a relative world

black tongue & crowns

2012-02-01T16:18:00.000+01:00

It was just a week ago when I was bragging about our wonderful spring weather in January. Loving my daisy blooms then the gray clouds came, never left for five whole days & voila, our little barrio on a carpet of immaculate white snow. It started with sleet then finally it turned into snow pouring entirely the whole day yesterday & all through the night. It were the biggest, most wonderful snowflakes I have ever seen. This magnificent downpour of snow cost us our power supply the whole night enough for our thick walls to withstand the freezing temperatures.

This landscape is not an ordinary sight here in the south of France that the panic & chaos on the road is obliged. But even in the midst of non-stop snow, I still went to my appointment with the dentist. I have been trying to see her since we moved here & it would be a good opportunity to have her check my teeth before I get my dental crown in Manila. I didn't really intend to tell her about this plan but it seemed to me she was ready for the x-rays & for a temporary crown. I already know the exorbitant cost of dental care in France & it is normal protocol for them to present you your choices & especially the cost, which didn't look like her protocol at all. With that, I blurted my plan & the dentist's face changed dramatically.

It's obvious that I shouldn't have but a dental crown here costs 610€ each, and I don't urgently need just one but three. In total, my bill would be 2,640€, with only 480€ reimbursement from the Social Security (which totals to 2,100€). I continued telling her that the prices are really steep & that a lot of French are resorting to seeing university students or even traveling to Spain or Italy for their dental work. To which she disagreed saying that if these teeth needed care, she wouldn't even accept the patient. She then added that this price is not even expensive if you think about it.

At first I felt so ashamed for not having tact & ethics but after replaying it in my head, maybe I really wanted her to know how outrageous this price is for a crown (300€ for a crown is still painful but at least more affordable). I even asked her if I could still come back to see her for the rest of my dental work even if I decide not to do the crowns with her. Although the air was so damp with awkwardness, she still managed to say yes & making sure to let me know that she is not happy. I guess I need a new dentist (again) & in the end, I thought her approach of not even proposing her dental fees before anything else & not accepting patients with teeth she didn't do, seems like business to me. I'll take my chances on paying double if necessary. How could fake teeth cost so much?

Like I said, we're going to pay for our wonderful winter weather but I don't mind twice or thrice a year of snow, especially when you wake up with a view like that. Snow is still magic.

of nothing & some things

2012-01-23T18:47:00.004+01:00

With January almost over, we’rehaving such a wonderful winter. It's so wonderful that even my plants are confused. My daisies are in full bloom & my strawberries are pushing new baby leaves. We use the sunlight that beams in the house so we rarely have the heaters on during the day. Not that I'm complaining but it is a bit scary to have spring weather during winter. Like spoiled brats with a tab to pay later.

So, New Year. As if it was just yesterday I talked about the year that passed. It's either I have really nothing to blog about anymore or time is just so speed that I keep on forgetting to blog about things that seem to matter.

The very first thing I did on the second day of the year was to get an empty gas bottle for our stove. We always empty it on a sunday. While paying for the said bottle in a gas station, I noticed a man who just couldn't resist staring at me from afar while he puts gas on his car. I would have loved being viewed at if it was a yummy jeune homme. But it happened to be an old guy with a bobbing pony tail & cowboy boots. He even stopped & stared one last time just in front of me before he drove away. And we say that we pinoys stare a lot when we see white skin or blonde hair. They do stare a lot too. And they're likewise not even the slightest embarassed to do so.

I believe this is the year I heard people talk about "New Year's Resolution" the least. Never really made one. Any other day is as good to begin anew. What I wanted to do is to try something new for 30 days (thank you Chesca for sharing this). It is like a 30 day challenge to do something you've always wanted by starting with small, attainable projects. It is said 30 days is about the right amount to form or subtract a habit. I loved the idea that I came up with a list of new things I wanted to try, or habits I wanted to form & take out of my life. So, I thought of starting my 30 day challenge with procrastinating less by starting with the littlest everyday things. But yes, I still do have to start the challenge.

Every year that ends & begins, I become more & more grateful for so many blessings, even with a difficult & trying past year. The more we hope for good health. To worry less & laugh more. To complain a lot less & appreciate much more. To care less & live more. I have not been productive for such a long time - literally & biologically - I'll start with doing a lot less of those & more of the rest. So much to look forward to but not looking too far because if there's one thing that keeps biting me in the ass is change. Making each day count with the things that really matter the most. And sometimes this is how we see the world differently.

in between seasons

2011-12-09T00:36:00.000+01:00

Christmas only struck me the other day when lights were set up on our barrio's streets & lamp posts. I almost felt a weird pressure about the holidays this year. This time I didn't even wonder whether to decorate or not (not). I think I've finally outgrown the Christmas spirit that I want to crawl in a hole & come out when it's over. I actually feel remorse about this that it makes me squirm to that same hole nevertheless.

Needless to say, I am more excited to escape a good part of winter for the sun & sea back home. I have already scheduled moments of idle pleasure under a coconut tree on powdery white sands with cocktails under a scorching tropical sun. And among our brief stay in paradise, I will be back to my former life. The life I left 11 years ago & regularly look forward to recapturing everytime I'm there. But then this time, there was a sudden & rude awakening that home has become like a room that you know it's there but you can never go in. It just doesn't feel like you're part of your past, a tourist in your own home.

On the surface, I would always remember what my mother told me the first time I came home after 4 years of France - "How come you don't look like somebody who came from France?" And she was so right since I purposely wore the same clothes I left with 4 years ago. Like time just stopped. While in the former life, I was almost never behind the latest fad, now I always come home with awe & surprise like I was living in a cave all this time. But looking like 10 years has passed you by is really nothing, what with all the malls & the incessant updates from television shows & commercials, and even billboard advertising!

It's finding again the people you had tremendous memories with & you realize that it does not make any connection anymore like it used to. There are just a very few friends who even after years of no contact, would still be the same like it was just yesterday. Then there are people you didn't expect to be as happy seeing you back home. But it's normal, I guess. I left, life went on, we all made new memories & things are never the same for everybody. And the memories made when we were younger can never have the same impact now that is why we can never have the same kind of friendship later in life.

These days I feel I'm in between homes. I still don't quite feel at home here in France, as much as I try & I don't feel at home anymore back in Manila. Thank goodness for family. It is obliged to be the same no matter how many years it has been. Family, even with the usual squabble, is the only place you will always feel at home.

I am a perpetual tourist & I have to admit that I want to again be lost in translation somewhere else, building rooms of a former life. Afterall, we always find ourselves revelling the people in each room through a window while we all get on with our lives.

Where is your home?

...and more about neighbors

2011-11-04T18:30:00.002+01:00

There should be a post in between this talk about neighbors but I haven't gotten around to sitting in this same place & speak about how morose our autumn is. I even have photos to prove it. But then my Swedish neighbor have prompted me to flip out here more than this damn weather did.

Last summer & just one post ago, I spoke about connecting to your neighbors. I had tea with my Swedish neighbor in our garden, together with her Romanian best friend, which followed a house visit after. They mentioned about the problem she was having with her balcony which is located on the top floor, a floor level above our house. They said it collects water when it rains because it doesn't have an appropriate drainage system to which they said that it could be a problem to both of us since we share a common wall. I just merely agreed also having rainwater infiltration problems in our 200 year old house.

The visit continued in my neighbor's house, gasping at how beautiful her balcony view is & frowning on how our roof tiles are out of shape. They showed me that the problem comes from the rainwater draining from her roof without a proper gutter system & they "thought" that maybe she can have her drainpipes pass on our roof & to the front of our house. I couldn't assure it since we have another neighbor in front of our house who will likewise need an agreement but mostly because I didn't want her pipes on my roof. I continued by suggesting that she should really have her pipes on her own property & go all the way in front of her house (her balcony is located at the back). It's logical & I thought I was clear enough. The Romanian best friend even said she might have to reconstruct her roof.

Last week she was here with her boyfriend on which she mentioned a few months ago "to fix things in the house". We bumped into each other in front of our houses a lot of times & I even helped them trim their grape vines. She invited us a few times but since my husband comes home late from work, we didn't find time for some wine & chat in her house. She then mentioned that she would have friends over to fix the roof problem. I met the said friends & yesterday before they left, they gave me a big pot of mums. My neighbor said she would love for me to have it since she's not here till January. She would want to have the pot back & I thought that was very nice.

For no reason at all & with all the rain, I checked on our exhausted roof even before opening all the window shutters & I couldn't believe what I saw - the friends did work on the roof problem by installing her the gutters but letting all the rainwater drain on our roof...I even didn't see anything like this in the Philippines. Needless to say, I was terribly pissed & totally lost it this morning without resolving it since she will only be here next year.


Her day old gutters draining on our roof just like that. Is this normal?!

Tracing back I thought, was I not clear enough that I did not agree on this? That the pot of flowers was actually to thank us for something we don't even know yet & that our silence & accceptance maybe meant it was ok? Or because I was not snooping around enough while they were installing it & it meant it was ok? I clearly remember that she did not explain exactly what she wanted to do with her gutters, or if we didn't have time for her invitation, couldn't she tell us with the numerous times we bumped into her in front of our houses? Didn't she have to ask for our permission to freaking solve her balcony problem on the expense of our roof? I was really fuming mad. I have all the photos & references on laws specifically regarding gutters & rainwater drainage in case this gets bad when I finally speak to her. And we're not difficult people to talk to. We even thought it was their right to overhang their gutters on their wall on top of our roof but when I read about it, overhanging gutters on your property needs an official agreement with notarial documents. I'm convinced that they actually thought they can get away with it.

Eh voila, neighbors. Be distant, be nice, you're still screwed. There are many constraints for living in village houses & sharing walls. Even more if you get horrible neighbors. So, are the French right for putting up a house sign that says, "Private, distrurb a little?" I'm truly now more convinced & we've decided to have the same sign now, especially to our Swedish neighbor who got too close & overused our welcome. We just don't have the lucky hand with our neighbors.

Last month, my husband was speed controlled by our very own police neighbor for 90€.

Another normal scenario in a small village of France.

who are the people in your neighborhood?

2011-09-21T18:24:00.002+02:00

The only time I ever moved was 11 years ago when I married my husband & definitely left home for France. My family moved a lot before I was born & when they had me, they finally settled in one place. So, you can say that I have never really experienced the heartbreak of leaving a best friend, or having to change schools and make new friends (I went to school with the same kids for 12 years). In my 11 years of France, we already moved three times.

Finding your house is also about the place & the neighborhood you are likewise moving into. I ignored the significance of a neighborhood having to live in one place for 28 years & realized the void from a lack of it in 11 years. My parents became really good friends with our neighbors of forever. A little like Wisteria Lane but a lot less of the drama. I played with the kids of our block. We used to have the yearly summer block outings & the New Year Block Party where each generation gets a chance to organize it. I always looked forward to it until of course I reached a certain age where hanging out with your parents & neighbors on New Year's is not cool at all. I got to organize a couple of block parties right before it just disappeared, when everybody just felt old for it. These days you can surely count on my neighborhood for group prayers & vigils if you need one.

Although we are not Mr & Mrs Friendship, we are courteous & polite and we have always respected the people we live with. Especially when you all live in one building. Even if all I remember in our Paris building is the creaking sound of our upstairs neighbor's bed together with a woman's uncontrollable moaning, or all our old neighbors who always took the chance to let us know that they don't really like young people in our building in Carry le Rouet, I have good memories of the places we called home & made good friends. Except, they were not really my neighbors.

So much for block parties. Not that I would want to organize one here. The French neighborhood is such a mystery. A silent decorum like anywhere except here, there is almost a sign post in every house that says "Private, disturb just a little". Our Paris building always seemed so void & the one in Carry le Rouet, half of the tenants were seniors. You'll be sure to give a minimum of half an hour when you cross one in the hall. I've carried all their groceries up the stairs & had tea with one of them . I even crawled the wall to open an accidental lock out. Those & despite the disputes of probably living together long enough in one building, it never went over the bumped into chitchat & heroic errands.

My current neighbors have all those sign posts. Although when we moved in, I tried to connect more with them & have a good relationship now that we're sure to be staying here for a long time. But there's always like an invicible wall, or it's like a game of yoyo. One neighbor just disappeared when they asked us to watch their house while they were gone & in return would invite us for dinner. Another invited us for appero for the Fete de Voisins & I never bump into her anymore. One of them would only say hello to me when we're in front of our houses & if not, she won't even budge nor look at me. But there's the young couple we seem to be connecting with but only at a certain distance. Then there's my widowed & retired Swedish neighbor who we connected with instantly because of our foreign status.

Maybe the sign post came with our house, or we're not really likeable people but I noticed that my French neighbors really allow us to disturb them just a little bit. They really don't want you to get the wrong idea. "I invited you only for tea & not to be friends in that way. Just for someone to watch over my house in case I'm gone..." Personal or cultural, France has a problem with solitude. As of 2010, there are about 4 million people facing solitude & isolation in the country* It does not only comprise of the senior citizens but also between the ages of 35-49, even in big cities*. And somehow, I feel this solitude as a result of this privacy even in my own neighborhood.

We have yet to invite some of our neighbors for tea. Not just for someone to look over our house when we're not here but to again attempt to make a little more opening. It might not really happen but I sure do hope I can knock on their doors for salt (might also not happen). Even if I'm okay with my neighborhood's ambiance, I wouldn't ever want nosy neighbors with stories to tell anyway, there is such as a thing as luck when it comes to your neighbors.

*Les Solitudes en France en 2010
*Le Figaro, December 12, 2010

same time, next year

2011-09-04T17:27:00.001+02:00

so it's officially crazy...

2011-07-12T18:14:00.000+02:00

The clock/thermometer reads 31° where I am on the 3rd floor of the house. The electric fan hums on the pc tower. The sky is its usual summer blue. Then, the excited French, aroused by the summer heat + the tourists, local ones included, to mark the official R & R of the year in France. The Viaduc de Millau

Although there are three principal periods of holidays in France, Christmas, winter & summer, the latter is still the most busy season. There are three ways to travel around - by road, by rail & by air. On the news, it was computed that Paris-Nice by plane will cost ±750€ for a family of four. Around 550€ by train & ±350€ by car. Adding the economic crisis, the French will have a shorter vacation & a closer destination. And part of that destination is here in the south but it feels like everybody is already here.

My short drive to Cannes & back was peppered with curses, mocking laughs, conflict scenes & near accidents. Only more current at this time of the year. There is a curiosity between the heat & the tourists on the road. Not only that it's so hot & it's so traffic & that everybody is trying to get to a manmade beach by the main boulevard of Cannes and the island of St. Marguerite, everybody is damn rude & impatient. Not to mention how they can allow themselves to do whatever they want like double park on the middle of the road to get a baguette, or make a U-turn anywhere.

The highlight of today's drive was between an old lady & a young man who happen to shout at the old woman who was literally driving in the middle of two lanes. After a minute or two & when the lanes were back in order, the old woman began screaming curses to the guy, complete with hand signals I have never seen before, throughout the 200meter road with 3 stoplights. The guy was just laughing at the old woman who seemed to be more pissed. The only thing that reassures me with this scene is that you'll be sure there will be no guns to finish a petty road conflict.

In a way, I thank my 10 year driving experience in the horrifying streets of Manila & somehow taught me courage in this crazy world of driving. And I just don't mean here or back home, but anywhere else. I guess crazy is universal. So we are truly not deserving of the quote, "Only in the Philippines". The driving rules might be square & clearer here but it's the human nature of selfishnesst & pride that makes driving stressful.

I still love summer. It's the best season. But we try to avoid peak times & go during the last leg of the season. So that's two less crazy people.

the paris syndrome

2011-07-04T05:07:00.001+02:00

I still remember how I felt when I first arrived Paris. All the awe, overwhelm, the gasping that is the beauty of this City of Lights. But there is likewise a mix of shock & a little bit of dismay. I vividly recall speaking with a Thai friend about how one's smile can just disappear in Paris. Consumed by the speed of life, the stress, or that's just the way it is. It is not that hard to dive in the city's daily bustle that is so obvious even to a mere tourist. But living in Paris is a whole different story.

Last night, I saw a documentary on the Japanese expatriates in Paris & the mysterious syndrome simply called the Paris Syndrome. The show followed a Japanese couple on their honeymoon, accompanied by both their mothers (I know). First, one of the mothers almost had her purse snatched in the metro. Then in entering a shop, they couldn't believe how not even one salesperson attended to them. It is shocking for these Japanese tourists to experience both these normal scenes of Paris.

Then there's Kenzo, a Japanese writer doing a Paris-Tokyo back & forth for 10 years now, sharing his seemingly ordinary depression when he arrived Paris. He talked about the humiliation in ordering coffee in a café not because of the language handicap but on how the waiters handle their customers. He added that if he was the paranoid type, he would think that the waiter's disregard was because of him. He continued that Paris has so many opportunities to feel humiliated like when people cut lines where it is inexistent in Japan because of their culture of order & respect. And it is with the repetition of these daily episodes that Kenzo plunged into depression. He already had a serious back problem that worsened & necessitated a cane for him to walk. He found refuge in his apartment & refused to talk to anybody, especially to anybody French.

More than 700,000 Japanese tourists alone visit Paris & some 10 of those living here get hospitalized every year due to severe depression caused by the feeling of being oppressed by the French culture & its language that some even go to the extent of having neuroleptic treatments*. And I thought I was already sensitive & my having the occasional blues made me feel I'm losing it. At first I also felt humiliated with Paris' lack of customer service & especially its rudeness. I have also experienced my wallet almost being snatched in the metro. The other day in the supermarket, I was in line hestitating when I saw an old lady running as fast as she could, then she looked at me while she was cutting me in line. But all these scenes are ordinary & universal. In the Philippines, one might even cut you by pretending they don't even see you. At the worse, there are even no lines nor order when you're buying barbeque from the street vendor.

