¡Hola Barcelona!

Currently in Barcelona, my first pit stop before going back home. I feel oddly at home here. The words aren´t alien to me, and I can understand the people here. I get to practice my broken Spanish, and I am using the chance to look for an ancestor, a century removed.

My great-great-great grandfather was Catalan, born and raised here. He and his two brothers were sent to the Philippines, members of the military service. Here´s hoping that his grave is where they say it is!

Pakistani's Bhutto Killed in Attack

When I read today's Yahoo Newsreport on Benazir Bhutto's death, I knew that it was an inevitable conclusion to a very long and storied life.

When she returned to Pakistan, narrowly escaping death a few hours after arriving, I already had an ominous feeling that she was living on borrowed time. How sad that my intuition was proven correct.

I had interviewed her before, and she struck me as a very strong person, yet she was not arrogant at all. She took time for little old me, a 21 year old cowering in fear of this world-renowed woman, at the corridor of the Manila Hotel.

Will Pakistan do an EDSA? They have their Ninoy. But the problems in Pakistan are a many-headed beast. Musharaf is not the main problem. People there can't help but abet Islamic-fundamentalist terrorists, after glorifying it's existence for 30-odd years.

She loved her country. She was a wonderful woman. I wish her a good journey into the afterlife.

Merry Christmas!

Happy Holidays from us!

We're having fun with the parentals, split Christmases (You have the 25th, I'll have them the 26th) catching up with family gossip (they broke up? what?) and preparing for the long, sweet journey home.

See you pinas! Can't wait!

Amazing Race Asia Makes Me Sick!

What's the point of a reality show when almost every contestant is in showbiz?! Dammit I'm not downloading you!

P.S. Terri is the best thing on that show

Sa Aking Mga Kabata--Jose Rizal

Sa Aking Mga Kabata

Kapagka ang baya'y sadyang umiibig
Sa kanyang salitang kaloob ng langit,
Sanglang kalayaan nasa ring masapit
Katulad ng ibong nasa himpapawid.

Pagka't ang salita'y isang kahatulan
Sa bayan, sa nayo't mga kaharian,
At ang isang tao'y katulad, kabagay
Ng alin mang likha noong kalayaan.

Ang hindi magmahal sa kanyang salita
Mahigit sa hayop at malansang isda,
Kaya ang marapat pagyamaning kusa
Na tulad sa inang tunay na nagpala.

Ang wikang Tagalog tulad din sa Latin
Sa Ingles, Kastila at salitang anghel,
Sapagka't ang Poong maalam tumingin
Ang siyang naggawad, nagbigay sa atin.

Ang salita nati'y huwad din sa iba
Na may alfabeto at sariling letra,
Na kaya nawala'y dinatnan ng sigwa
Ang lunday sa lawa noong dakong una.


Nakakalungkot isipin na sa mata ng aking mga kababayan, mas nakahihigit ang Ingles kaysa sa Tagalog. Ako ma'y pinalaki sa wikang Ingles, hindi ko masusuklian ang mga guro , mapa-Ingles o Tagalog, na nagturo sa amin ng baybaying wika. Isang taos-pusong salamat lamang ang aking masasabi.

Kahit pa noong nasa Pilipinas pa ako, hindi ako mag-iingles kung hindi naman ako kinakausap ng ingles. Kung Tagalog ang usapan, matatas din naman akong mag-Tagalog, hindi naman ako mag-Ingles hangga't hindi sa akin ikinusa.

Nakakatawang isipin na nuong ako'y bata, pinagtawanan ako ng aking mga ka-klase dahil sa tatas kong mag-Ingles. Ngayon, dahil sa mga call center, pilit nilang ginagaya kung ano ang dati nilang pinagtatawanan. Pilit nilang ginagaya ang salita ng mga dayuhan nguni't katawatawa minsan ang resulta nito.

Dahil sa aking trabaho bilang guro, naiintindihan ko na mayroong mga taong hirap sa ibang lengguahe. May kanya-kanya tayong mga talento. May mga taong pinalaki lamang sa iisang wika, at kung minsan hanggang doon lang talaga ang kaya nila. Pero nakakalungkot isipin na may mga taong nagsasabing hindi nila kayang sabihin ang kanilang saloobin sa kanilang inang wika, at pilit na pinipilipit nila ang kanilang mga dila sa isang wikang dayuhan. Isang biyaya ang pagkakaroon ng isang bansang may dalawang wika. Bawat wika ay isang pintuan sa isang mundo, at posibilidad. Kaya't hirap man, pilit kong inusisa ang wikang Aleman. Ang salitang Ingles ay hindi nakahihigit sa salita natin, ang wika ng ating mga ninuno.

Kung magsusulat o magsasalita rin lamang kayo sa dalawang wika, pag-igihan ninyo ang baybayin sa dalawa. Alam niyo ba na ang wikang Tagalog ang isa pinaka-mahirap na matutunan sa Indo-Malayan group of Languages?

Total Eclipse of the Mind

When was the last time that you did something that you wanted to do for a really, really long time, but never had the guts to do it because you were afraid people would make fun of you?

I look so straight-laced, but I am actually naturally insane. Really. I don't need no drugs to make an ass out of myself.

I've always wanted to do an interpretative dance in public ever since I saw Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion.



And I actually got the chance to do it!

I was at a friend's farewell party last Saturday, and it was a blast! They had karaoke and dancing, and somebody sang Total Eclipse of the Heart, by Bonnie Tyler. I realized that this was a perfect song to do interpretative dance, and I actually went for it! Thomas just stood at the corner, shaking his head in embarassment, but it was so much fun, I didn't care! I couldn't dance for shit, but hey, this is MY moment, fucker.

Marcus, Adam's co-worker was the only one who actually "got" what I did and congratulated me by saying that my dance touched his heart *sniff*.

The Strangest Job Offer in the World

One of the worst stereotypes about being an Asian is that people think I am a prostitute. Well, the worst part is that even my fellow Asians would think that I would like to be one.

The word "Thai massage" does not have any sexual connotations where I come from. Since massages have a rich tradition in Asia, almost everybody gets a massage once or twice a month, at least in my family.

Here in Germany, however, especially in the small cities, the words "Thai massage" automatically have a sleazy meaning. Big places like Hamburg are fine. Thomas and I went to this tiny place when we visited Hamburg and it was the best massage that I got since I arrived in in Europe.

I have had no such luck here. I am always on the look-out for a good massage parlor/practitioner in Thüringen. The German masseuses I have tried don't really have a feeling to how much pressure they should exert on a person. They have a uniform pressure for everyone that always equates to OUCH! until I tell them to go easy on me.

About two months ago, I saw a place here in that advertised Thai Massage on it's door. I rang the bell and an Asian woman in her negligee, with eyes blacked with a deep purple eyeshadow opened the door for me. In German, I asked her for her rates. She pointed to the wall--

30 min: 50 €
1 Stunde: 100 €

With those rates, they were obviously offering more than massages, so I thanked them politely, and walked away.

Last Wednesday, near the Ausländerbehörde, I saw an apartment with a very conspicuous sign, "Thai Massage" It had bright yellow arrows pointing to the door, and a reflexology chart on the window. It may be legit, I told myself, so I rang the door.

A woman very similar to the lady I met two months earlier opened the door to me. When she saw me, she asked me in a very excited voice, both in Thai and in German, if I was her kababayan. No, I said, I'm Filipino. An older lady appeared, just as heavily made up and as scantily dressed. I told them I wanted a massage. How much are your rates?

She pointed to a wall:

30 min: 30 €
1 Stunde: 60 €

Though they were more reasonable, an hour-long massage in Hamburg cost me 40 €. With those prices, I don't think they do just massages.

Then the first woman asked me if I wanted to work for them! I explained to them that I already work as an English teacher. The younger woman didn't quite understand what I said, but the older woman, whose German seemed to be better, slightly rebuked the younger lady. I wish I understood what she said.

Then the door rang, and the older woman ushered me into a room, apparently their living quarters. She gave me their card and showed me their Gutschein. You want one? I said no. Outside, I heard a man's voice, and the younger woman's shrill, broken German.

The older lady was really nice. I think they're legit, but I'm not sure. I'll probably go in and try them one of these days.

The Random Facts About Myself List

Was tagged by Heidelbergerin.

Let's turn this into a Letterman Top 7 list!

7 Reasons Why Cathy is the Weirdo that she is!

7. She talks to herself when she's alone or really, really pissed off.

6. She likes being an English teacher.

5. She should get off her ass already and pursue her dream of being a travel journalist.

4. She blew her entire life savings to fund her plane ticket and her first month in Germany.

3. Used to work for a high-ranking politician back in the motherland, and left it behind for a blonde.

2. Is liberal, but didn't start taking the pill until the age of 27, because the Catholic Church said that it is poison, and didn't want to risk poisoning her body.

