Second Chances in One Lifetime

in time of daffodils | goodbye, eindhoven

2011-11-18T06:17:00.000+01:00

in time of daffodils (who know

the goal of living is to grow)

forgetting why, remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim

the aim of waking is to dream,

remember so (forgetting seem)

in time of roses (who amaze

our now and here with paradise)

forgetting if, remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond

whatever mind may comprehend,

remember seek (forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be

(when time from time shall set us free)

forgetting me, remember me

-e.e. cummings

and so a year in eindhoven has passed.
bittersweet, but still,
i am thankful for the memories.
thank you, eindhoven. remember me.
[genneper parken, eindhoven, the netherlands]

parlez-vous francais?

2010-04-15T23:16:00.000+02:00

My colleagues complain that I hardly ever speak in French, apart from "Oui!" and "Non!" and "Je ne comprends pas!" So today, in an effort to humor them, I walked to my desk and greeted Jean-Pierre in the most bibo voice I could muster:

"Salut! Ca va? Je m'appelle Sheila!" (Hello! How are you? I am Sheila!)

Jean-Pierre stops in his tracks, raises his eyebrows at me, and is already laughing when he replies: "Salut Sheila! D'ou viens tu?" (Hello Sheila! Where are you from?)

Encouraged, I try to crack a joke with my newfound French vocabulary. "Je viens de... how do you say 'heaven' in French?"

"Paradis?"

"Je viens de Paradis!" I exclaim proudly. What I meant to say, of course, is that I had come down from heaven to grace him with my angelic presence.

Jean-Pierre cracks up. "You just said you died and came back from the dead. Or, it could also mean that you died and went to heaven, but heaven sent you back because they didn't want you."

Fail.

the banana phone

2010-03-31T08:15:00.005+02:00

One of my fears, before I began my internship here in France, was that: a) I would be stuck with a bunch of middle-aged employees who talked about their houses, children, and mortgages; or b) be the only girl amidst male nuclear scientists and engineers who liked to discuss theoretical physics in their spare time.

In other words, that I would be bored shitless.

That was until I met my officemates. The conversations we have are so stupid it's hilarious.

Today, Jean-Pierre, the guy who sits across my desk in the office, walked into our room complaining that he had left his mobile phone at home.

ME: Oh? (hands the banana on my desk to him) You can use this instead! (I demonstrate and put the banana to my ear like a phone.)
JEAN-PIERRE: You think that's a phone?!?
ME: Yes, haven't you seen on the internet? (goes to Google and comes back with this picture) See?

JEAN-PIERRE (giving me a strange look): You're crazy.
ME (still searching on Google): Oh, this is even better! See? It's so famous on Google.

JEAN-PIERRE: You know, in France, when we see a banana we don't think of a telephone.
ME (pausing for a moment to register what he's saying): Oh.
JEAN-PIERRE (cracking up now): Yes, you will see! Google "banane" and see what comes up! Come on, try it!
ME: No, I don't want!

At this point Jean-Pierre starts laughing like a madman.

Suddenly we hear a muffled voice coming through the walls. It's Samuel, the guy from the room next door, yelling, JEAAAAN-PIEEEEERRRE! What are you doing to She-la?

JEAN-PIERRE (stops laughing and puts a deadpan face on): He's jealous.

Hahaha. I'm gonna miss these guys when my internship ends.

PS. If you are one of the losers who have never heard of a banana phone, watch this. It's from the pre-YouTube era, one of the most annoyingly LSS-inducing songs ever. ;) Ring ring ring ring banana phoooooone....

melancholy

2010-01-01T16:54:00.002+01:00

the blue moon shining on new year's eve
[tilburg, the netherlands]

They say that things just cannot grow
Beneath the winter snow
Or so I have been told.

They say it's bad to start the new year on a sad note.

They say the new year brings with it another chance to start over.

They say you should welcome change, because with it comes growth.

They say many things. You think that perhaps, with all this imparted wisdom, you would be all the wiser when life happens to you. You think you will be smarter. You think you will be stronger. But when it finally happens, none of the things you've heard matter.

It's still difficult.

It hurts just as bad.

I still believe in summer days
The seasons always change
And life will find a way.
- Winter Song, Sara Bareilles & Ingrid Michaelson

happy holidays from tilburg

2009-12-25T13:46:00.001+01:00

This time of year the church bells ring
And carolers on corners, sing
Of gifts of love and peace and cheer
And a happy, prosperous New Year.

As Christmas Day ends, I wanted to send you my warmest wishes from Tilburg -- I wish that the feeling of love, peace, and joy that envelops this season remain with you throughout the new year.

As for me, I spent the past two days visiting the Christmas Markets in Cologne, Germany, where I stuffed myself silly trying all the local dishes: wurst grilled over charcoal, reibekuchen (potato cakes) served with applesauce, dampfnudels topped with vanilla sauce and berries, mugs of glühwein (mulled red wine), leberkäse served a fried egg and potatoes, schweinshaxe (pork knuckles) with sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, glasses of Kölsch (a local beer brewed in Cologne), and a lot of other dishes whose names I can't even recall. I think I gained ten pounds in two days! :) On Christmas Eve, I had a lovely dinner with friends in a little restaurant on the banks of the Rhine and capped it with a midnight mass at the Kölner Dom.

Now, I'm having myself a merry little white Christmas here in Tilburg, The Netherlands, where I'm doing a semester of my masters programme. (The picture above is one I took of Heuvelstraat, Tilburg’s main shopping street.) It's my first Christmas away from family, but I have discovered it is possible to be miles away from home and yet still feel the warmth of home. I feel truly thankful that I am blessed and loved. :)

Thanks for being a part of my 2009, and all the best in 2010!

in the wee small hours of the morning

2009-11-28T19:42:00.000+01:00

It's two in the morning, and here I am writing in a small room in the south of the Netherlands.

It feels strange to write that. I live in the Netherlands. Sometimes I feel like I have to pinch myself just to make sure that this -- the past one and a half year -- is not a dream.

My third semester here in Europe has almost come and gone. In a month, I will be packing up my things again for my next destination -- time to wrap up everything I've learned, do an internship, write a thesis, and get that Masters degree under my belt. Where do I go next? I don't know. I guess I should worry, but right now, none of that matters.

I just know I am thankful.

My journey across Europe -- fifteen months, three countries -- has been a whirlwind of new faces, places, and discoveries. I am thankful that throughout this journey, I have had my friends and family by my side, and a multitude of strength from God to surpass any difficulties. I am thankful to have been given the abundance of blessings to have lived the life I have lived until now.

I am truly lucky and blessed.

There is much more to come, but I already know my life has been a complete and utter success.

No regrets.

goodbye

2009-10-28T19:35:00.001+01:00

in my dreams i'm dying all the time
as i wake its kaleidoscopic mind
i never meant to hurt you
i never meant to lie
so this is goodbye
this is goodbye.
-porcelain, moby

3am at firenze's stazione di santa maria novella
[florence, italy]

4am

2009-07-15T22:00:00.005+02:00

There is something about that time of night, that time when a peaceful calm hangs over a city, that time after everyone has finally drifted home from the bars and the clubs, that time before the early birds begin to stir and start another day.

That time when everything lies still.

Nothing can happen. Everything can happen.

And no matter how people always think it's crazy, I often find myself in these nocturnal wanderings. I always think that perhaps, when the world has come to a standstill, I finally may be able to grasp the mystery of life.

I never do.

Tomorrow will come another time, another stillness.

Perhaps then.

*****

It started in Toronto: my habit of wandering around in the middle of the night, while the world sleeps.

Seeing this awoke a sense of nostalgia in me.

It's been three years, today, since that trip ended. I remember how shattered I was then, how I felt that everything good had ended and the world would come to an end. I thought then, with all my youthful dramatics, that I had lost Toronto forever, and I couldn't come back.

Yet, three years later, these streets look exactly how I left them.

Suddenly I realized, that I will never lose Toronto. Or Aix-en-Provence, or Turku, or any other place I have lived in for that matter. These places will always be there. I'm the one who has to move on. I have to grow up and become a different person.

I have to grow into the person I am supposed to be.

*****

Three years ago, I asked myself why good things had to end, why I had to leave.

I understand now.

be here now

2009-05-12T01:52:00.003+02:00

don't let your soul get lonely, child
it's only time, it will go by
don't look for love in faces, places
it's in you, that's where you'll find kindness
-be here now, ray lamontagne

i turned 27 today.
[stockholm, sweden]

how to eat in finland

2009-04-23T22:45:00.004+02:00

When I first arrived in Finland, I found the food appalling.

Meals tasted like they had come from mass-production lines. Fruits and vegetables tasted like cardboard. Fresh meat was nowhere to be found in supermarkets -- everything was either cured, processed, marinated, or ground into mystery meat and resurrected as cold cuts and sausages.

My initial theory was that Finland, being on the edge of the earth, was so far away that fruits, vegetables, and meats aged and died before they could finish their journey to Finland. And, once they get here, they are cryogenically frozen by the Finnish weather.

The secret was to eat like a local.

Having come Aix-en-Provence and its lovely Mediterranean climate, I was expecting the fruits and vegetables I had in France to taste the same in Finland. That, of course, was a stupid assumption.

I have since learned to buy only produce in season at the kauppatori, and have grown fond of some local favorites, like Aura blue cheese (named after the River Aura in Turku), Fazer chocolates, and the wide array of Finnish breads. Finnish bread, in contrast to the crusty & airy ones sold in France, are hearty and grainy, perhaps to help keep you warm in the harsh Finnish climate. Hardly a day passes now that I don't have some bread -- whether its crumbly blue cheese on warm monivilja viipaleet (a soft, chewy multigrained bread) for breakfast; a generous layer of onions, peppers, lettuce, and roast pork on a ruispalat (a coarse, dark rye bread); or large chunks of sunflower seed bread slathered with butter from our bread station at the school cafeteria.

I still have to get used to salmiakki and lakritsi, though. :)

encore provence

2009-04-04T23:46:00.004+02:00

"Memory is a notoriously biased and sentimental editor, selecting what it wants to keep
and invariably making a few cosmetic changes to past events. With rose-coloured hindsight,
the good times become magical; the bad times fade and eventually disappear,
leaving only a seductive blur of sunlit days and the laughter of friends."
- Encore Provence, Peter Mayle

Was it real?

