During my pilgrimage by bus towards concrete/asphalted Parque Donha Ines, I decided to take some photos in Capetillo, where I got off, walking the rest of the way.
One never get to see the crude reality in printed media or television, impressions that never get equal time anywhere. Not in the University of Puerto Rico, in the opposite side of this barrio, or among air heads in environmental blindfolded utopias, Sierra Club comes to mind.
How can this Cueva de Ladrones claim to be such a paradise with fecal waters in poor wretched vicinities for the last seventy years of 'progress and development', moving like fresh water, ending their voyage in Laguna San Jose?
Not all is lost. There is a community
edible garden in Capetillo. I thought of doing volunteer work, but as usual it is not possible. I always encounter square/one track minds down my path, screw them, my war call. Here is a picture. You be the judge.
EL ENCANTO DE LAS ESCALERAS
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
CERVECERIA CORONA EPILOGUE
T he story in the evening post does not end there. But it was getting too long and I decided to end it here. I should not have easy access to the camera and downloading since there is so much to chronicle that it could be really overwhelming.
At any rate, many of the photos taken are of buildings abandoned or not, highways and such. Some houses are really valuable, attractive or not to you, since in other cultures, architecture, all kinds of it tell the story of the people.
Down here, that patrimony is torn down, abandoned, or becoming a parking lot.
Here are some that I like or not, but worthy of merit.
MOST of the pictures are in the vicinity,
Parada 22, axed in two by the highway. It was the beginning of the end, when the concrete asphalt epidemic began, during the sixties.
A boom lasting over four decades in a futile attempt to keep up with the disturbing, shocking amount of private vehicles asphyxiating the former isle of enchantment, now of concrete/asphalt.
Now to put the pathetic reality in words. The problem is of such magnitude, that any attempt to develop, to create, propose any solution will hit a wall. How can you develop an economy of any kind if the only way to transport the goods is permanently stalled?
Or in the best of situations...once you arrive, after driving in roads, highways, streets with moon like craters paved over, there is no room to park.....
MO
At any rate, many of the photos taken are of buildings abandoned or not, highways and such. Some houses are really valuable, attractive or not to you, since in other cultures, architecture, all kinds of it tell the story of the people.
Down here, that patrimony is torn down, abandoned, or becoming a parking lot.
Here are some that I like or not, but worthy of merit.
MOST of the pictures are in the vicinity,
Parada 22, axed in two by the highway. It was the beginning of the end, when the concrete asphalt epidemic began, during the sixties.
A boom lasting over four decades in a futile attempt to keep up with the disturbing, shocking amount of private vehicles asphyxiating the former isle of enchantment, now of concrete/asphalt.
Now to put the pathetic reality in words. The problem is of such magnitude, that any attempt to develop, to create, propose any solution will hit a wall. How can you develop an economy of any kind if the only way to transport the goods is permanently stalled?
Or in the best of situations...once you arrive, after driving in roads, highways, streets with moon like craters paved over, there is no room to park.....
That is that....
MO
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
SAGRADO CORAZON UNIVERSITY INSTITUTIONAL HARRASMENT WITH IMPUNITY
I have denounced the abuses from the ADMINISTRATION of UNIVERSIDAD SAGRADO CORAZON, since we moved to our residence, 36 months ago, next door to the illegal cafeteria on the premises to Mr. Ricci, dean, and Mariano Rivera, the jester in charge of Buildings and Grounds.
My sources, a nice looking guachimana*, informs me that 1,200 vehicles are parked daily on this overcrowded, academically overrated, ridiculously expensive, polluting air, soil, ground, with noise and visually university, neighbor from hell..
This is part ll of the SAGA. You could find the first part searching under Universidad Sagrado Corazon, in one of my blogs. TO BE CONTINUED.
1,200
My sources, a nice looking guachimana*, informs me that 1,200 vehicles are parked daily on this overcrowded, academically overrated, ridiculously expensive, polluting air, soil, ground, with noise and visually university, neighbor from hell..
