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Euro-Backpacking: Making Sense of Athens.

I'm going through my album of pictures and I remember this one in Athens, Greece - Nikki and I wearing our version of a grecian dress. 

This is my white lady dress, I figured it would be good to wear with the Parthenon in the background.  

We pranced around the city both of us in this attire, thinking this to be an interpretation of their national costume.  There were some stares but given that this was the last leg of our adventure, we were pretty  much anesthetized by any form of embarassment or self-consciousness. We were in Greece after all, we have hundreds of century-old ruins behind us, the least we could do is wear the part!

The above picture is one of my favorites.  It's the Porch of Caryatids (part of the Erechtheion temple at Acropolis) - these are women statues carrying the roof with their heads. Those are fake ones actually - the government decided to preserve the real ones and placed them at the Athens museum to protect it from falling apart.  It's so  magnificent and grand. I was more impressed with this temple than the Parthenon, it merited a Princess Diana pose reminscent of the hilariously same pose I almost did with the Taj Mahal behind me.  

I remember how hot the weather was, and how we hiked to the top of Acropolis at a very scorching heat and came back down, passing by different ruins - quite amazed actually with the Temple of Hephaestus --, amazed to be so close and immersed in one of the oldest cities in the world, here with these ruins that gave birth to democracy, philosophy and some of the greatest literature of our time.  I remember us getting dis-oriented on the way down and almost getting lost, getting shouted in Greek for sitting at marble stones (we really didn't know the stones were part of the preserved ruins), and getting a shade darker after the hike. 

I remember our friend Marios (our customer in IT, love my job) who called his dad early in the morning for an emergency fix at his house and having to explain why he has two girls sleeping at his bachelor pad.  I remember us teaching these new found friends some Tagalog and forcing them to speak it and have some mini-movie about it.  

 

I remember our conversations in the car, how we teased Marios to marry Elena, his girlfriend, him telling us we're invited at his wedding and at that moment we believed we will still see each other again.  One of my favorite pictures below - it was sunset, we're waiting for one of Marios' friend and also our customer, Francisco to meet us, we're at the Athens Olympic Complex (birthplace of the Olympics!), dancing around the sexiest arches I've ever seen.  It was like walking under the curved shell of a turtle. 

Good times. I probably will post the Santorini pictures by...year 2014. 

Between The Comic and The Appalling

Ah, the memory of out of town trips with a best friend.  Taken last August 2011, on our way to a mystery spot, among a canopy of trees at Santa Cruz, California, Jaja driving, millions of stories shared in between. On a different note,  I would like to share a touching poem , If A Clown by Stephen Dunn. 

If a clown came out of the woods,
a standard-looking clown with oversized
polka-dot clothes, floppy shoes,
a red, bulbous nose, and you saw him
on the edge of your property,
there’d be nothing funny about that,
would there? A bear might be preferable,
especially if black and berry-driven.
And if this clown began waving his hands
with those big white gloves
that clowns wear, and you realized
he wanted your attention, had something
apparently urgent to tell you,
would you pivot and run from him,
or stay put, as my friend did, who seemed
to understand here was a clown
who didn’t know where he was,
a clown without a context?
What could be sadder, my friend thought,
than a clown in need of a context?
If then the clown said to you
that he was on his way to a kid’s
birthday party, his car had broken down,
and he needed a ride, would you give
him one? Or would the connection
between the comic and the appalling,
as it pertained to clowns, be suddenly so clear
that you’d be paralyzed by it?
And if you were the clown, and my friend
hesitated, as he did, would you make
a sad face, and with an enormous finger
wipe away an imaginary tear? How far
would you trust your art? I can tell you
it worked. Most of the guests had gone
when my friend and the clown drove up,
and the family was angry. But the clown
twisted a balloon into the shape of a bird
and gave it to the kid, who smiled,
let it rise to the ceiling. If you were the kid,
the birthday boy, what from then on
would be your relationship with disappointment?
With joy? Whom would you blame or extoll?

Geek Love.

