The Big, Wide World

Homeland vs. Motherland: Celebrities

2008-10-10T15:24:00.006+02:00

I was walking along Gran Via de Catalanes when I stopped and did a double take: Cherie Gil, is dat chu?

Her name is Gemma Mengual and she's a famous synchronized swimmer born in Barcelona. She's famous, as in kaliwa't kanan ang endorsements, akala mo si Kris Aquino. She competed in the last Olympics.

Here's Cherie

A Filipina actress of Spanish-German descent, she is very famous for her to the hilt contravida (villainess) roles.

VERDICT: "You are nothing but a second rate, trying hard copycat!" Sorry hindi ko feel and teefs ni Gemma.

Homeland vs. Motherland: Ensai(y)mada

2008-10-05T14:44:00.006+02:00

Since the Philippines used to be a Spanish colony, we have a lot of things in common with the Spanish. Words, traditions,culture have transferred, mutated, and have become uniquely Filipino.

While here, I'll be running a series called Homeland vs. Motherland. Basically, comparing things that exist in both countries, and judging which is better. I hope rabid nationalists won't object to me naming Spain as Motherland, but in a lot of cases it is true, and we do owe some aspects of our culture to the colonial period, indelible and undeniable. Other suggestions are welcome!

Ok first up is ensaymada.

The Spanish ensaimada is a creature similar to the Filipino ensaymada, except that it is fluffier, more like a croissant. It is either glazed or covered in powedered sugar.

(From Tagaytay econoinn website. Fair use po!)

Like what Carlos Celdran says in his tour, the Filipinos tend to overdecorate and overdo everything. Ensaymadas in the Philippines not only have a layer of granulated sugar over it, even the most bakya versions have a thick layer of Star Margarine over it (for non-Pinoys, it is the most artificial tasting yellow lard that passes for margarine in the Philippines). In the fancier versions, grated cheese and even itlog na maalat (month-old eggs pickled in salt) feature on the ensaymada. The fluffier versions (like Mulach Ensaymadas) are similar to the ones in Spain, but they are much softer, and less flaky than the Spanish Ensaimada.

VERDICT: Pinoy Ensaymada FTW! Mas nakakabusog!

The Towering Castells of Catalunya

2008-10-01T19:43:00.004+02:00

A lot of things move me to tears. Lately, the realization of a dream made my eyeballs moisten.

You see, as a young girl growing up and dreaming of adventure, I had always wanted to watch the Castellers of Spain do their thing, live. I saw it once on the Discovery Channel one day, and thought, wow, I would like to be part of that.

I am so happy to be able to witness the Castellers, live! And I am so grateful to have an old Catalunyan by my side actually explain the whys and hows of the Castellers, who are just so amazing. A devoted fan of the practice, he even gave me a hand-out of the different formations and explanations in English and German, and we spoke in a mish-mash of Spanish and English.

I wish you were here with me to see this

Molts Merces, Catalunya! Featured are the Minyons de Terrassa.

We're Not Gonna Pay/This or Last Year's Rent

2008-09-17T15:49:00.004+02:00

Well, living in Barcelona is definitely giving me the vibe that I am in New York City. Had an interesting fiasco with getting my keys, had to schlepp my ass halfway across the city to get it. Then I find out on the second day that I am living in an illegal sublet (super: who are you? my roommate. I live here! super: you're not in the contract!) So they know that she lives there but they don't know that I do. So if anybody asks, I'm the cleaning lady. If there's a time to capitalize on a stereotype, this is the time. Meanwhile, the German girl who actually rented out the place is still in Germany.

I am having a grand ole time, out all night wrecking havoc on the city, I came home one fine 2 a.m. to the sound of my hot roomie having sex with her second boyfriend. I have seen sex before, but it seems so invasive to listen to someone who doesn't want you to listen. Somehow the thump thump thump of the headboards and their ughs ugh ugh made me feel like I was 10 again in my bedroom praying for the love of god, please make my parents STOP so I went to bed without peeing and brushing my teeth.

Yup, life is interesting and I spend my free time at the beach. Dear J. I am a convert. Germany does suck.

If I Were White

2008-09-02T14:10:00.004+02:00

Whenever I am at the receiving end of some sort of injustice, I always ask myself: Would this person have done the same thing if I were white? If yes, I let it go. If not, I feel really sad because I know that I cannot change this person's prejudices whatever I do.

My Father-in-Law and I have not had the easiest of relationships. He didn't sign the affidavit of support I needed to get to Germany. I understood his skepticism. I mean, I am this Asian girl he doesn't know from Adam, and he has to theoretically shell out 600 euros a month in case I didn't make it here. Besides, Thomas also had a history of being enthusiastic about something at the beginning, then plateuing at the end. Who knew that this wasn't some short-lived romance?

