My Favorite Things

Before there was Germany, before there was a Thomas, there was a 6 year old girl named Arashi who watched her favorite film over and over again as a child. She knew all of the songs by heart, and would later sing these songs like 'Edelweiss' and 'My Favorite Things' up in the lonely Alps.

She thought that 'Edelweiss' was the national song of Austria, and that this movie was representative of the people that lived in these two countries.

Later, as she set foot on these two countries, she was horrified to discover that the people had no idea of the American movie with the Governess, the Captain, and his seven children! Except in Salzburg, where they are now making a killing out of the Americans who like to ride in buses and wear silly hats. They know a German film, though, which had no music, no girls who were sixteen going on seventeen.

So she made it a mission--A mission!--to introduce this lovely film to everybody who cared to listen. She ordered the special 40th anniversary DVD edition on Amazon, and with bated breath, organized a film night and shared it to her German friends.

The hills of Jena were alive, not with the sound of music, but with laughter!
"Who on earth eats schnitzel with noodles?" asked a girl beside . Yes, who on earth does eat breaded prokchop with noodles? The crowd tittered everytime the American-speaking Austrians mispronounced words like "Auf Wiedersehen" and Edelweiß!

"Oh it's a very Hollywood movie. How can people think that the Germans are like that?"

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

Well, an idiot like me, that's who.

I live in a land where Al Gore would be preaching to the choir. I don't know about the other Germany, but this Germany is hard-core about environmental issues. People bring their own backpacks to the supermarket. They have to pay something like 6 pesos for every plastic bag they get from the store.

I also passed around my DVDs of my favorite American TV show "The Amazing Race." My friend Adam and I are so in love with it that he downloads and burns copies for me. I passed it around my group. What did they have to say about it?

"It's a waste of airplane fuel!"

I told Thomas that my camera, which I forgot in Manila, would make a trip to Germany with a stop over at my aunt's in Las Vegas.

"What a waste of airplane fuel!"

You have to admire their economy of words and resources.

Salamat!

Hello guys I'd like to thank everybody who sent in their suggestions! I ended up making pansit, lumpiang shanghai, and biko! They ate everything (and I mean everything) that I didn't even have leftovers for the staff to eat. It was fantastic!

The version of biko that I made was suggested by the anonymous poster in my February 2 entry. The biko was basically a hybrid of the ordinary biko that we think of, but the brown caramelized topping that I made out of condensed milk reminded me more of the cassava cake toppings that come from Bulacan. Instead of macapuno, I filled the biko with langka. This is a tradition I see often in Cavite.

And I tell ya, I've served these old folks before, and they are picky eaters.



So thanks everyone for your suggestions! They want an encore, and I'll probably make Leila's embutido this time!

moi dix mois

Caught this in Chuvaness's website a month ago. With nothing to do I decided to translate it for kicks. From German TV, interview was also done in Germany. Words in parentheses are mine, for clarification. If anybody can explain the words that I don't quite understand, I will be very grateful. Thanks!

Host: "Today we open the door to a mysterious world. We will meet with Mana, the man that never speaks. Small bling (as in bling bling, jewelry) is good for the shop (or business). Mana has more than one. He founded the Gothic Lolita look, mixing metal with classic and j-pop, and connects big shoes with big theater. Mana whispers, his medium answers. Both their appearances suggest that they know Marilyn Manson. What great secret will he whisper to us?"

K: As a teenager I was a fan or Mötley Crüe. They appealed to me when I saw them in a magazine because they had an extreme style. I found Tommy Lee super, that's why I really wanted a drum set, and my parents actually bought me one. That is what Mana said.

Host: Shortly Tommy Lee would Mana neither become a 'heavy metal-er' nor a drummer, but the guitarrist and the head of the cult Japanese band Malice Mizer. Fans love the hard sound, and the doll-like appearance of the musician (Mana).
With his solo projct Moi dix Mois, the control-freak Mana propels (or boosts) artistry, the Gothis Lolita look and elegant poses to the top. Everything has to be perfect. He prefers to make his own clothes.

K: I opened the fashion/clothes shop moi meme moitie 99% by myself, with clothes for Gothic Lolitas, beause there weren't any clothes that combined something sweet with something dark before. That's exactly what I did. Besides, I don't like short-lived trends, and my concept is for people who see things the same way. That is what Mana said.