Borders announced it will close its doors.  It saddens me.  If I have a choice between going to bars or parties and going to bookstores, hands down it's the latter. I rejoice whenever I hear about a new branch opening nearby and I immediately get attached to them. I memorize the aisles to know where to go next time to browse a book I hid in some corner - tagged: wishlist, I note the details on how they arrange books and how they highlight their "bestsellers". I spend hours randomly reading pages of books I will never buy and will buy. 

When I moved here in Atlanta, Borders is one of those bookstores I hang out.  I like their section of "Staff Picks" - and as I pick a book, I nod in agreement and look around, wondering which staff has the same taste as I do.  I never get to talk to any of their staff, and I regret it.  The best feeling is editing out the potential loot (always takes me minimum 30 minutes), paying the cashier and excitedly taking the purchase to my car,  dumping them with great exhilaration at the passenger seat.  

It's that whole experience that I do not feel I can recreate if I click one button to download an ebook.  

I will miss my Borders at Ponce de Leon Avenue.  I will miss all the Borders in the world, even if I have not gone to all of them. 

The Liberal and Cerebral kind of Lunacy.

I remember a restaurant I went to with friends here, it's called the Lunacy Black Market and I was completely charmed by the place, the food and most especially the chef.  

The place is simply bad-ass eclectic.

The food is served in small servings, perfect for me, who can never finish an american-sized plating. And it's very affordable and most importantly, juicy and delicious.  Eating a bite makes me wonder there must be a thousand flavors somewhere in there.  Is it too juvenile to say, "yummy"? It was really yummy! 

And why I love the chef the most.  He took the time to sit down and chat with us, asked us about the food (Yummy!) and where we come from, told us stories about that side of the city, about the US in general,  how the society has changed into one for oneself, more than for each other.  Seldom do you meet interesting, thinking people - the one that you could easily have a 5-minute conversation and still have a huge mental take-away. 

I appreciate the discussion actually. I shared with him how I like the servings in his restaurant, very small and served intimately.  We all devoured the food in one plate and I told him I like that in our culture, where we pick food from each other's plate, like it's meant to be shared.  In other culture, or even in high society Manila, you're not supposed to do that, it's bad manners to pick food from another's plate. 

He told me  we lost a sense of that, we're so ingrained with protocols, that we don't even know why it is so and we lose the human connection. And he punctuated it with do whatever you feel like doing because at its core human beings have no intention to hurt. 

He is my inspiration that red wine should not always go with red meat.  Drink whatever fits you. That florals can match  stripes and still look stunning.  Everything is in the eye of the beholder. 

It was 3-hour lunch, exactly what I always wanted my Sunday lunches to last and more. Chef Paul Luna is a famous Chef and he will run for mayor of Atlanta in 2013.  He's added in my list of inspiring people. 

I went there the second time with new people to introduce the restaurant to and he remembered me.  Chef Paul spontaneously made us a filling paella, not even on menu.  This time, he told us stories about the paintings hanging on the wall, who made it, how those were all given to him and we asked him about his vision of the city.

As I listened, I wish that I could vote.   

Strolling Toronto.

Toronto is beautiful, and I guess the more appropriate term is livable. I would recommend this place and Fukouka in Japan as best places to live, from all the places that I have traveled to.  If you find a decent job here, this is a good place to live, because you really need to afford living here.  It is picturesque, lovely in some angles, orderly in most, and most of all it has convenience (not so much as it is convenient - hello, they have fierce winter, but it has all the things you would need).

Can I out parenthesis that? It has all the things you need. Well, not my needs. I need my sun for a prolonged period of time. But the weather here is such, such a wonderful break from the 350 degree-preheated oven that is Manila.  This is my first out of the country trip this year (yes, on a streak here, at least once a year travel!) and my first time to travel for personal reasons (and not work) by myself. I usually have a travel buddy, or either that, I'm on my own going to a destination where I know people from Philippines.

