Freeze Dried Space Ice Cream

"Amazingly, the ice cream sandwich looks and tastes like the original. As you eat the sandwich, your mouth rehydrates the ice cream, restoring it to its original state."

NOT. From the Atomic Testing Museum, one of the most interesting museums I've been in a while. Adam, you'll love it. The museum will speak to anyone who grew up during the Cold War. Now I'm thinking of giving my extra pack either as a prize, or as a moving away present.

America, Please Explain

There are certain things in life that I take for granted, things that I grew up with, and things that make sense in context of the environment in which I live in. When I moved to Germany, things were, of course, different. So I reverted into a three year old and incessantly asked--why?

Now the things that I have seen here and the things I want to ask of you, my American readers, are specific to the West Coast/Vegas. Now I ask, why?

--are there so many freeways here? Seriously, highway built upon highway. And more highways, even to just get to the next town. Manila has them out of necessity. I have seen exactly one flyover in Germany, and that is in Berlin.

--are you so wasteful on gas and drive everywhere? Even in San Francisco, which has good public transport infrastructure? It's the reason why everybody is so obese. They all eat normally here, but exercise less, and spend so much time in their cars, driving around. I swear, the traffic in LA is not normal for the size of their freeways. In Germany, that kind of traffic only happens there in the Ruhrgebeit and the Main area, or during holidays.

--do you hate vegetables?

--are your cities so spread out? The suburbs here are so far from the center, and the government doesn't even bother building a public transportation network.

--would you drive around for thirty minutes to find a parking spot near the door/establishment? Don't you think that's a waste in gas?

--is In N Out the best burger in town? It is just a burger. Definitely better than what passes for hamburgers in Germany, though. But In N Out fries rock.

--are your cars so huge?

--do you watch TV all the time? Don't you guys have a life?

My comments section is open!

Welcome to the US, Bitch

Note: If you haven't seen the show The O.C., you wouldn't get the reference.

It was a verrry long flight to the US, an hour longer than the one to the Philippines from Germany. It was pretty uneventful for the most part. For now I am enjoying discovering Amerika. You see, the US is the most idolized and fetishized country where I come from, and separating fact from the hype is proving to be an educational experience.

Well, the trip hasn't been entirely uneventful. First of all, I will never fly domestic via U.S. Air ever again. I can't believe that the Charlotte Airport doesn't have automatic baggage forwarding. Second, my first ever encounter with US Immigration Authorities in Charlotte, North Carolina, proved to be quite interesting.

While waiting in line, the "Welcome to America" video played on loop in the airport. I feel that the content is meant to strike fear or at least insecurity into the hearts of men. Is my chocolate roll allowed to pass through? My camera? Do I have my passport? My e-ticket?

Then it was my turn. The man behind the counter was friendly, and asked me several questions, where was I from, why did I have an American accent, why didn't I sound Filipino. All very relevant. He seemed to know a good deal about the Philippines.

Then he looked intently at the computer screen and said. "Well, we have a slight hitch here. You have a name similar to someone who doesn"t like the United States. A lot."

Uh-oh. "Really? Oh wow. Drug-related?"

"Well, let"s just say that the person is a part of a terrorist group, like the Abu Sayyaf."

"That can't be, they're Muslim. I have a Hispanic-sounding name."

"I said like the Abu Sayyaf." A great furrowing of brows. "The State Department should have informed us of this."

"Well, it must be the FARC then."

More typing. "Look, I"m pretty sure you're not this person. But I still have to alert my supervisor about this. I can't make this call." He gave me a card with the number 1 written on it, and put all my documents in a plastic folder. "The problem is that you have a new passport (issued March 2009) and your visa is also new." A great stamping of documents. "We'll give you your luggage when we're done." Then he seemed to have a change of heart and said," You know what, why don't we already pick up your luggage, then we'll lead you to questioning."

