Welcome to Miami...Bienvenidos a Miami

Miami, Florida, May 16, 2010

Miami is a city of many talents, multi-cultural and diverse. It is a city full of character and characters. I went to the beach on my day off to soak up the sun, listening to Cuban music on my I-pod and watching “characters”: the body builder showing off his bulky muscles but no body hair, the cute couple cuddling and pretending is not 100 degrees and 100% humidity, the girls showing off a little bit too much skin and a little bit too little shyness, contrasting with the girls over floating from their mini-bikini in a huge display of an over rated self esteem and not a lot of consideration for the viewers (not even a “viewer’s discretion advice” warning before walking by, looking like the Michelin man) . It was a fun time.

Another fact about Miami is the bi-lingual assumption – almost every place you walk in to, you start by speaking Spanish and then, if no answer (or an apologetic “sorry no Spanish”), English is used. You can find food and goodies from virtually every corner of Latin America: Cuban food and coffee, Colombian hot dogs, chicken, cookies and soda, Venezuelan arepas, Mexican tacos and salsa. A wide variety of accents, looks and choices. It is a city where you can feel the human warmness in a lot of old fashion businesses, especially in little Havana.

I went back to my room to finish some work and I had to print and scan some documents. Contrasting with my beach and food experience, the business center was open 24/7 but no human interaction was to be found: the computers had a credit card swipe device installed and instructions on how to use the different services and of course, the cost for each one of them. The idea of having just electronic interfaces is great in theory, until it is not… what to do, when you swipe your card to make some copies, you follow the instructions, and nothing happens? Your sheets stay there, no scanning process, not even a noise? Well, I pressed the END CHARGES button thinking: let’s do this again since NOTHING happened, but of course then SOMETHING happened: the multi-device robot printed my receipt… charging me 2 dollars for its services and have a nice day.

Hmm, interesting. Then I thought: since the copying task was a no-go, I will try to use the PRINTER. So there I was, swiping my card again, but now for one of the computers, then the TERMS and CONDITIONS screen appeared, I accepted, and… NOTHING…. It got stuck there for so many minutes, that I started to wonder about the charges. I called the customer assistance number (outsource services, nobody from the hotel) and finally a human answered the phone, but my cell phone had no reception in the business center! It was one of those moments where you think of Murphy and all his laws. I tried to use the land line but of course, it was not enabled to dial external numbers, when I saw a big pop-up on one of the computers, and then somebody typing remotely a message: “….Are you there, m’am?”…

Yes! I was there! And I started typing back and explaining the whole computer fiasco and my fear of the surcharges. The person (or at least the typing entity on the other side of the screen) gave me instructions, such as the infallible “could you please shut down the computer and turn it on again” and the pretentious…”can you see me moving the mouse on the other computer”. Long story short, the other computer was nowhere to be ready for use, therefore the customer service rep allowed me to use the remote controlled computer for 20 minutes, free of charge. I was able to print, and then, tried to finish my copies. Stubborn as I can be, I re-swiped my credit card, selected the number of copies and of course, it didn’t work. Luckily, the remote session and the rep were still up, and I ended up acting as an IT clerk, moving the copier, checking the wires, turning it on and off again, waiting for it to re-start, and then, voila! My copies were scanning and the printer started to print them… FIVE TIMES!!!!!!

I ran to my own private cyber version of the crying wall and explained as fast as my fingers were able to type, the over-printing issue, and the response was: “…m’am, could you please press the STOP CHARGES button?”… of course I did, expecting to get the printed receipt (as I did before)…only this time, NADA…ZERO…NO RECEIPT.

“... I’ve got no receipt, is this good or bad”.. I asked naively… “mmmmmmmmmm, interesting”… was the response! …” do not worry m’am, must likely when we restarted the copier, it lost your card information, so no charges should have been made… but, in case you get any surcharges, please call the 1-800 number and we will be more than happy to process a refund”…

Of course, the only evidence I had of this was the written conversation we were having! Therefore, I asked for the rep’s name (want to guess?? His name was JOHN, no last name), I tried to print the file, and didn’t work, then I saved the file in my USB flash card, and, 1 second after saving, in a very mission impossible move, “John” shutdown the computer to erase all evidence…

It was a funny ending to a frustrating event, and for me it was a solid and living reminder that computers are only tools to help us with our jobs, but not a replacement for a head count in your payroll; that no matter what color your hair is, or how well you may look in a bikini, or how bad your attitude is, I take human interaction any day before trying to “reason” with bits, screens and interfaces.

Feeling Irish

“You don’t have to be Irish to be one on St. Paddy’s day…” Isn’t that a catchy phrase? But why do we like to feel Irish? At first I thought, it has to be the alcohol infused euphoria of celebrating with green colors, tons of beer, music and friends. After two years in a row of hosting a St.Patrick’s day party, I thought that was my case.

This will be the first year after two “go-green, drink free, have fun” bashes, that I have the time to think about what makes me feel Irish, even though I am not (and for the record, it has been a family urban legend since I can recall, our Irish inheritance that is).

