Spliff from the Joint

Warning: Adult Content

Hi, I am Arashi, and I am an occasional pot smoker. A social smoker. I don't go out and look for it, but when the opportunity arises, why not?

I may not be a pothead, but I have noticed a difference in the way We (the Filipinos and Americans) and They (Europeans) smoke a joint. The Filipinos have access to home-grown quality grass, super cheap. If you buy directly from the source (Mountain Province), you could get 200 grams for 5 euros. Hash, 10 euros for ten grams. So we tend to be wasteful with our joints. We enjoy unadulterated, rolling-stick full joints. Bursting at the seams.

In Europe, I noticed that people like to smoke spliffs. When I told my husband that we Filipinos smoke joints pure, he looked at me as if I were an alien and exclaimed, "Do you want me to die?" and indeed, I think he would have. I remember this time when I had to drag him 100 meters to our tent when he passed out after smoking a spliff. People, a spliff.

When I told a friend in Barcelona that Filipinos smoke joints, and a Canadian in the group agreed, saying that in Canada, we only smoke joints, he looked at me as if I were an alien and exclaimed, "That's so strong! I would die if I smoke one!"

Look, to be quite honest, the way one smokes a joint is the way one enjoys wine. I take a drag, hold it in my lungs, and exhale. Marijuana smoke is smooth, and holding it in my lungs is easy.

Mixing a joint with tobacco makes it taste nasty, and cigarette smoke to me is really abrasive. I try to hold it in but the tobacco smoke makes my throat itch and my lungs ache and I fall into a coughing fit because I can't hold it in. It really tastes, and is disgusting.

Even the way Europeans mix their joints remind me how stingy they can be. Some spliffs I have smoked here are more tobacco than joint. It may also have something to do with the fact that pot is more expensive in Europe. Weird, since Europeans are usually more open to admitting that they have tried pot than Americans or Filipinos.You would think that with that openness,the price of Marijuana would drop.

And you know what the other weird thing is? I am not a cigarette smoker. I hate the smell and the taste. Nor have I taken other drugs, like meth or coke. There goes the "Gateway Drug" theory.

The Land of Ice and Snow

I did a bit of traveling this week. Thomas and I were snowed in in Andermatt, Switzerland, as Mother Nature dumped 70 centimeters, or almost three feet of snow in that town. A lot of people hiked up the next day to ski or snoword on freshly laid snow, as winter season hasn't officially begun yet. It was my first time to see snow covered mountains, so blinding that I thought I must have been a vampire in my past life. It was enough to give me a headache. For those wondering why, it doesn't snow where I come from. The first time I experienced snowfall was 2006.

Back. Drudge. Work. So help me God. I need a drink.

Martyr

Women, lease enlighten why do we play martyr and guilt-trip other people?

Why do we valiantly scrub the floors and overload ourselves with housework in the valiant hopes that one day, someone will recognize our efforts?

What do we women actually want to achieve by playing martyr?

It just made me hate my mother more. I don't do it myself. When my husband complains that a corner is dusty even if I cleaned it yesterday, I tell him to clean it himself if he is so displeased with it.

Really, we womanfolk should stop doing this woe is me schtick. It doesn't work. It antagonizes the people around us. Let us get our collective stick out, and try to be less anal about things.

Breathe. Take a break. Go to the spa or something. Don't make other people feel guilty, don't make other people resent you, because you want to be deified.

Sie Liebt Dich

I was at Jeweled Concrete's blog when I chanced upon a clip of the Beatles, IN GERMAN! I knew that they spent time in Hamburg, but that they sang in German? Sau cool!

Hier sind die Beatles, mit Sie Liebt Dich. Für alle Leute, die gerarde Deutsch lernen.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

I started playing Ultimate Disc (or Frisbee) in Erfurt about a couple of months ago. A group of friends and I were playing an easy version of Ultimate when a real Ultimate team also started playing. We played alongside each other, and my P.E. hating self decided that Frisbee may not be a bad thing after all.

