9 posts tagged "borges"

Memories of 1978, Paranoia and Pain

I am old enough to have memories of 1978, a time that happened 47 years ago; not figments, but scattered fragments, like the pieces of a shattered mirror, and here they are.

Ancestors from Geneva and Beyond

I’ve already written about my grandmother Herta, about one of my Polish ancestors in the 16th century, and about how my four grandparents arrived to Buenos Aires at various points of the early 20th century. Now it’s time to learn about some great-great-grandparents from the side of my maternal grandfather.

Borges

I didn’t grow up in a family where literature played any significant role, other than entertainment, that is. My mother enjoyed reading novels by Jacqueline Susann and Harold Robbins. My mathematician grandmother read French paperbacks from the collection “J’ai Lu” by authors ranging from Agatha Christie to Guy des Cars.

Best Books of 2014 to 2019

In 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and 2013 I published lists of books I enjoyed every year. Starting in 2014 I stopped publishing them every year, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t keep track of the books I read.

The Argentine Brain Drain

Argentina is currently experiencing a brain drain so strong that it made the headlines on Swiss television. 200 Argies, many with higher education degrees or quite a bit of professional experience, are leaving the country… every day. To put that in context, that’s around 6'000 per month, or 70'000 per year.

Languages

I have the immense chance and privilege of being fluent in three beautiful languages such as Spanish, French, and English. I have studied and worked with all three, and through them I have come to discover incredible cultures and fantastic works of art.

How to Desperately Suck at Cliches

I was born in Argentina. This fact, all by itself, provides a rather unlimited amount of smiles in every person I meet.

Being A Developer After 40

This is the talk I gave at App Builders Switzerland on April 25th, 2016.

Volver

– A Jorge le hubiese gustado escuchar su historia –, me dijo mirando su taza de café vacía.