<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213</id><updated>2009-10-13T15:48:17.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yotro</title><subtitle type='html'>Para practicar castellano. Poco a poco. Desde Sydney, Australia</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>157</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-2172855760941162730</id><published>2009-06-26T06:39:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T06:40:38.109-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ir de compras</title><summary type='text'>Simplemente, por alegría.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/2172855760941162730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=2172855760941162730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2172855760941162730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2172855760941162730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/06/ir-de-compras.html' title='Ir de compras'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kUrCQcKUqRA/SkTPzR8hi7I/AAAAAAAAABs/n66170sdUlM/s72-c/rory.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-1611903750466364396</id><published>2009-06-25T21:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-25T22:35:55.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lo misterioso</title><summary type='text'>No sé por qué, pero me parecía que la reina me sonrió. Los reyes españoles fueron en Sydney para inaugurar el nuevo Instituto Cervantes. Al salir, Juan Carlos estaba charlando con unos españoles en la calle y de repente me sonrió Sofía. No creo que ya nos hayamos conocido. Quizás sea que me parezco un poquito al actor frances Daniel Auteuil (por lo menos, eso me dice algunas personas, después de </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/1611903750466364396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=1611903750466364396' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/1611903750466364396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/1611903750466364396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/06/misterioso.html' title='Lo misterioso'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kUrCQcKUqRA/SkRW-lgZSjI/AAAAAAAAABk/0wZQtNBdwZc/s72-c/lareina.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-1116526640990652085</id><published>2009-06-19T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T17:01:11.697-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasmas del pasado</title><summary type='text'>En todas partes de Argentina se nota los autobuses de Sarmiento y aquí en el delta cerca de Tigre, ví su casa, protegida por una caja de vidrio y acero. De Sarmiento, sabía poco, que fue un personaje muy importante en la historia de la nación, autor de Facundo, un líder del partido que luchó por una política liberal y centralista.Al volver a Tigre, le mencioné Sarmiento al dueño de nuestro </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/1116526640990652085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=1116526640990652085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/1116526640990652085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/1116526640990652085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/06/fantasmas-del-pasado.html' title='Fantasmas del pasado'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kUrCQcKUqRA/SjwdyP1XE7I/AAAAAAAAABc/0JHeWuVkfwE/s72-c/sarmiento.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5123830537484149761</id><published>2009-06-10T04:09:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T04:13:45.773-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La suerte</title><summary type='text'>El peine del vientoRory cumplió dos años de edad. Estábamos por la costa en Coogee, el pueblo de Sydney en que crecí. En marzo, estuvimos en Buenos Aires y celebramos el cuarto cumpleaños de Heidi.En menos de dos años tendré 50 años de edad. Me pregunto dónde estaremos entonces.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5123830537484149761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5123830537484149761' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5123830537484149761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5123830537484149761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/06/r0013076jpg.html' title='La suerte'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-8566155055660294762</id><published>2009-05-22T18:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T20:52:29.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Que trata de lo macanudo</title><summary type='text'>La sombra de historia, CórdobaMe hace pensar en mi viejo y en las palabras con sabor de Argentina. Me refiero a la película La Ventana, que trata de la muerte y la relación --- ¿qué ha sido desdicha? --- entre padre e hijo. Volviendo a la cama de su padre, que está agonizando, el hijo le llama simplemente viejo. En inglés, y a veces en España, la palabra puede tener un matiz irrespetuoso. En </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/8566155055660294762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=8566155055660294762' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8566155055660294762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8566155055660294762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/05/r0012328jpg.html' title='Que trata de lo macanudo'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-8412156072615155051</id><published>2009-05-12T23:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T00:52:24.000-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Las flores del imperialismo</title><summary type='text'>En Los Hornillos, TraslasierraTenía que comprar sandalías, porque hacía mucho calor hasta en marzo en Traslasierra. Me fuí a Mina Clavero y encontré una tienda pequeña que vendía zapatos. El dueño me mostró algo que se llama a thong en Australia. Bueno, en Argentina se llaman ojotas, siendo una palabra india, según dijo el dueño.Entonces me preguntó de dónde era yo.De Australia.