Wolf's Out

Journal: Mango Cake Part 1

Monterrey , January 2014

It was a Friday and my last months of college were beginning at the end of the weekend. After a quite crazy New Year’s vacation at Cancún, I was left with no money, no energy and no excitement for the upcoming months. I landed an internship in a pretty good company, but I wasn’t certain about what I wanted for my career in the future so I didn’t have any strong goals or motivations. I wasn’t able to embrace the idea that I was at that point when you have no choice but to become an independent person and more important stop being a frat boy and become a man.

I smoked a joint and sat at my balcony for hours wondering about where I was going, what I was doing and what I really wanted, nevertheless within my thoughts there were no answers to any of these questions. I was unsure, like many others are in their Senior Year, about whatever is coming after the graduation year. Did I really wanted to stay in Monterrey? Did I was really ready to leave the comfortable life and make hard choices? Not really.

The night arrived, neither with anticipation nor with my restlesness. My new roommate, with whom I really didn’t share anything, insisted to go to our neighbor’s birthdayparty. My neighbor, a wannabe Sheldon Copper with a hard obsession with lifting weights ( those muscual nerds with glasses type), have knowed me for a while by our AOE LAN-Parties and not going will probably be a rude gesture.  I put on a demin shirt and decided to join them, not after a Cuba Libre to handle the social interaction.

His appartment, which was the exact as mine, was packed moslty by drunk exchange students and a couple of our other neighbors, which clearly were there to hunt newly arrived exchange girls. I didn’t blame them, since every one of us in the building had done it for quite a while; all exchange students in our University ended up living there.

I was still high and the alcohol started to kick in, but this time my expectation to something happening (or forcing it to) was non existent. I decided to stay a reasonable time and leave when everybody was busy with everybody.

The party when on and all the friends brought a huge Mango Cake in order to throw it to my neighbor’s face. Since the cake was quite big, 3/4 of it were left behind and everybody in the party was too busy to actually eat them. I decided to grab some of it, as I had a strong munchies already, and go home.

I walked to the kitchen table and when I was about to grab a piece of it, when somebody tapped my shoulder. I turned around and I saw a tall blonde girl with huge blue eyes and a smile that could make the most miserable man in the world smile back. “I think we can take the whole cake and eat it and nobody will notice” – she said in spanish with almost no accent. “I think everybody is too busy trying to eat other things or other ones” – I answered as I grabbed a knife to cut the cake. She was wearing a white shirt with a brown Ralph Lauren Jacket. Her hair was not too long, but not too short and straight. Her face reminded me of a younger version of Jennifer Connely for her role in Virginia. “Do you want some? I think I’ll take a half and you can take the other” – I told her as I looked straight into her ocean blue eyes. “Sure, but we can maybe eat it outside by the stairs without any drunk people stealing it from us” – She said as she started walking on the way to the door. I followed with the whole cake in my hands.

We left the party and went to the upper floor of the building, where we sat down and ate cake and talked about bad horror movies that made us laugh, about that time when she was stuck in Nicaragua, about that time I when I got arrested as a teenager; about those little details who people usually don’t speak. I had never met someone with her name and still I don’t have. She liked the ironic t-shirt i had under my shirt and told me I looked like those nerds kids who try to be cool in highschool. I told she seemed like the person who push the toothpaste by the middle and not by the end. She told me I seemed that guy who always cheats in Wario Stadium in Mario Kart.

It wouldn’t the last time we ate mango cake, neither wouldn’t be the last time we talked until the sun rised, nor the last time I felt a fire in my chest when I kissed her lips.

 

 

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Journal: Medis

Stockholm, September 2016

My new apartment was located in my favorite island in the Stockholm Archipelago: Södermalm. Apartment Buildings of the beginning of the 20th century, which with the past of time became the hub of the small hipster coffees, start-ups. I stood in one of the windows of the last floor of my building starring at the homogenous black roofs that spread in every direction until they  met  the water of lake Mälaren. My student apartment was completely empty, beside a desk, a bed and the empty white walls which reflected the sunlight; I needed new curtains.

I stared through my window, as I still do now, and looked at the people that walked through Götgatan with no idea that I was looking at them as they, one by one, appeared and disappeared in both directions. And old couple, the hipster looking dude pushing his son’s stroller, the gypsy woman picking cans from the trash, the young kids smoking to be cool, the under-paid foodora couriers. I could stare at them, make stories of their lives in my mind and they will disappear from my site one moment after.