The Japanese are adorable people. They might even have invented the word polite. I've never been to Japan but I'm quite sure that like in the Philippines, there are places where you won't be treated as well as you expected & yes, but not as worse as in France though. But Paris still remains the world's number 1 destination & it's just probably that. The Parisians are so neck-high of tourists that at some point, they are just not that happy to see you. I know, we just cannot justify rudeness because respect is respect. That is why it's no wonder why the French are so uncomfortable with the kind of cutomer service they receive when visiting an Asian country. They are rather bothered, or surprised with this kindness they find outside France. But to add, going back to my last post, my cousin who visited Paris found the Parisians rather nice compared to where she lives (an Asian country).

My Thai friend & I might have lost our Asian smiles but we're not as fragile as to hit depression when we did experience the culture shock of living with the French. Afterall, the Paris Syndrome is exclusive to Japanese.

*facts from the show 66 minutes on M6, aired yesterday
More reads on the Japanese's Paris Syndrome here & here

sun spots

2011-05-24T19:14:00.000+02:00

If there's one sensation that could vividly bring me back to my former life, it'll be the heat. Waking up to a warm & slightly sun brightened room digs out memories of really so long ago. It's quite amazing how we can't remember things even if we try hard but like the smell of frying garlic can instantaneously transport us to those breakfasts (and meriendas) at home or those very early after gimmick food at Goodah. Sometimes, some special sense of smell or feel just can't stop us from looking back. Even just for a mere second.

And heat does that to me. I feel the wind on those long drives. On how I feel when my feet sinks in the sand. Or on how sticky it feels, and grainy, to eat skin peeled ripe mangoes on the beach. Or how we used to bring a big jug of very, very cold iced tea while doing the year's Visita Iglesia. And on other times, this very same jug refreshes us on a day's tennis. Family getaways. Barkada outings. My sunkissed skin. And a long, long list of clichés. It all seems so ordinary. I used to complain of this same damned heat that envelopes so much of my days.

Heat makes me feel sentimental & reminiscent because heat here just doesn't have the props to create the same sensation. It's normal, I know. I guess it's what you felt like that makes you go back & be silly cornballs. New experiences just don't register in the same way with the same impact anymore.

So I guess having to go to the beach here without first getting into traffic & much rounds to find parking then only to see a beach with a blanket of people, and getting into ice cold water just maybe sucks. Hope it's better on your side of the world.

wonders on a distant disaster

2011-03-16T23:57:00.008+01:00

kindness is relative

2011-02-07T20:20:00.015+01:00

When I met my visiting cousin in Paris last december, I was surprised, no flabbergasted (only because it's one of my favorite words) on how she kept telling me that the French are so nice. Even after encountering a store cashier without courtesy, not even a sly grin. Now nice is likewise somewhat relative here. Nice is when there is customer service. As tourists, it is evaluated with services on shopping, dining & lodging. "You should see how it is where I live!" She assuredly told me.

Where she lives, a pleasant physical appearance is a personal necessity. "Sometimes they even literally ask you if you stole something," she continued. There is a thin line between bad customer service & plain rudeness. Sometimes you cannot even tell because you can have both. After meeting my cousin in Paris & back in the south, I also was a "suspect" of shoplifting in Castorama. Their grounds? I absolutely have no idea.

Both my husband & I wore decent clothes. We looked around, picked something we thought we might need, countinued looking around & somewhere between my deciding to go out & pay then ending up with my husband handling all the items, there was a suspicion of conduct. I went out of the hardware department, went to the car to get my jacket & on my way to the garden department, the security, like with utmost urgency, ran after me & curtly asked, "Madame, what did you put in your car?" Interrogation came when I'm already out of the store & came back. After 10 years, in all of France's dreadful customer service, I literally freaked out on this rudeness & lost it. My husband couldn't stop me from arguing with the incompetent security team & my tears of rage. I have always been lenient on normal days except this one. In short, we boycott Castorama Antibes. Not that they really care but customer service in Leroy Merlin is such a breath of fresh air & I prefer spending our money with that. Apparently, nice is not only for tourists evaluated on shopping. In this society of consumerism, shouldn't customer service be vital?

But this is our society. All with its prejudice & stereotyping. It's everywhere. Not only in France or where my cousin lives. It is even present in our our personal circle. Apparently, kindness is relative by degrees - comparison of the worse. But in all this, I've encountered many random acts of kindness. It touches me in the deepest way because it is becoming more rare. And I find it so saddening how we get surprised of kindness in our daily routines. It's as if we have to earn it.

"I have never noticed really," my cousin said & she's right. It's nothing personal. It might be waking up on the wrong side of the bed or a hard day. Unhappy with work. Family problems. Health issues. Or just a bad hair day, we forget to be nice. And I am always reminded everytime I receive an act of kindness that kindness will inspire goodness. It is synonymous to respect. Like rudeness begets arrogance. Then sometimes we just don't allow enough people to be kind to us.

I didn't really think that kindness is relative until my cousin showed me.
I should travel more.

scraps from a year that was & forward

2011-01-01T23:52:00.003+01:00

If you look hard enough, you'll see my friend in his usual place.

I hardly complained about the snow this winter. Staying under the flakes in our garden when it briefly snowed in our barrio, then sticking my tongue out for a moment & tasting a part of nature I have never gotten used to. A white Christmas wish come true when we went to celebrate it with the family in the east of France. Freezing at -15° at 10 in the evening. Half slipping on frosted streets. Shoveling pathways & scraping ice off the car's windows. Breathing fresh, clean air. A sight of pure & immaculate fields of white with nothing but animal trails. But yes, snow is good when you're on vacation.

The usual New Years at home. That is how I captured the valley below as it illuminated with fireworks. It almost felt like home. In the news, there were at least 500 firecracker injuries in the Philippines & there are not more than 5 injuries reported in France. We had the best seat as we watched the year end & begin again.

Hello, visitors around the world.

The 5th year of this blog has been quiet & sluggish. A post a month. Even this post had to squat in the drafts folder for a month. But looking around the blogsphere, it has likewise almost trickled into slumber. Updating by one-liner statuses & sharing your whole life with online photo albums seem to be more practical. This new way of sharing made me wonder about the essence of my blog. But it brought strangers together from all over the world. Some of them have remained virtual friends since the dawn of this blog & it has somehow forged a silent connection. So cheers to my blog friends, lurkers & random visitors. This blogger is not yet ready to close down.

The year that was seemed to be ordinary but significant. Sometimes I cannot tell between bountiful blessings & concluding an 8 year old fight - and losing in the end. A collection of self revelations, a whole lot of learning & in my heart, I know I'm not the same anymore. I guess seeing a year just whoosh by is a good sign. Time is really so long & so short at the same time.

But this rabbit year is carrying on at a slower pace. Especially for a prisoner of freedom patiently waiting for the right mcjob. So I'm taking the leisure of spotting any hint of flair I might have for ornaments. To which I think I just might not have the skill of creativity & imagination. Going four months into our new home, it's still void of personal touch. Repainting an old garden set before spring, visiting antique flea markets & shops help in dragging on the days. In a fun way. There is something in retouching & making old things new.

They say when january is over, winter will already be a breeze. Although february most of the time holds suprises, my garden is now beginning to show signs of spring. It's always wonderful to see it wake up. Finally soon, therapeutic gardening (even weed cleaning) & collecting herbs & spices to grow then hopefully a good calamansi harvest. Even if my garden cannot be as manicured, the pleasure of finally having a green space is priceless. Barbeques always spell conviviality - a warm tête à tête for this family of two & a cat. Simple plans for a simple future.

Somebody's already enjoying the garden.
Have a great year!

welcome home

2010-11-24T16:07:00.008+01:00

After changing our plate number four times & two weeks of many, many boxes, scrubbing & pulling furniture with our trolly, we survived the moving to our home. We're really growing up!

Same but wider view from a different kitchen window.
Every morning I open my window shutters, this view still makes me smile & no matter
how cold it is now, I stay at least a good full minute gazing at the verdant valley below

Home now is a typical 19th century French village house. Around 1835 to be exact and the line of previous owners were tracked down until 1926. We were told they can still scrape a few more years but paperwork & ownership back then were a little bit more complicated. Our old village house, although it shares a wall with the neighbors, is full of charm and answered almost all of our wishes for a house. I would choose a garden over a parking space anytime of the week.

The steps to the garden.
Just learned that a garden is not that necessary for sun & air drying your laundry during winter

Still in the same neighborhood, Spéracèdes is a small village of 1,029 inhabitants nestled in between more touristic villages in the border of the Alpes Maritimes & Var regions. So it gets pretty quiet the whole year round which suits us perfectly.

Despite of some surprises on the first few weeks we moved in and the never ending work to be done, there is forever a quest of improving your home anyway. More of an opportunity than regret. Afterall, it's about a 175 years old but most of all, we are finally home!

A robin accompanies me everytime I'm in the garden.
When I sit, he gets closer watching me as if to wait. Now, I never go to the
garden without a few crumbs of baguette. I figured he got the habit from the
former house residents & I'm happy for it.

November 30, 2011 - Addendum

One day after all the moving in, I was surpirsed after opening our front door to see a woman standing by our little gate, staring at our house. She said not to worry because she used to live here about 30 years ago. She told me stories about our house & apparently, this house goes all the way back than 1835. According to the woman, it was built during the French Revolution (1789-1799). It is good to say that it is a 200 year old house. She also mentioned that the stones on our front door arch are stones shipped from a very old England church. It does have a different stone compared to the rest of the wall. Then they all planted the hedges which explains why they're dying. They're like 30 years old! Including the boungainvillia full of flowers to which she felt a little bitter telling me that the whole time they lived here, it never bloomed.

good times

2010-11-05T00:13:00.001+01:00

a bitter sweet reminder

2010-10-12T20:28:00.003+02:00

In the middle of my swampy two weeks of cleaning paraphernalia & towers of carton boxes, in that isolated moment of a 50 meter walk from our place to the parking, stopping over for a little chat with my neighbors, a handsome little boy of around 6 came up to me & gave me a banal looking seed. "This is for you," the little bright-eyed boy said to me. "If you dig a hole in the soil & put this in, it'll grow into a plant!" he excitedly informed me. He was still looking at me while he walked away, waiting to see where I'll keep it. I was in between a smile & awe when my neighbor budged me & advised me to tuck it in my pants pocket then she winked at me. And so I did, showing it to this little boy I've never noticed before.

Today, in that isolated moment of a 50 meter walk to the parking, a beautiful black girl of around the same age looked at me with a thrilled smile as I was approaching & gave me a sweet hug that lasted for more than a minute. "What's gotten into you today?" her adoptive mother asked her but she said nothing & continued to smile while she hugged me. Then she let go & said, "She's like Jade!" I smiled & told her that I am definitely like Jade but I'm not her mother. Jade is also an adopted Asian girl in the neighborhood who I also see from time to time, shyly glancing at me in this isolated moment of a 50 meter walk to the parking.

A bitter reminder of that someone I'll never have & a sweet reminder that despite the hatred that infertility has created in my heart, children still like me even a little bit.

Palawan Part 2: wonderful El Nido

2010-09-01T18:37:00.007+02:00

Everytime we think of El Nido, we expect 5 star paradise resorts nestled in islands of pristine turquois waters, powdery white sand beaches, cozy cottages & welcome drinks. All that & an exorbitant price for utopia. But as always, paradise shouldn't be as pricey. Even more for an in between Club Med & backbacker's tavern traveler like me. And where my being kuripot* has riled up my husband into madness. Staying in the mainland was really a great choice. I could actually live there. Cadlao Island, my favorite, except for the jellyfish that day

Our Palawan trip was only organized through online information. Since I always travel ahead of my husband, it gives us ample time to book plane tickets a little in advance to avail domestic promo flights. One website that helped me a lot in having an overview of El Nido, its facts & activities is El Nido Boutique & Art Café, where we likewise bought tons of souvenir shirts. Plus like most of the resorts have valuable information for travelers, El Nido Boutique & Art Café can offer more service (transportation, money exchange, etc).

Like all paradise, reaching it is always the hard part. Although chartered flights from SEAIR & ITI have schedules every week for El Nido, the fare is just a tad too steep - 6Kphp/person/one way - a total of 12Kphp for a roundtrip. 200€! So we took a PAL flight to Puerto Princesa with the dreary 7 hour shuttle ride to El Nido for 2,650php & SEAIR to return to reality. Fort Wally Shuttle Service* can pick you right up at the airport. I highly recommend a private shuttle if you're traveling with 4 or more. If you have the time to go around the airport or bus terminal looking for 2 more travelers, it'll save you 7 tormenting hours. The shuttle was just 3 more persons squeezed in a 12 pax capacity plus 3 huge boxes that are considered at a price of 1 person. Doing a 7 hour travel in this condition (and the airconditioning needed freon), was difficult. Out of curiousity, the driver offered us 4Kphp for a private shuttle. Below, El Nido's airport & SEAIR's plane

The Philippines is such an unpredictable country so be sure to add extra days in your pre & post travels. Our flight home was delayed for about 5 hours due to overloading (passenger & luggage). Our flight was more of westerners (robust Russian men at 90kg) as opposed to the other flight composed of only asians. If we took the other airline, our flight would have been on time. A lot of the other passengers have connecting flights & like us, we didn't want to give up our seats. In the end, to finally take off, we gave up our luggage that were as promised to be delivered the same day to the hotel. And a note to travelers with motion sickness, planes for El Nido are small like 15 seater. It flies low so windows are open. I popped one & a half of Bonamine pills & I flew, literally & figuratively, the hour & a half flight to Manila.

It was difficult to find resorts in El Nido online especially the ones with photos. So booking from France was easy & practical with Golden Monkey Cottages. I fell in love with their kubo* & the view from it. What I liked most about it is the homey feel of their resort, the reasonable rates & the warm reception of the owners. It is in the quiet part of town, a 15 minute nature walk to the mainland. Although they don't really have a restaurant or bar, they have a breakfast menu served on your terrace & a special of the day cooked by the owners. That's homecooking! We loved Rose's sweet & sour Lapu Lapu plus they can pack your luch for a day trip. Although they can be a bit of a walk to go to the mainland & back especially at nights when you want to see a bit of the nightlife, you'll be happy not to hear any tricyles roaring, or the guy who's belting out in the karaoke bar while you sleep. If you prefer more of the barrio life & since it's a bit difficult to find a resort online, you can absolutely try the Golden Monkey Resort for a few nights & move to the mainland. Below, our kubo for a week & its view from the terrace on the hammock

One anecdote for this trip, when we arrived from our crippling shuttle ride, I've forgotten to note Rose's mobile number for our pick up at the terminal. Even if I said it was a 7 hour shuttle ride, in the Philippines that means around 8 or 9 so we arrived after sunset, were pretty beat up & desperatley wanted a nice drink. So I asked everyone to wait for me while I go find the resort. Asking locals on the way, I thought it wouldn't be as hard until I reached a point where there were no lights at all. Yes there, the man repeated so I walked, almost to a jog in the dark & was relieved to find the same resort I saw on the photo. But no, the girl said it's after the cemetery. The what?! Cemetery!? A provincial cemetery?! In the dark of night?! I continued jogging, trying not to peek, past the cemetery & I had to ask maybe three more locals for directions. It could have been more but there was a part where there were just rice fields, some animal sounds & the moon. I was commended for my bravery & the next day, we all bought flashlights.

Some days we just stay at the beach near the resort but most days of our stay, we go on island hopping. It's not so much just as hopping from island to island but there are also some adventures. Island hopping is normally presented in groups. Our resort recommended Mang Pitong* the boatman. He is a local living near the resort. Not only that we were happy to give business to the locals, we were much satisfied by Mang Pitong's services. He'd know the islands like the back of his hand. Usually, the day trip is around 600 - 700php per person including lunch (drinks not included). Left, the small patch of beach near the resort, below, Mang Pitong & lunch on our own little beach

The islands of El Nido are amazingly beautiful. We had quite some difficulty with the sun coming out (the amihan or habagat came in late this year) & the waters are a bit chilly but we were never deprived of that scorching Philippine sun. Tha taraw, or the limestone cliffs are the home of the swiftlets, the birds known for their nests as the nido soup and the yucca plants that sit magnificently on them. The yucca plants (and other plants) thrive on the water gathered by the limestone that can last for months. The state of the plants can signal the lack of rainfall. It is amazing to see plants growing abundantly on rocks without soil. Boat rides are mostly an hour & half to two and I've always liked bancas. If you think island hopping is like a hop on & off, you'll be surprised. Below, the smallest taraw island

I have always wanted to kayak in the big & small lagoons but since the mainland is around a 45mins banca ride, I think I'll end up being pulled on the way back. Arriving on the mini lagoon, the bancas cannot go any nearer that you'll have to jump off & swim to it like most of the other islands like the Hidden Beach & the Secret Beach. I have scars by being a weak swimmer (even with a life vest!) & the Secret Beach is the most difficult to swim to. By secret it is located inside one of the taraw islands only accessible by a small hole in deep waters save for a few meters above water when the waves roll out. It was wonderful! It has a small strip of white sands & a mini pool. To go out, you must literally go with the flow of the waves. Unforgettable. On snorkeling, and probably diving, I would say the Visayas is the still the best for that. Below, the small hole to The Secret Beach

Food & cocktails are reasonable & restaurants are everywhere. I was disappointed to have forgotten to try the local nido soup but I was spoiled with seafood. One restaurant who serves the best food is El Nido Corner owned by a Filipina/Danish couple. Although they were the most expensive & having tried the other restaurants, we kept coming back to them. Thanks Divina for the stuffed pusit recipe. A delice! It's a quiet place to eat but if you want more action, the other restaurants with bars have bands & sometimes the fire dancers pass by for entertainment while you eat. It's also worth a trip to the mainland's market & stores. Below, El Nido Corner restaurant & their yummy stuffed squid, sorry for the blurred photo

There are so many stories to tell about our El Nido trip but it's more about sharing the experience on how this paradise is reached. But the most important thing is not to forget your sunblock, Off lotion & Tiger Balm. Our first trip to Palawan, I was feasted by nik-nik or sand mites & I have such an allergic reaction to it. Sunblock can protect you from it while on the beach & Off lotion while you're in the mainland. They're also in the trees & plants. Tiger balm will comfort the bites. Another valuable tip is to either bring a waterproof camera or a Pelican waterproof case for your camera. As mentioned, some of the islands would need a swim to reach it. But don't make my same mistake of bringing defective extra batteries. Below, my nik-nik bites & my pelican

It's probably nice to try the 5 star resorts on their private islands. Like the Big Lagoon is just beside one so kayaking to go there is doable for me but I like diversity & being around the locals. To walk in the bayan* & eating fishballs in the street. If you like to just relax & laze by the beach then the private islands will be for you. We would also like to thank our friends, Yulia & Jacky for sharing the experience with us. The Kalibo Ati-atihan & El Nido were likewise the first for us. Hope they collected wonderful memories of the Philippines. Thanks for the photos, guys!