Well, I know a someone here, and I'm actually crashing at his gorgeous skyscraper of a place, but that doesn't count, he's a local and he doesn't have an inch blood of Pinoy in him. It's nice to get to know a city from their eyes.  I slept on the couch of a stranger too, first day.  One of my best experiences of this trip. More so because I've gotten to know myself -- Kaya ko pala na walang tulog sa 15-hour plane ride tapos maglakad ng halos 3 kilometers roaming the city with a local at ni minsan di ako napagod or surprise, surprise, di inantok. What an adrenalin rush to arrive at a new destination, body clock be damned. 

Did I tell you Toronto has Universal Health Care? Probably their most important export - even if that export is just information to brag to the world - it always attracts a "wow", from anyone. You want to give birth? Free. You have cancer? Free treatment.

I'll tell more and link more once my body clock re-adjusts itself. It's punishing me right now - after two days of disregarding it.  The point of this whole thing is that Toronto is a beautiful city. I just want it be known, if that's not known yet.  And they have grossly ridiculously fast internet. It's the shit.

(According to Nikki, who sent me a note today, "Enjoy the 2nd most culture-less city in the world!" Haha! My quest to disprove it). 

Get Lost in 'Eat, Pray, Love'

In this weird weather, snuggle in your sofa with your blanket, 5 pillows and Eat, Pray, Love...

Kung may chick-flick, eto yung chick-book hahaha! :) I read this book a year ago and have been forcing it to my friends (and it seems I have not succeeded yet!).  I love the writings of Elizabeth Gilbert, she makes her life open, talking to you like how your friend would talk to you -sometimes no-holds barred, sometimes hesitant, sometimes raw, most of the time heartbreaking. At the start it was like listening to a friend betrayed - who begs for non-judgment and understanding at the same time grappling on confusion and depression and she sprinkles it with funny descriptions and bloopers. She recently divorced her husband, herself coming from another relationship with another man which left her emotionally drained. She decided to travel to Italy, India and Indonesia, in a journey she called a re-discovery of herself.

I really like the way she writes - it's funny without being condescending, mostly self-deprecating and at the same time she imparts life lessons without shoving it your face. You could see her progress in learning to not judge herself and you kind of root for her. She writes about mundane experiences (eating pasta, learning a new language, talking to strangers) and she squeezes it dry with insights and it's all good. I love her attempts to meditate, it was so human - I could totally relate - especially the difficulty in making your thoughts empty -- but how could you when your sitting there and your mind is all over the place.

My favorite piece (one of my favorites actually) ..

"So tonight I reach for my journal again. This is the first time I’ve done this since I came to Italy. What I write in my journal is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up, and I’m scared they will never leave. I say that I don’t want to take the drugs anymore, but I’m frightened I will have to. I am terrified that I will never really pull my life together. In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence, offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing on the page:

I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long. I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and Braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship—the lending of a hand from me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace—reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City. I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glance of myself in a security mirror’s reflection. In that moment, my brain did an odd thing—it fired off this split-second message: “Hey! You know her! That’s a friend of yours!” And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness in Rome, and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page.

Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend…

I fell asleep holding my notebook pressed against my chest, open to this most recent assurance. In the morning when I wake up, I can still smell a faint trace of depression’s lingering smoke, but he himself is nowhere to be seen. Somewhere during the night, he got up and left. And his buddy loneliness beat it, too."

Jackals of Freedom

I just finished reading Confessions of an Economic Hit Man which brought my total number of books read for the year, to a (pathetic) 5. I finished the book a week ago, latter half of it I finished while sitting at the dingy Land Transportation Office over at San Juan, waiting for my driver's license which I lost days back. The book was about the true-to-life confessions of an economist, working for an international firm that aims to help developing countries by convincing them great return of investments if they accept loans from World bank or some US-led financing institutions in order to build their economy and infrastructure.  By having third world countries indebted, United States will have a considerable amount of control on whatever that will benefit Uncle Sam -- natural resources, military cooperation, etc. Yes, political controversy - one of the things I'm always disinterested in.

The book reeks of conspiratorial tones and 80% of it is about John Perkins battling his conscience -- I guess it was not named "Confessions" for nothing. It was riveting but at the end of it, I felt the book was more to ease him of his guilt, more than a well-researched investigative type of tell-all book.  Oh I guess again, it was not named "Confessions" for nothing. Dette, I need a discussion group :).

