{"id":1800,"date":"2023-10-30T23:37:36","date_gmt":"2023-10-30T22:37:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/?p=1800"},"modified":"2023-10-31T00:11:33","modified_gmt":"2023-10-30T23:11:33","slug":"la-chinita","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/la-chinita\/","title":{"rendered":"The photograph I never took"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Chatting with the Woman of the eternal smile on Paseo de Gracia in Barcelona<\/figcaption>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/figure>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t
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While enjoying a cold beer on a terrace along Barcelona's Paseo de Gracia, a woman of small stature, fragile, with little hair and Asian features approached kindly, holding a paper cup. Although I wasn't certain of her exact origin, I assumed she was of Chinese descent. From that moment on, I affectionately referred to her as \"the little Chinese lady,\" lacking a better description. I'm not very good at judging people's age, especially when it comes to someone of Asian origin.<\/p>

I typically tend to reject those who suddenly approach me, almost accosting me on the street to ask for money. It's my initial reaction. Especially when I'm sitting on a bench or at a terrace, quietly lost in the storms of my mind as I relax. I usually politely excuse myself with a \"no, I'm sorry\" and continue with my own things. However, this time, something about her intrigued me and made me follow her journey among the tables. Despite the fact that most people barely dropped a few meager coins into her paper cup, something about her presence continued to hold my attention.<\/p>

Her short stature, the improvised attire of rags sewn together, the crude crutch she used to support one of her legs and take unsteady steps, were visible at first glance. Her physical condition made her sway from side to side, which was truly touching. Seeing someone in such precarious conditions, asking for help with dignity, stirred something within me.<\/p>

But even with all of that, all those aspects were not what drew my attention to her to the point of watching her all the time as she went from table to table. What caught my attention was her smile. It was a genuine smile, devoid of pain and resentment. Her smile wasn't just etched on her lips, but, most importantly to me, in her eyes. She smiled with her eyes. I know those smiles. They are the ones that touch me the most.<\/p>

But this story doesn't really begin here. It starts the day before at the Barcelona train station. There, I found a 5 euro bill on the ground. How fortunate! I placed it in my pocket and would decide later how to use it. That same night, several thoughts crossed my mind about how to spend that money. One of them, which always lingers in my mind when I find money on the ground, is to give it to someone who truly needs it. Someone who is begging on the street. But I don't want it to be used to buy harmful or unproductive things, like alcohol. I decided to keep the bill in the pocket of my jeans in case I needed it. I was determined. I would find someone who would make good use of that bill, perhaps to buy food, for instance. It wasn't my money.<\/p>

So, as I continued to gaze at the little Chinese lady, her smile kept me hypnotized. She would approach people, holding her cup, smile, and even if they didn't give her money, she continued, smiling, as she moved on to the next table. That's when I reacted and decided to get up, reach into my pocket, unfold the bill, and approach her. At that moment, a man was dropping some coins into her cup, barely looking at her, continuing his conversation with the person next to him. She nodded in gratitude and didn't lose her smile. When she turned around, she found herself face to face with me. I handed her the bill in her hand and said, \"always keep that smile.\" She made a gesture as if not understanding. I thought she might not speak Spanish, so I said it in English, \"Keep always smiling.\" She made the same gesture of not comprehending. It was then that she pointed to her ear and gestured a no. She was deaf. I didn't give up. I used my fingers to draw a smile on my face and pointed it at her. She smiled widely, with her eyes and her lips. She had understood. Not only did she thank me with a nod, but she also blew me a kiss. It touched my soul.<\/p>

I returned to my chair and continued with my glass of beer. Not without keeping an eye on that smile that spread throughout Paseo de Gracia.<\/p>

It moved me like no one ever had. I know she would put that humble 5 euro bill to good use.<\/p>

At night, sitting on a bench on the same street, I saw her pass by again, hours later. She approached once more to ask for money, but she didn't recognize me. I drew a smile on my face, and she laughed and blew me another kiss. Then she came closer. She showed me a wound on her hand and explained with some difficulty that someone had thrown hot water on her, causing her harm. By her expression, I understood it wasn't an accident but something deliberate. It pained me deeply. She blew me another kiss and walked away, wobbling on her makeshift crutch. Her shoes were sandals covered with wide packing tape.<\/p>

My companion and partner, Carlos Conde, was able to take a photograph of her while she was telling me about her hand.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t

