask where is the novelty and merit of this book, moreover, was awarded the 2010 Pulitzer history.

First, it is a commendable narrative, capable of generating the illusory sensation, times elusive to historians of academia, in which the past is suspended into a kind of mind that is still open even to its many possibilities. Using these conspicuous characters, each in its own way opened the multiple dimensions of the future of that troubled era.

Ahamed But the bet is equally bold in the distance under the stories making anonymous, very of our time, to show a specific individual, fallible. A trifle? Not so much. We have become accustomed to a history of large masses, structures and processes in which the human being, specific individuals, they have no more than fulfill the role of spectator and notary. Literally, things happen, happen, we are or not.

In this, the counterpoint to Bergman is an illustrator: the Swedish film director used a perfectly insane and obvious evil to embody the ominous future, Liaquat Ahamed characters simply turned to human subjects ethical decisions in a given time, acted and missed. In the case of The lords of finance were four men "who ruined the world." Is it possible that a few, despite its enormous power and glory, to be able to break down supposedly intact foundations of a society? In short, can depend on the future of a society than a handful of people decided that we would have two hands?

Ahamed, with reliability, makes us think so, and firm belief that these were undermined bankers who, over a decade, the scaffolding capitalist. As recognized at the end of the book, the tsunami of misery that swept the world was not the work of "a mysterious and inexorable tectonic forces, much less a" contradiction rooted in capitalism. " Rather, the Great Depression was the "direct result of a series of misjudgments by those responsible for setting economic policy (...) the most dramatic series of collective blunders ever committed by senior financial officers.

Thus, the sin of dogmatism religious with the economists, yesterday and today, often coated, these characters were responsible for assuming the worst economic measure of all: the return of the gold standard.

Precisely, this is just by trouble with the book, leaves us with an orthodoxy that is not exclusive to these castaways history. Inside job , the documentary about the crisis of 2008 and which won an Oscar, goes to the same point. Both book and film, attacking from different angles and times, the orthodox economists, those principles that are presented as revealed truths. Yesterday was the gold standard. The chant of today, I think we know: deregulation at any cost. In short, this is a book to tell the arrogant idiocy of the past and that, however, serves as an antidote, or at least prophylaxis against this.

published in www.latercera.com/2011/04/10/01/contenido/cultura

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EASTER TRADITIONS IN MY TOWN IN EASTER

ANA CARVAJAL COROMOTO
not had a home in the village of Guasipati where not prepare the traditional cake Morrocoy, each family before reaching the Holy Week, and had booked at least four copies of the most robust Chelonia, which bred in their homes or captured in the nearby sheets after setting fire to the little creatures come out of hiding. Not having the above mentioned was a tragedy, so get it turned into a real mission, as they say now. The Morrocoy is still alive cooked, but before taking it to the pot had to get him out of his shell, was a task for men, because they had to have good biceps and a machete "afilao." What I liked most was the children egg layer that Morrocoy placed the cake to cover, remained toast and they thought a real delicacy. The cake had many escorts one of them was the sweet potato boñuelos once the ladies ready ready exchanged the dish to see which one tasted better. Some took pride in making the best cake Morrocoy, as it cooked in the shell itself Morrocoy.

Another very important tradition in those days, was the game of the screens and the top. The girls did shake up the town with great care drew him all the pulp to a gourd through a hole that pierced side, the drying in the sun and this was like a ball hard and tough, but empty, then placed him in long and half a stick sharpened at the lower end and was ready to dance or turn to it using a cord wrapped round the stick and threw the ring (ground) similar to what is done with the spin, those were dozens. The game was to turn the shaker for the kids with his spin destroy their humanity, ie the sieve. The top had to be well prepared, some had a huge size like a fist, but that does not mean they could reach the sieve, leaking naughty with their eternal dance. The girls just watched, had to wait to be older to participate, the game was on the street and ended when the boys with his spin had destroyed all the screens. The biggest affront to men was that they could not break or destroy the screens, in these cases left the game dejected, until the next day for revenge, the girls jumped for joy instead.