For what it's worth, it wasn't John Perkins that get me, it was his story about this leader Omar Torrijos, Panama's revolutionary leader who fought for the sovereignty of his people and their rights, who claimed back the Panama Canal from the United States, who stood against United States meddling policies and yet insisted that by  disagreeing with United States policies, it does not mean having to turn our backs against them. It does not mean having to hate everything they do. It does not mean we should sow hate, but more still creating that opportunity on which we could work together.

And now this is the part I will go off-tangent and I'm happy I read this book if only for this realization : Maybe it's not creating factions in the hope of trampling the other side, that will unite us, it's not getting supporters to believe in our ideologies, it may  no longer be in the violent rallies we stage, or in protests vocalized in megaphones (because I no longer listen to those and sadly I think it's not just me). That by disagreeing with someone, it does not mean we wage war against them. With my lack of knowledge of how government and how politics work, I'm thinking now maybe diplomacy is just a part of it --  that will enable us to work together. It is sincerity to whatever cause you believe in. While browsing through information on the sites, I have no doubt in my mind that Omar was dedicated in building his country, in helping the poor and the middle class at the same time in opening its doors to refugees.  If he had wanted power, he could have easily succumbed to U.S.'s demands but he didn't, risking his life in the process (insert: consipiratorial undertones).

I don't really have much knowledge about how all this works. But I also feel that the reasons why I'm not involved it's because it did not tap me in a way that would inspire me to do anything. It's those kind of leaders like Omar or Barack that get me, not their politics, but on the way they lead, it's based on hope, on finding solutions that work on both sides, not on one other way alone. Omar may not have wanted to go an all-out war with America like how Russia and other countries did it, because he didn't think that would solve the problem of reform, of resolving differences. In the end, he gave the Panama Canal back to his people.  Barack started his campaign grass-roots style with nothing, writing a book that would inspire millions, yes, inspiring straight to the masses, and through-out the election, it was the people that mobilized his campaign and in the end, he won the presidential election.  Their solutions are not out of the ordinary yet exemplary, intelligent, creative and always based on positive reinforcement.

[By the way, in the the spirit of obamania I'm currently in, have you checked this out: Change.gov - Office of the President-Elect. This is really why I love Obama and not because this geek loves The Wire, but because he exploits technology to full use and does not underestimate the need for the people to know and understand the issues. Do you know that he did podcasts while he was still in the Senate?]. 

I appreciate the book, I do. It probably helped that I was sitting in a government office at that time and they're making me wait for 4 hours. Hmmph.

My Un-Wayward Philosophy

1. Engage taxi drivers in a conversation like you would engage a friend. Especially at night, it automatically removes that fear lurking within ("Kuya, balita ko may bagyo daw bukas...") and as long as you keep the topic friendly and cheerful, you never know you might have the most engaging or interesting conversation you will have in your life.  I did, so many times.
   
2. Don't be afraid to be laughed at.  It's the most freeing thing that could happen to you.
3. Overcome fears, for whatever motivations, just overcome them! (be it speaking in public, talking to your neighbor, failing, or raising your hand and asking questions during large gatherings, embarassing yourself). My friend Nikki reminded me to do this everyday.
4. Root for people but do it secretly to a point that they don't know you are rooting for them.
   
5. A healthy self-image is an indulgence. When you have it, you don't need massages, or an expensive haircut, or super-pricey beautiful clothes to make you feel good because you already feel good! And you are. We are!
   
