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!

Germany's Next Top Model: Recap

Ohne Zweifel, die dritte Staffel von Germany's Next Top Model ist das beste von allen! Die Challenges sind echt interessant und realistisch. Ich kann diese Challenges als echtem Modelingjobs vorstellen! Production values sind sehr hoch, nicht wie beim Tyra Banks. GNTM ist uberhaupt kein Verglich zu ANTM! Ehrlich! Und ich war eine damalige Zuschauerin bei ANTM!

Viele von den letzten 12 Kandidatinnen haben echt gute Chancen, Models zu werden, mit oder ohne GNTM. Sie sind sehr gut ausgewählt

UPDATE: Das WUsste Ich Doch!

Ich wusste doch das die Jenny gewinnt! An der letzen Sendung haben sie Jenny gebeten, ein anderes Kleid anzuziehen! Genau so wie Barbara letztes Jahr!Bei Anschau von dem Cosmo Shoot hatte nur Jenny den Cosmo Titel hinter ihr!

Naja, Obwohl die Janina ein sehr gutes Modell ist, Jenny ist junger, und in dem Modelgeschäft je junger desto besser, weil die Modelagentur mehr geld von ihr gewinnen kann. Sie verkörpert auch den Trend in der Modellwelt, androgeny, und ich glaube, dass die GNTM Jury wollte dran einkassieren und eine Konkurrentin für Agyness Deyn bewerben.

Janina hat bestimmt eine ganz gute Zukunft als Modell, obwohl sie den Titel nicht hat, selbst die Giselle, so verhasst wie sie ist, hat etwas, an X Factor, und wird auch Modell. Die Christina war eine unerwartete Kandidatin in dritte Platz, aber GNTM möchte immer jemand dabei haben, die sich von Maus zum Löwe entwickeln wurde. Sie haben vielleicht an Sarah gehofft, aber wir wissen wie das geklappt hat...Aber sie hat ihren Platz verdient, muss ich dazu geben.

Sehr gut gemacht, Heidi!

Welcome to Hell. Enjoy Your Stay!

Warning: Adult Content
I had been dying to visit the The Kit Kat ever since the very gay Adam told me about it. He went there to go to the Hustlaball.

So when a couple of friends of mine told me that they were going to Berlin, I took the opportunity to arrange a visit. At around this time, Thomas was getting a bit antsy about our sex life, and had begun to cajole me to try a threesome.

"I don't want to do a threesome," I said. "I don't need it, and if ever I do it, I'd like guy-guy-girl, not girl-girl-guy!"

"But c'mon it's really gonna be fun! I mean, I have slept with so few women..."

Aha. So he's looking for a loophole in the fidelity part of I do.

"But I've slept with enough people, I really don't have the need to sleep around any longer. Besides, the mere thought of licking a woman's pussy disgusts me!"

"God, since when have you been so boring?"

What? The temerity of this asshole. I'm the one who's not getting her thrice weekly expected marital obligations, and you call me BORING?!!

I signed us up at Craiglist that very night.

* * *

I did some very thorough research before going into the club. What to expect, and so on. It was "lack and leather" night,so I dropped 100 euros at a sex shop while I was in Berlin for a pleather dress. It's very cute, but it also screams whore.

Thomas was a bit upset when i told him I wanted to go into the club with my visiting friends, so I changed my mind and told him we could go there to look for our "bi curious femme."

Around this time, I also read up on threesomes, the mechanics, how it happens. I read a lot of Savage Love, interviewed people who have participated in threesomes.

We rented a moderately expensive room at a hotel that night in anticipation. I was quite disappointed that Thomas failed to prepare for "the big night." I mean, I was merely curious, he was in search of somebody. He wore his same old business suit.

Saturday. We stand in front of the door, and were required to show what we had underneath our coats. "You know that this is the Kit Kat Club and what it stands for..." said the door bitch.

I unbuttoned my trench. She nodded approvingly. 10 euros, our signature in a sheet of paper titled "Association of Hedonists," and we were in.

The sprawling Kit Kat Club had four bars, so many dance floors, a "couple's room," and a swimming pool, which was closed for that night. Looking at the red lights and the neon flourescent images of fornicating people on the walls, I was reminded of how hell was presented to us in Catholic school.

