Passport to Poconos – Hispanic Cultures, a Hispanic Magazine in the Poconos

 

The Poconos have a new Latino magazine: Latino Espectacular.  It was born in Allentown fifteen years ago through the energy and dedication of   Isa Pereyra, a Dominican woman who felt all Hispanics were her people, that Spanish was her first language, and that she could make a career in TV, on radio, and with a magazine. She does all three spectacularly well.

Beginning this month, Latino Espectacular can be found here in Monroe County because Isa found a partner in Sylvia Piserchio, a successful business woman originally from Ecuador, who has been living in the Poconos for over twenty five years. Not very long ago, I met with both of them in Allentown, along with Gil Coronado, a friend who embraces his parents Mexican’s origins and supports the Hispanic community by working with me on my radio program on 96.7 FM.  Gil is an entrepreneur with CILA, his own management company that supports emerging artists.

Isa took us all out to eat and dance at a family oriented Dominican club in Allentown.  That is where I discovered the soul of the Dominicans. They move to the beat and know all of the most popular songs of their country by heart. “These beautiful people,” I thought, “breathe the music that is part of their soul and their culture.” (Especially bachata and merengue, their most popular forms).

That night, Isa told me about her life and about the three sons she brought up almost totally on her own. “I was performing since I was a child, “she told me. “ I needed to create art and bring people together”.

Sylvia and Isa had known each other for a long time, but just a month earlier Sylvia finally told Isa, “The time has come to bring our magazine to the Poconos.  There is a definitely market for it”

In a month they put it together and last week, the Pocono edition was distributed for the first time. These two women had an idea, saw it through, and a month later made it a reality.

Discovering these Hispanics and their passion for bringing a common understanding to different Spanish-speaking nationalities, is something I have only seen in this country, specifically in the Poconos.  Isa and Sylvia, like my friends in FLECHA, come together to preserve a common culture.  They find joy in celebrating with food, music, and laughter across boundaries.  In Spain, things are different, perhaps because Spanish is spoken everywhere and many cultural traditions are taken for granted.

Since my Spanish radio show started two years ago this week, first in Spanish with WESS Radio and now in English at Pocono 96.7, I’ve kept my ears open to the Hispanic community where I keep hearing a constant message, “There is not yet enough for us here, we want more”. Well now there is more: This column every week in the Pocono Record (translated into Spanish on my blog), Latino Spectacular Magazine and “Tu Voz con Christina” Radio Show. The Poconos possess a rich community of diverse cultures that grow better and blossom because they share with each other.

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Passport to Poconos – Food and Cultures

 

Dear friend,

Last week was my first experience with a new kind of eating place –at least new to me. My husband tells me they are usually out on the highway, away from the towns, and typically serve cocktails and limited menus. So they´re called “roadhouses.” In Spain we don´t have anything like them. Restaurants and bars are usually near the center of town. Nothing like those welcoming lights you see here in the darkness along winding highways. Their signs sometimes flash with little moving light bulbs and their windows always look bright but mysterious. These places are well-known to locals, but strangers rarely stop.

 

In Spain I remember seeing them in American movies. They are the places where Humphrey Bogart meets the girl, or where Marlon Brando parks his Harley.

 

“We have to go to”, our friend Karen kept saying.” “It has great pizza and cheap drinks.” I checked it on line and I realized that we would have to go to dinner early, at a non-Spanish time, to get there in time to eat before the closing time.

 

The place looked exactly like a rustic pioneer cabin from frontier days, and it was very lively. There were two people playing live music from the 60’s and there was a board at the end of a room where you had to write your name and number of people for a reservation. Our party managed to squeeze in at the bar and listen to the music while waiting for our names to be called.

 

Finally somebody yelled our name on top of the music and we were seated. The atmosphere was so upbeat in the bar with the music everyone chatting with each other that I wasn’t sure I wanted to move into the dining room. It was decorated with Christmas lights that stayed up all year, was quiet enough to talk, and was even more cozy and friendly than the bar.

