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guess all of you have been captivated by images like this, in fact, already so, just look at your reviews travel and outings.



I certainly yes, it is very young, the itch of the great road trips and bike trail poisoned me, hit the road in search of unlimited horizons. But as it happens to almost everyone, the list of those that I have left to do is so long that I will not live long enough to carry it out.
For personal circumstances, I have a couple of years without leaving, or at most outlets of one or two days, but I have a desire to do it again, so I go the eye and the heart when I read some of your interesting projects.
As some of you know in September 2005, I could buy it GS, a partner of the forum, with the money I got for the loss of the Transalp.

This photo is from the day you gave me, I went to have a stroll by the Montseny Tourance had mixed wheels, BMW touring bags and a top case Shad 48 and the screen, larger than the adventure.
Here you will see no luggage, and change a little

The first transformation I did, after falling almost standing on was not done absolutely nothing, I decided to put the Touratech cylinder guards and a little fog guard image. Valentina Fazer of motostrail.com and I had been warned of the dangers of looking at this catalog, but the body is weak.

next step and especially for the winter was to put the Continental TKC-80, the image and much more acercádose change the image that I like.

Then he put the engine protection bars, to prevent further falling behind in the mud.


Lately, thanks to the fellow who is all Llull an engineer, and following his sage advice I have launched a series of initiatives and home transformations and useful: KUOTRETECH.
I removed the rear fender, putting a plate

and stand guard ...


The new look of the bike each time I like ...



arrangements This home is a vice ...
few days before having the sprockets with the Transalp had bought a Leo Vince exhaust, I loved how it sounded ...
The box with the newly-built escape was in the car park and the truth for several months did not know what to do with the ... I thought about selling it, even put a post in the forum of the transalps in case anyone wanted to take ... but I felt bad ... when I bought the BMW, not even thought about the escape, but an idea slowly took hold of my mind ... the truth is I thought it was a specific escape the Transalp, but could adapt to the BMW??
I made my inquiries and investigations, even wrote to the factory to make sure and Superbike oval exhaust is the same, the only thing that changes is the size and fixations ... Could it be that the diameter of the tubes do not coincide but the option existed, it was to have a little imagination and time ...
So one Friday afternoon I got to work ...
I took the exhaust pipe of the BMW and pulled out of the box the Leo Vince ... not wanting to actually remove the catalyst and the original silencer task was much easier than I thought, only had to provide me with a piece of tube 50 mm in diameter 4 cm. fit well to input and output tubarro catalyst / silent ..
The result you can see it:



And from the other side:


As you know the bike has not won anything in return, or at least to reduce nearly four kg weight, very little, but in terms of driving enjoyment .. . good is fantastic, the Leo Vince makes no noise, not an escape akrapovich type, or the like, not the sound is much more serious, like a deep purr, very pleasant and the feeling of going on a bike, motorcycle increased ...

Well, I know I need to polish the aesthetic detail of the connection is so homely as it is, but I have to travel to the city to find something to hide that connection, just cut and weld the bearing ... as I found nothing that would satisfy ma, I decided to give some paint heatproof those used in paint charcoal stoves and firewood.
to see what you think ...




the moment we'll leave it to see if I find something better ...

As I could not go on vacation, I could save a Eurolido I've invested to further adapt the bike to my tastes - not requirements - for although the R 1150 GS met all my expectations too well, we always want that something else ...
First I have rally since Touretech footrests, wider and comfortable to drive for long journeys on foot and ...


As you can see also the lift of the brake pedal Wunderlich ...

lever of change (change Koutretech) I have expanded with a piece of steel tube with a cuff which was home I was going to put the Kawasaki, so that the rubber do not dance steel I've put a bridle. Also
a lifting / About MVMotorrad handlebars.


With these ergonomic modifications, the truth is that the riding position and comfort, both circulating standing, will be subjective ... I have a feeling of control over the bike has won several points.
Some - the most Purete-berated me, "but they have not yet taken the stirrup rubbers ??!!", no I have not done yet ... llevava even when mixed and still do a lot more road tracks, when assembling the tacos - September-October - if I can ski outings and is the take away ...
a purely aesthetic transformation has been putting on the caps side Touretech yellow mandarin, have no utility, but in my opinion makes it more beautiful ...


Ah! and the most important transformation, as usual, is not seen ... I have placed a sports air filter, brand Blue (Green Filters)

that if that was a surprise ... not all bikes if the change is so remarkable, but in my case, I can say that the bike has become much more cheerful, lap up more easily, I think it accelerates a lot more, not if you've won something power, but the impression given ...
What does the propaganda:
filters for BMW "Blue" have been designed for us by Green, an experienced manufacturer and excellent production methods. They are manufactured to a high standard of quality while ensuring greater airflow. Is the best choice among the other similar products, the low pressure in the factory assembly ensures that there is a small amount of rubber to delve into the cotton sheets (more spillage = less filtering area).