Everybody's weird fetishes were welcome. And I believe I saw it all. We watched a bondage show. I saw very young, and very cute twinks. A naked, faded hippie with long, gray hair alternately smoked, danced, and masturbated on stage. A handsome young man started dancing, took off his jacket, and revealed a nice set of breasts. A young man in a wheelchair, his emaciated limbs painting day-glo flowers on women's breasts and taking photos of it. A woman who had Dolly Parton ambitions.

All possible sexual permutations, outside of beast-human, were well represented. Man-woman, Dom-Slave, Man-Man, Woman-Woman, Man-Woman-woman, who knows what else.

It was quite apparent who were newbies there. There were a lot of couples who I guess were also looking for their bi curious male or female who seemed weirded out by the sex that surrounded them. I guess when they wanted to fuck somebody else,they didn't contend with the methods that they had to go through to get them. They all stood in the corner, huddled like little bunnies, eyes wide as saucers.

As for me, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. A man and a woman started fucking right before me. To be honest, I was so turned on that I wanted to jump in.

"Kiss me," I ordered Thomas. "Play with my tits." All he could do was oblige me with lukewarm effort. I could see that all this sex was too hardcore for Thomas. He had the bunny look, too. So I pushed Thomas away and continued watching the intertwined couple with fascination reserved for animals in a zoo.

* * *

At the beginning of the night, Thomas and I began scoping the territory for a potential partner.

"How about that blonde?" He asked.

"Naah. Too many teeth."

We both fancied one of the barmaids, a topless Betty Page lookalike in a corset.

So we went back to the chill-out lounge and started discussing our strategy when the blonde sat behind us and lit a joint.

"Is that a joint I smell?" I asked, and started the ball rolling. She was friendly enough, offered to share the joint. She wasn't interested, she said, she had a boyfriend. We looked at her skeptically, and she shrugged. "After all, this is the Kit Kat. Alles kann, nichts muss."

After a couple of hours we still hadn't found anybody. I started getting frustrated. "Look Thomas, if we aren't hitting on anybody, we might as well go home."

"Well, why aren't you hitting on anybody as well?"

"Are you kidding me? I asked her, she wasn't interested. It's your turn now."

"But it's easier for you!"

"Hey buddy, you wanted it, you go get it. I have made everything so easy for you. I arranged for us to go here, I've hit on somebody. You can't expect me to serve up everything for you on a silver platter."

"But you're pressuring me. It's making everything so much harder!" He whined.

The barmaid came into the lounge. She's obviously on break, and is making small talk with the other bartender. "I'm going to the restroom," Thomas said. Wuss, I muttered in my head.

I wanted Thomas to do this himself, but I also wanted to make it easier for him. So I went to the bar and sat next to Ms. Page. She was speaking German to the bartender. I bided my time, ate some of the fruit from the fruit platter, looking at the woman.

Thomas came in, and saw me beside her. Make your move now, my eyes commanded.

Thomas stood between us...and did nothing. The barmaid obviously had a clue, because she told the bartender in English "I'll come an hour after now, during my next break."

She slinked off, and Thomas started to kick himself. "Why am I so chicken?!"

To this day I think that she said that for our benefit, and that she would've accomodated us, if we hadn't sussed out. "Let's go home," I said.

It was already light out when we left.

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.

I asked my students to open a blog for their school assignments, so I don't have to schlepp paper everytime I go to class. I am very disorganized, you see.

I just read the blog of one of my students, and it scares me to realize that they are looking for somebody who actually gives a fuck, just as I wanted somebody to please, give a fuck.

I wonder how long I will last giving a fuck.

Topsy Turvy

I am a firm believer that language is a reflection of the people's culture. Just as the people of Nigeria have 34 different words for Green, Filipinos have a lot of words for Rice.

For the Pinoys out there, think about how many words we have for rice? From Palay to Bahaw, we've got it all covered. Just to show you foreigners that rice is life. In a lot of SEA countries, the word rice is the same as the word eat. In Tagalog, Kanin and Kain don't sound so dissimilar.