1. She's a trilingual Asian living in East Germany. 'Nuff said.

to Dr. Mitsuru,
Adam, and
Eurotrippen,

here are the rules.
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird.
3. Tag 3 people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blogs.

Ich kann nur träumen!

I am currently trying to piece together an article on Jose Rizal, hopefully for web publication. It never ceases to amaze me how amazing the man was. I am a big admirer of polyglots, like Jose Rizal and Vladimir Nabokov. Rizal could speak 12 languages fluently, write in 5 proficiently, and had knowledge in 20 in total. To think that I consider having learned the intricacies of German a feat! I would still like to insert Spanish and maybe Japanese.

Heto ang kopya ng mga sulatin ni Jose Rizal kay Ferdinand Blumentritt. Isinulat niya ito sa Aleman, at humingi siya ng paumanhin kay Blumentritt sa kanyang "bastos na Aleman." (kitchen German, as he put it.) Galing sa ufrey.geocities.com



Mahirap basahin ang Aleman ni Rizal dahil nuong panahon na iyon, iba ang pagkakasulat ng Aleman. Mayroon silang sariling titik, parang Cyrillic. Mahirap, pero posibleng basahin ang Aleman nuon kung ito ay inilathala sa isang libro o sa diyaryo. Pero kapag sulat-kamay na, patay kang bata ka. I tried reading a handwritten text once from the 1930s, the English notebook of a German schoolboy, and it was really in vain. It looked like a bunch of squiggles!

And here is another letter from Rizal to Blumentritt, in English! God, his English is almost flawless! And to think that English at that time was not yet the lingua franca that it is today!



Und hier ist die Fortsetzung von dem Brief. Einen Teil davon ist auf Französisch. Apol, please read this letter and rate his French. How good is it?



Ich muss mehr daran arbeiten, bis mein Deutsch perfekt ist!

The Weirdness in Me

Being a Manila girl through and through, I have acquired a taste of the bizzare. In fact, it is once of the things I look for it in a city. I find comfort in the city life's strangeness. One favorite expressions is, "That's so weird!" because life in Manila IS weird.

Thomas couldn't live in Manila. The pollution in the air gave him a nasty ear infection , which made him admire the fact that I am Manila's cockroach: I can take the rancid air, the confusing streets, and the darkness in people's hearts.

One of the things that I miss about big city life is the edge that it gave me. It may not have been healthy, but these are the things that defined who I am. Dinner at 2 a.m. at a tapa joint after a one night stand, deep conversations with strangers with whom you'll never meet again, deranged lunatics raving at streetcorners, the occasional flasher.

You can take me out of the big city, but you can't take the big city out of me.

I liked Jena, but one of the things that I could never get over was the fact that it is postcard pretty. Too pretty. In it may lie a heart of darkness, but the green of the hills and the smallness of ordinary life was just too...normal. It scared me and freaked me out, because for me, it was truly weird.

I don't like the city where I live better than Jena, but I find more comfort in the fact that because of its size, weird things can still happen to me here in my new city.

I was hanging out with a co-worker and a couple of his friends at his balcony. Suddenly, a naked man materialized at the window in the building opposite his. He was smoking. Naked.

All the girls huddled excitedly at the show. The naked man, in his 30s, a thin, dark Italian type, would smoke a fag every hour. Watching us, watching him. At his third appearance he sat at his windowsill and started pulling on his man bits. The girls started to scream and laugh their heads off.

Me? I just sat back, satisfied that life was back to normal.

My First Suman Latik

It's a bit too late to include this post in the whole Suman Latik movement of last year, but slap an apron on me and call me Betty Crocker. I made Suman Latik Baby!



I followed the recipe from the English Patis blog. Thanks so much Leila for sending me lihiya for my birthday! I can now make a piece of home whenever I want!



It all started when a student of mine told me that he had to cut down his banana tree for the winter. I asked for all of his banana leaves to make suman! Suman is glutinous rice cake, with lye water mixed in. Before asking me whether suman is toxic, lye water is a staple of SE Asian desserts, and the Germans also use it to make pretzels. It's actually some sort of sodium-potassium mixture, or potash (?)

I had a hard time finding lye water here in my city. I went to the Vietnamese stores, but they all told me that they didn't have it! I think they do have it, but they didn't know what I was talking about. I tried to find the Vietnamese name for lye water, but I didn't find it on the internetz. So if you know the Vietnamese name of lye water, help a poor Filipina sister in need and send me the name! I don't want to trouble Leila of sending me lye water all the way from Darmstadt again!

Love+Marriage= Children?

I have reached a certain age, and I am at a certain point in my life, where people feel entitled to assume that I want to get pregnant. You can pretty much tell a woman's age by the questions people throw at her.

When I was around 23-25ish, people bugged me when I was gonna get married, regardless of the fact that hey, I'm SINGLE! or that I haven't met anybody I was willing to suffer for more than 2 days. Nowadays, MIL, my sister, and most mothers I know are bugging me when I am gonna get pregnant.

My MIL, probably wanting a new purpose in life, has pointedly proposed that we either a)move back to Jena or b) that she move in with us, without any regard for our ambitions or career chances or the fact that I want my privacy, dammit.

I think I am ready for children. However, not now, not yet. I have too many things to do and too many ambitions left unfulfilled. Besides, if childcare were just as easy as it is in the Philippines, where I can hire a nanny for 50 € a month, or in the old GDR, where childcare is institutionalized. But we're not in the GDR anymore, sweetie.

I was glad to know that my mother and my aunt support my decision. Not now, not yet.

Pilipinas, Gising!

Nakaka-frustrate basahin ang balitang ito.

Doctor to honor Ramadan rituals in space

By VIJAY JOSHI, Associated Press WriterWed Oct 10, 4:56 PM ET

A Malaysian doctor who will spend the last days of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan in space has vowed to follow the rituals of his faith even as he hurtles around Earth at 17,000 mph.

Sheikh Muszaphar Shukor lifted off Wednesday in a Soyuz spacecraft from Kazakhstan, en route to the international space station where he will spend about 10 days.

The spacecraft — which also carried an American and a Russian — will take two days to reach the station, a period coinciding with the last days of Ramadan, the month when Muslims fast from dawn to dusk. Sheikh Muszaphar has said he will fast and pray in space, even though clerics said he could delay the fast.

"I am not sure how it would be done but I will share my experiences (with) all the Muslims all over the world when I get back," the 35-year-old Sheikh Muszaphar wrote in his Web journal. "After all, Islam is a way of life and I am quite sure I would not face much difficulties."

Sheikh Muszaphar is taking vacuum-packed Malaysian food, including skewered chicken, banana rolls, fermented soybean cakes and ginger jelly to mark the end of Ramadan.

A bachelor who has become a national heartthrob, the orthopedic surgeon will not be the first Muslim in space — Saudi Prince Sultan bin Salman joined the crew of the shuttle Discovery in 1985 and there have been several others since.

Still, the mission initially presented a dilemma about fulfilling religious duties such as fasting, kneeling for prayers in zero gravity or facing Mecca to pray.

After all, praying five times daily on a craft that goes around Earth 16 times a day would have meant praying 80 times in 24 hours. Also, it is virtually impossible to face Mecca continuously in a craft traveling at such high speed.

Muslims are required to wash their hands, feet, face and hair before prayers — a luxury on the Soyuz where water is so precious that even sweat and urine are recycled.

To get around these problems, 150 Malaysian scholars, scientists, and astronauts brainstormed and published an 18-page booklet of guidelines for Muslim astronauts.

If he follows the guidelines, Sheikh Muszaphar can forgo fasting in space and make up for it when he returns to Earth. He can pray three times a day instead of five, facing any direction, and he can do without the ritual washing.

On Tuesday, Sheikh Muszaphar told reporters his trip will be an inspiration for his Southeast Asian homeland as well as to other Muslims worldwide.

"It's a small step for me, but a great leap for the Malaysian people," he said, rephrasing Neil Armstrong's words after the 1969 moon landing.

Pilipinas, GISING! Imbes na asikasuhin niyo yang si Teri Hatcher at Big Brother, isipin natin kung saan patungo ang mga buhay natin!

I mean, hello, si Manny Paquiao na lang ba ang greatest Filipino? Mga OFWs? Bago tayo gumawa ng mga kung ano-anong online petitions, alisin nating ang kakitiran ng utak natin, huwag tayong masyadong padadala sa sulsol ng mga pari at pulitiko at mayayaman. Napaka-insecure ba natin na hindi tayo makapag-isip sa sarili natin? Huwag kayong tumingin sa Amerika, huwag kayong umasa sa Simbahan at sa Puliloko. Nasa atin ang solusyon.

