Coffee Convert

Yesterday, after coming home from a pre-New Year date with two graduate school girlfriends, I raided my closet and got rid of my "obsolete" clothes. This practice always ends up in a fashion show; thus, it took me two hours to put everything back in order because with me matching a long forgotten skirt with a new blouse or trying on a pair of faded slacks with several tops can sometimes get me too carried away. After the closet cleaning/catwalk, I proceeded to dust the shelves and arrange my books. I also swept the floor and the ceiling, scoured the shoe rack, and washed my shoes. All of which took me more than two hours to finish. While I was taking out the garbage, it hit me that I didn't feel in the least bit tired. In fact, I was eyeing the clothes that I needed to launder and I was contemplating on doing it after the general cleaning. I had no desire of stopping!

I wondered where I got the energy and thought of what I consumed the whole day - there's the coconut milk for breakfast, C2 iced tea for lunch, and gasp, coffee for merienda!

You see, I am not a coffee drinker. The only time I took coffee was when I was in college with some Korean students who insisted that I drink one. The strong coffee gave me such a headache that I vowed never to drink not even a drop since.

But yesterday's coffee didn't give me a headache. It even boosted my energy (which is what coffee is supposed to do). I've always had a negative impression on coffee because of its caffeine content. It makes one's body become addicted to it. I am of the belief that my body's mechanisms should all be au naturale and should never be dependent on coffee.

So with the fear that I'd be too tired the next day, I stopped working and even without a trace of exhaustion, I forced myself to sleep. But when I woke up this morning, I was surprised that my energy wasn't depleted by last night's hyperactivities. I was mentally alert which reminds me that coffee is a stimulant, too. The surge of energy that I experienced in drinking yesterday's coffee isn't even comparable to what I feel when I take multivitamins or power drinks.

So, does this make me a coffee convert?

Yes, because now I don't have such a resentment against coffee. Now I can say "Ok, let's go!" when someone invites to Coffee Break or Starbucks instead of my overused "I don't drink coffee." I can now call myself a social and occasional coffee drinker. I guess the headache I experienced in college was just all in the head?

And no, because I'll say it again - I don't want my body to be dependent on it. People who have heart problems are asked to cut their coffee intake. I don't have a heart problem, but the point is, if you want to stay healthy, avoid coffee. Despite Nescafe's massive advertising that coffee is an antioxidant and that it's good for you, so it's alright to daily drink five cups of it, I still don't buy it (literally and figuratively). Coffee is addictive, period.

So addictive that I couldn't help tasting and sniffing the creamer after

But coffee is not only for drinking. You can also put it on your skin. In Balitang K once, I saw Angel Aquino mixing oil and coffee together. She then rubbed the concoction on her elbows. There goes your natural exfoliant. I've also once tried coffee facial and body scrub. The whole coffee beauty treatments smell of sensual delights if not of coffee shop.

With this, I'd recommend coffee to coffee virgins both as a beauty treat and as an energy drink. It is after all, one of the earthly pleasures we mortals should experience. There's something about its smell. The aroma actually gives you a heady feeling making you remember the sweet damp smell of the earth and of coffee beans picked by such able hands, the color of their flesh not very different from the dark coffee you're drinking. And with the first sip of it, you return to the ancient past of pharaohs, knights, kings, monks, crusaders, emperors, and samurais - to the people who drank and enjoyed coffee like you did. And when it warmly settles on your tummy, you return to the sights and sounds of the present - the honking cars, smell of cigarettes (what's with the coffee and cigarette tandem?), and the mild chatter of your yuppie friends. So, you smile and take a sip again enjoying the present and relishing the past.

Yesterday's coffee experience was like that for me. It was surreally delicious! But like my meeting with the girlfriends, my coffee drinking would be very irregular (definitely not daily), but let's just say that I'll probably grab one if I plan to clean my room non-stop again.

Random guy behind us

Thank you, Jureca Failanga and Graziella Sigaya for the laughs and chat over peppermint, chocolate, and strawberry coffee. 

