Archive for 2006

Remembering the sounds of Christmas of quite a long time ago.

1. "Merry Christmas, Ma'am, Sir," combined with a special holiday smile, in all places of business & consumption from the taxi to department stores & restaurants, with or without the expectation of a holiday tip, contribute to the holiday ambiance.

2. "Pasko na, Sinta Ko" by Gary Valenciano is playing on the jeepney on your way to work & you don't mind hearing it every year. It's timeless.

3. The tinkling sound of Christmas tunes that goes with the twinkling of colorful Christmas light decorations that you may find in your exterior house decorations, small places of business & even in Aling Tinay's sari-sari store.

4. Television & radio holiday commercials geared to remind us of the holiday spirit may it be by consuming or religious in nature, bring us all together in one spirit of Christmas.

5. The rattling of folded paper in a pencil holder when your officemate or barkada approaches you to pick a name for the monito-monita, an imposed manner to spread the joy.

6. "We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you a Merry Christmas," together with the jingling of a makeshift tambourine of kiddie carollers made of tin cans & coins who through time complains when you give them 5 pesos for their 2 questionable songs.

7. The clinking toast of beer bottles among friends to all the years of alaskahans, hangovers & everything in between. Even though you never miss a weekend inuman with them, the holidays will always be different.8. The chime of churchbells at 15 to 4am for the Simbang Gabi which also means it's bibingka & puto bumbong, all warm wrapped in banana leaves for breakfast. One of the many Filipino food I am proud of.

9. Your mom's voice telling you to stop watching the Christmas cartoon special on TV & start getting ready for church or telling you to stop eating the Noche Buena food. Whether she's angry or not, her reminders to do this & that will always be a part of the Chrismas Eve preparations.

10. The laughters & the kulitans over your dad's Christmas songs still on vynil records while you eat your family's humble Noche Buena midnight meal. The noise of all these voices at the same time, the sweet chaos of family banter & mockery, will always be your best memory of Christmas.

11. The tearing & crumpling of gift wrappers, the oohs & the ahhhs & even the "what the..." chorus of responses over our Christmas gifts by the tree, will always be one of the most heartwarming family moments.

12. The sound of silence after the midnight Christmas mass, Noche Buena meal, the gift-giving & when everybody has gone to sleep, that sound of bursting happiness & flowing gratitude.

Everybody already had those kind of days. You know that kind when nothing seems to be going right - a series of bad luck that sometimes lasts for a stretch of time & you just sit & wait for the shit to stop falling on your head. In our case, we have a succession of unfortunate car events. Thank goodness it's not anything colliding, just a couple of headscratchers & pickles.

The curse started a few months ago when french fry's car antenna was stolen. Nothing bad, just a hassle to lose radio signal. A few weeks ago, all four of his hub cabs were stolen. Nothing that bad, just that now the all black wheels are so ugly. Our neighbor had all his stolen too in which he concluded that it's hunting season for the all new Clio. Last week, our other car just decided to get stuck in the parking without any prior symptoms at all. In getting in, I accidentally leaned on the steering wheel & locked it but the problem was with the ignition key that won't turn at all. It was like I was using the wrong key & the mechanic told me is something really rare. The thing with cars today is that mechanics cannot tinker with it anymore like they used to - it's all electronic so there's no choice but to pass by the most expensive route to repairing it. We have to have the car towed to the garage, replace the ignition key & reprogram the new car keys & door locks for yes, hundreds of euros. It does not all end there. Two days after the ignition key incident, french fry's car radio got broken due to a centimeter open window under a big rain. This all happened within a month, give or take a week or two. Sometimes it really makes you wonder quand c'est que des merdes (when all shit happens).

Now, we just justify this temporary curse by believeing it could have been worse - which has a high probability of happening - bad luck does not care if you've had too much. I now learned to make a "shit basket," a piggy bank if you will, to ease the eventual pain of our pockets because sometimes it just pours.

With an A stuck on your back window & at times driving a car with a 92 license plates*, it's going to be hell on the road for new drivers, like me - for 3 years. The A, meaning apprentis or jeune conducteur (new driver), naturally pisses people on the road - as if driving is already not stressful enough. *the car's town of residence can be identified by the plate numbers in France & 92 is an outskirt of Paris, Levallois Perret - Paris & Marseille has their own history

My A has only been stuck on my car's butt for about 10 months now & I have thought of a great bumper sticker for my fellow A drivers: I only have 6 points to spare so fuck off. Driving licenses in France work by point system. Everytime you are caught with a road infraction, there is a corresponding number of points that is taken away (12 points for old drivers). So you can imagine how this sytem makes A drivers seem so uptight - we follow the road rules by the book - for 3 years, or we can lose our license with just a bat of an eye. Not all A drivers are young & new drivers but it is what it is.