His current partner is not the monster my MIL portrays her to be. She is quite nice, and we get along well. In fact, I took her, and not my MIL, to go wedding dress shopping because she's more kikay like that. My MIL is not the fashionista.

I dozed off for a few minutes on my reclining chair after having brunch with them and Thomas last Saturday. I was in that hazy area between sleep and consciousness when I heard my FIL refer to me as the "Hausdame." (Housekeeper). I didn't catch the first part of the sentence. It could be in reference to the constant jabs I make at Thomas because he rarely keeps house. I feigned sleep as I heard his partner say that I am his fifth child, in reference to her two biological children and his two biological children.

Then they dropped the subject. I decided to "wake up" a few minutes later.

The question now is, should I let this go?

Could the conductors track you down if you give them a fake address

2008-08-28T11:50:00.002+02:00

The straßenbahn conductors caught me today, gave me a 40 euro ticket. I remembered too late that I have the stamp on ticket today and not the monatskarte, which you just have to show. My karte expired two days ago, so I bought the vierer karte yesterday. I was about to stamp it when the checker covered the machine and said that I had to pay. I guess he really needed the money to make the quota.

They asked for cash, I didn't have any. They asked for my passport, I said I didn't have it (although I did), and gave them my insurance card instead. I decided at the last minute to lie, so I named the address three doors down.

I tore the ticket to shreds before I got home. Fuckers.

Who Does it Harder Better Faster?

2008-08-21T11:53:00.004+02:00

Compare:

versus

Thanks to Paloys

iOVAYA!

2008-08-15T18:05:00.002+02:00

A plea for help: Does anybody here know anybody in Barcelona, (as in Spain, not Zamboanga)? Are you currently living in Barcelona? If so, please contact me! I am pulling hairs because I still don't have an apartment in Barcelona. I am leaving on the 31st of August, arriving in Barcelona at 1 pm. I would really like to have an apartment by then, weil kein Bok habe 20 euro pro tag für ein Bett zu zahlen.

End of ad.

On the topic, here's a very funny ad from Spain!

Prague

2008-08-06T11:43:00.003+02:00

Went to Prague and tried to do it in a day--never again!

Anyhoo, I will go back in May with my friends, and I would definitely check out the Museum of Sex Machines and the Museum of Medieval Torture. That's the great thing about living in Europe! Proximity to amazing cities, and crazy museums.

National Museum,Prague

King Wenceslas Statue

Wide Boulevards

Prague may suffer from poor urban planning, but its beauty are in its details.

Tyn Church

Tower where the Astronomical clock is located.

Loved the intricate design on the door.

The clock itself.

Museum beside the Clock

Fountain near the clock

Tower at the start of the St. Charles's Bridge

Sts. Norbert, Wenceslas and Sigismond on the bridge

Dopen oder Nicht Dopen?

2008-08-02T11:15:00.003+02:00

Ich war total langeweilt letzter Mittwoch als mein Mann das Fernseher nicht umschalten möchte. Ich wollte einen Dokumentarfilm über gemischte Ehepaaren hier in Deutschland, er wollte aber einen Film über Die Olympiade, besonders über Doping, gucken.

"Das ist total dumm," sagte ich. "Sie sollten eigentlich Doping legal machen, weil Sie alle eh dopen."

Auf Tagalog, werde ich sagen "nagpantig ang tenga ni Thomas." Er hat mich gestarrt und hat fast geschrien "Was? wie so kannst du das sagen! Natürlich sollte das illegal werden! Sie stellen ein schlechtes Beispiel für die Kinder! Das schadet doch anderen Leute!"

Ok relax Mann. Ich wusste, dass Thomas, damals ein Leistunsgssprortler war, und sich besonders an Fahhradfahren interessiert, wird meine Meinung nicht nehmen.

"Andere Leute nicht schaden? Wie bitte? Was ist dann mit deinem 'jointily-ointily'?"

"Ich schade dadurch niemand."

"Aha. Und was dann mit Rauchen? Sie haben das wieder in Kneipen erlaubt. Wenn Eltern rauchen, sie sind auch ein schlechtes Vorbild für ihren Kinder, und sie schaden doch viele Leute mit dem Qualm."

"Naja, aber Doping ist tödlich..."

"Und Rauchen? Ist das nicht tödlich für den Raucher und die Leute herum?"

"Naja, aber das ist doch unfair für die Leute, die nicht dopen."

"Hallo, wenn Doping erlaubt ist, dann alle werden Dopen, und dann wird das wieder fair, und ehrlicher. Kuck mal Amerika an in den 20ger Jahren, sie hatten Prohibition vergeblich eingesetzt."

