It’s All Relative

Have you ever tried reading the Book of Numbers in the Bible and somehow end up getting lost with all the genealogy – the list of tribes, the many sons and daughters who married into families with names we can even barely pronounce? And yet, just when we’re ready to brush it off, a common word or truth breaks through and jars us to reality. So even with our eyes falling, we continue reading on, hoping for more clues or a common name to at least help us recognize our present.

Family reunions, for me, are just like the Book of Numbers – repetitive, monotonous, full of “remember-whens” and yet, very enlightening when you least expect it. Depending on how we look at it really, one thing’s for sure -- it’s all relative.

Genealogist and writer Carol Braxton once said, “Everybody is a part of a big family. They just don't know it." How true. Recently, we were organizing a hotel event when Senyo, the director I’ve met just two days before, came up to me and asked out of the blue, “Hey, are you attending the family reunion?”

“Huh?” I blanked out for a moment. I knew the guy was from Bigfoot, but for the life of me, I couldn’t even recall his last name. Still… “We’re related? How ‘kewl’ is that!” And why doesn’t that surprise me? I’ve lost count of the number of times people have asked if I was related to a certain stranger in Guadalupe, a businessman in Carcar, or a talent manager in Manila – to which I always answer “Why not?” (Never mind that we may not actually be). In the Philippines, after all, it’s all relative.

And where there are relatives, there’s always a reunion. In true Filipino fashion, the VILLALUZ clan, from my mother’s side of the family, isn’t intimidated by the thought of planning a reunion for about a 100 or so of our kinfolk. The reunion, which falls on a Monday, December 27 at the Sacred Heart Center here in Cebu, is expected to draw relatives from all over the Philippines and abroad. The family tree branches into more than 50 families covering four generations. Realizing this, I begin to have mixed emotions about attending this reunion. Wouldn’t you?

Family reunions can be heartwarming and be about retightening family ties, or they can end up being a disastrous event that makes you wish you had stayed home. Some of us might be burdened by the cost of traveling. Or some of us would rather hide than face the ghosts of reunions past – Aunt Negativity; Cousin Nosy, Mr. Know-it-all; Ms. I-won’t-be-there-if-she’s-there; the unruly “children of the corn”; and even the uninvited four-legged tag-alongs that poop. Toxic, toxic. Holiday stress? Truly, it could all be relative.

But then again, like reading the Book of Numbers, a family reunion is also an opportunity to trace our roots, learn from history, connect many of the missing pieces of our past and perhaps, understand ourselves a little better. Indeed, organizing an event that could include hundreds of people that you aren't all that close to can be a daunting task. But then, it could also be worth the effort especially when you:

Discover that with family, anything is possible
Have you ever tried to fit 20 adults and 15 kids into a cottage with 10-person capacity? Apparently, families find ways. On the other hand, who would have thought that 10 years later, you’d be imparting the same words of wisdom from your elders (which you yourself did not follow anyway when you were younger) to your teenage nieces who, by the way, have no business being taller than you? And isn’t it just amazing how generations have evolved? Unlike before, kids nowadays can totally sit still for a couple of hours for as long as there’s a PlayStation on hand.

Feel history come alive through your family
Important events like WWII, the Edsa Revolution, the decades-long bloodbath in Mindanao or the sinking of the Dona Paz ship are all historical events I could not have fully grasped or appreciated if not for the surviving members of my family. Have you ever wondered how your ancestors landed in Philippine shores – by foot, by boat or through trade using a magic carpet perhaps? How did they celebrate milestones? How did they handle pain, hunger or loss of loved ones? Learning how they survived life’s tragedies or the changing times could give us insights into our own lives.

Find that your family’s love stories are juicier than fiction
I got to know most of my mother’s relatives through her bedtime stories. I remember being intrigued by the story of a great-aunt who fell in love with a cousin. I remember being amazed that my stern-looking Lolo Paz once hand-stitched with care my Lolo Ando’s handkerchief as a memento of their romance. I remember cheering on my Tito Odel who used to wait for hours every day outside the family’s ancestral home just for a chance to talk to my Tita Ester for a few minutes once the dragon– my Lola – goes to slumber. And who would have thought that my Bisdak father, afraid of not seeing my mother again, convinced her to elope from Davao to Cebu? Compared to theirs, boy, my love life is tame. Bummer.

Meet new family
Sometimes, meeting new people is hard. What do you talk about? Do you share the same crazy genes or did you just get that from your other side of the family? But then, who knows? A distant cousin might share the same passion and become your new best friend. Reunions are also the perfect opportunity to network. The more cousins, the more babysitters you get. Or the more text votes you have should you decide to enter Pinoy Big Brother’s house. Networking, in essence, is give-and-take. Helping family could earn you help in return.

Indulge in cultural exchange with family.
There goes that song in my head, “It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world after all…” One great thing about belonging to a big family is that you can travel far and wide and know that somehow, your brother, a cousin, an aunt or an uncle will manage to catch you along the way. When cousin Nim decided to backpack across America in his first bid for independence, he managed to go through the states by visiting long-lost relatives using a sketchy family tree as his guide. He wasn’t disappointed. On another part of the globe my Aunt Miriam taught me to appreciate the many dances of the Mindanao tribes. In Davao, every time my many cousins and I get together, cousin Louie never fails to mention we’re like the United Colors of Benetton. We may not have the same accents or share the same skin color, but we understand the language of family, with every syllable beating straight from the heart.

So going back to Senyo’s question: Yes, cousin, I’ll be there. Bring on the cameras and let’s capture memories that would take future generations another 48 years to sort through. To the whole clan, again, that’s Monday, December 27 at the Sacred Heart Center here in Cebu. See you all and Merry Christmas!

-- SunStar Weekend, 18 December 2010

Letters from a Catwoman

Isn’t it amazing how cats and women could easily mirror each other-- how we sometimes purr, curl, land on our feet, or even the way we fight? Perhaps, in an alternate universe, if cats were to write and speak, their letters might even sound familiar. Such as these. Read on.

*****
Dear Mr. Apartment 3B,

Hello there. Purrrrr…

I’d like to welcome you to our humble abode. It may not pass for the grand palace of the northern front (or any front for that matter), but what it lacks in beauty and structure, it makes up for history and character. And for us fortunate to live here, that's enough to call it home.

I heard you were moving in today and I hope that the place is much to your liking. To be blunt, I do hope you’re way more charming than Apartment 3B’s previous owners. Ugh, they were just terrible—newlyweds, if you care to ask. A couple who just couldn’t keep it down. Not that I don’t understand their need to celebrate -- they just got married, duh. Or so I tell myself every time the shrieks get too much to bear. But then, did they have to do it every hour and rub it in to those who aren’t getting any? Oh well.

Anyway, I digress. I bet anyone’s better after those two so I’d like to extend my warmest welcome and hope we get along. After all, it helps to like the person you intend to borrow milk from time to time. Don’t worry, you can borrow some of mine too.

Meow,
Catwoman in the House

*****
Dear Mr. Gorgeous of Apartment 3B,

As I write, my tongue is still hanging out. I can’t seem to get it back. Not after I had my first glimpse of you. Rawrrr, you’re gorgeous! Do you know that you have the eyes of a hawk and the walk of a tiger? Oooh, so purely male. None of the salon-made nails or hair a lot of these metrosexual guys seem to sport these days, either. But I’ve got to say, your delicious butt definitely wins the asset race. Simply yum!

Wait, what’s that I smell? Is that tomato-based fish fillet? Don’t tell me you cook, too. That would just be simply too good to be true. I’ve got to see this.
…
So it’s true. I just took a peek from the narrow slit of the wall that divides us and saw you with my own two pretty eyes cooking in your kitchen. Wow. I didn’t know men like you still exist these days. I have one word for you, mister -- perfect. You simply are perfect. And I do believe I’m falling in love. Hope you notice me.

Meow,
The pretty CatWoman in the House

*****
Dear Mr. Perfect of Apartment 3B,

No day could ever be as perfect as today. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and the air smells great. Most importantly, you smiled at me today.

Encouraged—and yes, yes, dazzled by that smile -- I approached you and introduced myself. So we talked for awhile. It was the most stimulating 5 minutes of my life. And then, it was nice meeting me, you said. And that I had the most beautiful hair and eyes you’ve ever seen. Was that flirting, or what! You couldn’t have made me happier.

Of course I played it coy and cool. After all, it wouldn’t do to make you think I was so needy now, would it. Knowing you men, that will just scare you away. Beware though, I plan to bring out the big guns tonight. You’ll never know what hit you when we meet again for the dinner you’ve so graciously invited me to. I can’t wait.

Meow,
The sexy CatWoman in the House

*****
Dear Mr. Jerk of Apartment 3B,

How could you?! I thought we had a date. How could you forget so easily? After I bathed myself and put on fragrance just for you, you carelessly overlook me for that—that other woman!

Don’t you see that she’s perfectly unsuitable for you? Notice how thickly she uses makeup-- no doubt trying to hide the hundreds of pimples and blackheads that scatter all over her square face! Or how about the way she dresses? She might as well have gone naked. Hiss.

So what if she has a pretty smile? I’d bet she’d bore you to death with it. Take it from me, she’s not right for you! Pause. Breathe in… out. Stop reading for awhile as I count to ten. Stop reading! Breathe in… out…

Okay, okay. I understand how you might be vulnerable to a girl like that—short skirts, long legs, big boobs and all. After all, you’re just a man. I guess it’s up to me to show you better, huh? The fight isn’t over yet. Just you wait and see.

I forgive you,
The only sexy CatWoman in the House

*****
Dear Mr. Apartment 3B,

I hope by the time you read this, you have found it in your heart to forgive me—even just a little bit. Please, before you make up your mind about me, allow me to explain.

You’ve overruled my original defense—love. So I shall give you what’s left -- insanity.

For indeed, I may have gone to being more than just a little unwell. How else can you explain loving someone at first sight? Or the fact that I’ve given someone, you to be exact, the power to determine how my day turns out – good or bad depending on whether you’re kind to me or not. And how could I have shed all sense, dignity and morality just because I so want to possess you? Believe me, this hasn’t happened to me before. This does not happen to sane beings. Yet, it did to me now. Call me crazy, but if this is what love makes you, then so be it.