Jeepney Blues

For a number of reasons, I don't like riding jeepneys. I think you, too had your share of jeepney drivers from hell experience. Drivers you'd like to strangle because they wait for more than 30 minutes before they drive the jeepney, only to stop after 5 minutes just to pick up another passenger. And, why do they have to whistle like that? Not the I-can-carry-a-tune kind of whistling, but the hey-I've-parked-my-jeepney-just-for-you-kind of whistling. It's the one where they suck up their lips and produce a sound not different from mating rats. Then, there are drivers who are just plain rude. A colleague once asked a driver if he can park his jeepney somewhere in Gen. Luna. He answered, "Pwede man kung gusto mo magbayad duwa ka gatos." So, my colleague nastily shot back, "Gapamangkot ko gani husto, Nong nga-a wala pulos sabat mo?" I secretly applauded her for that. Of course, there are those who are war freaks, those who would put up a fight with passengers and traffic enforcers. If you're caught up in that situation best go down and hail another jeepney. Then, there's your classic smelly driver who never changes clothes, never takes a bath, and who's never been introduced to a deodorant. But the drivers aren't really the sole reason why I hate riding jeepneys - they're mildly irritating in comparison to their counterparts which are the jeepney passengers. 

WELCOME TO SARDINIA

Now, you've probably also had your share of being in a crowded jeepney. Sardines, we call it. And sometimes, the crowd smells like it, too. Now, let me separate each one from the crowd and say something about these hapless citizens. Each one is a representative of the general population that inhabit Sardinia with a brief description and reasons why I hate sitting with them.

1) RAPUNZEL

The Rapunzels of Sardinia usually have long hair, and they think they're princesses, too. When the jeepney's kilometric windows are open, they like to think that they're Rose at the helm of Titanic with Jack making them feel that it's the most romantic ride of their lives. Their hair then, turns into a giant octopus with tentacles that could reach the farthest jeepney passenger. And so, with the breezy billows, their long hair would almost always swim to their seatmate's orifices: the eyes and the mouth. Sometimes, these hairy tentacles would insert itself in the nose. The victim has no choice, but to lead them down their towers and snap them back to reality. A word is enough.

2) RUSSELL CROWE

The actor is well-known for his role as the schizophrenic John Nash in A Beautiful Mind. Russell Crowe of the Philippine jeepneys, are yes, crazy, and no, they don't have a beautiful mind. He is scary especially when he talks to himself, to his other self, and to his imaginary friends. Sometimes, he gets too violent. One word is never and will never be enough for Russel Crowe so, when that happens, get down from the jeepney pronto and hail a taxi cab. 

3) MEOW MEOW

Koreans in our local and colorful language are known as Kurings. Kurings in our dialect actually refer to cats. What are the sound of cats? Meow-meow. So the Meow Meows are your chinky-eyed tourists/students who sit in groups and won't stop yakking about kimchi and Gangnam style. Their loud conversations annoy me, period. 

4) ADAM and EVE

The Adams and Eves of the jeepney are those lovers who can't keep their hands to themselves. They publicly show to the world of jeepney passengers that they love each other. So goes the necking, kissing and oh dear, petting. But it's not all roses for your Adam and Eve. Just like these biblical characters, they have their share of toils and pains. Didn't God tell Adam, "I will make you enemies, you and the woman."? And enemies they become. Yes, these lovers fight. The fight ends with a tear-streaked girl almost always, getting down from the jeepney and with the boy trailing after her. Oh, sweet. 

5) PICKPOCKETS

Among the jeepney passengers, they are the most dangerous so, everyone should be wary of them. What do they look like? Oddly enough, they don't look like your typical thief with the drug addict look. They look just like you and me, except that they're in the jeepney for all the wrong reasons of stealing your wallet, your jewelry, and your soul. So be afraid. Be very afraid. 

I’m sure there are other citizens of Sardinia out there who ought to be represented, just like the smelly ones and the smokers. But most jeepney passengers know their hygiene already and people rarely smoke in the jeepney, so they don’t need to be mentioned.