University was starting and my morning ritual will be followed, for the rest of my days in this place, with a walk to the Medborgplatsen Metro Station or as the locals called: Medis. From now on I began telling the people I lived near medis which , due to the housing crisis in Stockholm , gave me some kind of privileged status and made ten times easier to convince a girl to go back home with me after the club. I was in love with Södermalm; with Stockholm. I got to finally be a anonymous in a city where nobody really knew who I was or even cared.  Every time I had the chance, I would explore every inch of the island. Every little graffiti bar or café. I ran along the water by day and partied hard during the night at Trädgården.  I walked through Slussen through the crows. I smoke pot and drank beer at Skinnarviksberget. I hooked up with a ballet dancer behind Allhelgonakyrkan. I watched the exhibitions at Fotografiska. I left a stencil under Skanstull bridge

I was a restless tiger and Södermalm was my jungle.

Journal: Days at the hostel

Stockholm, August 2016

 

I landed in Arlanda around midday. It wasn’t a busy flight and there wasn’t really a lot of people at the airport. I took the shuttle bus to the city struggling with all the luggage I had on me. Before leaving, a good friend put me in contact with another Mexican who was also moving to the city and we reached each other. Neither of us had received an apartment yet so we picked a hostel near the central station and agreed to meet there. Two Mexicans form the north with the same name at the same city in the other side of the world,  what were the odds.

I had not felt the jetlag yet and somehow my excitement to finally moving away becoming a reality gave me energies to keep moving the 42 kg which made my life at the moment around the city. The sky was grey and it wasn’t exactly warm, which didn’t really bother us. The hostel was quite central, maybe just a little too hipster. Victor’s room was full, so they put me in a different room with 3 other persons. I went to the room left the bags and took a shower. I came out of the shower room and a beautiful Icelandic girls entered the room with her two brothers.  We had some small talk before I left. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes and was short and quite fit. She wasn’t able to stop looking at me, later on she confessed that I was the first Mexican she saw in real life and I wasn’t neither fat or had a mustache which made me somehow exotic. Like I hadn’t hear that story a thousands times before in Europe.

Victor and me went for a walk around town and agreed to meet some other newly arrived international students for a festival. I knew a Russian girl whit whom I had contact online before arriving was coming and for her pictures I knew she was hot, making the evening a little more exiting. The festival turned up to be great and we ended up watching Caravan Palace play during the evening. The other students showed up lat and the Russian girl was less friendly and less good looking in person, so I didn’t really bothered to push something.

On the way back to the hostel ,as we crossed Sergelstorg, I came to the realization that what I planned actually was being a reality and that all the time waiting for a change, waiting for something to happen, hopping to try something else besides the usual ; everything was happening at that moment. That every step I walked through Drottningatan made it clearer that my road and plans were consolidating themselves by the mere fact that I was able to walk on this street. I felt I could do it all, that nothing would stop me for moving forward and reaching my goals. Hell, I even thought I could get my ex back.

We went back into the hostel and decided to have a couple of drinks, nobody at the hostels bar seemed really interesting so we called it a night. Back in my room, I managed to make out with the Icelandic girl since her brothers went out and she stayed back. My jetlag was kicking in and she didn’t wanted to have sex and I didn’t push. I moved to my bed and passed out almost immediately. Victor and me spent the  rest of the days at the hostel wondering the city while I made out with the Icelandic girl every time her brothers were away at night. However, we never past third base.

Not long after,  I crashed a swedish friends place for a couple of days more until I got the keys to my own apartment and  I officially became an inhabitant of Stockholm.

Journal : Starting Again

Mexico City, August 2016

It was finally happening: I was leaving. A mix of emotions invaded my heart as the taxi driver drove to my hotel. It was raining and the endless lines of cars moved slowly during the rush  hour.

“Sweden? Do they have good food over there? – The taxi driver asked trying to make some small talk.

“Not that I know, everything is served with potatoes and almos none spices” – I answered while looking at the window. The kid in the car next door waved at me as we pass each other by. I waved back and looked away.

“Damn, you will have a bad time at the table son. I guess you are at least bringing some salsas with you right? – The taxi driver said while laughing.

“I do have the basics. Tequila, salsa bottles, some tajin and a small supply of spicy candies.” – I said.  I didn’t really remember what actually was inside my luggage. I couldn’t fit my life in 42 kg of luggage, rather  pieces of the things that made my daily life back in Monterrey. Sincerely, I didn’t care. It was not the first time I was leaving and I knew deep inside me that I had to leave.