Some features:

• The folds of cotton create a 10-20% increase Air filter. This allows a greater volume of air intake and meets the needs of combustion.
• Use 2 layers of tissue compared to other brands that use 4 layers of gauze. There are 3 benefits to woven cotton: it's thinner, holds oil better and stronger.
• rubber molds Blue filter are almost exact around the folds, maximizing the filtration area. The air flow is better than one of the same characteristics of injection molded.
• Blue filters are coated with oil, creating a positive magnetic charge in the mesh, which attracts particles negatively charged dust. Dust and dirt builds around the mesh to form a tunnel, allowing the cotton to remain cleaner for maximum airflow.
• Maintenance every 50.000km, or once a year. In tough conditions, you must clean after each use.
• design folds, the folds are parallel to the width of the filter. This makes it more rigid, reducing air leaks.
• Stainless steel mesh.
• Adaptive Edge. Boxes, plastic air filter may lose or distort the original symmetry. The contours adaptive focus properly sealing the filter.
• Easy to install, just replace the original with Blue.
• One million miles.
• Adhesive warning not to pull.
I do not know if all the bikes the result is the same, but the filter change I recommend it very much ... There is an over-investment, you have to 1,000,000 km filter, it says the propaganda, at least, if only truth in a 10 part compensates you and annual changes and the change will not say it is spectacular, but at least it's a big surprise really, really nice ...
Well, all pigs dog has his San Martin, we say around here when something seems to be finishing strongly ...
a few days ago I finished the draft of my GS aesthetic transformation, with the addition of two improvements to consider essential view of performance. I located
preowned Ohlins shock absorbers of a colleague who is havia Adventure Canvi his wonderful 1150 for the 1200 Adv. have something else to run about 4 cm. making it more comfortable and safer driving especially in off-road a few miles of use, lifetime warranty, reasonably priced, you know the Ohlins shock absorbers are not the best the world, but ... Showa mine also a source, already had the same kms. the bike, and although they are still well worth saving before it spoiled for tomorrow, who knows if I will follow the example of that I sold them.
Front:


Behind:




The more things I make myself to the bike, the more I realize how well thought out is to make everything easily accessible, logical and easy, no wonder she has been so successful among travelers, adventurers seeking make long journeys in places where you need to make some fudge.
And the last change was the placing of the halogen headlights Wunderlich home ...



I have connected to the short with a switch ... If you already know ... is not legal to say ... in any case should be connected with the long, but one of the ore obvious defects of Gs, the light, or rather the lack of light at certain moments when you most need it, ie, gives a powerful light bulb light line, but very narrow so that when entering corners, the sides left in the dark with the consequent danger ... with long light is more than enough but of course dazzle to vehicles moving in opposite directions.
For my part I say that every day in the dark circle in the morning and afternoon one day, so I had to find a solution. if I stop the Mossad or the GC, I explain, they know better than me, and if they are fools, as desmontaré ... and the next day ... assemble them again.
here you can see the light they give, I have focused somewhat lower than the main light to illuminate the ground a few meters of the bike:


far
this is the story of the aesthetic transformation of my GS, I know there are colleagues who do, have done and make changes much better and more radical in their mounts, achievements are obviously much higher than anything I could dream of doing, but you should consider that I had hardly done anything mechanical or motorcycles or cars I've had so far.
the moment I have run the "quarters" no ideas, when I can I remove the front fender, but I have to find ways that water and mud will not discharged directly into the engine and my boots / pants




do you think, I like how it has been? It's been over a year of small changes, to ensure that the aesthetics of the bike is closer to what I wanted ...
As you pick up Eurolido few hundred more, I have designed two changes, a ceramic clutch disc and perhaps the camshaft of the R 1100, but for now this is the history.

As always I hope your comments.

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Ayoztli Huitzipin another visit. Raul Antonio Reding tale. March 1996.

For months I dedicated myself to follow it, to observe. I studied his every move, their habits, I memorized your schedule. She was beautiful and different from before it. He looked so sad, so lonely, I thought it would make a favor to capture it and take it with me. Their wings and feathers shining like fine lint, swayed while flying near me. I spent sleepless nights to assemble a safer strategy to take me to hunt. I designed and built the trap taking care of every detail. Place meat and sat down to wait. She planned, approached, looked askance at the device, then away, shy, but invested with a dignity that made me want her more. It took one, two, three weeks that I spent all my time to capture. On Saturday, the fourth week, she moved closer to the trap. He landed on it and after a hesitation, fell. It was mine at last.

I took her to my house, and placed in a cage large and well painted. What he had wanted, now living with me. I fed her and cleaned daily. He turned each of its cravings. The adored. My friends began to murmur that was chique too, who did not pay much attention. And leave that fucking bird. I ignored them, I thought I envied. I walked away from them and their advice. She grew. It looked more and more healthy and more alive. The time came that my words could only refer to it, my ears just heard their chirping and my eyes are not spent on anything but admire its smooth lines, clean, disturbing.