Sa totoo lang, hindi na ako nagbabasa ng balita mula sa Pilipinas. Nanggagalaiti lang ako sa galit!

Die Wochenendebeziehung

Ich habe ein Geheimnis von euch versteckt. Wie millionen anderen Paaren in Deutschland, Thomas und ich führen eine Wochenendebeziehung. Er arbeitet als Leistungserhöher (wenn es den Begriff überhaupt gibt), ein Art von Consultant, in die Schweiz. Ich bleibe hier in Erfurt als Englischlehrerin. Wir sehen uns nur am Wochenende, und sogar nur für einundhalb Tage.

Ich rede immer von einem Leben zusammen, aber seit ende Mai diesem Jahr, wir haben nur am Fritag um 23 Uhr bis 14 Uhr am Sonntag Zeit.

Es tut schon weh für uns. Es tut mir Leid wenn ich sehe wie eine acht stunde Reise ihm belastet. Ich kann nicht richtig schlafen wenn er nicht hier ist, aber was sollst? Wir sind jung, und wir haben Karriere, Ziele, und Traüme. Und Kinder, Hof, und Küche ist noch nicht Priorität. Es klingt egoistisch, es ist aber so.

Es war wirklich schwerig am Anfang. Ich war neu in Erfurt, alle Leute waren Fremd. Ich hatte nur meine Arbeit. Ich habe schon allein gewohnt, ich hatte meine eigene Wohnung in die Philippinen. Aber diese neue Einsamkeit war fast unerträglich, weil natürlich ich schon mit einem Leben zur Zweit gewohnt bin. Die Erwartungen, die ich hatte, war eine Wohnung mit zwei Leute. Die Enttäuschung war irgenwie besonders schwerig. In die Phlippinen, Manila war der Ort, wo alle Sache herkommen. In Deutschland, in Europa, Dezentralisation bedeutet, dass Gelegenheiten irgendwoanders liegen kann.

Ich kann nicht umziehen weil sein Vertrag nur bis Dezember läuft. Wir wissen nicht, wo sein nächsten Auftrag ist. Ich glaube, dass unsere Beziehung stark genug ist, und solche Situationen werden unsere Beziehung nicht belasten. Aber die Hoffnung bleibt, dass wir irgenwann in einer Stadt arbeiten und wohnen würden.

Finally...the One?

One book that led me to view life from another frame of mind was "The Commitment," by Dan Savage. He put into question our concept of a "successful marriage." According to him, "til death do us part" marriages are not necessarily happy nor fruitful. There are several marriages, like his own parents', that did not withstand the test of time but from all aspects were actually successful.

Thomas and I had a dicussion last year about the fate of our relationship. He said that should a point in time come that we aren't happy together anymore, we shouldn't view our relationship with regret. That I, in case we break up, should not think that our journey together was a waste of time.

At that time, I didn't understand him, and I viewed his belief as a sort of defense mechanism developed by kids of broken marriages. I viewed it then suspiciously, like the way I viewed pre-nuptial agreements back then.

Reading my old posts about how I wanted my future husband to be makes me laugh! They sound so childish and immature, familiar and yet alien. Was this me? Was I really that crazy? Thomas, if anything, is the opposite of the guy with whom I imagined myself married. The guy I wanted to be with is moneyed, articulate, well-read, a city boy. Thomas is proud of the fact that aside from his school textbooks, he has only read one book his entire life, The Da Vinci Code. I met Thomas as a "poor German student," now he is a "stuggling young professional." Thomas is not verbally articulate, and we settled here in Erfurt as a compromise. He hates big cities.

Yet, we get along really well. We can occupy the same space for extended periods of time without killing each other. Are we two halves of a whole? Probably not. I would describe our relationship like a fusion dish. You never thought that chili and chocolate would taste so good together, but they do! I guess if ended up with my New York Kinda Guy, he would be so insufferable that we would implode.

Before Thomas, I was really wounded by a guy. On paper, we sounded so compatible. We liked books, we were both into the arts, we were both geeks. We wined and dined, and made love because I felt, this was it, he was the one. I rushed into things so strongly that I was blind to the fact that this guy was a neurotic who could crash into a hysterical breakdown at any moment.

So is Thomas the one? Could be. I don't know. I'm not saying. But it's fun having him along for the ride.

Everything fell into place.

Come to think of it, there was never really a definite point in time when he asked me to marry him.

We just knew.

There was no proposal, no 5,000 € engagement ring, no flowers, no bended knees. I guess we're not romantic like that.

It was a fact that we took for granted. I guess it started when we were still living in the Philippines, when sentences like, "I want to name our daughter ---" or "What will happen then when we get married?" started winding its way into our conversations, about four months into the relationship.

This weird inner knowledge that we were going to end up together saw us through our toughest times, like when his father didn't sign the affidavit of support so I could get my German visa, when a land mass separated us for four months.

And even during our darkest moments last year, when I was thinking about calling it quits, he was most determined to keep the relationship going. He refused to accept that I was going to call it quits because of a mistake he made, and negating all of the hard work we have invested in a relationship he knew hasn't yet reached its peak.

We had no definite plans of when to do it, but we knew it was going to happen.

Then came the time that we had to do it. We shrugged our shoulders and said, why not? We want to get married anyway.

We wanted to have a proper wedding here in Germany, but many things came in the way. German bureaucracy, internal family problems. So we said, "Screw it, we're going to Vegas, baby!"

We rented a car, and took a week off from work and drove to Denmark. No parents, no friends. It was just me and him. Just how we wanted it. Just how we have always done it. Me and him.

We always get by with a little help from our friends. Thank you for supporting us!

Our Dirty Little Secrets

Warning: Adult Content

What women like me don't understand about men is how they think that we're hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. That we are not normal, that we're from another planet, that we won't understand.

For example, Thomas's friend Sophie once discovered all of her boyfriend's porn as she was tinkering (with his permission)on his computer. It was hidden under an innocuous title. And she laughed.

"I don't get it with men," she said. "Why would he think that I would be offended if I knew he downloaded porn? Every normal guy I know downloads porn!"

And for some reason, men don't like to acknowledge that women masturbate.

People who have read my blog from the very beginning know that I like porn. You all know that this blog started out as an anonymous sex blog until I had to give up the ghost because I was discovered. You all know that I am very comfortable with myself and my sexuality. Thomas knows all that, and we're together partly because he was the only boyfriend I've had who was actually more than ok with the fact that I wash my dirty linen online.

I think it's cute that he sometimes asks me for permission to masturbate. "Is it ok sweetie? I feel like it and I hope you're not angry."

Of course I'm not angry. I completely understand. While I prefer sex zur zweit, there are times when I want to spend some quiet time by myself, and do some good old-fashioned Selbstbefriedigung. One great thing about our relationship is that we are willing to let the other person alone when he or she wants to be left alone.

I won't get much into detail, but I will let these things slip. He is, uh, aided by his computer, and I have a favorite pillow that I always have around when I do my thing.

However, Thomas has come to hate the pillow. "Nimm den Feind weg!" He exclaims, tossing the pillow to the other end of the room at bedtime. Sometimes, when I have the pillow beside me before I go to sleep, I will find it pushed to the floor when I wake up. I think it's hilarious. I have an idea why he feels threatened, but there goes the theory that women are hypersensitive jealous insecure bitches on PMS. Maybe we should be looking at the men!

The Bride Wore Purple

Wir sind jetzt verheiratet!

Welcome to the '80s!

First up, hanapin niyo ako sa Chuvaness! Nakakatuwa!



It's a bit late, but Thomas and I were invited to an '80s party last July 27. It was a lot of fun and I went as



Aja from Jem and the Holograms! It wasn't an accurate costume, but what the hey.



Thomas as some random 80s dude. No, actually he's wearing his father's wedding tux, sans the coat. So his outfit really came from the 80s. Styling: Arashi-Kishu



This woman was so chica I wish I thought of her outfit. She kinda reminds me of Janeane Garofalo. Janeane was so pretty before all of the plastic surgery, and hella funny.



I thought that they were well-dressed as well.

The guys generally didn't put as much effort into their outfits as the girls (boo!) although, there was some random guy who I think came as one of the Flock of Seagulls.

A Eulogy for Mommy

Taken during Mommy's Oathtaking. Ipinanganak siyang Pinoy at namatay siyang Amerikano.

Hello everybody. It pains me that I can’t be there right now physically, but I am with you in spirit.