It is now a known fact that driving is one of the major causes of stress & somehow your character is truly tested when you come across different drivers:

The Bully. These are the drivers that almost kisses your rear bumper while you are overtaking at the maximum speed limit. If the speed limit is 130 km/h, the bullies are driving at a minimum of 150 km/h before they came behind you so they bully you to step on it & that you go back to the lane you belong. The bullies are usually young or teenagers & at times with an A.

The Car Racers. These are the drivers that normally run below the maximum speed limit & when you try to overtake them, they accelerate to not allow you to, so you have to go over the speed limit to do so. The car racers can be anybody but theya re normally the seniors.

The Sunday Drivers. These drivers always drive at 20-30 km/h below the speed limit & without a care in the world. Inside towns where the speed limit is 50 km/h, they always cause road rage from the bullies. The sunday drivers are normally seniors - with a hat & pipe for men & kick ass (and scary) women. Could also be lovers on a stroll.

The Road Owners. Or at least these drivers think they do. They believe that the roads are made especially for them. No care in the world but you make the slightest remark they get psychotic on you & on everybody else thereafter. There is no use reasoning with the road owners. They could be anybody who assume that their affair on the road is more important than anybody else. They normally use the reserved parking for the handicap.

These kinds of drivers can contribute to road stress. In addition, there are the morning & after work rush, fewer lanes due to road constructions, random traffic jams, potholes, crazy drivers - and crazy drivers especially. And I thought I had enough practice driving in Manila. But you cannot be too defensive enough nor too careful enough on the road because other drivers are not. Then the big difference is that in Manila, cars go at a snail speed most of the time due to traffic. Here, since traffic is not as bad as back home, they get crazy at high speed. Now, that's scary.

The transit from one place to another in your car is so automatic that calmness cannot always be contained by the stressors of driving. We're so used to it that it has become a part of our daily lives & you wonder if it is normal. And that A at the back of my car is like a knife on my back.

It's end-November, an unusually warm autumn & my enviroment just began to put up Christmas props a week ago, which they will all put in full activity on December first. Colorful lights, Santas & reindeers in department stores & everybody seems to be unaffected except me.

What's new? It's 35 days to Christmas & the more years I spend it away from home, the more I realize that christmas back home will never be the same anywhere else. Christmas is more of an internal clock that alarms as early as mid-September - although it seems a bit exaggerated & then terrible to say that somehow, sometimes Christmas is just not in the heart. Sometimes, it just really depends where you are.

While driving out of my parking on a wonderful saturday morning, I realized two cars were already vying for my parking space - like two savaged vultures, one in front of me & one behind - when I haven't completely vacated it yet. Asking the crazy old man behind me to give me more space to maneuver my car, with a raging hand, he's gesturing me to go on & that there's a lot of space. I could have provoked him to move his ass, repark my car & decide not to go instead. But we only think of a great way to react after an hour or so.

Still in the same saturday morning, I arrive the supermarket just to pick-up the suit from the dry cleaning & of course I become the vulture. Packed parking lot waiting for people to go but no, people take extra time - it's saturday - extra time to leave that you look completement bête waiting for them. So I continued my hunt to find two old ladies, the younger one shrugging her shoulders while looking at me. She goes out of her parking & I saw she didn't use up all the space backing up & by unconscious cosmic karma, I become the crazy old man earlier & I didn't even bother to budge & it's not like she doesn't have ample space between us. Like any other senior here in France, an unfavorable act is reprimanded. And so I likewise shrugged, parked & was welcomed by Santa Clause & his reindeers by the supermarket's entrance.

On the last leg of my errand morning, since everybody does their grocery in big supermarkets on a saturday, I tried to avoid it & passed by a smaller supermarket just to get a few veggies. Still a little shaken up by how my wonderful saturday morning in end-November is going, it is such a relief to see lesser people until a woman shouted at the supermarket's crew about, of all things, the celery. The poor guy who was happily fixing the veggies on the rack will always have to bump into people like that. We all do. No exceptions. Because a lot of people just live in their own heads.

It's end-November, 35 days to Christmas & there's no evidence of Christmas spirit. It's just so difficult to spread the joy when it is just another public holiday & not an ambiance of celebration - that there's one holiday in a year where there's a reason to be nice. Christmas back home is a sensation, a feeling & not a rush - it's not a stress & not an obligation - it's just a spirit that makes us naturally spread the joy. Just once a year. But I guess, no special holiday nor spirit can interrupt our stress at work & the pressures of everyday living.

I'd really like to spread the joy. I really do. I already plan to get a fresh tree - a live one from the plant shop so I don't have to wait till a week before Christmas. I'd really like to spread the joy. I really do. I won't let vultures or some random outbursts ruin the holiday spirit that's building up in my heart. I'd really like to spread the joy. I really do. Even if how I feel about Christmas here haven't changed since last year. I really do. So forgive me to be so nostalgic in my past entries.

Anybody for a Christmas inuman to spread the joy with me?

In a very distant past, it is said that you are what you eat. Then came the time when you are what you read, followed by not long ago of you are what you watch. Now here in the electronic generation, is there such a thing as you are your blog?