We're more & more convinced that Palawan would be the location of our dream beach house. We're one step closer to it but I hope that by the time we move there, we won't be too old.

*kuripot - stingy
* Fort Wally Shuttle - 0920.9815702, 0917.2762875 or Fortwallytransport@yahoo.com
*kubo - bamboo cottage
*Mang Pitong - 0921.6205364
*bayan - town's centre

how long till my soul gets it right

2010-08-25T19:16:00.004+02:00

In six days, it's going to be -ber months again. Soon it's fall once more, on our way to the holidays, into the winter & the new year. You might be saying right now how I'm so in fast forward but August just hit me in the ass without even knowing it. And it's not like my days couldn't even fit in 24 hours. So not even realizing how fast(er) time goes by is like a punch in the face on actually how faster I carelessly just waste my days away.

Summer came & went without a trace. Aside from some visits from friends & a trip back home to the Philippines early in the year, we opted on staying quiet at home. Getting those movies we really liked & watching them again makes you go, "Oh, I didn't notice that the first time I saw it!" I hoarded books, ordering three at a time, literally panicking on which one to read first so I ended up following my mood. I now have three books all half read at the same time. But there were just days that I felt bad not to have enjoyed a wonderful sunny & warm day out. In the end, I was happy we stayed in for we have a lot going for the next few months.

So one of the movies I saw that affected me most, well aside from bawling like crazy on Hachiko, is Sex & the City 2 (I think I'm the last one in the world to see it). Apart from the extravagant fashion on a camel in the desert, I related most to Carrie & was pushed back on my seat with a deep sigh when she said that it's just her & Big, without children, just the two of them. I let out a half hearted grin & gasped at the thought of me & my Big.

Even if it was a choice for Carrie & Big not to have kids, I pondered hard about not being like an old couple. Here we are, doing nothing for the summer vacation, ordering movies & books online, made me look at our life for the rest of our lives forever. Just the two of us. But mariage with or without kids demands a lot of work just to keep that sparkle. Then I began to really love the serie because it's one of the few shows/movies that make me feel good about not having kids. Like a parallel universe where you're reminded that it's ok, and sometimes wonderful, not to have kids. Reminding you of that woman & not the mommy. It's just hard to have a moment or place where I'm not reminded every single time of my impossibility of joining the club. One not so close friend with whom I've already lost contact with phoned me out of the blue & remembered to spread the news of her pregnancy with me. So those moments are really precious to me. Fictional as they are, I'm happy to have four women who make childlessness bearable. Women who make singlehood feel like a dream. Women who acknowledge how hard it is to take a time off from motherhood. Yes, I've gone that deep on this movie.

It's now not a surprise why I bawl on movies & gets affected on little things. My thyroid problem is resurfacing with an alarming TSH level. Again. So my blood work results will also decide our last attempt for IVF come September. Our 3rd attempt a few months ago had me all depressed & stressed on how I will have to go about my plan B - being childless- and that played a part on my recurring thyroid crisis. Yes, stress & depression can likewise confuse our antibodies to protect ourselves from ourselves. Literally.

Babbling about things I normally don't detail would also be on my thyroid.

But I wanted to babble. And Sex & the City made me miss my girlfriends back home terribly.

I can't believe how this C rated movie, as critics judged, affected me in so many levels.

Thyroid.

Metaphors of Life - Image 21 - For Things that will Never Come

2010-08-15T16:40:00.002+02:00

of nothing & about nothing

2010-07-19T17:22:00.000+02:00

While the scorching sun & the cicadas announce summer, half of France is busy getting to their holiday destinations. Roads are packed with crazy drivers & public places, even in the supermarkets, are crammed with tourists running around like headless chickens. Not like there's really something to complain about but I've always noticed that during summer, under the heat, people are more nervous & impatient. Either that or everybody's just excited how wonderful summer is. The thing is they seem to believe that everybody is also on vacation that they feel they have the right to just stop in the middle of the road. Afterall, holidays are supposed to be stress-free. I just really thank the heavens for straw hats & car airconditioning. The latter minimizes the sight of shirtless men driving around. They just make me feel uncomfortable.

After a brief slumber in the doldrums, I realized it is always followed by a humble elation. From a simple talk with a friend, or finding something you thought you've lost. Or of finally surrending & accepting a disguised blessing, and on to some really good news. Moving on & growing up, even if the picture is not complete, is still a good way to be living life. Some of us just can't follow the normal cycle of society. And it's ok. An alternate life, though it's more likely the plan B, is absolutely ok. Once you've identified your black hole, it becomes effortless to spin with what's around you.

Slight headaches following sleepless nights & the heat probably triggered my very first vertigo (the real one!) attack. And I'm not just being dramatic. All the spinning & shaking, the nausea & vomiting that is still leaving traces until today, two weeks from the first attack, is not a pleasant sensation at all. I finally had a brink of what it is like after a roller coaster ride for me. So even if I haven't gotten into one yet, I'm still swearing them off my list. Another reminder of the wear & tear of our body. We need more exercise just to be in minimum shape. Aside from not being able to watch 3D movies, I don't think I'd be able to say visit the moon or even orbit around the earth in a hip spacesuit inside a cool spaceship. Even if I know I couldn't afford it if they do commercialize these trips, I'd still like to have the option. Graphics from robotbugs666 of his Flickr album

In a month or two, we'll be back in the whole caboodle of life - some things ending & other things beginning - and all that comes in between. Ending & beginning with old & new habits. Eyes closed & ears open wider as we readily embrace more of life's surprises. Sometimes it is important not to be strong but to feel strong. Courage is what truly makes you not care for that little bite that seems to itch forever. For now, there's nothing more refreshing than chilled melons & watermelons.

village walk : transit 1

2010-06-21T17:59:00.001+02:00

Route Napoléon D6085
A small road, ±300km long, on the mountain slopes leading to many
small villages in the western Alpes Maritimes. This is the same path
that Napoléon took in 1815 for his return from Elba Island, Italy.
Even while driving, the landscapes are giving my tummy a little tug.

Escragnolles, Alpes Maritimes
Population : ±326 - Alt : 1000m

A small village in the middle of nowhere.
The quiet centre of the village.
Just a walk around one block.

A very old uninhabited village house.
Not maintained but beautiful wooden
door & windows and stone walls.

Village Walks are my short passages to little villages with hopefully
a very small population (- 2000), with spontaneous transits.

fickle skies

2010-06-02T11:02:00.001+02:00

I don't know how the weather is on your side of the world but on mine, it just doesn't know what to do. But blue skies are now longer & chilly mornings are getting shorter. Hopefully, it will be more & more like the south & everything would again feel normal.

Normal is something I cannot contain these days. Like the heavens pantomiming my changing moods. Hormone overload, actualizing a dreaded nightmare, or simply reality, I cannot really tell. Reaching a terminal, a deadline, like a letter you cannot ever unfold.

Normal is something I'm required to comply with more & more today. Tissue box beside the remote control. A struggling smile. Cat out the window. A striving laugh. Shoes on the mat. An attempted happy voice. Keeping cheeks dry. A blank sigh. Another day, like nothing had ever happened.

Normal, more than ordinary, is something I have always wished to be. There are days when I wanted to borrow somebody else's aura. To run naked in the wide fields of green. To bask my face under the sun, eyes closed, arms outstretched with a heart truly bursting with happiness of what I have. Accepting my blessings as it is. Letting go of other people's version of life. To forgive & be forgiven.

video killed the radio star

2010-05-26T19:23:00.003+02:00

"Stan, you don't get how cool Facebook has become. You can message your friends,
play Yahtzee with your friends, even start your own virtual farm & have your friends visit it."
Kyle on one of South Park episodes*

You probably have a Facebook account. All of your friends have one too. Your siblings & relatives have one too. Even some of your parents too. Even kids who cannot even use the computer yet have one too. The whole world must be in Facebook. You have all gathered in one cool social network site that made it so much easier to update everybody. What you are up to on your status. Or uploading photos of the weekend getaway. Even old photos to bring back the good times. Some even have online boutiques. Big enterprises hire through the form of advertisements on the site. A lot of TV shows can be found there too. It is truly like a whole world created for your fingertips, one click away.

In France, Facebook's success has reached the government's attention by banning Les Apéro Facebook, cocktail parties organized through Facebook connections throughout the country, when one man died during one of the gatherings. France have always tried avoiding any large social gatherings of young adults. Rave parties have already been banned since the 90's.

On the workplace, there have been many incidents of employees claiming being fired because of Facebook. It took us time to accept a fax message as a legal & binding document. Then comes the e-mail although in France, it is still not widely accepted as legal. And soon, will Facebook be a legitimate proof in the workplace? This phenomenon have started studies in the US about employee productivity. To add to that, there have been so much privacy & data leaking issues. How can a seemingly fun social networking site be so serious & dangerous at the same time?

"According to your Facebook page we aren't friends.
And you better change your relationship status to in a relationship."
Wendy on the same South Park episode*

Of course, after a government & workplace level, Facebook has so much behind the scenes on the personal level of its users. As exciting as it is to find old friends we didn't imagine reconnecting with again, maybe there's a reason why, out of your 500 friends, a quarter of them you have a hard time placing them in your head. While another quarter made you smile because it has been 20 years since you last got together. Then you put them in such an explicit world where normally some people couldn't & shouldn't be together. But the adding & accepting friends is a big issue.

There's the highschool environment where some friendships are tainted because one was not invited to a party after seeing the photo album one has just posted with the rest of their friends. Or finding an old flame with a closed profile & you ask a common friend to spy into his account. Or to bring back old grudges through old photos. But more seriously, couples or marriages being ruined or deeply affected & questioned by photos, comments or even status updates.

It's unimaginable how much personal information we voluntarily share with more people on such network. Some of them we couldn't even place in our heads. Even Mark Zucherberg at first wondered how people can do that but he was smart enough to exploit it which made Facebook such a success. As much as you want to try not to be too personal on your profile & your social circle, you can't help to take some things too personally. It's just the real world in one virtual network. It's human nature.

*still shots of this South Park episode is from a video uploaded on Facebook about Facebook

defribillate

2010-04-26T19:53:00.001+02:00

It has been 3 months since I came back from the Philippines & it takes me longer than normal to get back to the usual routine. Although it was harder getting back to France this time around, what with all the snow that welcomed me & now with winter lingering too long, life has slowly picked up. Thank goodness. This year will just have to surprise me. The welcome snow in our barrio last February

I realized that going on holidays is something that gets better in time. You learn from your past vacations to pack lesser clothes, or that there's always never enough time to do things & in the end, you feel more tired. Like any other holidays. No matter how squarely you followed your time management. There is really such a thing as a professional traveller.

On our weekend trip to an old village of the Provence, Mons, I was surprised to see a defibrilaltor, with its instructions, in the small centre town, nicely built in the old thick walls of a typical old village house:

While the blogsphere is awefully quiet & with so little inspiration to write, I am hoping to likewise defribillate this blog with a better post. With the promise of a better spring, lots of sunshine & warmth coming our way because I won't survive more of this:

Metaphors of Life - Image 20 - Never Too Much Sun

2010-03-05T08:28:00.001+01:00

more gratitude than hoping

2010-01-01T01:56:00.002+01:00

When I was young, back in the latter part of the -ties, I have always thought that in the year 2000 we would be in slick space suits with holograms to do much of the work, flying cars & pills for much of everything essential for survival. And here we are, an hour after 2010, we have built a society as much the same as 20 years ago except there's more stress, we've put a hole on our earth, we have awakened, not as much discovered, more diseases that can apparently wipe out a quarter of a population. So much for space travelling. Our dinner table while taking it slow

But like any habit, tradition is likewise hard to break. Even if we still don't have the moon as a vacation spot, just being away from home & a different way to celebrate the holidays, it doesn't mean that the New Year shouldn't be spent with wine & food. This year, into the next, is for me more about gratitude than hoping to another year of resolutions, change or aspirations. I guess if we're more thankful of what our lives have offered, the future couldn't be any worse.

our scallops with leeks gratin for entrée &
roasted guinea-fowl with chanterelle mushrooms for the main course

Especially when you know that you are where you're supposed to be, no matter what the odds are. The New Years are more celebrated in my heart. It used to be closing a year & hoping for a better one. This year, it's all about what this year has made me become & embracing the future. Whatever it may bring. So much to celebrate for. Cheers to the New Year!

gone fishing

2009-12-21T18:17:00.000+01:00

The only Christmas decor I have at home are the lights outside my kitchen window. Once again I tried to spread the joy but this year, especially this year, Christmas came just like that when I haven't even gathered some Holiday joy yet. Yes, been busy with little things. And believe me, those little things are more vicious than I thought. They take up so much more time, I realized.

Inspite of all the touch & go, sink or swim episodes, my end of year worked out even better for me. Gone through another cycle of cooking a bun in the oven. There are beanies nestled again in the oven which would be a Christmas miracle if they just start marinating well. Then I still get to spend a White Christmas while I savor my mother-in-law's homemade Foie Gras. They're never the same when it's the Holidays. And I also get to start the New Year back home, under the sun by the sea. I've never felt so spoiled.

There are no better gifts than:
¤ two beautiful beanies & one popsicle beanie
¤ the long drive to have a nice family feast & a tête à tête with the husband in the car
¤ to have big snow again for Christmas (even if I don't like it, I miss it too during the Holidays)
¤ having to go home to Manila and have a real, nice haircut, a manicure & pedicure (no more self inflicted bruises), home massages (no more balms), and to have this noise in the house again
¤ the idea of getting to escape a part of winter to the summer of my other home
¤ the blessing to have two wonderful families on both ends of the world
¤ and all the mushiness of having to say how grateful I am for my french fry

I really couldn't ask for more since I have always been blessed with these gifts every, single year. Count your blessings! Happy Holidays & see you back in the New Year!

mister vidar

2009-11-19T12:10:00.003+01:00

a new jargon

2009-11-12T11:39:00.000+01:00

You'd say that after nine years of France, I would be fluent in French with my English in tow, and probably have an accent when speaking Tagalog. The bitter truth is that my French have stagnated at a little below the intermediate level. Then my English is deteriorating, and my Tagalog, my mother tongue, needs a little more effort of remembering words. In the end, with juggling three languages, my level of fluency has been questionable.

My written French still needs the dico & the Bescherelle (dictionary for verb conjugating), I speak using more familiar words like boulot instead of travail (work), using quoi at the end of sentences & still not always sure with the gender of things. So sometimes I can grope for words in the middle of conversations. My English is suffering with ocassional invented words. Just recently with the word submission, I just naturally spelled it submition. My business English needs ransacking. And no, I don't have an accent when speaking Tagalog. It's still intact although sometimes words take a little longer to come. I guess, the vocabulary is the most affected. One time, I had to ask my husband what the English word for trier (to sort) is.

I speak English with my husband, speak French with the rest & speak Tagalog with Filipino friends. I actively use three languages everytime. It feels more natural now than 5 years ago but when you start spelling submission as submition, like a whole new jargon, you really start to wonder if your brain is really getting old for such tasks. And it's not that I don't have practice. I guess it's really just a question of putting more effort.

And I wanted to learn Spanish.

*I had to also learn Italian during my training in hotellerie & the language never lingered after

le baiser

2009-10-28T16:50:00.002+01:00

Watching the movie "Singles" the other day, they had a scene with the most famous kiss. A kiss caught on print that makes you believe that kind of love, that love that once have swept you away. I love this photo.

Le Baiser de l'Hotel de Ville, Paris 1950 - Robert Doisneau

Back in 1950, this was not a stolen shot but an assignment for Life Magazine about lovers in Paris. The photographer, in search of his subjects while sitting in a café down Invalides, noticed a beautiful couple. He approached them & learned that they were young amateurs of the theater. Et voila! The beautiful kiss.

bahala na, a path to the happy place?

2009-10-28T03:04:00.001+01:00

Pugad Baboy strip from Pugad Baboy Online

Generation after generation Filipinos have embedded in their entire lifestyle the bahala na* attitude, more of a philosophical & spiritual value than a simple mantra to get through life. After a couple of years of being uprooted from this culture, I realized that I have not applied this outlook for so long now. At first I wanted to say that I finally rid myself of what seemed to be a cultural flaw but I cannot really say if my life has been so much better without it.

Bahala na, believed to be rooted from the word Bathala, the Tagalog word for God, expresses our fatalistic attitude towards life. At home, in school and at work, we have always been reminded to change this habit. Now that I live in a culture where fatalism is non-existent and where the absolute truth is that life is a series of action & reaction, I found myself more depressed, more frustrated & affected when life does not turn out the way I would want it to. In the end, we are where we live.

While the reality of life is in fact reaping what we sow, the sun or the rain, the bees or the worms somehow affect our reap. We do with what happens in between but we cannot control everything. A lot of my stress & frustrations are rooted from here. The pressure of believing that we can do everything & control everything. It took long for me to be reminded of this. That there is something bigger out there.

A glance of back home, with their grumbles and troubles, they always manage to surmount the stress & depression in so little ways. And when the news of the France Telecom employees rate of suicide cases headlined France, you really have to wonder about the importance of our individual character as a person in relation to the society we are part of. Probably we are really tougher when we are more hit. Sure, the complications of life are relative from one to the other but even the smallest detail can make a difference. We cannot put a planet on our shoulders all the time.