This is part ll of the SAGA. You could find the first part searching under Universidad Sagrado Corazon, in one of my blogs. TO BE CONTINUED.
1,200
THE ONLY URBAN GARDEN WORTHY ITS GRAIN OF SALT
SOME individuals and institutions thought that I self promoted excessively, without merits.
I tell the scumbags I did not. This collection is above anything I have seen in Puerto Rico, the Caribbean and beyond for one simple reason.
Most gardens are installed in open spaces, plenty of ground, not trapped in concrete. Micro climates, temperature, salt breezes, heat and drought determines the success or failure of the whole or its parts...
I achieved what I had in mind...But is not over. Any garden worthy of merit, is always a work in progress...Just like nature....
The blogs? Just one more way for this extremely humble chronicler to state his piece.
I tell the scumbags I did not. This collection is above anything I have seen in Puerto Rico, the Caribbean and beyond for one simple reason.
Most gardens are installed in open spaces, plenty of ground, not trapped in concrete. Micro climates, temperature, salt breezes, heat and drought determines the success or failure of the whole or its parts...
I achieved what I had in mind...But is not over. Any garden worthy of merit, is always a work in progress...Just like nature....
The blogs? Just one more way for this extremely humble chronicler to state his piece.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
A NIGHT OUT: THE LAST/FIRST INTERVIEW
THE NEW AND OLD
INTERCONNECTING
To
A todo arquitecto de maquetas
DANIEL VELEZ CLIMENTI
spoke person:
GABRIEL BERRIZ
LANDSCAPE ARCHITECT
GUEST STAR
gbcj: I may have been an exotic, without invitation migrant, but what about that mussel on steroids in your footer picture?
ACajan: Your lame career, polluting the isle with lame installations with too many palm trees, lawns and hedges does not give you permission to describe mistakenly anything on this landmark blog. You got that clear, yellow belly scumbag?
gb: Sure. Knowing your fair treatment of those like moi and the oposition, making a buck for a 'better future' and my family, it is not surprising..
ACajan: Screw your better future, every one else and architects/landscaping mentally retarded ones, lacking the understanding of birth control. You have never published anything, not even a calendar, I have.
On the other hand, this being my blog is natural to demonstrate my potential to become an illustrated dictator with a few limitations.
gb: Whatever...
ACajan: That is the way I like it. Landscape architects and the others STINK. Accomplices in the destruction of the puercorican scenery, lacking not only in depth notions of the vegetation installed, but of SCALE and PROPORTION in their designs, buildings. Mothersuckers, designing concrete moles blocking the view of the ocean for every juan. Those living in hot water leaking concrete vertical match boxes and pedestrians alike. All of you suck.
gb:
Great. Is this your revenge for keeping you waiting for an interview 8 years ago, when you had some enthusiasm and hope in Puercorican people and exotics alike?
ACAJAN:
Ah, foreign maggot do you remember?
No, it is not revenge. I do. It is poetic justice? BUahaha. Juat the suck is poetic justice ani jau?When you saw my resume and asked about my NY Botanical Garden credentials...following the interrogation about my wife and her IRS job, your face changed colors, as in money laundering, tax evasion...Apparently a mode among some/most people in landscaping enterprises....
The clam like structure is one of the best icons in the history of Puerto Rico, USA. As cool, in my opinion, to those sails of Le Corbusier down under. It is really a giant one result of those early experiments with radioactivity. The Manhattan Project, for example...That is how that icon of the prostitution/gambling industry that tourism really is, became to be known in 1958, when the hotel was inaugurated.
Now if you forgive me I am exhausted, but I will promise to finish in the future. Could you publish something, for free in the web?
gb: Whatever...
