Los Malpaso

I had lots of imaginary friends as a little girl. I remember having long conversations with my stuffed dog Pepito and asking Libby, a Barbie doll, for advice on boys. And how could I forget my best friend Angélica, a flamboyant unicorn? I still blame her early influence for some of my most scandalous sartorial choices to this day. Sadly, as I grew up, I stopped paying as much attention to my imaginary friends, and consequently most of our relationships lapsed.

But many others have somehow persisted, remaining next to me and even managing to materialize in real life. That's how my Malpaso* family came to be. They're a series of clay sculptures that give form to the fun, beautiful, and colorful creatures that have been inside my head since childhood—and don't seem ready to leave my side anytime soon.

Each Malpaso character has a story to tell; some are fictional, some are factual, but all share a little bit of my essence. These little troublemakers are crafted with love by Colombian hands in a small pottery studio in New York City’s iconic Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood. Combining the colors and forms of the tropics with New York’s exhilarating, shape-shifting character, every Malpaso piece is surprisingly vibrant and evocative, yet friendly—and will definitely make you smile.

So come meet my real-life Malpaso family! May this be the beginning of a lifelong friendship!

https://malpasofundesign.com

*In Spanish "mal-paso" means "misstep," as in accidental creations that turned out to be great ideas, like Post-It notes, tea bags, Corn Flakes, penicillin, Slinkies, the daring apple that fell over Newton's head....you get the idea.

Along came Mad Men

I have never been a television fanatic. My TV is slightly bigger than my laptop's screen, I don't have cable, and until very recently I was one of the few persons on planet earth who had never watched Mad Men before. Until I got a hysterectomy. For those of you not familiarized with this term, a hysterectomy is the surgical removal of the uterus. It may also involve removal of the cervix, ovaries, fallopian tubes, and other surrounding structures. Ouch!

How I got myself into this mess is beyond my comprehension. I thought I was living a healthy lifestyle by eating wholesomely, exercising daily, controlling stress, meditating, calling my mom regularly, etc. Surprisingly, a nasty sneaky fibroid was living cozily inside my uterus getting fat and big at the expenses of the organic, fairly-traded, locally grown, non-GMO, ethically-sourced food that I was eating. Life, my fellow readers is as unpredictable as the NYC weather. One day we are suffering under what I like to call the 100F Satan weather and the very next we are literally searching frantically in our closets for a fall jacket because the weather is now 40F cooler.

If in your next life you choose to be a benign tumor looking for a place to live, your best bet is to aim for the uterus. This organ is considered prime real state amongst other organs since it has all the perks that you as a tumor should be looking for. It is warm, it is located near food sources (e.g. eggs full of hormones), and the view is great! I mean, the uterus has unobstructed windows to the Central Park of the human organs a.k.a. the vagina. Unfortunately, my tumor treated his Fifth Ave. penthouse condo *clears throat* i.e. my uterus- as only a nouveau riche could. He indulged in each and every-one of the seven capital sins to the point where his neighbors The Ovaries, The Fallopians, and Mrs. Cervix along with people from other neighborhoods like Doña Bladder and his husband Mr. Large Intestine unanimously voted for his eviction.

My tumor didn't leave peacefully, he put on a fight that had me resting at home limiting my physical activity to the bare minimum. I had plans of spending my recovery weeks reading all the books that I hardly have time to get to on my "normal days" but in reality I could hardly concentrate since I was taking painkillers so strong that had me high as a kite or sleepy for the most part of the day. I needed something light and entertaining. And so I stumble upon Mad Men, and my life changed. Well, not really, but I loved the show so much that I binged watched 7 seasons in less than 4 weeks. I went from never turning on my TV to hardly turning it off. Mad Men and their incessant smoking and drinking habits kept me sane during one of the hardest yet most inspiring and life-changing events of my life. It also thought me that when in despair look for the silver lining, and so I did.

So to make a long story even longer, here are the Top-5 Lessons learned form a Hysterectomy -and Mad Men:

1. Be grateful to your body. We have heard this one before along with the obnoxious hashtag blessed but I mean, literally look at your legs right now and thank them for taking you places, look in the mirror and thank your eyes for letting you see the beauty of this world, even thank your reproductive organs for all the orgasms that you've been able to experience in your lifetime.  Never take your body for granted. Stop the self-criticism. Trust me, your thighs are not as wide as you think they are. You are perfect. In a world full of Betty Drapers be a Joan Holloway.

