a relative world

Showing posts with label culture blending. Show all posts

Same time last year today, I did a last round of our now empty house, already reminiscent of what it once was. We dragged what was left of our clothes in four luggages in various sizes, then a final glance of our house enveloped by blue skies and the view of the distant Mediterranean Sea. Got on a plane and woke up on the other side of the world the next day. Time had passed so quickly.

Arriving Singapore in time for the Chinese New Year, we celebrated four New Years in the last 12 months. Seeing our apartment lobby with a joyful ornate of diverse decorations for Hari Raya, Deepavali and Christmas throughout the year is amazing. And here we are, in that cycle celebrating this weekend the Chinese New year again, ready to kick out our monkey sitting by our kitchen with a chicken.

Change had a gracious welcome after my year 2015 wreaked so much stress. It even seemed necessary. Although I have confirmed that the city life is still not my bowl of rice, the year had pleasantly gone by. "But you're from Manila, aren't you?" they asked. Yes, but I'm from that part of Manila in the south, the outskirts which the ones in the center calls the "province". Cocooned in a quiet village with security guards, spending all our weekends around this neighborhood without a worry of speeding cars, except for those chasing dogs. Then there's probably just the age. Having less and less patience for the city's perpetual crowd. That constant city noise. That regular bright night sky void of twinkling stars.

The perks of being in Singapore is that you can find anything. That is if you know where to get them. Everything I needed before can already be found in one supermarket. We did have a ball locating a simple screwdriver a week after we arrived. A bout of food cravings? A world of cuisines here! Almost all of my essential French products are delivered to my doorstep. I had to drive a minimum 10mins to get it before. Ah, the city where everywhere can be reached by foot. Well, almost. We tend to get rotten spoiled after a year living here. Frustrated when the MRT arrives a minute late. A little build up of cars is considered traffic. And how we live in the west and the east seems so far when it's only about 23 km from end to end.

The best part of living here is its cosmopolitan essence. It's so international that the world seems smaller. Meeting people from around the world is a wonderful experience. I have never met so many nationalities in one single place. There is so much more than casually knowing them. Having that kind of friendship here is not that apparent. I guess like any good ones take years to cultivate, but most of them are also just passing by. Two, three or a five year work contract. And yet, it seemed that I am still learning. An understanding of differences in culture and beyond as a unique individual. To be broader, not just open in mind. It is always said that traveling is an enriching experience. I can say that even without that awe of being in a new place, meeting people from different parts of the world is as enlightening. Plus, I get to see Singapore by foot with them. And it is an amazing city. There is as much parks and forests as much as buildings. They even have a museum, The Singapore City Gallery, presenting its urban planning and development. While it does reclaim land around this island, I was told that they wanted a breathable city, preserving the forests and as much space for greens. And that is exactly what it is, a clean and green city.

I do miss France. Having a car. Road trips. Baguettes - good ones. My cat. Especially my cat. A year has gone by. It definitely was not an empty year. Xin Nian Kuai le - Happy Rooster Year!

My everyday ride, it can be exciting

A seemingly banal question that I asked and been asked a hundred times since I arrived Singapore - where are you from? And the reply is not as simple as it used to be. A country where three major ethnicities live in harmony and more than a third of its population are Permanent Residents and Non-Residents, Singapore is one of the largest community of foreigners in the world.

More and more people are living in countries which are not their own. Decades ago like in the time of our grand parents, they are firmly planted on the soil where they were born. Today, we can consider ourselves lucky to be relocated or be uprooted to taste a different world than our birthplace. The question "Where are you from?" to this day is more a connotation of where you were born, or grew up than your origin. And yet, we are expected to say we are from the appropriate race and continent. If an Asian was born and raised outside of Asia, we tend to insist on this question with, "But where are you from, originally?" The simplest reply would be something like, "Born in Malaysia, raised in Australia and live in Singapore".

I was born and raised in Manila, and a third of my later life in France. I always say I am from the Philippines but live in France when asked. After the redundancy, I simply say the Philippines. This is where this simple question becomes even more fascinating. Where you come from is a spark of interest. Some people have engaged in a pleasant conversation, while others would remain to the clichés. I was once asked how it feels like to see so many Filipinos working as domestic helpers. Another time, the man handling the office empty of people welcomed me with a curt smile, made me wait for a good 20 mins, and on handing my papers, he smiled and talked to me about France and Europe for almost an hour upon seeing that I come from France.

Meeting so many people from different parts of the world is so enriching. An epiphany to the world that is becoming more divided. I have to admit that I can't help associating where the people I meet comes from with who they are. A despairing human nature that inhibits us to give people a chance. It denotes otherness that in consequence, we seem to feel more connected to the ones with the same color, or race, even if a lot of them have never step foot on their countries of origin.