It took around thirty minutes to reach the hotel, despite it being close by. The rain was slowly going away and the lights of the cars and buildings slowly turned on, marking the beginning of the night; the night which covered the endless streets of Mexico City. I checked in and left my bags inside my room and hit the road as soon I arrived. I didn’t want to wait, because I knew the feelings of melancholy will hit at any moment. The exhausting hot days back in Monterrey, the routine weekend grills with my friends, and the endless mountains of the Sierra Madre which drew the skyline were gone; I was gone.

I was anxious, exited and  a the same time sad to leave. I got inside an uber and went to Condesa. I was meeting Julia, a colombian girl with whom I hooked up the previous New Years back in Playa del Carmen. We agreed to met in “Chuchito Pérez”, a trendy restaurant with a selection of exotic tacos and good cocktails in front ot the roundabout of the Cibeles’s Fountain. The truth is that I had planned my last night in Mexico very carefully the previous days: Mexican Food, Some Vampiros ( a cocktail made with tequila)  and not spending the night alone. Julia came around 15 min after me. She was wearing a white summer dress which highlighted her long legs, her hair was light brown and had dark green eyes. We met at the Mamitas Beach Club New Years party, but didn’t had sex because she was staying with her parents. She studied law at Mexico City and had a passion for old latin american rock. We had a couple of drinks and I recommend the duck tacos.

“Victor, are you sure you can endure that darkness?” – She joked.

“I guess I would take vitamin D pills” – I answered. It wasn’t the first time I was up in Scandinavia and the darkness seemed something tolerable or at least I assumed that after a couple of weeks of being there.

We left the restaurant and walked to a small cuban place where we danced salsa and got drunk in Mojitos.  I tried to ignore my phone during the night, even though people were constantly leaving me messages of goodbye. I really wanted to call every single person I loved and tell them once again that I would miss them, that I will miss them a lot, but I thought it would only make me sad during these last moments and I wanted the last night to be perfect.

It wasn’t too late when we went to my hotel, after making out in the back seat of the uber while the poor driver awkwardly tried to ignore us. We entered my room and I played a Best of Soda Stereo playlist while Julia took out of her Michale Kors black purse a joint. We smoke the joint laying in bed and had sex a couple of times. Julia left early to work and I followed after to catch my flight. There were 100 notifications in Whatsapp, but I couldn’t care to open it. I got inside the plane while playing “Volver a Comenzar” by Café Tacvba. It was what I was doing: Starting Again.

Just words.

It bothers us that we don’t look in our pictures as we see ourselves in the mirror.

Just like the impression others have from us isn’t like the one we want others to have.

We hide our weaknesses through our strengths, we show little of ourselves.

Remnants of our world.

I can’t can explain if we can say this is the end of our time, as we all hope beyond the seas there are still somewhere that stands as everything used to stand. It is hard to say that civilization totally disappeared , because I want to consider that whatever thing we manage to sustain still holds similarities about our past.  We struggle to survive, nevertheless we keep track of time and me with my spare few time decided to record all the events we are going through. Without time there is no, without history, there is no civilization.

When I was still young, before all that happened, the information overwhelmed us. We had everything and with our phones and computers we are able to record everything; plus we could choose what to know and what not to. Do you want to know about science? Click here! Do you want to know about what the Kardashians did last weekend? Click here! Do you want to know about the war in the Middle East? Click here! Do you want to know more about that hot girl in your classroom? Click here!

I regret all the the time I wasted watching videos of people doing stupid things instead of learning how to threat a wound or repair a radio. Everything was there in the infinite piles of information spread around the servers. We were spoiled and choose to spend our free time watching photos of food, reading about which zodiac signs were compatible with ours. If I just had known, maybe I wouldn’t have enlisted. If I had known maybe I could help more when I was back. If I had know maybe we will be more.

It was too late, I should worry about today. Anyway, I will keep a track of all, as maybe nobody does anymore. It could be a future and they will like to know what happened to learn from our mistakes, at we tried to learn from the ones of our ancestors. I don’t think we could avoid it all. The sickness was inevitable, but the war could have been.

We wondered in the outskirts of a city, scavenging anything useful we could have.  It remind me of my patrolling when I was deployed, but I was more scared back then; I had something to loose. I am not sure about it now. We all knew inside the city there were more chances of finding more of what we needed, but we weren’t that desperate. The risks of infection were high and we hadn’t protection. We travelled light and kept our distance and that is why we were alive.