2. Embrace Change."And let's also say that change is neither good or bad. It simply is. It can be greeted with terror or joy. A tantrum that says "I want it the way it was". Or a dance that says "Look, something new". Don Draper.

3. Be patient. To be more precise, be a patient patient. Good things take time. Recovery takes time. We love instant gratification but your cells don't work that way. They are working hard to keep you healthy but getting anxious and expecting fast results are the kryptonite of recovery. I was directed by my doctor to take 6 weeks off from work. This forced "vacation" halted my life on its track. No going to the gym, no pilates, no yoga, no dancing. Thankfully, I felt better with every day that went by and slowly but surely I was regaining my mobility. My body reminded me daily that everything was coming together. My body had my back.

4. You are the captain of your destiny. Let's get real y'all. If I were to tell you that you have the power of becoming anything you want what would you do in your daily life? Would you quit your job? Would you get out of your long dead relationship? Would you start that beautiful dreamy boutique you've always wanted? Well guess what? You have the power of being the person you've always wanted to be because you are the CAPTAIN of your life. Stop coming up with lousy excuses. And now...I slowly disappear.

5. Get Netflix and Chill.  Ok, this one is completely unrelated to being in a hospital, or even being sick but I want to thank the Academy, my producer, my make-up artist, and all the others who made this possible specially Don Draper & Co. Thank you Mad Men characters for being so amazing in every way.

So for now I'm going back to my old ways where my TV is just a decorative accessory never to be turned on. I am going back to my "Hey Google, play Tchaikovsky" days and I'm going to pay more attention to my cat Nacho. Gone are the days of addictive binge watching. Let the new adventures begin.

With love,

Gloria E. Duque
Hysterectomy survivor, Unicorn Fantastique, Captain of My Own Life, Sculptor, Bad Ass, and CEO of Malpaso Fun Design. More on this soon...

The Beauty of Nonexistence

Por Estefanía Malpaso
Desde la Tierra del Nunca Jamás 

We met when we were six years old in a galaxy far, far away. We went to kindergarten together, laughed our way thru the preparatory years, faced the awkwardness of high school as a team, and eventually parted our ways when we started college. I never saw him again until last week when he surprised me with an impromptu visit to my work place. I didn't recognize him at first. I still remembered him as the shortest boy in class who suffered from severe acne and acute flat feet that forced him to wear awful orthopedic boots for years. Surprisingly, he turned out to be a hot ass human, an alfa male, a venti-pumpkin-spice-latte with foamy almond milk, a delicious chalupa.

My busy schedule, and the fact that I live in NYC -also known as the loneliest city in the world- limits my possibilities of finding appropriate mates; and by appropriate I mean attractive, heterosexual, and with decent manners. I can't stand the Homo neanderthalensis better known as the dude that burps, farts, and chest bumps his other Neanderthal buddies while watching football in a sports bar on any given Sunday. So if a hot man with an apparent interest in the opposite sex, that exposes a gentle demeanor knocks on your door (or shows up at your work place) you: a. Welcome that trouble-maker with a big grin on your face, b. Tell you friend Tina to shut the hell up with her never-ending "A man is not going to knock on your door, girl!" Well guess what Tina? He just did, he just did! and c. Give thanks to whatever superior force you believe in -or not- for this miracle because the possibilities of the described above scenario are almost none-existent (Hallelujah!)

I followed my very unreliable animal instinct and went out with my newly found hunk that night. After several glasses of wine and given the fact that I had recently ended my long term relationship –uh, three months- with whom I thought was my perfect match (the dude exposed early signs of what I like to refer to as tacañería crónica) I gave myself permission to indulge in the pleasures that only human male testosterone can provide. We danced, we drank wine, we kissed, we bit and sucked each other’s lower lip, we enjoyed each other, and we didn't want it to end. But it did, and at mid-night I turned into a pumpkin. I touched his perfect beard with my lips one more time and sent him -and his blue balls- home alone with the promise of calling him the next day.