I admit I may have been, meow, a bit vicious. Okay, very vicious. I only meant to push her aside really, she was sitting too close. But then she had to kiss you. The blood for war went singing through my veins. You were mine damn it. I saw you first. I kept thinking how lovely it would be to scratch her back and wring her pretty neck. Before I knew it, I landed on her back with a snarl.

The rest went hazy after that. I believe there was scratching, maybe even biting. But please believe me when I say, I never meant to draw blood. Well, er, maybe I did. But not that much anyway.

I’ve never seen you so furious. And boy, were you scary. I was confused at first because I thought you’d be proud of my fighting prowess, especially when I was fighting for you. But apparently not, I realize now, particularly when the victim was your wife.

Newlyweds. Again. Sigh.

Why is it that I am always hounded by them? They never do me any good. Now I feel so stupid. I see how competing for your love may prove futile because you’ve already given your heart to another. I see now that you were kind to me, not because you liked me back, but because you are basically just that—kind. And sweet… and gentle… and sexy… stop! What am I thinking? I can’t go back there again. Not yet anyway. Erase, erase, erase.

I am so sorry that I caused you and your wife some distress. Okay, a LOT of distress. I don’t blame you for not wanting to see me. So to ease your pain a little, I am leaving for awhile. Well, I don’t really have that much choice after you had me evicted from my beloved apartment of 7 years now, do I? I just hope that with time and space, you’d learn to forgive me and smile at me again the next time we cross paths.

And believe me, we will cross paths. For even though you cast me so easily aside just like this, my love is strong enough for both of us. I understand that you don’t see or welcome that now because you’re clouded by the intoxicating romance of young love. But it will fade. It always does. I’ve seen this pattern time and again. Why do you think your predecessors in that apartment no longer live there? They had one big messy annulment that’s why.

And when your time comes for that, I’ll be there, waiting to comfort you in my arms. You’ll see her for the shrew that she is and realize that no woman could ever be as loyal as I and love you the way that I can. Yes, she may have won the battle but the war is far from over.

For now, I’ll leave you to your peace. A wise woman knows when to fight and when to retreat. But this I promise you, I shall return.

Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow.

Always yours,
The CatWoman who’s no longer in the House

P.S. I didn’t know the view from the roof could be so awesome. The stars make me think of you, sweet prince.


--SunStar Weekend, 04 December 2010

The Art of War by Baby Allen

In life, we learn to pick our battles. Some things we can choose to ignore like maybe the sound of our biological clock ticking like a bomb (hey, it’s not as toxic as it seems); or the approach of the firing squad on Valentine’s Day (let them pass and wave); or even the never-ending ‘Word War’ among our leaders (just tune it out). They may be loud, yes, but important enough to affect World Peace? Not really. As Dr. Richard Carlson would say, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.”

There are times, though, that we need to fight – for love, our passion, or whatever it is we deem worth fighting for. We might not win every battle, but when we do choose to fight, we must at least kick some ass.

When I was in kindergarten, I met my very first bully. He was one of the neighborhood “tambays” who found it amusing to taunt me with tales of “kapre”, “tikbalang” and “aswang”, which were all supposedly poised to come get me at night if I wasn’t careful. He scared me so much that it wasn’t long before I started to believe he was one of them. Just the sight of him would send me running home. One time, I was playing with my friends in broad daylight when I saw him approaching with an evil grin. Frightened out of my wits, I made a sharp turn and banged myself on the pavement. Angry, humiliated, and with two freshly skinned knees, I did what any 5-year old girl would do in my position… I launched into very loud, high-pitched, nonstop screaming. I could’ve split a coconut tree in two and wouldn’t have noticed. I was beyond myself.

I don’t know if it was the surprise or the not knowing how to shut me up before an adult came along, but the bully eventually freaked out and turned around. His retreat did it for me. I took off after him, and the rest of my playmates followed. He ran, probably thinking we intended to beat the crap out of him. Of course we couldn’t. But since then, he no longer bothered me.

That was kindergarten. As I grew older, I learned different (more “mature”, if you like) styles of fighting as well – be it mental or physical. Contrary to what fairy tales might lead us to believe, not every girl still waits for a Knight in Shining Armor. Nowadays, when a damsel is in distress, she empowers herself by going to class and learning a few skills of her own – kickboxing, wushu, kung fu, karate, even wrestling or what-have-you.

Some might even hire a coach or travel as far as Hong Kong or China to find their Yoda.

For me though, the most fascinating fighting styles I learned came from watching children. If you’ve ever tried babysitting multiple kids, you’d know what I mean. And even babies, wow (Note to DOT: I just love this word), they may not weigh much, but you’ve got to respect them for their fighting spirit.

In fact, here are a few interesting techniques I picked up from my then barely one-year-old adorable nephew Allen:

1. Study and imitate.

I was playing the monster game with baby Allen. I scrunched up my face into my most witchy and ugly countenance -- teeth bared and lips drawn back into a snarl -- fully expecting baby Allen to scamper away in fright. But did it happen? No. He just sat there staring at me for the longest time. Not even a smile or a squeal to give me a thrill. Feeling like a fool, I went back to my room. When I came out a few minutes later, there he was outside the door, roaring and scaring me off with his own monster rendition. Wow! (You can picture it, right?) I was nonplussed.

2. When you fall on your butt, stand up and try again. And again, and again, till you get it right.

3. Be resourceful, use what you have. If they trap your hands, use your feet-- or teeth for that matter.

4. Laugh when you're happy, give a hug when you're pleased, cry when you're not, and scream when you're mad. People are bound to give you what you want when they know where you stand.

5. Reach high and aim high. The rewards are usually better. Given a choice between the toy on the floor and the one on the shelf, Allen always went for the latter. It didn’t take him long to learn how to stand, isn't that great? Wow! (I know, I know—just can’t help using that word again)

6. When all else fails, scream. People will come running to help you. And after expending the energy required for that screaming marathon, you sleep better afterwards.

7. Easily forgive and forget. Nobody will pick you up if you're at war with everybody.

8. Above all, SMILE. That way, they'll never know what you're up to.


-- SunStar Weekend, 20 November 2010

Reality Bites

At some point in our lives, we’re expected to leave home and be “independent”. My history teacher used to say that this period is particularly significant because it is when we learn the art of hunting and picking food on our own. In his early 20s, my older brother moved to another island and adopted the vegan lifestyle for a time. My friend Orleyne went to Saipan and trailed the path of a wine connoisseur. Two years ago, my friend MD also flew to Korea and learned to love kimchi. In my and my sister’s case, however, it was our parents who left us home – forcing us to be independent and to fend for ourselves.

By the time I graduated from college, my parents’ move to their new house by the beach was already complete. They did it so gradually over my last couple of years in school that I hardly noticed it. The way some furniture and appliances disappeared bit by bit should have sent the bells ringing. But when you have a thesis to think of, most things just fade away.

“Girls, we’ll be transferring the big TV to the new house. We’ll just trade in a new, smaller one, okay?” I now remember Mami asking us.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go, go,go,” I mumbled as my eyes remained glued to the PC screen, trying to reconstruct bar graphs and make sense of statistical boink-ilations. “Who has time to watch TV anyway?”

Up to now I still can’t believe I said that. But my Mami swears by it so I can’t argue my way to repossessing the big TV back now that the thesis-tical fog has long cleared. Sneaky is what they are (I love you mom, pops).

And then, some of the kitchen utensils, clocks, linens, and what-else too said bye-bye. But it never really hit us until one day, my sister and I stood before our ref (thank God it’s too big to move miles away) and discovered all the food was gone!

Resigned to the fact that our Mami has defected to another camp, go to the grocery store ourselves, we did. We tried. My sister and I really tried. But our first attempt at domestic survival 101 was a disaster and that, apparently, set a precedent to our other expeditions to grocery land. I don’t know, but we always seem to end up with too much junk food and not enough ingredients for a home-cooked meal.

Okay, so we’re not too hot on the kitchen department. Good thing for us, there are still TV, billboards, and friends to clue us in on the Generation X Survival Kit.

Table of Contents: FOOD … turn to page three.

There it is! The subtitles: Instant Cuisine (i.e. pancit canton, canned food, oatmeal, choco/coffee mix, etc.); Take-Out (i.e. Jollibee drive-thru; Dim sum and then some); Order-out (i.e. KFC, pizza, pizza, pizza); and Dining Out (i.e Welcome to Ayala Mall… I love you more today than yesterdaaaay….)

And then, when reality bites, there’s the comforting Gen-X Menu, carefully crafted and passed on from one clueless food hunter to another of this generation.

The Gen-X Menu is a product of years of research, trial and error, and copying each other’s eating habits. For the benefit of those neophytes to independent life, let me share with you a portion of this menu. Perhaps, it’ll help make your adjustment a little easier. I make no guarantees. It may not pass the standards of today’s culinary artists but, I tell you, it’s fast and easy (Gen X’s mantra) to put together. Just add water, chill, or simply mix and match. Some may be tempted to brand it as weird but I call it simply an exotic mix. As for side effects, all I can say is -- I still don’t have any ulcer and my bowel movement remains relatively fine. Safe enough? So go, be adventurous. Have a few bites of the Gen-X Menu at your own risk. Here are some personal favorites:

Appetizers
Ripe banana dipped in yummy peanut butter
Steamed banana slathered with cheez whiz
Ripe banana topped with dried fish (from Fritz)
Green mangoes topped with shrimp paste

Soup
Nesvita milk cereal
Fresh milk with coco crunch

Main Course
Lucky Me pancit canton with skyflakes
Lucky Me pancit canton with Spanish bread
Lucky Me pancit canton with chicharon
Lucky Me pancit canton with fried/grilled fish

Milo (powder variety) mixed with white rice (from Maya and Louie)
Barbecue-flavored Chippy with white rice (from Ever)
Super cold leftover spaghetti
Canned tuna with crackers

Dessert
Black coffee with flavored French fries (try sour cream and cheese)
Black coffee with Cadbury chocolates (not to be mixed)
Hot tea with frozen yogurt
San Mig Strong Ice with semi-frozen cheesecake
Vodka Ice with DJ Mix

Of course, we’ll grow out of this menu eventually. Either we break down and visit our folks more often for some real food, or our bodies break down and we’re forced to submit to a healthier lifestyle. But till then, aahhh-cheeww!