I played my last game with the Patatas Bravas/Crema Catalanas today. Who are they? They are one of the best Ultimate Disc teams in Spain. The photo was taken today, November 16, at the beach. And what on earth are we still doing at the beach in November? Playing frisbee, that's what. It's still warm enough to play frisbee at the beach. Then I go back to cold Erfurt while I bundle up to play Ultimate in the freezing cold. I will miss Barcelona, but they haven't seen the last of me yet!

The Battle Within

This article from the Singapore Strait Times paints a pretty accurate picture of the state of the Philippines and the effects of the Church's influence over my country. As a conflicted Catholic, I understand the reluctance, even opposition, of people to pass a law that is clearly, sorely needed in an impoverished third world nation. To people from the West, what is taking place in the Philippines is ridiculous considering we are in 2008. For Filipinos, this bill is akin to giving women the vote in the United States.

For the Filipino middle class, family planning and contraception is a quiet, personal decision undertaken by many married women. For the poor, it is a question of resources. In a country where many people eat once a day, the cheapest 30 peso pack of pills is out of the question. While the middle class have the luxury to flout the Church's stand on Family Planning, the poor who depend on free social services can't.

If you wonder how can the Catholic Church have such a far-reaching influence over the government, take this social mindset into account. For the majority of Filipinos, the question whether or not you believe in God is moot. The proper question to ask is: What religion do you have? Are you Born Again Christian? Protestant? Catholic? Clearly, religion is a major force in the lives of the people. People vote for whom the Church says.

Since there is no divorce and no abortion, the question of whether or not to end an unwanted pregnancy or an unhappy marriage is also moot. People who can no longer stand each other get an annullment, if they can afford it. For those who can't, informal, unrecognized separation is the answer.

I was born Catholic. I still officially am. But I have always struggled with my faith over the years because of the iniquities inflicted by the Church on people. I have seen the Church do both good and bad. It is not a bad Church, but of course I would be stupid to believe that they don't have an agenda. I believe that if people could only see how economic prosperity has emasculated the Catholic Church in the West, the battle for Contraception in the Philippines would have been over a long time ago. As in many Latin American countries, a church needs poverty and strife to exist.

Intellectually, I believe in the right to family planning. As a Catholic, I feel conflicted, especially because of old prejudices I had growing up. I have seen my evolution as a person over the years, but I cannot erase 15 years of Catholic schooling. I went to a Catholic school and a Catholic university. I had been taught natural family planning methods, that the Philippines is not overpopulated, that it has a "population displacement" problem. That I could get pregnant in a swimming pool if a boy ejaculated in it. That I should remain chaste until marriage.

I would be a hypocrite if I said that I was an ideal Catholic. I am not. I never have been, because I never believed in remaining chaste. However, I would be lying if I said that I was never affected by the things that the nuns taught me in school. I only felt confident enough to use the pill two years ago, after being assured by my German gynecologist that I will not be rendered infertile by it.

My story is reflected by most of the Filipino middle class. Most of us went to private Catholic schools. Most of us were told that we could get pregnant in swimming pools by nuns. And most of us, even though we know that the Catholic Church is spreading bull, are too weak to resist pressure from our families to be good Catholics and sign that little paper on the Church door against the Population Bill.

So for the people who are fighting for that the Family Planning Bill in the Philippines, I believe that lobbying for the bill in Congress is just one part of the war. They also have to convince the middle class that ousted Erap that the Population Bill is in the country's economic best interest. It is an intellectual and spiritual battle, which is unfortunatley a battle fought within.

Homeland vs. Motherland: Chocolate a la Taza

Chocolate is one of my most favorite things on earth.

When I was a child, I would eat Milo or Ovaltine straight from the can, and consume ten packs of Horlicks (meron pa ba nun?) in one sitting. My Grandmother would bring home tableas of chocolate, flat and round chocolate tablets an inch thick, stacked and rolled into paper like coins, from Bicol, where she went every year to join the Peñafrancia festival. She would brew the chocolate in milk or coconut milk, to make a thick soup known in the Philippines as tsokolate-eh, or would add rice to make champurrado.