This year I am away, alone, working, after two extremely intense weeks full of traveling, life-changing events and deep feelings. Thinking about the luck of the Irish, the Irish –Celtic rock and folk music I love so much and the energy those tunes bring me; my restless Irish terrier always ready to play and up for some hugs; Boston and the Red Sox (and how close we are for opening season!), of the Irish pubs and their live music, Celtic dances, stout beer and sharp cheddar. Remembering the sad movies and books about how difficult life has been for the Irish, forcing them to migrate away from their own country and make their own luck, but staying together and keeping the faith. Surfing all those mental images I have of the feisty Irishman, full of courage, pride, tradition, loyalty and passion, never giving up, always up for more, ready for the next fight. Not always right, but with the conviction of their own ideals that makes them strong.

That is my idea of being Irish, that’s what makes me feel like one: the fact that I want to fight for what I want and enjoy every minute of it, to keep up with the challenges every day bring, to never let go and recover fast from the falls, because I don’t want to waste my life making plans for when the time is right. Feel happy even with the smallest things, only because they make me smile; never to ease my passionate mind but always slow down to aim right. Trust in my instincts, follow my heart and keep the faith. Not to be afraid of love, express it, share it and let it flow back. That’s the spirit I want to have. That’s what I want to be… to always remember, to never forget…that it’s all up to me.

Happy St. Patrick ’s Day!

La Pregunta Cándida

Cuando van a ser la 8:30 a.m. sé que se empezarán a escuchar los sonidos de una hojalata latosa, que pareciera tomar un fracción de segundo para tomar impulso y volver a sonar cada vez más cercano, hasta que cumple su ciclo de acercase y luego alejarse de nueva cuenta; esto acompañado de un imperceptible, muy al inicio, “raspado de piso”, que al final de cuenta eso es lo que provoca que la hojalata haga su sonido metálico.

No todas las veces ese sonido viene solo, en muchas ocasiones lo escucho con una música sofocada, casi inaudible, casi arrítmica, pero definitivamente inferior al ruido de la hojalata, como si el metal fuera el equivalente a la trompeta de un marichi que neutraliza en gran medida al resto de sus compañeros instrumentos. Lo que si es una constante es que esa música lejana, cuando inicia, no termina.

Diferente sucede cuando la hojalata deja de escucharse y el sonido del agua empieza, como todo lo que es natural, tiene un efecto distinto ante los sentidos, y uno agradece que dicho chasquido se acerque y cumpla su período. Mi mañana tiene ese inicio, un viejo recojedor metálico, una escoba y una manguera que déjan a un rádio con música popular en algo que no parece música, mientras que “El Cuate” ejecuta su acción alrededor de la casa.

Hará más de un año que preguntó que podría estudiar, no recuerdo si fué en primavera o en verano, pero igual no tuve otra respuesta que señalarle el camino de la autobúsqueda; difícil camino, resultado de lo más cercano a lo certero según mi experiencia. Lo más lógico, como buena “misión”, poner un plazo, aunque pudente, pero un límite. Disciplina es un buen punto de partida, pensé; veremos lo profundo de su primer paso.

Como en todas las cosas, uno nunca está listo. Cúmulo documentos e información en mis manos y una voz que pide un consejo y un consejero que no sabe como iniciar. La elaboración de un perfíl y una preferecia era lo prudente, para mi sorpresa las preferecias iniciales distaban mucho de lo que yo percibia. Ciertas preguntas con sus respuestas nos llevaron a eliminar un gran número de opciones, pero predominaron constantes que nos llevaron a una conclusión: Nada relacionado con números, pero mucho con la relación entre humanos. La opción la teníamos, la decisión se tomó.

- En un mes inicio! Ya fui aceptado, matriculado y hasta sé el tiempo que tardaré en llegar. La distancia será factor: tres camiones …. o seis, por la ída y regreso.

Lo único que me pasó por la mente es la idea de que la ciudad ha crecido.

- Una felicitación y un gran gusto por la acción y decisión.

Ante tal acto y convencimiento, sucumbió algo, una pregunta:

- Me puede explicar, qué es lo que voy a estudiar?

En esos momentos las pausas determinan el presente y lo que desencadena. Recordé que no menos de una vez en mi vida había tenído que preguntarme algo peor, en tiempo pasado o pretérito: qué estudié? qué he estudiado? Lo que si supe es que tuve que tomar muchos medios de ida y vuelta en el trayecto.

- “Cuate”, nomas recuerda tus puntos fuertes. En todas las etapas te preguntarás lo mismo. Cada etapa tendrá una respuesta.

Al ecucharlo corear las canciones populares del radio, entendí que soñaba mientras seguía con sus labores; entendí que la pregunta cándida es la mejor pregunta, las demás siempre tendrán la acción de ocultar algo de nuestra forma pensar.
Escucho los sonidos de cada mañana, sé que tendrán su final y sé que ese final será para bien. Me da gusto, contemplo mis perros y veo que disfrustan a su amigo mientras trabaja, mientras sueña.

                              Hermosillo, Sonora, México, 5 de agosto del 2009