When you experience something that strongly impresses you, being it in a positive or in a negative way, you must thank the chance of having had this experience for what it gives you once you are back home. It’s there, in the silence of your room, in the quietness of yourself, that you realize what you have been through and what it has given you.
I’ve just got back from an International Conference on Latin American Cybercultural studies which took place in Liverpool, UK. As many people know – as I’ve been torturing them with my anxiety and nervousness – it was my first conference. Delivering a paper in front of an audience, getting feedback on the spot, answer their question and question yourself again about your own work. Being there was not just about me (or anybody else sitting at a desk) though. It was about exchanging information, getting to know each other, interact with people, learning from their successes and their mistakes, sharing your knowledge and, if that being the case, changing your mind completely and switching to a new perspective on things.
What I have found in Liverpool was a group of people devoted to their researches and projects, people who pursue their passions and interests. Meeting those people, spending time with them, sharing thoughts and laughter has showed me how beautiful it is to work on what you really like, even though your idea could seem awkward and makes a few eyebrows raise (and makes some people literally laugh at you, as it happened to me when I was trying to explain to some people of the local gentry what “cyberculture” means. Ask Marcos Wasem, Diego Bonilla and Sean Hovendick how it ended up with).
Much more than this though what is really amazing is what you get once you’re home: in the silence of your room, in the quietness of yourself you realize how richer you are than when you have left. You start re-thinking about what you have seen, and as you unpack and put your clothes back in closet, find receipts in each and every pocket and cards from the restaurants you’ve been to, you are “unpacking” your suitcase full of experiences. You tidy them up and give them a meaning. You realize that your way of looking at those same things you were used to is changed, and the more you think, the strongest this feeling becomes. Your mind becomes a pepper grinder that keeps turning, so that the pepper gets thinner and thinner and spreads uniformly on your dishes. If the grains are too big, you don’t perceive anything or, which is worse, you happen to bite one and your sense of taste gets numb, preventing you from enjoying the rest of your meal.
When you make a powder out of them though, it pampers and embraces every papilla on your tongue, so that the pleasure of eating is enhanced and flavors mix perfectly.
This is what I must thank everyone for: giving me the most precious pepper for my young and not so experienced grinder, and enriching the flavor of my thoughts.