 

Our waitress came over with a friendly, familiar attitude, as she had known us for years. “Pizza is the specialty” she said, “And for $1 you can get the bigger size.” On top of the table´s paper cloth she put plastic plates that had been used so long the designs had faded. We distributed our plates choosing which ‘faded pattern’ we preferred. That was part of the fun. When the pizza arrived, we cut it ourselves and ate it with our hands.

 

I think it tasted better like that. or maybe it was the spontaneity of the whole experience. This is something I had never had in Spain or New York City. It was a fun, casual experience, with good pizza and friendly people. I can’t wait to take my friends from Spain when they come to visit. I’m sure they will feel this is a real American experience. The roadhouse–Made in the USA!

 

Christina´s radio show with a Latin flavor is every Sunday morning at 8:00 AM on Pocono 96.7. Tu Voz con Christina. Email: Christina@pocono967.com

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Passport to Poconos – Celebrando Nuestras Culturas

 

Querida amiga,

 

Estoy de regreso de Barcelona, España. Cada vez que viajo a mi casa en los Poconos siento un poco de culpa.

 

Me alejo del mundo que conocí la mayor parte de mi vida, a pesar de que siento que no es el lugar donde quiero vivir, de igual modo extraño mis amigos y nuestra rutina social. España no es como en los Estados Unidos donde tienes que planear con anticipación si quieres ver a alguien. Uno de los amigos de mi esposo nos invita con meses de antelación, a lo cual yo le comento “Quién sabe dónde estaré para ese entonces”.

 

En España, si quiero conversar con mi amiga Cristina, la llamo a su oficina y le pregunto si tiene tiempo para tomar un café. Mi amiga Rosa, quien es una coordinadora de la sala de emergencias tiene turnos de 12 horas; Ella se pone feliz si nos encontramos para cenar después del trabajo porque como ella dice: “Tengo que comer aunque esté cansada”.  Me alegra mucho ir a cenar con una amiga luego del trabajo. Nada tiene que ser caro, el objetivo es la amistad.

 

También me gusta como la gente disfruta de la vida con menos dinero en España. A menudo, la gente se encuentra en el parque, va a caminar o se encuentra para almorzar algo económico. Hay muchos sitios para reunirse y tomar un café o un trago. Un tiempo atrás, viví en Segovia, una ciudad hermosa en las llanuras de España cerca de Madrid donde tenía la posibilidad de ver otras mujeres solteras que vivían allí y nos juntábamos para tomar un vino o una gaseosa después del trabajo.

 

Nos quedábamos en el bar para comer un “montadito” (un sándwich pequeño) gratis con cada trago. Te da la bienvenida y es sabroso. El “montadito” enfatizaba la calidez de estos encuentros sociales y de paso comíamos algo por el precio de un trago barato. Entre tragos y “montaditos” tuve la oportunidad de conocer a muchas personas y algunas de ellas se convirtieron en mis amigos para siempre. Ojalá los bares estadounidenses se contagiaran de esta modalidad.

 

Ahora me reúno con mis amigos de aquellos años de los “montaditos”, con sus esposos e hijos.  Aquellas amistades no tienen precio y siento que es uno de los regalos que mi cultura latina tiene para ofrecer. Sin embargo, cuando alguien me pregunta si volvería a España, le respondo: “Me gusta visitar y extraño algunas cosas, pero mi hogar está en los Poconos ahora, donde tengo gatos, mis nuevos amigos, mi nueva casa, mi nuevo programa de radio “Tu Voz con Christina” (“Your Voice with Christina”) en la radio Pocono 96.7, mi columna semanal y mi blog. Tengo muchas bendiciones para contar pero mientras que sigo agregando nuevos capítulos en mi vida en los Poconos.