And when bahala na has a more negative connotation, it becomes more of a reassurance when applied responsibly. It is when when we try to do the best we can & then say bahala na. Knowing that we did our part then letting go of what may come. Imagine the emotional freedom it can bring. And I really believe that it's one of the things that makes us Filipinos manage to go through life, even happier than the most privileged.

In a society where there's no room for fate, I don't know what I'll do staying sane without bahala na. Is there any better way to cope with the pressures of life?

*bahala na = come what may
You can explore more of this Filipino culture with a Philosophical Analysis. Yes, it can go deeper.

carry on

2009-09-29T16:36:00.000+02:00

crawling, puncturing & waiting for the bestest day

2009-09-28T17:14:00.002+02:00

There is a sluggish silence, almost to a halt in my blogsphere. A hangover of summer or simply just listless to pick up the mood of blogging. At least that's how it is for me. In limbo, in between moments despite the fact that so much things are happening around me. Plus we're having such a wonderful weather for end September. I bet the beaches here are not totally empty yet. But it still feels like I've been forgotten by time. Crawling to the next minute.

And while I prod & prick myself every night with two shots of our baby concoction, I noticed how much I have been proding & pricking myself already for this year. See photo. Because of an absence of an appropriate trash box, I had to put them in an empty water bottle. The pharmacy instructed me to do exactly just that & told me to check with our town hall on how to dispose of it. Really made me wonder. So that is one artificial insemination, one IVF full & one current cycle worth of syringes, needles & ampules. The effort of love, of love not consummated in the best loving way, where this act of love will meet the petri dish anytime next week.

So begins another wait & this wait I just couldn't...wait for. I have already booked our flights to the Philipines this Christmas, invited some friends, happily charted our itinerary, reserved hotels & announced our homecoming to family & friends. All this before our second IVF attempt. It just dawned on me, while I gave myself my first stimulation shot that I could just be pregnant this time. I literally believed that it definitely wouldn't work again that I let myself be swept away with happy thoughts of kayaking in the turquoise waters of El Nido's Big Lagoon. Two fertility dances are likewise in schedule & an initial visit to adoption agencies. Plus there's a new mom I'd love to visit in Paris. Then there's an old highschool best friend coming over to Rome on November & it'll be the best meet up for another one who is already living there.

The voices of reason started babbling in my head with all the series of what ifs. The devil on my shoulder blames me for wasting an IVF cycle & tells me he feels bad for secretely wishing for it not to work because he'd love to go snorkeling in one of the secret beaches. The optimistic angel convinces me that the bestest day is yet to come. I will finally get pregnant, healthy to see the new mom in Paris, be at the reunion of highschool best friends in Rome & kayak in the Big Lagoon. A win-win situation!

Let's see just how I'll get out of this big pickle. I'm sure I wouldn't have them all.

Metaphors of Life - Image 19 : A Sun's Indication

2009-09-16T15:41:00.000+02:00

MSG fix

2009-08-25T15:04:00.001+02:00

Browsing on the junk food shelf of my unplanned visit to the Philippine Store in Cannes, I finally met more Filipino shoppers. Our small talk sparked with the Korean owner cracking jokes about his Filipina wife. Then the routine questions when & where to which I said I have nine years of France & just moved to the bundok*. "Ah, your husband is French," one confidently concluded while the other added, "Yes! People who lives in the bundok are r-i-c-h." The Korean owner then asks me about Filipinos in our barrio when one of them casually offered her Filipina friend, who is likewise married to a French, to be my friend. I handed my homemade pink call card & left with a bunch of powered MSG food with probably a new friend I will never meet. Then I wondered about the bundok. Did I misuse the word or did it mean that I'm married to an old, retired French? We're surely not r-i-c-h & we just happen to hate living in the city.

*bundok = mountains

protect yourself from yourself

2009-08-14T11:32:00.000+02:00

connect & reconnect

2009-08-13T15:33:00.003+02:00

It now really doesn't matter where you are. A simple click can transport you to your kindergarten classroom or to your highschool prom. The birth of online social networking have gathered old friends (BFFs!), childhood enemies (Do you remember hiding my lunchbox?), childhood losers (He's now an OB?!), childhood bullies (He's now a priest?!) & teenage love teams (How do his kids look like?). It brings you back to the days, reminding you of your foolishness that now makes you giggle. It's like 1987 all over again.

The other day, consumed with a deep nostalgia after one of my highschool batchmates made a video montage of our old photos & get this, the Bagets' Growing Up by Gary Valenciano as the background music, just made me laugh. The clothes, hairstyles & sunglasses just go well with the silly poses & candid shots. And looking at some of my photos I don't remember being taken or posing for made me somehow sentimental. A 15 year old kind of sentimental. I was timesick. I wanted to revisit the simpler days.

It was just not only about finding old friends but also a part of you. Where everything was magical. The smile in our eyes. Letting go, losing ourselves & not caring at all. I guess reconnecting to our past is like our tiny oasis from the big life of a grown up. A refuge from all the calculating. Being careful. Making decisions. Doing responsibilities. Sometimes you just want to recapture that part of you & use it in your daily routine. But it's just sometimes too hard now to look at things as if it was your first time. Everything now is just ordinary. I'm being nostalgic. So shoot me.

The oldest photo that surfaced on my network was our kindergarten class picture. And of course finding some of the other kids on it. So you can imagine what sort of other photos have been ransacked & shared. Our batch's 20th Year Reunion, both in Manila & the US, were a success because of this online network. You connect & you reconnect like 20 years didn't pass by. You reconnect like images flashing on how those 20 years have passed. So it doesn't really matter where you are. Just one click & it feels like you've never left. For a moment, there is no distance.

I really think I wouldn't be able to live without internet. Shoot me.

going past french clichés

2009-07-29T14:27:00.005+02:00

Around this same time nine years ago, I arrived the City of Lights with awe & a pocketful of wonder to a brimming future. Just a year & a half shy of a decade of bonjours, the French cities, food & wine, and the French, going past my first impressions of France, how real are the clichés? From a happy tropical island to a charming country where speaking in public transportations is frowned upon.

Posing by La Tour Eiffel on the summer of a new century

The French and soaps. When my cousins found out I was getting married to a French, they all started a banter on how the French are hygienically challenged for being the perfume capital of the world. Although I did have the same impression, it was not for the French alone but for the Occident. This may go back through history & a lot of centuries ago where hygiene evolved. The French are as much hygenically conscious & like all over the world, there will be occasions of a funky metro ride or a stinky air pocket by the men's section. But no, the French are not smelly even if they're not too fond of wearing perfumes.

The French don't speak english. It has always been the main worry in visiting France, travellers stock up with pre-constructed French phrases. France have always devotedly preserved their language & I even learned that in coping up with the current progress, every english word would have its french equivalent. Computer to l'ordinateur, email to le courriel (short for courrier électronique), which I find absolutely normal & amazing. And even through all these efforts, a lot of the French would tell you that their language & its many dialects are dying in its literary form. But the generations to come are more interested in being fluent in english. It is even now part of every job qualification. It's not that they don't want to speak english, you'll be amazed how a lot of the French are just embarassed to put their speaking ability to the test.

The French are snotty & snobs. I agree that being one of the most visited countries in the world is not a reason for the unpleasant reception of the French. When I arrived Paris, I felt so unwelcomed. I was even terrified to go inside shops. I got by with my pathetic French while pointing to things I like. Afterall, buying is the easiest thing to do when there's a language barrier. But moving to Marseille from Paris, there was already an obvious change of ambiance. Although Marseille can be extreme as to be superficial, it is said here that the weather greatly affects one character. Then from Marseille to Spéracèdes, there is once more a big difference. I am absolutely at awe how charming the locals are.The thing is the more you get out of the big, touristic cities, the more people become pleasant. Indeed the French can be snotty & a snob but a little smile & a little crooked French can most of the time startle them & melt away this most famous cliché.

The French customer service is rude. There is a difference between being a snob & having a rude service because you can be snotty with good service or you can have both snotty & a rude service. The worse kind. Even after all these years, I still find the service in France rude in varying degrees. Not even a smile or fluent French can give you a good service. Even this barrio is not spared. It is not to say that good service is hard to find. Well, you can find it in 5 star hotels & restaurants or in those little shops in the corner. No worries, the French do not really seem disturbed when you seek their service, it's only because customer service is non-existent here. This can be traced back to the relation they have for their jobs that reflect on their unending strikes & protests.

The French are cocky. I have always associated the term bourgeois to the classy & wealthy and apparently it is likewise identified to the French. In a different bourgeois kind of way. If there's one thing that impressed me the most about France, it would be their nationalism. On one hand, their arrogance can be rooted right here for the French have always aspired for the best. With its innumerable wine varieties, around 350 kinds of cheese, its delectable gastronomy and enthralling cities to small villages & landscapes, they have been forever portrayed the epitome of elegance on film & books throughout time. Not to mention their passion for politics. On the other hand, it is plain cultural. We may consider them arrogant for having a distant character very common with the French. I noticed how they remain loyal to childhood friends & almost do not accumulate the same level of friendship in their lifetime. They are very private people with odd humor because I find them a little bit too serious at times. But the only way to get through the French is on the table with good food & wine, discussing the current political status of France.

Ah, the French. Going past the clichés, how real & relative they are with our own personal experience, France would still be the country everybody dreams to visit. Difficult to get away from the essence of France. The country of romance, in a charming little village, by the patio, with a wonderful rosé wine & some suacissons, listening to Charles Trenet's "La Mer". How cliché is that? You have to find out for yourself.

"Sixty Million Frenchmen Can't Be Wrong" is the first book I bought about France & the French, intrigued by the caption, "(why we love france but not the french)," haven't gone past chapter 1 but it is an intereting read.

Check out my old post, Things that make you go "Huh?!"

doctor overdose

2009-07-21T18:38:00.006+02:00

Before, being healthy for me is staying out of the doctor's office & hospitals. Staying away from pills everytime a tolerable headache comes. Even with the annoying dysmenorrhea. I didn't have an easy reach for medications nor a frequent patient to our family doctor. Well except for instances when my fever shot up to 40° or when I had typhoid. Other than that, I always steered clear of places that smelled like zonrox & alcohol. The only time I was ever hospitalized was at the age of 34. It was not even an emergency nor obligatory, but a voluntary admittance.

Although I wouldn't say I am buffed healthy, I guess I abused my health in a normal amount as any other teenagers do. Or yes, maybe a lot more than usual. This didn't push me closer to doctors or hospitals & I really thought I had a body made of steel or I was plain lucky. But it's probably because I have a fear of zonrox smell. Actually, a low tolerance for pain.

After watching "Dents de la Mer," the French title for the movie Jaws, well it's not really the movie but I wouldn't know what the real title of the show is, I realized I don't have agliophobia. The fear of pain. The show is actually about teeth, presenting all forms of destruction from negligence & dentophobia or agliophobia. One girl, with teeth as hideous as you can imagine, couldn't go through even with the idea of sitting on the dentist chair. At the end of the show, she was still vehemently terrified of the dentist & continued to live with her teeth untouched. And I thought I had fear of doctors.

This year, I have been to doctors & clinics more than I hoped for. I've seen a specialist for my infertility, an anesthesiologist, our family doctor, an OB, an endocrinologist & just today, a radiologist. I'm a champion for injections & I cringe nor faint no more to the prickly sensation of needles. I give myself injections on the belly & I lost the fear of being knocked out in the operating room all naked. But today was different. I had to see the radiologist for an FNA, a Fine Needle Aspiration biopsy of my thyroid nodules. Yes, my thyroid & I can't be friends & it just won't leave me alone. After all this time of being comfortable with needles & hospitals, this procedure got me flinching on how a needle is being poked on my neck for a good 2 minutes. And when the needle is in, you cannot gulp & of course I did, twice, with the needle stuck on my thyroid gland. It was horrible.

Now with two band aids on my neck, the anxiousness of the results of my thyroid nodule biopsy is reverberating inside my head. Hell, I don't want to add an oncologist , among the many others, in my collection of doctors. And I have been told by my endocrinologists (yes, three of them) that thyroid problems come from stress. I've never thought myself as a stressful person before. Did it all begin when I arrived France, or it's the age? Whatever triggered a stress fest in my body causing my antibodies to attack its own, I need to find a real stress buster. For real.

I wonder why it is so damn hard to apply the "bahala na" mantra (I now agree it is magic) outside of the Philippines. How do you truly relieve stress, to the extent of fully letting it go, and I mean detach? Tell me how you do it. You just might save my life.

Next appointment, the dentist.

a boring summer post

2009-07-20T18:17:00.001+02:00

A month into the long awaited summer & what's left of it, I truly appreciate the quietness of our new barrio. If not for lost tourists or passers by to reach a more scenic destination, our neighborhood is almost void of people. Save for sunday markets, occasional garage sales & events in the local clubhouse, which are mainly frequented by locals. One of the joys of having a driving permit is allowing us to live in the most remote places. I can't really say I don't miss the luxury of living a few steps away from the beach because now we have a 15 minute drive to the lake. And this 15 minute drive is the price to be away from the main channel of tourists.

Kayaking in Lake St. Cassien on a gloomy day

So when summer means people moving around, it's always nice to move around & meet friends. The feeling is always different when we meet up on winters. Maybe the sun & the heat reminds us more of home but food intake is always the same. Such as my summers back home are made up of family excursions & watermelons by the beach, roadtrips, barbeques by a friend's pool or lunches at the terrace have now become a part of my summer setting. We appreciate summers here after a long winter even it means places are cramped with tourists & the roads are full.

Thanks to those who visited us in our new barrio. Looking forward to a hopefully yearly thing to touch base, to update & to eat a lot. Thanks to friends back in our old barrio for always giving me a warm welcome everytime I come to visit. Although there's a month or so left of summer, our cocktail welcome drinks are always ready all year round.

Mixing a welcome drink, my favorite Long Island Iced Tea, thanks for the photo, Lynn!
Hoping to see the Parisians again next year & more of the Marseillaises quand même!

monotonous

2009-07-08T19:01:00.000+02:00

10 sec of the fuzz

2009-07-06T09:39:00.001+02:00

The Maillot Jaune (yellow jersey) represent the first in the day's classifications.

I was never a fan of the Tour de France. Not even a slight interest. But on this year's route, it passed by our neighboring barrio. So we thought of grabbing our camera & headed off under the scorching sun. Afterall, it's not like we're paying for seats & they never really passed by our neighborhood for the past years. Well, it was nothing great for you have like 10 seconds of show, the cyclists whizzing by at around 40km. Can't even say who is who. It took them 2 hours to reach our neighborhood from Monaco.

Look ma! no hands! I think he's texting.
We used our camera's video & captured still shots from it. Quality is not the same.

estranged sibs

2009-06-15T11:59:00.000+02:00

The lottery of putting different people in one house.
No wonder all families are psychotic.
But we are binded by more than insanity or blood.
I miss you, my brothers.

boracay, the new hot spot?

2009-05-14T15:50:00.005+02:00

All I have been doing to realize our dream to have a beachfront house in Palawan is to fantasize through internet real estate, forever checking the rates & gape at the paradise we could have if only I would move my ass to have that small nipa hut. So today, I continued to drool online & saw this ad, with my mouth wide open beyond belief:

For Sale: Boracay Island Villa for Sale, lot area 1,500sqm, floor area 500 sqm
Exclusive & quiet location on the north western tip of Boracay Island neighboring Shangrila Hotel & Spa with private access road to baranggay road. This two-storey island villa has 500 sqm total living space with 4 bedrooms, 2 study/office rooms, 1 guestroom, 4 bathrooms, large veranda with a magestic ocean view & profesionally manicured garden. Price: EURO 980,000*

That is 63.4Mphp & 1.3MUSD. That's a price of a very luxurious house here by the French Riviera. The thing is with the Philippine islands, although protected by law that only Filipinos can buy & own land, tourism investors will monopolize the real estate, shooting up the land value that Filipinos wouldn't even afford to buy in their own country anymore. Not only that they make a 10.32sqm island like Boracay into a light studded, concrete paradise, locals are uprooted, selling their land for a small change.

Tourism is one of the Philippine's biggest profits & while it is true that it provides employment to the locals, you can't help but notice more of the downside of a booming island, stripping off nature with lights & buildings, and real estate prices that go up to 980K€. Can they really now sell this much? Or maybe, 980K€ is an imense amount to me & to a lot of people, it's not a lot of money.

*check more of the ad's details here

mondays, some poking & a cop

2009-05-11T11:44:00.001+02:00

Every nice weekend comes a monday & as much as having an ultrasound poke at 7:40 on a monday morning, it's just not the best way to start a week. Plus there's my Dr. Unenthusiastic who saw me for not even 10 minutes & began bombarding me with questions then reproached me for not being too keen on my IVF paperwork. Nevermind if my ovaries are waiting asleep for thirteen days, file has to be in order before everything else. I really find it funny how some doctors can subtly scold you like you're asking for a lollipop after each consultation. But this is another post for another blog.

It's not even 10am & I almost bumped into a police car. A bit in a hurry, I was probably driving a little over the 50km speed limit & ignored the priority to the right where the police was coming from. I stopped for awhile to look at the police mouthing off his displeasure with hand gestures then I ran along like everything was already forgiven & forgotten. I even did an apologetic wave at him. Aware that the police is just behind me, I tried to stay in the speed limit. After maybe 400 meters, the police quickly passed in front of me & to my surprise was signalling me to pull over. I am scared of the police & what a way to confort it by almost hitting a police a car! I thought this is how it is, just like the way you see in the movies.

The usual licence & car registration then the police told me that he has been signalling me to stop the moment I almost bumped him. He continued that I violated the priority to the right which will cost me 3 points & 150€. Looking at my licence, he added that I'm relatively a new driver starting with 6 points. I didn't really want to correct him when all I said was "oui" but I did say that my probationary period has just finished last January & chuckled a little saying, "Heureusement!" I would really need my 12 points for this. I could feel my face blushing & my ears burning. I violated a tricky road rule, was driving over the speed limit, almost bumping a police car then running away from a cop. He popped my thought balloons & he let me get away with it with a nice remark to drive slowly plus stopping traffic for me. After 7 months of moving here, I never knew if this particular intersection was a priority to the right. What a great way to confirm it. I was lucky. After 3 years of driving, it was my very first time to be actually pulled over like a car chase in very slow motion. Reaching home, I thought I was really becoming too comfortable in driving. My habits are reverting to Manila driving mode which required little rules.