Having similar thoughts on the subject over a year ago on a blog's appeal & the level of privacy, how much of our blog are we really part of? If weblogs are personal sites that uses dated log formats, or personal journals, how much of it reflects the author's character? Now that it has paved its way in the information highway, can we really know a person by merely his blog?

As weblogs exploded the internet, there are so many blog characters representing various subjects as an extention of one's personal thoughts in total freedom. It could be from the most significant to the most trivial issues but the sharing remains as personal. It has become a meeting point of either with common & adverse opinions. But as far as sharing goes, big or small, part or whole, truth or superficial, rooted or skin deep, a blog will never be free of first impressions & assumed ideas of the author's personality - even if he shares only a part of himself.

If blogs can be an extension of one's personality, could we now simply rely on the design & layout as clothing, the writing style as the educational background, the writing tone as the emotional balance and the choice of topic as a mirror of intelligence? Then blogging is not for the faint-hearted for there is no way of avoiding it. Anything you decide to share, everything you put in your blog is relative to different kinds of people.

A simple & modest blog design does not always mean the author is not skilled in coding. Writing is universal & there will be hundreds of ways to express one's thoughts & the tone only conveys a specific moment. Then the choice of topic will always depend on one's privacy. It is always the author's choice of what part of him he wishes to share. The thing is when you share a part of you, no matter how big or small, elaborate or discreet, someone will never go past their first impressions - curiosity dying with it - as if they already know.

In our time of reality shows & voyeurism, as in the blogsphere, it takes maturity to understand its concept - freedom & tolerance from a mix of everything different. I would still like to believe that there is more behind the blog in people, a coming together of the same interests & learning - that your blog cannot truly give you away even if you try to. It will be too easy. But we cannot help to judge & be judged by our blogs.

Then to blog or not to blog - is purely your choice.

isang gabi ako ay nagpapahinga, napansin ko ang bituin

at ako ay tilang nakatulog, di ko napansin ang aking narating
ako raw ay nasa ibang mundo, kulay rosas ang ginto
ng ika'y aking unang nakita, araw ko ay sumaya

Ilang mega taon na rin ang nakalipas noong dinadayo namin ng walang kamatayan ang Kalye Bar sa Palanca. Isang daang piso, dalawang red horse, habang sigaw na hiling kantahin ng banda ang Beep Beep o Balong Malalim ng Juan de la Cruz. Ilang isang daang piso at red horse, ilang kanta na inihatid kami sa ibang lugar, sa ibang mundo sa loob ng ilang oras. Minsan naman sa ilalim ng buko, naka-upo sa mesang sira, walang pansin na sigaw nating kanta Ang Himig Natin habang naghihintay sa dagat ng Nasugbu. Nakapikit at kahit nakadilat, ang mundo sa harap natin ay totoo. Payapa, kasama ang kaibigang tunay, ang kinabukasan ay mararating pa lamang sa ibang daigdig.

Ngayon pagkaraan muli ng panahon, ang walang tigil na tinig nanaman ni Pepe Smith at Mike Hanopol ang maririnig sa loob ng sasakyan ko - mga parehong tugtugin at salita sa ibang lugar at mundo, lumalakbay sa iba't-ibang panahon. Isang kinabukasan na ang naabot at isa nanaman bahagi ng kinabukasan ang hinaharap. Walang tigil na bukas. Baka nga minsan, may mga taong pumipilit humawak sa nakaraan dahil walang maabot ngayon ni bukas. Kung minsan, kasama tayo sa mga taong ganon.

Ganon lang talaga ang buhay, sagana sa paglakbay - sa gawa, sa panahon at sa isip. Ngunit sa ating paglalakbay, di maari na parating masaya. At sa paglakbay natin, parating may magbabago at minsan nakakadala ito ng lungkot.. Kung minsan ganado tayo sa lahat ng pangyayari sa buhay natin at kung minsan nawawalan tayo ng gana. Yan ang mga panahon na binabalik-balikan natin ang kahapon. Lahat tayo dumadaan sa mga araw na ganito. Di ito kaka-iba.

Ngunit nakakalungkot rin talaga na pagkatapos ng tatlong pu't pitong taon ng Juan de la Cruz ay pinapakinggan ko pa rin sila.

*Ang album Maskara ay pasalubong ni jeanette, pangatlo ng Juan de la Cruz, inilabas ito noong 1975. Wala pa akong 5 taon noon.*

While the weather didn't know what to do, I was moving from the south to the north & west and back. A second visit this year from home got me busy for the past few weeks & I have mixed feelings on recovering our apartment's regular stillness & ordinary routines. It's really easier to crave for solitude than having to go over in getting used to silence again. And tasting home again is such a sweet comfort - having it twice in a year is like a candy store window you know you cannot have. Below, me & Jeanette in Basilique Sacré Coeur Paris.

