Arts and Letters Santiago de Chile
Sunday May 8, 2011 online edition
Mercury Emol
MEMORY Bullets postwar Europe:
The chronic youth Ernesto Barreda
The painter and architect recalls on these lines returning to Paris in 1946 as a young architecture student. Barreda runs a London ravaged and then reunited with his hometown, where even the U.S. forces were present. Ernesto Barreda
Sunday May 8, 2011 online edition
Mercury Emol
MEMORY Bullets postwar Europe:
The chronic youth Ernesto Barreda
The painter and architect recalls on these lines returning to Paris in 1946 as a young architecture student. Barreda runs a London ravaged and then reunited with his hometown, where even the U.S. forces were present. Ernesto Barreda
remember my parents recall with painful nostalgia, trying to hide, to Paris where they met, married and lived for years in full "crazy years", the lyrics are Josephine Baker, Maurice Chevalier and charleston and tango dancing European-which I learned years later that my father was an accomplished dancer.
I was born in that city in 1927. It kept a vivid memory, I should say a subconscious impression, given my age in those years, because when the West had to pay the bill for the fun of the twenties, my parents are over the party. Had to return to "L'Amérique du Sud" and landed at Valparaiso from the MV "Queen of the Pacific in December 1932. I then concluded my fifth year of life.
For all these childhood experiences, early in 1946 when he returned home one day from the Catholic University of Chile, where she was 2 nd year of architecture, I was not surprised that my father said: "We will return to Paris on a pair of months. "The apparent motive was to try to recover an apartment he owned in that city, although with time it occurred to me that what I really wanted was to see the possibility of returning to live there.
Crazy Years in DNA
my father's personality flourished in Paris, and only there. He was a perfect "gentleman of fine appearance." Architect graduated from the University of San Marcos Lima, connoisseur of art, architecture "style" , furniture, classical music buff, charming and shy, as are truly lovely people, "was one that I dare not" merit ", say one condition: almost not worked a day to anyone.
Your apartment in Paris was wonderful and I have no doubt that he was flattered by his father, my grandfather, traditional family in Lima. When finished the last chords of the "crazy years", although I was a kid, but children also pick up "more than once asked him why we had to leave Paris. He explained with an example: "I had many shares of American Railroads Baltimore-Ohio, United States at that time was moving train, road and cars were emerging civil aviation passengers, almost nonexistent," and continued "On Thursday 29 October 1929 the American stock market collapsed and the actions of the Baltimore-Ohio, worth $ 123, lost a lot in a few days. "" How? "I asked." They went down to $ 3, "but with finesse added immediately:" but picked up again. "How much?" I asked, because, although child, I caught that phrase was of consequence to our future. "A $ 5. Forever, "he said with a naturalness that surely hid dark clouds on the horizon.
then continued the calm tone of one who relates a field trip:" Nearly all our friends the same thing happened. We were in groups at the bar of the Hotel Ritz in the Place Vendôme to take the last drinks, waiting for the close of trading in New York and Paris when it was midnight, then crossed to the office of the International Marketplace, which was in front, waiting for the last ticker. When they arrived, they all raised their arms and said almost the same: "It's over, I was left with nothing" and went stumbling-consequence of the past by the bar besides the shock -. I do not know if my father raised his arms, his fine perhaps prevented it, but I remember after that day at home began to pour domestic whiskey bottles imported whiskey.
illustrates the climate experienced by the world is small known story of a lady of Argentina, Chile married to that prior to Thursday, 29 parties and dinners given continuously for the large group of South Americans in Paris. When this happened, gathered his friends and gave a dinner last to say: "We were on the street" and then pawned all her jewelry for a living. His friends made a great collection to raise money and rescue her jewels. Achieving this is the returned amid exclamations of joy. Well, a few days again gave a great dinner, better than all, he had bent all his goods again and then returned to Buenos Aires.
London tailors and ruins
In May 1946 we began the long journey to reach the dream of Paris. Panagra airline ordered to pick up their passengers to their home in a limousine like 4 in the morning. At that time I said goodbye to two or three friends and started the trip with my parents in dual-engine propeller.
After a couple of days in a New York surprising, we set sail to Europe in the famous ocean liner "Queen Mary", a symbol of British imperial power before the Second World War. In that boat started my experiences and unexpected surprises that world only saw the news of war, so different from mine, my parent's house in the quiet and shady avenue of Santiago Pedro de Valdivia.
The "Queen Mary" began to carry passengers to Europe again, and bring back thousands of troops back to the United States, as I observed each night watching the eight empty metal bunk in my cabin. Passing the Statue of Liberty, and the sound of the siren, all passengers on deck, we met to hear speakers disturbing explanations for the captain, who gave us instructions that we would always "on hand" as lifejackets that the sea was "full of mines."