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Passport to Poconos – Inicio de la Primavera con Sabor Agridulce

Después de vivir 5 años en los Poconos, y luego de pasar un invierno duro, me emociona ver que la nieve se esté derritiendo y la naturaleza renaciendo. Sin embargo, Marzo es un mes confuso para mí. Los recuerdos que tengo de este mes son agridulces. En España y otros países europeos, Bolivia y Honduras en América del Sur se festeja el día del padre, ya que el 19 de marzo se celebra el día de San José, el padre de Jesús.

Se trata del mes en el que falleció mi padre, justo unos días después del día del padre.

Mi padre y yo nunca nos llevamos bien completamente, ya que ambos teníamos personalidades fuertes. El no podía entender que su única hija se pareciera más a él que a sus propios hijos varones. En su mente, sus hijos tenían que tener el impulso y la hija mujer tenía que ser obediente. Ese era el patrón tradicional en las familias españolas. Y esa fue la razón por lo que peleábamos y peleábamos. Siempre fui la rebelde y busqué su apoyo y consejo.

Pero las reglas de mi padre eran rígidas. Nunca dejó que mi madre aprendiera a manejar porque como el decía ” vas a matar a alguien” (cuando le cuento la historia sobre su suegra a mi esposo, él siempre está de acuerdo con mi padre).

Me parecía tanto a él, pero de igual manera nunca pudo brindarme su confianza. Cuando se sometió a una cirugía de corazón por tercera vez, sabía que no iba a sobrevivir y estuve de duelo semanas antes del procedimiento. Mi hermano estaba enojado conmigo por inquietar a mi madre. “Pero yo sabía que él no iba a sobrevivir”, todo el tiempo decía “yo lo sé”, y eso fue lo que pasó.

Se acercaba el día del padre y mi padre se recuperaba de la cirugía. “Qué le daría” pensé “Se que él se está por morir”. Finalmente, en una tarjeta expresé mi amor por él y toda la bondad, lo que realmente importaba.

Acepté y aprecié que él hizo lo mejor por nosotros. Le di mi tarjeta, mi último regalo, pero él estaba muy débil para leerla. Entonces se la leí y me respondió “estoy tan feliz, cuando eras pequeña, tu siempre fuiste la rebelde y has crecido para convertirte en una flor que floreció”.

Aquellas fueron las últimas palabras que me dijo, las que voy a conservar toda mi vida. Sé que el estaría muy orgulloso de lo que lo que soy y de donde encontré mi lugar. Finalmente estamos en paz. Extraño a mi padre aunque siento su apoyo y protección todos los días.

Marzo significa algo diferente para cada uno de nosotros porque es la muerte del invierno y el nacimiento de la primavera. Todos tenemos recuerdos de este momento de transición en el año. Para mí, va a ser siempre para ti “papi”.

El programa de radio con el sabor latino de Cristina se transmite todos los domingos a las 8:00 de la mañana por Pocono 96.7. Tu Voz con Christina
Correo electrónico: Christina@pocono967.com

TRADUCIDO POR CELIA ELIZABELAR:  newjusa@hotmail.com

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Passport to Poconos – March is Sweet and Sour

Dear friend,

After living in the Poconos for five years and going through the harsh winter, I’m excited about the snow melting and nature reawakening. However, March is a puzzling month for me. My memories of this month are sweet and sour. It is Father’s Day in Spain and other European countries (as well as Bolivia and Honduras in South America).  This is because March 19 is the Day of St. Joseph, the father of Jesus. It’s also the month when my father passed away, just four days after Father’s day.

My father and I never got along completely: we both had strong personalities. He couldn’t understand that his only daughter was more like him than his sons. In his mind his sons had to have the drive, and the daughter had to be the obedient one. That was the traditional pattern in Spanish families.  It didn’t turn out like that and we fought and fought. I was always the rebel, even though I looked for his support and advice.

His rules were rigid. He never let my mother learn to drive because as he said “you’re going to kill somebody.”