Also, wir hatten uns dann für ewig diskutiert. Was denken Sie dann it Doping?

Be Sweet by the Afghan Whigs

2008-07-14T22:10:00.000+02:00

Ladies, let me tell you about myself
I got a dick for a brain
And my brain is gonna sell my ass to you
Now I'm OK, but in time I'll find I'm stuck
'Cause she wants love, and I still want to fuck
Now that I'm ashamed, it burns
But the weight is off
Now that you're out of the way
I turn and I can walk
You showed no sympathy, my love
And this was no place for you and me to walk alone

On my grave, am I OK?
I'm sure I'm not
Ladies let me tell you about my love
She kept giving me more
But it wasn't enough
So understand
Now that I come to you
To understand my little self
To understand my little self

And baby you be sweet

Let's Talk Shop

2008-07-14T21:50:00.004+02:00

I am to be found banging my head against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Why am I stupid? Cause I am crap at negotiations.

I am a crap businesswoman. I am the sort who would buy a piece of candy wholesale for 50 cents a piece and sell it for 25 retail.

Let's start with School A. I have been working for B for two years now as a freelance English Teacher. The pay is crap, around 12.50 an hour. I say crap because compared to other language schools, who pay freelancers 18 an hour, you would say that I am getting the short end of the stick. However, the fact I can roll out of bed and teach because I've got the material down pat and don't have to spend hours preparing for the lesson counts for something. The fact that I am also paid a unit for a test I didn't even write is a major plus.

School B is a trade school that I started working for last March. I asked for 24 an hour, they said that all they could offer me is 18 during the probationary period. I said ok.

But shit it is GD hard work.I spend as much time in the classroom as I do preparing for lessons and checking homework. I earn 9 euros effectively, as I put so much effing work into each effing lesson.

I had renegotiations today and I blew it. I settled for effing 20 an hour, which was they made clear at the very beginning was how much they were willing to pay. I don't mean to sound greedy, but geez I am basically settling for so much work, and I have to pay for my own health insurance and taxes. She started by already planning out the next semester, before talking about pay. I mean, I am very interested in what I am going to teach there, it's more challenging than the grammar shit I do at school A. I really need to get rid of this Filipino thing of being afraid to talk about money.

Aaargh, I just think money is money, no matter the source and the work I did to get it. But sometimes I wonder if I always sell myself short?

Wir Sind Vom Selben Stern

2008-07-01T19:46:00.005+02:00

I have always had what my husband considers an unhealthy fascination for homosexuals. I am myself not one, but I have always been strongly attracted to, or completely at ease with, homosexuals.

I started to read up on FTM (female to male) transgendered people. I was randomly surfing the net two years ago when I came across Buck Angel, a former model turned porn star and FTM advocate, and I was hooked. Even before that guy in Oregon got pregnant, before I saw Boys Don't Cry and Transamerica, I was fascinated at how people can transform their outward appearance to suit how they wanted to look, of how your life choices and lifestyle affect your body.

It is unfortunate that I lump transgendered people with gay people. They are obviously not the same thing, but my point is that I am pretty open-minded and well-informed when it comes to people with sexuality or gender-identity differences.

I recently discovered that one of my good friends is a MTF transgendered person. An acquaintance had a Freudian slip (? I don't really believe that it was accidental), and told me. I was quite shocked, but I acted as if I suspected all along. I mean, I've always noticed that her hips were so slender for a woman. But then again, many women have slender hips.

I really had no inkling that she was transgendered. Honestly, it does't matter to me, she is still a person after all, deserving to be treated with respect and dignity. It really wasn't nice of the person to reveal this tidbit to me. I would have preferred for the truth to come out of the horse's mouth. Now I am left wondering how to act when we meet again. Of course, she would notice something amiss if I treat her differently. Should I continue the charade of pretending that she was born female? What if I tread upon a topic that inadvertently steps on her feelings? There was this one time when we talked about anal sex, and she seemed awfully quiet.

How should I react when, in her own due time,she decides to reveal to me her origins? How do I react? Should I ask questions? Should I pretend indifference? I will accept her all the same, but the method of my acceptance could be something that could make or break our friendship. She is a lovely person, and I don't want to say the wrong thing.

Only time can tell, right?

Berlin Noch Mal

2008-06-22T21:23:00.007+02:00

Finally, Berlin in summer! I'm always in Berlin during the winter, and I finally got to do some sightseeing, and Berlin in summer ist noch wunderbarer! I went to Berlin to meet up with my childhood friend Yen, and we had a hoot! They left on Friday, and Thomas joined me on the same day.