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The next day, at sunset, I found her sitting on the sidewalk near Plaza Catalu\u00f1a, leaning on her crutch. She had gloves on her hands. She didn't see me; she was taking a break. I took a photo of her. In my role as a photographer, I hadn't considered taking a photo of her the day before. I could have asked for permission, and I'm sure she would have granted it for a portrait. But I didn't think of it at that moment. Her physical condition and her smile made me briefly forget that I was a photographer, always carrying a camera, capturing both the beautiful and the less beautiful, the pain and the joy. But I forgot all that. For me, her perpetual smile was the most important thing.<\/p>

If someday you pass by Paseo de Gracia and you see a small Chinese lady smiling... give her some coins and draw a smile on your lips. She will understand.<\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Conversando con la mujer de la sonrisa eterna en El Paseo de Gracia en Barcelona Mientras disfrutaba de una cerveza fr\u00eda en una terraza del…<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1803,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advgb_blocks_editor_width":"","advgb_blocks_columns_visual_guide":"","page_builder":"","_customify_content_layout":"","_customify_sidebar":"","_customify_page_header_display":"default","_customify_disable_header":"","_customify_disable_header_top":"","_customify_disable_header_main":"","_customify_disable_header_bottom":"","_customify_disable_page_title":"","_customify_disable_content_vertical_padding":"","_customify_disable_footer_top":"","_customify_disable_footer_main":"","_customify_disable_footer_bottom":"","_customify_breadcrumb_display":"","_customify_header_transparent_display":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[138],"tags":[137],"class_list":["post-1800","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-experiencias","tag-experiencias"],"yoast_head":"\nLa fotograf\u00eda que nunca llegu\u00e9 a hacer - 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O quiz\u00e1s no. \u00bfQui\u00e9n lo puede saber? Por aquella \u00e9poca cursaba estudios de bachillerato y la decisi\u00f3n entre ciencias o letras ya estaba hecha y era efectiva. Ciencias. Detestaba asignaturas de letras. Con el tiempo tambi\u00e9n acab\u00e9 detestando las de ciencias. Afortunadamente, o quiz\u00e1s no, la fotograf\u00eda se cruz\u00f3 en mi camino en un momento crucial aunque vulnerable. Aquel curso de iniciaci\u00f3n al revelado de fotograf\u00eda en blanco y negro en el instituto al que una amiga me pidi\u00f3 que me apuntara con ella fue el punto de inflexi\u00f3n en mi vida. Suena solemne aunque a estas alturas de la vida a\u00fan no s\u00e9 si fue catastr\u00f3fico y una bendici\u00f3n. \u00bfQu\u00e9 hubiese pasado si en vez de decantarme por la fotograf\u00eda lo hubiera hecho por la f\u00edsica? Quiero pensar que en otra vida me volver\u00e9 a decantar por la fotograf\u00eda, para bien o para mal. Por supuesto, por aquel entonces, la fotograf\u00eda era lo que se llama ahora anal\u00f3gica, con carretes, reveladores, ba\u00f1os de paro, rom\u00e1nticas luces rojas y olores a todo tipo de qu\u00edmicos menos rom\u00e1nticos. Jam\u00e1s en la vida se me dio bien el dibujo. As\u00ed que decid\u00ed probar suerte a ingresar en La Escuela de Arte de Oviedo y estudiar fotograf\u00eda. Las pruebas de ingreso requer\u00edan pasar unos ex\u00e1menes de historia del arte. Pero tambi\u00e9n pasar una prueba de dibujo. Era la primera vez en mi vida que ten\u00eda una caballete de pintura delante de mis narices. A pocos metros la examinadora dispuso un bodeg\u00f3n de frutas a su antojo. -Ten\u00e9is que reinterpretar este bodeg\u00f3n,- espet\u00f3. Yo no sab\u00eda si dejar el lienzo en blanco y largarme o probar suerte a ver si sonaba la flauta. Opt\u00e9 por esta \u00faltima consideraci\u00f3n. Eleg\u00ed la t\u00e9cnica abstracta. La flauta no debi\u00f3 de sonar. Mi reinterpretaci\u00f3n del bodeg\u00f3n con esta t\u00e9cnica no debi\u00f3 de calar muy hondo ni