Where you are from, in reality, is irrelevant today. Maybe it is more of that place where you feel best connected to. That place that have shaped who you are. Perhaps the best way to ask this question is rather with, "Where is home?" The response might be a surprise on how you will see people differently.

Driving in the Philippines can teach us several virtues and it brings out a side of you that you never knew existed. All the patience, courage & understanding are a daily challenge in the asphyxiated streets of Manila. "Ganyan talaga, kaya tanggapin nalang (it's like that, so we can just accept it)," everybody tells me. While it's true that I probably lost the habit of driving in Manila, you definitely get used to an organized road rules, discipline, and mostly respect.

I have always loved the vibrancy and contrast of the Philippines, bursting with so much verve in its lifestyle and progress. How we still use the crappy international airport, and be in awe with surprise at our 5 star luxury hotels, the cosmopolitan huge malls, bars and restaurants. And yes, how the cars are getting bigger, and with mostly so little roads to drive on. Progress & change are inevitable, and you come home to a place you hardly recognize. The only familiar thing that reminds me of the recent past is the worsening frustration of getting from one place to another in this city. May it be in a private or public mode of transportation.

While France is not at all free of traffic congestion, impatience is just due to the long wait. Traffic can be bearable if not for undisciplined & rude drivers on the road. Cutting cars is a skill only learned here. The forming of non-existent lanes & the counter flowing. The kings of the road with their roof lights, sirens & warning signals. The mess of already having buses & jeepneys with no fear, adding taxis, tricycles, motorcycles, bicycles & people jaywalking. I encountered some Filipinos who actually prefer not to drive in another country for fear of not actually knowing the rules. This says a lot to the continuing dilemma.

It will take probably centuries to resolve this eternal problem, especially when the country's road habits have been deeply embedded for generations. The roads do not seem to be ready for the city's continuing development. Laws and rules are not strictly enforced, if ever there are actual ones. It is truly a miracle the city have preserved its sanity. I do not have the slightest hint to even try to contribute to making motorists happy & hopeful, but my cousin did have an idea that may sound encouraging with further research.

Zoning. Scratching the surface, Clark, Pampanga & Subic are said to have strictly enforced traffic rules & regulations. Although it was enforced the American way, Filipinos naturally follow & abide by these rules when driving on these zones. A city like Manila will be a bit ambitious to make changes. One district at a time can initiate a transition. Implementing this is a bold move with a gallant budget to make driving safer, where safety is one major purpose of having rules & regulations on the road. One district at a time will form good habits, and habits can be transformed. I know mine did after driving for 9 years in France. One district at a time to instil discipline & respect among motorists, as well as pedestrians. This might not totally ease the traffic volume, like any developing cities, but it will help the flow & will surely make it less stressful among enraged drivers.

The saying "when you can drive in the jungle streets of Manila, you can drive anywhere," is not entirely true. Acquiring my French driver's permit with a written & driving exam have actually kept me alive. With my Filipino driving habit, I could easily have had multiple collisions on the road. And I'm glad I learned the rules & followed them. Not because I was afraid of getting a ticket, but more for everybody's security & safety.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

As the churchbells reminded the practicing Catholics yesterday of the Sunday morning mass, I hurried putting life on my sluggish face that only had 6 hours of sleep. I couldn't even remember the last time I went to mass but yesterday was Palm Sunday & I thought it's a good start to redemonstrate my faith. I know my mother would be overjoyed to know that I did. Then I am reminded again of my non-participation from my once religious practice just after I moved to France. Photo of my Palaspas in France - an olive tree branch. Thanks so much Cathy!

No, I was not a nun but a devout Catholic - like anyone in the Philippines. Sunday masses, wednesdays & fridays included, yearly confessions, regular communions, prayer rooms, novenas & religiously observing the Holy Week. But like a lot of us, my devoutness has its age & phase. My daily prayers at church before & after playing at the park & middle seats inside church in between my parents have become a short prayer before dozing off in bed at nights & going to church by staying beside a fishball stand, eating while chatting with friends, close enough to hear the priest's homily. The personal sacrifices & denial during Holy Week have become a holiday at the beach. But as we move on in life, we create a special relationship with our faith. An age & phase of spirituality.