Big days ahead of me & I really can't wait for summer to really arrive.

Metaphors of Life - Image 18 : pause, inhale, appreciate

2009-04-18T10:57:00.003+02:00

the perks of getting lost

2009-04-09T17:17:00.002+02:00

My Maundy Thursday's ritual is doing the Visita Iglesia during Holy Week. My car packed with extra shirts & towels, candies & a big jug of ice cold drink while we go around to visit seven churches around the neighboring villages where I live. Of course the ritual was broken when I moved to France. I continue it by doing the Way of the Cross in the barrio's church.

And today is Maundy Thursday & I don't think I can do seven churches here so when I saw that our barrio's church is closed for repairs, there is little time today to be exploring some old churches in the region of Grasse. I opted for a small chapel near the center. Of course I didn't find it & my parking timer is only for an hour 12 minutes. All I see is the bell tower of the Cathedrale de Grasse. I thought what a nice way to do the Stations in a nice, centuries old Cathedral like the Notre Dame de Puy, of the XII century? After 20 minutes of looking for that chapel, I marched to the center of Grasse, the bell tower as my guide.

On my way to do what I'm supposed to do, I bump into the Musée International de la Parfumerie with its beautiful building facade, then the museums of Fragonard, and down the smallest pedestrian streets I've ever seen yet, animated with colorful shops so typical old French towns. The shops are likewise interesting. There was one maker of troll statues, or creatures you'll find in video games. Then there was one art shop who exhibits art made of batteries, cellfone covers, pc parts. And since I was not really exploring, I didn't bring my camera. I guess I'm one of the few people left with cellfones without cameras. When I found the Cathedral, it was actually the same chapel I was looking for. The internet had a technical problem with words. I ended up doing my Way of the Cross & the rosary with so little time.

I'll be back to do a long overdue exploring of our new place. I got lost with the oldness of this city. It reminded me of the movie, Le Parfum, Histoire d'un Meurtrier. Then it dawned on me how I neglect the time I have to actually visit the wonderful places of France, only just found under my nose. At times happiness is in those little moments of appreciation found just outside your window. Especially when your window is in France.

I miss the Holy Week in the Philippines. There is not a hint of it here & I kind of thank my ritual for keeping it inside of me, a habit that gives a personal inner peace. The real essence of Holy Week is finding in your heart & soul the crosses you carry & your own journey to epiphany. The many deaths & rebirths of merely living that shaped the very you now. Of being so full of gratitude. Sometimes it is in getting lost that we find such beauty in the world.

May your Easter continue to hatch good things in your days.

gobble up!

2009-04-07T14:15:00.001+02:00

The Philippines have forever been sidetracked when it comes to the richness of its food. It couldn't be described as the best in Asia but it definitely has character so Filipino in taste. Living in a country where it's gastronomically known around the world, I was often asked what a typical Filipino menu is & I always list the common main dishes as adobo, sinigang, karekare then end up feeling irrelevant to a country where food is part of their culture. Keeping food warm, a common site in the Philippines

It is always when everything is out of sight that we naturally ransack the tastes you were practically born with. As disgusting the bagoong (shrimp paste) is, I freak out without a stock in my fridge. The taste of dried fish brings me home to bright & warm breakfasts. The sinigang broth reminds me of noisy family lunches. Having minimal access to these tastes logically made me appreciate more what is pinoy. With 7,107 islands, there would be as much ways to make adobo & with so many islands, there is as much island specialties to which I admit, have not tasted even half of them.

So one day, when my friend & I were arguing about the French having recipes for bulalo, the bone marrow, she told me as a matter of factly that Anthony Bourdain, featured it on his show "No Reservations." The curious me, and so out of the loop, I watched his episode on the Philippines. Watch No Reservations -Philippines (on this link, follow the trail to the 5 part episode) & tell me if you really know much about Filipino cuisine. And they didn't feature as much specialty. Do note the Pampanga scene - "Pampanga first before the Philippines."

The Filipino cuisine can boast its diverse menu. Sure the presentation sometimes can spoil your appetite but the taste is distinct that can be likewise rooted from the assortment of its ancestors. Sure I don't eat so much of anything from the inside but the French cuisine have been doing this dating back to many centuries ago & made popular by the peasants. They just have the language to make it more alluring & class. While the French call it the "boudin noir," the Filipinos call it the "betamax." Whoever names food betamax?!

The mixing & the fusion from many different forefathers have made the Filipino cuisine special in its own way. The taste might not cater to everybody but I am proud of the savors I was born with. In a country where people eat 5 times a day, who said food is not part of their culture? There are still so many to explore & discover in Philippine food & like in France, every region, or island has its own specialty. How much do you know your Filipino cuisine? Kain na!*

You can also watch No Reservations -France (again follow the trail to the 5 part episode) & note the rat trap shop from the Pixar movie Ratatouille. It's freaking real!

* Kain na! is the Filipino's bon appetit, loosely translated as "Let's eat!"

i am woman, hear me roar

2009-03-25T17:24:00.001+01:00

Being a woman is complicated. There are so many things that embody a woman's essence. Hormones? Full moon? The morning sun? But still nobody really knows what makes a woman the woman that she is. And for now, this is not really about the glory of our womanhood. Being a woman myself, I still wonder why I can be such a bitch sometimes, and how some women can also be one under a nice blue sky.

The subject on feisty women came up when I happen to bump into a number of mommies in their best environment: bringing the kids to school. Like Hazel's post on the same thought, you begin to wonder why as busy as it is to be a mother, they still have time to gossip. Or as adults, can still be like the highschool bullies. And I don't even have a child to bring to school, I just happen to live just beside one.

I had to bring Vidar to the cat lady for our 4 day trip to Switzerland & I was running a bit late. Carrying the 7 kilo Vidar in his box, I stepped out of the house & noticed right away one mommy sharply looking at me from head to toe. Probably not a cat lover? As I approach them, four mommies in total with three kids scattered around the 1 meter wide passage way to the parking, nobody budged an inch. Can I just shove this kid a bit to the side with Vidar's box? And as I was ready to step ahead, one mommy just happen to drop the pacifier she was holding in front of me, slowly picked it up & said, "Ooops." I glared at her face & she looked away. After almost a half hour, I came back finding them now in the park, engaged in what I can assume, if not the intent morning gossiping, are brainstorming for the best school system for their children. Fine by me as long as they don't block our way.

I remember one time I went with a friend to pick up her kids from school. As we were walking from the parking, I noticed a group of mommies who stopped speaking as we passed by in front of them & literally gave us the side eye from head to toe. I asked my friend what that was all about & she said it's nothing new. She said they've always been like that then we shrugged them off. But the side eye. I haven't seen one since I was 14.

One teacher in the school here would take her cigarette break just in front of our house. And everytime I happen to go out when she's there, I'd say bonjour & she would just wryly smile back at me. I guess she was not too happy when I expressed my slight discontent of her closing my window shutters, for a few times, to sit on our bench out front. The other day, Charlotte, our neighbor's daughter saw me pass by in front of the school & asked me if she could introduce me to her friends, five of them all huddled by the gate, as "la dame qui parle en anglais" (the woman who speaks english). With all the commotion, I saw that the teacher saw us from afar & the next day, for the first time, she magically acknowledged my courtesy with a bonjour & a shy smile.

As a girl, I've done all the side eyes, the gossiping, the mocking but as a woman, I don't really remember doing those when I'm out with my girlfriends. The mommies I know are even so busy that they don't even have time to loiter around the schools. It's not really a French thing or an asian thing. It is just simply being part of a woman. I actually admit that when my husband asks me what's even going on in my head, I would stop & actually do wonder.

But I do wonder how different women from different cultural backgrounds can differ from one other. Can a Filipina be so different from a Thai? Or the French woman from a Spanish? Women are really complicated. Even their roar is complicated.

if not forward

2009-03-09T14:10:00.002+01:00

Since my year started with an absolute blah & not being in the very hippest place in my life right now, I think looking back merits a stub of limelight. Because when some days seem to be a bit bleak, we reach out for some small comfort, reverting to old habits. But since home is far away & some years ago, we learn to seek comfort in a place we're just beginning to likewise find solace, in a completely different envirnoment. The sky reaching down to the valley on my kitchen window view.

My courage & bravery for leaving home was applauded by family & friends in France when I arrived. Being 11,000km away & 7 hours apart from the life I know seemed unimaginable to them. Although it was quite big to venture into the unknown, it was not like climbing Mount Everest. Being away provided so much growth. And it's not just about the delight & trouble of autonomy but of self-reliance. Where independence was more synonymous to being alone in a good way.

It is only when the zest of the new & the discovering fades away, or when you are unfortunately confronted by difficult situations that you actually realize how far 11,000km are & how long the 7 hour time difference is. On how encouraging it is to know that your family is just a drive away, the assurance of their mere presence. It then becomes unimaginable to be so far away. Especially when you just need to hold more hands while you're facing the many shadows of fear that comes with adulthood.

And for the years of being away from the comfort zone, and when all voices of comfort sometimes fail, I found available remedies here. Although some are irreplacable, they do wonders in ways, or make me dream of home when days are dreary.

I used to find comfort in barbeques, taho & fishballs probably rich in bacteria. Now they are replaced by the colors of sweet patisseries, an expensive indulgence that goes to a bigger belly, bigger hips & flabby arms. Strawberry tartes...

No matter how trivial weather talk is, there is always comfort in the sun. I used to have it almost 8 months a year & now I have an erratic change of weather. Now I really see the big difference not having the sun for 4 consecutive days. Spring is always to look forward to!

I have always found serenity in sunsets. Driving the roads of traffic then of nothingness to see it set on you. And you know that the farther you go, there would be sea & sand. Now I just see its illumination when the sky turns orange. But we have such a beautiful sunrise.

There was an unconscious security in the noises of your home. Now replaced by the peace of your own sound, aloneness becomes a confusing word.

The occasional Happy Hours are replaced by a glass or two of white wine in the bubbles of the bath tub sprinkled with bath salts. It's almsot like a good 250php home massage back home.

The bright malls lined with shops & restaurants are now replaced by weekly markets in the town's centre, out in the open air. I normally don't find what I want but there is as much hustle & bustle.

And the thing that still amazes me is how with the abundance of good food in France, I still crave for sinigang, artery exploding lechon kawali, arroz caldo, stinking daing, to name a few for comfort food. And it does make me feel better every single time.

Sometimes I forget I'm in France. I am only reminded of it when I think about how you can never ever feel alone back home even if you want to. Last year was a tough year & this year does not look so promising. But I'm still holding my breath. With strawberry tartes, bubble baths & sunrises.

take me out

2009-02-03T19:43:00.002+01:00

Holiday Cheers

2008-12-21T16:05:00.003+01:00

May you all find the joy & serenity in your days,
and the gratefulness for everything in it.

creepy coincidences

2008-12-13T18:40:00.004+01:00

Our new home is only heated by a fireplace on the first floor. The rest of the house is heated through a pipe system embedded inside the thick walls. The trouble to find firewood in our area was such a headscratcher. Not only that it doesn't get too cold in our region during winter, houses with chimneys are all for aesthetic purposes. So they either don't sell it by stacks or the price is unbelievable. My in-laws get a cubic meter of wood for 35€, all nicely cut & clean. Yes, they live in a cold region of France. With the crazy weather these days, we settled to get them the easiest way. They delivered it today, the truck backed up in front of our house, dumping all the wood, 2 cubic meters of them, on the floor. I looked at all the wood with dismay. They were cut in a weird way, some might even come with a dwarf *knocking on wood* Our first fire

So we started sorting & piling them when an old man passed by & sparked a conversation with, "Those are not good firewood at all." My husband & I laughed & said we obviously know that. Then he informed us that our neighbor, the one across, just passed away recently. I truly felt sad hearing it. That explains her closed windows for a couple of days now. She was 90. I've seen her a lot of times from our kitchen window since we moved in just 2 months ago. She would sit on her chair under the sun, or feed her black cat & the old man did say she had a turtle in the garden. Eversince my dad passed away, I don't feel the same way about death as I used to.

Then I twinged remembering the time we moved to Carry le Rouet 7 years ago. A couple of months after moving in, our neighbor's husband passed away. He was about 50-60+ looking at his widow. I remember it clearly because we heard about it after the funeral & we didn't know how to deal with it since we really just moved in. It's a strange & creepy coincidence but mostly we get the old people as neighbors. It's really not a good way to move in a new place like this, is it? We'll be moving again in a year or two. Who wants to be our neighbors?

Ok, no smarty pants with scary ideas. I won't be able to look out my kitchen window for now.

still the same

2008-12-12T16:37:00.002+01:00

After a whole day of waiting & traveling, we reached the cold, gray & wet Paris at 9.30pm. Last week was a week of meeting old friends. One from a 2 year Qatari adventure & the other two from way back Sesame Street, Voltes V & Sweet Dreams books.

Kala & I trying to make a pout. I have to admit, we absolutely need more practice.

Great friendships can be as old as the Notre Dame. But geez, that's old.

When friends go way back to more than 20 years, you can't help telling each other that you all haven't changed. For a moment there, about 10 years ago to be exact, I almost believed that people do change in time, in a different environment. But being with old friends, the ones you grew up with, old habits just come out begging for freedom. The teasing, the old & new stories & that familiar comfort are the rewards of a great friendship. No matter how old you are, or where you are, you can never really so much change that essence that is you. One week with old friends brought our home with them to Paris.

Although all of us needed a whole weekend of recuperation from four nights of drinking & sleeping at 3am then waking up at 9, the best map when you're a little lost is to reconnect with old friends.

Thanks, mes amies, I needed that piece of home.

moving in

2008-11-14T14:58:00.003+01:00

One day, the husband & I were speaking about the few but significant differences between Marseille & Nice. I started with how convenient having Marignane Airport so close & easy to reach, IKEA being on the way. On how great it is to have a train station within walking distance, but there's always the thing about living in a touristic area. After 7 years of a tourist-laden home, I was ready to retreat to the mountains. Spéracèdes church in the tiny centre ville.

I was telling the husband how Nice & Cannes are way more going to be uncomfortably flooding with tourists than in Carry le Rouet or Marseille. Adding that tourists will be more international compared to the local ones in our old place. I continued telling him that already our neighbors seem to be Belgians & he did mention that our other neighbor three houses down the street is German. Then, with a long pause as if to break a bad news, the husband then tells me, "But you are a Filipina." I sigh.

After being reminded that I am indeed a tourist to the eyes of everybody & after all the comparisons, which are a handful to me, moving in is not just about packing & leaving, unpacking & putting things in place. It is about knowing where you are & where things are. It is all about feeling "at home."

Just around a week after moving in, I woke up with a panic. In my head I was telling myself that I have again to pack & go home to Carry. Then on another morning, we had winds similar to the mistral, blowing our window shutters open as I blinked with the brightness of a sun rising by the mountains. I was pissed but in awe seeing the sun like the yellow of a fried egg just by our bedroom window. Every morning, I stay a good 5 minutes staring out by our kitchen window, to the mountains backdropped by the sky meeting the sea, down to the valley, to the home we are now slowly learning to like. The view of the sea behind the valley of Mandelieu or something by our kitchen window beside the PC table.

When the husband & I strolled around our new barrio, it felt like time rewinded to 30 years ago. Little paved streets, a brasserie as the villager's meeting spot, the post office in a small room with a nice lady behind a glass window, a small store, boulangerie & boucherie. The locals are impressively pleasant. Not too reserved & not too welcoming. What really made a difference is being able to speak French. A quick chat with the neighbor, or the woman in the dry cleaners is very comforting. The other day, I was always hoping not to bump into our neighbor's little girl. She would stop me on the road and repeatedly ask me if I can speak in english & start firing millions of questions. When moving in a small village like Spéracèdes, there is an unconscious need to follow a silent decorum not to alter the quiet life of the villagers. Below, the village's old public laundry.

Things are almost all in place in our new home except for some of my old habits. Like throwing some trash on the floor by the bathroom sink where the trashcan used to be in our old place. Subtly cursing between breaths when I can't find a place for a lot of our things. Panting most of the time going up & down the stairs especially when cleaning or even just when you forget something. But we're sure glad not to be in an apartment anymore. At first it felt weird not to hear the neighbors by the staircase, or the marching of the heels. The 7 years of residing with 7 other families in one building. Since our house is divided into three floors, the husband & I would say that we have each other as neighbors.

Le Lac Saint Cassien, just 15 minutes from Spéracèdes

Looking at the wonderful view by my kitchen window, I likewise wonder beyond this change, a new future unfolding. Nothing left behind and hoping more to add in this next chapter. After the unpacking & arranging, it's time again to live.

Metaphors of Life - Image 17 : Sit with Me

2008-11-14T14:57:00.002+01:00

dustbusters, going & leaving

2008-10-10T22:36:00.000+02:00

It's not really normal to ask your friends to help you clean your new house before you even move in but cleaning was like a good excuse to show them how to get there & have a tiny girl's night out. So to Hazel & Cathy, my big heartfelt gratitude for helping me make our new home smelling Javel clean. Hazel's scrumptious crispy pata, complete with its rightful sauce, gave us all the power to rupture all of our gloves from all the scrubbing.

Thanks so much, girls!

Asking them to come over our new home likewise reconfirmed me how nice our new place is. We haven't even moved in yet but bumping into the locals have already showed me how warm & friendly they are. I've never liked change but I am always given the opportunity to learn to accept it. Going & leaving is always sad but the people & places will continually be a part of our big panorama of life.

Will then be next posting from our new home, by the window with the view of the sea from afar. There's again so much getting used to. It's just a matter of getting used to.

my allegory

2008-09-22T19:48:00.004+02:00

when you have to go

2008-09-20T12:33:00.005+02:00

and before boxes start piling up, mental pictures get packed with them...

thank you girls for giving me a reason to drive the 2 hours....

good morning, yesterday

2008-08-31T19:42:00.001+02:00

Receiving this old photo on my email yesterday morning made me fold my worries in 4, stuffed them in a small box pushed under the bed. 11 years doesn't seem so long but when you're living life, you hardly notice the changes. We wouldn't have imagined how we got to where we are right now 11 years ago.