Sometimes I have to ask myself that, when I think of the time I spent in Provence.

I look at photographs I have, and I am hit by a staggering realization of how beautiful it was. I cannot believe that I lived there -- walked those weathered streets, laughed, loved, cried there.

Provence feeds the soul. It's like one of those melodies that haunt you -- even when you think you have forgotten about it, it creeps up on you and surprises you with a memory so vivid, so potent, that it feels like an oddly enchanting dream.

And the memory keeps playing again and again, forward, in reverse, in mometary pauses, until it overwhelms everything else and only the music remains.

you don't bring me flowers

2009-02-27T10:17:00.004+01:00

you don't say you need me
you don't sing me love songs
you don't bring me flowers anymore

[turku, finland]

a break from studying

2009-02-15T19:50:00.000+01:00

gingerbread cookies, anyone?

the house that second-hand shops built

2009-02-13T16:35:00.009+01:00

Today, I placed the finishing touch on my room - a 5-euro rug I bought from UFF.

It's hard decorating your room when you're on a student budget, especially when you know you'll be moving out in four months. Luckily, the Finnish -- never one to let anything go to waste -- have it all figured out. For roughly a hundred euros, I was able to deck out my room quite comfortably, with rentals from TYS and the Student Union (some furniture + a starting package of curtains, a duvet, a pillow, & some kitchenware), things scrounged from second-hand shops (a mattress, a rug & a drying line) and an assortment of items from the dirt-cheap IKEA. (A full-sized pillow for 95 cents? Outrageous!) Probably the most expensive thing I bought was a new heater, and that was only after I shivered in my room for a week and finally decided I couldn't wait until a heater turned up at the second-hand store. Hehe. Leave it to me to splurge on shoes but scrimp on things like that.

I live in a student housing complex in Halinen called Haliskylä, where I share a three-bedroom apartment with Johanna, a Swedish-speaking Finn, and Katri from Estonia. Student housing in Finland is excellent, a far cry from the French nightmare called Residence de Cuques. Everything is convenient and well-planned -- the Halinen landscape is almost rural with a forest and Halistenkoski rapids nearby, yet there is a commercial complex across the street and school is a 10-minute bus ride away.

glugging some glögi

2009-02-13T16:12:00.009+01:00

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow, and here I am sipping a giant cup of warm glögi.

Glögi (also called glögg or gløgg in other Nordic languages) is a mulled wine that's normally served during the holiday season here in Scandinavia. It's made from spices such as cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, sugar or molasses, and mixed with red wine, vodka or brandy. It's then heated and served warm with raisins, almond slivers, and gingerbread cookies. Now, imagine yourself sipping that cup in front of a fireplace in the winter wonderland called Finland...

I know Christmas is two months gone, but Valentines is a holiday too, no? It's red, so glögi still counts as part of my Valentines Day celebrations. Besides, being a poor student like me, now is the perfect time to get addicted to glögi because supermarkets are selling off their remaining stocks for one euro! (Thanks to my "official" Finnish friend, Annika, for the tip!)

Happy Valentines Day to you all, wherever in the world you may be!

manilla

2009-02-09T17:24:00.003+01:00

It's not every day that something reminds me of home. So when something, no matter how small, comes to me, I grasp at it.

I am thankful that even here, halfway around the world, I know there is still a place called home.

the old manilla factory,
which is now a center for arts and culture
[turku, finland]

did you know...

2009-02-09T08:15:00.001+01:00

...that there's a walk of fame somewhere in turku?

it's buried under the snow most of the time, but it's there, somewhere along linnankatu.
(thanks to ansku for pointing them out to me!)

aurakatu

2009-02-08T19:17:00.008+01:00

could it be the world's gone colder?
maybe, i'm a losing soul
the more i try it just gets harder
and my pain is getting old
- The Rain Don't Last, Hope

another snowy night on aurakatu
[turku, finland]

how do you dress for -40 degree weather?

2009-02-06T19:25:00.006+01:00

I've just signed up for a student tour to Lappi, or the Finnish Lapland. For the uninitiated, it's the vast wilderness in northern Finland above the Arctic Circle.

I get to cross the Arctic Circle -- how cool is that? Or rather, how cold is that?

-40 degrees Celsius, apparently.

Freezing to death and roughing it up in a cabin in the woods with ten strangers is not exactly my idea of fun, but then again, the trip promises a chance to visit a snow castle, go ice fishing, build an igloo, go reindeer sledding, and maybe even see the Northern Lights. It's an opportunity I just couldn't miss.

But somehow this still feels a bit too Survivor-ish for me.

I'll tell you all about it when I come back a popsicle. :/

*Winter dressing instructions taken from www.visitfinland.com

runeberg tortes

2009-02-05T18:48:00.007+01:00

February 5 marks Runeberg Day in Finland, the birthday of their national poet J.L. Runeberg. This also means runeberg tortes season -- named after the poet, of course, and his favorite pastry.

Here's some runeberg tortes from Aschan, a bakery here in Turku.

kaksikymmentaviisi

2009-02-02T20:35:00.001+01:00

That's Finnish for 25.

And here are 25 random things about me, cross-posted from my Facebook account -- because I am one of those self-involved types who absolutely loved doing this. Enjoy!

25 Random Things About Sheila

For most of my life, I had short hair in an afro, just because I couldnt be bothered to comb my hair.
I need 12 hours of sleep. Anything less than that and I am a zombie.
I am the quietest ~~person~~ girl in my family. (Changed that since my sister says my dad is the quietest one.)
I was once asked out by a waiter.
I was once asked out by a grocer.
I was once stalked by a bellboy.
I was once mistaken for a hooker.
Which leads me to conclude... I am very attractive to men in the service industry.
I do not watch/listen/read the news. I didn't even know about the US elections until someone told me. I recently installed the CNN ticker in the hopes of being more informed, but so far I only know about stupid things like this goat being held in a jail in Nigeria for trying to steal a car, and that cows can produce more milk if you give them a name. Teehee.
I am always mistaken for a Latina. Case in point: In Paris, a street vendor chased after me shouting: "Mexican lady! Mexican laaaaddddyyyy!!!!"
I cannot go more than one hour without peeing.
I have a built-in hot girl sensor. I always check out hot girls.
I have swum in a pool filled with old naked women....
... and got scolded for having my clothes on.
I cannot sleep without taking a shower first.
I saw Enchanted being shot in Central Park, and thought "Which idiots would want to watch a B-movie like this?!!?" I watched the movie. McDreamy is hot.
I can go for days without leaving my room. I am very good at keeping myself entertained, even when I actually have nothing to do.
Someone once told me that I can be very funny, except I was sad most of the time. That made me sad. Hahaha.
I cannot dance. I dread dancing more than going to the dentist.
I have a hole in my heart.
I used to be so shy, I was scared to order from waiters.
I believe I was haunted by an evil spirit that followed me home from Montreal. I had nightmares for a week.
I absolutely despise waking up early. When I was younger, my parents, our maids, our driver, our dog, etc., etc. had to drag me out of bed and shove me in the shower to make me go to school.
I hate it when other people sit on my bed. My bed is my sacred place!
I am looking for an internship this summer. If you can give me one or know anywhere I can do one, please let me know!

the winter checklist

2009-01-23T23:52:00.002+01:00

Contrary to popular misconception, winters in Turku aren't as cold as winters in other parts of Finland. The average temperature in January ranges from -10°C to 3°C, which, with the dry climate, often feels much warmer.

There is, however, a perennial mountain of snow. So, when in Finland, I do as anyone from a tropical country would do -- indulge myself shamelessly in the list of winter-y things to do!

perspective: 23 tammikuu 2009

2009-01-23T09:23:00.004+01:00

the gregorius IX:n tie bus stop, where I catch the bus from my house
[halinen, turku, finland]

great balls of fire!

2009-01-20T17:35:00.000+01:00

I bought the entire IKEA Swedish meatball making kit.

Yes, I mean everything -- from the meatballs to the gravy to mashed potato to the jar of lingonberry jam that's probably enough for fifty meatball meals. I'm easily victimized by marketing like that. I went there to buy some things for my room, and ended up with a bag full of IKEA food.

I can almost hear Florian's reaction in my head now: "Holy!" Florian says I do not cook anything except instant food. It's not that I don't have a choice -- I actually like cooking and am always willing to whip up a home-cooked meal. It's just that I am also one of those weird people who actually like instant food.

Anyway, back to the Swedish meatballs -- it's awesome. I can't tell the difference between a köttbullar and regular meatballs from around the world, but traditionally, the Swedish serve their meatballs with gravy, boiled (or mashed) potatoes, and lingonberry jam. Meatballs and jam -- sounds weird, right? Absolutely delicious!

I'm a convert.

I will never look at meatballs the same way again.

perspective: 19 tammikuu 2009

2009-01-19T14:26:00.000+01:00

the view from my bedroom window
[halinen, turku, finland]

why i always get lost in finland

2009-01-14T14:55:00.003+01:00

Because everything has such obscenely long names.

tuomiokirkkosilta bridge
[turku, finland]

underneath the snow

2009-01-14T14:51:00.001+01:00

The snow melts away after several days of above-zero temperature.
[turku, finland]

what does turku look like?

2009-01-13T14:55:00.002+01:00

Turku, having existed since 1229, holds the title of oldest city in Finland. When I say I'm from Turku, most people react with ooohs and aaahs, expecting to see medieval streets and buildings and castles.

So what does Turku look like? Surprisingly, it's quite modern. Turku burned down several times in the past, so there are hardly any remnants of its medieval past. Most of the buildings in Turku are actually quite new. There are the occasional brick buildings which were built in the late 1800s or early 1900s, but the rest are modern concrete blocks that were probably built from the 1950s onwards.

Come take a walk with me down one of the streets in downtown Turku:

turun kauppahalli

2009-01-13T14:37:00.000+01:00

Turku has a kauppatori (market square) and a kauppahalli (market hall) where you can buy meat, fish, fresh produce, and other local specialties. Having had a thing for markets since falling in love with Toronto's Kensington Market a couple of years ago, I found myself searching for the Turun Kauppahalli as soon as I could.

The Turun Kauppahalli (Turku Market Hall) is housed in a red brick building that dates back to 1896. According to Turku Tourism, there is only one shop (that used to sell seal fat) remaining that has operated throughout the lifetime of the kauppahalli. Nowadays, there is a wide assortment of businesses: bakeries, butchers, ethnic food stalls, souvenir shops, and restaurants. My favorites are the kauppamuseo which shows a typical shop from the old days, and the Aschan cafe housed in a converted train carriage.