I was so like him but he still couldn’t give me his trust or confidence. When he went through his third heart surgery I knew he wouldn’t make it and I mourned for weeks before the procedure.  My brother was upset with me for unsettling my mother. “But I know he won’t make it,” I kept saying, “I just know.” And that was what happened.

Father’s day was coming and my dad was recovering from surgery. “What should I give him?” I thought, “I know he’s near the end.” I finally got a card where I could express my love for him and all the goodness; what really mattered.

I accepted that he did his best and I appreciated what he did for us. I gave him the card, my last gift, but he was too weak to read it.  So I read it to him. His response was “I’m so happy. When you were little you were always a rebel and you´ve grown up to become a flower that blossomed.”

Those were his last words to me and I will cherish them all my life. I know he would be so proud of what I´ve become and where I found my place.  Finally we are at peace. I miss him and feel his support and protection every day. So March means something different to everyone because it is the death of winter and the birth of spring. We all carry memories from this transitional moment in the year. For me it will always be for you, papi.

Christina´s radio show with a Latin flavor is every Sunday morning at 8:00 AM on Pocono 96.7. Tu Voz con Christina. Email: Christina@pocono967.com

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Passport to Poconos – The Latin Bikers in the Poconos

 

Dear friend,

One of the best things about Latin cultures is the ‘togetherness’. We always find a way of sharing something and being together. Here is one of the groups that brought that through their love of bikes.

It was a Saturday morning and I was waiting my turn to be seated in Perkins when I saw a number of people dressed in biker outfits: jeans, boots and black vests with lots of badges sewn on, including the word LAMA.  That stands for Latin American Motorcycle Association. The moment I hear “Latin” in the Poconos, it’s a new opportunity to meet someone connected to my original culture and speak Spanish.

I told the bikers about my weekly radio show and they were eager to come.  I found out their group organizes many community events, but no one had ever invited them to a radio show.

“I’m a Nuyorikan” said Jay, AKA “El Jefe” (The Boss), the VP of the group (referring to his original Puerto Rican roots although he was born and raised in New York). That’s how the New York /Puerto Ricans refer to themselves.

“We are an International Humanist Motorcycle Association,” biker Roberto told me. “What does that mean?” I asked my curiosity spiked. I always thought of bikers as tough dudes who roared through town and refused to let you pass on the highway.

Robert (President) and Jay referred to their members as “brothers” and “sisters” and stressed their family oriented values. They told me about the community events they support and the yearly grant they give to a student “Do you have to be a Latin to belong to the club?” I asked.” “No,” Roberto replied, “What you need to have a 650cc bike and be accepted by the ‘Chapter’ (as they call their clubs), after a trial period. We also have female riders whom we call “Damas” (ladies), and we accept every nationality, race, gender, age. We´re open to anyone who shares our values.

Behind their biker looks, I found kind and sweet people willing to share their love for biking with humanitarian work in their community.

I asked Jay what it feels like riding a 650cc bike, He said you can´t describe it, but it’s the same rush a dog feels putting his head out of the window of a speeding car. With all the talk about good works and scholarships, I guess motorcycle riding is always going to be about the great feeling of freedom on the road. Our winding highways through the Poconos are perfect for bikes, and we´ve got biker hangouts like the Minisink Hotel to make sure bikers get properly hydrated.

I want to feel that wind. I´m going to put on my leathers and join the pack. I can see myself on the back of a big bike—the summer breeze through my hair–and then I wake up from my daydream and look outside at the five-foot piles of snow. Will spring ever come?

More about LAMA at: lamapocono.com

Christina´s radio show with a Latin flavor is every Sunday morning at 8:00 AM on Pocono 96.7. Tu Voz con Christina. Email: Christina@pocono967.com

                             

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Passport to Poconos – El Invierno en los Poconos

 

Querida Mari Carmen:

Todos los años, a mediados de Diciembre sientes que el clima está muy frío y emprendes un viaje a Panamá para visitar a tu hermana y alejarte del frío congelante. ¡Qué afortunada que eres!