The more time passed, the more I read and the more I read, the more books I hunted for. My companions found that silly at the beginning, as our bags should supposed to be full of useful things, but as we wondered through the wasteland all of us agreed with time that information was our biggest weapon to survive. We read about all we could find, to learn, to improve, but I would say that also for keeping us sane. Everything around us changed and those who we knew died. There was no instagram to share the landscaped we encountered our facebook to stalk those we saw. The things we did and the people we know were lost together with those servers and with them the splendor of our world.

Could we overcome what was in front of us? Could we stop wondering? I had no answers. What I do know, we grew close to those around us. Even in the pain and suffering we encountered, we saw each other through our own selves and not pretentious profiles or social mask based on what was wrong our right. There were no strains right now and we all showed our true colors, yet it doesn’t imply they were all good. Those evil and corrupt still wondered as we do.

The sickness that appeared wasn’t something new. Many perished in the past due to different kinds of them . The black death chose without discrimination its victims as this virus do. The CEO’s and homeless danced together with death , the same way the Nobles and the peasants did centuries before. The difference, in my opinion, is they knew less and their fear spread , mouth to moth, slower than those viral videos on the internet I saw when it began. The exponential panic and chaos generated from it destroyed everything, including people’s minds. I don’t necessarily think the virus killed everybody, their own fear of death doomed many even before any signs of infection in their bodies. The war didn’t ended because somebody won, it ended because the virus overthrew those in power. Death had always been the true ruler, but grew tired of others making its job as it did many times before. It waited silent and let our own humanity spin the wheel of life, until it got bored and decided to do it on its own.

I don’t fear it as I did when I dig the graves of those infected. It spared me, to see all of it, to reach the point when all the screams became silent, to see when the lights went off. In return for its favor I am

recording  this, so those in the future can understand what it did, so they learn that they aren’t bigger than it and that any power in this world can help you cheat it and they can live plentiful lives and enjoying their time together before it decides to take it away. As I look from the outskirts of the city into its remnants, I don’t see its face. The trees grew higher, the birds sang and even though I was well aware the infection still wondered to streets, the silence was not there anymore. The birds sang, the winds made the plants dance and the stars shinned freely during the night without any light to

stop them . I don’t think death cared about us, as we and the perception of our time were insignificant to it, as life for it was something which will flourish with it along the way existence.

As we left that moment in our car through the empty highway to our shelter. I knew deep in my heart that this wasn’t an end but a new chance to a new beginning. Together, without any of those things that distanced us from each other as they succumbed together with those we left behind.

Story: Something in this night. Part 1

It was dark as I looked from my window. The people kept moving and the cars were noisy. I scrolled through my social media: dinners, afterworks, friends, family, cats, political statements, and publicity. My phone kept ringing, my group chats flooded with notifications. I sat in front of my computer, frozen, silent, wondering about the night to come,   wondering about what is gonna happen. I grew anxious, as any other weekend night.

It has been been two weeks since I had sex, its  been thirteen weeks since I left home, its been 730 days since the last time I felt in love. It was 3 hours before midnight, my lips were dry, and my head feel like it was about to explode. I left, in a haste. I walked outside, it was cold. What I am going to do?  What I am expecting? I asked myself. I walked down Götgatan, crossing the junkies getting drunk.  I passed two hipster girls who looked at me and smile. My cheeks were freezing, my mind was lost, and my anxiety started to settle down as I walked down to the subway station.

What is going to be? Is it going to be another night? Is it going to be nothing? Like every other night, like every fucking time? I rushed into the trains as the doors were about to close. I saw myself at the reflection in the window as the train went into the darkness of the tunnel. What is this night unless I do something?

I turned around, my phone rang again: My friends wanted to meet and I had to pretend that I am having a great time; like any other fucking night. I fixed my hair in the windows reflection just before the train stopped. Or maybe something will happen?  Is it gonna be different to any other place or any other time? I resisted my thoughts and walked outside, fast. It started snowing as I walked through the street, my lips were dry.

I arrived to the place. I met my friends. The music was loud and I grew thirsty. I trembled, a cold sensation ran through my back, and my hands felt warm.

As I walked through the crowd, my senses felt sharper. Could maybe something happen or is it going to be just boring? I walked outside and lighted a cigarette.

The dark cloudy sky cleared out as I stood in the smoking area.

Is it full moon tonight? – A brunette with blue eyes asked me while approaching me.

It is gonna be something, I guess – I answered as I smiled and the moon shined through my contact lenses.

What do you mean? – asked the brunette confused as I stood facing here.