¿Sería miembro del</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/8412156072615155051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=8412156072615155051' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8412156072615155051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8412156072615155051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/05/r0012286jpg.html' title='Las flores del imperialismo'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5520470717559574001</id><published>2009-05-10T05:34:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T05:51:22.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>¿Tengo monos en la cara?</title><summary type='text'>Rory en Palermo, BsAsEn la infancia yo ejercí con fervor la adoración del tigre, escribe Borges. Bueno, visitamos el mismo jardín zoológico y nos enamoramos de un mono virtual.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5520470717559574001/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5520470717559574001' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5520470717559574001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5520470717559574001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/05/r0012045jpg.html' title='¿Tengo monos en la cara?'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-3217285944883919256</id><published>2009-05-08T03:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-08T06:08:46.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Todo sobre tu padre</title><summary type='text'>Arte callejero de BsAsSe trata de lo primero que me llamó la atención en Buenos Aires. Estaba en el barrio de Belgrano. Un chico se paró en la esquina. Se montaba en bici. De golpe, esgrimió un puro bastante grande. Lo escendió. Él, la bici y el puro se marcharon.¿Qué significó lo que vi?A la vuelta de la esquina, estaba las oficinas de la Asociación Psicoanalítica de Buenos Aires. Este edificio </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/3217285944883919256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=3217285944883919256' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/3217285944883919256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/3217285944883919256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/05/hairjpg.html' title='Todo sobre tu padre'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-8029229675609652649</id><published>2009-05-05T06:13:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-05-05T06:16:14.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>En La Argentina</title><summary type='text'>Al llegar a BsAsMe mataste, La Argentina. ¿Cómo puedo contar la historia de nuestro viaje?  Bueno, llegamos al aeropuerto de Buenos AIres con el hijo en los pijamas.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/8029229675609652649/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=8029229675609652649' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8029229675609652649'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8029229675609652649'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/05/al-llegar-bsas.html' title='En La Argentina'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-6691071454179692382</id><published>2009-01-05T03:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-07T04:03:14.739-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Café de los maestros</title><summary type='text'>Menú del díaPor azar, encontré hace bastante tiempo un disco titulado Ronroco. No sabía nada sobre el músico Gustavo Santaolalla. La cubierta del CD mostraba una escena callejera de noche con faroles, que me atrajo por razones desconocidas. De golpe su disco se convirtió en favorito mío.Luego reconocería la música encantadora de Santaolalla en las películas --- por ejemplo, en Babel.Bueno, el mes</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/6691071454179692382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=6691071454179692382' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6691071454179692382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6691071454179692382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2009/01/caf-de-los-maestros.html' title='Café de los maestros'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-6512741220091971306</id><published>2008-12-06T19:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T02:43:30.198-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A propósito de Snr Macana</title><summary type='text'>¡Cuidado, hay libros!He estado un blogista desterrado. Es decir, no he estado aquí en el terreno web de Yotro sino en el otro mundo de la vida cotidiana.Bueno, estoy a punto de hacer otra mudanza.A fines del febrero llegamos a Buenos Aires --- yo (Yotro), la mujer (ella misma), la hija de hadas (pues, tiene tres años de edad), hasta el chico de 18 meses.¡Qué aventura! Tengo que preparme. Claro </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/6512741220091971306/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=6512741220091971306' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6512741220091971306'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6512741220091971306'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/12/librodemuertejpg.html' title='A propósito de Snr Macana'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-103421222701016458</id><published>2008-08-11T03:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T04:15:22.121-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La españolada</title><summary type='text'>Una imágen andaluza (en Extremadura)Me encanta la españolada. Mejor dicho, me intriga el concepto. Significa lo que exagera o falsea el carácter español, segun dice mi diccionario.Acabo de leer el famoso cuento de Borges, en que Pierre Menard es un escritor frances y a la vez el autor de Quijote:"... el fragmentario Quijote de Menard es más sutil que el de Cervantes. Éste, de un modo burdo, opone</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/103421222701016458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=103421222701016458' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/103421222701016458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/103421222701016458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/08/spain3-023.html' title='La