A sunny Sunday, I woke up sick. I had nausea, fever and rashes on the body. I panicked and called the doctor, who came to see me and after careful consideration, I ordered some tests. I had always been a very healthy man. The test results arrived. The doctor looked at me worried, almost with pity when he read this paper. You very rare disease in humans. It is produced by a microorganism that lives only in animals. Damage occurs deep in the central nervous system and immunity. In the early stages, the patient suffers from the symptoms you've had so far. In the second stage, suffering from memory loss, feelings of anxiety, palpitations, chest tightness. In the third, often arise as a complication and infection after the virus attacks the motor neurons to cause an irreversible loss of reason, blindness, deafness and eventually death, affecting the autonomous movements of the heart and lungs.

I swallow, breathe deep, bitter mouth, the heart becomes gum. But then, is not curable? Am I gonna die? We can try an experimental aggressive treatment with antibiotics, but I can not lie, Alberto, the odds of success are slim. In truth this is a very rare case in humans. I cried in the office, as only I know it. I decided to start treatment immediately. My world became injections in the morning, pills every hour, ointments and powders for the sores that had formed all over my body. I became a living pustule. In the front left me a hard bump that were calcifying. The skin on my hands became dry, leathery and my fingers together in a bloody mass-like claw. I do not hurt so much what was happening to me as the fact that no deal with my pet.

One afternoon in which the doctor went to check, I asked: what is it that you have in the cage in the garden? It is my pet. Get rid of it. Why? You can not have pets at home, you know that your illness comes from them. It is likely that bird you have caught the virus and do not want to have the danger of reinfection. I think not. She is very clean. Well I have fished the bug from my cat or my dog. No, that is not possible, the virus that attacked you live only in birds. I did not want to part with it. It was the only thing that gave me joy in my disease. But the doctor was blunt: "No pets, Alberto."

asked my friends and acquaintances when I came to visit, who wanted to stay with her for a while. I was hoping to heal, could recover it. Nobody wanted to take care of even temporarily. The doctor, on his next visit, I recalled his ban and a night I had to let go. I watched confused, so much pain that overwhelmed me. I apologized and after stroking a long time, I opened the cage to see rise in the dark. Now I really felt alone. In the days after the treatment began to show results. My wounds began to close slowly, my hands returned to their normal form and the bump on his forehead began to smooth out until only two slight scars and I still have itchy when I exercise. At four months, the doctor released me.

celebrate with a gathering of friends. Lorraine, a friend who is a researcher in pre-Hispanic mythology, approached me and gave me a yellow envelope. Read it when you have time. Do not mock me. When everybody left, I opened the envelope and found a photocopy of an ancient codex with an illustration of a bird much like my lost pet, who was the following:

"Huitzipin ayoztli. netzal mythology Ave. According to legend, was born of forbidden love between the chameleon and the dove. The netzales believed it represented the punishment of obsession and stubbornness, for violating the natural order by mixing two different species. The mythology says that the bird fed on the solitude of heart and souls naive. It could take many forms, deceiving prey. Upon finding the victim, was able to make it the animal would be left with just adore. The victim died at the brain secársele ayoztli huitzipin and then devoured. Only then could survive. "I laughed and kept the paper. Now, years later, I do not know what to think of that copy. But I shudder to recall those days when I was about to become an ox.

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"Madrid-Mexico for beginners" Chronicle of Raul Antonio Reding. April 1996. Ten

MADRID-MEXICO FOR BEGINNERS

phone rings. The hissing voice tells me: "It's 6 o'clock, sir, have good day "Thank you. I wake up after a night of light sleep, nervous. It took about seconds to find me. I get out of bed, I open the curtains. It's a cold morning sun. It's my last day in the Excelsior Hotel in Madrid. Today I finish a pleasure trip and I must hasten to take the flight to Mexico City, departing at 11 am.