Basilides, an early Gnostic religious teacher, believed that the best things are those that don’t happen. Things that remain in the “nothingness” are pure and perfect, away from expectations, degradation, decay, and eventually death. I wanted my "love story" to remain in the beautiful world of nonexistence. I wanted it to be perfect, I wanted it to never end, I wanted it to be magical and in order for that to happen it was better if it never occurred. Next day I woke up to three missed calls from "hunk". I kept my word and called him back but only to wish him safe travels. Shortly after he returned to his hometown he wrote a post on his Facebook page describing his experiences in The Big Apple: "New York City, you are such a delicious tease...you left me wanting more of you". With a huge grin in my face I typed back: "Cheers for the inconclusive cities, relationships, and situations that leave us craving a -hopefully- soon to be released sequel. Cheers for the never ending stories. Cheers for the beauty of nonexistence"

That One Day

This short post goes for the outcasts, the outsiders, the black sheep, the revels, the ones that refuse to walk the expected path, the glittered unicorns, the magnificent mermaids, the angels with invisible wings, the smilers, the unconditional lovers, the brutally honest, the brave enough to follow their hearts and their dreams, the ones that realized that the time to live is NOW, the doers, the veggie eaters, the animal lovers, the lions and lionesses, the wise enough to listen to their inner cat, the almond-butter-and-jelly-sandwich fans, the nude sun bathers, the weirdos that chose to stay that way, the ones that not settle for anything less than a soul-deep electrifying connection, the courageous who never force an outcome, because they know damn well that "Sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck" (thank you Dalai Lama) and the unexpected and unplanned for is where the flavor of life resides. The best is yet to come...

Miu Miu Women's Tales #12

Sex (or the lack of) and the City

On a cold winter night back in February 2015 and upon my return from a three-month sabbatical in Colombia I met Estela my real estate agent who amidst the very competitive housing market in New York City somehow magically pull out of her sleeve my beautiful –yet tiny- rental studio in the very chic area of Greenwich Village also known as New York’s Gold Coast at a non-obscene yet still scandalous for other parts of the globe monthly price. Am I bragging? Fuck yeah! This minuscule -and overheated- piece of floor plan smaller than some people’s closets makes me feel like a Latina version of Carrie Bradshaw and for those of us devoted Sex and the City fans this is a life time achievement, so allow me to boast like a spoiled 5th Avenue kid (Nah nah nah nah nah!)

One might think that -as the show suggested- living in the city and having an adventurous fashion sense should be enough to live a Carrie-esque love life. Unfortunately that is not the case. Even though the city is full of fantastic people, finding a fulfilling love connection can be a frustrating process. Ice breaking face to face at a bar or any other social venue has been replaced by pointless Tinder and/ or Bumble virtual chatting that usually leads to and even more senseless real life encounter with the non-photoshoped-enhanced version of the object of your temporary virtual infatuation. You are expecting Mr. Fantastic when in reality you are stuck with Mr. Disappointment.

After a handful of not-so-fulfilling first dates I decided to change my strategy completely. I was not going to look "for love". I made the decision of becoming the best person I could be for my own benefit and satisfaction. I started a passionate love relationship with myself (insert dirty thoughts here). I took myself to the fancier restaurants, the most romantic beaches, and the chicest clubs. I also bought myself flowers and treat my skin to facials and my body to massages. I became my very best friend. I even took myself to the coolest Valentine's party where I met awesome people who just like me embraced their singleness with pride!

Once I dropped the self-imposed expectations of finding a romantic partner and became my best friend, I fell in love with life. Having a loving relationship with myself has been a very fulfilling and liberating experience. The "need" of finding a boyfriend has been replaced with the joy of understanding that no one can "complete" me because I am already whole and that my lovers is the ultimate life time achievement.

Besos and shine like the stars that you are!

Gloria

Vintage dress directly imported from my aunt's closets. 

All pictures by CoCo. 

-"Is she back?" 

-"Maybe she has never left."

Celebrate Everything

hap·pi·ness
ˈhapēnəs/
noun the state of being happy (also known as one's inability to grow up).