La última vez que fui a España fue en pleno invierno y mi amiga panameña, Gabriela, me dijo: “Qué fantástico, disfrutarás del clima templado”, pero le comenté que el invierno en España es realmente invierno. A pesar de que el clima varía en diferentes partes de España, desde templado hasta muy frío, nunca viví un invierno como el de Nueva York o “Poconos”. Aquí, el clima es algo que sólo puedes explicar si lo vives. Se siente como si un cubo de hielo te golpea en la cara.

La primera vez que vi mucha nieve fue en la parte norte del estado de Nueva York. Era tan blanca que me recordó de aquellos paisajes que había visto en las películas de Navidad. Disfruté mucho lo blanca que era. “Espera hasta que se ponga como barro”, todos dijeron.

Cuando me mudé de España a la ciudad de Nueva York, experimenté las estaciones del año por primera vez. El cambio de las estaciones es una de las cosas bellas de vivir en el Noreste, siendo el invierno la primera estación del año que viví. El invierno es muy diferente en Nueva York que en los “Poconos”.

En la ciudad, todo es blanco y hermoso hasta unas horas más tarde donde la nieve se vuelve jabonosa y barrosa. Una vez que se torna como agua, caminar en la calle, esperar un autobús, tomar el subte, evitar que los automóviles te salpiquen, procurar no resbalar en la calle o bajar las escaleras del subte pueden convertirse en una aventura.

El invierno en los “Poconos” presenta un desafío diferente. He aprendido algunas cosas que no había tenido en cuenta antes, entre ellas, a vestir en forma adecuada, estar atenta a las placas de hielo y tratar de no manejar en la nieve o el hielo, y de hacerlo, a ser muy cuidadosa y manejar despacio. Luego de tomar todas las precauciones, todavía patinas; las indicaciones de tráfico dicen “doblar en la dirección de deslizamiento”, pero ¿Qué indicación es esa? ¿La dirección hacia la cual me estoy deslizando o la dirección desde la cual me deslizado? ¿El frente o la parte de atrás del automóvil?, todavía no he entendido esto.

La gente me dice cómo ellos se asustaron cuando les pasó a ellos y juraron no manejar hasta que el tiempo se mejore. Nos pasó a nosotros unas semanas atrás cuando íbamos a una cena. Mi esposo repetía: “Quizás deberíamos volver” y yo decía “Estoy segura de que llegaremos, mejorará pronto”, pero eso no sucedió y la situación sólo empeoró.

Si no estás acostumbrado a manejar, especialmente en estas condiciones donde las rutas están congeladas como hielo, te acordarás de todas tus plegarias en un segundo. Me sucedió a mí e hice un comentario de recordar de no ser tan aventurera en áreas desconocidas. Aquella noche, mis rezos fueron escuchados y el GPS de mi iPhone nos condujo diez millas a la redonda por una ruta alternativa despejada de nieve.

También disfruto nuevos placeres como caminar en la nieve y aprender sobre esquí campestre. Pero lo mejor es mirar caer los copos de nieve desde la comodidad de mi hogar. Si tienes una chimenea, lo hará más especial aún.
Estoy lista para recibir la primavera.

Translated by Celia Elizabelar –Freelance Translator & Interpreter- Email: translatespanish@hotmail.com

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Passport to Poconos – Living Between Boxes

 

Dear friend,

 Thank you for telling me that after moving six months ago, you still haven’t unpacked all your boxes. And you say it with a smile that gives me hope.

                                  ——————————————————————————-

 

When we first moved to the Poconos I started unpacking the boxes corresponding to the kitchen. I needed at least one room that was completed and would give me a sense of order and belonging. Many other boxes went into the basement for future unpacking. Over five years we never quite got to the basement, making forays down there when we needed something, searching through endless boxes until we found it or declared it lost. That’s the danger of having too much storage space.