ACajan: That is the way I like it. Landscape architects and the others STINK. Accomplices in the destruction of the puercorican scenery, lacking not only in depth notions of the vegetation installed, but of SCALE and PROPORTION in their designs, buildings. Mothersuckers, designing concrete moles blocking the view of the ocean for every juan. Those living in hot water leaking concrete vertical match boxes and pedestrians alike. All of you suck.
gb:
Great. Is this your revenge for keeping you waiting for an interview 8 years ago, when you had some enthusiasm and hope in Puercorican people and exotics alike?
ACAJAN:
Ah, foreign maggot do you remember?
No, it is not revenge. I do. It is poetic justice? BUahaha. Juat the suck is poetic justice ani jau?When you saw my resume and asked about my NY Botanical Garden credentials...following the interrogation about my wife and her IRS job, your face changed colors, as in money laundering, tax evasion...Apparently a mode among some/most people in landscaping enterprises....
The clam like structure is one of the best icons in the history of Puerto Rico, USA. As cool, in my opinion, to those sails of Le Corbusier down under. It is really a giant one result of those early experiments with radioactivity. The Manhattan Project, for example...That is how that icon of the prostitution/gambling industry that tourism really is, became to be known in 1958, when the hotel was inaugurated.
Now if you forgive me I am exhausted, but I will promise to finish in the future. Could you publish something, for free in the web?
From here to eternity.
Remember that only you can prevent forest fires or " To die blogging is to live forever"
Kofla Olivieri
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
NOTES ABOUT SAD PEOPLE DYING OF NOTHING
THE other day it hit me. While traveling in Highway #1, from Caguas to RIO or vice versa. Concrete craters, sinking plates, plastered with asphalt.
What made the epiphany shocking is the familiarity of the whole moonscape in highways, roads, side walks down here.
This familiarity is consequence of watching these permanent holes, craters in the same areas only getting worse, part of the hardscape, for 45 years they have never been repaired, or recognized, acknowledged. I will be 60 in 2011.
Imagine traveling in this uneven surface, in vans typical of India or Africa, no refrigerated air, a radio blasting, 16/18 passengers in a vehicle for 12, the collective, stupid monologues of these sad people, the smell of Varon Dandy, English Leather or plain sweat in the old heat.
That is the way people used to travel, before every joe six pack or pancho karaekeso was able to buy a car. That is how this window glass of democracy became one of those places on earth with one car for every two people in our geographic 100 long X35 wide dirty and noisy concrete hell.
The old heat? Forty five years ago, Puerto Rico was mostly vegetation, now it is about one third of pure concrete/asphalt, single mothers in housing projects or with Section VIII.
The heat is permanent day and night, even in our winter, thanks to concrete heat absorption/refraction.
Driving, that feeling of freedom, of being able to go anywhere, as in those advertisements from the auto industry from USA, when it was powerful, or now Japan, Korea or Germany, a bitter joke a la George Carlin.
A nice, shiny car, with sport wheels, air,
500 watt stereo, from 0 to 60 in 10 or 4, what difference with the shitty roads down here? Only the retarded, abundant in all economic segments buys BM, Mercedes, Audis or worse a Lotus, for what? To feel the bumbs, navigating yatch like, the flooded streets, highways and roads at every little rain here?
What made the epiphany shocking is the familiarity of the whole moonscape in highways, roads, side walks down here.
This familiarity is consequence of watching these permanent holes, craters in the same areas only getting worse, part of the hardscape, for 45 years they have never been repaired, or recognized, acknowledged. I will be 60 in 2011.
Imagine traveling in this uneven surface, in vans typical of India or Africa, no refrigerated air, a radio blasting, 16/18 passengers in a vehicle for 12, the collective, stupid monologues of these sad people, the smell of Varon Dandy, English Leather or plain sweat in the old heat.
That is the way people used to travel, before every joe six pack or pancho karaekeso was able to buy a car. That is how this window glass of democracy became one of those places on earth with one car for every two people in our geographic 100 long X35 wide dirty and noisy concrete hell.