Be happy. Celebrate everything*. Celebrate your life, your home, your family, your friends, your work, your food, your pets, your beautiful body, your city, your neighbors. Celebrate your problems because without them you wouldn't grow as a person. Celebrate your broken heart because now you've developed enough compassion to realize that we are all fighting a hard battle. Celebrate that husband, boyfriend, lover that got away because love when not reciprocated will flow back and soften and purify the heart. Celebrate everything, but most importantly, celebrate YOURSELF. 

Thank you to the beautiful stranger in Washington Square Park that somehow got involved in the awkward rapidly turned awesome experience of taking pictures to a complete crazy stranger wearing a fury Michael Kors jacket and American Apparel disco pants (have you noticed how many times I have worn these pants in this blog?) 

*Thank you secret male collaborator #1 for the where-the-hell-are-you-guayaba? e-mail. Thanks to people like you I keep this crazy project called The Guayaba Project alive. 

Peace and Love to all,

Gloria

Cashew the Mouse

In a heartfelt attempt to prove her love to me, my cat Necia honored me a few weeks ago with a very special gift. Nothing spells love like a freshly killed warm dead mouse next to your semi-naked sleepy body at 3:35 in the morning. I jumped out of bed when I realized that I was sleeping next to a dead rodent and as fast as I could I opened the entrance's door for my apartment and ran outside to the hallway. Semi-naked, shaking and petrified from what just had happened I stood still for at least thirty minutes incapable of coming back inside. Why would I? There was a monster over my 500 thread Egyptian cotton sheets!

Necia followed me to the hallway and stood next to me with a peculiar and surprised look in her face as in: "What happened mom? You didn't like the color?" I didn't want to appear like an ungrateful human so I held her in my arms and reassure her that her gift was the most thoughtful and sweet present I have ever received! Also, she was the only object at hand to cover my naked mammary glands.

After the initial shocking reaction started to faint my sleepy and sometimes juvenile brain began drawing possible scenarios on how to solve the conundrum at hand. These solutions included but were not limited to:

1. Go downstairs half naked using Necia as a bra and ask the concierge for help: Pros: I didn't have to deal with the monster over my bed. Cons: Nudity. (I can't believe I am listing Nudity as a negative thing. What is wrong with this world!)
2. Knock on my neighbor's door: I moved into this building in February and I still don't know who lives next door. As far as I know he can be a psychopath or my next husband. Or both. Pros: I get to know my neighbor. Extra points for being half naked ;) Cons: Possible very bad first impression.  
3. Call my I.C.E. (in case of emergency contact): Is this really worth waking some innocent soul at four in the morning? Yes. This is what I consider an emergency! I am terrified of rodents! Pros: Some other person takes care of the 2" monster laying breathless over my bed. Cons: I would most certainly lose my I.C.E. contact, for good. 
4. Call an ex: Pros: None. Cons: All.
5. Get some balls and go inside and take care of the problem myself: Does this mean that I need to face my fears rather than running away from them? Do I look like a grown up?! (FYI: At this point almost two hours had gone by and I was still petrified of coming back inside). Pros: I really don't see anything positive about putting a dead mouse inside a plastic bag. Cons: A dead mouse inside a plastic bag.

As tempting as Options #1 thru #4 sounded, I chose Option #5. I "manned up" and started walking back inside to face my worst nightmare. First I strategically placed an empty plastic bag next to the poor little thing (at this point I started somehow to feel compassion for this mouse) hoping for his body to miraculously jump inside the bag. Obviously this did not happen, so I grabbed my broom and as I stood as far away as possible from the crime scene I pushed his breathless little body into the bag. Then I lifted the bag with the far end of the broom stick and I walked for what seemed like a mile to the garbage room where I threw his body down the chute. Walking back to my apartment I felt like a heroine for being able to take care of business by myself but also a little ridiculous for blowing this issue out of proportion. Is a dead mouse worth losing a good two hours of beauty sleep? Probably not.

Cashew's death (after everything this mouse and I had gone thru he deserves to have a name) taught me an important lesson in life: my "problems", my "fears", my "worst nightmares" are basically a matter of perception. If instead of looking at the "problem" from the usual point of view we chose for once to look at things from a different perspective ("Gloria, it's just a tiny little dead mouse and not a monster"), we will start to notice that reality sometimes needs to be revised because our conditioned self ("I am afraid of rodents therefore I have to run away from this beast!") is the source of it. Cashew also reminded me that one of the best decisions I have made in my life is to have adopted Necia fourteen years ago. I provide her with food and love and in exchange she vomits over my rugs and keeps uninvited guests at bay. I have never seen her as a pest control method, but God bless her and her fast feline reflexes!