*Turun Kauppahalli is located on Eerikinkatu 16, Turku, Finland.

signs

2009-01-09T15:20:00.004+01:00

I totally love this short film from the Schweppes Short Film Festival...

I'm terrified, though, that my life is going to be like this once I start working here in Europe...

perspective: 5 tammikuu 2009

2009-01-05T17:54:00.011+01:00

There are so many pictures I have taken, so many things I want to write about.

But I don't have time.

A chat with Christian provided the answer: "Why don't you do a photoblog? Spend 10 minutes a day. Post a picture. Write one line. Done."

Brilliant idea.

And so, here goes the first of a series.

*Tammikuu is Finnish for January.

my first finnish word: kiitos (thank you)
[taken in a hesburger in halinen, turku, finland]

thoughts over a hamburger

2009-01-05T17:00:00.007+01:00

A realization: living in France finally rid me of my fast-food addiction. For someone who used to eat burgers almost daily, I went four months straight in France without craving for a burger. I guess its because there are hardly any fastfood chains in France (or in Aix-en-Provence, at least) -- which proves I'm a visual eater? Out of sight, out of mind!

Anyway, Hesburger is the largest hamburger chain in Finland, and it's based in here in Turku. It's quite rare to see McDonalds here, but there's a Hesburger in almost every corner.

Good thing I don't have the unbearable cravings for burgers I used to have!

tervetuloa

2009-01-04T17:09:00.003+01:00

That's welcome in Finnish.

Welcome to the land of a thousand lakes, reindeers, and the real Santa Claus -- Finland. Everything is covered in snow, it's surreal...

a snowy mist rises over halinen
[turku, finland]

a journey to another time

2008-12-30T14:47:00.006+01:00

“Vivamus mea Claudia”

Let us live and love not listening to old men's talk.
Suns will rise and set long after our little light has gone away to darkness.
Kiss me again and again.
Let me kiss you a hundred times,
a thousand more,
again a thousand without rest,
losing count,
so no one can speak of us and say they know the number
of our kisses.
-Gaius Valerius Catullus

a horse-drawn carriage in central park
[central park, new york]

l'aéroport

2008-12-21T11:30:00.010+01:00

the plane is on the move,
and the traces of the love we had in places
are turning in my mind
-airport, the motors

taking off from aéroport marseille provence
[marignane, france]

au revoir france

2008-12-21T09:10:00.004+01:00

I waited inside the bus at Gare Routiere, looking outside wistfully as the last leaves of autumn clung to Aix-en-Provence's trees.

Outside, a couple was saying goodbye to each other, with whispers and kisses and longing glances. The man must have said something funny, because at that moment they both laughed. But when their eyes met, I could see how scared they both were, how hard both of them were trying to be brave enough to say goodbye.

It could have been me. It was the exact feeling that I had-- the sorrow of leaving and knowing this was it. The yearning, the wishing that I had more time.

But the world will spin madly on, even when you feel like standing still.

The bus started and I watched as they said their final goodbye. As the man boarded the bus, he pressed his hand against the window, staring at the woman even as the bus pulled away.

The bus rounded the corner, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of La Rotonde, its waters glistening in the morning sun.

Then it was gone.

The man ran to the back of the bus, waving to his girlfriend as the bus passed her solitary figure on the street.

But soon she faded away, along with my last vision of Aix-en-Provence. All that was left was the sound of the man crying softly to himself.

That was when I started to cry, too.

l'automne

2008-11-21T23:56:00.004+01:00

autumn leaves under frozen soles
hungry hands turning soft and old
my hero cried as we stood out there in the cold
like these autumn leaves i don't have nothing to hold
- autumn, paolo nutini

autumn leaves blanket cours mirabeau, the main street of aix-en-provence
[aix-en-provence, france]

holding on & letting go

2008-11-08T13:37:00.004+01:00

and maybe you wake up late at night,
wondering why you feel so tired.
well my dear, let me tell you now,
do you hear?
its only fear, its only fear,
its only fear...
that keeps you locked in here.
- it's only fear, alexi murdoch

padlocks on the pont des arts bridge
[paris, france]

rue de la glaciere

2008-11-02T01:59:00.006+01:00

sleep again won’t come to me
i walk outside, the galaxies
and stars surround the whole world like a dome
i’m still alone
and i’m feeling like i’m a long, long way from home
- long way from home, jesse harris

taken while i was sitting on a random doorway, 2am, rue de la glaciere
[aix-en-provence, france]

mystery

2008-10-21T14:28:00.017+02:00

i know you've given all that you could give to me
i know there'll come a day i understand
until then, i'll be trying to solve your mystery
and wonder why i couldn't make you stay
-legendary, lou barlow

saint-tropez as seen from the ferry to saint-raphaël
[saint-tropez, cote d'azur, france]

la crêperie

2008-09-25T16:56:00.009+02:00

Ah, the French.

In the Philippines, when we think of street food, we think of fishballs, kwek-kwek, isaw, adidas, and other strange concoctions with funny-sounding names.

Of course, in France they have crêpes. Crêpes sucrées or crêpes salées, having a crêpe on a cobblestoned street in France sounds so much more sophisticated than saying you had fishballs sa kanto.

So anyway, it's way overdue, but here is my requisite eating-a-crêpe-in-France picture, on Cours Mirabeau, Aix-en-Provence's main street. The angry German behind me is my favorite dinner buddy, Flo (yes, Flo, you're my favorite!), who finally made me try a crêpe after one month of living in France.

Bon appétit!

comfort in your strangeness

2008-09-14T01:19:00.010+02:00

Today I found myself sitting alone in the middle of a park, under the shadow of pine trees and a full moon.

Alone.

But not lonely.

*****

It has been a month since I stepped foot in France. As surreal and wonderful as it sounds, the reality is the first weeks were hell for me. Unable to speak the language, I felt lost and alienated.

I was in France, but my heart was not.

I roamed the streets with empty eyes. I looked without really seeing. I heard things without really listening.

I could no longer see the magic in ordinary things.

I felt like I had lost myself all over again.

*****

The nights have become chillier.

Summer is almost over, and soon I will no longer be able to swim in the pool or spend my weekends by the beach. I find myself wrapping my jacket around me tighter, digging my hands deeper into my pockets.

Yet with the change in season, I find my spirits lifting.

The streets seem quieter, calmer. Somewhere within, I can feel myself more at peace.

It has been a month, yes. It has been a struggle, yes. But there are three more months to go. So much more to experience.

It's high time I start seeing the magic again.

*****

Bonjour France.

I'm finally here.

ma maison

2008-09-10T01:03:00.007+02:00

So, I moved... and of course, when you have a new place, you need to throw a dinner party!

our excuse: ethiopian new year!
(l-r) florian, nawaz, karun, gui xian, meseret, moi, and suds

More pictures of my apartment here.

the last day of summer

2008-08-31T22:08:00.000+02:00

...and my first view of the mediterranean sea!

the calanques at cassis

[cassis, france]

puyricard

2008-08-26T15:20:00.001+02:00

French class. The last rays of summer permeate our classroom. Everyone is clad in shorts and slippers and summer attire. Voices drift around the room as we introduce ourselves to each other in French.

I look outside the balcony of our classroom, and I see this:

Puyricard. Provence just as I imagined it would be.

I cannot believe I'm here.

pâtisserie-boulangerie

2008-08-24T16:07:00.004+02:00

The French are serious about their breads and pastries. If you want really good quality, you must get your pastries from a pâtisserie and your breads from a boulangerie. Most of the time, though, you'll find combined pâtisserie-boulangeries, which sell both breads and pastries but may not be as good -- but I'm not complaining!

Here's a typical sight inside a pâtisserie-boulangerie in Aix:

That's enough to make my mouth water!

residence de cuques

2008-08-23T22:59:00.002+02:00

I seriously wanted to like the rooms at Residence de Cuques.

I initially freaked out after seeing pictures of the dorm room online, but I figured -- hey, it's cheap (150 euros/month), convenient (it has wifi, a laundromat, and a government-subsidized cafeteria nearby), has a view of Aix-en-Provence, and is just a ten minute walk to the city center. I survived UP, I'm sure I can survive "dirty" by French standards.

Apparently not.

My room was much worse than I expected. The wallpapers are torn, the bed is mangy, the floors are cracked and stained with mud, and my room faces the back of a building.

Nice tour, eh? In fairness to the dorm, some of the rooms are actually okay. I think I was just given one of the worse rooms.

But that's bearable. I can live with the not-so-pretty and not-so-clean surroundings. I was even able to get rid of the smell of urine after a night of scrubbing my floors with soap. (Eeeewwww.) And I've met some great people on my floor.

I just really don't like sharing my bathroom with 35 other people. Men and women at that. Especially when the toilets look like the toilets in UP Palma Hall pre-renovation days (yung banyo pa ni Marcos!)

It's not so fun walking into the toilet and finding pubic hair and remnants of someone else's poop on the toilet bowl. Eeeeeeeeewwww. I feel like I need to take a shower every time I use the toilet.

So, I am moving to the Citadines Aix Jas de Bouffan. It's an apartment-hotel a ten-minute bus ride from the center, but...... with its own bathrooms! And a pool!

Woot!

Sidenote: Well, actually, I kind of got kicked out of the dorm. I went to the caisse to ask what I needed to do in case I wanted to move out of the dorm. Due to the freaking language barrier (they don't speak ANY English!!!!), they misunderstood me as saying I was sure I wanted to move out of the dorm and asked me to move out on August 31 because they're giving my room to someone else. My apartment is only available on September 1, so I'm homeless for a day. Merde!!!! I just hope they refund the 700 euros I've paid them! Wish me luck!

la rotonde

2008-08-20T14:40:00.000+02:00

la rotonde

[aix-en-provence, france]

le premier jour

2008-08-20T09:00:00.007+02:00

Residence de Cuques. I knock on Nastya, my Russian classmate's dorm room, to head over to Residence de Gazelles next door to meet the rest of our classmates. Outside, the air smells faintly of pine, and as we stroll down the street we are greeted by an amazing view of Mont Saint-Victoire towering over the town of Aix-en-Provence.