-- SunStar Weekend, 23 October 2010

Hey, Dude (3)

Part 3: if I were a boy…

In recent issues of Cosmopolitan magazine, I found pages of stylish women power dressing like men. There’s the Corporate Girl in classic red tie, vested blouse and loafers; the Sporty Equestrienne in leather pants, black vest and hard hat; and the Football Fierce in shorts, knee-high socks and booties. Not bad. Which leads me to wonder, if women nowadays can wear men’s clothes and shoes, would it be as easy to actually walk in them?

As much as I love being a girl, there are days when I think about how cool it would be to go into this alternate universe where there’s no obsessive talk about men, makeup or getting fat. Just imagine the sheer bliss of going shirtless on a hot summer day; or playing a bloody, senseless game like rugby just because you’ve got balls; or of turning suddenly dense in the face of a woman gone mad. Aaahh.

If I were a boy, even just for a day, maybe I’d do as Beyonce would. You know, “roll out of bed in the morning and throw on what I wanted and go; or drink beer with the guys, and chase after girls…” (there now, no need to finish the song.)

But then again, who wants to be typical? More than that, perhaps, I’d take my cue from the cool inspiring dudes who’ve made their mark in history. So if I were a boy, I would:

Learn how to dance like Patrick Swayze
There’s nothing sexier than a man who knows how to hold and move her woman. As a young girl I was mesmerized by Patrick Swayze dancing like the wind in the ‘80’s smash hit “Dirty Dancing”. I remember thinking-- so a man can be beautiful, graceful and a total jock at the same time? Wow. Since then, no matter how they annoy me, I try not to underestimate what men can do.

Lead with compassion like Nelson Mandela
If not for the movie “Invictus”, I wouldn’t have known the depth of Nelson Mandela, particularly his compassion, empathy and tolerance as he championed the cause of fairness or justice for all. Mandela was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for the role he played to end Apartheid and establish the foundation for a peaceful transition to a democracy in South Africa. He was confined in a maximum security prison for some years before he was elected president in the first free elections for all races in South Africa. I find inspiration in his words, "It always seems impossible until it is done" and "After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb."

Face my Goliath like King David
One man’s faith in God caused him to look at a giant from a different perspective. The Philistine giant Goliath was recorded to measure over nine feet tall and yet, David, probably just a young teenager at the time, had the heart to look at the bigger picture. Who would have thought that a single slingshot could kill one’s giant fear? Call him crazy, but for a man of great faith, nothing is impossible.

Play ball like Michael Jordan
Michael Jordan, in my opinion, is probably the greatest basketball player who ever lived. He led the Bulls to six NBA championships; was named Most Valuable Player in the NBA Finals six times; became one of the highest pointers in NBA history with a scoring average of 30.12 per game, reportedly the most ever. Besides, who hasn’t seen him fly? Or was that the shoes? Check! The real question is though: what put Michael Jordan at the top of his game? A couple of insights from his interviews: Michael Jordan found something he’s truly passionate about and, more strikingly, he wasn’t afraid to fail. To quote him, “I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed."

Lay my heart on the line like Shakespeare in love
To have written that many love sonnets and plays, be it tragic or comedic, Shakespeare’s got one brave, romantic soul. He wasn’t afraid to lay it out for the world to see. From his words, we taste the many flavors of love: be it Bittersweet – “Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, that one short minute gives me in her sight” (Romeo & Juliet); Sour – “Love goes by haps; Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps” (Much Ado About Nothing); Hot – "I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip" (Othello); or Spicy – “The course of true love never did run smooth” (A Midsummer Night's Dream).

Strive to be better like Mahatma Gandhi
You’ll be surprised to learn that Mahatma Gandhi used to be a shy and introverted boy who refused to stay back after school to interact with his classmates for fear of being laughed at. He’s also been described as a “young timid lawyer”. Gandhi himself said, “I claim to be no more than an average man with less than average abilities.”And yet, Gandhi went on to become one of the most respected spiritual and political leaders of the 20th century. History tells he helped free the Indian people from British rule through nonviolent resistance (ahimsa), and is honored by his people as the Father of the Indian Nation. It is said that Gandhi dedicated his life to discovering truth, learning from his own mistakes and conducting experiments on himself. In fact he called his autobiography “The Story of My Experiments with Truth.” Gandhi stated that the most important battle he had to fight was overcoming his own demons, fears, and insecurities. But Gandhi had the firm conviction that all people possess the innate capability to change from within, in the pursuit of what’s right.

Let’s face it, as girls would be quick to point out, no man is perfect. But then, I believe there are also enough great men around to not lose hope. “If I were a boy”, as Beyonce sings, I’d learn from them and be a better man.

--SunStar Weekend, 09 October 2010

HEY, DUDE (2)

Part 2: Lost in Translation

Ever feel like you need a translator when talking to a guy? Well, I do sometimes. I admit, for all my communications training, I still can't decode manspeak (well, most of it anyway). Can you? I bet a lot of us are no stranger to these baffling conversations:

The Simple Girl
She Says: So what type of girl would you like to go out with?
He Says: I want a girl who’s ‘simple’.
She says: Define please. Simple could mean “retarded”, you know.
H e says: Simple, as in, not complex
She says: Uh ok, there’s Maria, she’s easygoing enough and agreeable to most things you say.
He says: Yeah, well…
She says: Well, what?
He says: She must be easy on the eyes and know how to dress up, at least.
She says: Oh, she must be pretty and simple then
He says: And financially independent. I don’t like someone clingy. And, and… she must know how to cook
She says: Uh-huh. I sense another “and” coming…
He says: And she must be successful in her career. It’s difficult being with a woman with low self-esteem.
She says: Let me get this straight—you want a successful, intelligent, beautiful woman who can afford her own stuff and cooks for you on the side. And you’re calling her “simple”?! Dream on.

The Breakup
He says: Baby, it’s not you, it’s me.
She Says: Why, is there someone else?
He says: It’s just that, I found my soulmate, my destiny. The universe has spoken. It’s beyond my control.
She says: Soulmate? Who is this soulmate?
He says: Well, she’s 5’5” and got killer abs. She’s sports-minded like me. And oh, she knows how to cook my favorite adobo.
She says: Oh, you mean, someone you’ve always wished I would be. So it is me, you idiot.

The ‘Committed’
He says: My marriage is essentially over.
She says: You mean you and I can finally be together?
He says: Oh no. My marriage was so traumatic, I’m now afraid of commitment.
She says: So you want to stop seeing me?
He says: Not at all. Listen, I can’t offer you commitment, there’s nothing much I can give you right now. Why don’t I make it up to you by cooking you dinner at my place?
She says: Honey, in case you don’t know how to spell --“cooking” is three letters short of “commitment”.

To avoid falling through the cracks of gullibility, I finally enlisted the help of some cosmopolitan guys – let’s just call them “The Dude” -- to decode some of men's most common cryptic statements. If it were up to us girls, you see, we could attach a hundred meanings to a single statement and not be any closer to the truth. So, let’s hear it from the boys:

When He says: "My parents are having this party, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."
The Dude says: "He’s falling in love with you and wants to see how you relate to his family."

When He says: "I'd like to cook you dinner at my place."
The Dude says: "He’d like to show you what a caring, nurturing man he is so that you'll have sex with him."

When He says: "I'll have to check my schedule for next weekend."
The Dude says: “He’s waiting to see if something better comes along."

When He says: "Let's meet at the bar, I'll be there with friends."
The Dude says: “He doesn’t want to give you the wrong idea. You’re not dating.”

When He says: "I would love to be intimate with you, but I don't want it to ruin our friendship."
The Dude says: “Nope, he’s not interested to sleep with you, but since he enjoys your company, he’s letting you down gently.”

When He says: "I meant to call you this weekend, but I lost track of time."
The Dude says: “He didn’t. He just didn't feel like it.”

When He says: "Give me a call sometime."
The Dude says: “He’s not interested enough to chase you, but you can chase him if you want to.”

When He says: "My marriage is essentially over"
The Dude says: “He wants to have an affair”

When He says: "I don't know if I like her."
The Dude says: "He hasn’t slept with her yet"

When He says: "I'm afraid of commitment."
The Dude says: "He’d like to continue sleeping with you, but not if it means he has to stop seeing other women."

When He says: "I've learned a lot from you."
The Dude says: “Uh-oh, he’s thinking ‘next!'"

When He says: "I need time to think about the relationship, but I still love you"
The Dude says: "He’s tired of the relationship and looking for someone who's more of a challenge. But, still, he’ll string you along for the benefits until he finds someone else."

When He says: "We should see other people just so we know we are right for each other."
The Dude says: “He’s interested in someone else. He just doesn’t want you to feel he’s cheating on you.”

When He says, "I need some space and time for myself”
The Dude says, "The relationship is moving too fast. Or you’re smothering him. He’d rather be single.”

When He says, "I am not ready for a serious relationship"
The Dude says: “Are you kidding? Everyone wants to have a great relationship, men included. He’s just not sure yet you are what he’s looking for”

When He says: "It's not you, it's me."
The Dude says: "Believe me, it's you. He cannot handle your weird habits anymore he just does not know how to say it to your face.”

When He says "I don't believe in marriage"
The Dude says, “He’s not going to marry you…ever. He may marry someone else eventually, but not you. Either you enjoy his company for what it is or move on.”

-- SunStar Weekend, 25 September 2010

HEY, DUDE

Part One: What’s Your Label?

When you’re a single girl in the city, it seems that most things, trivial or not, are all about the “dude”. Either they just show up, we hunt them or our well-meaning “committed” friends find them and deliver them to us. Just think of the many hours we spend preparing for a date. Or the precious time we devote on the Internet decoding man-speak or stalking him on Facebook. What about the countless girl sessions singing along Beyonce, “if I were a booooy…I think I could understand…”? Funny how we always seem to be stressing ourselves trying to get over, under, or away from them. It’s exhausting, isn’t it, yet fun at the same time.