I bathe, get dressed. A little hair fixative to hold 11 hours of flight. Accommodate some magazines on the dresser that I left lying on the ground the night before, when I read an article about the European Community, the take in the briefcase, to read during the flight path. Seeking card which opens the room. Not find it. I remove blankets, sheets and clothing. Nothing. It's 6:45. I can not find out if the card first. I open drawers, closets. Not find it. Lifted a tray with the remains of my dinner last night (the Andalusian gazpacho, club sandwich and pale ale), and there it is. The volume, slamming the door shut. The elevator is on my floor. I hit the button, watch the indicator light stops on the floor above. I watch the red carpet at the hotel, Impressionist reproductions trying to brighten the dark corridors and perceive that smell so characteristic of Madrid, which I dislike. The lift now goes down, but not me. Under the stairs. "Good morning, sir. Do you take you coffee? .- Please. The service in Europe is slow, so that makes me long for a VIP or a Denny's in Guadalajara. "Captain, sorry, I have a bit of a hurry, my flight leaves in a little while and do not bring me my breakfast. The man, fat, gray and red, is annoying and nagging me to wait. In Spain nagging you at the slightest provocation. Anyway, my breakfast arrives. Tasteless cereal, orange juice and coffee synthetic watery. Chewing a piece of bread which has no equivalent in Mexico, for its strength and flavor to carbonate. Through the windows of the hotel observed the avenue of trees and buildings brown and mustard, there are very few people walking. I get the account on there never ordered an omelet. I must convince the waiter that I did not order nor received the English tortilla. The waiter asked me to wait, will talk to the captain. The captain and the waiter very mobile arms, angry gesture. The waiter goes to the box, review papers, back to my table asking for an apology. He signed the note, left the room. Are 7:40. The idea of \u200b\u200breturning to my country makes me happy and nerves at once. I take the elevator, go straight to the stairs. I start running up. I have my plans delayed 40 minutes. I get to the room and introduce the card. Struggle. The door resists. Pinches cards, how not to get normal keys. After a few seconds of fighting, half of the card was quedado en la chapa y yo, aterrado e incrédulo, sostengo la otra mitad. Bajo a la administración, le explico al encargado lo que me ocurrió. El tipo me escucha con atención y con absoluta cara de desprecio me informa que la reposición de la tarjeta me costará 1,500 pesetas, pero que debo esperar, porque el encargado de mantenimiento llega en media hora. -¿Nadie más puede abrir mi puerta?-, -Lo siento, señor, él es el único autorizado para cambiar el cerrojo-. Me siento en el lobby y espero a que llegue el Amo de las Tarjetas. Jugueteo con mi reloj. Lo abrocho-desabrocho en un intento por tranquilizarme, por convencerme de que tengo muy buen tiempo y no hay nada de qué preocuparse. Mi respiración es ahora faster. I still remember packing toiletries along with some gifts that I did not want to put in my large suitcase. Cross leg, cross the other. I light a cigarette. Together with my luggage and tourists spend no compassion or hear about my little drama. At 8:15 I go to the counter and the manager tells me to climb to fourth, that the maintenance worker will be with me in minutes. I climb the stairs two at a time.