Saya ng puro babae lang! Shopping galore! Walang panira eksena! Haha!

Sony Center Tourist Trap

What's left of the Berlin Wall, Potsdamer Platz

Me and Yen

Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtnis Kirche, Ku'damm.

Bundestag. See the line? You can skip it if you have a kid with you.

Dome on the Bundestag

Charlie's Angels

Bundestag Interiors

Mukha siyang spaceship

Brandenburger Tor

Typical GDR Apartment, DDR Museum

Lashingan with Yen and Carsten

Their last day, I was missing them already. So much fun!

Thomas at Alexanderplatz

Knut ist cute!

Thomas having a staring match with his brother at the Berlin Zoo.

Sa uulitin!

Germany's Next Top Model: Recap

2008-06-05T22:31:00.004+02:00

Ohne Zweifel, die dritte Staffel von Germany's Next Top Model ist das beste von allen! Die Challenges sind echt interessant und realistisch. Ich kann diese Challenges als echtem Modelingjobs vorstellen! Production values sind sehr hoch, nicht wie beim Tyra Banks. GNTM ist uberhaupt kein Verglich zu ANTM! Ehrlich! Und ich war eine damalige Zuschauerin bei ANTM!

Viele von den letzten 12 Kandidatinnen haben echt gute Chancen, Models zu werden, mit oder ohne GNTM. Sie sind sehr gut ausgewählt

UPDATE: Das WUsste Ich Doch!

Ich wusste doch das die Jenny gewinnt! An der letzen Sendung haben sie Jenny gebeten, ein anderes Kleid anzuziehen! Genau so wie Barbara letztes Jahr!Bei Anschau von dem Cosmo Shoot hatte nur Jenny den Cosmo Titel hinter ihr!

Naja, Obwohl die Janina ein sehr gutes Modell ist, Jenny ist junger, und in dem Modelgeschäft je junger desto besser, weil die Modelagentur mehr geld von ihr gewinnen kann. Sie verkörpert auch den Trend in der Modellwelt, androgeny, und ich glaube, dass die GNTM Jury wollte dran einkassieren und eine Konkurrentin für Agyness Deyn bewerben.

Janina hat bestimmt eine ganz gute Zukunft als Modell, obwohl sie den Titel nicht hat, selbst die Giselle, so verhasst wie sie ist, hat etwas, an X Factor, und wird auch Modell. Die Christina war eine unerwartete Kandidatin in dritte Platz, aber GNTM möchte immer jemand dabei haben, die sich von Maus zum Löwe entwickeln wurde. Sie haben vielleicht an Sarah gehofft, aber wir wissen wie das geklappt hat...Aber sie hat ihren Platz verdient, muss ich dazu geben.

Sehr gut gemacht, Heidi!

Welcome to Hell. Enjoy Your Stay!

2008-05-30T17:07:00.006+02:00

Warning: Adult Content
I had been dying to visit the The Kit Kat ever since the very gay Adam told me about it. He went there to go to the Hustlaball.

So when a couple of friends of mine told me that they were going to Berlin, I took the opportunity to arrange a visit. At around this time, Thomas was getting a bit antsy about our sex life, and had begun to cajole me to try a threesome.

"I don't want to do a threesome," I said. "I don't need it, and if ever I do it, I'd like guy-guy-girl, not girl-girl-guy!"

"But c'mon it's really gonna be fun! I mean, I have slept with so few women..."

Aha. So he's looking for a loophole in the fidelity part of I do.

"But I've slept with enough people, I really don't have the need to sleep around any longer. Besides, the mere thought of licking a woman's pussy disgusts me!"

"God, since when have you been so boring?"

What? The temerity of this asshole. I'm the one who's not getting her thrice weekly expected marital obligations, and you call me BORING?!!

I signed us up at Craiglist that very night.

* * *

I did some very thorough research before going into the club. What to expect, and so on. It was "lack and leather" night,so I dropped 100 euros at a sex shop while I was in Berlin for a pleather dress. It's very cute, but it also screams whore.

Thomas was a bit upset when i told him I wanted to go into the club with my visiting friends, so I changed my mind and told him we could go there to look for our "bi curious femme."

Around this time, I also read up on threesomes, the mechanics, how it happens. I read a lot of Savage Love, interviewed people who have participated in threesomes.

We rented a moderately expensive room at a hotel that night in anticipation. I was quite disappointed that Thomas failed to prepare for "the big night." I mean, I was merely curious, he was in search of somebody. He wore his same old business suit.

Saturday. We stand in front of the door, and were required to show what we had underneath our coats. "You know that this is the Kit Kat Club and what it stands for..." said the door bitch.