I remember the rich, nutty, chocolate-y taste of the tsokolate-eh. Sometimes, I would forego the dissolving in water and just eat the tableas raw (read: papak), munching down on the tableas. Sometimes, if I decided that I was a princess that day, I would ask my Grandma to take out the good china from the cabinet. I had a special glazed demitasse set, gilded at the rim and painted with faded purple on the outside. My grandma said that it was my special cup for special occasions.

Fast forward twenty or so years later, I am in Spain after a lifetime of dreaming. I seek out tsokolate-eh, knowing that the Spanish have their version too, called Chocolate a la Taza. It is not the Tsokolate-eh of my childhood, but it is similar. A thick chocolatey liquid, although the Spanish blend is much smoother and milkier than the Filipino blend. The nuttiness in the flavor doesn't come from Coconut milk or from the crude quality of Filipino chocolate, but from the toasted flour that they add to the brew to thicken it. And instead of biscocho, I dunked in churros in my chocolate. It is not earthy like Filipino tsokolate-eh, and I realize that comparison is futile, as they are two different genus of the same species.

VERDICT: It's a tie! I like the both. Yay to chocolate!

Estoy harta de español

Have you ever heard of the term language saturation? Guess where I am? I am not complaining, it's just that my brain feels very, so very tired and heavy...

Odio el subjuntivo. ¿Porque existe?

Homeland vs. Motherland: Filipinos

Around the world, Filipinos are known to be a smiling, friendly people. Not afraid of working overtime, asking for even longer hours, working in cramped, small places, not heeding the pains in their back as long as Junior gets a new pair of shoes for graduation.



In Spain, Filipinos are also a kind of cookie, and there is a pervading myth that these cookies originated from the Philippines, hence the name. I don't remember seeing these cookies back home, but I do remember a kind of galletas that has a hole in the middle.

Many people find it offensive that there is a chocolate-covered cookie named after us, saying that this is racist. I don't see this racist. Then maybe the Dutch should howl in protest over the connotations of "Dutch treat," or the Danish asking that the pastries be re-named. Or that the French would have heaved a sigh of relief after the Americans started asking McDonalds for "Freedom Fries." Besides, there are also white chocolate covered Filipinos,how is that representative of us? So c'mon, don't be so sensitive. It's just a cookie.

Verdict: "Matam'is ya'an!" for the Filipinos the people! Not the cookie! Really, the cookies are so dry that I could not enjoy the chocolate coating.

Be You.

"It cost me a lot to be authentic. . . Because a woman is more authentic the more she looks like what she has dreamed for herself."
--Agrado, Todo Sobre Mi Madre

I have a pretty manic personality, and I have really no control over what to fixate upon. I don't know why I like something, and when I do, I just go crazy with it. I think it. I eat it. I breathe it.

Sometimes this mania will last for years. It will die out just as suddenly it started, and no amount of force on my part can make me want to revisit my manias. Sometimes it stays with me. Some manias I have had when I was 16 or 17 are still with me to this day.

I have always had geeky interests. When I was 8 or 9, The Real Ghostbusters (the cartoon) was on air, and I would never miss an episode, ever. I would park myself in front of our TV, and I would write down which ghost appeared on what day on one of my school notebooks. When I was 14, I wrote fan mail and poems to Gillian Anderson and
David Duchovny.

I have always been interested in traveling to other places, even when I was a kid. I just didn't really have the opportunity to visit other countries, but I would say that I knew Manila well by the time I was 10. My Grandma took me with her on her trips whenever she could, and she had itchy feet. I guess I caught her bug, and I wanted to travel the Philippines, too.

But what really made me dream, and dream big, was a TV show on the Discovery Channel called Travelers. I was 16, about the time my parents decided to subscribe cable TV. I watched it whenever I could. The show revolved around six Americans who visited obscure festivals around the world. I loved it so much that I also had a notebook wherein I wrote down the country and city they went to, date of airing, hosts present. This show made me dream that someday, I would go and see the Boi Bumba festival. How do I get there? How can I be a part of it? It was one of the reasons why I went to Journ School in college, because I knew I had a gift for communication, and journalists go places, right?