 

When we began moving to our new house last fall, I realized it didn´t have a basement, and I panicked. Where would we put everything?  My husband´s theory of a no-basement house was that it would force us to get rid of everything we didn´t use and didn´t need. This was a good theory but tough to stick with.

 

We started moving in November, went away for the holidays in December, and came back with January 31 as the ultimate outside date. Still, things progressed at a snails pace. We kept procrastinating until we had only four days left. Our neighbor Hillary took pity on us and came over to take charge. Hillary was like a master sergeant of moving.

 

“I want to keep this and this,” I kept saying while she stared at me with a scornful look. “Why do you want to keep this? Did you use it in the last two years?”

 

Finally, my husband rented a truck and Hillary and I loaded bag after bag bound for the Salvation Army. Have you ever been to the Salvation Army loading dock in East Stroudsburg? Everything from baby car seats to video games to toasters is piled up waiting for someone to sort through it all. They don´t take clothes on the dock. You throw those in the ¨donation¨ dumpsters. What happened to the clothes? I don´t want to think about it.

 

We also emptied two storage units we had been renting, so we ended up living in a house without a basement, surrounded by endless boxes and disassembled furniture.

 

Only my cats are happy. They hop from one mountain of boxes to another. It must feel like Disneyland to them.  I wonder if we are now living in our own storage unit.

 

My husband insists that it will take us six months to unpack, “Why rush?” he asks as he waves me goodbye to go skiing for a couple of hours. I think he can’t deal with looking through all of those years of his past.

 

But getting rid of the past means leaving space for a new start. I’m looking forward to that and to having a house warming party for my new and old neighbors. When it will that happen is anyone’s guess.

 

 

Christina´s radio show with a Latin flavor is every Sunday morning at 8:00 AM on Pocono 96.7. Tu Voz con Christina. Email: Christina@pocono967.com

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Passport to Poconos – Embracing our Differences

Dear friend,

I’m just flying home from my latest trip to Barcelona, Spain, and it’s the middle of winter. Each time I fly home to the Poconos is with anticipation of being home again mixed with a little regret.

I’m going away from the world I knew for most of my life. Although I don’t feel it is the place for me to live anymore, I do miss my friends and our social routines. Spain is not like the US where you have to plan ahead of time if you want to meet someone. One of my husband’s friends invites us months ahead and I tell him “who knows where I will be by then”. In Spain, if I want a quick chat with my friend Cristina, I call her at her office and ask her if she’s free for a coffee downstairs. My friend Rosa, who has twelve hour shifts as an ER coordinator, is happy to meet for dinner after work, because, as she says: “I have to eat, even if I’m tired. It makes my day to have dinner with a friend after work”. Nothing needs be expensive; friendship is the objective.

I also like how people enjoy life in Spain with less money. They will often meet in the park, or go for a walk, or meet for an inexpensive lunch. There are many places to meet for a cup of coffee or a drink. Years ago, I lived in Segovia, a beautiful city on the plains of Spain, close to Madrid. I had the chance to meet other single women who lived there and we would get together like everybody else, for a wine or soda after work.

We would stand around the bar and get a free montadito (small open-face sandwich) with every drink. It is welcoming (and tasty). The montadito enhanced the warmth of these social encounters and gave us something to eat for the price of an inexpensive drink. I had the chance to meet many people over drinks and montaditos, some of them became friends forever. I wish American bars would catch on to this custom.

Now my friends and I, from the montadito years, meet once a year with spouses and children. Those friendships are still priceless and I feel that it’s one of the gifts my Latin culture offers. However, when somebody asks me if I would go back to live in Spain, I respond: “I like to visit and I miss some things, but my home now is in the Poconos, where I have my cats, my new friends, my new house, my new radio program Tu Voz con Christina (“Your Voice with Christina”) on Pocono 96.7 and my Pocono Record weekly column and blog post. I have a lot of blessings to count and I keep adding new chapters in to my life in the Poconos.