Sacred music coming from the flooded church all the people in those days (Thursday and Friday) inviting people to a true recollection. Nothing to go to the river, dance or play the tealight in those days. The whole town is devoted to recall the Week and participate in the procession on Thursday and Friday (with his best gala). On the road to Calvary in strategic places is improvised a painful season, stopped the pastor there to remember the suffering of Jesús.Todo that before coming to Calvary which was located on the outskirts of town. At night was the wake where the faithful gathered, there could take the famous caratillo (drink made of rice or corn and nail kind) who prepared the ladies of the town.

nights of Holy Week was a feast for the children (accompanied by their brothers or sisters) are delighted parapara playing a kind of metra, smaller and naturally, the fruit of the plant Paraparo (Sapindus Saponaria), black as night, they invent many games, "quiminduñe" opens his fist, even or odd ... The game was to gather as much afterbirth. Also rubbing to heat and throw their opponents, which were deftly evaded by children.

These were some of the traditions during Holy Week in the village.



Ana Carvajal

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ordinary human beings are a church where there is indeed a church. Depending on how they look, their discipline-specialized people highlights some elements: the architect, priest and engineer are the same thing with some exclusivity: each identifies a powerful presence beating their own particular topic or motif, his ghost. I speak here, of course, ideal types whose occupation does not exclude others.

However, the historian overlaps those ghosts. Where there is indeed a church, surely will see the old church and demolished, and in the same place occupied by the demolished church ghostly may see an old house whose foundations are barely registers, and if it goes beyond, perhaps know of a cemetery primitive without believing, of course, that the cemetery is all that actually exist and that, therefore, is a phantasmagoria but a phantom location (in this crude sense of the spiritualists, who, of course, is the reverse of phantasmagoria.) Thus, in the monumental and massive cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, you know the ghostly presence of the ancient Basilica of Saint-Etienne, check demolished in 1116 by the Bishop of Paris, and before it, the temple dedicated to Jupiter and even the altar of the Roman temple Celtic crushed. All these places are eerily superimposed on the historian's mind in the mind of the medium by which channeled knows best anthology of human experiences.

If the physical space excludes common sense by absurd objects simultaneously occupying the same space, the historian's mind, however, makes this simultaneity of objects in the same space, the object par excellence. Rather, its purpose, it always looks this simultaneity, the ghostly superposition. A mind like that of Victor Hugo, whose novel "Notre Dame de Paris is also the history of that city, he says of the cathedral:" the whitening Pastors, architects bite the stones and then there's the populace and destroys. " That is their fast motion. And then, on the Greek word found inscribed on a wall of the cathedral: "Man he recorded that word on that wall centuries ago has vanished and the word has been erased from the wall of the church as the church itself may soon disappear from the face of the earth. " That is their superposition. Victor Hugo, much later in the chapter on the bells, said: "The old church, all full of vibrations and sounds, was a continuous joy bells. It constantly felt the presence of a sound and whimsical spirit that sang through all those mouths of copper. " The Hunchback of love. That organ music and bells inside out, is lit by the imagination of Hugo. Your mind makes literary history possible vividly illustrated so well by that date. Superimposed buildings, the sounds, the characters in the past, the past is powerfully felt. No need to invoke a crude and garrulous, the realism of the afterlife. This is the ghostly overlay, the overlay of what's gone on this side, only in the here and there forever.

However, there is a pictorial simultaneity. This is not a hologram so content in another hologram, which can be all at once with the same clarity and intensity, as if unable to distinguish which goes to which. It is a superposition simultaneously in which each new object is semi-transparent overlay, and therefore, the simultaneous superposition of all results in the most recently stacked more visible, its details are more noticeable, but-and here we are still point- more transparent, and for that reason more new and subtle as an ocean no water, but methane. The semi-transparent objects overlapping sets at the farthest. That darkness, the lack of light, this lack of transparency obscures the passage of light is so ghostly presence as the most transparent.