When I get to the room, is already a fifty to the blue and gray uniform of the hotel, disarming veneer. The bolt, as they say here. "Okay, who has been lucky, Huh? touch me now come early ... do not worry, man, that one little minutes is the fourth open .. Come on, there is .- I offer a tip that he rejects. "No man, please, it is my duty. Then entered the room and took the pile of magazines, thankfully, is the gift-To keep a souvenir of Mexico, "I say. Thanks me and wishes me bon voyage. I go to the bathroom, I put what remained packed in a canvas bag. By taking a bottle of perfume I slip and break. Click bottle, my 300 francs to the trash. I rush shit. Everything smells like Jazz by Yves Saint Laurent. Pick up the glasses, with courage to throw trash. I check under the bed, I open all the drawers, I must not forget anything. Bag tickets my jacket pocket to make sure that I carry. My passport, where I left off? I reach into the shirt pocket, there it is, I feel the warm plastic. Pick up some coins, banknotes seeking pesos in my wallet, yes there are. Everything in order. He checked his watch: 8:27. Well, that'll take it. I look in the mirror and discover a stain on my shirt. The closer inspection, I discover it's blood. I unbuttoned, and in doing so I realize that I have a tiny cut on the index finger. Must have been with the glass. I lick my wound while I travel in my medicine cabinet a Band-Aid. A priest who does not exist, because then I remember I used the last four days before when I heel blister from walking in Barcelona. With your finger in the mouth, which gives me a look of foolish child, call reception and ask a bellhop. At 8:40 you see a young man of Arab appearance gives me good morning and my luggage fits in your cart. We went down the elevator. 9,8,7 floor. Stops. A pair of American oldies, with a lot of kids, a bellboy and a luggage cart, try to join the decline. Enter, exit, fit, discuss among themselves. Do not know whether to wait for the next trip or embark some now and others later. I cry my watch 8:53. The old men decide to wait. Leave the elevator. I hate them. We reached the ground floor. I approach the counter, I ask myself. The cashier is a young white skin, black hair and blue eyes watching me attentively while I asked my full name. I give, I say that I have quickly that my plane leaves in two hours, I add that I have to spend an hour earlier at the airport. She smiles, says that in a moment everything is ready. Type in your computer, check a card, write something in them. Hear but not see a printer. "Your total score is 12.345 pesetas. I say that is good and I give my credit card. The carefully reviewed, then inserted into the machine that gives authorization. The screen shows a few letters. The cashier turns to me: "You'll have to wait a few minutes, sir, have no line, but I do not delay. Take a seat, "I sit favor., what I have. Another cigarette. The hotel is full of Japanese tourists in shorts and flowered shirts with Americans who come to pay their dollars in this Spain devalued the peseta, the slow service. He approached me a guerita with red and white business suit, who offered me a trip to the Valley of the Fallen and Toledo. Thank you, I explain that I am about to leave, and I hope the authorization of my credit card. "By God, if sometimes it takes a horror, especially when the card is from Latin ...- To hear feel bubbles in my stomach and say that I do not take salt .- The salt? So what is meant by that? - "The bad luck - he explained," so we say in Mexico. Goodbye, wish me a good trip and leaves a group of Brazilian tourists. I'm going to the cashier asked for my card. "Do not worry you, there are already online in a jiffy is your authorization. Take your seat. What I want is to take my plane. I hope to stand up to the cashier beckoned me and asks me to sign the Vaucher. I get the card folded back, I wish you a happy journey and come back soon (All I want good trip, but do not let me go fast.) "Thank you," replied stammering. I ask the concierge for a taxi. Taxis in Europe imported from Lilliput, the driver will battle hard to accommodate my bags. -Have you been charged yet, eh? You do know Mexicans gastar. "I inform you that this is only my clothes and books, I have a great hurry, I should be at the airport at 10 and they are 9:30. The driver reassures me. He says that in 15 minutes we are in Barajas. We started. As in Mexico, English taxi drivers are playful, talkative and nosy. I notice that for every kilo of overweight are paid $ 100. Pale. I have no idea what the weight limit, but I think it would be better to ship the books by mail. The traffic is slow, stops upon reaching the Plaza del Sol "That caught us a jam," says the cabbie. - A what? - A traffic jam, traffic man - Ah, a traffic jam. The taxi driver laughs at the little word, informs me that no problem, yes we arrived on time. A turn of the wheel left the center of Madrid to make a broad avenue that leads to the airport. I tell the taxi driver which line will travel, and after cursing him and fight with other drivers, leaving me in front of the room indicated. I pay. Has no change. All are equal, are a breed apart. No way, stay with the change. Under my suitcases, and look over a very long line, the counter that says Mexico City, Flight 945. Nothing. I despair, I run from here to there, like cockroach persecuted, wonder no one is safe. And I thought that only happened in my country. At last I find the counter and discover that there are other 40 passengers queuing up to register. It's 10 o'clock, and the pound. The line moves quickly. I get to the counter, handed my ticket. I want to stop please. I have only in smoking section. All right. Your passport please. I reach into my shirt and what I get is my passport. It is a mica with advertising of the hotel where I pointed out some directions. What a fool, of course I checked it. The airline's employee looks at me impatiently as I rummage the pockets of the jacket, my briefcase, my pants. I feel the eyes of those waiting behind me. I explain almost shouting to Miss I can not find the passport. He tells me to book my seat, but can not give me the boarding pass without a passport. I get to the side of the line, frantically try to remember where I left off. I was sure I had put on the shirt pocket. Yesterday I saw him, when I used it as a separator of the magazines I was reading ... of course. What a fool you, for sure you left it in magazines. I'm flying to find a phone. Panting, spoke to the hotel, I'll explain. Do not understand my story, repeated two times to different people. I respond that the person who opened my door to my room, left the hotel, back in half an hour, you will be asked to locate my passport between the magazines, which I call again later. My worst nightmare is now reality. A reality of $ 200 more if I fail my flight and took the next. I have dry mouth, sweat profusely and hair fixative is no longer anywhere. I pulled their hair, literally, I am to wait half an hour. The speaker is heard in a while the announcement of my flight. These are 10:35. I go to the bathroom, wet my face, I try my hair, jaw trembles. I can not find a passport I am in great problem. Go to the embassy, \u200b\u200bget a copy, wait a day or two, find accommodation, spend a whole lot. I leave the bathroom. I have heat. I take off my jacket and I am again. Something bothered me in the chest. I I check the shirt pocket: there it is. My passport completely sweaty, made chilaquiles. It out, I check it, I kiss, yes, this is, always was with me, but I take my fucking rush mica instead of passport. I get up, run with luggage, sweat and passport to the counter. The clerk immediately recognized me, I give my passport. Register my luggage, I say nothing of being overweight. Bendigo to the English, God and all my guardian angels for saving me so much trouble. The clerk hands me my boarding pass which took the force. I keep it carefully in my jacket. I row to board. Are 10:50 am. The plane rises at 11:10 while I recline in my seat, relieved sigh. At 12:00 am on flight 945 flying over the Atlantic, while I find hysterical checking all my pockets and my passport rests, damp and folded on the counter number 25, Iberia Airlines, in Madrid. Pinches hurry.

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unforgivable mistakes of modern label are

Hello everyone. On this occasion I wish to speak some basic mistakes of etiquette, I've found is frequently committed in our days.

Como ustedes saben, el nombre de etiqueta proviene de los letreros que se ponían en los jardines de Versalles, en los tiempos de los Luises, para indicar lo que estaba prohibido por orden del Rey. Me parece que la etiqueta siempre ha tenido su origen en algún aspecto útil o de sentido común. Ejemplo: La costumbre de saludar con la mano derecha, se remonta a la Edad Media, en la que los hombres cargaban arma blanca bajo el manto. Al saludar al otro, le estamos demostrando que no llevamos espada o puñal (Salud, JC) para hacerle daño y de esa forma mostramos nuestra buena voluntad y honestas intenciones.