What I don’t get though is the fuss about dude labels. Why is it that people are always badgering us to define our relationship with the guys in our lives? Is it exclusive? Do you think you'll marry him? As family and friends would have it, it seems it isn’t acceptable to have an ambiguous, unlabeled relationship with any man after, say, a month.

As much as we would like to provide the proper answer, traditional labels sometimes defy current truth or reality. Especially when relationships involving men outside our family could be as fluid as the evolution of the urban dictionary these days. I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t help but wince or bite my tongue whenever I hear the word “boyfriend.”I don’t know, it just reminds me of high school puppy love or the bubblegum movies of the 80s. Not that I find any of its alternative terms any better. But for the sake of being socially correct, here’s a rundown of 10 relationship labels you might be able to relate to as defined by today’s generation.

BFF or “Best Friends Forever”

They say no heterosexual man and woman can ever be platonic friends. Either one is harboring secret feelings for the other or they’re both in denial. Be that as it may, sometimes, there is that one dude we always go to unload, make sense of all the drama in our life, or lean on after every heartbreak. “It” is not happening because you’ve been friends too long or know each other too well to realize you could easily burn the other to death if the relationship gets too hot. So for better or worse, you’re stuck in the “Friend Zone”.

FB or Friends with Benefits

You text, talk and kiss this guy. You don’t know why but you just do. Getting physically mixed up with him doesn’t mean that you are emotionally attached because you understand that while he’s there for you, he’s also just playing around. So, tit for tat.

Hanging Out or Casually Dating

This is that thing you do with your eating buddy, the co-worker who picks you up and drops you off because you’re along the way anyway, or the guy who invites you for cocktails just because he does not like people to stare when he’s out alone. You enjoy his company but know your world will not stop either if he ceases to exist.

FuBu or the Boy Toy

Sex, sex, sex. That’s all there is to it, really. Enough said.

Exclusively Dating

A term for those wanting to be politically correct without dotting their feelings on the line. He may not be dating anyone else but then, often times, exclusivity is just that and carries no deeper meaning. It doesn’t imply love and it doesn’t imply expectations. Just because he’s not seeing anyone else does not obligate him to be there for you 24/7 or spend a pre-determined amount of time with you.

M.U. for “Mutual Understanding”

For me, a delusional term (has this been phased out yet?) for people who love to assume and assume yet never talk about the real score. You like each other—you “know” it – you just don’t talk about it. No one pops the question, but there’s already an answer in the way you hold hands or cuddle with him. Whatever it is, it’s something vague, something confusing, something gray, something half-baked but nevertheless …something that will do for the moment.

It’s Complicated

Thank Friendster for popularizing and putting this label on the wall. If we were to choose just one encompassing relationship label, I bet this would be it. After all, all relationships are complicated. However, if we were to be specific about it, this mostly refers to a relationship with someone you’re seeing on the sly or sharing with someone else. You love each other but you can’t be together. Or, it could also be you’re forced to be together, but you don’t love each other. Hell yeah, it’s complicated.

In a Relationship

Another politically correct term popularized by social networks, which frankly I find rather cold. Surely, we can be more romantic than this? After all, this is what we look for, hope for, fight for all our lives. Sometimes, we have to go through a lot of crap and crazy things to get to this point. It’s love. It’s magic. It’s what makes or world spin, yet steady at the same time.

Life Partners

You live together, you share a life, but you don't have any intention of getting married. You don't even consider him your boyfriend. What you have is a very powerful relationship, such that you seem content and secure enough not to conform to tradition or labels.

Soulmates

I don’t really understand this term but apparently, the cosmos has something to do with it. Destiny kicks in. You deal with forces beyond your control. Suddenly, you’re helpless against the guy -- enough so that you’d willingly break off with anyone you’re currently involved with. Then you find yourself stuck with the guy in this life. And if fate would have it, in the next few lives even.

So there you go. Find your label? If none of the above suits you, don’t sweat it. When all else fails, we can always just go back to saying, simply, “Hey, dude.”

--SunStar Weekend, 11 September 2010

With This Ring, You Say What?

Now ladies, put your hands up! A guy friend wants to know what that ring on your finger says. Did a man just heed Beyonce’s call and finally “put a ring on it”? Are you now married, engaged? Or could it be that you just have fashionably good taste in jewelry? Wha-oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh...

Nowadays, the meaning of a ring on a lady’s finger is not so clear-cut. Though it seems that most rings begin with a question, you’ll find out it’s not necessarily always “Will you marry me?” Some rings are by nature symbolic. Some may take on meaning depending on the finger the ring is worn. While others just sparkle, like white noise, not saying anything at all.

I guess the key thing here is simply to ask, which I did. So let’s hear it straight from the ladies.

With This Ring, I Say “I Will”

Promise rings are quite common though their meaning change depending on the reason and intention for which they’re given. Personally, these are what I call the innocently doe-eyed virgin rings. They come in many forms. There are the promise rings between good friends, usually worn on the little finger, to show commitment that they will always be there for each other in times of need. Purity rings, given by parents to their children, symbolize a promise from the child to abstain from sexual relationships until marriage. The chastity or abstinence promise ring may be worn by a recovering smoker or alcoholic as a sign of commitment to abstain from vices. And then, I find out, there are also the pre-engagement promise rings (here I can’t help rolling my eyes). The engagement ring, I understand. But to promise today that you will vow to be engaged in the future so you can promise again to love and spend your lives together in the, well, even far future (marriage)… how many promises do you actually need? Could it be that the lady just wants the ring more than the promise? Hmmm.

With This Ring, I Say “I Do”

Or bluntly put to other men, “Yes, I’m taken. Now back off.”
The wedding ring has been around for centuries. Though the practices may vary somewhat in different cultures, practically everyone recognizes the importance of sealing a marriage – and a string of “I dos” – with an exchange of rings. It is said that the most potent and most fundamental symbol of marriage remains a simple band of gold, worn without ornamentation on the ring finger of the left hand. Why that particular finger? Both the ancient Romans and Egyptians believed that a vein - called the vena amoris in Latin - runs directly from that finger to the heart. So in essence that makes it closer to the heart than a ring worn on any other finger.

With This Ring, I Say “Ah!”

Single and looking? Well, they’re now putting a ring on it, baby. In fact, currently circulating online is what you call the “Ah” Ring, which supposedly stands for “available and happy”. It looks like a silver band sprinkled with diamonds and is meant to be worn on the pinky. Apparently, some companies like D Jewelry Co. now offer rings to celebrate one’s singlehood. The online site MySingleRing.com even claims that those who wear its rings project to the world: “I am an intelligent, empowered individual and available to meet the same.”

With This Ring, I Say “Aaarrghh”

It may not directly apply in this country but I am fascinated by the news abroad that the resale market for used engagement and wedding rings is actually booming. Ever heard of the online auction web sites IDoNowIDont.com and ExBoyfriendJewelry.com? It is said that more and more divorced women are reconfiguring their wedding rings to “help facilitate healing.” A company which sells divorce rings uses the tag line: “Building self-esteem one person at a time.”

And then for frustrated ladies with stalkers who just don’t take the hint, apparently they say it now with the “Ms. Taken” ring. It’s an engagement-ring look-alike that you can slip on when needed to zap pushy guys into oblivion. Yes, just like Darna.

With This Ring, I Say “I Can”

I’ve been told often enough that I should find a man to buy me diamonds. I don’t agree but I just usually nod and smile politely. After all, they’ll never understand me when I say: why should I? I prefer rubies.

When I was old enough to buy my own jewelry, I asked to know what piece a lady should first have in her collection. Most of my girlfriends agree that it should either be pearl earrings or a pair of diamond studs. I believe though that the most important piece that a beginner should invest on is her birthstone. It’s been said that wearing a birth stone gives off a certain kind of power and calmness and that it attracts good health and fortune. So naturally, being July-born, the first piece of jewelry I bought was a ruby ring. With it, it’s quite liberating to say that yes, I can pick my own rock; that I can afford to buy it; that I can enjoy it without the fear of losing it—after all, no one bought it for me so I know it’s never gonna haunt me in the form of a disgruntled giver saying, “You lost it. Don’t you love me anymore?” (sheesh); and that now I can finally use this line without flinching, “Hey, it’s not you, it’s me”

In the hit song “Single Ladies”, Beyonce drives home the point over and over “If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.” All this time I thought she was just berating a man for being too chicken to commit. Perhaps, I wasn’t listening closely. Now I know she’s talking to us ladies too. If we like it, then why not put a ring on it? Oh yeah, we can. Wha-oh-oh. (Say it to me at aileen.quijano@gmail.com)


--SunStar Weekend, 28 August 2010

A Day to ‘Eat, Pray, Love’

Every year, it becomes more of a challenge to celebrate one’s birthday. Aside from the fact that there’s no stopping the candles from adding up, there comes a point in your life when blowing another birthday cake, popping balloons or throwing another cocktail party just doesn’t do the trick anymore. So what then?

Recently, a dear friend surprised me with a birthday gift-- Elizabeth Gilbert’s bestselling book “Eat, Pray, Love”. As many of us must have known by now (thanks to the massive pre-pub of the upcoming movie version with no less than Julia Roberts as the lead), it’s the non-fiction story of a middle-aged writer who packs up her entire life and takes it on the road to find pleasure in Italy, devotion in India, and balance in Indonesia. I was so moved by it all that it felt like an answer from heaven. Wouldn’t it just be grand to experience that kind of journey and self-reinvention on one’s birthday?

I do realize that not everyone is lucky enough to be able to travel around the world at any given time – like Elizabeth Gilbert – to find meaning, lick one’s wounds or simply celebrate. Especially not when you have a day job that can only give you a 24-hour reprieve. Still, I was inspired enough to believe that if one has a mind to, it shouldn’t matter where we are, we can pursue anything we want right here, right now. So for this year, I decided to junk the parties and permit myself to try something new for a day– to eat, pray, love right here in my beloved city. And this time – not unlike Elizabeth Gilbert, in solitude.