I unbuttoned my trench. She nodded approvingly. 10 euros, our signature in a sheet of paper titled "Association of Hedonists," and we were in.

The sprawling Kit Kat Club had four bars, so many dance floors, a "couple's room," and a swimming pool, which was closed for that night. Looking at the red lights and the neon flourescent images of fornicating people on the walls, I was reminded of how hell was presented to us in Catholic school.

Everybody's weird fetishes were welcome. And I believe I saw it all. We watched a bondage show. I saw very young, and very cute twinks. A naked, faded hippie with long, gray hair alternately smoked, danced, and masturbated on stage. A handsome young man started dancing, took off his jacket, and revealed a nice set of breasts. A young man in a wheelchair, his emaciated limbs painting day-glo flowers on women's breasts and taking photos of it. A woman who had Dolly Parton ambitions.

All possible sexual permutations, outside of beast-human, were well represented. Man-woman, Dom-Slave, Man-Man, Woman-Woman, Man-Woman-woman, who knows what else.

It was quite apparent who were newbies there. There were a lot of couples who I guess were also looking for their bi curious male or female who seemed weirded out by the sex that surrounded them. I guess when they wanted to fuck somebody else,they didn't contend with the methods that they had to go through to get them. They all stood in the corner, huddled like little bunnies, eyes wide as saucers.

As for me, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. A man and a woman started fucking right before me. To be honest, I was so turned on that I wanted to jump in.

"Kiss me," I ordered Thomas. "Play with my tits." All he could do was oblige me with lukewarm effort. I could see that all this sex was too hardcore for Thomas. He had the bunny look, too. So I pushed Thomas away and continued watching the intertwined couple with fascination reserved for animals in a zoo.

* * *

At the beginning of the night, Thomas and I began scoping the territory for a potential partner.

"How about that blonde?" He asked.

"Naah. Too many teeth."

We both fancied one of the barmaids, a topless Betty Page lookalike in a corset.

So we went back to the chill-out lounge and started discussing our strategy when the blonde sat behind us and lit a joint.

"Is that a joint I smell?" I asked, and started the ball rolling. She was friendly enough, offered to share the joint. She wasn't interested, she said, she had a boyfriend. We looked at her skeptically, and she shrugged. "After all, this is the Kit Kat. Alles kann, nichts muss."

After a couple of hours we still hadn't found anybody. I started getting frustrated. "Look Thomas, if we aren't hitting on anybody, we might as well go home."

"Well, why aren't you hitting on anybody as well?"

"Are you kidding me? I asked her, she wasn't interested. It's your turn now."

"But it's easier for you!"

"Hey buddy, you wanted it, you go get it. I have made everything so easy for you. I arranged for us to go here, I've hit on somebody. You can't expect me to serve up everything for you on a silver platter."

"But you're pressuring me. It's making everything so much harder!" He whined.

The barmaid came into the lounge. She's obviously on break, and is making small talk with the other bartender. "I'm going to the restroom," Thomas said. Wuss, I muttered in my head.

I wanted Thomas to do this himself, but I also wanted to make it easier for him. So I went to the bar and sat next to Ms. Page. She was speaking German to the bartender. I bided my time, ate some of the fruit from the fruit platter, looking at the woman.

Thomas came in, and saw me beside her. Make your move now, my eyes commanded.

Thomas stood between us...and did nothing. The barmaid obviously had a clue, because she told the bartender in English "I'll come an hour after now, during my next break."

She slinked off, and Thomas started to kick himself. "Why am I so chicken?!"

To this day I think that she said that for our benefit, and that she would've accomodated us, if we hadn't sussed out. "Let's go home," I said.

It was already light out when we left.

Thomas and Cathy do the Philippines, Part 2

2008-05-01T09:24:00.006+02:00

Landed in Manila, and did the Carlos Celdran Tour. I have been following his blog for sometime now. Most of the things he said were things I already knew, but there were things that I didn't know, and I am all the more grateful for that info. Just knowing how Manila became what it is, in comparison to what it could have been (see: Barcelona), means we can all do something to change it.

Snake Island, our first stop in Palawan, and part of the archipelao out of Honda Bay. Government owned, so we didn't have to pay to stay on the island, although a small donation would be appreciated. You have to pay the boatman 600 to get there, but if you are able to find another tourist willing to split the cost, then it would be a lot cheaper. A boat is able to carry up to 6 people. No amenities, no fresh water, so better bring a bottle of tap water, a tent, and a spade in case you want to do number 2 in the wild. If that's too much for you, hop over to Pandan island nearby, where they have toilets and showers with fresh running water. The photo on the hammock (see January) was taken on Pandan Island.