Nita Llorente, Tita Nitz to you and Mommy to her family, was a very important person in my life. She, along with my grandfather shaped the person who I am today. It has determined my career, my life, and the road I have travelled. With them gone, I truly feel that I have been orphaned.

Her departure was very unexpected. We all know mommy to be a very healthy and vibrant person, tough as nails, always game, up for anything. In fact, she was at a party hours before she passed. That was typical of mommy. I never saw her sick or weak. I think she also didn’t want others to see her that way, so she decided to trump old age, in order gave us a memory of a very alive, very active mommy.

Come to think of it, mommy left the world in the same way she lived her life: She was a very impatient woman, always in a hurry, “Bahala na si Batman,” Schnell, schnell schnell! My mommy is not difficult woman to understand. For better or for worse, she is, at her very core, Filipino.

I would like to relate several anecdotes that show the quintessential mommy, at her best and the worst. Mommy is the kind of woman who can strike up a conversation anytime, with anyone. She has so much “P.R.,” my people skills are miniscule compared to the PR that she had. She gained valuable contacts, given away bottles of noni wine, and even my old cellphone, just because she had the happy accident of sitting next to someone, somewhere.

The last time mommy and I spent good, quality time together was the summer of 2004. Since I was a child, she promised that she would take me to her hometown of Carigara, Leyte. It was the place where she grew up, and where her family hid during the second world war. The prospect of travel excited me, and I asked her about it every summer. Ten years of promises later, she finally said that this was the year and off we were. She packed her suitcase full of clothes. “Mommy, why don’t you use a duffel bag?” “Ayoko,” she said. And that was that.

We first spent a few days in Cebu, where I cajoled and begged her to go to Malapascua, an island north of Cebu, touted in a magazine article I read as “the next Boracay.”At first she refused, but she thankfully changed her mind. With no clue and no place to stay, we left at noon, on Maundy Thursday. We took a non-airconditioned bus from Cebu City to Bogo, the next city before reaching the tip of Cebu island. We got there at 4 p.m. Because it was Holy Week, there were no more buses or FX taxis that would take us to the shore. We discussed the matter for a bit before Mommy said, “Let’s take the habal-habal!”

For those who don’t know, a habal-habal is nothing more than a motorcycle used as a public utility vehicle. Straddle yourself behind the driver, say a quick prayer, and off you go. Because of the lack of easy public transportation in the provinces, there are the most accessible means of movement.

After negotiating a 50 peso fare, the driver said yes and scratched his head, trying to figure out how we were all going to fit on the motorcycle.

Imagine this: A motorcycle. On it were a suitcase, the driver, mommy, then me, with a heavy backpack! I had to endure a 30 minute ride through unpaved jungle road as the handlebar at the end of the motorcycle seat poked uncomfortably at my tailbone. I clung to mommy, desperately trying not to fall off.

We got to the end of Cebu island, and we were able to easily charter a motorboat to take us to Malapascua. With her knowledge of Cebuano, mommy started chatting with a young man, who turned out to be the son of the boat’s owner. We said that we didn’t have a place to stay, and asked whether we could stay at his house. I wanted to shush up mommy, because I felt she was pushing her luck, but surprisingly, he said yes! He offered us to stay in his house, for free! Ang galing ni mommy no?

Our Malapascua experience was the best part of the trip. Even mommy said so.

As we moved on to other islands like Leyte, through meandering bus trips through winding roads, I felt I got to know mommy more. I guess this was God’s way of giving us time to get to truly know each other, because it was next to the last time we saw each other. We passed through Ormoc on our way to Carigara, where I was to be introduced to her relatives. She told me that she studied first grade in Negros, because her father had business there. She told me many other stories, the war, her relatives. We spoke about how our lives have turned out. We spoke about my grandfather. Most of the time, however, I just listened and tried to learn as much about this woman as I can. It is this summer that will be forever etched in my memory.

We are all the more poorer for having lost her, but heaven has gained a woman rich in passion, imagination and creativity. I love you mommy. We all do.

Thank you for teaching me about life, giving me love and protecting me. Thank you for teaching me about antiques, about beads and tamburin. Thank you for teaching me how to appreciate culture. Thank you for the afternoons we spent together at Treasure House. Thank you for taking me to Tita Ting’s old house in Horseshoe Village. Thank you for teaching me how to make ampaw and loofah. Thank you for cooking breakfast for me. Thank you for giving me jewelry that I always misplaced as a child. I will always treasure the coral necklace you gave me. Thank you, thank you. I know you know how much I loved you, and how grateful that you loved me too.

I would also like to ask everybody to say a prayer for Mommy, and to thank her for whatever she has given you, whether it be friendship, her company, or even for just knowing her. We are all the more richer for having known Juanita Conchas Llorente.

We Don't Need No Religion

Before my grandma passed away, my aunt sent me a package containing my SLR camera, Filipino noodles, and old issues of Kerygma, a very popular Filipino Christian/Catholic magazine.

The presence of these magazines in the package raised my eyebrows mile-high. I am in my second year of "living in sin" with Thomas, and I have absolutely no regrets. Despite my Catholic schoolgirl upbringing, I have abandoned my inhibitions about sex and my Catholic schoolgirl masturbation guilt. I know that my family will never see it the way that I do, that living a morally upright and spiritual life CAN be mutually exclusive from religion. I had the distinct feeling that the magazines in that package were a secret jab at my life decision of moving to Germany and living with somebody who is not only NOT Catholic, but doesn't have a religion.

People may think that it's a bit hypocritical of me to still be a regular churchgoer and live my lifestyle. I actually don't see it that way.

There was a time in my late teens and early 20s when I tried my darndest to fit myself into the Catholic mold. I worked for a Catholic magazine and a Catholic news organization. But try as I might, I never fit in. I just didn't believe in everything that the Catholic Church said, and still says. I once had a very enlightening discussion with an old co-worker about religion. People may leave because of misbehaving priests and other church scandals, but my ex-officemate said it the best:

"People who lose faith because of priests have a very shallow faith in the first place. You don't go to Church because of the institution, the institution is human and therefore weak. You go to church because you believe. If you believe in God, why would you base your faith on other people's actions within the Church?"

That hit a nerve. And you know what? Despite the Catholic Church and all its failings, I believe in God. I like going to church. I like the peace it gives me. I am aware that the priests are human. They make mistakes, some unforgivable. But why should I let the institution tarnish what I believe in? I grew up with the Catholic model of a God, so what is the point of changing?

Two months ago, I got into a discussion in Jena with a Brit who grew up in Switzerland. I generally avoid talking about religion, but this guy was fascinated by it and talked of nothing but. I told him of my belief that if Thomas's mom had some form of religion, she would be in a better state emotionally after her separation with her husband. Three years after and she is still as broken up about it as if it were yesterday.

He said that his father found religion after his divorce. With a fascinated tone, he revealed that although his father was not deeply religious, he became an active Anglican after his separation and his emotional healing was apparently very fast.

I offered my two cents. "It's the feeling of being needed, I think. It's the knowing, through these organizations, that there are worse problems than your own." He agreed.

Thomas may not be religious, but he respects my Catholic faith and goes to Church with me. He doesn't have a religion, but he does believe in a God. I will probably raise my children in the Catholic faith, but I won't pressure them to be Catholic. They may choose to be Buddhist or Muslim or Agnostic, I don't care. As long as they are good people with good hearts, that is all that matters. After all, being religious doesn't automatically mean that you are a good person.

I am convinced that although I have not taken the straight and narrow path, I am still innately a good and moral person. And Nobody is going to convince me otherwise.
-------------------
Related articles:


Cacioppo directing study on health benefits derived from spiritual beliefs



Societies worse off 'when they have God on their side'

Am I the Only One Who Doesn't Like "Weeds?"

Everybody has been raving about the new TV show "Weeds," and I gave it a whirl. Unfortunately, I was very disappointed by the show. Oooh, pot-selling mom, how edgy! Hah! Is that your definition of edgy? A pot-dealing mom who is the only sane person in the whole series? How formulaic. Everything was so predictable. The idealized dead father, the screw-up brother, the black marijuana wholesalers, the adults who refuse to grow up, the not-everything-is-what-it-seems suburbs (sorry, American Beauty and The Ice Storm covered that territory already, repeated ad nauseum in different TV shows and movies). Even the deux ex machina of a case of Diet Coke falling from the sky was so fucking predictable. That was supposed to be sarcastic? Ho-hum. It has its funny moments but I gave up after the fourth episode.

If you really want a really dark, sarcastic comedy, watch the Danish film They Eat Dogs in China. But I'm afraid viewing it would give the average middle American an aneurysm.

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A meme from Presea

My Lakbayan grade is C!