EAT

On my birthday, I wake up with a smile, dreaming of food. In Cebu, the good choices are endless. Among my personal favorites are Café Marco’s hands-down unbelievable international buffet, Sunburst Chicken, Tsim Sha Tsui’s shrimp balls with Malacca fried rice, and Nonki’s crispy fried Ebi tempura.
While my current brand of poison is Bistro Ecila’s plain margarita and the occasional Don Barosso’s semi-sweet red wine at the Wine Shop, for comfort I usually turn to Potato Corner’s sour n’ cream-flavored french fries or a pint of Nestle’s extra creamy ube ice cream. And then to tie it up with a Red Ribbon—who can resist its rich chocolate mousse?

I am drooling by the time I get to the door. But just as I’m about ready to go and gluttonize, I get sidetracked by the sweet smell of Julie’s hot mongo ensaymada and cheese bread in my neighborhood. It’s been a long time since I breathed in this sweet aroma from my childhood days, back when my cousin Liz and I would sneak out of the house, buy bread with our meager coins and take turns cooking Lucky Me pancit canton.

On impulse, I buy some. I find bananas, another childhood favorite, in a nearby fruit stand and buy again. Then I go back home to recreate my favorite meal – freshly-cooked pancit canton with hot bread, sweet banana coated in peanut butter and cheese spread, along with a glass of apple juice.

Thinking of comfort food, I suddenly miss my mother’s homemade chicken adobo. Ahh, now that, I believe, is something I wouldn’t exchange for anything. Not even for a transcendent slice of Italy’s famous pizza. The moment I realize this, I am instantly filled with gratitude. For my childhood-- the remembrance that some of the best things in life could be as simple as hot bread and pancit canton. And then for my mother-- the comfort of knowing that the best food is just a phone call away.


PRAY

In the city, my house is centered enough to be surrounded by churches. From the terrace, I can see the twin towers of Redemptorist Church and hear the clanging bells of Asilo. For a quick ride, there’s Sacred Heart chapel towards south and the newly-erected Mormon temple in the opposite direction. And then there’s a Christian fellowship in Ayala just a short walk away.

It should have been easy enough, but I guess, I’m just not what you might call a religious person. Allow me to say at this point that I do not mean to offend anyone with my choices. I have a long way to go yet in my spiritual journey. But if I were to remain true to myself and my God, I ought to acknowledge my truths at present: I pray best not on my knees, but rather cross-legged in a garden or barefoot on a deserted beach, looking out to sea- my personal reminder of God’s deep, unfathomable love. I don’t go to Confession but I wrestle with God when I swim on a river, run in the sports Oval, or cry in one of the city’s parks. And on special days, like my birthday, I find more meaning in lighting a candle than hearing mass. More than entering a temple or an ashram in India perhaps, I would rather just go out and plant a tree or find a quiet corner and meditate on God’s love in its many forms – the dimpled laughter of my seven-year-old nephew, my mother’s adobo, or even the awakening of a budding rose. That’s just me, not perfect yet, but believing in faith I will be in God’s time.

LOVE

After a full meal and a quiet time of prayer, I change into a cuter outfit and take myself out on a date in the city. As a special treat, I surrender to a good Thai massage near my place. I figure I need more color in my world, so I go to David’s Salon for a long overdue mani-pedi then book an appointment with Alex of Bridges Avant-Garde for a hair makeover. Oh, I look good. I feel good. As I strut along Ayala Mall, I can’t stop humming, “I love you more today than yesterdaaaay, but not as much as tomorrow…”

Then, when you’re feeling this happy, a funny thing happens-- you want the world to be happy too. Like an open pipeline, your joy simply overflows that now you’re thinking of ways to give back on both ends. Such as maybe give an hour’s worth of salary to Children’s Hour, pick up your trash, or help someone build a home. That’s the great thing about love. Once you feel it, it just spreads and grows. You can’t contain it. At the end of the day, maybe that’s all we really need to feel and stay blessed—to eat, pray, love on our birthday and the days to come.


-- SunStar Weekend, 14 August 2010

Sleepless in Seattle’s Best

It was 10:00 o’clock on a Thursday night and, not so strangely, we were eating breakfast in Seattle’s Best. Movie buddy Jan and I needed a good kick to resurface back to the real world, and we found it – sweet heaven – in the rich selection of ham and cheese omelet, french toast, corned beef, toasted bread and two mugs of steaming café mocha.

Earlier that night, we were plugged (almost like Neo in The Matrix) for more than two hours in a separate world, bodies strapped down securely with jumbo fries to the cinema seat, while we crusaded into the different realities of Christopher Nolan’s latest movie blockbuster – Inception.

In the film, Leonardo DiCaprio plays Dom Cobb, a professional thief whose talents involve delving deep into a person's mind to extract valuable secrets while he or she is in a dream state. The movie has enough layers of complexity that we're never quite sure what plane of experience we're standing on exactly. It was quite easy to lose ourselves in the startling visions of a fabricated maze or city, of Paris turning on top of itself, of floating bodies and iced mountains as Leo and his team moved through another person’s multileveled dream.

“Talk about ‘Sleeping on the Job’” Jan quipped. I swallowed quickly and laughed. “Yeah, he’s got to have the best job ever. But is it even possible?”

What strikes me most about the movie is the notion that while we are asleep, we can actually create an alternate world of reality without realizing we're doing it. That dreams, very much like movies, could bring out laughter, horror, pain, redemption, and even sometimes unlock the key to something we’ve been searching for. It gives us a chance to step outside of the box and create an alternate world for us to play in for awhile. How cool is the human mind?

Curious, I put down my fork and googled about dreams. From Wikipedia, I gathered four interesting types –the False Awakening (a vivid dream about waking up from sleep, also called a "double dream" or a "dream within a dream"); the Lucid Dream (one in which the dreamer has been aware of dreaming); Continuum (the subject falls asleep in real life, but in the dream following, the brain simulates the subject as though they were still awake. Think: Nightmare on Elm Street); and Simulated Reality (what we perceive as reality is an illusion).

Munching on eggs, I had a thought: what if, in truth, we were all just sleeping? Like what the movie Inception seems to suggest, what if our existing reality is just one big dream? What if the coffee shop I was sitting on was simply a figment of my imagination, born out of my need to prolong the dream of Inception? Absentmindedly, I raised my cup and took a sip. The coffee seared my tongue. Hot, hot.

In Eastern philosophy it is stated that the world we experience and the life we live are the reflections of our thoughts. Thus the world is simply an illusion- “Maya”, they call it. By changing our thoughts, we change the illusion and experience a different reality.

Do we buy it? Knock, knock. Maybe it's time to rethink about truth, perception and reality as we know it. If reality is defined as the composition of truths, then perception, after all, is what fuels truth.

In the movies, it only takes about 20 minutes to get over a broken heart; another 30 to build an empire or rise from the ashes of pain; less than two hours to recognize true love. And for those few minutes we sit in the dark, entranced by the power of this reality, we consider these as truth. Just like dreams when we sleep. How convenient, isn’t it, for it all to be in the mind?

In that brief moment I chewed and swallowed my last piece of toast, I considered letting go of this world, my present, to sleep and live for alternate dreams. What of me to choose immortality like Bella, or to weave magic like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice; or to spar with the Firebender? Would it be the experience of a lifetime, or would I just find myself in limbo and discover I don’t really exist, after all, like that clueless character of Nicole Kidman in the movie “The Others”? If I continue to sleep, will my family and friends still be real or just be mere projections of my need for comfort and love?

I shuddered at these last thoughts. Just then, I felt myself gasping for a sense of the familiar. I had the sudden urge to indulge in pure sensation. Like that hot coffee, I needed truth to bite me on the tongue once more. Better yet, I needed to taste and feel the shifting dreams melt in my mouth. Suddenly I knew – to complement that big breakfast in Seattle’s, I’ve got to have some of Gelatissimo’s pistachio ice cream next door before I sleep.

Still wide awake, we slowly walked home under the blanket of the midnight sky. I swirled my tongue on the melting ice cream just as the wind blew droplets of rain into my face. I looked up. The world was drizzling – both rain and possibilities. I felt the wings of joy ran through my spine as I recognized then that this world was the reality I’ve chosen. Rich. Full. Crazy. Beautiful. I realized then, all those dreams and movies, no matter how good they may be (even those in 3D) – are just mere shadows of my reality.

I licked my pistachio ice cream once more. Mmm, yes, something this good couldn’t be a dream. Still I pinched my palm and gave myself a good smack on the head…just in case. Then for good measure, I punched Jan in the arm, too. Just in case.


--SunStar Weekend, 31 July 2010

Road Trip

To escape the heat of summer, my friend purpledsky tweeted us girls on a Friday, “Road trip tomorrow. Be ready at 9am sharp.” It was last minute and as vague as a cloud on a hot summer day. But it never crossed my mind to say no.

I just love the spontaneity of jumping into a car and cruising a few hundred miles to wherever. Oh to explore new towns, visit amazing vistas and chase sunsets! And then in Cebu, no matter where you go, there’s always a cool mountain or beach resort waiting to refresh you down the road.

Immediately, my brain shifted into high gear. There are some important rituals that make a road trip worthwhile. One, pack up - remember less is more so think light layers, swim suits, extra undies, flip flops. Two, cover up -- i.e. sunglasses and sunblock. Three, load up on the munchies. And four, bring on the music - get a good soundtrack like GLEE going to set the mood for a great trip.

TRACK 1: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, she took the midnight train going anywhere…

Where to go – North or South? Sometimes, it's good to know where you’re going. More often though, it’s not too important. Usually, we travel not to go anywhere, but simply to go, to move.

In our case, 01jan01 just wanted to go to any beach and cool off; purpledsky was revved to celebrate her birthday outside the city; bongkie craved to eat lechon; me, I just wanted to go where I haven’t been to before.

So fate decided for us. North was full, so South we go. Destination: Alcoy.

TRACK 2: Ahhh ice, ice baby…

Before getting out of the city, there are two stops you shouldn’t miss: the gas station and the convenience store beside it. Loading up on munchies and drinks is a must-do in any road trip. When in doubt what to bring, remember the rule: travel light and easy. So you can’t go wrong with the monosyllabic items like chips, dip, beer and ice. Lots and lots of ice.