My parents had other ideas for me. You want to travel? Go be a stewardess.

This short-sightedness frustrated me for so long. When I got my degree, I wanted to embark on my great Philippine adventure. I wanted to travel the width and breadth of my country, but my parents forbade me. Too dangerous, they said. I listened to them, and stayed put. This is not strange in the Philippines, as my 25 year old brother still lives at home and gets "Wer r u?" text messages from my mother at 12 midnight.

I slugged away at my job, got a boyfriend, split up, ended up depressed, and became obsessed with anime, eventually cosplay. It was the only thing that made me smile at the time. I would sit and watch anime an average of 6 hours a day. I was around 22 or 23.

Then I met Thomas.

He gave me the courage to actually use all the money I have saved all these years at the bank and with him, I discovered the Philippines. I had also seen parts of the Philippines with my Grandma, and we embarked on our great adventure together in 2004. But with Thomas, I had the courage to visit unknown places, not just places where we knew people. Basically, he gave me the courage to continue something that my Grandma started.

And now I am here in Barcelona and learning Spanish! I still can't believe it, and I am eternally grateful for having this opportunity, and the opportunity to become my real self: A citizen of the world.

Enlighten Me, Please

For anybody out there who knows Latins or Spanish guys: Is it just me, or do they think with their penises 100% of the time? Or is the word "intercambio" (language exchange or tandem in German), actually a ruse used by men to look for dates, girlfriends, and sex partners?

Doing this intercambio thing in Barcelona almost has a feel of a blind date. Really, looking for the perfect "language level" match, anxiety whether you guys would get along, and the whole "did he/she like me?" question.

I mean, two guys I'm doing intercambio with think that I am into them. Yuck and double yuck. They interpreted completely innocuous things I've done as attempts to seduce them.

Upside is, I am learning the best places to go to here. And my Spanish is getting better.

Where the Boys Are

One of my complaints in Barcelona is that I am always surrounded by pretty girls, but the good looking guys seem to be a rare species in this jungle.

I found out where ther natural habitat was last night when I went to a club here in Barcelona. It seems that the male population is nocturnal, and the cutest guys come out in droves in these clubs.

So a group of female acquaintances and I were in this club, and I observed that the men began to pick off the girls one by one. They first picked out the prettiest girls in the group using the normal pick up cues: Lighting up a cigarette, bumping into her "accidentally" on the crowded dance floor. The next to be picked off were the girls who looked "game," girls who seemed up for anything and would be fun to hang out with. Next came the slutty-looking girls. If you were not picked up by the end of the night, woe is you. If anything, these Spanish guys are quick. By the end of the night , my companions were in some dark corner of the club necking with one of the boys.

I didn't really like electronic music, so I would switch between the large dance floor and the smaller area upstairs that played indie and retro music. A guy kept stealing glances at me while I was dancing, and I noticed him from the corner of my eye. I wasn't really thinking about flirting with him or anything, but he came up to me and asked my name.

"Arashi."
"Arthur."

And we attempted to make small talk in between lulls in the songs. It was just too loud, so he invited me to go outside to grab some air. I wanted out of the smoky bar, so I said yes, and he took me by the hand and made our way out of the club.

Once outside, he in his broken English tried to pull me to the bushes in front of an abandoned building outside the club. Uh-oh. These hipsters don't waste time, do they? I'll be damned if I would let another 30 year old dirty boy fuck me behind the fucking bushes. What am I, 19? How do I get out of this without him getting violent? So I took a risk, and kissed him.

"I'm sorry, but I am married." as I came up for air. I held up my right hand, hoping he wouldn't question the position of the ring. But hey, if he didn't eve check that I had a ring, how could he notice even that?

"Ok, ok. That's ok." He continued to kiss me and still tried to lead me to the bushes. Fuck. Persistent, and he doesn't even care.