Looks like a hotel room, doesn't it? We wanted to catch the first bus to Sabang, home of the Underground River. After a futile search for a camping site. (I mean mygulay Thomas, we're in the Ph not in Europe, walang camping site dito!), a kindly furniture maker/vendor who had a stall at the marketplace beside the bus station offered us a wooden bed in his stall. In exchange, I guess, for us manning his shop for the night. Robbers are wary when they see people sleeping in the shop. We were woken promptly the next day at 6 am by the squealing of pigs from a slaughterhouse 100 meters away. Fun.

The bus turned out to be this giant monster all-terrain jeepney, which was packed to the brim, complete with people on top. So full, that this guy was standing on the hood of the jeepney. I have had the fortune of riding on top of a jeepney twice! It's like being on a roller coaster! The terrain going to Sabang, where the Underground River is, was very rocky, to say the least. It made me think of an old brake fluid commercial of the Sex Bomb dancers: "Laban Laban! o Bawi Bawi!"

Entrance to the Underground river. Beauty Pageant ang dating, Odiva?

Me facing The Bayawak. I think this is the Philippine Komodo Dragon? Anyway, I can't imagine anybody eating such a creature, although people assure me its meat is delicious.

Mama Macaque with Baby Macaque. Be careful, she might steal your glasses! She has a special fondness for handbags, I've heard.

I remember seeing several of these when I was a kid in Cavite. Now that Cavite has become a suburb of Manila, and I hope that this sight won't become extinct on our islands.

Falls near Sabang. A very rocky two kilometer hike to get there from the main beach. I wouldn't say that the falls were woth the hike, but the rocks are good way to train and test for balance. There is a Chinese temple nearby, where people give donation for "maintenance." I imagine that a lot of wannabe kung-fu artists train here.

The thick jungles of Sabang. I came up with the brilliant idea to climb Mount Apo, an idea that burned so bright in Thomas' head, so we decided to hire a guide to trek the jungle in preparation. Hungry mosquitoes fed on my legs despite mosquito lotion, and I was a bit scared that I was going to come down with Malaria. Although northern Palawan is malaria-free, you never know.

If you want to try trekking that jungle, bring a good hat, a machete and extra clothes. You think of rattan, all nice and beautiful, the stuff your wicker chair is made of. In the jungle, rattan is nasty, its bark covered with big, dangerous needles that pierce your forehead if you're not careful. Filipinos think of Pandan as that nice leaf you put into your rice for flavoring. In reality, Pandan is a spiky monster. Better bring your hat.

This was our destination, the source of the Underground River, called the Daylight Hole. See that rise? I climbed that with only flip-flops on!

Where we were.

After a dusty seven-hour jeepney ride, we reached Paradise. In between San Vicente and Port Barton. Too bad that speculators got there first, and somebody is going to build a resort out of paradise.

Our tent, facing Port Barton beach.

The biggest pothole in history. Our jeepney barely made it through. Note the man walking on the road.

Our next stop after Palawan was Cebu, where we caught this Cessna bound for Camiguin. Thomas took a picture of the plane because he didn't believe me when I told him that was our plane after I saw it land on the runway. Not until the last minute. This is akin to Thomas saying "Takot ako!"

The hardest climb I've undertaken: Mt. Hibok-Hibok on Camiguin. the terrain was rocky, and the rain made everything so slick. We also didn't get a good view of the island because of the rain.

Note the names of the island's governor, congressman, and mayor on this billboard in Camiguin. And the mango-carrying Santa!

This is the life: Ardent Hot Springs, Camiguin.

Sunken Cemetry off Camiguin. This used to be a part of the island when Mt. Hibok-Hibok erupted in the 1870s, and the seismic forces drowned this part of the island. A white cross marks where the cemetery used to be. Snorkeling is great fun, and a bit eerie, seeing how the coral has overrun the graves, exposing their interiors. It's like visiting a normal cemetery. I was reflecting on the lives of these people as the colorful clownfish passed by. I think it is a good idea to be buried underwater and have the coral grow over you. Kind of like the people who want to be buried under trees, their bodies to be used as fertilizer after they pass on. Very ecological, doncha think?

After Camiguin, we took the ferry to Butuan and took the bus to Davao, and went to the Agusan Marsh, where Thomas hoped that we could get a glimpse of crocs in the wild. We couldn't find a campsite. This being Mindanao, there was a general fear among the people for our safety. It isn't unusual to see people carrying high-powered weapons here. We were first holed up in a place that had the temerity to call itself an inn, when we contacted some military people we met, who let us graciously stay in their compound. They were puzzled by the idea that people would want to stay in a tent.

A basketball court in the middle of the Marsh.