TRACK 3: I’m riding in your car, you turn on the radio; You pullin’ me close, I just say no; I say I don’t like it but you know I’m a L-I-A-R; ‘Cause when we kiss oooohhh F-I-R-E…

Some of us-- give or take an hour-- usually fall asleep on a road trip. Which is a pity since Cebu’s South Coastal trail is actually a sight to behold. A good way of staying awake without using any drug is either to flirt with your boyfriend, keep a lively conversation going (showbiz gossip will do) or better yet -- crank up the music, roll down the window, and sing really loudly with your friends.

And because we did sing along to the popular tunes of Glee blasting in the car, I did not miss the city mayor’s controversial billboard “tweets” to the governor as we whizzed past the SRP, nor did I close my eyes to the sight of fire trees exploding in reds and oranges, the acacia trees and coconut plantations further down south.

TRACK 4: It’s my life, it’s now or never, I just wanna live forever, I just wanna “eat” while I’m alive…

So you’ve made a pact to yourself to cut down on red meat, avoid eating junk or stop eating too much. In the city, you’re on a roll with your new healthy lifestyle. You preach it, you live it, you boast about it to your friends.

But then, when you reach the town of Carcar, you’ll find that all bets are off. For how on earth does one resist the juicy Zugbuchon or crunchy Chicharon of Carcar? How do you stop yourself from bingeing? You eat at your own risk. For sure there’d be hell to pay at the gym once the road trip is over. But since it’s so worth it, I’ll take that chance.

TRACK 5: Left a good job in the city; Workin for the man every night and day; Big wheel keep on turnin’, proud Mary keep on burnin’; And we’re Rollin’, Rollin’, Rollin’ on a River…

Half the fun of a road trip is also stopping where you feel like it. Because most resorts would charge us corkage to bring in food, we decided to eat our takeout lechon somewhere… nice. And lo, along the roadside of Alcoy, there is a beautiful white sand beach partly hidden by boulders. So we stopped and set up a picnic table. We ate and toasted the blue sea like an old friend. In high spirits, we joined the local boys playing beach volleyball on the makeshift net. Barefoot, we spiked, jumped and rolled on the sand. We were a mess and it was a challenge to hear the local boys speak, but roll we did!

TRACK 6: Something has changed within me, something is not the same…

The group was finally quiet as we ate breakfast in Bodo’s Bamboo Bar Resort in Alcoy, overlooking the sea on one side and opening to the mountains on the other. It was so peaceful and beautiful that, for a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s possible for a city girl to build a life there somewhere.

As we watched magpies darting from one tree to the next, bravely defying gravity, a thought occurred to me. Perhaps it’s not the destination after all, but the journey. A road trip, like a way of life, is about letting your soul fly free on an open road. It’s about pushing back the limits of your horizon, experiencing as much as you can and somehow expanding your world. Sometimes the road takes you to new unexpected places. And if you’re lucky, you’ll find moments of GLEE along the way.


--SunStar Weekend, 05 June 2010

of politics and handbags

I confess -- I hate shopping as much as I hate picking political candidates. Somehow, you always end up with long debates, too many brands and the same lousy merchandise you bought six years ago packaged in a different color.

But then, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. A friend of mine is getting married this month with an unusual wedding theme, so I need new shoes and a new handbag to go with my new dress. To add to the stress, May 10 elections are coming up and I haven’t even completed my lineup yet. Both events call for change and educated choices. With no time to waste, I’ve gotta go shopping.

One of my favorite shopping partners is my cousin Maya-babes. She has this enviable way of cutting through crap, finding gold in the most unlikely places, and zeroing on the actual value of a particular item.

One time, while deliberating a 3K red handbag in Rustan’s, she taught me this shopping trick. “Think of it this way, darling,” she purrs. “How often do you think you’re going to wear that piece?” About three times a week, maybe. “How long before you get bored with it?” A year? “Okay, that’s 52 weeks times three equals 156. Divide that with the net price.” I take out my calculator. Php 19.25 per wear. Not bad. When put like that, not bad at all. “Voila! There you have it, bag it up.”

Calculating for the political value of each candidate may not be as easy though. After all, the cost of human error in the grand scheme of things remains a mystery.

But through the years, I’ve managed to pick a few lessons here and there that make decision-making or shopping less of a headache. When it comes to clothes, makeup or bags, I’ve learned to ask myself intelligent questions, which I believe, also run parallel when choosing our candidates:

Does it inspire me?
A cute handbag calls for a cuter outfit. No use parading it with your crappy sandals, right? At the very least, the new things we buy should inspire us to look our very best. Just as we need leaders who can motivate us to be better Filipinos, to be the best at what we do given the right resources.

Can it stand under pressure?
In this country, you’ll never know when it gets too hot or wet. Our choice must be strong enough to withstand the elements or be worse for tear. A car brand recently got recalled because it could not perform in ice-cold places. Untested candidates also usually end up in the junkyard.

Does it offer something new?
Let’s face it, we’re creatures of habit. Trust my sister, when left shopping on her own, to buy the same kind of shirt in four different colors. I also have a gay friend who keeps picking the same type of X-men. I had the same hairstyle for 10 years. What we need are new ideas. We need creative leaders who can challenge us to evolve and perhaps think outside the box.

Can I afford it?
Be it as trivial as a handbag or as serious as electing a candidate into office, give it some thought. Remember, whichever choices we make, we always pay the price.


--SunStar Weekend, 08 May 2010

Girl in the Mirror

I watch her eyes sweep through her 5’2” frame. She takes a quarter turn, looks over her shoulder and scrutinizes her sleeveless arms, butt and legs. She frowns as she steps on the weighing scale for the 3rd time that week: 125 lbs. She looks me in the eye for a moment and then I hear her sing, “Gotta make a change for once in my life. It's gonna feel real good, gonna make a difference, gonna make it right…”

I see her changing into sweat pants, an old shirt and Nike shoes I’ve never seen before. She goes inside the gym. She warms up. She tries to reach for her toes and winces in pain. She steps on the treadmill and walks for 10, pause, 20 minutes. She jogs for another 10.

“You don’t have time for this,” I tell her. “How can you leave your work behind?” She stumbles but catches herself in time. Glaring at me, she proceeds to the stationary bicycle and starts pumping with her feet. She groans. I mock her, “See? Way less painful to tackle those reports than do that.”

Defiantly, she picks a pair of pink-colored weights and flexes her arms. Next her abs. Inhale, exhale… she cries out in pain. “You’re crazy,” I tell her. “Stop torturing yourself.”

After an hour, she stops. She goes to the weighing scale. I laugh at her, “You really think you’re going to lose pounds after one session?”

Nor did she lose pounds after a month. She goes to the gym three times a week and checks her weight as often. I can feel her frustration. “Give it up,” I tell her, “You’re suffering for nothing.”

She ignores me and works out even harder. She ups her cardio time and stretches herself some more. I have to admit her body is starting to look more toned now, but I don’t tell her that. I watch her twist and turn on the floor. I wonder why she would prefer to be stuck in the gym at this hour when she can be out with her friends at the mall, sharing a bucket of GPS and Yellow Cab’s New York’s Finest.

I sneer, “You’re doing this for a man, aren’t you?” She blushes. I knew it. Typical, oh so typical.

Before long, I see the Man in the mirror. I look at his form and decide, not bad. He picks up the girl. They decide to go out for dinner. She checks herself in the mirror. I know what she’s thinking. Is she pretty? Is she thin enough? I never quite understand why girls in this dimension and age always calculate beauty in terms of pounds. As for the girl, she has lost only a measly pound after two months of working out. But I tell her fondly anyway, “You’re beautiful.” She beams.

I see the girl less and less in the gym. Then she is gone for a long time. On a Saturday night, she comes back. I wake up to find her staring at the mirror with swollen eyes and tears streaking her face. Alarmed, I ask her, “What happened girl?” She just cries some more. She bawls, she screams, she sleeps.
I don’t see the Man in the mirror anymore so I take the hint.

After a while, I get bored looking at her getting ugly as days pass. I ask her to change her ways. I tell her, “You’ve got to stand up and lift yourself now. You’ve got to move, girl. Move on.”

Maybe it’s habit. Perhaps, she knows no other way to fill her time. But eventually she changes into her sweat pants and old shirt, climbs on the treadmill and starts running again. The air dries her tears. For days, she runs. As I watch her pick up the bloody weights once more, I wince and tell her straight, “You don’t have to do that now. With you crying a river, moping around and missing meals-- you’ve kissed more than enough pounds goodbye.” She ignores me. She doesn’t go to the weighing scale to confirm.

“Are you doing this to impress someone again?” She does not answer. My cynical self keep waiting for another man to appear in the mirror and whisk the girl away once more. But weeks pass and there was just the girl sweating, stretching, and sometimes, swearing on the floor.

I begin to understand that this time she’s doing this for no one else but herself. She runs to heal. She lifts dumbbells to make herself stronger. She stretches her body to conquer her limits. She works out to make herself better.

Slightly panting, she lifts her body and faces me in the mirror. Her face is flushed, her hair and white shirt are soaking wet. But oh, her eyes are clear and no longer troubled. She smiles triumphantly. In that moment, I tell her honestly, “Girl, I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”

I follow her to the treadmill. This time, I run with her.


--SunStar Weekend, 24 April 2010

catching up

Over brewed coffee and cranberry juice in Starbucks Ayala Terraces, long time BFF Emi and I were catching up on each others’ lives. Although we practically live on the same avenue, we haven’t seen each other in six months.

I’ve almost forgotten she was pregnant and due to deliver her baby in two weeks. She’s forgotten that I write a column every other weekend, and not weekdays, in this paper. But even so, we’ve been through enough drama and insane moments in our growing up years to understand each other and easily pick up where we left off.

After about an hour of obsessive discussion on the new chapters of our seemingly normal lives, we moved on to the juicier stuff. That is of course, the stories of other people we know and those we don’t know so well. From one gossip girl to another, here’s the buzz:

Actress Sandra Bullock just won the Oscar’s, but is now divorcing her husband for allegedly cheating on her while filming The Blind Side. Talk about being blind.

Friend-Can’t-Sleep suspects her husband is cheating on her. With another man. Unbelievable.