Hay distintos tipos de etiqueta: for work, letter writing, for official receptions for sex, to use an online chat. On this occasion I would like to talk a bit about the label everyday, that we use in our daily lives and that has nothing to do with a dinner at the French embassy or tea with the British consul.

Ten common mistakes we make in everyday label. Van:

1) Shaking hands with the people sitting at the table .

Me seems unforgivable, when I'm eating, sitting at the table in my house, in a restaurant or anywhere else (eating, not drinking or chat) get one and I shook hands. The reason is eminently practical: I have my hands lavaditas, and the person who comes to greet me, come with their own dirty, leaving its colony of bacteria in mine, so I have just two options: stand it and still eat with dirty hands or going to the bathroom to lavármelas again, while another comes gushing to my table. What to do in these cases? When I meet someone I know, I can go to the table to greet him and his companions briefly, a nod and a firm voice greeting and warm, will suffice. If there is a lot of confidence with the guests, I can give you a pat on the back or shoulder, to greet them, but more importantly, I should be as short as possible so as not to intrude. None of hugs and pats of applause thunderous seals that make the whole place turn to us. Discretion and prudence, is the guideline that does not fail.

2) The woman does not rise when he was introduced to another woman or an elderly man . There

belief, unfortunately widespread, that a woman should NEVER stand when you have someone. When should stand the lady? When the woman who is older presented to it, a social level significantly higher than it, as a celebrity, when the woman presented to be pregnant, or when the woman presented to be married and one single. The same approach applies when you have an older man to a woman, this should also stand as a sign of respect. It's a matter of hierarchy, because as my friend Rocio Maisterra, "Always, there have been levels." If you do not want to fail, women, get up whenever they submit to another woman and you will see the image of a simple natural and warm.

3) When entering a restaurant or public place, the man enters behind the woman.

Here is an exception to the rule of "ladies first". When a man becomes a woman at a restaurant or public place must go a step or two ahead of her, to find place to advertise with the captain or just make sure it is safe for your partner. Once you have table, will walk in front of women, ensuring that it follows closely (if couples can hold hands), once they reach at the table, the chair had been placed to the female, this work should not be delegated to the waiters, who do may pull up the chair from him, who will be the last to sit down.

4) The man with a woman, walking up or down stairs behind her.

Another exception to the rule of "ladies first". It is he who should go first steps to avoid giving the impression of seeing him go back legs and his companion. When down stairs, he will first offer his hand to his partner if a slip or in the worst case, to prevent her body continue to run until the next floor in the event of a fall.

5) Letting the sunglasses, indoors or when we have someone .

If you are not Aristotle Onassis, or Claudio Rigo Tovar Yarto Caló group, when we enter a confined space is necessary that we take off our sunglasses. If we are going to present to someone, it is also absolutely essential that we remove them but we are under a sun Guadalajara in mid-May in the street at 12 pm (after we presented and salute it, we can relocate). The same advice goes when we get to a guard booth will see the difference in treatment when allowed to be seen by the other. Cardinal sin: let the sun glasses in a taco and even worse to port as we refine each crop and pastor, will be the spitting image of a bodyguard Toluca or a union leader of the SNTE. The dark glasses at wakes, they have no reason to exist unless the deceased family member and your eyes are in disastrous conditions. Even then, you should not wear glasses so dark, but translucent, that in such cases are more elegant and sober.

6) Putting ourselves the title of Mr., Mrs., Miss or any college degree .

This really is horribly cheesy. Presented as: "I am Doctor Ivanovsky", advertised as: "On behalf of Mrs. Ramirez" or sign a letter as "Graduate Trophy Zarate is extremely parochial and denotes an inferiority complex. Remember that the titles of Mr., Mrs., Miss, Mr. and Mrs., are signs of respect that we give them other people, not us. Using degrees as equivalent to titles of nobility in Latin America is extremely common villager. Have you noticed the business cards of Americans? They rarely mention his profession, only include names and surnames. Point. Hereinafter: " Zoila Vaca Del Corral, mucho gusto."

7) incorrectly dressed to attend a funeral. Speaking

funeral clothes, women tend to commit two errors extremes: tight clothing, short or too sexy, or fox, for the funeral, just to be all black with black stockings think they already did it. The other end, especially in women fifty years later, is going super façade, knitwear, jackets and shoes nursing nun. A suit of good quality, with a clear blouse (no need to wear black from head to toe), skirt that covers the knee or longer, according to fashion, and very discreet jewelry (pearls or diamonds simple, avoid all costs, gold jewelry, the large and ornate colors), medium-heeled shoes and makeup line pretty unobtrusive (no need to go wash face), will make them look elegant and appropriate. A bag simple, sober, and matte coat and gloves in the wintertime, to complement your outfit. Remember

that in our Western culture, not just black is the color of mourning, so is the target (which is extremely elegant and gives a touch of light and hope at the time), gray, brown, blue Marine and purple for the Catholics. Avoid at all costs the blues, reds, greens, oranges and any bright color.