And spirituality is essential in a culture where religion or even beliefs are so personal & delicate. Where everybody can be of different faith. Where religion is more uncommon than we think after being born into one that is unified. It was more difficult for this sporadic practicer of faith, who still experiences a flicker of guilt missing a Sunday mass, especially when back home there are 10 masses on sundays & twice for the rest of the week. On how stubborn I can get with the French way of religious habits which are not so different from what I am used to. Where the religious community is like an open secret society you have to know. Where there is always an excuse not to go to mass because there is only one held every sunday morning. "The ambiance is just not the same," I would always say because spirituality around here is likewise an individual experience. Where it's a parent's choice to give their children an opinion & choice on their beliefs at 6 years old (Le Catéchisme).

Being now more spiritual than religious, I couldn't say that my environment didn't have a bearing on it. But yesterday at mass, as doubly focused as I should be to listen & understand it in French & most of the time distracted to tickle Daniel's ear with my palaspas, I ended up silently trying to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks when I decided to participate in the communion, arms crossed on my chest signifying that I come not to take one but just to be blessed. We have a special connection with our faith. A faith of knowing that there is something bigger out there.

Miss the Visita Iglesias with you, Manks.
*#@# you all on holiday at the beach during the Holy Week, the hottest time back home!

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?

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.

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.

Time flies at an accelerating rate. It's christmas once more & another year to our lifetime. I can still remember moments from last year like it was just yesterday. I do wonder if it is because we're now older & we unconciously know that we are at the second half of our lifetime - it is true that the first half brought us more mystery & surprises of things to come.

-My mom's Santa collection -

It was in mid-November when Paris switched their magical christmas lights on - Champs Elysses beaming with holiday madness. In our little barrio, christmas lights were turned on the first of December. You wouldn't even notice them - just another light on the lamp post. The French are just starting to buy their christmas pine trees & decorating their houses with a holiday spirit. The mall crowd have doubled since the turn of the month. I wondered again why my gift shopping was too easy this year.

In the malls, although there are no christmas songs to set the ambiance even further, a stage is set up with your every christmas imagination while Santa waits for children's wishes & photographs. The shops have those little baskets filled with free papillon chocolate candies & super promos. Extra tables line the entrance of shops to accomodate the gift wrapping demand. It is literally a holiday rush that allows us to get into the spirit about 3 weeks before christmas.

My first christmas in France was not that difficult. I was discovering a lot of new things &

to experience the holidays in a different setting excited me. The christmas eve dinner overwhelmed me to no end - France truly exhibits the significance of conviviality in dining & intimacy. Dinner starts at past 8 with the best wines, recipes & cheese. Coffee, hot tea or even digestive liquor are served at past 1am. Gifts are distributed, opened & appreciated. Then you're half digesting in bed at 3 in the morning wondering how you're going to lose those extra pounds when you're about 3 months into the height of winter. But it's just so tempting to have another sliver of foie gras or that homemade dessert. It does only come especially during the holidays. New years are normally spent with friends, champagne & parties. Fireworks are prohibited. Who wants to freeze out in the cold anyway?

- My mother-in-law's homemade Foie Gras, served together with white wine & bread is considered one of the world's greatest delicacies along with truffles & caviar -

The thing is there is nothing like the Filipino christmas. Sure it is the height of total consumerism but putting that aside, there is a certain sensation I couldn't grasp amidst the white christmas of France. After five christmases, I've never put up a tree. Just those simple ornaments for a tinge of christmas decors & it didn't bother me so much. We spent the holidays at our own home only once because I had to work but we normally celebrate it in Belfort with the whole family. Besides, I don't have my mother's knack for house decorations.

As early as September, radios already tease the Filipinos with a little holiday cheer. The malls start setting the christmas spirit & there is literally a change in the air. Sure there are also people who take the opportunity to score brownie points for an early christmas gift or to accumulate them at the end of the year. The Philippines is known to celeberate the holiday season the longest. It is certainly not a christmas rush but rather an ambiance - a spirit I had to understand by being away from this environment I grew up with.

-My mom's christmas tree -

The Simbang Gabi (early morning mass) where we buy puto bumbong for breakfast with the family or breakast at Goodah's with friends. The kris kringle at work & with friends with an imposed gift budget. The many christmas parties to spread the joy. The Filipinos truly exhibit the significance of conviviality in camaraderie.

Our christmas & new year's eve dinner's highlight are the Majestic Ham, sotanghon & my dad's famous 12 grapes - 1 grape for good luck each month. Voices of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby fill our house with christmas cheer. The neighbors you meet at church after the midnight mass. The giving & opening of gifts are always moving because we always choose the gifts we give with significant meanings. And the display of fireworks on new year's eve - more noise the better to push away the incoming bad luck. The holiday season in the Philippines is truly cheerful & animated through the abundance of faith, belief & spirituality.

I will probably get a tree for next christmas. I already bought a compilation of christmas songs. Afterall, the spirit starts at home & maybe, just maybe, I am able to spread the joy.

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