College Crush #2 is single again and is back in town. Hmm…

Guess who hooked up with a 20-something beauty? Someone’s 40-something widower uncle.

Lesbian classmate is pregnant, married a man, but thinking of getting back together with the 5-year girlfriend. Huh?

Fiction is nothing compared to real life drama. As talk of babies, breakups and friends turning gay filled the night, I couldn’t help but wonder: where have I been? Things are happening so fast. How could these people be breaking up already when I haven’t even been married yet?!

Emi just shrugged, “Well, it’s been 10 years since college. The world now is crazier than we know it. Changes are bound to happen.”

Ten years already? Wow. I looked around and realized that indeed a lot could happen in 10 years. The Ayala Terraces, for one. There’s the evolution of I-Pods, electronic notebooks, Facebook and Twitter. And then, when we weren’t looking, the invasion of short-skirted teeners and preppy twenty-somethings in coffee shops on weekdays and nights. Whatever happened to study hall or conference rooms for that matter?

But the most telling change is the fact that we’re in a coffee shop on a weekend, already deliberating to go home before midnight. I looked at my half-filled coffee cup and remembered how, in our 20s, we’d be crazy dancing in bars to the popular tunes of “Mickey”, “Give It Up” and “September” till the wee hours of a Sunday morning. My, where did all that energy go?

“Hey, are we getting old?” I asked, half-amused, half-sad. “Yep, isn’t it great?” Emi chirped, patting her belly contentedly. Must be the hormones talking, I thought.

“What’s so great about it? Time’s catching up on us and yet there’re still so many things to do and see. Don’t you just miss the time fresh off graduation, when we’ve practically got the whole world at our feet, when we’re more carefree, 10 lbs lighter and basically just had more time to do what we wanted to do?”

Emi laughed, “You mean that time when we’re all a little lost, undecided, emotional, clingy, chasing boys and hopping from one party to the next? If you ask me, being 30-something ain’t so bad. At least now, we know ourselves a little better and we know what we want, what matters to us.”

That got me thinking. At this point, what does matter? Raising a family, pursuing a career, getting rich? I may not figure out everything yet but I know it’s no longer just about our Facebook status, the number of tequila shots we can down in a night or knowing who broke up with whom.

In all things though, big or small, time does matter. At least through time we know things happen for a reason. Some things we fight for, some things we cannot change. I guess the beauty of getting older is finally learning to pick our battles.

Emi went on, “Just imagine going through it all again – first job interview, first love, first breakup, first walk on high heels…”

I cringed a bit. Well, no doubt the past years had its highs and lows. Miss it? Yes. But go back? Nah.


-- SunStar Weekend, 10 April 2009

The Venetian Act

The good thing about being in a foreign place like Macau is that you can be whoever you want to be. You could play rich goldilocks in the House of Gold, wide-eyed tourist at the Ruins of St. Paul’s, or lucky star by the Dancing Fountain. Indeed there’s a different act for every stop. And when it comes to trying your hats on, you couldn’t ask for a grander “stage” than The Venetian Macao.

A short walk from the City of Dreams, The Venetian Macao-Resort-Hotel on the Cotai Strip inspires different lives. It is home to a menagerie of characters and opulent “sets” that evokes the spirit of Venice. Tagged as the world’s second largest building since opening in 2007, there you’ll find stunning replicas of famous Venice landmarks such as St. Mark's Square, the Grand Canal, Marco Polo District as well as 3,000 boudoirs, a colonnade and a vibrant metropolis teeming with clowns, tango dancers, living statues and singing quartets. The more you explore, the more fantastic the characters and sets, it’s almost surreal. When I stayed there, I half-expected a director somewhere to suddenly call out “CUT!” and bring me back to the world I knew. But as they say in every play: the show must go on.

Act One: Camwhores at the Colonnade

Like it or not, camwhoring is becoming phenomenal. As the Urbandictionary.com defines it, it’s the act of taking pictures of yourself and/or with your friends excessively. Granted that we don’t take lewd pics or stare blankly into our cameras every single day, but somehow, somewhere posted in the web, we do have a collection of self-portraits that rivals the number of our MP3 and MP4 files put together. And walking through the colonnade of The Venetian, the visual onslaught of ceilings painted like the Sistine Chapel, beautiful chandeliers made out of Murano glass and fabulous old world frescos that decorate the walls – are enough to turn any camera-shy gal into a struggling camwhore.

Let’s take our cue from Boys Over Flowers (yeah, the Korean soap), shall we? No doubt the cast had a grand time filming their best episodes at The Venetian. Some poses to try on at the Colonnade: 1. The Jun Pyo "Emo" picture – hold the camera high, purse lips, look down with sullen expression a must; 2. The Jan Di "Oooh, Ahhh" pose – hand over open mouth, eyes as big as saucers pointed up and to the side; 3. The “I can’t get any cuter than Ji Hoo” pose – an attempt to be coy and mysterious: lean at a pillar, stare broodingly at the camera then release that half smile. Click!

Act Two: Lovers at the Gondola

If you’re a couple playing honeymooners, there’s nothing quite like experiencing the romance of Venice and gliding along the waters of San Luca, Marco Polo or Grand Canal aboard a beautifully crafted Venetian gondola. Or if you’re playing The Brokenhearted like Jan Di, then there’s no finer place to cry than aboard a gondola while being soothed by a singing gondolier. By the time you’ve gone through the calming canals and underneath bridges alongside cafes, you’ll be charmed enough by the romance of it all that once more you’ll be prompted to say life is truly "Bellissimo!"

Act Three: Jesters on the Streets

Funny how you can be fooled by an artificial 6:00 pm sky inside The Venetian. Here you will discover time will stand still for your amusement. It’s easy to immerse yourself in the “Streetmosphere” of Renaissance Venice and follow the acts of a unique troupe of Artiste Del Arte or Carnivale characters wandering the cobblestone walkways that twist and turn through the Grand Canal Shoppes. Play along with numerous street performers of all shapes and sizes – from Italian opera singers, musicians, magicians, stilt walkers, jugglers, hilarious jesters, acrobats and living statues dressed in authentic and elaborate Venetian costumes. For the ultimate act of daring, get to know ZAIA, the resort’s signature show by Cirque du Soleil.

Act Four: Explorer at the Grand Canal Shoppes

It is said the design of The Venetian Macao is inspired by the travels of Marco Polo, the Italian explorer who educated the western world concerning the cultural sophistication and treasures of China during his travels. So I guess, in the spirit of the world-renowned traveler, we explore Asia's most unique and opulent shopping mecca. With more than 330 internationally renowned stores offering the best in fashion, jewelry, accessories, authentic masks and other Venetian gifts all under one blue sky -- you will definitely find a treasure to bring back home.

Act Five: Joker with a “P” at the World’s Largest Casino

Can you keep a straight poker face? Then get ready to meet dealers with talking hands, people with walking money and jokers with clinging honeys. Owned by the Las Vegas Sands, The Venetian Macao houses the largest casino in the world, operating over six hundred gambling tables in addition to a luxury hotel. You don’t have to be a player to appreciate the pings and wheels of the games. No doubt there are stories unspoken in every table. The “No Camera” policy also holds true in this arena, making it a challenge to capture the vibrancy of the place. But while they say “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, Macau, if you’re creative enough, is a whole different card game.


-- SunStar Weekend, 20 March 2010

A Disney Ride

When Aladdin invited Princess Jasmine on a magic carpet ride to see “A Whole New World”, I bet he was talking about Disneyland. Where else can you find a place as magical as this, where every turn’s a surprise, there are new horizons and a hundred thousand things to see?

My very own magic carpet ride to Hong Kong Disneyland was no less than shining, shimmering and splendid. Let me share this whole new world with you with these 10 reasons why I heart Disneyland:

1. Oh My Princesses!
When I was a little girl, I used to wonder what it would be like to meet the beautiful fairytale damsels in distress in the flesh. Would I swoon? Do I ask them to introduce me to Prince Charming? Should I ask for their beauty secret? Meeting Belle, Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Cinderella and Snow White at 31, I realized two things: one, with proper make up, beauty is ageless; and two, you’re never too old to pose with them.

2. Festival of the Lion King
For 30 minutes, you get to experience this inspiring Theater in the Wild where Timon & Pumba sing “Hakuna Matata (No Worries)” and the Lion King teaches about the Circle of Life. It’s a Musical Spectacular in a Greek-inspired revolving stage with excellent lights, color and special effects, plus a talented cast including Pinoy performers, who wink and shimmy to our code, “Mabuhay!”

3. 3D Magic in FantasyLand
What child has not dreamed of flying with Peter Pan, or tumbling into Alice's Wonderland, or dancing with the Little Mermaid Under the Sea? These fantasies were brought to life in my first ever 3D experience. I would never forget, as I put on my yellow-rimmed 3D glasses, how I popped Donald Duck’s bubbles under the sea, whooshed in the air with Peter Pan, and the best yet-- soared, tumbled and freewheeled on a magic carpet ride with Aladdin and Princess Jasmine to the splendid tune of “A Whole New World”.

4. Main Street U.S.A.
Disneyland is more than the park and rides. It’s the smell of roasting chestnuts on Mainstreet. It’s the street sweepers, the wandering characters, and the new (sometimes unexpected) discovery around every corner like puttering motorcars, horse-drawn streetcar, jitneys, quaint shops and other bits of memorabilia along the boulevard reminiscent of America’s Victorian period.

5. High School Musical, Live!
As soon as the drums roll and the Wildcats call out, “What time is it?” you’ve got a party with dancing on the streets!

6. Jungle River Cruise in Adventureland
There was a long queue to this trip into the heart of tropical jungles. As you journey into the unknown, you will find hippo-filled rivers, wonder at Tarzan’s tree house, and discover exotic adventures around every river bend. Was it worth standing in line for so long? Absolutely.

7. Riding the Carousel
For the longest time, I’ve been skittish around merry-go-rounds. Something about wooden horses going round and round to a scary tune makes me dizzy. But as I stood before Cinderella’s Carousel in Fantasyland, I thought, what the heck, if she can do it, why not? And this time, it didn’t make me dizzy at all. Like riding a unicorn, it made me fly!

