Mario is a friend whose nationality, as a matter of fact, is an issue that is not so easy to explain. Argentinian born, he grew up in Barcelona, but normally travels with an Italian passport. When he speaks he can easily switch from a pure Baires accent to one from somewhere in the north of Spain. But the looks in his eyes, when he's listening to you, is hundred percent porteño, tano porteño. His lips, teeth and eyes all have a share in the wholesome smile that hangs from his taut and thick brows.
He's currently looking for a job. One more time. He's on his way to Singapore where, as a chemical engineer, he's going to contact the numerous agencies scouting professionals in the hi-tech sectors.
Far from being affected by the widespread panic that is shaking the job market worldwide, Mario, like myself, is fairly relaxed. Who knows, maybe we're just two irresponsible fools. Then, with an iced bottle of Leo still dripping in his hand, he tells me his point of view. “I have four or five good friends back home. Good friends, real friends. One of them has a really nice position in his company: good salary, responsibility, promotions, respect. As for the others, they should already have left their jobs!”
Talking about jobs, I remember a nice one from Viridiano, another friend, who is also continuously swinging from a contract to another. “...why worry, Fabio? We're a generation of temporary employees...”.
Carla, a former schoolmate and a good friend also, back from a trip to New York, sends me an email. She tops it up with a juicy literary cherry: “...what can I say? I don't fit in there. A city like Seville is more suitable for me. I'm a tapas kind of woman, a little bit of everything. In New York there is too much of just a little...Do you know what I mean?” Oh yes, I do know what you mean. As for myself, the day I will visit New York, I will not be able to look at it without the filter of the past, through the eyes of Fitzgerald or Henry Roth, Warhol, Scorsese or even F.D. Roosevelt. If I know myself well enough, I can say that I'm a person who lives today with the enthusiasm (and possibly the immaturity) of a child. A child, yes, but one of his grandfather's time...
© 2009 Fabio Pulito