A uniformed officer picked me up from the booth and led me to the carousel to pick up my luggage, then led me to a room full of other sad, nervous, or pissed-off looking people. I am pretty sure that no-one was looking, but it was still mortifying doing the "Walk of Shame" with a baby carriage, my luggage, and a uniformed officer beside me. Ohmigod, please don"t let the others think that I am a mule, I thought, thinking of the movie Maria Full of Grace.

I was called out, an this time a dour-looking man faced me and asked sternly. "From which country did you fly?" " Where was your passport issued?" " Can you give me your birthdate, please?" "Do you have a return flight?" "Show me your ticket please."

Bleary from the 9-hour flight and jet lag, I answered in short sentences, monosyllabic if possible. Seemingly satisfied with my answers, he handed back my documents and said, "The door is over there."

And onwards to freedom.

I want to make clear that I bear no ill will to the US Government and know that they are just doing their jobs, and this is all just a case of miscommunication. I saw that the first gentleman felt badly about sending me to his unsmiling supervisor, and really tried to expedite my processing and minimize my inconvenience. I also know that the US State Department did their job thoroughly. They even pulled out my old Petition to Immigrate from 1987, the reason why my parents are now in the US.

But still, nothing says welcome to the US than being escorted by a uniformed officer into a room. Welcome to the US, bitch.

Flying the Unfriendly Skies

I am JUST SO FRUSTRATED with DELTA AIRLINES that I am just about to be SICK!

Really, airlines should just stop outsourcing customer service since they really couldn't do anything. These 1-800 numbers are just out to pilfer money from their customers without really giving any service!

It all started when I tried to book a flight to Las Vegas to see my parents. According to the DELTA website, Customers traveling with infants are charged 10% of the ticket, along with any taxes. The ticket I wanted to buy cost 303€, and a whopping €200 in taxes. I wanted a final figure, I didn't want to end up paying 1000 $ for the flight. But the call center told me that I would have to book the flight first and then call them again to add Antonio's name to my entry. I booked the flight and called the call center again, and asked for a final figure.

They took my call. I gave them my credit card number, my three digit code.

Then my call was dropped.

I started panicking at this point. I just gave some stranger my credit card details and still didn't have a figure of how much the flight was actually gonna cost. It was already almost 1 a.m., and calls from Germany were forwarded to the American call center only until this time.

After a fitful night's sleep, I called Delta in Atlanta, not an 800 number (thanks, Adam!) and cancelled my flight. My confirmation number doesn't appear online anymore, but I'm still waiting for my refund to book a new flight. I maxxed out my credit card in the whole fiasco.

But wait! There's more! I called Atlanta to follow-up and "Amy" told me that I will not get a refund cos I'm in Europe! She gave me a customer care number and it took me 45 minutes to iron out this mess. Turns out my refund application isn't on queue, and it would take 3-4 WEEKS, not 5-7 business DAYS as promised, to refund my money.

Meanwhile, I still have no flight, no e-mail confimation that I've asked for a refund despite x requests, and time is running short before the costs of my flight skyrocket. THANK YOU DELTA.

I Went to Manila and All I Got Was a Lousy Conscience

Well, if you wonder where I went these past few months, I went back to the homeland. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures to show for it, since our camera was stolen from my husband's checked-in backpack (goes to show that when you fly Cebu Pacific, you get what you pay for).

Somehow, saying goodbye to the folks this time was much harder than it was the last time. I decided to step on that plane was the impending summer heat, and the fact that Antonio has a brighter future in Europe. That's it.

Seeing the passage of time in how much my nieces and nephew have grown, and the knowledge that Antonio will not grow up with his cousins, was really sad. The fact that I don't have the luxury of household help in Germany was another. Haaay...Do all expats have this, I wonder.

Zuhause und doch nicht

Ich bin wieder hier in meinem beliebten Manila, und ich bin froh wieder hier zu sein, und natuerlich weil ich den deutschen Winter vermieidet hab. Obwohl ich nicht ganz wohl in DE fuehle, meine Entscheidung mein ehemaligen Freund und jetzigen Mann nach DE zu folgen hat auch damit zu tun, dass mir hier in Manila ein gewisses etwas fehlte. Mein Mann hat gesagt dass ich anders als die anderen Filipinos war, und das hab ich auch gespuert, aber nicht verstanden warum ich anders war.