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Passport to Poconos – Volver al Hogar de Orígen (Spanish Version)

 

Querida Claudia:

Cuando me dijiste que necesitabas tomar vacaciones luego de regresar de unas vacaciones en Colombia, me causó risa y alivio saber que no sólo me ocurría a mí. Al principio, preparas todos los encargos y regalos. Al momento de tomar el avión, ya estás cansada de todas las compras y una vez que llegas a destino, comienza un maratón para ver a todos y hacer cosas antes del regreso. ________________________________________________________

Volver a casa, ¿es tomar vacaciones? No, no lo es, al menos para mí. Y lo que era mi hogar una vez, ya no lo es a pesar de que es familiar. Conozco mucha gente de mi infancia a quienes quiero ver para no olvidarlos. Siempre hay muchas tareas para hacer desde llenar solicitudes de residencia extranjera hasta papeles del banco que me hacen sentir como que nunca me fui; El tiempo que tengo es tan corto que llego a mi casa en Pennsylvania estresada.

Desde que me mudé a los Estados Unidos, he sido muy afortunada de poder volver a España al menos una vez al año y a veces más a menudo. Al comienzo, permitió que la transición de la mudanza fuera más tranquila. Estaba tan conectada, aunque todavía lo estoy, a mi vida de antes que hablaba con mi amigo Chuss todos los días por Skype y le decía cosas como “¿Sabías que Rose va a hacer una fiesta mañana?”.

Era la primera que le daba las noticias a mis amigos. Lo irónico es que ellos estaban todos en la misma ciudad y yo estaba viviendo a 6.000 millas de distancia. Pero siento que esta conexión tan cercana que mantenía no me permitía aprender sobre mi nuevo país y hacer nuevos amigos, tenía miedo de dejar todo eso, temerosa de que mi pasado entero desapareciera. Recientemente, Caren una amiga estadounidense me dijo “Tú ya no compartes la misma vida y no estás en el día a día de sus vidas”. Ellos tampoco están en la tuya y si no aceptas eso, no podrás vivir tu nueva vida intensamente.

Pienso que ella tiene razón. Durante el primer año en New York y más tarde en los Poconos intenté adaptarme a mi nueva vida pero siempre concentrada en mi vida de antes. Skype, Facebook, correo electrónico y aplicaciones gratuitas hicieron que mi vida a la distancia con mis viejos amigos sea más facil. Entonces cuando tenía la oportunidad de volver a España, me esforzaba por hacer una lista de todas las personas que quería ver y llenaba el calendario con las citas. Regresaba a casa exhausta y con la necesitad de unas nuevas vacaciones.

Este año fui más de una vez. Mi madre es mayor y estoy dispuesta a sufrir los inconvenientes y el desfase horario para ver su felicidad cuando me ve. Ahora me concentro en visitar a mi madre y no en las otras cosas que solían ocupar mi tiempo. Por primera vez en 8 años sentí que no tenía que correr una maratón para agendar tantas actividades y ver a mis amigos. He relegado mis viejos amigos a quienes veo cuando el tiempo me lo permite.

Mis nuevos amigos en los Poconos ocupan el lugar de esas sesiones diarias de charlas por Skype y mensajes de textos. Esta vez en España me pude relajar y mostrar mi ciudad a mi esposo. Los sentimientos con mis viejos amigos perduran intactos y cuando los visito parece que el tiempo nunca ha pasado. Finalmente acepté que soy una visita en España. No he sido olvidada y cuando nos vemos empezamos de nuevo en donde quedamos la última vez.

Pero mi hogar es donde el corazón está y mi nuevo hogar está en los Poconos.

Translated by Celia Elizabelar –Freelance Translator & Interpreter- Email: translatespanish@hotmail.com

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    Christina Luna Zabih

    Christina comes from a background in public relations and sales in Barcelona, Spain. She immigrated to New York and quickly became a segment producer at Telemundo TV– covering local events in the Hispanic community for the daily morning magazine ... Read Full
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