Sorry Cashew, after all the stressful moments I'm sure Necia put you through you were indeed a beautiful gift. Now that I know that I can take care of any of your family members all by myself  (with Necia's help, fine!) I know I can conquer the world!

50 Things that make me Happy :)

1. Putting almond butter on anything and everything.
2. Sabado Gigante on Saturday evenings. 
3. The Ocean. I just love the gentle and mellow yet powerful nature of the waves. I am sure that one day I will live by the sea.
4. Waking up every morning at 5:53am sans alarm. Sometimes I go back to sleep, but the idea of my brain being so punctual just mesmerizes me!
5. Getting a foam mustache with green tea latte. 
6. Necia my cat.
7. Necia walking on a leash in the park. We've made so many friends!
8. Necia massaging my belly. 
9. Mister Softee's melody. 
10. Dancing! Specially salsa. Can't get the Cali out of the girl.
11. Dogs in elevators. They are always so happy to see you come in, even if they have never met you before. Why can't we wag our tails at strangers the way dogs do? The world would be such a better place.
12. The smell of freshly brewed coffee.
13. Avocados.
14. Barré Burn classes. Yes, that shit burns your butt! The good burn tho...
15. Old ladies with extravagant outfits. 
16. Smiling at strangers. 
17. When a stranger smiles back at me. Extra points if the stranger happens to be male and handsome ;)
18. The Temple of Dendur at The Metropolitan Museum. 
19. Barnes and Noble in Union Square. I can spend hours there browsing at books. 
20. Facials, massages, hair washes...you get the idea.
21. The first kiss and all the subsequent kisses.
22. This song. 
23. The scent of fresh lilies. 
24. Hitting zeroes on the scale at the salad bar (freak!)
25. Buying socks.
26. Practicing yoga.
27. Playing futbol. 
28. My mom's lentil's soup.
29. Washington Square Park early in the morning.
30. My birthday!
31. Listening to audio books. Now I am into Eckhart Tolle, not only he's one of the best spiritual teachers of this century but his mellow voice has the capacity to relax me like no other. 
32. Coconut popsicles! 
33. Coconut body cream.
34. Drinking piña colada by the poolside of the Standard Hotel in Miami. Pure bliss! 
35. Soap bubbles.
36. Snowboarding! Yay!
37. Fresh laundry scent.
38. Ginger cookies. 
39. Croissants with black coffee. In Paris. 
40. Napping in the park after lunch in the middle of a summer work day.
41. New York City. The good, the bad, and the ugly. 
42. People that don't give a crap about what others think. Today I saw a girl wearing a Wonder Woman cape walking down 5th Avenue. She didn't think she was Wonder Woman, she was indeed Wonder Woman!
43. Squirrels a.k.a. the fancy rodents. They look all elegant running around the park like a rat with a fur coat. 
44. Getting a cold shower in the middle of a hot summer day.
45. Burning incense. Dragon Blood scent to be more exact. 
46. Dreaming that I fly.
47. Waking up from a bad dream and realize it was a nightmare. Phew!
48. When the Starbucks barista draws a smiley face next to my name.
49. Taking off my shoes when i get home, and my socks, basically getting rid of all clothing!
50. Guava and mozzarella cheese sandwiches. FYI this is my specialty, so feel free to stop by anytime soon. Meeting with friends is my all-time favorite thing that makes me happy!

Eternal Summer 2015

Au Revoir Summer!

Thanks for everything you brought us. Good luck in southern latitudes and I hope you miss us so much that you come next year a little earlier full of life and beautiful energy. 

As a South American girl living in New York you know how much I miss you when you are not around. However, I must admit that I have developed a strange love affair with your colleague, Mr. Winter. But don't get jealous, you are still my one and only!

Love you always,

G

Amateur life guards provided to you by Guachafita Productions. 