emocionar. Dar\u00eda lo que fuera por recuperar aquella obra de arte. Mi primera obra abstracta pintada. M\u00e1s que nada para echarme unas risas porque aquello tuvo que impresionar. Quiz\u00e1s me equivoqu\u00e9 de t\u00e9cnica. La impresionista hubiese sido una mejor elecci\u00f3n. O no. \u00bfQui\u00e9n lo puede saber? Tampoco supe cu\u00e1ntos, de los ex\u00e1menes que hice, aprob\u00e9. NO APTO. Puerta cerrada. Yo segu\u00eda haciendo fotograf\u00edas y revelando en mi casa en una especie de laboratorio que mont\u00e9 en uno de los ba\u00f1os. Varios d\u00edas a la semana y durante 24 horas aquel ba\u00f1o estaba inoperativo en la casa. Inoperativo para su uso tradicional, quiero decir. Tambi\u00e9n por casualidad, o quiz\u00e1s no, conoc\u00ed por aquel entonces a quien ser\u00eda mi maestro por muchos a\u00f1os (y lo sigue siendo). De su mano asist\u00ed a cursos de fotograf\u00eda en una academia privada. No fueron pocos (revelado, positivado, composici\u00f3n, retrato, sistema de zonas\u2026). A\u00f1os despu\u00e9s vendr\u00eda el contacto con la fotograf\u00eda profesional, code\u00e1ndome con fotograf\u00eda de prensa, deportiva, corporativa, de producto. Pero principalmente fueron unos cuantos a\u00f1os de fotograf\u00eda de estudio, bodas y comuniones en la provincia de Segovia. Y, por supuesto, llegar\u00eda la fotograf\u00eda digital a revolucionarlo todo. El hecho de dedicarme profesionalmente a la fotograf\u00eda hizo que descuidara mi fotograf\u00eda personal. Aunque no faltaron las salidas fotogr\u00e1ficas por las Sierras de Gredos y Guadarrama para hacer fotograf\u00eda de paisaje y macro, entre otras cosas. Y despu\u00e9s de tantos a\u00f1os me apetec\u00eda m\u00e1s expresarme y abrirme en canal para sacar lo consciente y lo inconsciente. Redescubrirme. Buscarme y encontrarme. De momento ah\u00ed estoy. En la b\u00fasqueda. \u00bfQui\u00e9n soy? \u00bfQui\u00e9n no soy? \u00bfDe d\u00f3nde vengo y a d\u00f3nde voy? T\u00edpicas preguntas existenciales de alguien que est\u00e1 en la edad de los 50. Ah\u00ed estoy. 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O quiz\u00e1s no. \u00bfQui\u00e9n lo puede saber? Por aquella \u00e9poca cursaba estudios de bachillerato y la decisi\u00f3n entre ciencias o letras ya estaba hecha y era efectiva. Ciencias. Detestaba asignaturas de letras. Con el tiempo tambi\u00e9n acab\u00e9 detestando las de ciencias. Afortunadamente, o quiz\u00e1s no, la fotograf\u00eda se cruz\u00f3 en mi camino en un momento crucial aunque vulnerable. Aquel curso de iniciaci\u00f3n al revelado de fotograf\u00eda en blanco y negro en el instituto al que una amiga me pidi\u00f3 que me apuntara con ella fue el punto de inflexi\u00f3n en mi vida. Suena solemne aunque a estas alturas de la vida a\u00fan no s\u00e9 si fue catastr\u00f3fico y una bendici\u00f3n. \u00bfQu\u00e9 hubiese pasado si en vez de decantarme por la fotograf\u00eda lo hubiera hecho por la f\u00edsica? Quiero pensar que en otra vida me volver\u00e9 a decantar por la fotograf\u00eda, para bien o para mal. Por supuesto, por aquel entonces, la fotograf\u00eda era lo que se llama ahora anal\u00f3gica, con carretes, reveladores, ba\u00f1os de paro, rom\u00e1nticas luces rojas y olores a todo tipo de qu\u00edmicos menos rom\u00e1nticos. Jam\u00e1s en la vida se me dio bien el dibujo. As\u00ed que decid\u00ed probar suerte a ingresar en La Escuela de Arte de Oviedo y estudiar fotograf\u00eda. Las pruebas de ingreso requer\u00edan pasar unos ex\u00e1menes de historia del arte. Pero tambi\u00e9n pasar una prueba de dibujo. Era la primera vez en mi vida que ten\u00eda una caballete de pintura delante de mis narices. A pocos metros la examinadora dispuso un bodeg\u00f3n de frutas a su antojo. -Ten\u00e9is que reinterpretar este bodeg\u00f3n,- espet\u00f3. Yo no sab\u00eda si dejar el lienzo en blanco y largarme o probar suerte a ver si sonaba la flauta. Opt\u00e9 por esta \u00faltima consideraci\u00f3n. Eleg\u00ed la t\u00e9cnica abstracta. La flauta no debi\u00f3 de sonar. Mi reinterpretaci\u00f3n del bodeg\u00f3n con esta t\u00e9cnica no debi\u00f3 de calar muy hondo ni