Going to Paris for a couple of days got me bummed out - the metros, the crowds, the capricious weather - but seeing my sister-in-law & her mom is the only delight of Paris - I get to make Jeanette kulit again just like the old days. Apparently, we had an exceptionally warm weather in Paris that made walking more unbearable. Following the usual route from Paris, we were welcomed by the rain & cold in Lourdes. On our way back to Marseille, we had to make an unexpected detour. After being consumed by Paris & the drenching rain of Lourdes, I was never this frantic in being home. Arriving Toulouse, my left shoe's sole tore open, the train arrived, we got in, changed my shoes - in the train heading to Bordeaux. We were 20 minutes too early for the right train & the most expensive mistake I made (after 6 years of taking the train), especially if you happen to get a controller who is a total asshole. I'm boycotting any train trips for now, or until I'm able to laugh at my impromptu visit to Bordeaux.

Then there's the reconnection to the past & how the versions of yourself resurfaced. The random reminders of how you changed & how you actually miss your former versions. The bridging to your one true home & how things will only be better if you're there to see it for yourself. On how my titas cry when they go, touched by the thought that I am so far away from family. The thing is after they've left, there was this impending hole - masked by their visit - that has been threatening me long before. What am I going to do after they leave? It's so exhausting to go over things again, justifying my neverending plans, or rather fears, and those nuits blanches that ties my stomach inside out. Those knots that remind me of my frustration when things don't go the way I hoped them to be. I am a prisoner of freedom now so uptight with normality just because I don't happen to have all the things I consider important in life. When you know exactly what you want but just couldn't have & you need to change plans. Sometimes we just receive little doses of life but potent enough to paralyze us for a moment.

My mom has always been a smart dresser. According to my titas, she would sometimes buy fabric to make into a dress instead of buying food. Being the youngest & the only girl, we used to wear a mother & daughter terno when I was younger. She would force the boyish rug rat I am into wearing jewelry & dresses when all I want is the same Tretorn rubber shoes as my brothers. You could say that I was a late bloomer & started being more girly when I went to college.

"You don't look like you came from France!" I remember my mom telling me when we went home in 2004. I purposely wore the exact same clothes when I left for France 4 years prior & it made me feel good. But the remark was quite puzzling. How does a balikbayan supposed to look?

Looking through the new photos of my friends way back in highschool & college in Friendster has always been fun & surprising. Some you can't recognize, others are amazingly transformed not only physically but also in life. In short, there was an apparent change. And I wondered about my own physical evolution - in what way is it apparent to them?

As much as a comment like, "Grabe, you never changed, ganon pa din looks mo since you left..." from a friend I didn't see for 4 years is not so significant as "You still look the same!" from a friend I didn't see for 20 years. Really makes you wonder if it's a good thing or not. And the idea that your sense of style & complexion normally follows when you change country is evident - more expressive in make-up & clothing & pale skin. My mom likewise told me that I looked better when I'm pale & I have always loved sunbathing & getting a golden color.

My style in clothes has always been discreet & classic. I have never been expressive in make-up nor in the way I dress. My aunts told me that I look younger without make-up & I just occasionally put some because I am too lazy to wash it off before going to bed. From branded clothes & shoes before I got married to total generic filled cabinet & shoe rack - my discreet black shirt doesn't need a brand & I am seriously thinking of putting more colors in my cabinet.

Change is evident. It is growth. We cannot look the same as 20 years ago. But I'll never know why it is always expected in a new place & after a long absence. Maganda siya ngayon. Does it really say something on where we are in life?

In changing wardrobe, will my mom tell me next year, "Wow, you really look like you came from France!"

When it came in late & after our almost a month long heatwave, the mistral breezed in & never left - summer is over. Although we didn't plan much of a getaway this year, we never pass up a chance to discover more of France's unbeaten tracks, void of pure tourists.

After a bit of Paris, the Cote d'Azur & the Pyrenees over the past years, the valleys of the Auvergne region (center-south) allured us for two reasons: 1) I wanted to see the great Viaduc de Millau & 2) Aurillac can only be reached by little roads (national & departmental) after Millau. The region is abundant of castles & typical little towns. It is the only region that has five official cheese. Again, France is truly one beautiful country with so much history.

The Viaduc de Millau, one of the world's megastructures & the highest bridge totalling to 336.4 meters high & 2.5 km long. Below, the cheese all over France in the Marché aux Fromages built in 1890.

Aurillac is a small town in the Cantal department of the region that goes back to the 9th century. The town is likewise known for it's Festival d'Eclat, theaters & street animations since 1986. It was my first time to explore this kind of festival & it was hard not to be hypnotized by the spirit of various arts, originality & expressions.

The living portrait, the semi-political Belge & my favorite, the groovy stickmen.

The trolls, the moving piano & the guy with a box, really funny!

