Finland, childhood and music.
Music and childhood remember December, the blue cold, the blue gaze remember us a filigree in the white face of our friend invite us to think about the children holiday longing. And the music that went along us when we were children floating in this atmosphere. Do you remember?
Not in vane in December we talk about the "musical pedagogy in Finland". A land that remember the reindeer... there is reindeers in Finland? And the winter cold of Christmas. It is our first bilingual work: Spanish-Finnish. Answering too to our vocation of giving relevance every language which we have occasion of working with around the world, avoiding those horrible and heartless mechanical translations, but with the sensivity of who make the magic of translate from one language to another, sometimes with the big-hearted help of a partner.
I don't know why it comes to my mind those exclusive-bilingual obsession Spanish-English, in such bilingual schools in where nobody learns proper English, nor Spanish, not even the subject, which, I don't know why, we insist teaching it in English, even if it has nothing to do with English.
But for sure, many parents look proud when talking about their children and their "bilingual schools", the biggest proposal of the actual educational system, where the heartless cuts terribly mauls every realistic chance of the education and the spread of languages, culture, science, technology and knowledge.
And sometimes, the less important thing in education, until this moment, is the soul and the greatness of the language which permeate the literature. Maybe the reason is that literature foster the thought and imagination of new realities, and for the social elites would be better that "the people talk about simple things, to reach simple goals, in an economic environment in which is possible to reach their simple goals, for a simple salary" A duty in which, some of them, put all their desperate hopes.
That doesn't mean that we won't koktow the "old but gold Walt Whitman"´s, or "the boy of the XIV district of New York Henry Miller"´s language. English is also a brave and beautiful literary language, just as the rest, but the rest, as the Finnish, exists too.
Snow drops slow or heavy over Finland, God Eolo will blow upon his great magical hand in order to bring some of these snowflakes to us, the great south people, and as always this strange illusion decorated with homesickness and sadness. The time goes on, unable to take mementos along with tears away. The same time that maybe will bring the comfort, perhaps just an illusion, of future joy and victory.