Men will always appropriate pants and dress shoes, long sleeved shirt in neutral colors and dark coat or jacket. Of course, if no budget, the suit dark or neutral color is ideal, which can be worn with or without a tie, which should always be dark. Avoid tennis, jeans and casual pants.

Children under twelve, for any reason dressed in black, instead use neutral colors, preferably white.

Recall that the dismissal is that we give to our loved one, arreglémenos appropriately for the event.

8) The man gave him the inside of the sidewalk to the woman.

In the Middle Ages had not piped drainage, so the waste (of all kinds, and when I say of all kinds, I mean ALL) were thrown into the street, so passersby were exposed to splashes and puddles of questionable origin. At the time of my grandparents said that the man walking with a woman, leaving her on the outside of the sidewalk, was "selling." Nowadays, if we go with a woman, she walks around the inside of the sidewalk and the outer man, and protect it from possible spanking lewd motorists. Of course, as are the times, motorists may want to spank the man, but, for that is one, haha. To yield the sidewalk to a lady, the gentleman will walk up behind her and placed on the outside. The knights, or aspiring to, should give the inside of the sidewalk to women, children, grown men walking towards them in the opposite direction.

9) Do not turn off the cell phone in public events or ceremonies.

I do not think I have to dwell much on the subject. In the film, theater, religious or civil ceremonies, it is essential or minimum quench put the phone on vibrate. Nothing is more Monaco than a ringing phone in the middle of a concert, shows a total lack of consideration and respect for others and also interferes with the concentration of the actors or performers.

10) Treat contemptuously service personnel.

not know if that label error or lack of humanity, but I consider it essential to include this item. I think the nobility and quality of a person, are clearly seen in the way they treat the staff who served: waiters, captains, domestic servitude, maids, valet parking, etc. mistreat these people, just because you have a position of power over them is a coward and talk about someone very, very ashamed. It is essential to be polite, courteous, warm with those who serve us. Treat them badly just throws mud on us themselves. Respect the work and humanity of those we serve and treat everyone equally, without discrimination. I said.

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The Bugambilias sun. Story of Raul Antonio Diaz Reding. May 1996.

Hi all, I return to this blog with the publication of one of my texts. As some of you know, many years I write. Then I give one of my last stories I did is one of my favorites. I welcome your comments, alert to the names of the characters:

SON DE SOL bugambilias

;

When Ishmael was born, Sara was already at the end of his twenty-Nicolas half of their thirties. Sara and Nicholas had been married two years ago after living together five others. She taught ballet classes. Their delicate movements, elegant and always pushed back his shoulders, spoke of grace and discipline a child. It seemed cut from a picture of Van Gogh. Nicholas was silent, melancholy, evaporated from a painting by El Greco, with wrinkled hands and a tough beard.

Ismael was a robust and restless baby, who three days old rejected the breast, preferring to swallow cans and cans of powdered milk. After eight months and said "Water" and "Dad." At ten, walked sharp finger gripping Nicholas watching him grow and incomplete soft smile attached to it. Sara spent her mornings in seeing the baby, caressing her soft arms, play with it. Ismael grew very fast. At four years old, she walked around the house, closed and opened doors, disarm and examined what he had in the house.

- Sara, I'm bored.

- Why do not you go to the garden to play with your ball?

- I have not got to play with.

- Right now the end of cooking, I go with you.

- Sara ...

- What step?

- Why were you crying last night? - Sara went pale and cutting potatoes.

- It was a bit unwell.

- It scared me a lot with their screams. It makes it ugly.

- Why do not you get to light the story that your dad bought you as I finish?

- I'm afraid. Why are you here?

-...

- I want to leave. I do not like.

- Ishmael, I explained many times.

- I'm afraid when you feed and will do so.

- How?

- So ... do you see? It seems to Choper.

- Ismael Shut up.

- Why do not I have brothers and Huicho? He plays good father to Alex and Diego.

- If you behave, maybe you bought one.

- Where you going?

- I'll feed Luciano.

- you said we were going to play. What do you feed? Or grow.

- ... Right now return. Go to the garden.

- should throw it away. When the master of the junk I'll say take it back.

- You did your dad do not talk like your brother.

- That's not my brother. I'm afraid.