The jeepney symbolizes the all-Filipino road experience - slow because I'm picking up passengers, so shut up, and fast because I'm the king of the road, bitch. The passengers in a crowded sardine fashion become the helpless victims, and so forge a brotherhood and sisterhood of passengers with a common enemy – the driver. I’m sure the jeepney drivers themselves have a list of passengers from hell, but for now, you’ll just have to content yourself by reading my version of jeepney passengers who make my daily commute annoying and scary as hell. 

Wet Christmas

Alone but not lonely. That's my motto every Christmas. Since I started working, I've spent Christmas all by myself. I could always go home and spend it with my sister and niece, but I like the joy and solitude of being alone every Christmas.

This year, however, I spent Christmas day at the Missionaries of St. Therese (my aunt is one of the sisters) after attending mass at St. Clement's. At around 4 PM, I decided to go home. I was waiting for the jeepney when it started raining really hard. I stood there for quite sometime getting wetter and wetter but still hoping that a taxi or a jeepney would stop by. They never did even if they didn't have passengers. The drivers probably didn't like the idea of taking in a very wet passenger. Since the convent was quite far from the highway I decided to take shelter in a hut by the roadside. The family took me in, but it's a good thing my aunt fetched me and brought me back to the convent.

Too wet to wear

The package of the gift I received got ripped because it got soaked by the rain

Too risky for me to go out and brave the rain

What happened next is that I stayed for two more hours before I went home. So, Christmas lunch and dinner were spent with the sisters. Rain is synonymous to blessings. With the company of the sisters and the soaked to the bone experience, need I say I more that it was a truly blessed Christmas?

Nomnom

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Scared

Writing -- this act has become such a tedious and frightening experience for me. By writing, I don't mean just the entries I write in my journal nor my posts in this blog. What I mean is serious writing. One that will help me rise up from my lowly status in the university through academic publications and researches. Another is one that will (crosses fingers) give me a literary career through short stories and features.

The problem is this fear of writing. I don't know when it started or how it possessed me. Every attempt at serious writing is thwarted by the thought that I'm no good at it, so why bother? It scares me that I will never get to publish anything if I'll continue to allow this fear to dominate my psyche. 

Sure, I got to be part of my college publication but those campus news stories never count when I fill up the part under "publications." Sometimes, in a frenzied writing mode, I'd start writing what I think are well-crafted paragraphs about topics worth reading, but I never get to finish any of them nor do I find the patience to edit them. My muse seems to make fun of me. If this will go on, I'd probably die without any publications. I'd be old and I'd lead a dull gray life while I wait for my muse to inspire me. I guess I'd say goodbye to that literary career. 

I try to make it a habit to write, but as I said, it's a tedious task. I can spend an hour in just coming up with a perfect title. I can sit the whole day in front of the computer just mulling over a one paragraph introduction. I don't write that often in my journal anymore and I think that's really lazy of me. 

This whole article really just sums up my desire to become a writer. But I don't really know where and how to start. I know that I have that potential in me. I have that fire, too, but it's perhaps dying now put out by my more realistic goals. 

I really hope I'll take my writing career seriously and do something about it. That's a New Year's resolution for 2013. Wish me luck!

In the Lounge

Today, while I was tinkering on my computer, you sat across me. You did small talk. I replied just like the way I always do; subtly and tonelessly.

You yawned. Obviously, you’re bored with me. You folded your arms and laid your head on it. Did you notice that I was watching you behind my glasses?

You closed your eyes and took a nap. I was conscious of you sleeping across me. I wanted to take off your eyeglasses and kiss those eyes. I wanted to caress your forehead and run my fingers through your hair. I wanted to fold my arms, too and sleep across you. Were you dreaming of someone? I wish I could be part of your dreams.

You opened your eyes and that broke the spell. I pretended to work on my computer. You gathered your things and politely asked to be excused (you’ll always be such a perfect gentleman for me). You went your way. I was left in that room.

            I and my computer. Now, I write this down for you.

            I’m not a boring girl, you see.

I’m just somebody who’s secretly loving you from a distance. 