As you know, I am currently studying Spanish in preparation for my trip to Spanish. It's actually harder to learn a language that is very similar to my own. What made retaining German hard was its similarity to English. I still have difficulty switching from English to German, but it's a cinch from German to Tagalog, because the languages are so different. I suspect that I will have the same difficulties with Spanish and Tagalog.

I have to get over the fact that in Spanish, Almozar means lunch, not breakfast, that my casa has four paredes, not pader, , that the accent of panaderia is at the "ia ," and not at the "pa."

But what really blows me away is that most of the verbs that Tagalog adopted from Spain are in the third person singular, which is the way Spanish issues its imperatives! I participated in one of Carlos Celdran's tours, and I was struck by something he said: That Filipino street food is a cuisine of tira, or leftovers, a slave's meal. I was struck by the fact that while Alipin seems to be a Malay word, Amo, or Master, is Spanish.

I can imagine how Tagalog picked up certain words because these were the only Spanish words that the poor muchachos picked up, from the orders of their masters. Puede became Pwede. In Visayan, Saka means to climb, which is of course the third person singular of, guess what? Sacar. Cierra? Sara. Sigue? Sige!

I am not begrudging the Spanish for not teaching us the language. I thank them for it because they preserved Tagalog, a very interesting mix of Malay, Chinese, Spanish, and English. What has been done has been done, and I am grateful for the variety they introduced to my language. I actually damn the Filipinos that followed. For all our words for rice, they have failed us by failing to implement Land Reform and actually have our country self sufficient enough to minimize imports. For a country that eats rice morning, noon, and night, we need to import 90 % of our rice, and we are currently at the mercy of ballooning rice prices.

Experiencing Technical Difficulties

I would like to apologize in advance if I am not able to update my blog. I am having a very busy stretch right now, studying Spanish in preparation for my trip to Barcelona, and trying to get more private work to finance my trip.


I still have to upload photos of my Philippine trip, so I hope you could bear with me!

Armaggedon

As Eurotrippen put it, some serious, end of times shit has been afoot. Today and yesterday saw some crazy weather go down. It was sunny, snowy, and cloudy all at the same time!

In other news, Paris Hilton will be headlining the "Wetten, dass..." show this weekend, which will be filmed in Erfurt. Coincidence?

Of Basil, and other things

Can anybody help me out with my basil? My basil is acting up. I bought my plant from Lidl, and at first it seemed fine but it has developed clusters of black spots, which seem to be eating the leaves.



The basil is in long planter with rosemary and chives. The rosemary and chives seem fine, but the basil has always acted up. My first basil plant and my chilis died from aphids, but it did not kill my rosemary and chives.

Secondly, I just wanted to share my current favorite song, Superstar from Lupe Fiasco featuring Matt Santos (yes, he's part Pinoy!) Santos has an amazing voice, reminds me of Chris Martin and John Mayer, but just check out his other songs, his range is amazing!

Those Who Can't Do, Teach

I was a pretty precocious kid growing up. I learned to read when I was three, and my linguistic capabilities were miles away from my peers. It ran in the family. We were bookworms, English teachers, journalists, polyglots.

In the fifth grade I joined a drama group, and I spent my high school years with the drama club. I was such a drama queen growing up, it was the perfect outlet. As I entered my senior year, I asked myself, should I take up drama or journalism next year?

The answer came in the form of Mrs. Guevarra, my fourth year English high school teacher. She had just come back from a scholarship in Japan, and was the second person in the world that I wanted to be like when I grew up (My grandpa was the first). I thought she was so refined and elegant, with the way she walked, and how she sipped her diet Coke in can everyday on her way to class before the first bell rang.

She recognized something in me, me who was so insecure and was bullied to pieces by my schoolmates. She actually validated my existence and recognized that I actually had something to offer the world. For the first time in my life, I thought I knew what I needed to do: I needed to be a writer. It was a plan that I hatched when I was twelve, but I felt that this was the push that told me, to just do it.

So I spent four years in college pretty much immersing myself in the writing craft. It was one of the best times in my life. I may have failed algebra four times, but hey, who cared? I was there to become a writer.

