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.
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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!
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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!

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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.