Sleepless in Cambodia

Last October 25, I courageously flew to Vietnam without any plans of taking a touristy vacation. I just wanted to do some soul-searching by locking away myself in a hotel room and from time to time get lost around the streets of Saigon, but when I arrived in Than Son Nhat Airport at 1 AM of October 26, my confidence was drained by the thought that the taxi driver might rip me off of my money since I don't know the address of the hotel I wanted to stay in (I never booked a hotel). So I approached two women (mother and daughter tandem) and asked whether they'll take a taxi. They said they're travelling together with another lady who used to work in Cambodia and that they intend to go to Pnom Penh (Cambodia's capital). They invited me to go with them. Maybe it's the mother's kind face that prompted me to say, "Yes." I was also encouraged when I remember a colleague who told me that if there's one country that he would like to visit, it would be Cambodia because of its rich history. Also, I wanted a bit of thrill in my adventure so meeting these strangers I knew was something that will give me a taste of it. 

Ate Noemi, Ate Luz, and moi

My bus ticket

Sapaco bus liner

It was a six-hour drive from Saigon to Pnom Penh and I spent them all by sleeping and chatting with Ate Noemi. 

We stopped at the immigration to have our passports stamped

The immigration office

I don't know what this tower is for

We stopped over for lunch and I had this sumptuous meal

When we arrived in Pnom Penh, Ate Noemi arranged a tuk tuk (their mode of transportation) that will tour us around the city. We're lucky to have a tuk tuk driver who can speak fluent English.

Before saying our goodbyes and thank you's to Ate Noemi

No smiling and laughing allowed here

Clothes of the dead victims of Pol Pot

This school became a torture room

One of the victims and survivors of Khmer Rouge

This was our first stop, Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and to be honest it made me depressed

Their King died so we couldn't get near the palace

I forgot the name of this tower

A monk being interviewed

Another unknown landmark

Barbequed fruits

Museum (Ugh, I'm so forgetful)

A souvenir photo outside the museum

This kid selling some souvenirs is so smart

The famous lok lak on top right

Savin Nouch, our tuk tuk driver

Pnom Penh, The Charming City

To be honest, I wasn't charmed by the city because the thought of all the victims of Pol Pot's atrocities made me really sad. In fact, that night in the hotel room, I couldn't sleep at all. I felt that the dead's spirits are still roaming around the museum making the visitors imagine the tortures that they had to go through. I think what made my travel to Pnom Penh memorable is the fact that we have the best tuk tuk driver in town. Please visit this site if you're interested to go to Cambodia in the future: http://besttuktuk.blogspot.com/ 

Savin has been such a good tourist guide.

Saigon Calls

It's probably love at first sight. With its red bricked buildings, herd of scooters, and pho restaurants, Saigon or Ho Chi Minh City (Vietnam's capital) is a fusion of a rich historical past and of a growing modern commercialization.

Jung was my travelmate

Let's play I Spy!

I spy a grammatical error!

I spy a hanging underwear!

I spy pots and pans!

I spied this lady vendor receiving money from a customer, then later stuffed this bun with meat, lettuce, cucumber, etc with her bare hands. She did all these without even washing her hands! Hygiene is not a top priority here. 

What makes this city awesome for me is the fact that it's less polluted than Manila or Iloilo. The motorbikes help the people get anywhere they want and there's less traffic. I find it ridiculous to buy a car here. Be careful when you cross the streets, though. These drivers will never stop for you. 

Watch out when they drive in herds

The cost of living here is not that high. $1 is equivalent to 20,600 VND. You can buy a sumptuous pho (noodles) at 36,000 VND.

chicken pho and soymilk at 46,000 VND roughly around P80.00

An array of choices for you, but tissue and fork are not 'uso' here.

I was a millionaire in Vietnam. My $300 amounted to 6,197,000 VND.

There are many places to visit. You can have a city tour for $14.

Inside Reunification Palace

Thien Hau Pagoda or Chinatown? I can't remember anymore

An artist at work in the lacquerware shop

War Remnant Museum (Let Peace Prevail on Earth)

The General Post Office

The City Hall (is it? I'm not sure anymore)

Ho Chi Minh's statue

I will definitely go back there. Benh Tanh market, watch out for me! Every street name seems to have a Van, even our taxi driver is named Van! With its number of signboards with the word 'Van' on it, I felt like Saigon has been calling me all this time. I'm glad I responded to its call.