6. Every week listen to new music. Listen to something new, you may like it or not, it doesn't really matter! New music expands your horizon. Revisit those you previously did not like and listen with new ears.
7. Share. You never know how celestial all people's craving to be connected. Share your earphones, share your stories, your food, your sandwich, your passion, your favorite poems, do carpool, share your life!
8. Call your parents regularly. God, they love it, and sometimes they just don't show it :). And don't just call, communicate.
9. Swap books with your friends. Or even strangers -- although I haven't tried this yet but I will in my travels. Put some personal notes on the pages that made an impact to you.  I secretly like reading dedication of authors and even of owners at the first few pages of the book. It makes me smile.
10. Be conscious. Be aware. Go within. Reflect. I used to back away when I feel uncomfortable, but now I am learning to reflect first, to ask why, to look for the cause of discomfort and resolve it or conquer it and move towards an empowering choice. I do my best to be conscious with my choices everyday, I do. If I ever I don't, I try not to beat myself up (try being the operative word, still a work in progress) and resolve to make choices that reflect the me that I want to be, next time.
11. Discover.  Master the thin line between asking for directions so you can be confident in going anywhere and enjoying that moment of being lost and open to exciting possibilities.

Listening To:  The Shins' Kissing The Lipless (one of those personal right-on lyrics --  it has too much to do with me, and secretly I want to bury in the yard, the grey remains of a friendship scarred), New Slang,  So Says I - among the awesome many.

Psycho Mode#4: Last Night, Overheard at the Landmark Forum, Someone Shared.

Then I saw him online and the voice in my head was saying, Oh my god, don't talk to him don't you even dare! Yadayadayada. But I decided to take over that head in my voice. What have I got to lose chatting with him? And then it started [...]. And on it went and seamlessly, it just went into our conversation that the reason I broke up with him was because I was beginning to love him. And I was scared.

She said that conversation with her ex was the best conversation of her life.

Explosion and Sheesha Stuff

Last week with dad around, our TV was always tuned to TV Patrol every night. I watched the  news covering the visit of GMA during the aftermath of the Glorietta 2 "bombing" now referred to as "explosion".  I wonder why GMA had to do this kind of publicity which aimed to to show to the inherently shopaholic Pinoys that everything is back to normal so please come back shopping at the malls. Jesus, 11 people died, they were just there shopping or probably dining, or probably meeting someone, had no clue that this was it, the end. Do I really want to be consoled that malls are now back to be a haven of commerce and of safety? I guess I was expecting a bit more time before that, some message that our government will ensure any infrastructure negligence will be dealt with. Empathy sana sa kinalalagyan din ng mga pamilya who lost their loved ones pero "business as usual" daw. Hayy, I saw the president consoling the investors instead of the country.  She even shopped, kaloka. I never ranted about politics for the past year except today. Wow. That's why on my own, I never watched the news or read the paper.

--- oOo ----

Posting birthday pictures from the tagaytay trip with the hakunas, Fe, Mels, and Gigi.  I planned the trip extensively, because we have all been dying for a road trip together and I was the designated driver :).  I researched on the food we are going to eat, the coffeeshop we are going to visit and I wrote everything down including contact numbers on a piece of paper so I could contact the owners when we get lost which I already expected we will. 

 

While we were at the Caltex stopover at SLEX, I realized, true to form, I forgot to bring the paper and I ended up texting Pogs (who's in Cincinnatti, slaving away) to text me the address and contact numbers -- I was sure he was at home cyber-connected, timezone difference and all.  Manos Greek Tavern is that great place with great food but ambiance is so-so - typical hole in the wall talaga. Which is why we love it. The food is sumptuous and super value for money! Manos is very friendly, he seems to host your lunch at his home :). Excellent Greek cuisine, some menu items much better than Cyma :D.

Oh, also a great find for an exotic alternative coffeeshop if you're bored of Bag of Beans already: Taj of Tagaytay -- best view and the sofas and chairs are the best.  The staff are very accomodating to our whims, um Fe's whims. Fe asked to drag her favorite big sofa chair in order to sit with us, lounging with the view and they happily complied.  Sheesha is the best, it's like smoking without the nicotine says Mels, or inhaling my sprayer without the medicine.  We tried strawberry flavored sheesha, the best!

I also promised never to drive again at night at South Luzon Expressway. Ang dilim, sobra, I was gripping the steering wheel, feeling at any moment mababangga ko wall or any road blockage!  After the trip, we went back to Bicutan and we had dinner at this secret place na super cheap (pork barbeque for 20 pesos?), suki na kami duon hahaha! I forgot the name, I'll post it next time! 

And girls, till next time! :)