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out at Lakbayan!

Created by Eugene Villar.

I love you, mommy

From Left: Tita Lulu, My Mother, Tito Jag, Tito Nonoy, My Mommy, Grace, Tita Bingo, a cousin.

You raised me, you taught me almost everything that I know. You were flawed, but you were perfect. You were my grandmother,but you were the best mother I could have ever had. Thanks, I love you, and I will miss you. I'm sorry you didn't get to meet him, that you can't come to Denmark now. I'm sorry I couldn't be there. I hope, no, I know you would understand.

Juanita Conchas Llorente, 3 Jan 1928-4 Aug 2007

The Day I Lost My Voice

It has been a strange, sad, and wonderful year. I have reached many milestones, and I am at a wonderful place in my life. Then why am I not writing more often?

Change is the mother of reinvention, and I am in the midst of it. I may have not posted any exciting news, or given up sex stories, or served up anecdotes of my new life in Germany. But it certainly doesn't mean that my life has reached a plateau. No, far from it.

I guess I have come to a point where I don't really want to be an open wound anymore. I have always refused to divulge every mundane detail of my life in my blog. My blog has always been story-oriented in the first place. However, I don't want to show a broken and angry person. Frenetic and exciting as my life was, I am no longer like that.

There was a point, months ago, where I realized that I was in the midst of another identity crisis. Who was I, in this new and frightening place? Just as I asked myself a few years ago, where was my place in the sun? This particular sun was cold and fraught with challenges. I was alone, and yet dependent on one person. It was a very discomfiting place to be. Me, who has always been so independent.

I realized that there was no longer a "me." The me that existed in Manila will never survive in this new environment. So I decided to clam up. I have to, have to, find this new voice before telling my new stories. I stopped writing altogether when I realized this truth.

I am slowly laying roots in this strange country that I will never call my own. I have realized that I may live here a thousand years, but this place can never be my Heimat. Distance from the Philippines has made me realize how Filipino I really am, how proud and how embarrassed I am of us. I was quite surprised at how much I actually know about my country. I can say that I know the Philippines more than the average Filipino.It's quite sad that a lot of people in my generation living in the Philippines know very little about our culture and history. I think that this identity will help shape the new voice that I will develop in the future.

I am looking forward to the day I will start writing again, with a new solid voice that's completely my own.

Language Guilt

I have to admit that my knowledge of the English language is threatening my new-found German literacy. Because I teach English all the time, I hardly get to practice my German. My knowledge is something that will not likely disappear as long as I call this place home.

I have this recurring guilt everytime I pass by the bookstore in front of my workplace. What used to be a place of pleasure has turned into a battleground of choices. Being the (sometimes) indecisive Libra that I am, I sometimes struggle when I pick up a book: should I opt the easy way out and read the English version, or struggle my way through with German? The oh so easy temptation to pick up the English version is ever present.

To settle the matter, I created a self-imposed policy: I will only read German novels in German and English novels in English. The same applies for movies. I have decided that translations are evil. A tall task in a country where everything is translated. The special screening of Harry Potter in English is in itself a special treat. Apparently, many expats here feel the same way, who watched the movie just because they wanted an English oasis in this sea of German, like me an eternity ago. I remembered my frustration when I watched The Devil Wears Prada in German, because I couldn't relate to the lines spewed by the movie reviews I read.

In the end, I know I have to read German if I want to improve my new skills. I only wish for the patience when I plow through Two Brothers from Fürth.

P.S., Don't tell anyone, but I read Das Parfum auf Englisch.

Iba talaga ang Pinoy!

1,500 inmates of the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center in Cebu City, Cebu at practice! This is their special performance for the Cebuano governor.



Sister Act!


Specially for Filipinos!



Sa mga Bisaya gyud! Dayang Dayang! Hahaha! Ang jologs ko!



Pardon my language, pero tangina! LSS! "Jumbo Hotdog, kaya mo ba 'to?"

You Pay Now, Bitch!

There are people who were disturbed with so many profanities coming out of a baby's mouth, but I think this sketch is pure genius! The goddamned absurdity of it all, it's one of the funniest things I have seen in a while.

I heard that Pearl's parents have decided to put her into baby retirement. Understandable, and it was good while it lasted. Thanks, bitches!

Servicewüste Deutschland

The one thing in Germany that would spark a fifteen minute tirade from me--and snickers from my German students--is any mention at the service at Burger King and Mc Donalds.

I come from a place where a large bag of fries costs .50 euro cents. 50 freaking cents. You want ketchup? Sure! Here, have three packets! Do you want more? Better yet, the nice lady behind the counter will give you an empty plastic cup, and you can pump as much ketchup as you want from the ketchup pump in the condiments section. I come from a place where Mc Donalds still fry their fries in Beef Tallow.

In Germany, I don't mind the veggie fries, but what bugs me is that they charge fifteen fucking cents for every packet of ketchup. Fifteen cents! That's a jeepney ride back where I come from. You can buy a 200 g tube of tomato paste at the supermarket for 35 cents! What's the logic of charging 15 cents for a 15 ml packet of ketchup?

It angered me so much that I actually wrote a letter of indignation to the Mc Donalds Germany headquarters. (I tried searching for the letter in my inbox but suspiciously, the email has disappeared, even the copy of the letter I sent isn't in my sent inbox. hmmm...) They said something about the cost of production being too expensive.

And it's not just the service at Mc Donalds and Burger King. A co-teacher at Berlitz bought a pair of shoes at a store in Erfurt, whose name I will not mention. The shoes fell apart after a week. The store only refunded the shoes after he brought in another German-speaking teacher to referee the fight between him vs. the manager.

Besides that, the Zara store in Erfurt is a far cry from the Zara stores that I saw in France. There were dustbunnies making babies in the corners of the dressing rooms, contrary to the German alles ist in Ordnung mentality. Not only that, the overworked teenaged salesperson was quite rude and snapped at us, saying that a particular dressing room is not available.

Come to think of it, there are a lot of very unfriendly salespeople in Germany. I understand that they don't really need the money, but geez, would it kill them to be nice?

That Funny English Language

There is really no other language that is as confusing, as contentious, as English

Working in a language school means that

a) You find out that there is no "one" English
b) Every teacher fancies himself an expert.

I never thought that we Filipinos had our "own" brand of English until I met these people. Jeff, a co-teacher called me over one day and said, "Hey Cathy, is it true that you use the word 'officemate' in the Philippines?"

Now in the dark, cobwebbed corners of my mind, the word 'officemate' made complete sense. Classmate is somebody who you study with, so why not use the word 'officemete' to describe somebody you work with? Besides, I thought that we Filipinos spoke American English?

"Yeah why? It's not used in America?"

"No." He then showed me the Wikipedia webpage on Filipino English, where a number of the words that I took for granted as "universal English" were actually "Filipinizations," if the word exists!

One time I wanted to use a "signpen" to sign a paper, so I asked Michelle, a Canadian teacher, if she had one.

"What's a signpen?"

"You know, a pen with ink."

"You mean a ballpoint pen?"

"No, a ballpoint pen is a ballpen. What I need is a pen with ink flowing from it."

Andrew from New Zealand asked, "You mean a fountain pen?"

"Kind of," I explained, "except that a fountain pen has a funny nib."

"You mean tip?" asked a perplexed Andrew!
-----------------------------------------

The corkboard in the teacher's room has become a minefield of jokes and confusion. Adam walked in one day after another teacher from New Zealand posted a photo with the words "Walking off in a strop" (Read: Walking away in a huff). He did a double-take and asked, "What's that?"

It is now ground zero the battle is now brewing between us and them, the "Brit boys" and American English speakers.

It all started in the teacher's room when Julian from England said that he doesn't drink coffee.

"Me neither." I said.

"'Me neither' is wrong," said Cain from England.

Hamish from Australia said, "I have never used the words 'me neither' until I got here. Where I come from, it's 'me either'."

I hate being corrected when I know I'm right, so I later asked Diane from New York (she has a Long Island accent) to back me up. She was kind enough to produce a piece of paper from the Teacher's Book stating the words "Me neither" is a valid response. I photocopied it, circled the item of interest with a red marker and underlined the words "ME NEITHER." The next day I saw that Hamish scrawled the words, "But that's Berlitz English, not proper English!" at the bottom of the page.

To clear things up, I presented the situation and asked everyone if they would use the words "me neither" in that situation. Andrew from Yorkshire (believe me, that's a whole other dialect), Bruce from New Zealand, and Earl from the US all confirmed that yes, "me neither" is not a mutant form of English. Apparently, the tiff ticked Diane off, who scrawled back "Sez you!" in red letters, just above Hamish's comment.