Sara wiped a tear with his hand and closed her eyes being careful to not see Ismael. He took the tray, left the kitchen. Ishmael out into the garden and lingered for a while, trying to cope a mealybug with an ant, without success. Then he went to sit under the bougainvillea that both Sara pampered with vitamins and fertilizers. Sara had been moved in the plant because the gardener said that the shadow was going to dry, the sun needed bougainvillea. Ismael remained a few minutes pulling flowers and leaves of the plant, making them throwing the grass rolls. Then he rose to go quietly into the room where Sara was, feeding Luciano. "A case in ten million", "A real mystery of genetics," "A miracle is still alive," said the doctors had cared for since birth Luciano. Sara and Nicholas had prayed after delivery, "That was done the will of God." Luciano had just turned eight years old. Ismael peered through the open door. From there you could see the railings and straps bed where he slept Luciano, Sara fed him in the mouth. Ismael was very still, watching the box. His eyes and mouth opened, his brow furrowed ever watching this scene. From the door and saw tiny black eyes Luciano, who reminded him chasing lizards in the farm of his grandfather. Sara always felt the eyes of Ishmael behind:

- Ismael! What are you doing here? Van hundred times I say you can not enter this room. Go to the garden .- Ismael said nothing and as always, ran scared. Luciano roaring, excited by the shouts of his mother. The scene was repeated infrequently, but when it was happening, caused a seizure in the family: Sara cried the rest of the day, Nicholas was comforting when Ismael came home from work and went to his room. Whenever he saw his brother had nightmares at night and wake up screaming: "I comeeee! I will eat, Mamiiii," then Sara and Nicholas came to the rescue. The next morning the three breakfast in silence, like someone had a bad dream I can not remember clearly, but that is steeped in thought for several hours.

***********

Dr. Balbuena was the physician of the family. Each month Luciano went to examine, revise it, he asked questions to Sara and then ordered changes in medications or feeding Luciano.

- How do you see today doctor?

- Better than last month, Sarita, but has continued to lose weight.

- Yes, it has been too restless and hardly eats. There is something that Nicholas and I want to ask.

- What happens?

- How long will you live?

- Pardon?

- Luciano. How much longer do you think you live?

- Look, we already have discussed. In cases like this ... it is impossible to calculate. We can only speculate. You know I've searched all the information related to this case, but it is so extraordinary that there is no precedent for something similar. It is similar in some other symptoms genetic disorders, certain chromosomal aberrations, but in reality does not fit and no pattern. Luciano could die tomorrow or maybe in ten years. We do not know.

Nicholas looked down with folded hands while listening to the words of Dr. Balbuena. Sara sighed and stroked his neck. Her moist eyes jumped from the face of the Doctor that of Luciano and then escaped into the garden with bougainvillea.

- What happens is that we are having many problems with Ismael. As much as we explain and try to reassure him, no, we can not. We are terrified to Luciano. "He added Nicholas while he stood beside the bed rail.

- is natural. But are stages of adjustment. Gradually the child will grow accustomed to his brother, believe me. But the process is not instantaneous. Must be patient and do everything I say the psychologist.

- We considered the possibility of placing Luciano. In a specialized niche. If only we were Sara and me ... but do not want ... Ismael ... you know doctor, traumas and all. Ismael had many nightmares.

- Well, actually that is something you must decide, perhaps the psychologist could target more than me. But if I can be realistic in the state that is Luciano, it does not matter if you're here with you or in an institution. Anyway I guess I would see often.

- Sara intervened course flatly .- Luciano is my son. And what I want. God knows how.

- I know Sarita. Could recommend two or three hospitals where the care is first, several colleagues work there. When you have a decision, call me.

- Thank you, doctor.

Luciano followed with his two black spots the figure of Sara. Watched the three present, but always attentive to every movement of his mother, to each of his words. His breathing was heavy breathing when he was alone in his room.

**********

The night the boy died two days after his last medical checkup, Sara had been trying to locate Dr. Balbuena but found none. The fever had reached 40 º C and no medicine seemed to serve. The boy stirred uneasily in his bed, babbling and screaming. Sara cried, again and again marking the Doctor's phone. When Nicholas arrived, and then hugged the child Sara. Was calmer, but the fever did not abate. Wrapped in a blanket and carried him to Nicholas Car. Sara leaned over the bed and her other son, and after verifying that he slept deeply, took her purse and ran to meet with the patient and her husband. Pulled in a hurry. At 11:43 am the doctors warned Nicholas Sara and the child was dead. The autopsy revealed no big deal. "Maybe an immune system disorder, an overreaction to an infection, an allergy that had gone unnoticed in children, had caused high fever, "doctors said. Ismael had died four years three months. Nicholas and Sara cried embraced. They stood in the hallway for several minutes. Then they got up. He had to take care of the paperwork.

**********

- Why, Why Nicholas?

- Sara Do not ask me why, you know why. We are paying a high price. That's all.

- You know, I think that Ishmael is like my bougainvillea. I needed sun. Here there is only darkness.

- Yes, I think it was better that way.

Sara and Nicholas were silent as they watched the bougainvillea in the garden, sitting on the terrace. Luciano stared at the floor and smiled for the first time in his life. Luciano was the firstborn. The son of Sarah and Nicholas. Alone.

MAY 1996.