There is so much to discover in this region that you can find car routes to visit one town to another. We had to pass the Route de Fromage (cheese trail) for lack of time but we took time to visit the little town built around a Benedictine Monastery in Conques, dating back to the 8th century. We also learned that the region is known for religious pilgrimages. It truly is one of France's greatest treasures & considered as a Grand Site.

The monastery surrounded by the town with its typical roof made of lauzes (think local slates made of rocks). The town only has one ATM macine, some shops don't have phones & it is still spared of commerce & extravagant tourist traps. It is well conserved in the middle of nowhere.

France, and the rest of Europe is a history & culture overdose. We have yet to take a peek in the east & north of France. Although we exploded our budget for this year's summer, it was all worth it & France has proven once again how they conserved a country that is definitely enthralling. And my appreciation of the beauty & France is growing everytime summer ends. If only I could replace all the pine trees by coconuts.

I am a crazy good samaritan

While I was busy blogging awhile ago, my neighbor infront knocked on our door. She was telling me that she left her other set of keys in the keyhole from the inside so she couldn't open it.

Me: Vous voulez telephoner quelq'un? (You want to call somebody?)

My neighbor: Tsk, sighs.

Me: Est-ce que vous avez laisser la porte de salle de bain ouverte? Comme ça on peut passer par la? (Did you leave your bathroom door open? So we can pass by the balcony.)

My neighbor: Eh, non. Tsk, sighs.

Me: Going to other side of the balcony. C'est dangereux par la et c'est loin de votre balcon. (It's dangerous here & it's far from your balcony.)

My neighbor: Tsk, sighs.

Me: Bon, d'accord. Est-ce que la porte de votre balcon est ouvert? (Fine, ok. Is your balcony door open?)

My neighbor: With a million dollar smile. Oui, c'est ouvert! (Yes, it's open!)

Me: Crazy in my head went. Je vais. (I go.) This is what I crossed over, pressed on the building wall, to help her open her door:

My neighbor: Mon Dieu, comment j'ai eu peur. Je vous embrasse. Merci beaucoup. (My God, how I was scared. I give you a kiss. Thank you so much.) Il faut pas dire a quelq'un quelque chose comme ça. Ca reste entre nous, hein? (We shouldn't tell anybody something like that. It's between you & me, huh?)

And instead of just sighing, she just couldn't tell me to do it. I smiled & when I closed our door, I was still shaking. Although we were just on the first floor, the idea of making a circus act still gave me cold feet. What the hell was I thinking?!

Summer is the busiest season in France where you will find yourself doing the same thing as everybody else - moving around. Not only that there are so many displaced people everywhere, a silent tension is also present mainly due to the heat & the crowd. Summer crammed within a two month period is part of the holiday craze. Italy-France (to Gap) border.

When home is a tourist spot. Carry le Rouet is a small, typical barrio by the sea in the south of France where the calanques are the only main attraction. Due to the heat wave, we have more local tourists this year & living here is a total nightmare. As our apartment is situated right in the tiny center town, everybody that goes in & out of Carry passes right in front of our windows. For two whole months (and a couple of weeks more), we witness our little barrio come to life from morning till midnight. Noisy teenagers, crazy drivers, honking cars, and I've already received a finger from a teenybopper. At 11pm, parking is still a problem even in our building's private parking filled with visitors of a friend of a friend of a friend. But the good thing about living here is that we get to be quiet at least 9 months in a year.

From France & beyond. Thanks to the EU, moving around Europe has never been as easy. The first time I crossed the border of France & Belgium, I was ecstatic. Coming from a country that shares no borders, the thought of having the option to visit at least 25 countries to date by merely an automobile ride was amazing. Road trips on different countries are already a sight in itself - France is one truly crazy country for speed limits & radars, not to mention the very pricey toll charge. I don't remember any tollbooths in Germany, Swtizerland works by "vignettes," valid for a year for 25€, Spain & Italy has reasonable road passage fee. And France border is also known as the most bustling border cross. Last weekend, while crossing France-Italy border via Ventimille, traffic was horrible in entering France. The only country I experienced border check aside from France is Switzerland via Geneva & Locarno. I suppose it says a lot on the relationship of what one country has to another & I wonder. The only one thing that makes me love the roads of France is the aire de repos (resting place some with picnic area, or restaurant, or gas station but always with public rest rooms) - there are 596 for every 30 kms or more in autoroutes (freeway). There's your toll charge.

Aire de repos

From the tropics to Europe. Europe is a vast variety of culture & differences from border to border. But there will be little things that will remind me of home. Now that it's summer, road trips remind me of family vacations - fresh fruit stands by the road, halo-halo, dirty ice cream, ripe mangoes & watermelons on the beach. Then there are getaways with friends. Ah, the magic getaways with friends. Last weekend, we were at a friend's surprise party in Switerland that became the familiar party I used to go to - se lacher (to let go) - except I couldn't just let go even if everybody was. Is it the ambiance? Is it the level of familiarity?