The old heat? Forty five years ago, Puerto Rico was mostly vegetation, now it is about one third of pure concrete/asphalt, single mothers in housing projects or with Section VIII.
The heat is permanent day and night, even in our winter, thanks to concrete heat absorption/refraction.
Driving, that feeling of freedom, of being able to go anywhere, as in those advertisements from the auto industry from USA, when it was powerful, or now Japan, Korea or Germany, a bitter joke a la George Carlin.
A nice, shiny car, with sport wheels, air,
500 watt stereo, from 0 to 60 in 10 or 4, what difference with the shitty roads down here? Only the retarded, abundant in all economic segments buys BM, Mercedes, Audis or worse a Lotus, for what? To feel the bumbs, navigating yatch like, the flooded streets, highways and roads at every little rain here?
Thursday, October 7, 2010
NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS ADVENTURES
THEY belong to that segment defined, described as trailer trash, but missing the trailer. Both are pasty pale, rarely go outside or feel the sun, pretty much like vampires.
Dirt poor, both of minimun wage income, had previously a yellowish cat with a collar too tight, already in the streets. They loved him for about forty five days, while he slept indoors. Now the poor feline hangs out with the not neutered Farrukito's the pimp looking fellow stray clan.
Squeaky and Pillsbury dough boy, now got a dog, not a pet, mind you. An animal that hangs out in the outside ALL day and night, except when it rains.
The terrible thing is that the piss smell now is right on our driveway or the north garden. Why would this scum of the earth, with the habit of speaking pidgin English occassionally after snorting or whatever they used to get stone, get a dog?
That by the way is barking, not used to be indoors in the porch, since it is raining? A couple of nights ago, he barked for hours..
Squeaky has a turtle figure, with the manatee breasts by the collar bone. She laughs like that African pack carnivore of the rotten meat. When she speaks it is like a drill on me ears..
The Pillsbury fellow is not too bad, but as a drummer stinks worse that Ringo in the beginning. Enjoys pork shops in rancid lard cooked by his charming Squeaky. It stinks me tv/computer room after dark every other day.
It is only 8AM, I imagine the barking will be on for hours. Squeaky and Pillsbury, riff raff, a true token of the population down here. Where concrete, asphalt, weeds, noise, washing money and tax evasion rule.
Chito the dog is still barking, I give him some affection when we meet. It is so cruel to have animals that require some affection as if they were a pet rock which do not.
Apaga i vamonoh.
Dirt poor, both of minimun wage income, had previously a yellowish cat with a collar too tight, already in the streets. They loved him for about forty five days, while he slept indoors. Now the poor feline hangs out with the not neutered Farrukito's the pimp looking fellow stray clan.
Squeaky and Pillsbury dough boy, now got a dog, not a pet, mind you. An animal that hangs out in the outside ALL day and night, except when it rains.
The terrible thing is that the piss smell now is right on our driveway or the north garden. Why would this scum of the earth, with the habit of speaking pidgin English occassionally after snorting or whatever they used to get stone, get a dog?
That by the way is barking, not used to be indoors in the porch, since it is raining? A couple of nights ago, he barked for hours..
Squeaky has a turtle figure, with the manatee breasts by the collar bone. She laughs like that African pack carnivore of the rotten meat. When she speaks it is like a drill on me ears..
The Pillsbury fellow is not too bad, but as a drummer stinks worse that Ringo in the beginning. Enjoys pork shops in rancid lard cooked by his charming Squeaky. It stinks me tv/computer room after dark every other day.
It is only 8AM, I imagine the barking will be on for hours. Squeaky and Pillsbury, riff raff, a true token of the population down here. Where concrete, asphalt, weeds, noise, washing money and tax evasion rule.
Chito the dog is still barking, I give him some affection when we meet. It is so cruel to have animals that require some affection as if they were a pet rock which do not.
Apaga i vamonoh.
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