But sometimes, there are changes that are impossible not to notice. In more than a month, we'll be moving to a new place, restarting a new phase in our life. Everything will be fresh & more discoveries are in order. Although I have always believed that it's just a matter of geography, as when I arrived France 8 years ago, every place is unique. You just can't help but begin anew.

When I wondered about "being home" & being somewhere else, I just can't help having that twinge in my heart for leaving this little space we grew to love for 7 years. It's not only the four corners of our apartment. It's the morning & afternoon sun. The tree by our balcony & the happy plants that adorn it. The little unnoticeable conveniences like having a parking just beside, the mailbox just in front, and having everything you need within walking distance. The sea just a few meters away. And certainly Marseille, in a weird way, is something my husband & I (especially him) just fell in love with.

Although we're moving only 2 hours away, Spéracèdes is a whole new different landscape. It is a town in the border of the Var & Alps Maritimes region, still in the Provénce-Alps-Côte d'Azur department in the south of France. Instead of the sea, we'll have a lake. Our view of the sea is replaced by the verdant mountains of the Alps, the city of Cannes & part of the sea from afar. Our apartment will become a maison de village (a typical old French house village) with 3 floors - living room on the ground floor, kitchen on the second & 2 bedrooms on the third. Rather than a hyped touristic place, we'll only have children laughing & crying from the school just beside or the sound of silence of this arriere pays, loosely translated as backcountry. When the movement is not the same as from Manila to France, it still reminded me of how it felt.

When all that is changing for us, we're also moving to another phase in my "subfertility." When I received the results of a relatively new bloodwork, the Anti-Mullerian hormone, I'm in waiting to exactly know what it really means. Even if my research gave me a rather bleak explanation of my results, I will wait for confirmation in 2 weeks for my OB appointment to exactly know where I stand. This is another realization in my life that needs more growing up to do.

11 years is long. My friends & I have gone through a lot of changes in our lives. But yesterday brought us even after almost 30 years now to come together & say "we're not doing bad at all." Because there is always good in change.

manks, thanks for this wonderful surpise

France: where "courtesy" has no translation*

2008-08-19T17:32:00.002+02:00

France is known for so many things. The great wines, the smelly cheeses & the Eiffel Tower. But where there's an abundance of tourists, there is somewhat a lack of courtesy when it comes to client service. I bet anybody who set foot in France experienced some kind of harsh encounter may it be in the restaurant or in the little shop of souvenirs. During my training in 2004, France was voted the worse in client service in the hotellerie sector for Europe. But to actually live here made me see that isolated moments of kindness do exist in some corners of France.

But not today.
It's August. The last leg of the holiday craze & probably half of the workforce in France is still relishing the summer heat. At 10.30, I called the real estate agency & I was answered by a woman, obviously in a hurry because she speaks a mile a minute & as if without any interest, she asks me to call back before noon. And so I did, the same woman, the same words: call back in 20 minutes, as if not giving me a chance to at least ask her some questions. I told myself that this woman will never get my name & number. The third time I called, nobody was still available to speak with me & I started to get pissed.

"Is there anybody else I can speak to?" I asked with a firmer voice. "I don't know how else I can get a hold of your colleague who handles the rents." Then in a more precise tone of impatience than the last two calls, she started to ennumerate the reasons. A lot of her colleagues are on vacation & that they are drowning with phonecalls. And still, there was no courtesy to actually tell me this nicely & ask my contacts. Isn't it afterall her job? When I started to explain that I just wanted to know if the ad was still good, she cut me by telling me to wait on the line. Now that I am fuming mad, it was another woman who apparently went back on the line. And since I was already raging mad, I was saying that it's been the third time I call, I can't get anybody that maybe it's because of my accent.

To which she replied, "Are you insinuating that we are racists? We don't really like this kind of free comments. You should first know what kind of company we are. We have employees with different nationalities ...." I stopped her by telling her that's not what I think. I explained, containing my burst of anger tears, that it's been the third time I call, there was no interest in what I need since she didn't ask for my contacts & that since they are so busy, there was no patience to give me service due to my accent, on which the other woman might have difficulty to understand, as I have difficulty to explain what I needed when the person on the other end is like tapping her fingers on the table, sighing, waiting for that pause to tell you to just call back. In the end, I did say sorry that she thinks of it that way after all her power speech.

In the first place, she even had the nerve to accuse me of calling them racist when it is not really about racism. Real estate agencies here have very little interest for rentings. We experienced this when we moved from Paris to Marseille, and in the Var region recently where agencies will give you a list of other agencies. So when a voice with an accent is inquiring about renting, there's even less interest for them. She made it sound that their company is with good standing while one of them cannot do a simple job of phone courtesy. The problem with dealing with the French in the service sector is that you are the customer, giving money but you have to beg for their simple attention to give you the service you actually do need. There's always a struggle for courtesy around here. The other day at the lab, when I asked the woman about my payment, she didn't budge a strand of her hair, as if she was lost in her own world. And I asked her twice & got a response on the third when I firmy said, "Madame!" What's worse is that you get used to it & you get all teary eyed for the very few simple courtesies extended to you, to which everybody deserves.

Believe me, I am not a difficult client at all. A difficult patient for doctors, yes but not as a client. I can even end up buying something I really don't want or need if the client service is good. You'd think that in between the bonjours & au revoirs would come a simple courtesy with their jobs. Do tell me, is France's lack of courtesy not alone?

*Thanks Kala for the great title for this post :)

20 toes in the sand

2008-08-19T13:42:00.001+02:00

"Ok, first find your exit buddy." Dory grabs on to Marlin, Crush reconfirms, "Do you have your exit buddy?" After Squirt gave out the proper exiting technique to the swirling vortex of terror, I thought I was lucky to have a buddy to go through the whirl of life's eddies. I know I am capable to extract sentimental crap from cartoons. Believe me I could cry buckets of my inner child's tears from these talking animals. I guess a lot of it comes from the gratitude of having a handful of really great friends. But today, it's about one particular buddy, going a long way back, who loves the sunsets as much as I do, while we listen to Edie singing about being by the sea.

We reach a certain age where it's sort of difficult to create the kind of friendship we have with our old friends. Some friendships take years to build, some will take petty disputes but will turn out to be one of the greatest people and some you know it's for a lifetime from the very instant you meet. But friendship is not about whom you've known the longest, it's about who came & never left.

Then through the years, you realize that great friendships are not made with being the same, or by having the constant presence of each other. Nor is it by being in total agreement all the time. In life, we'll have different friends who will be there for different reasons. Friends who will laugh your troubles away. The ones who listen with empathy even if you're breaking their ears off. Those who you are comfortable telling almost anything from the most mundane to the most classified. Friends who you know would totally support you even in craziness. Some would be the ones who are totally the opposite which could enlighten you. You have your bitching buddies. Then if you're lucky, you can have friends who can be all that. And as we grow older, we manage to mix a new world of characters, as we bumped into life, facing our own worlds. And for a moment, when you reach out, there are those who you will always pick up where you left off.

There will always be 20 toes in the sand while you watch the sunsets.
Happy birthday, dear mankie. I talked about friendship like a 6 year old.

Metaphors of Life - Image 16 : Take Me Home

2008-08-13T16:57:00.001+02:00

we are all not totally equal

2008-07-29T15:22:00.001+02:00

It's always complex everytime I visit my gynecologist. Thoughts are shooting everywhere, emotions scattered like splattered jell-o on the floor. And there's nothing really new, I still have an unexplained infertility & now I really don't know what to make of it. Timing? To be deserving? Thinking too much? Obsessive? To just let go? Be busy with other things? It's just you cannot really talk about it like the weather. Nobody can understand my shooting thoughts & my scattered emotions unless you're reproductively challenged as I am.

It is an individual calvary. A thwarted anticipation in permanence, a see-saw of emotions. But the answer is actually very simple. We are all just not totally equal. Not everybody can have a child. It is one thing we don't have control over. It's a miracle as much as it's a mystery. And it's not as if I'm at the end of my rope in my mid-thirties. It's just that if a woman's most fertile stage is at the moment she had her period & the only amount of eggs she is born with drastically diminish at her late 20's, so why are we only ready to be parents in our 30's? The twist of nature. I could have already tried having a baby at 18 & have ditched any form of protection if I knew I'd have it difficult.

In the 6 years we've been reproductively challenged, say actively challenged for around 3 years & about 2 years of challenge suspension, we have been questioned & teased. I have been dazzled with tales of other people's miracle. And I have been showered with every imaginable advice. The most common is to "relax" and not think about it. They say that stress causes your body to pressure your egg thus pressuring the performance of the sperms as well, if there is really such a thing. But I cannot begin to describe how it feels to have it so hard while others have it so easy. Then they say I should constantly keep the spark of hope, to be always positive, and I am. Even if it is crushed every month. Then in the end, the responsibility falls on my shoulder like two worlds of blame because I just couldn't relax & for a moment was in despair.

Then there is the debate as to when you should start seeking medical intervention. Is it your age or the age of your ovaries & eggs? And there's the unanimity of the couple when they think it's time. As to which time to take - your age, the state of your reproductive system & the "feeling" of the couple - adds to the complexity of being reproductively challenged. It is one neglected facet in a woman's life. Giving birth is so natural that not being able to without reason falls in the hands of telltale. But there is no way to describe how it feels every single month. The monsters of hopelessness you desperately try to shoo away because of the fear it'll be all your fault why it didn't happen.

After everything that has been said, I am now torn on where I should be.
I am done with the dwelling.

Image was taken from a website on Reproduction. I couldn't find the address anymore.
"Reproductively challenged" is Charlotte's words in Sex & the City series.

bad fur day

2008-07-28T22:52:00.001+02:00

These days Vidar has been a bit odd, doing things he normally doesn't do. He's moody but cuddly. He's been limping now for days but he darts around like Dash in The Incredibles. He's hanging around us more than usual. We find him constantly seeking for belly rubs while he's on his back on the floor. Tonight, considering his size, Vidar tried to go in a shoebox.

If cats do have a sixth sense, he's probably trying to pack himself. I guess he knows something big is going to happen.

Vidar on a normal cat day by the window watching the life in our barrio

pinoy by heart & on paper

2008-07-25T17:34:00.001+02:00

When I was complaining about the processing of my Dual Citizenship here, a lot of people asked me why I still want to be a Filipino Citizen when I already have the French. This surprised me a bit but it never entered my mind not to be a Filipino on paper. It was only when the Philippines passed the Citizen Retention & Re-acquisition Act of 2003, or RA 9925, that I applied for the French nationality. A country recognizing Dual Citizenship is a great privilege because there are only a few countries (website not updated) who do. Left, my Certificate of Oath of Allegiance & new Philippine passport after acquiring Dual Citizenship

But my complaining was abruptly stalled & I had a chance to do it in Manila. Apparently, with all the red tape & corruption I experienced, and simply the hassle of doing paperwork in the Philippines, I have to admit that the Philippine Embassy in Paris has improved by leaps & bounds in the paperwork department. Although I didn't inquire directly for the procedure in Manila, a friend informed me that she had to hire a lawyer & the processing will be at least 6 months. This turned me off & I have to be actually grateful I had an easier option here in France.

And so finally I was able to file my application in Paris & off we went for our oathtaking. On May 23, 2008, Hazel & I went together to be a Filipino on paper. Although I thought that it was unnecessary, reciting my Oath of Allegiance to my motherland was quite moving, in front of the Philippine flag, a portrait of GMA & all. Below, Oath taking with Hazel & with Consul Rosalita S. Prospero

Today, I just received my new Philippine passport *yay!* I still have the old, non-machine readable since the embassy is finishing their stock of old passports. Which is not bad because it is more than a passport to me. It's my proof of citizenship. And besides, I still get to smile & be beautiful in a passport photo. The guy in the photo shop couldn't believe that I can smile for a passport picture. So the trouble a smile can bring is yet to be discovered.

Another issue was when a Filipino friend with an Italian citizenship asked me how I ever lost my Philippine Nationality. Since the Philippines didn't recognize Dual Citizenship until 2003, Filipinos who acquired another nationality automatically lose their Filipino citizenship. It is here that we retain or re-acquire it. The procedure is relatively new & it will improve with more years. Hopefully in a few years, the RA 9225 won't be necessary at all. That we won't automatically lose our Filipino Citizenship. We are still fortunate to have an embassy with more experience on this.

The procedure is actually easy. As long as you have your official documents with you & you don't need to have it sent from Manila, it'll be a breeze. You can call the Philippine Embassy in your area & request for an RA 9225 Application Form which is sent by mail. Requirements are normally the following:

passport size photos, any proof of Philippine Citizenship (birth certificate, old passport, voter's ID, marriage certificate indicating Philippine Citizenship), foreign passport, certificate of naturalization & its official translation, proof of payment, marriage or report of marriage if married, oath of allegiance

Remember to only submit photocopies. The embassy might request original copies to be sent. If so, you will then be asked to write a letter to the Consul why you cannot send the originals. I know such a waste of time. You will be then given an appointment for your oath taking & voila! As usual, you will always need to follow up.

The Dual Citizenship is not for everybody, so grab it if you can.
For me, being a pinoy by heart is not enough until you are on paper.

a corner of bliss, Palawan

2008-07-25T13:55:00.004+02:00

If there's one island more enchanting than the rest of the Philippines, it would be Palawan. It's like a distant paradise seemingly inaccessible but promises little corners of bliss. The Visayas area has been a more popular destination for local tourists because at first glance, Palawan is known for its luxurious islands off the mainland of El Nido. But it's a 650km tip to tip stretch, has the western & eastern side of the sea making it nature at its best. The only thing about that is it makes travelling inside the island an adventure. At very little time, we were only able to map out two towns on the western side of the archipelago: Port Barton & Sabang. The beach in the Underground River, Sabang

Being first timers of Palawan, it's hard to choose a destination while taking to consideration your transportation & your holiday mode. The island is still developing by land. There's only one main highway that stretches from south to north. Plus, we noticed how costly it is to travel around. Accomodations are surprisingly good at affordable rates. Power is also in progress. Most places do not have electricity & generators work on schedule, normally from 6am to 10am & at 6pm to 12mn.

Like any other capital, Puerto Princesa is a busy little town with so much to do. Although it has only been our jump in & off to other locations, we're sure to be back to visit so many places in the area. What I really liked here is the cost of a tricycle ride. Anywhere to & from the busy part of Rizal Avenue will be 7 or 8php per person when taking it from the terminal, regardless you're alone or not. One driver almost had us but thanks to other honest drivers, we learned fast. We stayed a night at Puerto Pension before heading to Port Barton. Right, islands off Port Baton, children fishing for the day's lunch

Port Barton is about 150km from Puerto Princesa. There is only one bus who can bring you there: Jerry Boy. It leaves San Jose Terminal at 10am every other day & if everything goes well, arrives Port Barton at around 3pm. At 11.30, we stopped over a small canteen in Binduyan for lunch & met a Marseillais through my husband's tabac roulé (loose tabacco, diy rolling), and owner of Hibiscus Garden Inn Resort in Puerto Princesa. Lunch was a 30-45 minute stop & we continued our winding roadtrip to the north. 3 hours to the trip, it started raining hard as we exited the main road to a rough road literally with big stones. In just a couple of meters, we had to stop & the driver turned off the engine. Apparently, there was a jeepney who needed help in carrying its engine, which happen to fall off in the middle of the road. But this was not only the commotion. Below: Jerry Boy & the road to Port Barton on a rainy day, a truck already stuck

The rain had made the dirt road into sticky mud. All passengers had to go down & walk through the mud & of all the passengers, I was the most muddy making me more of a tourist than the lone French in the bus. A bit pissed off, I happily washed off in the rice paddies while my husband enjoys this spontaneous event. There were more patches of soft mud on the road but Jerry Boy, despite of sludge & close cliffs on the road, is the only way to Port Barton. This advenutre ride is worth 200php per head. All worth every cent.

We arrived Ysabelle Resort, former Swissippini Lodge & Resort, at past 5pm. Port Barton mainland is a laid back beach, a little jewel after the roadtrip to reach it. With a lot of its surrounding islands, it is known for diving. Doris is the only dive shop in Port Barton. You can never miss Easy Dive (rates on website have changed, credit cards are not accepted). With the diving boat, we were offered to take an island tour. In one of the islands, you will find Blue Cove Resort, a charming paradise with fine white sand & clear waters. They also have a trail to the top of the island for an overview of Port Barton's surrounding islands. Be sure to bring some cash when you go on island hopping because you might discover good bars & restaurants like Blue Cove. The French couple we met in Blue Cove told us that it was the show Koh-lanta (the French Survivor reality show, this year they are again in the Philippines, Camaroan) that made them visit Palawan. It was more than they expected. Left, Port Barton Beach, below, Blue Cove Beach & the resort's bar & restaurant view from the sea

There are two ways to leave Port Barton to Sabang. By boat or by a hired van. Both costs 3000php minimum but negociable. The only problem with the boat is that you have to leave really early & with the hired van, it has to be arranged. There is a boat that comes from Sabang on a regular basis. If you can get the schedule, this would cost less than 500php a head. It's the same with the van. If you find other people with the same destination, you share the cost of the van. With a problem with communication, we were obliged to take the van (actually a Hillux pickup) at 3000php to Sabang. We tried to negociate & all we got was free entrance to the Underground river. It was a 4 hour fast & bumpy ride.