Open air candlelight dinner in the BRRR Swiss mountain

Well, one thing is for sure - never pass a chance to move around. It is the only moment where you truly know where you want to be. After 6 borders or so, France is beginning to grow on me but I still want to grow old in the Philippines.

Passion, stress, anxiousness were all what we felt throughout the finals of the Worldcup. After France's penalty kick at the 5th minute, Italy dominated the game with a corner kick goal at 19 minutes. We all felt tensed knowing that France is having a difficult time to play - Italy was playing their finals.

France finally dominated the match at the second half but still didn't manage a goal. But everything changed at overtime. Something made Zidane crazy & couldn't wait for another 10 minutes. A red card for butting Italian Materazzi in the chest was Zidane's final exit from his football career. With this, minutes before the penalty shoot-out, definitely destabilized the French team - Italy dominating the game physically & purposely grabbed France mentally. Trezeguet, the supposed to be secret weapon, missed his penalty kick that paved the way to Italy's victory.

Being in the finals proved that France still has what it takes to win - with the same team that won the Worldcup 98 - we'd have to wait for 2010 to see France's new generation of football players with a peek on the European Championship on 2008. This does not mean that I won't buy a France football jersey.

July 6, 2006 - France into the Finals

Against a very difficult team, the free kick was the greatest blessing. Portugal held the game more than France & the idea of the penalty kick at the end was alarming. Not only that France always goaled to win - avoiding the penalty shoot-out at the end - Portugal's goalie is good, blocking 3 penalty kicks that eliminated England.

Now into the finals against Italy, the two teams last played together in the 1998 World Cup, France winning the match by a 3:4 penalty shoot-out - and at UEFA Euro 2000 in Netherlands, France winning 2:1. We are all hoping to add another gold star on the team's jersey.

July, 2, 2006

While the whole world was probably cheering for Brazil,

France played one of their best match to date.

Good game, Zizou, good game.

Photos courtesy of FIFA World Cup at http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com/06/eng

While Spain was laughing at the team of France with so much confidence that maybe this time they will beat the oldies, les Bleus scored 3 beautiful goals. Spain's penalty kick goal is still a goal but it hardly really counts compared to Ribery's, Vieira's & Zizou's well constructed buts.

Now into the quarter finals, it's not the first time France has a chance to win against Brazil. It's not going to be easy but it's not impossible. France beat Brazil 3-0 back in the final of World Cup 98.

Experience, not age, showed Spain not to be too cocksure too fast. But will this experience of les Bleus be an advantage to win against one of the strongest team in football? It's going to be a great saturday night football for this amateur fan of Europe's favorite sport.

Interesting World Cup Stats between France & Brazil

France ------------------Brazil

7---------Played----------7

2-----------Won----------2

3----------Drawn---------3

2-----------Lost-----------2

-9----------Goals----------10

Matches Database

May 20, 2004-----France-----France VS Brazil-----0:0------FIFA Centennial Match

June 7, 2001------Korea------France VS Brazil---2:1 (1:1)---FIFA Confederatons Cup

July 12, 1998------France----Brazil VS France---0:3 (0:2)---FIFA World Cup France

June 3, 1997------France-----France VS Brazil----1:1 (0:1)--Friendly 1997

August 26, 1992---France----France VS Brazil----0:2 (0:1)---Friendly 1992

June 21, 1986--- Mexico-- Brazil VS France- (1:1)- 1986 FIFA World Cup Mexico

June 24, 1958----Sweden--Brazil VS France--5:2 (2:1)-1958 FIFA World Cup Sweden

Photo & stats from FIFA World Cup 2006 at http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com/06/en/

June 25, 2006

Football only started to be interesting for me when I met my frenchfry the year France won their first World Cup title in 1998. Even so, European tournaments were never appealing to me as the World Cup. I like the idea of solidarity of various countries across the globe. I even get teary-eyed to see people supporting their country.

France survived the first stage of qualification, disappointment against South Korea but redeemed itself against Togo. There's one more game before France qualifies into the quarter finals - a very important game against Spain. Matches now have become more interesting - whoever loses the match is automatically disqualified. And it's getting tougher & tougher for if France wins, it'll next be against Brazil. Gulps.

I still don't know much a lot of football but there seems to be always a shadow of a doubt whether France will win. It looked like a struggle to win against South Korea (1-1) & Togo, making 2 goals only at the second half - when with the level of France, they could goal at least 4 against these teams. France still have the same players when they won the World Cup in 1998. France, majority of best players now on their 30's, will be playing against the 20's. They are still a good team if only they stress less - aller les bleus!

It's going to be pizza & beer on tuesday night. Go France!

When one of my aunts lost a luggage in the plane & had to call the airline almost every hour, I was in a tug-o-war of cultural differences. It was a familiar picture of easily grumbling about almost everything - because in France, you are not special. All it took was a visit from my aunts to remind me how truly spoiled we are back home regardless of how inefficient some services may be & how things work even without a concrete set of rules.