We kissed again, and I was reminded why I stopped dating smokers after my first boyfriend. But he does kiss nice.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I said, and pulled away and headed back to the club.

"Yeah...." he said sheepishly. Dejected, he called out "I really like your shirt," pointing to my t-shirt that had a Clockwork Orange logo on it.

Thanks.

I grabbed my stuff, looked for my missing friends, didn't find them, and decided to go home alone. On the way out the bouncer commented, "Nice film," pointing to my shirt.

"Yeah, read the book, hadn't seen the film."

The Filipinization of Spanish

Despite the pendantic nature of this piece, I still find the differences between Spanish and Filipino unendingly fascinating.

There are some words in Filipino that I never knew were Spanish, given that they could pass off as Malay or Indonesian.

For example, who knew that the Tagalog word KALBO was Spanish? Did you? Nitso?

And I am also amazed that much of the Spanish-derived words used in Tagalog are actually Latin American. We use esposo rather than marido. They say cacahuete here but we say Mani. Cucharita instead of cuchadita.

But on the other hand, we do say Kotse instead of Carro.

There are other words that have changed meaning over the years. The name Casillas would evoke laughter or a nguso to the restroom, but here it has a more innocuous meaning: the little squares that you see in your notebook or crossword puzzle. Averia implies a mechanical problem, but is used to mean all sorts of troubles in the Philippines. Sencillio means easy. In Cebu, sincillio means small change, coins. Don't even get me started on the word coño. Am I even allowed to say that?

And there are other words that are downright bizzare, and I don't even know how the Spanish word for message, recado, became the Tagalog word for ingredients!

There are other words that seem spanish but aren't,like Candila.

If you can think of any other words, just holler. I would like to extend this list!

Wake Up and Smell the Indifference

Before you read this post, I would like you to take time to read this from Howie Severino's blog. Many Americans don't know about the Filipino-American war, how America perfected Vietnam and Iraq in the Philippines.

What really gets me is a commenter on this thread who asked.

"i'm glad to hear that obama won in the elections because it will really bring change. but i wonder kung ano ang impact nito sa ating mga Filipino..."

You know, before I left the Philippines, I had a not so nice impression of Americans. Americans are idolized and treated like kings in the country, much to the consternation of other nationalities. Everytime Thomas walks around the Philippines, he is greeted everywhere by "hey joe!" or "Kano!" which is short for Americano. I had a job interview once where the American interviewer talked down to me, and I had another acquaintance who thought I wanted to sleep with him just because I am Filipina, and all Filipinas wanted to marry a Joe, right?

When you are Filipino living in the Philippines and has a myopic view of the world, meaning that the world you live in revolves around the P.I. (as servicemen call the Philippines) and the USA, you think that wow, we are so important in the world.

Please, I hope that Filipinos wake up to the reality that America doesn't give a fuck about us. They don't care. Americans don't know that Guantanamo, Guam, and the Philippines are all tied to the war of 1896. We are never going to become the 51st State of America. Americans don't even know that we speak English in the Philippines! I, for one, am tired of having to explain my not-quite-so American accent and how I got it. "Wow, your English is so good!" Americans would say.

Give up the ghost, Filipinos. I don't agree with the Socialists in the Philippines, but the term "Tuta ng Kano" (America's Puppy) is a good adjective to describe the Philippine government. Look, my grandad also believed that the Philippines should have been a state. But you know what? They never wanted us to be a state. They just wanted (and want) our gold and copper, without having to cower behind environmental watchdogs. To Canadians, google Marinduque Mining Disaster if you don't know what I am talking about.

And this article just to see how sad and desperate we look, like a lunatic bride chasing after George Clooney. Please President Arroyo, I know you went to Georgetown with Bill Clinton, but we shouldn't have any illusions that America will take care of our problems. Please, let us grow a spine and think of ourselves first. America's President will of course take care of Americans first. We should do the same.