Residence de Gazelles. Initial introductions done, my classmates and I start walking down Avenue Jules Ferry to catch the bus to school. My laziness overwhelms, so I convince Florian, a German classmate I had previously met in Manila, to catch the Mini 2 bus with me to the center. It was faster all right, but we got lost once we got to the center, so the rest of our classmates eventually caught up with us. So much for speed.

La Rotonde. After a long wait and a flurry of confusion figuring out where the stop for Bus 21 was, our bus finally pulls up. I hop on the bus.

"Is this the bus for IAE?"

The driver stares blankly at me. I realize he doesn't speak English. "Eee aah ooh?" he asks.

"I... A.... E....?" I repeat more slowly.

"Oui, oui. Eeee aaah ooh!"

Erm. I guess they pronounce IAE differently here. We get on anyway and after 30 minutes of twists and turns through empty streets, the bus driver lets us off at a blue gate with the name of the school printed in large white letters.

And there it is.

Institut d'Administration des Entreprises d'Aix-en-Provence, my school for the next few months.

transit

2008-08-19T23:28:00.004+02:00

8pm. Amsterdam. It was at the Amsterdam Schipol airport that I began to feel the first twinge of panic. I stood in line at the gate, backpack and giant duffel bag in tow, listening to the chatter of people around me.

None were in English.

I searched around for any semblance of home, or even just one of Asia. I needed to see just one person, one single Asian, to keep the panic down and reassure myself that I could do this. That home was not so far away.

But there were none.

That was when it hit me that I was really no longer in the Philippines.

This was the end of my life as I knew it.

*****

11pm. Marseille. The Marseille airport was deserted except for the passengers from our flight. I trailed over to the information desk to get some brochures about the city.

None were in English.

*****

"Parlez-vous anglais?" I ask the taxi driver as Xian, my Malaysian classmate, and I queue at the taxi stand.

"Non."

I whip out a sheet of paper and show him the address of my dorm. He points to the next taxi, indicating that the next taxi would take us to Aix-en-Provence.

I turn to the second taxi driver. "Parlez-vous anglais?"

"A little."

Thank God.

*****

12am. Aix-en-Provence. Angel #1. The taxi pulls over onto to a gated driveway. "This is Residence de Cuques. The gates are locked. The taxi can only go up to here."

"This is it?" I peer through the gates, but only see a dimly lit street and a deserted building. There is no sign of a dorm. "But where is Batiment 2?"

The taxi driver reads my arrival instructions sympathetically. "You want I go with you to find the building?"

I heave a sigh of relief. "Yes, please."

He steps out of the taxi, carrying my luggage for me. We walk down the street, looking at each building until we finally find Pavillon 2 at the end of the street. We ring the doorbell. The night watchman appears from behind the glass doors and opens it for us.

"Sheila?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Welcome."

*****

Angel #2. The night watchman gives me my room number and keys in broken English. "Your room is through those stairs. Wait for me. I will help you bring your things up."

I heave another sigh of relief.

*****

12:30am. Residence de Cuques. I am breathing heavily by the time we reach the fourth floor. A group of men and women are clustered in one doorway, chattering in French.

My room is at the end of the hall. I turn the key and the door swings open. I am greeted by a tiny room with torn wallpaper and the sour smell of dried urine. The floors are dusty and caked with mud.

"Welcome!" the night watchman repeats enthusiastically as he sets my luggage on the floor. "This is your room, I'll leave you alone now. Good night!"

And finally I sink down on the gray mattress and let the homesickness come.

one last taste of luxury

2008-08-19T03:31:00.002+02:00

and then it's back to being a poor, hungry student again...
siiiiiiigh, i'll miss business trips!
[manila, philippines]

tick-tock

2008-08-18T19:34:00.012+02:00

I'm scared.

In a few hours, my family will be driving me to the airport for my flight to France. I won't be seeing them again for two years.

You see, I received a two-year Erasmus Mundus grant to study my masters degree in France, Finland, and the Netherlands. It's amazing, I know. I always dreamed of travelling to Europe, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to actually have the opportunity to live there.

I expected myself to be jumping with glee and raring to go on my next big adventure.

But right now, all I feel like doing is curling up into a fetal position and willing the hands of my clock to start turning counter-clockwise. I can almost feel my regrets spilling out onto my pillow. I wish I had done this. I wish I had done that. I wish I had spent more time with my loved ones. I wish I had lived life instead of just letting the days pass by.

It's ironic how two years ago, I felt exactly like this. Except that time, I didn't want to go back to Manila.

This time, I don't want to leave.

The fear is still there, gnawing quietly in the back of my mind. I've managed to keep it at bay for the past few days, but I can feel time racing by. Soon, goodbye has to come. I'm terrified that the moment I step into the passengers-only area at the airport, the fear will overwhelm me and I'm going to start crying uncontrollably.

Things will change again, just when I thought I was finally getting back on track.

I'm not ready.

But it's time.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed
by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.
So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor.
Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
- Mark Twain

i found the one

2008-07-04T16:42:00.005+02:00

I was choosing between the Toshiba M800 and the HP TX2000 tablet, but I wasn't too sure how long the TX2000's hinge would survive (I broke my last 2 laptop's hinges!) and the M800 ended up being too expensive. Then I found the one...

I'm not a techie geek -- I usually choose electronics based on how yabang they look (heehee) -- but the HP Pavilion DV3000's specs are pretty good, too! Now the only thing missing is for HP to release this outside Asia, so that I get international warranty for this laptop, too!

still the proud owner of a pair of tonsils

2008-06-25T18:44:00.009+02:00

After spending last night psyching myself for my surgery, I woke up today all pepped up for my tonsillectomy. However, a chain of unexpected events unfolded which eventually ended up with me postponing the operation.

A couple of hours before I was due in the hospital, my doctor's nurse called me. Apparently, my doctor wanted to use his own set of tools for the surgery, so I needed to pay PhP27,000 for the rental of his equiment because my health insurance would not cover it.

I know, I know. It's bad to scrimp when it comes to your health, and I honestly would have paid the cash up front -- but the thing is, last week, when I talked to my doctor about the costs of the surgery and verified with Philamcare that it would be covered, my doctor failed to mention anything about preferring to use his own equipment.

And he was asking me to cough up PhP27,000 on the day I'm supposed to be admitted to the hospital? I thought it was kind of fishy.

I asked the nurse what exactly this equipment was, and her answer was, "Naku, di ko rin po alam yun e, basta pinapasabi lang ni doc kailangan yun daw ang gamitin."

"Well, can I talk to doc so I can get the name?"

"May laryngitis po siya ngayon e, hindi siya makakausap."

Great. So apart for billing me for some mystery equipment, my doctor is also planning to operate on me while he has laryngitis.

Hell, no.

A couple of phone calls later, Philamcare informed me that tonsillectomies are normally fully covered, unless my doctor really insists on using his own equipment. (Kudos to the excellent customer service of Philamcare for giving me honest advice about my situation!) In fairness to my doctor, he really was using some high-tech machine that the hospital did not have, which I personally would also have preferred to use. However, it looks like St. Luke's also has the same machine and is only charging just a fraction of what my doctor was charging me.

Since my surgery was elective, I decided to postpone my operation until I had more time to think about it.

Maybe this was also the sign from God that I had been too hasty about having a tonsillectomy. (I've gone to 5 doctors so far, all of whom have had different opinions about what was causing my symptoms. This was doctor #5 and I was pretty tired of going to doctors at that point, so I just decided to go ahead with the tonsillectomy if that would solve the problem.)

The whole experience did leave a sour tase in my mouth, though, so I'm probably back on the market for a new ENT again.

And yes, I am still the proud owner of a pair of tonsils!

tonsillectomy thursday

2008-06-24T17:15:00.006+02:00

They'll be taking out my tonsils on Thursday.

When the doctor proposed a tonsillectomy to get rid of my jelly-bean-shaped tonsil, I wasn't too concerned. After all, Jessica Wakefield had it in Sweet Valley Kids and she was able to eat ice cream right after!

I made the mistake of researching about adult tonsillectomies on the internet, though, and now I'm absolutely terrified. Apparently, having a tonsillectomy when you're an adult is waaaaaay more painful than having one as a child -- something to do about your tonsils being more welded to the rest of your body when you're older.

Reading first hand accounts of those who've had tonsillectomies freaked me out further:

"I thought I would be okay since I've already given birth twice, but this was worse than childbirth!"
"It hurts. All that you will read is true. It hurts like absolute hell. And…it is going to hurt like hell for a couple of weeks. Swallowing anything is a true challenge. It feels as if you swallowed a jar of tacks, nails and shards of glass. This does not abate."
And the best one: "You will want to die."

Gulp.

I am seriously, seriously terrified. This is my first surgery, so I don't even know how well my body will react to the anesthesia, bleeding, and the other stuff they do to you during surgery. I pray I'm not one of those 5 out of 100 people who get complications from tonsillectomies.

Tomorrow, I'll be admitted into the hospital for pre-op. It's my last chance to back-out. Do I live with my constant hairball-in-the-throat feeling, or should I go through with the surgery?

Please pray for me.

goodbye, fugly silver canon!

2008-05-27T23:08:00.006+02:00

Hello, roaring red Sony Cybershot DSC-W150!

and equally kikay DigiPod! ;)

Thank you, Cheng, for the awesome birthday gift, and thank you, Tsak, for delivering this all the way from Indiana!

what does my handwriting say about me?

2008-05-01T14:15:00.016+02:00

I got this off Chasky's blog, and it's amazing how it hit some aspects of my personality right on the spot. I did a handwriting analysis here some years back, but my handwriting has changed quite a bit since then. I used to be this obsessive-compulsive notetaker back in college (think color-coded pens), but now all my notebooks are filled with hasty scribblings, underlines, circles, and arrows all over the page, written using the nearest pen I can grab.

Is it a sign of me growing up, or just a side-effect of my harried lifestyle?

Sheila uses judgment to make decisions. She is ruled by her head, not her heart. She is a cool, collected person who is usually unexpressive emotionally. Some may see her as unemotional. She does have emotions but has no need to express them. She is withdrawn into herself and enjoys being alone.

The circumstances when Sheila does express emotions include: extreme anger, extreme passion, and tremendous stress. If someone gets her mad enough to tell her off, she will not be sorry about it later. She puts a mark in her mind when someone angers her. She keeps track of these marks and when she hits that last mark she will let them know they have gone too far. She is ruled somewhat by self-interest. All her conclusions are made without outside emotional influence. She is very level-headed and will remain calm in an emergency situation. In a situation where other people might get hysterical, she has poise.