If exercising your consumer's rights in the Philippines sometimes render a satisfying service, you might get different reactions in France - depending whether the company gives their employees a training in customer service, the mood of the person you're dealing with - especially the mood - and the time of business. But customer service almost does not exist in France. When it is likewise true that calling every hour is not really necessary to speed up the request, we wouldn't know if it did push the process faster. I understood my aunt's worry of not retrieving her luggage & the airline's logistics in locating & delivering lost luggage - but I also understood that there will be no lost luggage delivered right away as insisted. The airline must have lost a couple of bags already & I wanted to tell my aunt that for the airline, hers is no more special than the others.

In meeting my aunts in the hotel, the first thing I noticed was their huge luggage - without the one that got lost - and in my head, I was already imagining dragging them to places - from Paris, we still have Lourdes & Marseille by train. Knowing that France's hotels normally does not have porters, it didn't bother me until now. Not only that the reception was unwelcoming in the hotel we're staying in, we had to squeeze ourselves & the luggages in a tiny elevator & then finding a small room for three. The hotel already charges more than 100€ for 2 people. Hotels in France are just literally a place to sleep - I will never know the service in those luxurious ones but I bet a smile from the reception comes with a price. They are not even close to Philippine hotels in terms of rooms & services - you are so welcome & well taken cared of that you can just spend your day in the hotel.

I still clearly remember cursing under breaths when I always had to walk to get to places - to the metro station was even like a kilometer walk - so you can imagine my 60+ year old aunts walking around Paris. I did want to make it easier for them but not only that I don't really know Paris, there is no way around the hike from one place to another - even with a metro ride in between - and the heavy gray weather of Paris made it harder. Even when we reached home & I drove them to Marseille & Monaco, I explained that it is not allowed to just stop in the middle of the street, or say, in front of the place they want to go to like in the Philippines. Whatever you're complaining about the Philippine jeepneys & tricycles, I miss them. I miss having the option of hailing a pedicab in a remote area if I get tired of walking. They are a luxury.

They of course encountered some special random acts of kindness in France. It somehow still exists - the porter in the train station Paris Montparnasse who nicely carried all the luggages without the supposed extra charge - but was balanced by our calvary in the train station of Toulouse. The porters there didn't want to work & we had to drag our bags to two long flights of stairs under the curiousity of other travellers. The taxi driver in Lourdes who my aunts embarassed with compliments & the very good service in IBIS hotel. Sometimes, just sometimes, you will feel that France makes you feel special.

After awhile, you learn & get used to it while being constantly reminded that the Philippines is special. A lifestyle so unconsciously spoiled by a culture of customer service - we are so spoiled that it made us feel special - it is a culture. But not in France. My aunts did enjoy their stay & I do hope they will come back to visit hopefully with lesser luggage.

Winter is becoming very long, as long as the last time I updated my blog, and we are really fed up of the cold. Our region does bathe us with a lot of sunshine & grants us the bluest skies during winter but behind the sun & the blue sky, there is le mistral.

The locals in the south of France would tell you that one day you will hate the wind. And I did. Especially for the past few days when it was blowing at around 110km/h. Just imagine a signal #2 storm back home in the Philippines, only with no rain but a big bright sun. Only the mistral is a non-stop photo shoot that sometimes lasts for more than a week at the height of winter, a roaring mother earth knocking impatiently on your windows & doors.

Tramontane in the south-west of France, mistral in the Provençe & Côte d'Azur, is a cold & violent northwesterly wind along the south of France. An accumulation of air in the Alps, gushing the Rhône Valley at a speed of up to 160km/h until it reaches the Mediterranean Sea. More frequent during winter & spring, it occurs less often during summer. Mistral comes from the French Provençal word, maestral & in Latin, magister meaning "master."

The mistral is very significant in my region. Weather forecast can classify the mistral in 4 colors, red being "very violent." It is truly vicious especially during winter. It can make one irritable & often giving headaches when you stay out too long, having an impression that your head is "full of air." It is also believed that it can make people crazy since it can last for more than a week.

Marseille is particularly the mistral's main road to the sea. In our little barrio, situated right by the Blue Coast & 40km west of Marseille, you can visibly experience the power of the mistral. There is a place where the wind violently passes the most, like a principal canal, located just in the center town. You will see old people with bowed heads, bodies arched, walking hand in hand resisting the wind to get to their destination. I do exactly the same, struggling to get to the next lamp post & hold on for my dear body weight. After 4 years of living here, I have discovered new paths to avoid this evil canal. Yesterday, I had to brave the mistral to fix our cat's bridge since I didn't want to leave him out for the night. The big trash cans in the parking just beside our building flew right in the middle. I imagine them swirling around. The sea with a white surface. The mistral that makes me mumble curses in my 20 meter walk to the boulangerie.