In Discontents Freud culture describes the psychic life of overlapping objects and spaces, as opposed to physical life where that overlap is not possible, where objects limit each other in the same time. Indeed, recourse to Mary above Minerva, the church erected on the temple of Minerva in Rome, and whose name is already present such overlap. So, say here, the mind is an amazing historical possession of the psyche by something external to mind: all that wants to be remembered, organized, hierarchical, overlapping, by someone other than God. Finite someone belonging to this side, the world of those things that the ordinary mind receives no overlapping.

Since I read Huizinga and Burckhardt saw the great ability of these historians, capability overlay consisting of all life / European human deaths on which rested the sight, touch and hearing, as Schrödinger cat quantum physics, the subject of psychological experimentation, despite protests from animal protection. The cat is both dead and alive as he thinks about his hypothesis. Outside the hypothesis is alive or dead, but not overlapping.

ghost story as an overlay is the discipline of many things from a very minimal psychic assault in the eyes of everyday time.

1425 Butter Rodgers And Son Aa Knife

Guasipati Plague

Oscar Yanes *
underhand was learned that the Government had ordered the newspaper not to mention the plague and would rather say that there was nothing. El Nuevo Diario, gomecista spokesman announced that "now are alarmed by the appearance of a strange disease: the English flu. And they come from the mother country a new disease, as Valdepeñas, chorizo \u200b\u200bde Extremadura, Manchego cheese, or elvers of Bilbao, the cold that bothers us often and get more colorful names, and do arbitrarily come from Spain, we are giving the name " El Beso de la Raza. " It also called "the plague of kissing."

José Pagés, owner of the shop's France, said that horizonte and El Jobo Pimentel had been a big scare, as published in the journal Pitorreos, a tale by Edgar Allan Poe called "The Red Death" and as soon as Don Juancho saw the governor, was outraged: "This

do to cast sheath and say that there fever! I do arrested the man! - Juancho said, and the prefect, General Carvallo, immediately sent the spy Frias for the newspaper.

The police arrived at the wording and facing El Jobo, said:

- Call that Edgar Poe, because they go to prison!

"He went," said the "Jobo" very seriously.

"Then the ring at all to the Rotunda. When I clarified to Frias was an American writer who was 60 years dead, stared at reporters and said: "With

who got a cock sucker, ah, I'm going to tell General Juancho me, pa 'see if he likes the joke ...

An old man, who was listening to the retreat of Pedro Elías Gutiérrez, in the Plaza Bolivar, rose from his chair to applaud and fell dead.

The guys who came from the Valley with large suitcases full of cachapas, now sold lemons. People drank lemonade and boiled lemon and gave anointing by the neck and chest.

The Government was unable to prevent "Dr. Salvador Cordova, Vargas Hospital - to be published in the newspapers call the Medical Society of Caracas to discuss the epidemic.

"The other night at the Metropolitan could not see the movie The Two Pillet, because everyone was coughing, commenting on the corner of racks.

People do not talk about The Fatal Ring, the best set of Pearl White, but Ambrozoin Syrup, indicated against Beso de la Raza, or the Bojote, also named to the plague. The apothecaries doubled their body to serve the public employees who came in demand for drugs.

Doctors banned amapuches, kisses and hugs. The couple, carrying her bottle of hydrogen peroxide and wet his lips with a cotton pad before kissing.

- Beware! - Mothers cried when they saw that the girls kept their bottle in the carriel.