Sheila will work more efficiently if given space and time to be alone. She would rather not be surrounded by people constantly. In a relationship, she will show her love by the things she does rather than by the things she says. Saying "I love you" is not a needed routine because she feels her mate should already know. The only exception to this is if she has logically concluded that it is best for her mate to hear her express her love verbally.

Sheila is not subject to emotional appeals. If someone is selling a product to her, they will need to present only the facts. They should present them from a standpoint of her sound judgment. She will not be taken in by an emotional story about someone else. She will meet emergencies without getting hysterical and she will always ask "Is this best for me?"

People that write their letters in an average height and average size are moderate in their ability to interact socially. According to the data input, Sheila doesn't write too large or too small, indicating a balanced ability to be social and interact with others.

Sheila will demand respect and will expect others to treat her with honor and dignity. Sheila believes in her ideas and will expect other people to also respect them. She has a lot of pride.

Sheila is secretive. She has secrets which she does not wish to share with others. She intentionally conceals things about herself. She has a private side that she intends to keep that way, especially concerning certain events in her past.

In reference to Sheila's mental abilities, she has a very investigating and creating mind. She investigates projects rapidly because she is curious about many things. She gets involved in many projects that seem good at the beginning, but she soon must slow down and look at all the angles. She probably gets too many things going at once. When Sheila slows down, then she becomes more creative than before. Since it takes time to be creative, she must slow down to do it. She then decides what projects she has time to finish. Thus she finishes at a slower pace than when she started the project.

She has the best of two kinds of minds. One is the quick investigating mind. The other is the creative mind. Her mind thinks quick and rapidly in the investigative mode. She can learn quicker, investigate more, and think faster. Sheila can then switch into her low gear. When she is in the slower mode, she can be creative, remember longer and stack facts in a logical manner. She is more logical this way and can climb mental mountains with a much better grip.

Sheila is a practical person whose goals are planned, practical, and down to earth. This is typical of people with normal healthy self-esteem. She needs to visualize the end of a project before she starts. she finds joy in anticipation and planning. Notice that I said she plans everything she is going to do, that doesn't necessarily mean things go as planned. Sheila basically feels good about herself. She has a positive self-esteem which contributes to her success. She feels she has the ability to achieve anything she sets her mind to. However, she sets her goals using practicality-- not too "out of reach". She has enough self-confidence to leave a bad situation, yet, she will not take great risks, as they relate to her goals. A good esteem is one key to a happy life. Although there is room for improvement in the confidence catagery, her self-perception is better than average.

Sheila is sarcastic. This is a defense mechanism designed to protect her ego when she feels hurt. She pokes people harder than she gets poked. These sarcastic remarks can be very funny. They can also be harsh, bitter, and caustic at the same time.

Sheila has difficulty trusting anyone. In fact, she trusts no one completely. This is a result of her trust being betrayed in the past. She has closed up, thus ceasing to allow close friendships. Sheila truly wants close friends and desires physical relationships, but she fears she will get hurt, again. She is lonely, yet has a crying need for close friends. This trait can cause much unhappiness. However, it can be changed.

Sheila is selective when picking friends. She does not trust everyone. She has a select group of people that are truly close to her, usually two or three. She is careful when choosing her inner circle of friends.

For a graphologist, the spacing on the page reflects the writer's attitude toward their own world and relationship to things in his or her own space. If the inputted data was correct Sheila has left lots of white space on the all four borders of the paper. Sheila fills up just the center area of the page. If this is true, then Sheila has a particular shyness toward people and a fear of moving too fast in any direction. In some cultures, respecting people, rules, and adhering to protocol are ways of life.

The right side of the page represents the future and the left side represents the past. Sheila seems a bit stuck in the middle, afraid to take action.

Sheila seems to have a fear of looking bad or of crossing boundries. It will be easy to work with Sheila on a team, because Sheila will usually follow the rules. However, this desire to respect the boundries can often be construed as a lack of confidence and people will walk over Sheila if she is not careful.

Source: The Handwriting Wizard

wanderlust

2008-04-22T18:12:00.009+02:00

So, late last November, I stumbled onto this video.

This film is dedicated to those who love to travel, those who have never traveled, and those about to travel for the very first time.

It's an ad for Contiki, but there was something in that phrase that had my wanderlust knocking.

So, I decided that this year, I'll finally tour Europe. (This year marks my fifth year working, so I figured it's high time I rewarded myself for all that hard work!)

Join me?

so, what have you been up to?

2008-04-05T20:01:00.014+02:00

We are so obsessed with doing that we have no time
and no imagination left for being. -Thomas Merton

"So, what have you been up to?"

It's a common conversation starter, but it's one that always leaves me stumped whenever I try to answer it. Not that I haven't been up to anything -- it's more like I'm not sure whether anything I've done is worth sharing with other people.

Or maybe I just take small talk too seriously.

But, I haven't blogged much over the past year, so I figure maybe I'd be able to come up with something slightly interesting from a year's worth of experiences.

Let's see.

I started over by moving to a new team at work. Spent two days in an airplane to attend a three-day meeting in the UK. Lugged home a giant bag of stroopwafels and cheese from the Amsterdam airport. Rechristened myself as the Dual Maintenance Goddess at the office. Burned out. Got sick. Got better. Taught myself the art of looking like you know what you're talking about, when you're actually clueless as hell. Spent the summer learning how to do a proper freestyle, crawl, and backstroke... plus a not-so-proper butterfly. Sailed around Boracay. Discovered that nothing beats the calm of being in the middle of the sea, with no sound but the wind flapping against your sails. Got sick again. Got better again. Adopted two dogs, Goldie Woldie and Tagpi. Spent a week falling in love with the Japanese culture (and Kobe beef) in Kobe. Mastered the art of cooking something out of any ingredients on hand. Swung by Singapore and relived the Toronto and Montreal turista days with Iris. Lugged home an overweight maleta filled with shoes and Bee Cheng Hiang pork, beef, and chicken jerkies. Worked some more. Discovered a secret recipe for making fall-off-the-bone baby back ribs Swiss Chalet-style. Booked a long-overdue family outing to Bohol, bonding with my mom, dad, and sister over seashells, Chocolate Hills and tarsiers. Kayaked. Discovered the tranquility of lying down in a kayak in the middle of the sea, watching clouds roll by. Took on a project management role at work. Got my hair straightened, then accidentally had it cut to chin length. Fulfilled childhood dreams in Hong Kong Disneyland. Got carpal tunnel syndrome and started wearing a splint. Rekindled my relationship with God. Learned to appreciate the blessings I have and the people around me. Learned to take care of myself.

Fell in love.

Whew.

wala ka sa lola ko

2008-03-30T17:58:00.003+02:00

When I was young, I had all these children's books that depicted grandmothers as little old ladies with sweet little smiles and eyeglasses perched on the tips of their nose, carrying a basket of freshly baked cookies and knitting sweaters for their grandchildren.

I always thought I was losing out on something because my lola is nothing of that sort.

Now that I'm older, though, I've come to appreciate the fact that I have such a groovy grandmother. She's a not-so-little old lady with a sweet little smile, who calls J. Lo "Jello", has an addiction to Koreanovelas, has a crush on Marc Nelson, and encourages me to "collect and collect then select!" men.

She's been in the hospital for over a month now, bedridden due to complications with her recent surgery. Dreariness of the situation aside, visits to my lola always gives me a good laugh.

Last Sunday, my sister and I walked into her hospital room to find her talking to a nurse:

Lola: Sigurado ka ba diyan sa gamot ko? Baka mamaya masakit yan ha!
Nurse: Opo, Lola! Hindi masakit to, araw araw naman kita binibigyan nito e.
Lola: Sigurado ka ha, pag masakit yan sisipain kita!
Nurse: Okay lang, lola, basta po left leg yung gamitin niyo ha! (my lola can't move her left leg yet due to her surgery)
Lola: (thinks, then frowns) Ay ang daya mo!!!! (brandishes her fist) Susuntukin na lang kita! diyan e! When I get well... I will come back for you!

Yep, that's my grandma. Bedridden but still feisty as hell.

Now, you can't get 81-year-old lolas like that anywhere.

pop out the champagne!

2007-12-28T20:42:00.001+01:00

So... I thought I'd come back from hibernation to greet everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

I hope 2007 was as wonderful for you as it was for me. My year wasn't quite like anything I expected -- but in the end, it was everything I needed and more. I realize I just needed a good jolt to my belief systems to get me back on track to achieving the goals that really matter to me.

2008 is just around the corner, and it promises to be as eventful as this year was! Cheers to another wonderful year!

Be safe this new year, everyone!

missing the action

2007-11-29T22:48:00.007+01:00

On the front page of the International Herald Tribune on November 30, 2007:
Mutiny is quelled in Manila luxury hotel Filipino police officers taking cover behind an armored
personnel carrier that was used to crash upon the doors of a five-star hotel and end a mutiny.

I was in Japan when it happened.

I learned about it in the midst of our farewell dinner, while I was happily sampling glasses of champagne, sake, and green tea cheesecakes. I suppose I should have been scared or shocked, but instead I only found the news mildly amusing.

Strangely enough, the last time something like this happened in the Philippines, I had been in Toronto. I had turned on the telly to see tanks driving along Manila's streets, and soldiers walking around with machine guns. From that vantage point, Manila seemed like a terrifying place to live in.

I made a panicked call back home, only to find out that everything was normal. No one was rushing home, some people were even going out for dinner. Despite the fact that apparently tanks were patrolling the streets.

Oh, what being a Filipino can do to you.

Nothing will faze you anymore.

cold kobe nights

2007-11-26T20:24:00.001+01:00

surreal kobe at night
[meriken park, kobe, japan]

yellow light

2007-03-01T21:18:00.000+01:00

I miss time.

One of the things, perhaps, that made me so happy when I was living in Toronto was that I had time. Maybe it was the 9 to 5 schedule, or the late sunsets, but for a moment there, I had something I hadn't given myself in such a long while.

Time.