españolada'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5395870673468656041</id><published>2008-07-03T07:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T16:27:43.073-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fantasmas</title><summary type='text'>El pacto del olvido. Las fachas, los casposos y los soplones. La desmemoria histórica. Los secretos a voces. Las dos Españas. El Cuñadísimo. La retranca. Bueno, he estado aumentando mi vocabulario, gracias al libro Ghosts of Spain por Giles Tremlett. Sí, está escrito en inglés aunque el texto se intercalan con unas palabras y frases españolas que también están traducidas al inglés.Lo que no está </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5395870673468656041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5395870673468656041' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5395870673468656041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5395870673468656041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/07/fantasmas.html' title='Fantasmas'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-8014405823642787529</id><published>2008-05-29T04:37:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T04:44:44.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>En bici</title><summary type='text'>En biciAntes de la tormenta. El océano Pácifico era tranquilo, pues, pacífico. Los hijos iban en su chiquita bicicleta en tándem por la playa de Coogee. En el horizonte eran todos los colores de ira y alegría. Antes de estallar la tormenta.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/8014405823642787529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=8014405823642787529' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8014405823642787529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8014405823642787529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/05/en-bici.html' title='En bici'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-7671405910478046174</id><published>2008-05-13T15:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T06:32:12.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rory</title><summary type='text'>RoryDicen que no exista existe la máquina del movimiento perpetual. Mentiran Mienten.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/7671405910478046174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=7671405910478046174' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/7671405910478046174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/7671405910478046174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/05/rory.html' title='Rory'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-6232758516152945000</id><published>2008-04-25T23:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T23:29:29.751-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Centro Sydney</title><summary type='text'>Que trata del primer Instituto Cervantes en Australia:FROM his Sydney headquarters Isidoro Castellanos, director of Australia's first Cervantes Institute, can see his past.Across the road is the University of Sydney, where Castellanos set off 20 years ago on a virtual tour of the bush with colonial poets such as Charles Harpur (1813-68).Back in Madrid a couple of years ago, Castellanos felt an </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/6232758516152945000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=6232758516152945000' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6232758516152945000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6232758516152945000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/04/que-trata-del-primer-instituto.html' title='Centro Sydney'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5359694700499722695</id><published>2008-02-26T04:29:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T04:33:12.113-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mataratas</title><summary type='text'>     Frodo y la rata       Hace un rato, llegó una rata. El viernes pasado apareció en la puerta nuestra vecina muy nerviosa. Estaba una rata en su cocina. Fui en búsqueda, armado con una escoba. No pude encontrar ni una huella.El domingo nos visitaron una familia muy amable, que cuenta con un perro, Frodo, de raza Jack Russell. Viven en una granja al oeste de la ciudad de Sydney.Frodo no hizo </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5359694700499722695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5359694700499722695' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5359694700499722695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5359694700499722695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/02/mataratas.html' title='Mataratas'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-2878292668481136692</id><published>2008-01-11T03:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T04:12:21.942-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gritando</title><summary type='text'>En ese momento no estaba pensando en él. Bueno, por lo menos, no creía que estuviera pensando en él. Entonces leí este poema de Machado:Anoche soñe que oíaa Dios, gritándome: ¡Alerta!Luego era Dios quien dormía,y yo gritaba: ¡Despierta!De repente, no pude creer que estaba muerto.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/2878292668481136692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=2878292668481136692' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2878292668481136692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2878292668481136692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/01/en-ese-momento-no-estaba-pensando-en-l.html' title='Gritando'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-24891694793252885</id><published>2008-01-10T19:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-10T19:54:49.049-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wikilengua</title><summary type='text'>Esto me ayudará mucho, sin ninguna duda.Más aquí.