Dass hier ist mein zweites Besuch seit 2006, aber mein erstes als neue Mutti. Ich bin sehr froh dass ich hier Maids hab, da in DE ich etwas ueberfordert in meiner neuen Rolle fuehlte. Und ich fuhlte mich wie ein Gefangener in meiner Wohnung. Wer wollte bitteschoen in der Kaelte mit einem kleinen Baby spazierengehen?

Es gibt viele Grunde hier in Manila sich zu freuen. Familie, Freunde, das Essen, das Wetter. Aber jetzt hab ich genug Abstand von meinem ehemaligen Leben hier und mein Leben in DE um zu vergleichen, was besser in DE ist oder auf den PH mir besser gefaellt. Und jetzt verstehe ich was mein Mann meinte, als er sagte dass ich anders war.

Ich liebe meine Familie in DE, aber Weihnachten hier ist immer schoener als in DE. Ihr wisst dass ich Schwierigkeiten mit meiner Schweigermutter hab. Weihnachten auf den PH ist eine Zeit in der die Familie alle Probleme verschwunden liess. In DE in einem kleinem Raum mit Familienmitglieder den man nur einmal im Jahr sieht ist Stress pur. Die Deutsche muessen immer ihren Meinung aeussern, obwohl es waere besser wenn Sie ihren Mund halten. Ich hab diesen Weihnachten geweint weil meine Schwiegermama das genau gemacht hab! Meine Erziehungsstil ist nicht Deutsch, aber ich mache es bestimmt nicht ganz verkehrt!

Aber ich kann es mir nicht vorstellen, wieder in Manila zu wohnen. Da ich jetzt mein Kind hab, weiss ich schon dass die Umgebung in meiner Stadt in DE besser fuer Kinder als in Manila ist. Ausruestungen, Aktivitaeten, Freizeitmoeglichkeiten foerdern die geistige Entwiklung des Kindes. Meine Grosseltern haben mich genau so erzogen. Jetzt sehe ich eine verschlechterung der Qualitaet von Kinderfreizeitmoeglichkeiten. Die spielen nicht mehr drausend wie damals, kennen die alte Spiele nicht mehr. Und die Maids, weil sie nicht besser wissen, lassen die Kinder von dem Fernseher erziehen, und gucken nur entweder Disney Channel oder Fernsehenmuell. Oder eben Computerspielen. Das liegt an meiner Schwester, aber in ihrer Nachbarschaft sind alle Kinder so. Obwohl es ist schoen, ein sauberes Haus zu haben, ist dass genug ein vernunftiges Umgebung fuer die Kinder zu schaffen?

Und da jetzt Malls ueberall angebaut sind, kontrolliert Sir Henry Sy und Co. die ganze Freizeitmoeglichkeiten meiner Niechten und Neffe.

Es macht mich traurig, dass Government Services immer noch als Kampagnematerial von Politiker ausgenutzt werden. Die nutzen Steuerngeld fuer Werbematerial! Warum soll ich dieser Mann waehlen? Weil er die Strassen beleuchtet hat? Und er liess es uns wissen mit seinem Initialen auf jedem Mast? Dass wir helle Strassen haben sollte eine Selbsverstaendlichkeit sein, oder? Und dass die Leute dass immer noch nicht kapieren kotzt mich an.

Ich bin zur Zeit zwischen zwei Welten. Hier ist ein System dass ich verstehe, aber nicht mehr mitmachen moechte, und in DE ist ein System dass ich immer noch nicht ganz verstehe, in einer Umgaebung in der ich nicht wohl fuehle, aber weiss dass es besser fuer mein Kind ist.

Why Did His Penis Cross the Road?

Happy New Year, everyone! As a treat, I present you this hilarious, dirty, misogynistic ditty from Canadian Jon la Joie E=MC Vagina.



Good times in Poland...

Name That Statue!