8. Tomorrow Never Dies
In Tomorrowland, you literally got the world (at least a version of it) in your hands. Here, you can rocket through outer space, blast at warp speed and glimpse near-future technology. Like our dreams, this place is timeless. Inspired by hope for a peaceful and prosperous future, Tomorrowland is home base to many futuristic ideas and is a tribute to history’s visionaries who have dreamt of a better world.

9. Spectacular Fireworks: Disney in the Stars
Like the rest of the crowd, I squatted on the cobbled street before Sleeping Beauty Castle to see Disney in the Stars, the nightly fireworks show. Pretty soon, the street lights went off. A hush fell as music flowed, then in a heartbeat, the night sky exploded in colors. Speechless, I got the chills. Not because it was 12 degrees cold in Lantau, Hong Kong. But for the first time, I saw elaborate fireworks synchronized to orchestrated classic Disney songs following – get this-- a story line! Simply spectacular.

10. You Gotta Believe in Magic
Being in Disneyland, “The Happiest Place on Earth”, is just like being handed a magic lamp with a genie inside it. Whether you wish for love like Beauty, seek out a thrilling adventure like Simba, or chase a whole new world like Aladdin-- anything is possible—all you have to do is believe! Disney’s magic isn't just that thrill of riding the space shuttle, seeing Mickey Mouse surfing on top of a whale’s fountain, or getting up close and personal with Tarzan (oh my, the muscles baby). The magic also comes from the laughter, wonder and memories of spending time with family or friends. It is the realization that a dream has been brought magically to life for the young and (ahem!) young at heart. A day in Disneyland equals a lifetime of inspiration. Once you’ve experienced the magic, you’re never the same again.


--SunStar Weekend, 06 March 2010

The Hong Kong Walk

“Walk, there is no path, the path is made by walking.” -- Antonio Machado, translated

When you’re on foreign land and not sure exactly where to go, the best recourse sometimes is simply to walk. So when friends BamBam, Alexis, Alex, Al and I found ourselves poised at the Gateway of Harbour City in Kowloon , Hong Kong – hungry, cold and struggling to understand Chinese English, we wasted no time checking in and stepping out of the hotel. As soon as we opened the glass doors, you could hear the collective, "Oh sheeeshh." It was 12-degrees cold on a January day. I should have gone back to get a pair of boots and a trench coat. But then, among the five of us, only BamBam had the good sense to bring some.

“A conservative is a man with two perfectly good legs who, however, has never learned to walk forward.” -- Franklin D. Roosevelt

When in Hong Kong, it pays to know how to do the Hong Kong Walk right. That is: go left and be fashionably fast-forward. Kowloon, as I see it, is a maze of intersecting fashion ramps teeming with gorgeous men in New York black suits and waiflike cover girls wearing straight faces while strutting the latest winter fashion line of turtlenecks, fur-lined coats, mid-thigh pleated skirts and knee high boots. My bare legs, though loving the cold, felt ridiculously outdated. Even so, one can’t afford to stop. You’ve got to move forward. And fast. Or else, like any conservative, be run over or pushed aside to the point of rudeness. At the Fashion Walk, you see, no one stands still. You could almost hear Madonna breathing heavily at the background, “Vogue, vogue…let your body move to the music, hey, hey, hey…”

“There is nothing like walking to get the feel of a country. A fine landscape is like a piece of music; it must be taken at the right tempo. Even a bicycle goes too fast.” -- Paul Scott Mowrer, The House of Europe

Walking on, one could feel the cosmopolitan spirit of Hong Kong celebrated in its stunning skyscrapers, fashion boulevards and gigantic billboards. Harbour City, we discovered, is a mini metropolis devoted to retail therapy. It is by far Hong Kong’s largest shopping complex, with more than 700 stores, three Marco Polo hotels, two cinemas, over 50 food and beverage outlets...

Wait, are we lost? We kept walking.

On to the street and Hong Kong landmarks -- China Ferry Terminal, Kowloon Park, Star Ferry, the Hong Kong Museum of Art, Hong Kong Cultural Centre and then The Avenue of the Stars -- Hong Kong's answer to the Hollywood Walk of Fame. There you’ll find a shrine to Hong Kong’s golden screen luminaries such as Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, as well as the best views of the Hong Kong skyline and famous skyscrapers along the harbor.

This way? That way? When in doubt, I say, just follow the path of least resistance. So forward, we walked.

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” – Lao-Tzu

The oldest road and main thoroughfare through Kowloon is Nathan Road. It has earned the nickname “The Golden Mile of Asia” because of the dazzling array of brightly lit, neon-decorated shops, jewelry stores, hotels, restaurants and nightspots along the way. Said to resemble New York City’s Times Square, it is one of the busiest commercial roads in Hong Kong today. Named after Governor Sir Matthew Nathan, history tells that when this wide boulevard was proposed, residents thought it was a foolish idea that would create traffic concerns and other problems so they dubbed it “Nathan’s Folly”. Crazy or not, we kept walking.

“If you are walking to seek, ye shall find.” -- Sommeil Liberosensa

Hong Kong, the "Fragrant Harbour", has every imaginable persuasion on earth. Here you will find SASA: Making Life Beautiful; G2000 – Where Work Matters; and Samsung bugging you to “Tune on Tomorrow” in neon lights. Good thing there’s enough MY D.N.A. going around reminding you: Do Not Agree, Never Compromise, Always Say No.

It’s not easy, mind you, especially when you have every high fashion icon calling you on the streets--from Dior to Gucci, Valentino and Ferragamo, Burberry and Louis Vuitton, D&G and Armani, Prada, Zara and Chanel. Stop. Did I just see a Manolo Blahnik shop? Fast forward. Manolo Blahnik Shoes On Sale. Is this for real? Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City once said, “The fact is, sometimes it’s hard to walk in a single woman’s shoes. That’s why we need really special ones now and then to make the walk a little more fun.” But still, at $400? Ouch. That must be one hell of a walk.

“Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.” --Steven Wright

Three hours later and we were still walking. Our feet by then had grown numb with the cold. And yet, it seemed like we still haven’t covered enough Kowloon ground. Where does it end? Have we seen enough? For each single step to nowhere, I found my mind stretching towards endless possibilities, even as I struggled to make sense of this strange city, keep up with the pace, and even forgive the cold shoulders and unsmiling faces.

There was no final destination on sight. No measure of time. There was only faith that the road will lead us to where we were meant to be. And then, as we walked some more, there was the unmistakable smell of Starbucks coffee along Canton Road. Finally, something to warm up five kindred spirits meandering like in a dream, simply seeking to find traces of home in unfamiliar spaces.


--SunStar Weekend, 20 February 2010

Mean Girls

When I was in my teens, I remember being haunted by the question: why are women in power so mean? From the hair-flipping Plastics who rule the campus, the Terror Teachers who are quick to dress you down over wrong answers; to the Queen Bee – your own Mama perhaps, who keeps you grounded at home just when you managed to get your high school crush to ask you out on a date.

Then I grew up to find that in the real world, mean girls still abound. From government ladies who make you wait and wait, to immigration officers who love to intimidate and yes, the Plastics who—being non-biodegradable, live long enough to kiss you on both cheeks at cocktail parties and stab you at the back the moment you turn around to get your own margarita.

In the office, you have your very own Miranda Priestley whom you can’t ever please no matter what you do; suffer the Gossip Girls who pounce on any newbie; and work around the other corporate devils who whine, swear and wear fake Prada.

You try to escape the real world and discover to your chagrin more mean girls in books, TV or the movies—from Blair Waldorf to the Other Boleyn Girl, Stephen King’s Carrie, Tina Fey’s Mean Girls, Mrs. Minchin, Mara’s Clara and who can forget – the Wicked Witch of the West. As one blogger puts it, “It seems that for every faithful friend and all-round good girl there is some darn near demonically possessed mean girl out there determined to take her down. The fact that demons never have anything to do with these scenarios is perhaps their most terrifying element.”

We've all had our share of brush ups with mean girls. These antagonists wear so many masks but whenever I encounter one, I always find myself asking the question: Why?

Is it peer pressure? Is it because when you're dealing with insecurity, sometimes the easiest way to feel better about yourself is to tear someone else down? Is it the quest for popularity, the illusion of control, or simply the heady assurance that they have something other people want? Is it about the unbelievable pressure girls face to rise to some artificial and unobtainable standards of beauty and size? Is it something encouraged by our culture? So often women are pitted against each other--who's prettier, smarter, most likely to succeed--that lead to in-fighting, and a thirst to be on top, because not everybody can be.

Where there’s meanness, I also see weakness. The mean girls in our lives may happen to have fabulous makeup or very nice complexions but deep down such girls, in my experience, are also wounded in some fashion, and, in the end, in need of compassion.

In every girl, they say, there’s the good, the bad and the ugly. Few girls, if any, are mean all the time. As someone defines it-- a Mean Girl is two-dimensional; a type rather than a fully rounded character. Because the truth is that sometimes girl relationships are complicated. Jealousy and resentment can coexist with affection and admiration. And if we’re honest, there’s a mean girl in all of us.

In an interview with Cosmopolitan magazine, January 2010 issue, cover girl Leighton Meester admits, “The evil side of Blair is somewhere in me, but acting her out is like therapy. I get to do things nobody would ever say or do in real life.”

Being the recipient of meanness or cruelty could be downright awful and devastating. But we also know that most tortured girls will go off into their adult lives and recover, learn to grow wings and rise above the pettiness and dark web of drama created by mean girls. As my friend Bryan always says, what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. So maybe it's not so bad in the grand scheme of things.

Perhaps it’s just me rationalizing what I cannot change in real life. True, there will always be spiteful, malicious or difficult women in our lives. But as I grow older, I find myself increasingly interested in the shades of gray, to know what these mean girls can actually teach us if we just open our minds.

Such as how to be bold, loud and fascinating. To be clever, aggressive and also mean when necessary.

As we welcome the Year of the Tiger, maybe it’s high time to stop running away from these mean girls, fight back and stop thinking that we are victims all the time. Like the tiger, let us grow up, be brave and finally take that stand and say, “I am woman, hear me roar.”


-- SunStar Weekend, 06 February 2010