Sabang is home to the Underground River. It is one of the most visited places in Palawan. The tour is organized from the boat ride at 250php to the entrance of 150php per head. If you're adventurous & have great endurance, you can reach the Underground River through the Monkey Trail (or Jungle Trail), a 2 hour trek in the jungle according to the Dutch tourists we met. You can see wild monkeys on the way too. I liked the tour on the Underground River especially our banca chauffer who cracked more jokes than information on the cave. The tour is about 45 minutes. Underground River entrance

Although the beach in sabang is not totally white sands, it is still nice to see a long stretch of beach. The water is great plus our resort is the best we stayed in in Palawan. I would rate Daluyon Resort a 5 star resort thus we had to stretch a bit more for the accomodation budget. After the travelling we did, Sabang was a relaxing spot. We enjoyed the food & drinks on our room's balcony as we prepare to get back to reality. Below, view of the resort from the beach & our room

Palawan has so much paradise to share that needs plenty of time to experience. Because it is relatively a big island, it is hard to choose a destination. You can only do 2 to 3 destinations in one visit to be able to appreciate every place. Our next stop would be in down South on the eastern side & El Nido. This time, I won't forget to bring a spray for bed bugs. My polka dot skin was one of my souvenirs of Palawan. The Philippines truly still boasts of paradise. Can't wait to go back. Below, the view from our room in Sabang & our ride to the Sabang terminal

Please let me know if anyone can share us more info on lands for sale in Palawan. Thanks!

the highlighters

2008-07-19T17:22:00.001+02:00

For the past weeks, I find myself strumming my lips while I try to hatch the "great big idea" of the day. Sitting on my thinking spot by the balcony, my tedious days have taken its toll. Although the list of things to do is getting longer quite a bit by the day, there's nothing much to do while you're still in limbo. And don't make me start babbling about being in limbo & being stuck in the middle.

So I find myself chatting with an old friend relating the highlights of my day. That would be being updated on my laundry & ironing, or doing a general cleaning of the house to buying maps for our next destination & bugging a very lazy cat on our hot but windy summer. Sometimes I really think that I'm losing oxygen in my brain for too much sighing because I do get headaches for being too faineant. You'd say I'm lucky to have all this free time but I envy you more, busy bees!

"I finally found the highlight of my day last night!" I triumphantly announced to my friend. "I finally saw Sex & the City the movie!"

Then she flatly replied, "We're really like people who doesn't have anything to do. We're just thinking of the highlights of our day." I laughed & told her that we are really exactly that. "Then we should be called the highlighters." She added & we both wondered what tomorrow's highlight of the day is. I realized that you cannot be too lazy. And I heartily admitted to being one but highlighting is, without a doubt, hazardous to your health.

carry what you need

2008-07-17T09:13:00.000+02:00

What I don't miss about the Philippines

2008-05-28T19:57:00.005+02:00

There are a thousands things I miss about the Philippines. The two times I've been there it's like I've never left and that is what home makes us feel. And if home is the Philippines, no matter how much you have always craved for everything that is you, there are things that you just cannot stand anymore once you've tasted & been on the other side.

Traffic & driving in Manila. That's right, what's new? This is the national stamp of the country but when traffic has gotten a little bit better even with the humungous cars, it's the discipline & character of the drivers that made me crazy. When my mom & the driver was hit by another car from behind, the guy had the guts to ask them for 5Kphp when they saw it was an old car, a badly coiffed driver & an old lady. He even death threatened our driver. Don't care about morality, my car is more expensive & you look stupid. In the end, the guy hit & ran our driver when they were supposed to meet in the police station. Then there's the constant "I go first" attitude & nobody just wants to give way. The few times we went to Makati, we were stopped by the police twice on issues of vague rules by the stoplight eg. was there a sign on making a turn on red. And I have almost forgotten how busy the roads are in Manila. In one main road, you can have taxis, jeepneys, buses, people crossing, bicycles on the left lane, pedicabs in the middle lane, motorcycles & scooters, all at the same time, all the possibilities that can happen. And everytime I point out this madness, they always remind me how I handled it before, with craziness as well but I've outgrown this craziness due to lack of practice.

Philippine Government Agencies: BIR - if you can't beat them, join them. You will never understand what it means to go through them until you've experienced it. Driving licenses, cedulas & the like does not count. We always find someone to do the biggies for us when it comes to the tough guys of BIR. I was left alone with my mom to do one of those biggies, the form 1801.

For those who had to do the Estate Tax, fear is always the first reaction to it. We know it means big money especially for us common people who has a small piece of land, for privileged people with many pieces of land exactly know what it means, big lawyers & accountants. But our hired humble accountant seemed promising to help us go about the process with the City Hall & BIR. One dry afternoon, we met her City Hall contact who was in charge of the Tax Declaration. This means the land's zonal value & improvements, apparently a very important part of the process. He then informed us, with a voice almost to a whisper while scanning quickly his surroundings, that the paperwork which will normally amount to 150-170Kphp will cost us 70Kphp. Awe was my first reaction but I thought it was reasonable even without a hint of how much the true amount is. We just want to get it over & done with. We just need to talk it over with the rest of the family then I sincerely thanked him for his help.

After one dinner & a night's sleep, the decision was to go for it. The accountant went her way to start the said paperwork. Like a reeking fish, she came back telling us that her contact raised the amount to 120Kphp. So she took it in her own hands & went straight to BIR coming back with the final amount of 90Kphp. Not only that they were all robbing us blind, they had the audacity to negociate our ignorance & situation. We don't even know who was the most corrupt, the City Hall contact, the BIR or our accountant. This caused a dispute among us & my mom insisted of gathering information among her widowed friends. I felt so bad in thanking these sharks.

One mahjong afternoon at her friend's, she was able to collect considerable news & a valuable lesson. Her friend gave us a copy of her form 1801, showed us how to compute & tipped us on the important estate tax table at the back of the form.

In the end, our taxable amount totaled to a negative making us exempted from paying anything at all! Pointing this to our accountant, she tried to debate & convince us of wrong computation & that in the end, it's her first time handling a biggie like the form 1801. My proud mom had the courage now to go to the BIR, kicking out our accountant, to file our Estate Tax by ourselves.

Arriving at the BIR, there were so little signs except for where things are. I was getting too impatient & embarassed of actually being there without a clue on where to start. The best way is to inquire at the information desk without giving out too much of our file just yet. There is something about the BIR that you just cannot really trust. Fortunately, our file was almost ready except for other documents I don't even know when the lady started asking me more about our background. It made me & my mom realize that we cannot make this clean as much as we want to. There will always be something & we'll end up paying people to make things easier for us. In the end, we rehired our accountant for 20Kphp to go through all the hassle. The valuable lesson is you can never be lily white when it comes to Philippine governement agencies. Corruption is at every level. As we speak, our paperwork is still not yet finished. I've never seen corruption so raw, taking advantage face to face without shame & that went up to 120Kphp. Afterall, the BIR & the Customs are the most corrupt department in the Philippines & it will take many generations to disinfect them.

These & among other things make the Philippines. People see it in their own eyes & complain everyday but nothing is done. People live by it because it's as if there's no other choice to be what it is. Yes, what can we do? That is the spice of the country among the beautiful islands that is home.

missing a part of me

2008-04-24T20:52:00.005+02:00

the me in the very near future

the me, maybe in couple of years

and the errr, me in the past

miss you a lot, guys

ebb & flow of time

2008-04-23T19:47:00.004+02:00

If there's one thing that would let you know you've reached France, it would be the silence & the calm. No more busy streets of people & street vendors. No more crazy jeepneys & buses in traffic. No more blazing lights after 10pm. The silence was almost defeaning but at the same time soothing after 4 months of being in a country that is so alive.

Although the first 2 months was a tug-o-war between grieving & the guilt of being on holiday, I savored all that I can of home. I made sure that I ate everything I craved for. Shopped to my heart's content even if I didn't have the courage to brave Greenhills. I spent some time on the beach & drank all the cocktails I want. I tried being with old friends like old times. I spent as much time with my mom & had a sweet reunion with my frenchfry. 4 months or any other length of time wouldn't be enough. When you've gone over the holiday mode & begin to find that space you built almost half of your lifetime, as cliché as it is, nothing do feels like home.

But the silence reverberates in our apartment & you kind of get used to the hopelessness of it when you're in Manila. At 6am, there is already life at my parent's house. The movements other than your own was comforting. Especially during a time of sorrow. It was nearly hard to feel alone & we were grateful for that. But as we move on & life continues, mourning is a very long process. At times you don't even know what to make of it. As if a part of you died. Time is always the answer for everything & patience is like a skill you have to acquire.

As strange as it may sound, the noise, the verve, of the Philippines is what I immediately miss. There was always something to do, somewhere to go & something to eat. As if time never existed. I had a second look at my country & inspite of all the chaos & the craziness, I still definitely would want to live there. There is something about things in contradiction in everyday life. One thing I didn't do is to take as many pictures of what this exactly means.

It has been 2 weeks we came back to France. For now, I'm in the mercy of time, waiting for it to take me to places.

slowly waking up

2008-04-13T16:24:00.001+02:00

Half awake, I groggily examined my husband & the giant ching chang chung* he's holding up for me to see. "Oh, you brought it!" I very surprisingly said. "We can bu..." wait a minute, bed orientation = France, comforters & cold feet = France, head = Manila. My thoughts lost in the trail of my unfinished sentence. Wondering where I am, my husband laughed making me realize that it has been 4 days since we left the Philippines. And with my 4 months of tropical paradise, the jetlag and all, I'm walking dazed between two worlds, from one home to another. Slowly recovering old habits & routine, I know some things will never be the same. Or maybe I have just forgotten how big my cat is.

And how good French wines are. Oh so good.

*a very reliable menthol balm you can find in Manila pharmacies

40 Days

2008-01-22T14:10:00.000+01:00

If there's one thing I learned now,

it will be all about humbleness.

the longest trip

2007-12-17T09:31:00.000+01:00

To get me through the day, I always say to myself that everybody will pass this way.

It's just that passing this way sometimes is the most difficult thing we'll have to face.

Having to go away for now, from my husband & my cat, is just one of the many things I need to face. I'm here in Schipol airport Amsterdam, waiting for my flight back to Manila where I will again face life as we don't normally know.

Thank you for all your thoughts. To Hazel & Kala. To Malou & Cathy.

To my wonderful husband whose support makes me do things I normally wouldn't be able to do.

Life just have to spin your head sometimes.

when things suddenly happen

2007-12-12T20:52:00.000+01:00

Dear Dad,

We always had a funny way of showing love,
at times it was tough & that makes you & me special.
You are a great man.
Be happy. Be free.

to be pinoy again

2007-12-11T23:33:00.000+01:00

I already have forgotten how frustrating it is to deal with any Philippine government agency. Not that I had tormenting experiences with them before in fact a lot of my encounters would even be considered almost delightful, almost a miracle. Although I know the Philippine "culture" on paperworks, I have always practiced the "doing it right" when it comes to applications & procedures because I have forever believed that when you do things right, everything will be okay.

But here I am, 14 thousand kilometers away & tens of French paperworks after, the frustration came creeping back but not because there's a long line to queue or because we're bothered about the bored & disturbed employees who can't smile behind the glass window radiating a silent power among us. It's because of the incompetence & the incomprehensible system that makes you wonder why is it sometimes so freaking impossible to have a smooth processing with our government agencies. Voila, the Philippine Embassy of Paris, bow.

After the long process of gathering my Philippine documents & acquiring my French nationality, I was ready to file my Philippine Citizenship & Re-asquisition Act of 2003, or RA 9225. I thought it would be a breeze. I thought being Filipino again in paper is easy for a Filipino by blood & birth. I normally don't overreact but I can hear you saying, "only in da Philippines," or "what do you want the Philippine nationality for?!"

Just after receiving my French nationality last July, I requested right away the RA 9225 Application Form No. 1. I was told that it is a week processing.
Three months after receiving my French passport & having my Certificate of Naturalization translated, all photocopies of required documents are neatly filed & organized in order in a big white envelope. It arrived Paris after 3 to 4 working days.
On the 5th day, I called them to confirm reception of my file, asked when I can follow up to know our oath taking schedule. She asked me some questions regarding my documents then I was told to call after 4 days.
On the 4th day, I diligently called to have some good news, after all, it will almost be a week. After having my file 5 days in hand, I was informed that my application form is the old one & that they will need to send me the new one. Fortunately, first for calling them back & they mailed it right away & I received it the following monday, filled it up & sent it back without delay.
On the same week, they confirmed receipt of my application form & I didn't hear anything from them for 2 weeks.
Last friday, after a month, which is supposedly a week processing, I receive news that to continue the evaluation of my file, I have to send all original copies of documents submitted by mail.
Yesterday, I called the Embassy to assure that the original documents I need to send are my birth certifcate from NSO & my Philippine passport. They matter of factly told me they won't need the French passport but just the original copy of our French Certificate of Naturalization & continued saying that I cannot have an Oath Taking schedule without this. I was actually assured of how ridiculous & clueless on their part to ask for this one valuable document. The French Tribunal handed us only one original copy with a "guard it with your life" advice. Even after saying that repeatedly & mentioning the checklist found on the Bureau of Immigration official website that only a photocopy of foreign documents are required, my plea fell on deaf ears, without a justifiable reason for this ridiculous demand. On top of that, we were asked to actually explain to the Consul why we cannot send our original Certificate of Naturalization by mail adding, "we're not keeping it naman, we'll give it back to you."

Selective files, mood swings, or the holidays, the reason is dependent on your lucky star. Or finally having more competent people to actually work effectively for the citizens: seriously examining your file & documents for errors or problems & not to give it to you on a weekly installment, strictly following the delay of processing, and original documents normally comes only with the presence of the holder. How much more can you prove the authenticity of your valid & legal documents?

I just want to be Filipino again in paper. Applying for my French nationality was way much easier because the French governement is precise on their procedures. I'll be going back to the Philippines in 2 months. I am torn between trusting the Embassy or processing it in Manila when I get home. Please do bestow priceless information on processing the RA 9225 in the Philippines.

But what really ticked me off is that I had to have my left & right sideviews picture taken for nothing.

Metaphors of Life - Image 15: The Eye that Grasps

2007-11-08T18:45:00.000+01:00

kitchen sink drama

2007-10-21T22:30:00.000+02:00

"France ka na? Cool!" An old friend from high school told me some weeks ago when we found each other in our alumni group. The Eiffel Tower, the great food & the elegant language is cool but behind the beauty of having to live in a country like France, or any first world country that is, is the way of life: you have to do everything, as in literally everything.

Yes, no more manong & manang, inday & boy*. At first, I felt a flattering sense of independence. The sensation of being a grown up with real responsibilities. Now I'm just screaming for a manang, realizing this is real life & that the little chores of living is a part of my feeling old overnight. Sometimes when a heavy week schedule at work & being chemically imbalanced get in the way of daily routine, it's just hard not to grumble. Especially when there's no manang to do the house work when you come home from work. It's not as if we had an entourage of helpers back home, it was just easier to find help when needed the most.

But it's a way of life. It is the way things are around here. You drive, you do your grocery, you pack your own groceries, you carry everything, you arrange them in the kitchen, you prepare food, you cook, you eat, you wash the dishes. You wash & iron your clothes. You dirty & clean your house. If you don't feel like doing any of your errands, it will just double the next day. You learn to create a most productive organization with time. Especially for a dilly dallying person as I am & I mean, I dilly dally. Being slothful is important for me & my well being.

My parents happily gave me away to my husband in the hopes that I will learn what I have learned now. I guess I won't disappoint them but aside from learning how to cook & knowing the real labor of house chores, or in short organizing & running a household, it just reminds me of the damn affordable luxury we have back home in the Philippines. There, when you say I want to relax, you can absolutely have it. I feel more first worldly there. And I don't even work full time & we don't have kids yet. I salute all the working mothers.

But behind my erratic & harmless complaining is a beautiful sense of pride. A surge of joy for every delicious meal cooked, for every clean shirt pressed, for every shining floor & that fragrance of your home. You might not see what the big deal is all about but it is part of my growth. So my drama is, no sense of independence or streaks of pride can ever replace a manang.

*household helpers

my desktop

2007-10-21T22:18:00.000+02:00

Leah tagged me on capturing & sharing my desktop.
It's a no comment desktop to form your own impressions on it.

Sunset in Siquijor, November 2004

homecoming queen

2007-09-22T22:50:00.000+02:00

Since summer of this year, I have been relishing the thought of going home to Manila on February, starting with alimasag, kare kare, lechon, taho & cocktails by the beach. After 7 years, I can now finally go a month ahead of my husband & because in those 7 years, I have only stayed a total of 3 weeks back home. The excitement intensified when I bought our plane tickets two weeks ago & that my summer mcjob was extended just until 2 weeks before I leave. Then a phonecall to home to announce the news kind of shattered a bit my cocktails by the beach panaroma: two months expenses. So I wondered, am I really stingy?

Let's start with our old tradition the pasalubongs. It is the custom of bringing gifts to family & close friends when one has been away. May it be a day to work, a weekend trip, or years of living in another country. Paslubong comes from the word "salubong" meaning "to meet" & "pa" meaning "for," making it a "meeting gift". We bring home pasalubongs to say that we thought about them while we were away. The younger me thought it was a bribe when my parents wouldn't bring me along when they go away for the day. Then it has become a souvenir from places. Now the tradition has become to share the bounty of what seems to be a better life.

The idea of pasalubong has evolved as more & more Filipinos reach more places around the world, and as life back in the Philippines become harder. For being away now is a necessity for many but whatever the reason may be, the tradition of giving gifts has turned into a stressful part of going home. But we still find time to get the perfect gift for everyone & we even have back up gifts for people we might meet. Afterall, we seem to have a better life, away from our families, than they do back home. But the pasalubongs has reached a new level. It's not anymore about souvenirs & tokens. But do they really understand how it us for us to go home? For us, plane tickets has to be planned & budgeted months ahead (note that we still don't have kids). Pasalubongs are better bought a little at a time during months before departure. Then there's the expenses during your stay.

Hearing stories from friends around on being a balikbayan, I'm glad that my family understands. They do forget sometimes but I also forget that life back home is not the same anymore. I asked my nieces & nephews what they wanted, one said she preferred a shopping spree in Makati & when I said that the budget for each was 1500php, they all laughed at me. Although 1500php is now nothing there, 25€ is not really nothing here. And I'm not being stingy nor selfish. It's just that it's easy to get carried away with the euros & I wouldn't want to go back to France with a bank statement on alert.