Where is this statue? What is its relation to Jose Rizal? Answers until December 31. First to post the answers in the comments section wins a treat from Breslau, Poland, my next destination!

EDIT: What? No answers?

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.

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."

Prague

Went to Prague and tried to do it in a day--never again!

Anyhoo, I will go back in May with my friends, and I would definitely check out the Museum of Sex Machines and the Museum of Medieval Torture. That's the great thing about living in Europe! Proximity to amazing cities, and crazy museums.



National Museum,Prague



King Wenceslas Statue



Wide Boulevards



Prague may suffer from poor urban planning, but its beauty are in its details.



Tyn Church



Tower where the Astronomical clock is located.



Loved the intricate design on the door.



The clock itself.



Museum beside the Clock



Fountain near the clock



Tower at the start of the St. Charles's Bridge



Sts. Norbert, Wenceslas and Sigismond on the bridge

Berlin Noch Mal

Finally, Berlin in summer! I'm always in Berlin during the winter, and I finally got to do some sightseeing, and Berlin in summer ist noch wunderbarer! I went to Berlin to meet up with my childhood friend Yen, and we had a hoot! They left on Friday, and Thomas joined me on the same day.

Saya ng puro babae lang! Shopping galore! Walang panira eksena! Haha!



Sony Center Tourist Trap



What's left of the Berlin Wall, Potsdamer Platz



Me and Yen



Kaiser Wilhelm Gedächtnis Kirche, Ku'damm.



Bundestag. See the line? You can skip it if you have a kid with you.



Dome on the Bundestag



Charlie's Angels



Bundestag Interiors



Mukha siyang spaceship



Brandenburger Tor



Typical GDR Apartment, DDR Museum



Lashingan with Yen and Carsten



Their last day, I was missing them already. So much fun!



Thomas at Alexanderplatz



Knut ist cute!



Thomas having a staring match with his brother at the Berlin Zoo.

Sa uulitin!

Thomas and Cathy do the Philippines, Part 2

Landed in Manila, and did the Carlos Celdran Tour. I have been following his blog for sometime now. Most of the things he said were things I already knew, but there were things that I didn't know, and I am all the more grateful for that info. Just knowing how Manila became what it is, in comparison to what it could have been (see: Barcelona), means we can all do something to change it.



Snake Island, our first stop in Palawan, and part of the archipelao out of Honda Bay. Government owned, so we didn't have to pay to stay on the island, although a small donation would be appreciated. You have to pay the boatman 600 to get there, but if you are able to find another tourist willing to split the cost, then it would be a lot cheaper. A boat is able to carry up to 6 people. No amenities, no fresh water, so better bring a bottle of tap water, a tent, and a spade in case you want to do number 2 in the wild. If that's too much for you, hop over to Pandan island nearby, where they have toilets and showers with fresh running water. The photo on the hammock (see January) was taken on Pandan Island.



Looks like a hotel room, doesn't it? We wanted to catch the first bus to Sabang, home of the Underground River. After a futile search for a camping site. (I mean mygulay Thomas, we're in the Ph not in Europe, walang camping site dito!), a kindly furniture maker/vendor who had a stall at the marketplace beside the bus station offered us a wooden bed in his stall. In exchange, I guess, for us manning his shop for the night. Robbers are wary when they see people sleeping in the shop. We were woken promptly the next day at 6 am by the squealing of pigs from a slaughterhouse 100 meters away. Fun.



The bus turned out to be this giant monster all-terrain jeepney, which was packed to the brim, complete with people on top. So full, that this guy was standing on the hood of the jeepney. I have had the fortune of riding on top of a jeepney twice! It's like being on a roller coaster! The terrain going to Sabang, where the Underground River is, was very rocky, to say the least. It made me think of an old brake fluid commercial of the Sex Bomb dancers: "Laban Laban! o Bawi Bawi!"



Entrance to the Underground river. Beauty Pageant ang dating, Odiva?



Me facing The Bayawak. I think this is the Philippine Komodo Dragon? Anyway, I can't imagine anybody eating such a creature, although people assure me its meat is delicious.