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/24891694793252885/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=24891694793252885' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/24891694793252885'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/24891694793252885'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2008/01/wikilengua.html' title='Wikilengua'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5858489822253717875</id><published>2007-12-31T02:21:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T02:58:05.161-08:00</updated><title type='text'>El sol</title><summary type='text'>     Se pone el sol    Ya era tarde. Había pasado la hora de acostarse para una niña como Heidi, que tiene dos años de edad. Estábamos andando hacia la casa cuando de repente me dijó algo.Heidi: ¡Cállate!, papi.Yotro: ¿Por qué?Heidi: Porque está durmiendo el sol.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5858489822253717875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5858489822253717875' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5858489822253717875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5858489822253717875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/12/elsol.html' title='El sol'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-6745341672691969143</id><published>2007-11-23T14:50:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T14:53:00.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>El baile</title><summary type='text'>         Entre la cuna y la fosa. El baile.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/6745341672691969143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=6745341672691969143' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6745341672691969143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/6745341672691969143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/11/el-baile.html' title='El baile'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-5294135343329796935</id><published>2007-11-04T03:42:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T03:45:43.397-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Paraiso</title><summary type='text'>     Jardinero    El paraíso es un jardín, según dicen. Bueno, no soy amante de la jardinería sino amante del concepto de convertirme en jardinero. Aquí acabo de dejar la azada para levantar los hijos. Me parece preciosa la luz de primavera que se mete en la cocina por la tarde.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/5294135343329796935/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=5294135343329796935' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5294135343329796935'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/5294135343329796935'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/11/jardinero.html' title='Paraiso'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-8475689056171098400</id><published>2007-10-31T05:01:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T05:23:16.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La sala de periódicos</title><summary type='text'>     La sala de periódicos    Había oído hablar del nuevo formato del diario El País. Por eso me fui a la biblioteca --- la que está ubicado en el antiguo Customs House de Sydney --- para echar un vistazo. Bueno, sólamente tenían el antiguo formato. No pasa nada, empecé a leer y después de un rato llegué a estas oraciones ---"Tengo un nieto", dice y levanta el dedo índice. "Un nieto y un hijo". </summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/8475689056171098400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=8475689056171098400' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8475689056171098400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/8475689056171098400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/10/la-sala-de-peridicos.html' title='La sala de periódicos'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-2484032004259146632</id><published>2007-10-28T04:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T04:54:00.991-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Amelie y Heidi</title><summary type='text'>     Amelie y Heidi    Son amigas muy íntimas. Pelean porque la abuela fuma. Se dan grandes abrazos y bofetadas. Se ríen a carcajadas. Se roban la comida. Mañana una se marcha y va a estar fuera del país por dos meses. Una eternidad. Menos mal que todavía no entienden bien la separación ni el paso del tiempo. Claro que están en pañales.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/2484032004259146632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=2484032004259146632' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2484032004259146632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/2484032004259146632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/10/amelie-y-heidi.html' title='Amelie y Heidi'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6265213.post-3660010658507169977</id><published>2007-10-28T04:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-28T04:35:40.788-07:00</updated><title type='text'>R.B. Kitaj</title><summary type='text'>     Marynka smoking   Ha muerto un hombre. Marinero que naufragó en siglo veinte. Me dicen que era pintor. Pues, sí. Era pintor de ideas, escritor de cuadros. Era historiador e hispanista. Gran judío y amante. Un carácter excéntrico, muy bien dibujado. Sobre todo, dibujó lo humano como un ángel.</summary><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/feeds/3660010658507169977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6265213&amp;postID=3660010658507169977' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/3660010658507169977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6265213/posts/default/3660010658507169977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://yotro.blogspot.com/2007/10/marynka-smoking.html' title='R.B. Kitaj'/><author><name>Yotro</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14351094419578241927</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='10048498290776529305'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>