But to see them all again & the smile on their faces is priceless. The glorified pasalubongs are worth all those years of being away. To share the bounty of your life in another land is part of the reward of your hardwork to earn it. I was never so much of a pasalubong person nor did I expect it before but being away for so long made me understand the pleasure, and the stress, of this Pinoy tradition. Although I will be getting laughs due to their thinking that I'm kuripot, I can't wait to be home.

How do you go about this Pinoy tradition when you go home? Do pray tell.

vidar, abducted by aliens

2007-09-13T00:27:00.000+02:00

After 2 days & a night, Vidar came home monday night with a weak & injured body. There are no reasons for him to be out too long. He's castrated and by being castrated, he snobs female cats in season & wouldn't dare a fight, as i was told & he always *always* make his presence known even for a brief 3 minute eat & run. On monday afternoon, I already called the vet & I was ready to post lost cat posters the next day & ask the cleaning guy in the morning if he saw a dead black cat on the streets. I cried coming home to a still lost cat & without a sign when I went around again looking for him. Although he appeared looking lost & after a visit from the vet, vidar couldn't be abducted by aliens *although it's possible since he's injured without blood & open wounds* Sometimes cats just hide in a quiet spot for days after a big fight, wanting peace (thanks for the confirmation Apol!). What's really amazing is how we can overreact for our furry little buddies & how we're convinced that it will be a neat idea to have a "cat camera" to finally unveil the secret life of cats & probably see aliens in action too.

this is not a going away post

2007-09-06T23:06:00.000+02:00

Gratefulness, not family nor relatives, is what brought me back to Lourdes for the third time despite my last experience, an involuntary side trip to Bordeaux. It was mere willingness, a personal need to meditate & reflect my 35 years. The cause of the need is unknown but it was more powerful than the sloth in me & my hate of Bordeaux.

Even if it was already the last leg of summer vacation, Lourdes was crowded with people & I had a hard time finding my quiet spot. We arrived with 3 hours of sleep & I escorted Cathy right away to discover the spiritual aura that is in Lourdes, under a rain that is too weak for an umbrella but is too strong to make you wet. I have to admit that I was bitching about too much people, the drizzle & my cold, wet feet. I had to remind myself that I was there to burst with gratitude.

And gratitude is of being so blessed of a beautiful life enough to share something significant. A beautiful life that is made of a family that only after years you prove to be the only link that is you. A handful of friends so true for not only have you known each other for years, they stayed even with a twice a year e-mails, always picking up where you left off. A few new friends you can consider yourself lucky for in such a short time, it feels like you've known each other for years. And a husband who puts up & revolts to every version of me. The people (and a cat) in my life is the measure of my evolution. They have touched & changed me in ways they'll never know. All those 35 years. Old ones, new ones, forever people. And that's what only matters to me.

I couldn't find the best photos of us but it brings out my idea. So many people but no pictures. We don't even have one photo of us, Barb. Thanks for all the birthday thoughts & greetings, friends!

Metaphors of Life - Image 14 : Reverting to the Inner Guide

2007-09-01T23:05:00.000+02:00

how much a part of you

2007-08-27T22:39:00.000+02:00

A bit exhausted & fed up after months of tending to tourists, and adding to that a beastly mood swing, I assure is caused by the full moon, my husband wryly tells me one night that I have "become French," and continued saying, "I knew we shouldn't have lived in France!" Maybe it's because I was freaking out for more than an hour trying to find parking at 21H00 in this touristy town or because my colleague at work drives me nuts. But with the way he says it, he might actually mean it, with a smirk. And yes, I suddenly had to wonder what is being French & what is being Filipino, and what does it really mean? I didn't want to know.

Although I know it is important to understand French women & its relation to being a Filipina, I won't go into too much details & just focus on how these seemingly innocent words can make you once more wonder about change & life as we grow older. We all go through it. How many times have you wondered about how much your life have changed? The alterations & growth, the casual truths & distortion, the movements & displacements: change and change is a double edged sword - it can cut you or it can cut for you. Every decision we make incurs change & in every change, how much a part of you is really you?

While some are more subtle than others, we somehow get lost with the many changes we experience. Sometimes we even unconciously become a whole new different person we almost cannot recognize. Good change or bad change - how relative are our changes? As relative as our reaction to our current environment & when you've been transplanted, changes are a bit opaque. There are the cultural differences, the adjustments & our ability to adapt. Then you learn & there's the rest of you. How much a part of us have become our host country? How much Filipino can we be in a different environment?

Being in a different world is full of hard learnings for me but the rewards are great and somehow, no matter how you would like to conserve your own convictions, some will still slip away to your new world making you see things differently, but without compromising your beliefs. And with all the learnings, your old world will see that change in you - nag bago or others ka na (you've changed & you're not like us anymore). I didn't become French for trying to live in my host country & I'm not different just because I experienced something else than my old world. In learning comes growth & then comes change. I used to be so many things that now I am not & I am some of the things I never thought I'd be. These are the versions of myself that were all developed through experience from two different environments. A little less & a bit more of me.

This year has been so much of a lot of things. I never stop in amazement on how my life has changed. Looking forward to my new world brings me lots of hope. Looking back at the world I was & am comforts me. But growing up is a spiked accomplishment. But I know I want to be where I am now.

Mon mari, je serai toujours Philippine du coeur car tu me rappelles d'etre une.

a selfish kind of peace

2007-07-29T19:30:00.001+02:00

orange men doing thriller

2007-07-28T23:03:00.000+02:00

As usual, I am the last to know about something like this one I received on email this afternoon. This video was actually already viewed by millions of people & was on US entertainment shows.

As part of their recent program, the Cebu Provincial Detention & Rehabilation Center did a choreography to the tune of Michael Jackson's "Thriller," all of them, more than a thousand inmates, all in orange jumpsuits with a capital P on their backs.

Check out their video here of Thriller, on where you will see more links on their other renditions like the Queen's Radio Ga-ga, I will follow you of the movie Sister Act & the Algorithm March to name a few.

We Filipinos do love entertainment. Any form. It's in our bones.

beaching

2007-07-18T16:07:00.000+02:00

Beach towel. Thermos. Book. MP3. Sun screen lotion. Sarong. Sun screen for the face. Hat. My European banig. All check & into my handy beach basket. My beach elements.

Just a few meters away from home, I reach our little beach of pebbles & stones with a pathway just a few steps from the shore. I choose my spot on this scorching hot summer day. Finally, the kind of heat I expected. I am surrounded by French mothers in their late 40's & 50's that has a body of a young woman. I have to admit that they are sexier than the budding women in their early 20's. I look at my belly & gave out a heavy sigh.

Out on the sea, wind surfers float like butterflies in the blue that twinkles like a thousand diamonds. Only if there were more wind, those butterflies will glide. Just near the shore, a couple snorkels at a variety of sea stone sizes & colors, that are slippery & can deform your feet, especially your little toe, and some soft corals, if ever you can call them that or it exists in the Mediterranean Sea. I remembered how walking on the beach in the Philippines is such a treat. By the shore, there exists an ecosystem of sea slugs, sea ferns, crabs & tiny shell fish. It's a joy to know that there is a world so beautiful under the sea than just stones.

My camera just allowed me one snap shot of my view among the teen-agers, moms & dads, grand ma & grand fathers, kids & babies & a couple of kayaks. If only there were bars made of wood behind me serving cocktails & more sand & longer shores, it's almost like paradise. Heck, who am I kidding. The Philippine beaches are divine. And you get to have the beach for yourself since Filipinos don't like staying under the sun. But our barrio's beach will do for now. Although it's not the same fun, I get the same tan.

My view under the sun. Almost feels like home seeing Marseille as an island.

two lands, one home

2007-07-12T15:03:00.000+02:00

One bright idea day, I finally decided to process my French nationality after 6 years of France. I received my official declaration yesterday after a year & 15 days. Nothing theatrical, no officials from the French Tribunal nor an oath taking & photo op. Just me & the nice lady, in between us a glass window while we exchange valuable documents, instructing me on what to do next for my identity card. Voila, je suis française, ou plutôt devenu française par mariage (I am now french, or rather became french by marriage).

Not once did it cross my mind to be living somewhere else but my birthplace nor did I dream of spending my life with someone who comes from another land, fourteen thousand kilometers away from what I ever knew. I never imagined to have another nationality other than my own. But here I am, bounded by my choices, circumstances & opportunities, my life evolving in certain ways I didn't expect. My newly acquired nationality is significant because it is only after seven years that I feel more at home in my adoptive country.

First, Monsieur le President Sarcozy actually shoved me into doing it. He really make butts move, especially for the estranged. The 2003 Philippine Republic Act N° 9225 on retention & re-acquisition of citizenship is the icing but the cherry on top of the cake is that both countries recognize dual nationality. And that is le top for there are only a few countries* who do.

As required, it is all about integration. In paper, first I was asked bills that indicate "mr & mrs" to prove the authenticity of our marriage. Since 2003, Sarcozy attempts to minimize fraud marriages. Then I was asked to submit documents showing mine & my husband's professional activity in the past years. It will indicate your willingness & ability to obtain employment thus showing you speak the language with ease to find a job. I suppose it can somehow show that you are a taxpayer & won't be dependent of the governement's social welfare since France is very generous on that even to non-citizens. After, I was convoked by the Police Nationale for a 6 page question interview of my life as a married couple in France & to verify my oral & written French. Questions range from how we met to my educational background. From our weekend activities & associations I joined to knowing my neighbors. I was even asked to write a few words in French. To my relief, the police announced that I am well integrated. In the year of waiting, we didn't have phonecalls nor visits to my happiness.

But what does it really mean to be integrated? It is not only about speaking French or being a taxpayer & on being in harmony with your new environment. It is about the sensation of being home. In accepting the change & trying to live with it because like one travelled American* client told me, no matter how long you have lived in another country, you will always be an outsider. Like even after 20 years, I will always be la Philippine to those who know me & la Chinoise to the rest of France. I would always consider France as my second home & it will always be different from my true home. I may be French in paper & have proven integration but I will always be strange, like France will be to me. And to quote Kala* when I asked what is integration for her, "It is to recognize you are different but you still try to assimilate yourself into your host country's culture without losing yourself & without forgetting where you came from."

But the thing with being part of two nations is when I'm in France, I miss the Philippines & my old habits so bad. Then when I'm in the Philippines, I miss France in a way. Like I miss our apartment & my habits I consider still young. The irony of being in two places. But one thing is absolute - in France, like in the Philippines, there will always be something new to discover because everything changes as we grow old. People & things move. As we adjusted in our new home, we'll likewise adjust to the changes in our old home.

I have just one true home but the Philippines & France have a different sense of home to me now.
Only after 7 years.

*the website is not updated since the dual citizenship act of the Philippines have been passed in 2003
*my American client is originally from Texas, moved to New Mexico & have lived in Germany for 9 years as an Opera singer
*Kala & I processed our nationality at exactly the same time. She just received her nationality (at least by the French embassy in Qatar) a week after mine. Congratulations, frenchie sister!
*we'll then process our Filipino nationality very soon, of course!

have a break

2007-07-08T18:52:00.001+02:00

My summer mcjob* is to hand out & collect keys, reply to inquiries, provide tourist information, attend to complains & assure that all our 83 apartments are ready & perfect for each of our guests. Aside from all the perks metioned on being a receptionist in a residence-hotel, the best part is encountering an assortment of characters - all in holiday mode. A view of the residence - the children's playground by the pool.

The cool vacationers. In total holiday mode. Won't be affected by a slight hot water problem. Does not ask for anything nor complain unless really necessary. Detached from other vacationers, they're almost unnoticed. Vacation really means vacation: stress-free.

The cool but...vacationers. In almost total holiday mode but some things are just getting in the way like the gardener watering the plants in their apartment's balcony at before lunch. Comes to the reception a bit shy to complain but complains anyway. "There was a guy watering our plants this morning in our balcony & we were a bit *chuckles* uncomfortable but hey, it's no problem. Just telling you..."

The benevolent vacationer. Pleased & enjoying where they are & at the same time wishes everybody to have the same pleasure by indicating slight holiday imperfections. "We noticed that the window shutters are rubbing against the garden lamp. It's not really for us but for you & the other guests."

The Brady Bunch vacationer. Does not matter if they're 10 or 4, they can produce the same effect. They are too excited that they are bursting with fruit flavors. Can gather people to play swimming pool volleyball even if it's prohibited. A regular at the reception, flipping through tourist leaflets in search for action. A vacation means group activites.

The grumbler vacationer. In search for the perfect holiday but refuses to pay the price for it. There is always something to spoil it. The grumblers really grumble without shame. You always think, "What now?" when you see them coming to the reception.

The my money's worth-getter vacationer. Every cent is worth a perfect holiday. Every complain is tagged with, "I paid €€€s for this holiday!" They are normally grumblers too & they are the worse kind. They think that they can do anything like bringing food by the pool when it's well indicated that it's prohibited, and when told, they can make your head fly.

An assortment of people gathered within an area of 3.2 ha will always have one of each kind of vacationer. Apparently, most of these types are French. I suppose, there is something about being on holiday in homecourt. But for every grumbler, we have at least two cool vacationers, add in a few cuties for my colleague. And the season is just beginning, now the ability to distinguish but not to handle difficult ones just yet. What joy. I just send my colleague because she's a toughie.

Then I realized that we're cool vacationers & I'm my money's worth getter to my husband. I think we make a good package as clients.

*mcjob - low-paying, low-benefit job in the service sector. From the book Generation X of Coupland.

recognition

2007-06-24T19:35:00.000+02:00

smell like the sun

2007-06-15T23:19:00.000+02:00

My brother-in-law called last weekend to ask us about portable video games for his son's upcoming birthday. Since my nephew-in-law is turning 10, he gets to choose between a PSP (Playstion Portable) & a Nintendo DS. And since my nephew-in-law has a 6 year old brother, he also gets either a Nintendo DS or Nintendogs (for the dog lovers). We strongly advised Nintendo for Nintendo's platform is truly geared for the kids. I couldn't really remember what I used to get for my birthdays but it's sure nothing like the toys of today. Sunny smiles of the kids at Villa Escudero.

Like the evolution of our society, toys have advanced to the greatest imagination & creativity ever. Scientific researches resulting to absolutely educational gadgets, employing different skills necessary for learning. Some toys are so complex that even an adult is required to concentrate & understand first before playing & having fun. There are so many toys to choose from. From the cuddly stuffed toys, the colorful blocks, the singing books, the puzzles & lego type constructions (which I am so bad at) to video games. It sure is fun while learning.

But for my generation, I preferred to be on the street than playing with my classic & standard toys which solely required my own creativity. I remember my mom shouting behind me to be careful & to come home on time for lunch or dinner, and to be as clean as I can be. In my childhood, learning was more about the joys of picking up recreational materials in the park & playing fair with my friends. Learning was about getting dirty & having little bruises.

Street games are as educational as the toys of today & it builds character:
- taguan (hide & seek) taught us agility & the motion of time. Without them, we'll still be hiding while everybody has already gone home.
- patintero taught us teamwork, strategy & the art of bluffing.
- shato taught us focus & concentration, coordination & math, and determination to chant shato continuously for the whole loser's run.
- tumbang preso taught us speed, coordination & sportsmanship, especially to the "it."
- agawan base likewise taught us agility, teamwork, strategy & competitiveness.

Street games also build camaraderie & teaches us to be a good loser. It only requires trees (or lamp posts), rocks, sticks & cans to almost no materials at all. We get a lot of exercise & sun. My mom used to freak out & send the maid in a thorough hunt to find me but it taught me basic responsibility. Me & a friend went on a search for the perfect grass sled, found a dilapidated plywood & sled down a 10 meter slope down to a main road. We were saved from crashing a car but we didn't get away from the old woman sceaming at us for all the dust we brought to her house just in front. We had freedom.

We didn't have high-tech, state of the art toys. We didn't have 15 channels of cartoons & kid's shows but only Sesame Street, The Electric Company & the Saturday Fun Machine on channel 9. As classic & as standard our toys are, they encouraged imagination, creativity & inventiveness. Look how we all turned out. I loved smelling like the sun.

locating your accent

2007-06-10T11:34:00.000+02:00

After moving to Marseille from Paris, I clearly remember how I hoped not to pick up the accent of the Marseillaise. It's not that their accent is unlovely, I just prefer to speak my French with the standard accent, say like the newscasters on TV - clear & understandable. Well that is one of my burst bubbles because I will always have an accent, definitely not as refined as the news, and not southern but probably Pinoy. The R always gives me away.

It's amazing how our speaking accents can tell where we come from even between towns a couple of kilometers away. In the south of France, Marseille will already have a different accent from Montpellier (165km) & Montpellier will have a different accent from Toulouse (230km). A French can even locate the exact region of all the different accents of France. Like we Filipinos can tell between the north & the south.

Then in speaking english we can likewise tell one's nationality. In Europe, the French, Germans & the Italians, to name a few, have all very distinct accents when speaking in english. Unlike in Asia, there is just a subtle difference between the Vietnamese & Chinese, especially for an ear so unused to the sound of these languages. But it is the beauty of these accents that distinguish one person from another, from one place to the next.

While some accents are just more understandable than another, it usually takes us a couple of hours to get used to it. But I noticed between Asians there are some that are just incomprehensible that sometimes it's not a difference of nationality but individually. At times, accent & articulation are not the same. Some tongues are just harder than others. It's an effort for me to speak clearly in French, careful with some pronounciations when the same word can have two meanings.

Some say I speak French with a Manila accent, Hazel says I have a Paris accent when I say au revoir & a lot of French just says I have a tout mignon (an all cute) accent which simply means an accent they just cannot place. As much as I wanted to speak in a newscaster French, I think I'll stick with my special/tout mignon accent. Everytime I call the chatterie (cat daycare center, if you will), the cat lady will always recognize me right away through my accent. It is part of my identity.

The idea of this post on accents is after I had a call from a woman who spoke so fast in French with an accent I likewise cannot place. Probably she was like me a bit clueless on not having a newscaster French. She was German. Then Russell Peters came into mind. Watch him here talking about Asians & accents.