Nowadays I have fallen back into my normal routine. I wake up with puffy eyes complaining of lack of sleep, yet I'm ironically late for my entire day. I rush to work, downing a thermos of juice or a hastily-made sandwich with my right hand as my left haphazardly navigates my car throught the madness of traffic. On stoplights, I try to squeeze in a text message to someone at work, or prepare my parking fee so I can speed through the parking booth. I rush through the rest of my day, juggling Sametimes and meetings and emails and people who stop by my cube. I stop only for an hour to run the rest of my non-work errands and to gulp down the next meal I can catch. Most of my meals recently have been sushi because... well... I can eat it in six bites and get on with the rest of my day.

My life has become toxic, and it's out of control.

Because acceptance is the first step of recovery, I am writing that down here.

I know this lifestyle is bound to kill me -- not just because of the stress of always being in a hurry, but because I know it will make me miss out on the good things. I have always been the type of person who likes to live life slowly. I stop to watch sunsets, or to feel a breeze rippling through the air. I stay in my car long after I've parked to finish listening to a song I like. I eat my ice cream with my spoon facing downwards so I can taste the sweetness of the ice cream and feel the tingling coldness as it melts on my tongue. I take long walks so I can feel the sun warming my face, or the night wind calming my nerves. I sit on park benches for hours so I can watch everyone scurrying along while my time stands still.

Simple things, but countless moments of introspection have made me realize that it's these moments that make me happy.

I want to live my life in slow motion.

I need to live my life in slow motion, because that's what makes me feel grounded. I need to stop for the little things, no matter how strange or illogical it may seem for others. I've stopped trying to do what people expect me to do. We all have different standards and different definitions of happiness, and I have chosen to define mine in the most simple manner I can.

Because living a life miserable and unhappy is living a life unfulfilled.

I don't know where to begin, and I know I am a long way from living the quality of life I yearn for, but I know this. I need to start making time for the most important thing in my life.

Myself.

Full speed ahead for that one.

the red day

2007-02-14T21:08:00.000+01:00

perya sa metrowalk

2007-01-31T17:57:00.000+01:00

I have curly hair.

For the longest time, I hated it -- it was dry, frizzy, and unruly. I spent my childhood dreaming of having straight hair, but no matter how many hair products & treatments I tried, my hair just seemed to have a mind of its own.

Now that I'm older, I've learned to embrace my curly hair. Unfortunately, most salons haven't -- the minute I walk into a salon, there is always someone trying to convince me to straighten my hair. An hour or so of annoying salestalk later, they try a last attempt to convert me by insisting on blow-drying my hair straight. Which I absolutely detest. With hair as curly as mine, blow-drying my hair straight means ending up with: a) my hair pulled out of my scalp by attempts to brush out the kinks; and b) my scalp burning from the amount of time spent under the blow dryer.

So I was pleasantly surprised when I walked into the Azta Urban Salon at Metrowalk and didn't get a single comment about straightening my hair. Not only that, they actually knew how to handle curly hair -- from the wide-toothed comb they ran through my hair and the diffuser used to dry it. Hallelujah! I totally digged that squeeze bottle shampoo and the Davines hair color, too!

I walked out of that salon with a spring in my step and even more spring in my curls! :)

***

In case you haven't been to Metrowalk recently, do check out their urban take on the traditional perya. (Did you know that Metrowalk was built over what was previously the Payanig sa Pasig?) Win your girlfriend (or boyfriend) a stuffed toy by tossing coins on a table, shooting hoops, hammering all your stress away, tossing rings over bottles, and riding a bull cowboy-style. Kulang na lang cotton candy! Weee!

*Azta Urban Salon has branches at Metrowalk (2nd Level, Metrowalk Commercial Complex, Meralco Avenue, Pasig), Katipunan (2nd Level, SMRC Building, Katipunan Ave., Loyola Heights, Quezon City (in front of Miriam College)), Robinsons Metroeast (Body Senses, 4th Level, Robinsons Metroeast, Marcos Highway, Pasig) and Eastwood City (2nd Level, City Walk 2, Eastwood City, Libis (above Starbucks and A Different Bookstore)).

the best thing about travelling...

2007-01-14T09:27:00.000+01:00

... is all the delicious food you get to bring home!

[stroopwafels from holland & coffee from germany]

going brit

2007-01-12T21:49:00.000+01:00

Newcastle-Upon-Tyne.

It's one of those places I'd never dreamed of going to -- or, more accurately, one of those places I didn't even know existed until I started working for my company. Such a fancy name as Newcastle-Upon-Tyne had to belong up there in my schoolbooks, along with Stratford Upon Avon and other Shakespeare-y things.

But, the new year surprised me with a new team and a whirlwind trip to the UK, so I found myself on a 6-day trip (two days on an airplane, three days at work, and one day exploring the city) to that tiny city called Newcastle that sits upon the river Tyne.

It's a place where speaking English doesn't guarantee you'll understand what people are saying, you can catch a cab at the taxi rank, excuse yourself to go to the loo/toilet (why does the phrase "where are the toilets?" sound so crass in the Philippines yet so refined in Britain?) and shop at high streets.

Oh, and did I mention aisles upon aisles of Marks & Spencer food products? I had a field day choosing which sweets to buy. ;)

Such a lovely town.

caught in a moment

2007-01-08T21:35:00.000+01:00

cupcakes and aloha

2006-11-29T05:55:00.000+01:00

If you've been out and about the metro, then you've probably heard about the flock of new restaurants at the newly-opened Piazza @ Serendra. Being exiled to the Ortigas office has slowed down my attendance rate for new hotspots in the metro, so it took a workday in Makati for me to finally make my way to Serendra.

Being the sugarholic that I am, I immediately made a beeline for Cupcakes by Sonja. My previous experience with cupcakes being Pan-A-Cup cupcakes you could get at your nearest suking tindahan, I was curious about what these much-hyped cupcakes would taste like. The tiny shop looked like those candy shops I'd fantasized about as a child-- pink striped walls, giant peppermints hanging from the ceiling, and a display case filled with the prettiest cupcakes I'd ever seen. They have 27 kinds of cupcakes, with prices ranging from PhP48.00 for the Vanilla Sunshine to a whopping PhP130.00 for the Heavenly Pistachio and Sweet Pleasures cupcakes. I picked the prettiest cakes out of the bunch and happily walked out with six cupcakes in their dainty powder blue box.

Undeniably, all of the cupcakes looked gorgeous... but how did they taste? It was really a case of hit-and-miss. The Melt-In-Your-Mouth Flourless Chocolate Cupcake (described as "a dense Valrhona flourless chocolate with rich, velvety texture") was absolutely divine, but the rest of the cupcakes were nothing out of the ordinary. Yes, they were indeed different from the cupcakes we're used to, but then again, at PhP50-130 you could also get an equally delicious (and larger) slice of cake. Cupcakes by Sonja is worth a try, but in the end you're just paying extra to get your cake in a cup.

Up next was dinner at the Hawaiian-inspired Polu Kai Grill. I came in hoping to learn what Hawaiian food was all about, but Polu Kai's menu leaves much doubt as to whether they serve authentic Hawaiian cuisine. The menu seemed more like a fusion of American and Asian dishes than anything particularly Hawaiian, but... I've never been to Hawaii anyway so I can't really tell. :P

We had the baked oysters, the Giant Squid Steak, and the Loco Moco (basically a Salisbury Steak topped with a fried egg). I liked how tender the squid was despite how thick it was, and the grilled flavor of the Loco Moco's burger reminded me of my favorite burgers from the Utopia Cafe in Toronto.

The menu isn't as fresh and adventurous as I'd hoped it would be -- in fact, it's very simple fare, but I found it quite tasty. Prices are a bit hefty at PhP350 up for the main courses, but if you have carnivorous fantasies of sinking your teeth into inch-thick burgers and squid steaks (roar!), The Polu Kai Grill is a mighty contender.

*Cupcakes by Sonja and The Polu Kai Grill are located at the Serendra Piazza, Bonifacio Global City, Taguig.

winter wonderlands and sunsets

2006-11-27T11:53:00.000+01:00

The rink glows a magical, icy blue. People glide through the mist, bundled up in sweaters. Suddenly, a collective murmur of excitement ripples through the crowd as snowflakes start drifting gently from the sky.

Yes, I'm still in Manila.

SM Mall of Asia's International Ice Skating Rink, to be exact.

After the bout of warm weather we'd been having recently, the cloud of fog rising from the ice was impossible to resist. I soon found myself lacing on a pair of skates, raring to join the beautiful, romantic, and otherworldly melange of people twirling on the ice. Of course, the moment I stepped on the ice, it was neither beautiful nor romantic. Otherwordly, perhaps -- I must have looked like some freak show clanging across the rink.

An hour of 'winter' and an immeasurable amount of public humiliation later, I realized I wouldn't be having any Serendipity-esque moments anytime soon (at least not until I continued to skate like a clown)... so I threw in my skates and headed over to the esplanade to watch the sun set instead. There's nothing quite like sitting on the seawall and watching the waves break across the rocks, letting the salty sea breeze run through your hair. I've always loved places where the metropolis meets nature, because of how it allows me to be near the addicting hustle and bustle of the big city, yet feel so grounded at the same time -- and the esplanade behind the Mall of Asia is a wonderful example of such a place.

I remember the last time I felt this calm and at peace with myself. I was sitting on the shores of Lake Ontario, wondering what would happen to me after I left Toronto.

I thought, then, that the end had come.

Now I know it was only the beginning.

galileo enoteca - not another italian restaurant

2006-11-19T21:33:00.000+01:00

Not another Italian restaurant.

That was my first thought when I heard about Galileo Enoteca. I mean, there can only be so much Italian restaurants in Metro Manila -- it was starting to get too cumbersome to weed out the good places from the multitude of mediocre ones.

Galileo Enoteca, however, proved to be quite a gem.

Tucked on small side street just past the Edsa & Shaw Boulevard intersection, the enoteca looks tiny when viewed from outside. Primarily a delicatessen, you will be greeted with a chiller stocked with an exquisite assortment of meats and cheeses as you step in. It's a bit cramped in the foyer, but deeper into this brick-walled cellar are more shelves of Italian fine foods (and Baci chocolates!) and wine. Candlelight, frescos on the wall, wooden tables & benches complete the quiet, romantic atmosphere.