Our history of colonialism has made us unable to self-govern. This is not a rant against Americans. They are at a high point in their history, and I congratulate them for achieving the unimaginable 40 years ago. This is an appeal to the Filipinos to wake up and think for ourselves.

Thank God.

Glad to see the end of idiocy. That was a really vicious and nasty campaign.

Move on, nothing to see here.

What Turns You On?

I saw this video on Deusexmalcontent and I have discovered a newfound love for Rilo Kiley. By jove, is this song and video hypnotic! And Giovanni Ribisi! I always thought of Ribisi as the guy who plays freaks or sidekicks in movies, a character actor type, never the leading man. But in this video he looks sooooo sexy and smoldering that I think I have another actor crush aside from Daniel Brühl.

I mean look at his eyes! And the nape!

Yes, his nape.

Filipinos have a weird thing for intimate and normally unseen body parts. I once spoke to a taxi driver in Manila who had a thing for Mexican singer/actress Thalia's armpits (In his words, "they are so smooth and white!"). Jose Rizal (our national hero)in his novel Noli Me Tangere spoke of Cris Ibarra's fondness for Maria Clara's "pearly white nape" in 1886.

And there's a shot in the video that focuses on his nape and I swore I melted. You see, napes are not created equal. His nape was so...delicate yet manly, you know? I mean, I would get turned-off with handsome men who have ugly napes. I don't know what makes me like napes. It's the slope of it, and how the hairline begins at the back. Sometimes when I am walking down some street and a guy has his back turned to me and he has this most wonderful nape that I really bite the inside of my cheek to resist the urge to go up to him and kiss his nape.

And there's Tide. The laundry detergent.

It's one of the things I miss about the Philippines. The smell of Tide laundry soap. Sure, we have Ariel back home as well, but I have this weird thing about smell. The reason why I never dated smokers (well, except for my first boyfriend) was because I was very particular about how guys smelled. I once turned down a guy because of how he smelled. He didn't stink, it's just that he smelled like syrupy sweet cough syrup. Gosh, I once acted for a theater troupe composed of Catholic seminarians (!) and I couldn't get enough of one actor. He wasn't my type but he smelled so gorgeously of Tide and had an amazing nape and I kept following him around only from behind, of course, because I loved how he smelled. And his nape.

So here I am playing this song and video over and over again because I love the song, I love the video, and I love Giovanni Ribisi's nape. Thank You.

Salon de Manga Barcelona

Just came back from Salon de Manga XIV and those two above just won the Cosplay Skit competition, the guys who will represent Spain in the World Cosplay Championships 2009 in Nagoya, Japan.

I can't help but think, wow, the Philippine cosplay community hasn't even sent any reps to the World Cosplay Championships. We can do so well, so much better than a lot of the acts that I saw. And Japan is so close!

A cosplay insider told me that it was only this year that Japan started accepting applications from countries instead of inviting countries to participate. The Philippines has a very well-developed and flourishing cosplay community, it's about time they recognized the Philippines!

Let's Do The Time Warp Again!

Please please please, can I live here? Like, really? I am having so much fun and indulge in my geeky costuming nature here. *sigh* ayaw ni Thomas but there has got to be a way!

I had the most fun I have had in the last two years I've spent in Europe last night, at the Halloween screening of the Rocky Horror Picture show of the RHPS club. It's the first time in years that I joined a cosplay contest as Dita Von Teese (haha, well, if she were Asian). I loved the atmosphere, so unlike the competitive and insecure cosplay scene in Manila. Last night people talked back to the screen, recited lines, threw rice and confetti, and basically made RHPS an interactive experience! So goofy! It was like watching a movie in your friend's den, just that it filled the whole theatre. Everytime Janet showed up on screen, the crowd chanted ¡Zorra! (Bitch) and Brad ¡Gillipollas! (Asshole). God, I was orgasming geek last night as people came up with witty one liners in Spanish at the screen, the kind that someone came up two years ago and everybody would repeat hereonafter.

The winner of the cosplay contest was a woman with a pet rat and a gun. I think she's Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, but I am not sure. Help?