English is a funny, funny language. Don't get me started on German!

Nalulula Ako @@

Pray tell Tagalog speaking Filipino people, when do we use the pronounKita and Ka?

I was at a party last Saturday night/Sunday morning when I was introduced to Franzi, a Social Pedagogik student who will spend the next 10 months in Manila and Tagaytay working with street children as part of her practicum to become a social worker. I was so excited that I volunteered to teach her Tagalog. For free. Just to see if I can do it, just to see if I can teach in Tagalog as well.

There are no decent Tagalog books that I can order from here that would arrive on Thursday, so I have to make my on book. From scratch.

I welcome the challenge, but at the same time, nalulula ako. I may be in over my head here! I have custom-made a syllabus for a student before. But not from scratch. Hell, I'm no linguist! Not yet! Polyglot lang po ako.

Oh my gulay, I never thought that Tagalog had so many dialects. I know that my relatives in Cavite speak a funny Tagalog, should I teach that too? Siguro I'll stick to Leila's suggestion to keep it Manila "salitang kalye" Tagalog. Tulong!

Who Cares?

Sometimes I can't get over how shallow our world has become.

I was chatting yesterday with one of my friends over at YM.

Her: So, is the thing that's happening in Paris also making headlines there?

Now, my friend is a great gal, but she sometimes gets her prepositions wrong.

Me: What's happening in Paris? Sorry, I'm not updated, I haven't watched TV lately. You mean the elections?

Her: No, Paris Hilton!

Me: PARIS HILTON?!

Me. nobody cares!

Her: Well, they show live updates here.

(Me mentally:on Philippine TV!)

Me: Well, they show it on the news, I guess. But no live updates!

-----------------------

Quite ironic that I find this amusing, because I was once a TV junkie. I used to spend an average of four to five hours parked in front of the TV a day. I am a big fan of Buffy TVS, X Files, The Amazing Race. I still watch TV here in Germany, but to a much lesser extent. I can attribute it to the fact that TV programs here are more educational than entertaining, but honestly, I've got better things to do than to channel surf nowadays.

I'm no TV snob, I still download programs of my choice. Rome kicks ass. I bet that if I started to watch Hero, I would get into it too, like everybody else has. I'm also quite sad that Bob Barker is retiring. My Grandpa and I used to watch The Price is Right together as a ritual.

By the way, they're showing Rome dubbed in German on Pro 7 starting July 8. I think Pro7's parent company helped fund the show. Oh, and Weeds is on German TV too. I haven't seen it yet but I've heard great reviews.

Everybody Changes/Palaisipan/ Mein Lebensrätsel

A year hence, and I still find it hard to believe how radically my life has changed.
It's basically the same routine. I wake up early, I walk through the city streets, I go to work. Go home knackered. Cook dinner. Watch TV. Sleep.

Aber es ist doch anders. Ich bin in Manila letztes Jahr gelaufen. Jetzt ist die Stadt Erfurt. Es ist immer noch unvorstellbar, dass die Leute im Fernsehen Deutsch sprechen. dass ich Euros verdiene, dass dieses Land in einem Tag wunderschön warm und dann wieder 15 Grad kalt werden kann. Europa ist jetzt mein Wahrheit, nicht mehr mein Traum.

Pero malaki ang katumbas ng aking mga pangarap. Minsan pakiramdam ko naghahalo-halo na ang mga wika sa utak ko. Minsan hindi ka maintindihan ng mga tao. Bakit mo ginagawa ito? Bakit mo ginagawa iyan? Hindi talaga maiintindihan ng mga Aleman bakit mas maganda ang Maynila sa aking mga mata kaysa sa mga siyudad nila. Matindi pa rin ang pangungulila ko sa lahat ng may kinalaman sa Pinoy. Siguro dahil bihira akong makipag-halubilo sa mga Pinoy. Dito sa siyudad kung saan ako nakatira, kahit sa Jena, wala akong nakilalang Pinoy na galing Pinas. Kung dati hindi ako nanonood ng The Buzz noong nasa atin pa tayo, updated ako ngayon sa Gretchen-John Estrada issue! Kabobohan, di ba? Pero minsan mas gusto ko pang manood ng kabobohan, maibsan lang ang pamamahay ko. Kasi kahit dito ako nakatira, kahit alam ko ang wika nila, pakiramdam ko pa rin na hindi ako taga-rito.

One thing that I like in my new country is that mostly everybody devotes their brainpower to something useful, unlike in my Motherland. Everything there is bogged down by chismis and politics. I find my current work more stimulating and challenging than my previous job. I work in an international environment, with Americans, Germans, Argentinians, Canadians, South Africans, Cubans and the French, all under one roof! I like my job more than I ever thought I would. I like teaching. I discovered reserves of patience I never thought I had.

Es ist gerarde passiert, aber es wird noch Neuigkeiten in die nächste Monate. Bald werde ich in der Uni gehen. Bald wird mein Leben wieder ändern. Bald wird noch mein Lebenszustand auch anders sein. Manchmal mein Leben bewegt sich so schnell, dass ich sprachlos bin! Einem Jahr ist nicht genug alles zu schlucken. Mein Leben ist nur ständig Änderungen. Ich kann kaum atmen, vor der nächsten Kurve kommt.

I am still trying to come to grips with all the new changes, and the coming changes in my life. Part of me feels grateful that I am living a dream, a part of me wants to go back and be safe. To go to a place to where I know everything, to where I know the language and the rules of the game.

Ganoon ba talaga? Hindi ko alam kung bakit ako nanghihinayang sa nakaraan. Siguro dahil kapag tumingin ako sa harap, hindi ako sigurado kung ano ang ano ang aking magiging kinabukasan. I see a new curveball coming! Hay, heto nanaman!

Two down, one to go

You scored as English/Journalism/Comm, You should strongly consider majoring (or minoring) in Communication, English, Film, Journalism, Literature, or Writing. It is possible that the best major for you is your 2nd, 3rd, or even 5th listed category, so be sure to consider ALL majors in your OTHER high scoring categories (below). You may score high in a category you didnt think you would--it is possible that a great major for you is something you once dismissed as not for you. The right major for you will be something 1) you love and enjoy and 2) are really great at it. Consider adding a minor or double majoring to make yourself standout and to combine your interests. Please post your results in your myspace/blog/journal. French/Spanish/OtherLanguage 75% English/Journalism/Comm 75% History/Anthropology/LiberalArts 69% Psychology/Sociology 50% PoliticalScience/Philosophy 50% Education/Counseling 50% Visual&PerformingArts 44% HR/BusinessManagement 44% Biology/Chemistry/Geology 38% Nursing/AthleticTraining/Health 31% Religion/Theology 25% Physics/Engineering/Computer 19% Accounting/Finance/Marketing 13% Mathematics/Statistics 0% WHAT MAJOR IS RIGHT FOR YOU? created with QuizFarm.com

We are a Teenaged Drama Queen

This was written a few months ago by a classmate of mine from Journalism school. We have since found ourselves in very different paths. He was acquired by the Philippines' leading broadsheet, and I am working here in Germany as an English teacher, and a wannabe Master's Degree student.

Filipinos share a common unflattering perspective about our country: We're a "Banana Republic," a "Saftladen." The last time a German asked me about our country, aside from the usual that he knows Mr. so-and-so is married to a Filipina, is a documentary that aired here last October about the children scavengers in Payatas. "Is it true," asked the man in the ICE train from Mainz to Weimar, "that there are Filipino children who eat out of the garbage can?"

I had to admit the shameful truth. Yes, it does happen. But why doesn't the world care about us, about what's happening?

Well, because we don't care about it ourselves. We are so self absorbed as a nation that we are oblivious to the fact that we are the only people who can clean up this mess. Like your high school's teenage drama queen, everybody else has grown so weary of our antics that the next outburst has people rolling their eyes, asking "what next?"

The sad thing is, our government and people are so enslaved by America that we look to them for inspiration, to come up with solutions to our problems. People!! They can't even run their own government properly! America comes up with an anti-terror law, we come up with an anti-terror law. Has that brought anybody anything?

Nobody wants to hear about our sob stories. Nobody wants to talk about our problems. The world wants to hear progress, not misery. Nobody likes bad news. And our joke of an electoral system is a running gag that stopped being funny ages ago.

Everybody knows what needs to be done and how to do it. I just wonder when will we finaly get the nerve to finally act.

What's That Coming Over The Hill, Is it a Monster, Is it a MOONSTEEEERRRR!!!

Hello guys sorry if I haven't been around lately, thirteen-hour workdays can do that to ya!