The menu contains the usual Italian fare, but Galileo Enoteca is set apart from most Italian restaurants in Metro Manila by their use of items sold in the deli (vs. locally sourced ingredients) for some of the dishes in the menu. I opted for a prix fixe meal for PhP400 a person. These meals change daily depending on whatever ingredients are on hand. Today, it consisted of fresh anchovies & focaccia, fresh olives, a cold cuts (prosciutto, salami, and mortadella) & cheese platter, salad drizzled with vinnaigrette (which was delicious considering I don't normally like vinaigrette), a plate of Penne Con Porcini (a cream-based pasta with Shiitake mushrooms), a glass of wine (your choice of house red, white, or sweet wine) and a cup of Molinari coffee (you can opt for tea instead) to complete your meal.

Needless to say, I was completely bowled over.

Brilliant.

*Galileo Enoteca is located at Calbayog corner Malinao St., Mandaluyong City. Reservations are recommended.

the emperor's new shoes

2006-11-19T00:30:00.000+01:00

Ladies and gentlemen, I have discovered the cure for shopaholicism... drum roll, please... gain 10lbs!

Okay -- so weight gain isn't exactly a good thing, especially since I really should be watching out for my blood sugar. But instead of bemoaning the ten pounds I was supposed to lose but instead gained in Toronto, I'll look at the bright side and just be glad it's curbed my urge to shop.

Except for shoes, that is.

Shoes always fit, even on your fat days. Of course, it helped that they recently instituted a dress code at work, which meant 90% of my shoe rack was inappropriate, save for my tweed ballet flats, my brown boots, a pair of batterred black heels, and an even more battered pair of black boots. It was the perfect excuse to go on an obsessive hunt for the perfect pair of comfy-but-not-as-fugly-as-the-black-loafers-your-tita-wears, dress-code-worthy shoes! ;) After two failed purchases (boots + sandals that seemed to be on a quest to murder my feet), I finally found these: Lacoste's uber-comfy white loafers with papansin blue soles (otherwise known as choy shoes*). Yay! They're so preppy, I feel like I should be sailing a yacht somewhere! And for once my feet don't feel like they're being tortured! I llaaaahhhv it! I will use them forever and ever and ever!

*choy shoes (choy-shus) 1. n shoes na binurdahan ng lola ni choy 2. adj. shoes that look normal but really aren't. To illustrate:
sheila: Choy, bakit mukhang normal ata sapatos mo ngayon?
choy: (tips foot to display the purple sole of his shoes) Hindi a!

Ehehehe. Peace, Choy!

in search of the next big thing

2006-11-14T17:37:00.000+01:00

the nearest we get to heaven today
is in seeing a distant osprey
lift its wings, prepare for passage
bear all the weight of our imagining.
- "flight" by charmaine cadeau,
off the Toronto subway in spring 2006

Hello, stranger.

It's been a while.

Two months, to be exact, since I last wrote an entry. Four months since I last felt normal. It's strange, really, how a few months ago, time seemed to be on fast forward. So much life, so little time.

Now, there is only time.

the casanova that failed to live up to his name

2006-10-23T21:30:00.000+02:00

I had heard some buzz about the Gran Caffe Casanova Ristorante Italiano, which promised fine dining under the stars and a breathtaking view of the metropolis. It sounded lovely enough, so I jumped at the chance for al fresco dining at a spot that wasn't as crowded and noisy as most restaurants.

The disappointment started to sink in the moment I got there. The pictures I had seen of the restaurant showed what looked like a small, romantic garden with a charming little fountain. Apparently. that picture was the best part -- the rest of the garden was just an area enclosed and separated from the Starbucks next door by some potted plants with christmas lights.

There was no one waiting at the entrance to seat customers, so we wandered into the restaurant and stood awkwardly in the middle before a waiter took notice. He then proceeded to hand us worn-out menus with water stains on them. The choices looked impressive enough, offering freshly-made pasta and pizza dough, although it was a bit on the expensive side at PhP350 up for the dishes. Perhaps the poor service and shabby menus would be redeemed by the food.

We ordered pasta (I forgot which, since the first two I ordered were not available and I finally had to settle for what the waiter recommended) and the Quattro Stagioni pizza, which combines four of their pizzas in one. The pasta is okay, although I've tasted better. The pizza disappointed me completely -- the crust was slightly rubbery and suspiciously tasted like the frozen pizza crusts you can buy from supermarkets, and there were so few toppings I might as well have ordered a plain cheese pizza.

Call me fussy, but there really was nothing fine dining about the place except for the price. Even the table setting -- for a self-proclaimed fine dining place -- was a fork, a knife, and a single paper towel. Mas madami pang tissue sa Jollibee. I guess I would have been more forgiving if they hadn't actually promised "fine dining under the stars" on those tacky paper placemats -- they aimed for the stars, but fell short of expectations.

If you're up for real Italian cuisine, there are so many places that serve waaaaaay better pastas and pizzas at waaaaaay lower prices. Greenwich Pizza, for example. (Okay, I'm being mean here. :P I'm just pissed I had to pay PhP600.00 for a lousy dinner.)

*The Gran Caffè Casanova Ristorante Italiano is located at The Clubhouse, Corinthian Hills, Temple Drive, Quezon City. Open from 11 am – 12 midnight (Monday-Sunday). (632) 638-2989 / 632- 7617

peri-peri good

2006-09-23T19:29:00.000+02:00

What is a Peri-Peri Chicken?

That was the question on my mind as I walked into the restaurant. I initially suspected it was just chicken inasal with a gimmick, since peri-peri sounded like an Ilonggo word. Or maybe inihaw na manok that was trying to be more wordly, hence the interiors that somehow reminded me of Brazil Brazil.

Obviously, I'm not very cultured.

After perusing the menu and not finding anything to explain what a peri-peri chicken was (except for the phrase "spit-fire grilled chicken", which didn't help much since I had no idea what a spit-fire was), I decided to let my stomach do the thinking.

The menu centers on the chicken, which comes in Lemon Garlic, Peri Mild, and Peri Hot flavors. There's an array of side dishes to complement your chicken (tortilla chips, java garlic rice, tortillas, corn kernels, macaroni & cheese, potato salad, and coleslaw), other chicken dishes like chicken wraps and chicken strips, and some other ulams for those who don't like poultry. Prices are reasonable, ranging from PhP100-300.

I'm starving from all that mental effort by this time, so I decide to load up on the carbs and order the the lemon garlic chicken, the potato salad, and the java garlic rice. Service is quick and friendly; the meal comes in no time at all, and with it... peri-peri heaven. The chicken is perfectly moist and juicy, and comes with a special dipping sauce which seems to be made out of oil, but who cares? It's tasty! If you want to up the heat factor, douse your chicken with the bottles of Peri Mild and Peri Hot sauce on the table.

Thirty minutes later I am leaning back on my chair, rubbing my stomach. I still had no idea what a peri-peri chicken was -- it's not chicken inasal, nor is it inihaw na manok, but it definitely was peri-peri good.

*After doing my homework, I discovered that peri-peri is actually the name used for the African Bird's Eye chili in Portuguese and some African languages. It is often used in Portuguese cuisine to prepare sauces and marinades for roasted and grilled dishes... and so, peri-peri chicken!

*Peri Peri Chicken is located at the Promenade, Greenhills.

the cream puffs that went through a snowstorm

2006-09-13T18:55:00.000+02:00

The golden brown, crusty shells caught my eye before I even noticed the sign above it.

Beard Papa's Fresh 'n Natural Cream Puffs.

I thought it was a rather odd name for a shop. Beard Papa? And weren't all cream puffs fresh and natural anyway? I chalked it up to Engrish -- something must have gotten lost in translation. Besides, the sight of those cream puffs were too tantalizing to ignore. I had a temporary moment of paralysis as I imagined sinking my teeth into that crusty, flaky pastry as the cream oozed out of the shell.

I ♥ cream puffs.

So I begrudgingly shelled over fifty pesos for one, even if I thought it was a bit outrageous for a single cream puff. I figured, there must be something special about those cream puffs if that's the only thing they sold.

The Taste Test? I was disappointed. I found the cream filling rather bland; and it lacked that caramelized sugar on top that made cream puffs so deliciously gooey. Maybe I was just expecting the Filipino version of the cream puff (think Puffs & Stuff along Commonwealth), because apparently Beard Papa's is setting off cream puff crazes everywhere.

Anyway, I was a bit miffed at having had to shell out fifty pesos for a cream puff, so I decided to make my own. And voila...

Sheila's Papa's Fresh n' Natural and Cheap Cream Puffs! ;)

*Beard Papa's Fresh 'n Natural Cream Puffs are available at Food Choices Glorietta, SM Megamall Building A, and at the Greenhills Promenade.

the outsider

2006-08-22T18:18:00.000+02:00

sometimes, the world can make you feel like an outsider.
and sometimes, the outside isn't so bad after all.

[museum cafe, greenbelt 4]

out on the town

2006-08-05T05:59:00.000+02:00

the city against the stillness of manila bay
[taken from the harbour square complex, ccp, manila]

ice cream & candlelight
[at the manila peninsula. brownout kaya may candle. ;)]

do one thing everyday that scares you

2006-08-03T21:52:00.000+02:00

"...the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long.
You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you

sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of..."
--"Breakfast at Tiffany's", Truman Capote

It's been three weeks since I got back, and I'm still lost in the madness of getting my life back to normal. Wake. Eat. Work. Sleep. Wake. Eat. Work. Sleep. The routine is madness; yet I find myself thrown into it by forces of expectation & feigned responsibility. This is normal because this is what everybody expects of me. This is normal because this is what a mature, responsible adult would do.

I swallow this like a bitter pill.

It rained miserably the first week; the dark clouds settled over Manila the way they had over me. In the midst of warm hellos and welcome backs, my smile quivered at the edges. It terrified me. Here I was with the people I called my life, yet the thing I wanted to do most was to bolt and run away.

I was home, but this was no longer home. Nor is Toronto, nor New York, nor anywhere else in the world.

I no longer had a home.

*****

But I am okay.

It's nice to say that, even if only to myself. I am okay. It hasn't been stellar, but life goes on. There are still days when I wake up and feel that emptiness; where that part of me I lost when I left used to be. But if people can survive wars and deaths and nature's catastrophes, surely I am strong enough to survive this.

Toronto. That life seems so far away now, I wonder if it had only been a dream. Sometimes, in the middle of my daily rush, I catch myself standing, transfixed, before the poster of Toronto on my closet door. It's an aerial shot of the city, something I had tacked there years back not knowing how much the city would mean to me one day. My finger traces the outlines of the buildings, until I end up on Queen Street West. And, for a moment, I almost see myself walking down the street again.