This is the habal habal, or Skylab, in honor of the satellite look-alike. I have a very nasty burn scar now just above my right ankle when a habal-habal I took tipped over and the exhaust pipe touched my skin. Transportation being tight and roads being decrepit, this is the method of transportation in many islands. This baby can sit 10 people.

We then moved on to Davao and climbed Mt. Apo

If I would move back to the PH, I would probably choose to live in Davao or Cebu. Can you imagine having a beach within city limits with crystal clear waters? Samal Island, Davao.

Had a small farewell party afterwards. A nice way to end a vacation.

2008-04-23T21:24:00.000+02:00

I asked my students to open a blog for their school assignments, so I don't have to schlepp paper everytime I go to class. I am very disorganized, you see.

I just read the blog of one of my students, and it scares me to realize that they are looking for somebody who actually gives a fuck, just as I wanted somebody to please, give a fuck.

I wonder how long I will last giving a fuck.

Topsy Turvy

2008-04-22T22:22:00.005+02:00

I am a firm believer that language is a reflection of the people's culture. Just as the people of Nigeria have 34 different words for Green, Filipinos have a lot of words for Rice.

For the Pinoys out there, think about how many words we have for rice? From Palay to Bahaw, we've got it all covered. Just to show you foreigners that rice is life. In a lot of SEA countries, the word rice is the same as the word eat. In Tagalog, Kanin and Kain don't sound so dissimilar.

As you know, I am currently studying Spanish in preparation for my trip to Spanish. It's actually harder to learn a language that is very similar to my own. What made retaining German hard was its similarity to English. I still have difficulty switching from English to German, but it's a cinch from German to Tagalog, because the languages are so different. I suspect that I will have the same difficulties with Spanish and Tagalog.

I have to get over the fact that in Spanish, Almozar means lunch, not breakfast, that my casa has four paredes, not pader, , that the accent of panaderia is at the "ia ," and not at the "pa."

But what really blows me away is that most of the verbs that Tagalog adopted from Spain are in the third person singular, which is the way Spanish issues its imperatives! I participated in one of Carlos Celdran's tours, and I was struck by something he said: That Filipino street food is a cuisine of tira, or leftovers, a slave's meal. I was struck by the fact that while Alipin seems to be a Malay word, Amo, or Master, is Spanish.

I can imagine how Tagalog picked up certain words because these were the only Spanish words that the poor muchachos picked up, from the orders of their masters. Puede became Pwede. In Visayan, Saka means to climb, which is of course the third person singular of, guess what? Sacar. Cierra? Sara. Sigue? Sige!

I am not begrudging the Spanish for not teaching us the language. I thank them for it because they preserved Tagalog, a very interesting mix of Malay, Chinese, Spanish, and English. What has been done has been done, and I am grateful for the variety they introduced to my language. I actually damn the Filipinos that followed. For all our words for rice, they have failed us by failing to implement Land Reform and actually have our country self sufficient enough to minimize imports. For a country that eats rice morning, noon, and night, we need to import 90 % of our rice, and we are currently at the mercy of ballooning rice prices.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

2008-04-03T12:20:00.002+02:00

I would like to apologize in advance if I am not able to update my blog. I am having a very busy stretch right now, studying Spanish in preparation for my trip to Barcelona, and trying to get more private work to finance my trip.

I still have to upload photos of my Philippine trip, so I hope you could bear with me!

Armaggedon

2008-03-25T23:43:00.002+01:00

As Eurotrippen put it, some serious, end of times shit has been afoot. Today and yesterday saw some crazy weather go down. It was sunny, snowy, and cloudy all at the same time!

In other news, Paris Hilton will be headlining the "Wetten, dass..." show this weekend, which will be filmed in Erfurt. Coincidence?

Of Basil, and other things

2008-03-22T12:57:00.003+01:00

Can anybody help me out with my basil? My basil is acting up. I bought my plant from Lidl, and at first it seemed fine but it has developed clusters of black spots, which seem to be eating the leaves.

The basil is in long planter with rosemary and chives. The rosemary and chives seem fine, but the basil has always acted up. My first basil plant and my chilis died from aphids, but it did not kill my rosemary and chives.

Secondly, I just wanted to share my current favorite song, Superstar from Lupe Fiasco featuring Matt Santos (yes, he's part Pinoy!) Santos has an amazing voice, reminds me of Chris Martin and John Mayer, but just check out his other songs, his range is amazing!

Those Who Can't Do, Teach

2008-03-20T14:24:00.005+01:00

I was a pretty precocious kid growing up. I learned to read when I was three, and my linguistic capabilities were miles away from my peers. It ran in the family. We were bookworms, English teachers, journalists, polyglots.