Why the mistral occurs more in the winter is like sprinkling salt on a fresh wound. Chapped lips, red & wounded noses. It is why the south of France is abundant of sunshine & blue skies - the mistral is blowing away the rain clouds that comes from le vent de la mer, the sea breeze. During summer, we have occasional mistral winds that cools a too hot day. But cooling by swimming in the sea is out of the question. The mistral chills the sea water's temperature up to 15 degrees. I practically developed a notion of the wind's speed because of the mistral.

The mistral is part of knowing the south of France, a significant but silent role. Behind the sun, there is a violent wind. Behind the wind, there are grouchy Provençals.

Finally, after all the unexplained & unnecessary stress and my bothering of friends online, like they were stress relieving pills, I received my temporary driving permit just almost two weeks ago. The relief is explainable especially after 4 years of procrastination. After a little over two months of audiovisuals of France's road rules known as the "Code de la Route," I passed the written exam on the first attempt. I was glad that I painstakingly went everyday for 2 hours to the "autoecole" because it all paid off - I actually find the actual & official exam ridiculously easy compared to the driving school's - which was logical. Then a month & 20 hours of driving after my written exam, I likewise bagged the driving exam on the first try. My 10 years of driving experience in the Godforsaken streets of Manila must not be left unacknowledged. I've finally obtained the independence & freedom I once had - infinite like space. It's like finding a once lost leg or arm. My now renewed independence & freedom would be so much sweeter if I can get a car of my own as soon as possible - and I would need a kick in the ass for that. Then you wonder which is better, having a car before having the driving permit or the other way around? *Thanks again, Kala & Hazel - after you finally get your permit, you can instantly drive anywhere & anytime you'd like, Hazel. I have to wait for weekends!*

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More beautiful women gathered in the city of Marseille. After months of unfruitful planning to meet up, we finally pushed through at Hazel's for lunch. Two bottles of Clairette & a bunch of Chinese take-out to celebrate friendship & my gratitude to them for sharing my "papier rose" adventure. Time really is speed when you are surrounded with familiarity. In a strange environment, friends do make everything bearable & survivable. I hope that somehow, if our winds does not change for us, we can all grow together in our host country & truly create our little Pinoy corner. Then France for another 5 to 10 years would not look too bleak afterall.

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"I have something to tell you. Call me," was the message on my cellfone on a beautiful saturday afternoon. My brother never calls me & surely not with a lack of sensitivity by this short, vast & unexplicit group of words. Not to mention, a perplexing tone of voice that was hard to decipher although my brother have always spoken in a flat, monotonous kind of way. It instantly bothered me & my heartbeat began racing back to Manila. I tried to stay calm, picked up the phone & dialed his number. It kept on ringing but there was no answer. I tried a couple more times but to no avail. I was beginning to freak out. I can feel my ears getting all red & warm. "Ok, calm down & just keep on dialing the phone," was all my french fry could say. I then tried my sister-in-law's cellfone & still the same ringing & no answer. I finally gathered the courage to call my parents but still the ringing & no answer. The waiting, the dialing made my imagination run wild to a moment I was hoping not to arrive. I finally had my sister-in-law who quickly passed me to my brother. "So what's up?" trying to stop an outburst of tears, "It's about dad," my heart literally stopped beating, "remember he has a hearing problem for quite a long time now...." Interrupting him with an eruption of tears, almost into fainting, I couldn't contain an almost violent emotion. All he wanted to tell me was we, three siblings, will try to help my dad with his hearing problem, which apparently made me cry even more. Fortunately, everything is fine & I told them to leave a clear & complete message next time. I was terrified. It's a moment I don't want to experience but given the situation we have now, there will be no other choice. Phonecalls from home can be good news as well as bad news. I just realized it when my brother unconsciously freaked me out one saturday afternoon.

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After going around it & a chapter a day of the book The Beach, I finally found the big difference between the movie & the book. Not that I think the movie is better, it's just that I saw the movie first before reading the book so the interest is not much into reading especially when all you see in your head is Leo. Plus some of the characters are all completely wrong in the movie which on the other hand saved the book. So last weekend, I just couldn't put it down. I was more into it because it made me miss Asia. It made me miss those little Asian details in the book like the "tabo." I miss the simple yet profound way of life. I miss the warm sand on my feet. I miss home. It made me confirm that I could be just like one of the book's characters. That I really prefer, hands down, to live the rest of my life anywhere in Asia. The paradise beach on the book might not exist but the characters definitely do. And that made me feel good. *Kala, it was a good idea that you lent me the book. Thanks!*

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Yesterday, Kala reminded me that we are only in our 23rd day of the new year & that it felt like forever. Strange enough, I believe that I am going through this winter just fine. Weather is just great for an end January although the mornings do freeze my butt. Malou have always told me that when January comes, winter will be a breeze. And after my 4 winters, she's actually right. Time is so speed. I guess having 4 seasons give us the impression of flying time. The concrete changes that tell us time is ticking. Think spring. It is amazing how I look forward to a new season. It's like getting on a train & looking at each stop. A destination. The sensation of movement. Think spring.

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