I remember what it was like to be happy.

*****

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

I am scared as hell, but I promise to go on, because I know it will be worth it.

Life doesn't have to be this way.

the wanderer

2006-07-16T02:56:00.000+02:00

Five months.

That's how long I've been gone.

It could have been a lifetime.

I've spent the last 24 hours in airports and airplanes, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. It's all a blur now, like some drug-induced haze, except the only thing I am on is pain. I've had to say goodbye so many times in the past few weeks that I am no longer capable of feeling anything except for that dull ache of a broken heart.

What bothered me most was I didn't know if I was going home, or leaving home.

In my brief states of consciousness, I could not even concentrate long enough to finish a page of the novel I had brought, or listen to the inflight radio before the music turned to garish noises pounding in my head. I could only stare out the windows, watching clouds roll by and icecaps floating on a boundless sea.

Then I saw myself, slipping away.

the day is breaking and time is taking
the love we're making away
this life can only leave us lonely
there's no tommorow,
just another little hole in her heart
- another little hole, aqualung

this is the only hiking i do

2006-07-14T05:14:00.000+02:00

I climb... erm... rocks in Central Park. Teehee.

career options

2006-07-12T05:22:00.000+02:00

which way?

it's not ice cream...

2006-07-10T05:46:00.000+02:00

gone are the days when i thought coney island was an ice cream brand...
on another note, this was the first time i saw the atlantic ocean! cool!

art and pop art

2006-07-08T04:33:00.000+02:00

admiring the guggenheim's architecture is fun...

but watching this real-life version of scooby doo & scrappy doo is much more fun!

[pictures taken at the solomon r. guggenheim museum, fifth ave., new york]

sister, sister

2006-07-07T08:34:00.000+02:00

my sister and i on the banks of the east river

when dusk falls

2006-07-07T04:16:00.000+02:00

top: sailing into the sunset [liberty island, as seen from the staten island ferry]
bottom: manhattan & the brooklyn bridge [taken from the subway as it crossed manhattan bridge]

the city that never sleeps

2006-07-06T05:45:00.000+02:00

riding on the Q train

2006-07-05T23:43:00.000+02:00

on the Q subway line

[somewhere between canal st. & 14th st-union square stations]

an insane quest for sunlight

2006-07-02T22:06:00.000+02:00

I headed over to Central Park today to watch Jose Gonzalez (he sang the song from this awesome Sony Bravia commercial) perform at the annual Central Park SummerStage.

So did a thousand other people.

I must say, New York summers are insane. All patches of grass around the city, from the rolling greens of Central Park to pseudo-parks like Union Square, are packed with people trying to bake themselves in the sun. Some people were even decked in complete beach attire, beach balls included.

Bikinis. In the middle of the screeching sounds of New York taxis a few feet away. With no body of water in sight. This isn't even gentle sun -- this is hot, humid, Manila-like sun.

Yep, this is seriously insane. When I get home, I am going to get a proper sunburn near the beach, like someone from a tropical country should.

So, you see, there are still some things Filipinos have better.

Yun lang.

canyons of steel

2006-07-02T02:46:00.000+02:00

the chrysler building towers over 42nd st.
[42nd st, manhattan, new york city]

i want to go home...

2006-07-01T18:56:00.000+02:00

Except I don't know where home is.

channelling andy warhol

2006-07-01T04:28:00.000+02:00

Spent the day at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), which is my favorite museum (and I don't even like museums!) for three reasons:

They have Van Gogh's The Starry Night (my most favorite painting) + Picassos, Cezannes, Seurats, and other big names I remember from my art history class.
I'm fascinated by the design gallery where they have everyday things on display -- subway signs, old PCs, the iPod, Umbra trash cans... even bath poufs!
The MoMA Store rocks! They carry all sorts of artsy-fartsy/hi-tech/kitschy items like this calendar and clock made from magnets. So I usually spend one hour in the museum and another hour in the store. Teehee.

shopping, star sightings, and a mysterious place between heaven and earth

2006-06-30T05:28:00.000+02:00

♠ Someone is probably bound to kill me for having such a bad case of tourist tamaditis in New York (of all places), but I haven't really done anything here except shopping. There I was next to Ground Zero (the World Trade Center site) and the New York City Hall, but I bypassed those and somehow ended up buying a new digicam at J&R (my favorite geek store in NY -- just imagine, a whole block of gadgets and gizmos!) and a new pair of shoes at Century 21 instead. I am officially bankrupt.

♠ In other news, I saw Keri Russell! My sister and I were exploring SoHo, and she had just pointed out the Dean & DeLuca where Felicity (from the defunct TV show of the same name) worked... when fifteen minutes later, Keri Russell saunters past us doing some shopping of her own. Cool. I shop where Felicity does! I'm cono! :P

♠ I had been a bit disappointed about missing Cirque du Soleil's Delirium in Toronto (they were touring Toronto the day I left), but as luck would have it, I was in town to catch the last few days of Corteo in New York... and my sister had tickets! Hooray! The show's synopsis says it takes place in "a mysterious space between heaven and earth", and that was exactly what it felt like. It was surreal.

oh, manhattan!

2006-06-28T01:23:00.000+02:00

Manhattan from the Brooklyn Bridge Park, in the DUMBO

(Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) neighborhood in Brooklyn

the travelling gnome

2006-06-26T09:07:00.000+02:00

I'll be honest. I'm in New York, but I've been too bummed out to venture outdoors.
So, like that gnome in Amelie, I'll let my avatar do the travelling instead...

From Toronto to New York City!

a new york state of mind

2006-06-26T00:55:00.000+02:00

I woke up this morning to the sounds of birds chirping, and a car idling next door. I had tossed and turned last night, and every time I woke up in the middle of the night, I kept expecting to see the calming city lights of downtown Toronto through my windows.

But there was only darkness and the wind rustling through the trees.

*****

The rain was pouring when I got into New York last night; it seemed the skies mirrored the way I felt inside. It's funny. I’ve always said New York was my most favorite place in the world, but as I sat there in the taxi watching New York in all its big city frenzy, all I could think about was how much I missed Toronto.

And suddenly, New York no longer held that surreal magic I thought it had. I was disillusioned, like the way you would feel when you realize a love affair had gone bad.

I had fallen in love with Toronto without meaning to.

*****

The sinking feeling is gone, but in its place is an immeasurable sadness. It came with the reluctant acceptance that I will never see Toronto that way again, through my bedroom windows. I will never have a chance to relive those memories, for even the places that could bring those memories back have started to turn fuzzy.

Someone told me that I still have three weeks -- New York will still have a chance to work its magic with me.

Maybe.

Right now, all I’m praying for is just to have the courage to move on.

epilogue: suite 506

2006-06-25T05:33:00.000+02:00

There is an apartment, on a corner of a nondescript building in downtown Toronto, that lies dark and empty.

It's on a quiet corner of the fifth floor. If you look out the windows from the master's bedroom, you will see the lights of the Toronto Hilton elevators as they climb up and down the building. South on Simcoe Street, you will see the boarded up windows of Toronto's oldest hotel, as it lies waiting to know if it will be demolished or restored to its old grandeur.

If you lie awake at night, you will hear the constant hum of the city cleaners as they make their way through the streets of downtown -- an invisible army washing away all the dust and grime of the day to prepare Toronto for another sparkling day. Sometimes you can even watch them from the windows, as the water cannons blast away all the posters plastered to the lampposts and street signs. The water archs gracefully in the air, and, just as it hits the lampposts, bits and pieces of poster paper are obliterated into tiny specks of fiber floating in the night air.

On weekends, this sound is replaced by the excited drone of people on the way to parties, ready to dance and drink the stress of the week away. The streets bustle with people walking briskly in the cool night air, while long white limousines and police cars dot the traffic snaking through the city streets. In the dark, the police car's lights dance on the apartment's ceilings, a reminder that the world goes on even when your own life seems to be on pause.

The apartment lies silent now.

It has been scrubbed and cleaned and stripped of all its character, ready for its next occupants.

But, for four months in the year 2006, it bore the color and character of two people who lived within its walls and called it home. It watched as they grew and evolved, bearing witness as they ran through a gamut of emotions, from the awe and wonder of two strangers arriving in a foreign land, to falling in love, to the heartbreak of letting go.

It shared the joy of the countless people who shared those four months with them: of zinfandels and wine glasses clinking against each other in celebration; of late nights working and bemoaning the headaches of the job; of the warmth of visitors from home; of dinners and desserts and new concoctions in the kitchen; of laughs and screams and wine bottles slammed against the glass table; of kisses exchanged in blurry moments; of conversations that felt like nothing but meant everything.

It lies silent now.

In a few days, this apartment will become someone else's home. It will bear the character of someone else's life; of someone else's hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

It will forget the memory of the people who once lived here.

But I will never forget. It will always remain in my memory as it once was, in the four months I called it home.

zero

2006-06-24T15:37:00.000+02:00

Hello, Toronto.

This is Sheila.

Signing off.

one

2006-06-23T19:43:00.000+02:00

I woke up with a start.

Then I remembered today was my last full day here, and I felt my heart sinking again. I hate having to wake up every day feeling like this; yet the thought that I will no longer have to feel this soon does not bring any relief.

Today, I will ride the subway to Sheppard and back one last time. I will look at those subway stops we pass and wonder why each stop looked the way it was, and realize my question will never be answered. I will go to the office, attempt to work, grab some lunch at Sheppard Centre, and pack up my things for the last time.

Tonight, I will walk around Toronto for the last time. I will walk down Yonge Street looking into the colorful store windows one last time. I will walk around Queen Street West, which I have come to know as my village, one last time. I will sit by Nathan Phillips Square and allow the place to calm me one last time.

Then, I will go home and watch the street from my bedroom windows.

I will try not to sleep. If I don't, maybe tomorrow will never come.

***

Sometimes, I wonder how my life would have gone had I decided not to go on this trip. A few months back, I almost gave this up, but for some reason even I could not understand then, I chose this.

I understand now.

I was supposed to do this.

***

In ten years, I promise to return to Toronto.

A lot can happen in ten years. Who knows? Maybe I would be living in Toronto by then. But, if not, I promise to return here, so I can remember who I once was.

And, maybe in ten years, I will understand why this happened. Maybe my future self would be able to tell me now, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it? Now, do you understand why you still had to leave?"

In time.