The South Side

I mentioned the Pulitzer prize winning photos at the Newseum in one of my previous posts.

Here's one of my favourite photos from the collection. It was taken by photographer John White for a series on inner-city life in Chicago. It's a great picture that really captures the rhythm and life to have come out of some of the bleakest projects in America. This particular project is in Cabrini-Green on the south-side and was home to some of the most notorious gangs of the 1980s. The contrast created between the smiling kids and the bombed out building looming in the background changed people's perception of inner-city desolation when it was published in the Chicago Sun-Times in 1983. I love the energy of this shot and the angle is really effective - also the building in the background just seems to go on and on.

While we're on the subject of good photos, my sister has a pretty amazing collection. Check out her photo blog here.

London's last racer

This term we're working on features - our first assignment was a profile piece so I decided to interview a pigeon racer. Heres the article:

Albert Stratton has 80 pigeons, 56 medals, and two bird sheds. His garden isn’t much bigger than a bus shelter but over the years he’s bred more than 200 of London’s favourite pests.

He doesn’t just breed them. He races them. “Back in the day I was a force to be reckoned with!” he exclaims. “All them plaques up there - we boshed them! Cups and everything! We really gave them a run for their money.”

It’s true. The window sill is jammed with shiny dove effigies and bird busts. Instead of family photos there is a keepsake box with the homing pigeons’ ankle rings. When I ask about his children Albert pauses for a second: “Kids? Oh yeah. I’ve got one pest at university.” The humour passes him right by.

Pigeon racing is a dying sport and with it go Albert’s friends. “When I started in 1983, there were over 20 of us at the clubhouse. Now there are only three left.” He looks up at the heavy sky waiting for the answer to drop down and lighten his load. “It’s just Ixy, Smivvy and me… We’re old now, that’s the trouble.”

Two years ago Albert had a stroke; his left leg straggles behind the rest of his body and he uses a walking stick to get around. He leaves one at the bottom of the stairs and one outside the back door next to the lofts. Albert, 64, used to be a plumber but these days getting up and dressed is a morning’s work.

“I spend more time with the pigeons now.  It gives me something to do.” As he struggles to get off the loft step he lets out a frustrated sigh. It’s the first time I hear him complain and he masks his words in a whisper. “I tell you, what you don’t want is a stroke. It’s completely debilitating.”

Bienvenidos!

I suddenly got inspired by my talented blogging friend, Cara, to write another post. (to see her blog, click here)

Now I know this is coming out of left field after you've been mourning my absence for so long, but there is nothing so strong as procrastination.

And don't worry dear readers (again, my mum, maybe my flatmates this time) readjusting to regular blog posts will go smoothly - I'll ease you in - which may also mean it'll be another six months until I post again. But that sure is something to look forward to...

It's been a while so there really isn't time for an update.  Suffice to say I've traded the emerald green, bath-like, starfish filled waters of the Caribbean for London in the winter. Doesn't sound like a fair exchange? I thought you'd say that, but I'm actually very happy to be back in London.

I got back in September and when it's not raining at least, I remember what a great city it truly is. There's so much going on all the time - nowhere else compares in that way. That doesn't mean I won't be Mexico City bound in the future. But for now, I can say it's nice to be back.

I'm working on my trade - journalism - which is a bit of an oxymoron, and I hope to get a job when my course is over. But from what I hear, it's a bad time.

Anyway, welcome back one and all. Look out for future posts - I may put up some articles I've been working on recently. It's nice to see you again.

Hasta Luego!
- Gaucho Gil

On the Prowl

I'm not the first to moan about house hunting in London, and I certainly won't be the last I can tell you that. "Its only going to get worse" says the woman at Thompson Currie. "The students are flooding in..." says Mr. Foxtons, as he licks his chops and skims the list. The dooms day prophecy shakes the walls of the office, a few papers fall to the floor. I hope my house has more solid foundations. But that's unlikely on a student budget. And if it's not solid walls, its a 'bedroom-livingroom-kitchen conversion.' I never did like to take dinner in my room, but if its a top floor property at least there won't be rats.

I've scraped the streets of London for estate agents. I make 30 phone calls a day. And I'm lucky if I get one viewing. It's a full time job. No one can afford to buy right now so the entire city is tethered to their rentals.

Today I told my latest estate agent - and hence, newest best friend - that I was becoming so familiar with the business that I might take it up. At least then I could afford a house.

But really. Who am I to complain? We all face the ugly housing market at some point in our lives, and we're never told it's getting any better. So what's the trick? Are these 11th hour pronouncement a ruse or is the shortage, truly, going to leave me homeless tomorrow? Either way the agents have me wrapped around their little finger. I don't want to take the risk. Tomorrow I'm optioning a garage. All they need to do is add the word, 'conversion' and I'm there.

Going Viral

I'm tweet tweet tweet twittering now, because a little birdie told me to. I'm learning all sorts of things like the social capital of a #, and the broadcasting potential of an @. I also know that Katy Perry is "back in Canada and FULL of VITAMINS" and I'm happy to report that President Chavez is THIS excited about football: "Ayayayyyyyyyy Paraguay.... Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooolllllllllllllllllllll!! Viva Venezuela!!"

I've already been publically shamed by a fellow tweeter, so my whole twitter universe now knows to address me as "Weeny." Luckily, it only consists of five followers. Not all news travels fast on the blogosphere.

But you'll know when "Weeny" goes viral.

Life Sentence

James Varone at Gaston County Jail. Photo: Ben Goff/The Gaston Gazette

If this doesn't make the point for national health care in the United States, nothing ever will. James Varone, of North Carolina, held up a bank for $1. He is now in jail. But he finally got what he wanted: A meeting with a nurse and an appointment with a doctor.

As told by Ed Pilkington of The Guardian: US Man Stages $1 Bank Robbery to get State Health Care

Holy Moley

In keeping with this blogs theme, I thought it was only fair to find some friends for Gaucho Gil on my travels. A cowboy's gotsta work hard to keep a woman - hardly a surprise given that his saintly ladies really do hang out in the strangest of places...

Staying holy under the trees [small village, Amazon Rainforest, Brazil]

An airport shrine - for the fearless only [Leticia Airport, Colombia]

Keepin' night drivers safe since 1989 [roadside, Colombia]

These saints just gave up and took off all their clothes [Mompox, Colombia]