In the fifth grade I joined a drama group, and I spent my high school years with the drama club. I was such a drama queen growing up, it was the perfect outlet. As I entered my senior year, I asked myself, should I take up drama or journalism next year?

The answer came in the form of Mrs. Guevarra, my fourth year English high school teacher. She had just come back from a scholarship in Japan, and was the second person in the world that I wanted to be like when I grew up (My grandpa was the first). I thought she was so refined and elegant, with the way she walked, and how she sipped her diet Coke in can everyday on her way to class before the first bell rang.

She recognized something in me, me who was so insecure and was bullied to pieces by my schoolmates. She actually validated my existence and recognized that I actually had something to offer the world. For the first time in my life, I thought I knew what I needed to do: I needed to be a writer. It was a plan that I hatched when I was twelve, but I felt that this was the push that told me, to just do it.

So I spent four years in college pretty much immersing myself in the writing craft. It was one of the best times in my life. I may have failed algebra four times, but hey, who cared? I was there to become a writer.

Then I graduated and the real world ate me up alive. It was so cruel and brutal and mean, that I just drifted along in life, trying to become an adult. Classic quarter-life crisis.I never wanted the government journ job I was doing. I thought, maybe I'll leave after two years, which became, I'll leave when I pass my civil service exams. Two years turned into four and a half. The pay was too cushy, the hours too comfortable that I basically vegged out on life. I was just getting my journ career back on track when I met Thomas. I wanted to stay because I was going to miss my family and friends, but a part of me wanted to grow out of my skin so badly that I thought, it's now or never.

I started to learn German two years ago, and discovered that I had a knack for languages. I started to teach English on the side. It was a rough beginning, but I could honestly say that this is the most fun I have ever had working. I swear, the cockles of my heart tingle than to hear a student exclaim "Ach, so!" I get it!

The weird thing is that I am currently teaching Essay Writing, International Affairs, and Public Relations to a group of kids aged 18 to 20. These kids finished Realschule in Germany, meaning they left school at 16. They are on their final year of school, after which they would earn the German equivalent of an Associate degree. I was stupefied to learn that their teachers in school had never required a book report in their classes, nor had these kids written an essay! In my high school, we were required to turn in four essays a year!

Now that I have become Mrs. Guevarra, I take my job pretty seriously. I got pretty good feedbck from my classes. The principal said that the students have asked for more of me, could I teach all of their classes? I teach half of the four hours of English they get in a week. I am completely blown away and humbled by this. This is definitely a long way from life in Manila, but I love what I am doing right now.

My aunt in the US calls me, keeps asking me, when are you going to go back to journalism? I have a few projects tilling in my head, and I feel completely guilty for not pushing through with them. It's the Catholic in me, I guess. She has this feeling that, like her, I have abandoned my dreams to take a menial job. But to be quite honest, I don't think that that life is for me. The stress of the profession is not conducive for raising a family, which is what I want to have someday. I don't miss having to drop everything that I was doing because something is happening in some other part of the city. I don't miss the parola journalism practiced in Manila.

Is it possible to think that you have one calling, and find yourself fulfilled in another?

Barcelona in Pictures/ Barcelona en Retratos

2008-02-18T21:33:00.003+01:00

San Jose de Montanyana Church. An ancestor of mine is supposedly buried there. No dice. I will get to the bottom of this!

Churros and Chocolate near the Picasso Museum. Yum.

For 19 euros a day, you can see all the sights in Barcelona at your own convenience.

Gaudi is a major architectural force in his day. I don't get it. Sorry, man.

Under construction. Please come back in 2022!

This was how high school felt like.

Barcelona at night.

Colon Tower at Las Ramblas, near our apartment.

Thomas: Not as drunk as last year!

This little piggy went to market...stupid pig.

Bubble artist's bubble at Parc Güell

The insect and the lizard.

Barcelona

2008-02-07T19:57:00.000+01:00

I remember reading Heidelbergerin's post on Dresden, and how she fell in love with a city.

Well, I've fallen in love too. My city's name is Barcelona! I love it because the city seemed so alive and electric, gritty and beautiful. Where Manila is a deranged woman, Barcelona is her passionate, tempetuous sister. She has her rough parts, but her beautiful parts are fantastic! Manila, look at Barcelona. This is the city you should have been. It makes me weep thinking about how we have destroyed my hometown.

The best New Year's party I've been to was in the year 2000, when 700 partygoers turned the middle of Paseo de Roxas and Ayala Avenue into a dance floor till 7 am. This party comes quite close! Don't you just love marching bands?

I like the city so much that I'm planning to move there! I'm subletting my apartment here in Erfurt for three months to teach English while learning Spanish in Barcelona. Oh, how I love the flexibility of freelancing! Barcelona, here I come!