emocionar. Dar\u00eda lo que fuera por recuperar aquella obra de arte. Mi primera obra abstracta pintada. M\u00e1s que nada para echarme unas risas porque aquello tuvo que impresionar. Quiz\u00e1s me equivoqu\u00e9 de t\u00e9cnica. La impresionista hubiese sido una mejor elecci\u00f3n. O no. \u00bfQui\u00e9n lo puede saber? Tampoco supe cu\u00e1ntos, de los ex\u00e1menes que hice, aprob\u00e9. NO APTO. Puerta cerrada. Yo segu\u00eda haciendo fotograf\u00edas y revelando en mi casa en una especie de laboratorio que mont\u00e9 en uno de los ba\u00f1os. Varios d\u00edas a la semana y durante 24 horas aquel ba\u00f1o estaba inoperativo en la casa. Inoperativo para su uso tradicional, quiero decir. Tambi\u00e9n por casualidad, o quiz\u00e1s no, conoc\u00ed por aquel entonces a quien ser\u00eda mi maestro por muchos a\u00f1os (y lo sigue siendo). De su mano asist\u00ed a cursos de fotograf\u00eda en una academia privada. No fueron pocos (revelado, positivado, composici\u00f3n, retrato, sistema de zonas\u2026). A\u00f1os despu\u00e9s vendr\u00eda el contacto con la fotograf\u00eda profesional, code\u00e1ndome con fotograf\u00eda de prensa, deportiva, corporativa, de producto. Pero principalmente fueron unos cuantos a\u00f1os de fotograf\u00eda de estudio, bodas y comuniones en la provincia de Segovia. Y, por supuesto, llegar\u00eda la fotograf\u00eda digital a revolucionarlo todo. El hecho de dedicarme profesionalmente a la fotograf\u00eda hizo que descuidara mi fotograf\u00eda personal. Aunque no faltaron las salidas fotogr\u00e1ficas por las Sierras de Gredos y Guadarrama para hacer fotograf\u00eda de paisaje y macro, entre otras cosas. Y despu\u00e9s de tantos a\u00f1os me apetec\u00eda m\u00e1s expresarme y abrirme en canal para sacar lo consciente y lo inconsciente. Redescubrirme. Buscarme y encontrarme. De momento ah\u00ed estoy. En la b\u00fasqueda. \u00bfQui\u00e9n soy? \u00bfQui\u00e9n no soy? \u00bfDe d\u00f3nde vengo y a d\u00f3nde voy? T\u00edpicas preguntas existenciales de alguien que est\u00e1 en la edad de los 50. Ah\u00ed estoy. ENTRE LOS SUE\u00d1OS Y LA REALIDAD","sameAs":["https:\/\/monicariveiro.es","https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/MonicaRiveiro","https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/monica.riveiro_photography","https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/channel\/UCC-negirTyN3H2NjxAMktSw"],"url":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/author\/monicapersonal\/"}]}},"author_meta":{"display_name":"M\u00f3nica Riveiro","author_link":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/author\/monicapersonal\/"},"featured_img":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/10\/chinita1-300x300.jpg","coauthors":[],"tax_additional":{"categories":{"linked":["<a href=\"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/experiencias\/\" class=\"advgb-post-tax-term\">Experiencias<\/a>"],"unlinked":["<span class=\"advgb-post-tax-term\">Experiencias<\/span>"]},"tags":{"linked":["<a href=\"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/experiencias\/\" class=\"advgb-post-tax-term\">Experiencias<\/a>"],"unlinked":["<span class=\"advgb-post-tax-term\">Experiencias<\/span>"]}},"comment_count":"2","relative_dates":{"created":"Posted 3 years ago","modified":"Updated 3 years ago"},"absolute_dates":{"created":"Posted on 30 de October de 2023","modified":"Updated on 31 de October de 2023"},"absolute_dates_time":{"created":"Posted on 30 de October de 2023 23:37","modified":"Updated on 31 de October de 2023 00:11"},"featured_img_caption":"","series_order":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1800","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1800"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1800\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1803"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1800"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1800"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/monicariveiro.es\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1800"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}