Then I graduated and the real world ate me up alive. It was so cruel and brutal and mean, that I just drifted along in life, trying to become an adult. Classic quarter-life crisis.I never wanted the government journ job I was doing. I thought, maybe I'll leave after two years, which became, I'll leave when I pass my civil service exams. Two years turned into four and a half. The pay was too cushy, the hours too comfortable that I basically vegged out on life. I was just getting my journ career back on track when I met Thomas. I wanted to stay because I was going to miss my family and friends, but a part of me wanted to grow out of my skin so badly that I thought, it's now or never.

I started to learn German two years ago, and discovered that I had a knack for languages. I started to teach English on the side. It was a rough beginning, but I could honestly say that this is the most fun I have ever had working. I swear, the cockles of my heart tingle than to hear a student exclaim "Ach, so!" I get it!

The weird thing is that I am currently teaching Essay Writing, International Affairs, and Public Relations to a group of kids aged 18 to 20. These kids finished Realschule in Germany, meaning they left school at 16. They are on their final year of school, after which they would earn the German equivalent of an Associate degree. I was stupefied to learn that their teachers in school had never required a book report in their classes, nor had these kids written an essay! In my high school, we were required to turn in four essays a year!

Now that I have become Mrs. Guevarra, I take my job pretty seriously. I got pretty good feedbck from my classes. The principal said that the students have asked for more of me, could I teach all of their classes? I teach half of the four hours of English they get in a week. I am completely blown away and humbled by this. This is definitely a long way from life in Manila, but I love what I am doing right now.

My aunt in the US calls me, keeps asking me, when are you going to go back to journalism? I have a few projects tilling in my head, and I feel completely guilty for not pushing through with them. It's the Catholic in me, I guess. She has this feeling that, like her, I have abandoned my dreams to take a menial job. But to be quite honest, I don't think that that life is for me. The stress of the profession is not conducive for raising a family, which is what I want to have someday. I don't miss having to drop everything that I was doing because something is happening in some other part of the city. I don't miss the parola journalism practiced in Manila.

Is it possible to think that you have one calling, and find yourself fulfilled in another?

Barcelona in Pictures/ Barcelona en Retratos

San Jose de Montanyana Church. An ancestor of mine is supposedly buried there. No dice. I will get to the bottom of this!



Churros and Chocolate near the Picasso Museum. Yum.



For 19 euros a day, you can see all the sights in Barcelona at your own convenience.



Gaudi is a major architectural force in his day. I don't get it. Sorry, man.



Under construction. Please come back in 2022!



This was how high school felt like.



Barcelona at night.


Colon Tower at Las Ramblas, near our apartment.



Thomas: Not as drunk as last year!



This little piggy went to market...stupid pig.



Bubble artist's bubble at Parc Güell



The insect and the lizard.

Barcelona

I remember reading Heidelbergerin's post on Dresden, and how she fell in love with a city.

Well, I've fallen in love too. My city's name is Barcelona! I love it because the city seemed so alive and electric, gritty and beautiful. Where Manila is a deranged woman, Barcelona is her passionate, tempetuous sister. She has her rough parts, but her beautiful parts are fantastic! Manila, look at Barcelona. This is the city you should have been. It makes me weep thinking about how we have destroyed my hometown.

The best New Year's party I've been to was in the year 2000, when 700 partygoers turned the middle of Paseo de Roxas and Ayala Avenue into a dance floor till 7 am. This party comes quite close! Don't you just love marching bands?



I like the city so much that I'm planning to move there! I'm subletting my apartment here in Erfurt for three months to teach English while learning Spanish in Barcelona. Oh, how I love the flexibility of freelancing! Barcelona, here I come!

The Loneliness of Being Alone

Am home with the parentals and the family. I am quite happy to be home yet not home at the same time. New house, new life, grown ups grown up growing up children.

My brother, mother, and I have spent a part of our lives abroad and I told the brother come to me to Germany I'll even pay for your flight if need be. Husband doesn't understand the mixed happiness and loneliness of experiencing something new and wonderous like snow for the first time and wanting to share it with some of the most important people of your life and they aren't there couldn't be. I saw snow for the first time last year. That was sad.

Brother said the same thing about his half year in Las Vegas and mz mom's two year stint in Italy. I guess I don't suffer this loneliness alone.

Out of Office

PALAWAN--The blogger is currently not available. Please try again in February.