First of all, this has been long overdue, my friend Jonas has completed The Challenge of the Super Duper Friends, basically featuring the American presidential aspirants as superheroes! My friend Jonas runs the Philippine office of an American storyboarding studio, and it's their first foray into animation



Secondly, check out my new links, Eurotrippen and BerlinBound, who shares my Monty Python love. I raise my hat to his British wit by dedicating my new favorite song to his blog--Okay, the band's Welsh, but that's the same thing, innit? Just joking!

Kinda the same, a bit different

There are several things here in Germany that remind me of home.

Meister Proper, uhrm, Mr. Clean,

Magnolia Nestle,

and Selecta.

However, my guilty pleasure here in Germany is Germany's Next Top Model by Heidi Klum. It's quite a discovery, and an eye-opener on how Heidi Klum is like. GNTM is ten times better than America's Next Top Model! ANTM feels like a Tyra Banks vanity project, while GNTM is actually about the girls! No super big Heidi photos adorn the set. The girls actually get sound modeling advice and critique, and the drama is kept to a minimum. The challenges don't suck, and are actually practical when applied to the modeling world. Of course, there is a resident bitch, IMG Models scout Peyman Amin, but the show doesn't descend into a condescending bitchfest, which happens often in ANTM. Unnecessary cattiness? Not here.



Heidi Klum is a great host in Project Runway, but she's waaay, waay better in German. She does the suspense thing really well in PR, but she's a master in GNTM. She's actually very witty in her native language!

During a catwalk challenge, a contestant took to the catwalk so sexily, swaying her skirt to and fro so violently with her hands that she accidentally flashed the judges. As judging time rolled around Heidi told the contestant, "You walked so beautifully, like the models would do in Valentino shows, but you showed us your underpants!"

"Did she? She didn't!" said runway trainor Bruce Darnell

"She did! She had pretty pink panties on!"

Goodness that made me laugh! If they can only remove that annoying German TV habit of cueing in inappropriate or cheesy American songs as background music...

Leipzig Memories

Ciy Museum, Leipzig

The first time I heard of Leipzig was in a Sweet Valley Twins novel when I was 11. In it, Jessica and Elizabeth's family hosted a boy from the East German Gymnastic team, who were visiting the town at that time. Yes, that's how old I am. Yes, I read Nancy Drew too. He wanted to defect to the capitalistic USA, and the twins convinced him to go back by throwing a party with German photos, music, and strudel.



What does that have to do with this post? Nothing. Just wanted to say that I went to Leipzig, and met up with That Queer Expat and B. from Eurotrippen, who, in my opinion, has one of the best expat blogs out there. Pardon Adam's open mouth, he was in the middle of saying "cheese!" It was a lovely, sunny spring day, a perfect day to wander around Germany's medieval streets.

Leipzig is a great city to visit! The shopping's amazing, and it makes me wish that I had two cents to rub together so I can buy a 30 euro dress without feeling guilty. I've just realized how much I miss living in a big city, and how stylish city people should actually look. I've realized how frumpy I've become since moving to university town Jena. Now that I live in Erfurt, I see everyday how much I badly need to reverse the fug.

P.S.

I kinda feel sorry for this guy!

Our New Life

We've spent the last two weeks moving in and trying to sort out our life here. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, so I'll let the video do the talking. Enjoy!

All the Little Things That They Do

Every culture has its own quirks, and even the level-headed, "rational" Europeans have their own weird habits that I can never get over. Here's my top five list.

1. THEY EAT RAW MEAT The first time I landed in Germany I was horrified to discover that they like to put raw ground meat seasoned with onions, pepper and salt on bread, a dish they call "Gehacktes."

"But it's just like sushi!"

I can't just imagine myself eating raw meat from a warm-blooded mammal, sorry.

2. "Geh nicht drausend mit nassen Haaren! Du wirst dich erkälten!" (Don't go out with wet hair, you'll catch a cold!) Similar to the Filipino concept of "hamog." People should either blow-dry their hair, or if they can't help it, put a hat on before braving the elements.

The last time I heard, the cold was caused by a virus.

3. "Let's open the windows for oxygen!" Even in the coldest of winters, they open the windows for a few minutes to reportedly get rid of the "stuffy air" in the room. It's understandable, since most German houses are poorly ventilated due to the cold weather, encouraging the growth of the dreaded house mold.

4. And the open windows policy apply to bedrooms, too. The common over-engineered German window can be opened all the way, or only slightly ajar at the top. Neat. But the typical German has one quirk: He has to leave the bedroom windows half-open all the time for "fresh air" to circulate in the bedroom. Naturally, this leaves bedroom temperatures freezing. As Martin, a German friend of ours puts it, "Germans have no sex lives because they keep their bedrooms ice-cold."

Germans buy potatoes in sacks, like we do rice in the Philippines. Potatoes have to be kept in the coldest spot in the house. Three guesses where MIL keeps her potatoes.

5. Mayo with French Fries, Mustard with Wurst. I have adopted this quirk wholeheartedly. I take it that this is a European thing. Don't put Ketchup on your Fries or on your Wurst; it's a dead giveaway that you're not a local. As I slathered my Thüringer Bratwurst with ketchup, the vendor at the stand I frequent gave me this horrified look and jokingly teased, "but ketchup is only for kids!"

And I like the mustard here. It's bitter-spicy (not hot), much unlike the radioactive yellow "mustard" that they sell back home.

Geschafft!

I did it! I passed my German language test with flying colors! I got a 5 (the perfect score!) for the listening and Reading parts of the test, a 3 at the written part (Scheiße!) and a 4 at the oral part!

All I have to do is to convince a university that a three ain't that bad (remember I need a 4 out of 4 for my course!) since I got a 5, twice! Three means I still passed the test.

Ich habe es in einem Jahr geschafft! Letztes Jahr (Jan 2006) konnte ich nur "Alter Schweder," "Guten Tag," und "Gesundheit" sagen! Jetzt kann ich Deutsch ganz offiziell! Es hat viele Tränen gebraucht, aber es hat sich gelohnt.

Hooray!

We are finally moving! Found an apartment, and we're moving to Erfurt! By the end of the month! Yay!

I am very, very happy to be moving out, and I am happy to be out of reach from my MIL. She is quite sad, and has taken to hugging me and saying, "Everybody wants to leave me. You too?"

While I am sad as well, I am actually more excited at the fact that I'll be independent in a new city, and happy to be away from her meddlesome and annoying ways.

She always prides herself as a really good cook, and admittedly, she does cook well. She loves making traditional German dishes, and asks me to watch while making them. "Das ist wie meine Oma das gemacht hat." (That's how my Grandma used to make it.) Since traditional German cooking is rich in meat, potatoes, and fat, a normal meal in the household usually drips in grease and butter. Even her vegetables are marinated in heavy sauces or butter. Hearty German dishes literally are not for the faint of heart! Then she complains the next day at how big she's become.

I think I have gotten along with her for the past eight months by playing the compliant Asian. Though Thomas says that the following statements are not completely true, I think that I never complained. I do stuff around the household the way she wants them done to avoid arguments. I never answer back. I understand that because Thomas was not here to explain my behavior, and that because I can't express myself in German as well as I can in English.

I patiently waited for the day that Thomas would be done with school so we could move out of this backwater city. It is beautiful, yes, but a tad slow for my taste.

She, in turn, treats me like the provincial innocent. That was ok, because in some respects, I was. But sometimes it gets too much!

Everytime I cook something Filipino or Asian, she always has to meddle with how I should do it. Mas marunong pa siya sa akin, eh sino ba ang Pinoy dito? I tell her that I want to recreate the taste of my childhood, but she insists that her cooking methods are better than mine! She always meddles in my cooking. She doesn't want anybody to meddle with her cooking but she insists on meddling with mine, all because I sometimes cook with a recipe in hand!

Like during Filipino Food night. She insisted that I flood the freaking wok with cooking oil as I made Lumpiang Shanghai (spring rolls) so we can fry a lot in a short amount of time. People normally use up to three tablespoons of oil when frying spring rolls.

I didn't use water or egg yolk to bind the end of the wrapper because it doesn't work. The spring roll wrappers sold here are too thick, they break because of the moisture. So I let it be. Barbara told me, that won't work. But I've done it before, and it does.

So as I cook the Spring roll in the vat of oil, the wrappers ballooned and floated to the surface. She exclaimed "Scheiße, I told you so! You should've used egg!" in front of everybody! Carola, the other cooking host said "Shh, don't fight here!" I was steaming mad at Barbara, and gave her dagger looks. Thomas just ladled out the excess oil in another bowl and told me, "See, I told you, you shouldn't listen too much to my mother!"