Mama Macaque with Baby Macaque. Be careful, she might steal your glasses! She has a special fondness for handbags, I've heard.



I remember seeing several of these when I was a kid in Cavite. Now that Cavite has become a suburb of Manila, and I hope that this sight won't become extinct on our islands.



Falls near Sabang. A very rocky two kilometer hike to get there from the main beach. I wouldn't say that the falls were woth the hike, but the rocks are good way to train and test for balance. There is a Chinese temple nearby, where people give donation for "maintenance." I imagine that a lot of wannabe kung-fu artists train here.



The thick jungles of Sabang. I came up with the brilliant idea to climb Mount Apo, an idea that burned so bright in Thomas' head, so we decided to hire a guide to trek the jungle in preparation. Hungry mosquitoes fed on my legs despite mosquito lotion, and I was a bit scared that I was going to come down with Malaria. Although northern Palawan is malaria-free, you never know.

If you want to try trekking that jungle, bring a good hat, a machete and extra clothes. You think of rattan, all nice and beautiful, the stuff your wicker chair is made of. In the jungle, rattan is nasty, its bark covered with big, dangerous needles that pierce your forehead if you're not careful. Filipinos think of Pandan as that nice leaf you put into your rice for flavoring. In reality, Pandan is a spiky monster. Better bring your hat.



This was our destination, the source of the Underground River, called the Daylight Hole. See that rise? I climbed that with only flip-flops on!



Where we were.



After a dusty seven-hour jeepney ride, we reached Paradise. In between San Vicente and Port Barton. Too bad that speculators got there first, and somebody is going to build a resort out of paradise.



Our tent, facing Port Barton beach.



The biggest pothole in history. Our jeepney barely made it through. Note the man walking on the road.



Our next stop after Palawan was Cebu, where we caught this Cessna bound for Camiguin. Thomas took a picture of the plane because he didn't believe me when I told him that was our plane after I saw it land on the runway. Not until the last minute. This is akin to Thomas saying "Takot ako!"



The hardest climb I've undertaken: Mt. Hibok-Hibok on Camiguin. the terrain was rocky, and the rain made everything so slick. We also didn't get a good view of the island because of the rain.



Note the names of the island's governor, congressman, and mayor on this billboard in Camiguin. And the mango-carrying Santa!



This is the life: Ardent Hot Springs, Camiguin.



Sunken Cemetry off Camiguin. This used to be a part of the island when Mt. Hibok-Hibok erupted in the 1870s, and the seismic forces drowned this part of the island. A white cross marks where the cemetery used to be. Snorkeling is great fun, and a bit eerie, seeing how the coral has overrun the graves, exposing their interiors. It's like visiting a normal cemetery. I was reflecting on the lives of these people as the colorful clownfish passed by. I think it is a good idea to be buried underwater and have the coral grow over you. Kind of like the people who want to be buried under trees, their bodies to be used as fertilizer after they pass on. Very ecological, doncha think?



After Camiguin, we took the ferry to Butuan and took the bus to Davao, and went to the Agusan Marsh, where Thomas hoped that we could get a glimpse of crocs in the wild. We couldn't find a campsite. This being Mindanao, there was a general fear among the people for our safety. It isn't unusual to see people carrying high-powered weapons here. We were first holed up in a place that had the temerity to call itself an inn, when we contacted some military people we met, who let us graciously stay in their compound. They were puzzled by the idea that people would want to stay in a tent.



A basketball court in the middle of the Marsh.



This is the habal habal, or Skylab, in honor of the satellite look-alike. I have a very nasty burn scar now just above my right ankle when a habal-habal I took tipped over and the exhaust pipe touched my skin. Transportation being tight and roads being decrepit, this is the method of transportation in many islands. This baby can sit 10 people.



We then moved on to Davao and climbed Mt. Apo



If I would move back to the PH, I would probably choose to live in Davao or Cebu. Can you imagine having a beach within city limits with crystal clear waters? Samal Island, Davao.



Had a small farewell party afterwards. A nice way to end a vacation.