After four days of smooth sailing, we arrived at the port of Southampton and thence to London, where we stayed a few days. My father in his youth of the "Roaring Twenties" was sent to do your laundry to London, so I quickly took an English tailoring to surely dress up again as it did 20 years before the bar of Charleston. But, surprise, his tailoring, as an island, was the only building standing amid a wasteland of ruined walls with empty windows through which they saw the sky, wood, stone and brick, all calcined after German bombing of the "City."
The tailor and his assistant were waiting for us and, as if nothing happened, we took action and asked by the angle of the tab, then choose fabrics and buttons while on the windows only see the horizon and the devastation and ruins but intact dark silhouette of the cathedral of San Pablo.
Paris after
nightmare trip to Paris went on and crossed the English Channel on a ferry that was the daily crossing to Calais. At this port, strong and unforgettable impressions: the ferry, sailing slowly from sunken ships, masts and chimneys and just out of the water, we deposited the remains of a pier.
Everything was destroyed. On one side of the quay waiting for a train carrying passengers to Paris. Their cars were in good condition, but the tour was amazing. Moving very Slowly, as the railroad was in very poor condition and the rails were messy piles of twisted iron bars, the intermediate stations, ruined and burned, in the fields we crossed were chariots and charred tanks. The "douce France" welcomed us with face distorted by a nightmare he had lived.
The train finally arrived at the Gare du Nord, after crossing the suburbs of Paris. The great city showed no physical damage and the reason for this so special was published years later in a book called "Paris Burning?": The German general in charge of the garrison of Paris, with his troops and all the paraphernalia of war, simply disobeyed orders to blow up the town when approaching Allied armies. Disobeying an order was practically suicide in those turbulent years. "Health, Herr Kommandant !"...
Upon leaving the premises of the station began to be noticed something strange: apart from a few taxis, the city was virtually deserted, an occasional car, all of at least seven years ago, traffic was run by American military police, installed in the middle of the streets in their uniforms and white helmets with the letters MP (Military Police) and military vehicles, jeeps and others on the sidewalks, parks and gardens of Paris, the French police could be seen discreetly stationed in places.
Across the city to go to the hotel "Lancaster", a step away from the Champs Elysées, where we were a couple of months, then moved to another hotel near the Madeleine, felt strong emotions and complex, dominated by a sense that this giant world and now dark, and half-deserted streets led foreign troops, I was familiar.
From the world of my childhood did not remember details, and had lived there only until age five, and at that age the memories are a mixture of dream and reality, but remember its smells, its noises, more precisely its murmur giant, its thousands of cars, masks, black fenders, the incessant sound of their horns, police whistles, its beggars, almost always dressed in black ... I had been there long ago, but memories of my childhood came back to be present in force, and its paving stones with designs curved, with large bright nails to indicate the passage of pedestrians, the passages clout-spiked steps - on which my father never stopped talking, lamenting that in our America each one crossed the street where it seemed better.
In 1946 I never felt a stranger in Paris. Was to return to the house where he born.
I was born in that city in 1927. It kept a vivid memory, I should say a subconscious impression, given my age in those years, because when the West had to pay the bill for the fun of the twenties, my parents are over the party. Had to return to "L'Amérique du Sud" and landed at Valparaiso from the MV "Queen of the Pacific in December 1932. I then concluded my fifth year of life.
For all these childhood experiences, early in 1946 when he returned home one day from the Catholic University of Chile, where she was 2 nd year of architecture, I was not surprised that my father said: "We will return to Paris on a pair of months. "The apparent motive was to try to recover an apartment he owned in that city, although with time it occurred to me that what I really wanted was to see the possibility of returning to live there.
Crazy Years in DNA
my father's personality flourished in Paris, and only there. He was a perfect "gentleman of fine appearance." Architect graduated from the University of San Marcos Lima, connoisseur of art, architecture "style" , furniture, classical music buff, charming and shy, as are truly lovely people, "was one that I dare not" merit ", say one condition: almost not worked a day to anyone.
Your apartment in Paris was wonderful and I have no doubt that he was flattered by his father, my grandfather, traditional family in Lima. When finished the last chords of the "crazy years", although I was a kid, but children also pick up "more than once asked him why we had to leave Paris. He explained with an example: "I had many shares of American Railroads Baltimore-Ohio, United States at that time was moving train, road and cars were emerging civil aviation passengers, almost nonexistent," and continued "On Thursday 29 October 1929 the American stock market collapsed and the actions of the Baltimore-Ohio, worth $ 123, lost a lot in a few days. "" How? "I asked." They went down to $ 3, "but with finesse added immediately:" but picked up again. "How much?" I asked, because, although child, I caught that phrase was of consequence to our future. "A $ 5. Forever, "he said with a naturalness that surely hid dark clouds on the horizon.