* Published in the column so UNIVERSAL cosas.EL are
Friday April 15, 2011


ayanes@cantv.net

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Kiss Odyssey of the orchid in Venezuela

Rubén Monasteries *
Benedict Roezl The Czech collector performance here was notorious during the historical period known as the seven, for the last illustrated tyrant's mandate Antonio Guzmán Blanco, between 1870 and 1877. A Roezl, man of the world familiar with French culture, it was easy to establish links with the peaks of the government in a country whose president was a Francophile, to whose influence had any perfume everything looked good Gallic. Was related to who then held the high office of Vice President of the Republic, General Matias Salazar seduced him by revealing the secrets of the orchid aphrodisiac, this, in return, gave the exclusivity of harvesting orchids throughout the north central region of the country in exchange for a fee, naturally.

issues of Roezl marched excellently, until General Salazar had the bad idea of \u200b\u200brising up against Guzman (1871), with the worst result of being defeated in battle, he was arrested in Tinaquillo and a court martial finds him shot . Roezl is noted for his friendship with Salazar, to which are added the vile false allegations of several competitors who engage in the conspiracy. The collector is arrested and involved with others condemn him to death, manages to save the life through the good offices of the French consul in Caracas, but is chastened, never to return to Venezuela.

earlier also operated in Venezuela the seven one Francisco de Alfaro, English adventurer named Paquito, a scoundrel of the purest tradition of the English picaresque, devised a farthing to save the miserable cents that was paid to farmers and Indian frontline collectors. To the best dressed medieval style of healing and walked those fields of orchids collected proclaiming God to take them to Europe and offer a tribute to the Virgen de los Siete Daggers, who collaborate in your company receive from the Holy Father himself indulgences designed to alleviate the suffering of a soul in torment, and, according to quantity, to ensure the absolute forgiveness of sins of those who make the offering on its raining orchids head carried by naive souls. Paquito has accumulated a considerable amount of flowers in Europe represent a fortune, when the conflict broke out in Venezuela religious Guzmán Blanco (June 26, 1870). Guzmán Blanco, freethinker and Mason, takes advantage of the fact that the Archbishop Guevara and exquisite Lira has been officiating at their request, a Te Deum of thanksgiving for his new enthronement in power, declaring "offended" the Illustrious American and decreed the expropriation of church property.

ignorant of such serious happenings, de Alfaro Choroní seeks exit with its cargo of orchids, but one of those fatalities of fate, the news about the impasse of the Government and the Church has reached the ears of the remote Civil Chief seaside resort, farmhand this atheist, very poor and grossly involved wild, who only remembers being called Perrote. The subject interprets the high political affair according to the limited trial, understood that solidarity with their leader, General Antonio Guzmán Blanco, President of the Republic which feels representative and obligation to defend its interests, is de rigueur publicly beating in the Plaza Bolivar, the parish priest, looting the church and parish house, dash the faithful and confraternities peinillazos disperse a humble community nuns dedicated to do well based in the village. When meeting with the false healing and his team, puts prisoner under threat of execution, confiscates their donkeys and cargo, and to the greater distress of Paquito, also available to burn the orchids. Big dog can not understand their accumulation by the collector, for the ignorant only kill the forest. Paquito, a man of good gab, as they usually are rogues manages to make him understand the value of orchids, in addition to discovering his true identity. Civil Chief finds it very amusing that this guy were walking around pretending to be cured, tricking peasants and Indians, and sympathizes with him, agrees to participate in the business that proposes to Alfaro, the agreement is that the Chief Civil help him transport the cargo to Puerto Cabello, so would receive half of the gains from the dealer to sell orchids in Europe. Perrote

still awaits its part. A legend Choroní that his ghost can be seen from time to time by the quay facing the sea and looking at the distant horizon, seems to shout something in a plaintive and bitter cry that just means between the heat wave and the roar of the wind, who has had the courage to put care, believe hear him say something like, "Paquito, son of a bitch, where's mine ?

illuminates the gloomy picture of the country's National Orchid Exposition.
The Venezuelan territory was a haven for these voluptuous flowers, hence the main field to take a collectors action in orquidelirio times, or fury by such plants Victorian European aristocrats. No wonder that literally razed to them.

* / Theme on his radio at MAGIC 99.1 FM. Thursday, 7 pm.