That it is not going to be like any other night – I answered. – Do you want to have a drink? It is on me – I said, as I started to walk inside.

Mmm.. sure, why not? – She told me as she walked next to me back inside.


In other news:  A middle-aged woman was found dead near the bridge in the middle of djurgarden. The police stated the probable cause of death may be of blood loss due to injuries suffered by an attack of a wild animal, most likely a wolf. The process of identifying the victim is underway as the injuries made harder for recognition, a forensic dental examination may be needed; stated the police department in their twitter account . Animal Control authorities have been notified and the visitors of the park have been warned of wild animals during the nigh inside the park premises.


Spooky? Hope you enjoy it, its been a while I don’t try creating stories. Back in the track.

An Express Touristic Guide to Stockholm + Top Scenic views

As many European cities, Stockholm attracts hundreds of tourists every year and there are tons of things that people and sites tell you to do. For my point of view Stockholm is not as touristic as other european capitals, nevertheless there are a couple of things worth a visit or if you want that cool photo to put it in your social media. This lists will point them:

  1. Gamla stan: Or old town, is one of the oldest well preserved medieval cities in Europe. Full of small streets and alleys, feels like going back in time.  During the summer or the winter, this city is the main attraction in Stockholm. Is full of restaurants, giftshops, and bars.
gamlastan

Gamla Stan

2. The Royal Palace: It is the official residence of His Majesty the King of Sweden, with over 600 rooms. You can visit the inside as well some of the lower leves, which contain several museums. My personal favorite: The Armory, which contains clothing,weapons ,and armors from the wars the swedish kings waved in the past. You can try a medieval armor for fun too.

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An aerial view of the Royal Palace.

This two attractions are located in the island of Stadsholmen. Easy access by the subway in the station of Gamla Stan. In this island you can also find some churches, the Alfred Novel Museum and the Swedish Parliament. If you are interested in those you can take a peak, but as this is express, I think you are good without them.

3. Skansen: It is considered the first open-air museum. It is supposed to show the way of life of different parts of Sweden by its architecture. At the same time it is a zoo with different animals which habit Scandinavia.

skansen-entrance

4. Vasa Museum: It contains the Vasa chip which capsized in the bay of Stockholm in 1633. It was salvaged in the 60’s. It is the only well preserved 17th century warship. It is 69m and was armed with 64 cannons. Worth a visit, it is considered the most visited museum in Scandinavia.

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5.  Stockholm’s city Hall: The city’s symbol and the place were the Nobel Prize Ceremony is carried out. Worth a photo for your instagram.

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Pretty huh?

Other honorable mentions are: The photography museum and the museum of modern art. And if you are a hardcore fan, probably the ABBA museum.

For the best views of the city and totally for free I’ll recommend the next spots. 

Get down in Slussen and walk to this point, it is easy to spot.

You will get this:

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Instamoment Bitch

For another good spot, and if you are rolling with a girl/guy to open a bottle of wine. Get down in Mariatorget and walk to this place.

It looks like this.

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First base granted my friend.

There are so more places to go, but with this bunch you can pretty much say that you saw Stockholm touristic side. Enjoy your time around and please don’t use a lot of selfie sticks!

Hallå Sverige!

After spending a lot of time in my corporate job, I decided to change the way my life was going and look for a different career path. No, I am not talking about leaving my life and travel as a hippie bump around third world countries like a lot of folks do. I decided to go “green” in my career  and moved to the other side of the world for studies and that is how I ended up moving to Stockholm.

Why Sweden? I used to have a fascination for Scandinavian culture when I was a young kid, reading about the cold north and its vikings, but that wouldn’t be a good excuse as the modern swede is usually a leftist, politically correct modern man quite different of its ancestors. Sweden is considered the leader in green technologies; as for environmental engineering is one of the best countries in Europe for a degree, the quality of life is high, and the work benefits huge, …and why not say it open; Swedish women are famously consider to be beautiful.  I packed my clothes, my game ,and my passport; took the plane to the land of Alfred Nobel, Abba and the one Zlatan Ibrahimovic.

I  was in the other side of the world again; this time older and with a different perspective of  life; for those reasons I decided to start again here in this corner of the internet.

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Stockholm view form Södermalm Island

Time goes on

Time flies. Memories and People you met in the way along with it.

I decided to talk a little bit about my trips and thoughts I had along the way after moving back to my home country  last Month. I see my life with a different point of view and wanted to share my experiences form the past,present, and future.

The exposition of Mondrian in Neues Staatgallerie, Stuttgart, Germany, March 2013