then continued the calm tone of one who relates a field trip:" Nearly all our friends the same thing happened. We were in groups at the bar of the Hotel Ritz in the Place Vendôme to take the last drinks, waiting for the close of trading in New York and Paris when it was midnight, then crossed to the office of the International Marketplace, which was in front, waiting for the last ticker. When they arrived, they all raised their arms and said almost the same: "It's over, I was left with nothing" and went stumbling-consequence of the past by the bar besides the shock -. I do not know if my father raised his arms, his fine perhaps prevented it, but I remember after that day at home began to pour domestic whiskey bottles imported whiskey.
illustrates the climate experienced by the world is small known story of a lady of Argentina, Chile married to that prior to Thursday, 29 parties and dinners given continuously for the large group of South Americans in Paris. When this happened, gathered his friends and gave a dinner last to say: "We were on the street" and then pawned all her jewelry for a living. His friends made a great collection to raise money and rescue her jewels. Achieving this is the returned amid exclamations of joy. Well, a few days again gave a great dinner, better than all, he had bent all his goods again and then returned to Buenos Aires.
London tailors and ruins
In May 1946 we began the long journey to reach the dream of Paris. Panagra airline ordered to pick up their passengers to their home in a limousine like 4 in the morning. At that time I said goodbye to two or three friends and started the trip with my parents in dual-engine propeller.
After a couple of days in a New York surprising, we set sail to Europe in the famous ocean liner "Queen Mary", a symbol of British imperial power before the Second World War. In that boat started my experiences and unexpected surprises that world only saw the news of war, so different from mine, my parent's house in the quiet and shady avenue of Santiago Pedro de Valdivia.
The "Queen Mary" began to carry passengers to Europe again, and bring back thousands of troops back to the United States, as I observed each night watching the eight empty metal bunk in my cabin. Passing the Statue of Liberty, and the sound of the siren, all passengers on deck, we met to hear speakers disturbing explanations for the captain, who gave us instructions that we would always "on hand" as lifejackets that the sea was "full of mines."
After four days of smooth sailing, we arrived at the port of Southampton and thence to London, where we stayed a few days. My father in his youth of the "Roaring Twenties" was sent to do your laundry to London, so I quickly took an English tailoring to surely dress up again as it did 20 years before the bar of Charleston. But, surprise, his tailoring, as an island, was the only building standing amid a wasteland of ruined walls with empty windows through which they saw the sky, wood, stone and brick, all calcined after German bombing of the "City."
The tailor and his assistant were waiting for us and, as if nothing happened, we took action and asked by the angle of the tab, then choose fabrics and buttons while on the windows only see the horizon and the devastation and ruins but intact dark silhouette of the cathedral of San Pablo.
Paris after
nightmare trip to Paris went on and crossed the English Channel on a ferry that was the daily crossing to Calais. At this port, strong and unforgettable impressions: the ferry, sailing slowly from sunken ships, masts and chimneys and just out of the water, we deposited the remains of a pier.
Everything was destroyed. On one side of the quay waiting for a train carrying passengers to Paris. Their cars were in good condition, but the tour was amazing. Moving very Slowly, as the railroad was in very poor condition and the rails were messy piles of twisted iron bars, the intermediate stations, ruined and burned, in the fields we crossed were chariots and charred tanks. The "douce France" welcomed us with face distorted by a nightmare he had lived.
The train finally arrived at the Gare du Nord, after crossing the suburbs of Paris. The great city showed no physical damage and the reason for this so special was published years later in a book called "Paris Burning?": The German general in charge of the garrison of Paris, with his troops and all the paraphernalia of war, simply disobeyed orders to blow up the town when approaching Allied armies. Disobeying an order was practically suicide in those turbulent years. "Health, Herr Kommandant !"...
Upon leaving the premises of the station began to be noticed something strange: apart from a few taxis, the city was virtually deserted, an occasional car, all of at least seven years ago, traffic was run by American military police, installed in the middle of the streets in their uniforms and white helmets with the letters MP (Military Police) and military vehicles, jeeps and others on the sidewalks, parks and gardens of Paris, the French police could be seen discreetly stationed in places.
Across the city to go to the hotel "Lancaster", a step away from the Champs Elysées, where we were a couple of months, then moved to another hotel near the Madeleine, felt strong emotions and complex, dominated by a sense that this giant world and now dark, and half-deserted streets led foreign troops, I was familiar.
From the world of my childhood did not remember details, and had lived there only until age five, and at that age the memories are a mixture of dream and reality, but remember its smells, its noises, more precisely its murmur giant, its thousands of cars, masks, black fenders, the incessant sound of their horns, police whistles, its beggars, almost always dressed in black ... I had been there long ago, but memories of my childhood came back to be present in force, and its paving stones with designs curved, with large bright nails to indicate the passage of pedestrians, the passages clout-spiked steps - on which my father never stopped talking, lamenting that in our America each one crossed the street where it seemed better.
In 1946 I never felt a stranger in Paris. Was to return to the house where he born.
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