Infinitas gracias a Guachafita Films & Co. por las fotos, las risas, la compañía, y el inmenso amor que me han brindado por años. Love you guys, let's keep this eternal summer in our hearts for ever. 

We are Love

"If every eight-year-old in the world is thought meditation, we will eliminate violence from the world within one generation". Dalai Lama

We might not be eight-year-old any more but we still have time to make the world a better place (and our own minds!) It's not too complicated, start small. Just find five minutes a day (if you want to stay in stillness more time that's even better), sit down quietly and breathe. Pay attention to the air coming in and out. Don't force anything and allow the thoughts to pass by as they please. Don't judge your feelings. Just observe them. Promise me you will do it, and after you are done go out there and smile at a stranger. Go ahead! Make me proud!

Love letter to New York City

Dear New York City,

I recently moved to a beautiful studio apartment near Washington Square Park. The location is great, the building couldn’t be prettier (it has an elevator! Thank you for that), and overall the place is fabulous; but TINY! Tiny as in 300 square feet tiny. This of course shouldn't come as a surprise to you since you are used to people paying obscene amounts of money for petite spaces just to be able to call you "home".

I'm not writing to complain about my apartment. You and I have shared a beautiful on and off relationship for the past sixteen years. You thought me the meaning of unconditional love, otherwise I could not explain why on earth I would put up with your brutal winters, your humid and sticky summers, and your many times rude behavior if it wasn't for the fact that I love you. I just wanted to share with you how living in 300 square feet of wood flooring, Gypsum board walls and windows has changed my persona.

Living in such a small place turned me into a neat freak. When you have to share 300 square feet with a feline, when your bicycle encroaches into your kitchen, and when your "living room", "dining room", "bedroom", and "TV room" are all the same space you have to take organization to a whole new level. Remember that box full of music CD's that I kept holding onto when I was living in Brooklyn? Gone. How about those four pillows and comforters I used to keep on the unreachable upper shelf of my coat closet (what a luxury that is!) in my two-bedrooms two-bathrooms Philadelphia's flat that my guests enjoyed so many times? Gone. I even had to get rid of the guests* because quite honestly New York, they don't fit inside my place. Basically, I got rid of absolutely EVERY single item that wasn't essential to my survival.

Sometimes is difficult to understand that the purpose of relationships is to teach us lessons, and you my dear city had been the best teacher. You thought me how good it feels to live with less "stuff", to consume less, to appreciate more, and to realize that there's really no need (or available space!) to have twenty pair of shoes when you can only wear one pair at a time. Om sweet Ommmmmmm!

I hope we keep sharing many more years full of adventures and happy memories. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to be part of your history and thank you for all the good things you've been providing me with for the past sixteen years. My apartment -and my 5'-5" petite body- are living proof that all good things come in small packages (size does matter after all!).

With love,

Gloria

*Unless we are talking about a handsome male guest, in which case one shall make a huge effort and for once be hospitable and allow said guest to spend the night even if that means that the cat has to sleep outside by the hallway.

The Blog is back!

I decided to create a blog a few years ago out of pure boredom. I'm not going to lie -I was sitting in front of my computer back in 2011 and the only productive things I was doing were using oxygen and warming my chair. So I started blogging. And for many months (maybe years), it was my escape valve. The main idea behind the blog was to write about the things I love. In its early days I wrote about fashion, architecture, art, my cats, my trips, etc. Things were fabulous, I had a writing routine, I had a great photographer -whom decided to quit shortly after I started, but let's leave the details of that story for another entry- and inspiration was flowing freely. Life was a wave, and I was riding it like a pro.

Little did I know my "perfect" routine was about to go bananas and the universe was ready to deal me a hard slap. Now, to be fair, slapping doesn't necessarily need to be a bad thing, depending on your perspective, but the change was still a huge, unexpected turn in my life, and I was not prepared for it.  The things and relationships I thought I would never lose were gone in a very short period of time and I was left with the last precious thing a human being can posses: myself (And also my cats ;)).