Well, it was my fault because I was too much of a pushover. But in everyday life she is just the same as well. Typical German who wants to control everything. So anyway, I promised to cook these past few days as a thank you for allowing me to stay in her house.

Last night I made Tortang Talong (Eggplant Omelet). To remove the skin while achieving the burnt eggplant flavor, I put the eggplant over her ceramic hot plate stove, a lot safer than the Filipino method of grilling it on fire. She took a look at what I did, and said "Scheiße, what you're doing will make the stove dirty! I think you should put it in the oven instead."

Since it was her stove, I had no choice but to put it in the oven. It works just the same, but it didn't taste the same. Then as I fried the omelet on a skillet, she noted, "Cooking one eggplant at a time is so inefficient. Why don't you put everything in the oven? You can cook three to four eggplants in one go!"

Grr grr and more grrr!!!! Outside I was all calm, but deep inside I wanted to scream! "Hey, who is the Filipina here? You and your pseudo-Asian dishes are fine, but when I cook Filipino, then I cook Filipino! If I wanted to make baked eggplant omelet, then I would've done so!"


I made Maja Blanca for dessert, from scratch! I literally scraped hard coconut meat out of a shell to make coconut milk! She asked where I put the water, and I replied that I threw it away. She went, "Scheiße, why did you throw that away? It was good for drinking! We drank that in Cuba."

I couldn't take it anymore, so I made Thomas explain to her that coconut juice is only good when it comes from a YOUNG coconut. Old Coconut juice tastes yucky. Because he was in Southeast Asia for a year, he knew that.

I know she just means well, but I can't take all this meddling! I will be glad to have a kitchen I can call my own!

Expat Meme

From Heidelbergerin


5) Name five things you love in your new country:

1. Being able to wear what I want/ Fashion. Love the clothes!

2. To be able to walk around/bike around without being assaulted by pollution, noise, and traffic

3. The honesty of the people

4. Things get delivered/done when and as promised.

5. The Autobahn! Cheese! Bread! Cold cuts!

4) Name four things that you miss from your native country:

1. Malls! Mall of Asia, Megamall, Glorietta, Greenbelt.

2. People are friendlier in the Philippines.

3. Shops are open from 10 am to 10 pm, even on a Sunday!/Midnight Madness sales/Really cheap Chinese shit. There's also a lot of Chinese crap here but they're more expensive.

4. Filipino culture/Filipino Christmas/Filipino Food/Filipino weather/Filipino beaches/My Makati life/My family

3) Name three things that annoy you a bit (or much) in your new country:

1. Everything is so expensive, double or triple the price compared to the Philippines

2. The obsession over privacy. I understand it, but sometimes it gets too much. Being a Filipino, I have a much looser sense of personal space. When I first got here, I had to ask Barb's permission to enter her living room (because it was "her" living room)

3. Power-tripping inflexible government workers.

2) Name two things that surprise you (or surprised you in the beginning) in your new country:

1. They eat raw pork!!!!

2. They allow their children to roll around in the dirt! And clean them up later when they're really, really filthy. Filipino mothers watch over their children like hawks. Kids can't play outside unless their backs are caked with baby powder, with a small towel placed under the backside of their shirts. Pag pawis na, hala! Habol! May dala nang basang bimpo at kailangang punasan ang mukha!

1) Name one thing that you would miss terribly in your new country, if you had to leave it.

1. The lack of social hierarchies. Angela Merkel and the jobless single mother have equal rights.

I would encourage anybody living abroad to answer! What do you like/dislike about your new country?

Broken Record

A little Pictionary of my new life.



I work here.



Fellow teachers Mary-Louise (Canada) and Jeff (US)

Jeff and I got to talking yesterday, and asked a question that I've heard a thousand times.

"How is it that you speak with an American accent?"

People who know me personally know that I speak with an American accent. I sound like a broken record, as I've told the story a million times already, to schoolmates, officemates, and most of my co-teachers. I was raised by my grandparents, who were born during the American occupation and educated under the American educational system. They decided to create an English-speaking household. It isn't hard, I tell them. I was raised on a diet of Matlock, Steve Allen, McGyver, and Sesame Street. It is possible to raise an American-speaking kid in the islands.

I didn't learn my native language, Tagalog, until I was three, when I had to go to school. That resulted in 11 years of hell, when kids picked on me because I spoke English well.

Mary-Louise joins in, "Hey I had a friend whose parents were Polish immigrants. They speak Polish at home, and she didn't learn English until she had to go to school."

"That's just what she said!", Jeff exclaimed. "See, I wonder what would happen if I marry a German. I speak German as well, and I want to know how it would be like for my kid if we decide to use English at home."

I was reminded of a question that has been floating in my head for some time. I speak German, English and Tagalog. I would love it if my kid would be able to do the same. However, I'm scared that I would overwhelm my kid. I could speak Tagalog exclusively to my future children, while Thomas could speak English, even if my English is better than his. Our children could pick up German in school, right?

A little note on trilingualism: Thomas' best friend is half-Greek, half-German, and was born in America. His dad, a university professor, spent a year there on a PhD grant. He holds all three nationalities (shh, don't tell anyone!). He speaks all three languages in varying degrees of fluency. However, he didn't start speaking until he was three!

At first his mom spoke to him in Greek, his dad in German, and both occasionally spoke to him in English. However, because he didn't utter a word in any discernable language, they decided to raise him in one language: German. Then he started to talk.

Because of his multi-lingual upbringing, he is able to pick up languages quickly. He now speaks Spanish as well. I noticed that I share this trait. German is a difficult language, but my progress is better than most of my classmates, who were raised speaking only one language.

I can't expect my children to have the same capabilities as I do. Will I overwhelm my future children if I try to raise them in three languages? Will it work?

Meanwhile, I hope that I still have enough room in my head for Spanish. Thomas and I plan to move to Chile after five years to learn the language. Since Tagalog has a lot of Spanish in it, I hope I can learn it quickly. That's another challenge for my future kid!

Biyenan Blues

Pasensya na kung Tagalugin ko yung post na ito. Mahirap na, baka mabasa ng mga Aleman! Alam kong binabasa ako ng pinsan ni Thomas! Rant lang ako ng konti dito sa blog ko ha, pasensya na.

Hay, naku, wish ko lang makapag-ipon na kami ng pera para maka-alis na kami dito. Don't get me wrong, magkasundo kami ng biyenan kong hilaw, pero minsan di ko siya ma-take na kasama sa bahay. Kaka-graduate lang ni Thomas nitong March, kaya ayun, dito kami pareho sa Jena naka-tengga. May trabaho na siya, kaso laging nau-urong yung starting date ng trabaho, freelance consultancy firm ang pinasok niya eh.

Kaso nga lang, parang aso at pusa magaway ang mag-ina. Daig pa ang mag-asawa! Kaugali kasi ni Thomas yun ex niya. Si Barbara, pagdating sa akin, very patient. Hindi ko alam kung bakit. Kasi foreigner ako? Kasi lagi ko siyang sinusunod kahit alam kong wala siya sa katwiran? Kasi ako yun taga-linis at taga-laba at taga-luto sa mga araw na depressed siya?

Ako naman, diskarteng close. Ngiti lang, minsan kahit inis na. Kailangang pakisamahan eh. Magiging biyenan ko din yan someday. Namana ni Thomas yung ugaling nagmamarunong lagi sa Nanay niya, alam ko yun. Ugali ng ex + pagmamarunong=recipe for disaster!

Nakatambak noong Sunday yung mga gamit ni Thomas from Deggendorf sa home-office niya, hindi naman ginagamit yung opisina. Alisin daw, so inalis. May isang rung sa shelf na walang laman, so naglagay siya ng bag doon.

Ito namang si Barb, nagfreak-out! Alisin daw yung gamit niya, opisina daw niya yun. Ayaw alisin ni Thomas. Ano ba naman yung iisang part ng shelf, di ba? Tapos ayan na, as in she went apeshit. Talagang namula sa galit! Iyak ng iyak sa inis. Ewan ko ba, menopause lang kaya 'to? Tapos nun, sorry ng sorry, sabay halik sa amin. Eh hello di naman ako kasama sa away.

Yan lang ang latest sa mga kaganapan sa bahay. Basta ako, ewan, parang pahirap na pahirap para sa akin na pakisamahan siya. Sabi niya, aalis daw siya papuntang Greece o Spain for the month. Di naman umalis. Haay basta sabi ko sa kanya alis na kami dito by the end of the month. Sana kumita ako ng more than 800 euros this month para makapag-rent kami ng bahay.

Hay naku, nahahawa na yata ako sa negativity niya at ang vibe ng bahay niya. I know that I have to get away from here as soon as possible.