But I'm back from my hiatus and like The Phoenix I'm arising from the ashes. I'm going to start writing again -just like before, about the things I love the most. Some of my priorities might have changed a little bit, and in addition to fashion, architecture, art, my cat, and my trips, I'm also going to try and add one more thing: relationships. I'm in no way an expert -but you know what? My heart has been on a wild ride during the past three years, and I think I've graduated with honors from Relationships for Dummies 101: How To Forgive, Be Compassionate, and Let Go. So to all of you out there struggling with a difficult relationship, trust me on something: You are not alone, -This too shall pass. Change your perspective if you can, even if just a little, and trust that this situation is a blessing in disguise. You might just not see it yet.

I'm also becoming my own photographer until I can find someone who can fill Coco's shoes. Those shoes are going to be very difficult to fill, but if you have time to spare, or if you're just as bored as a monkey on a bonsai tree call me, text me, email me, let's have dinner, let's interact!

I'm still not sure where this blog (or life) will take me. I get antsy sometimes and often wish I had a DeLorean time machine like in Back to the Future to be able to see where the wave I call life is sweeping me, but certain things can't be rushed. You need to trust the universe and its divine timing. You can't rush a plant to give you a flower, -it only happens when its ready. But when it happens, it's a miracle. Such is life.

So consider this the un-official re-launching ceremony of The Guayaba Project. Let's agree to inscribe this important event in the record of human history as "The Dawning of the Era of The Guayaba Project 2.0". Let the progeny of my boredom spread its wings and fly. Let the madness continue!

My Moral Dilemma

Did I tell you that my dad was a veterinarian? Did I tell you that we grew up surrounded by animals (the non-human type)? I guess I like to emphasize this chapter in my life as it defined many of the principles that I conform to nowadays. Most Colombian families eat meat for lunch everyday, otherwise the meal is consider to be "incomplete". My family wasn't the exception; but I was never a meat lover. I never enjoyed the taste of it and I always liked animals a lot, to the point where I couldn't enjoy eating them. At a very early age I started questioning why we respected the lives of some animals and not others. Why was the life of a dog more valuable than that of a pig? Why couldn't we raise a chicken as the family pet? Who gave us the power to decide what animals we eat and what animals we keep as pets? Aren't we a little too anthropocentric? My mom and dad sure regretted bringing me to this world. 

I had the perfect profile for a vegan animal lover. And I actually made drastic changes in my life to accommodate my deep love for our furry friends. I limited my meat intake to once a week (see side note A) and as soon as I could afford my own groceries I started buying only free-range-kind-of-happy-life-happy-animal meat. But the moral dilema of my insatiable love for leather goods (e.g. shoes! See side note B) remains in my brain like a piece of bubblegum stuck in my hair. This dilema tends to grow snow-ball-style every time I visit farms where I can enjoy the company of this gigantic and beautiful animals that we nonchalantly refer to as cows. 

What can an animal lover do with a love affair with fancy leather goods? Ignore the fact that those Ferragamo shoes that I flirtatously refer to as "lovers"  come from a beautiful calf? Close my eyes and apply the out of sight out of mind principle? As of now dear readers I don't have an answer to this dilema. To promise never to buy leather goods again, sadly is an assertion that I'm not ready to abide by just yet.  However,  after spending a whole day in the country side with Celeste, Penelope, Carlota and her baby, Rosina, Turrón the bull, and a couple of gossipy cows that came to see who the new human was, I have made the conscious decision of buying less often and smarter (i.e. better quality), and when given the option, I'm choosing non-animal products over leather (Stella McCartney I heart you deeply). 

Before leaving the farm I secretly whispered in Rosina's ear the following: "I love you, please forgive me". Did I tell you I love animals? 

Side Note A: When I say meat I mean pig, cow, turkey, fish or chicken. The thought of eating any other animal disgusts me. Is it really necessary to eat frogs, bunnies, or guinea pigs? I don't think so. Foie Gras lovers....go fly a kite. 

Side Note B: I don't buy fur or any other animal material (i.e. sheep skin, dog or cat fur. Damn you Ugg boots!). My dilema is only and purely with leather a.k.a. cow's skin. Any other animal byproduct is off limits. 

"The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated"

― Mahatma Gandhi

Location: 

"El Tabor" My family farm, a wonderful place where I can connect to nature and enjoy its greatness. 

Thank you my beautiful cow models for being so gentle and allowing me to hang out with you :)