Host: And the clothes sell well. There are schoolgirl lolitas with kilts (schottenrock. more likely, plaid skirts) and knee-high socks. Sweet lolitas with rouge, and elegant gothic lolitas with victorian-style corsets. All looks combine innocence and darkness. The fingers spread out to form the sign of Satan and a sweet smile on their lips. Through eiland (? island) is Mana's soul-craving for beauty specially fulfilled.

K: I heard a song from French pop singer Mylene Farmer sometime ago, and the sound of the French language fascinated me. Since then I became interested in French culture. That's what Mana said.

Host: Unexpected thirst (? I don't get the last word. Verdürtnis?) is behind the cult. (I think this means that this unexpected thirst powers the cult). This report about this circuit doesn't quite contain dark experiences and black masses. On the contrary, in Japan the Gothic Lolita Bible contains clothes patterns and recipes for cakes with confectioners sugar crosses. Mana and his fans won't allow themselves to be so easily defined. Devil's signs and baking (? what's backodien?), büschen (?) and evil looks. Perhaps the characterization of the perfect gothic lolita fails because even its creator has a hard time defining it.

K: That's the question of my life. (64$ question). That's what Mana said.

Host: That's when Mana crams back into his own universe made of great secrets and small gestures without so much a whisper. Sayonara, Mana-San.

Dreams

Ich habe sie schon geschafft! My German language test is behind me. Cross your fingers (or press your thumbs) for the results, which I should get within 6-8 weeks. God, I was so nervous, ice cold and shaking as I took the test. By the time I got to the very end I could hardly hold my pen straight! I hope that the proofers would still give me a four. I had a serious fight or flight attack yesterday from the nerves! I felt like I've run a marathon.

If I pass the test, if I get a 4 (with 5 being the highest) in all four parts of the test (reading, writing, listening, oral), then I can go to University! Get a Master's Degree!

I want it for the sake of getting it. Is that wrong? It seems incompatible with my dream of becoming a travel journalist/travel writer.

I've been seeking the path toward this dream for years now. I was a sucker for all of those travel programs and articles, I guess. Here'e a letter I got two years ago from pro-travel journalist Lester Ledesma:

Hi Catherine,

First of all, my compliments on your decision. Not many people have the guts to follow such a clearly undefined path :)Am wondering though as to what kind of travel journalism you are hoping to get into, as you did mention that you sent applications to travel documentary production houses. Or are you hoping to work with print publishers instead?For a start, I'd suggest you go on your own journeys first and write your own articles about them. At this stage, try to focus more on developing your writer's voice and your photographer's eye - these will be your products for sale, so be sure they are of good quality. Don't worry muna if the stories you write will be published or not. The material that you gather from these trips will be your portfolio, which is very important - think of this as your resume. No editor will believe that you can write a good travel article if you can't show them a good travel article, di ba?

With your portfolio in hand, start calling up editors and show them your work. Some may like what they see and use these stories - if so, ayan... pandagdag sa pogi points mo yan :)The thing is, for a writer who is just starting out, don't expect anyone to hand you an assignment wherein they send you to some faraway place that you'll cover. It just doesn't happen that way. Talagang you'll have to spend for your own travels muna so you can make your stories. Parang investment: travel=raw material. Travel story=final product.Then when you start getting a name for yourself, those cool assignments will come in. Pero matagal pa yan so be patient and concentrate on your products first :)

Sa photography, yeah.. there is a bit of techie stuff connected with it. Pero its not required... what is more important is the quality of the photos you take. So concentrate on developing your photographic style as well - its the "art" that will sell, not the "techie" stuff. Study the work of photographers you admire so you can somehow "absorb" their styles. Again, this will all take lots - maybe years - of work. Money may not be good at first - pero if you're really into it, chances are you'll be able to hack it. Ika nga - if you want it bad enough.... :)

...and I want it badly enough. If I go into pro-blogging then this will definitely be my niche. Wish me luck!

Represent!

As the only Filipina from the Philippines in this city, I have been invited to do a cooking demo for a group of East German women, who have never seen a Filipino in their lives.

The rules are: It has to be easy to prepare, it has to be easy to duplicate, and the ingredients should be readily available in the local supermarkets and Asian grocery stores. It should also suit the German palate.

I've decided to make lumpiang shanghai as an entree, and pansit guisado as an appetizer. I don't have any ideas for a salad (optional) and a dessert.

I made palitaw for Barbara, but she didn't like it. She said that the sticky consistency was too alien for her. I decided against turon because I'm making something with lumpia wrappers already. Don't say minatamis na saging because the Spanish restaurant carries it. And they know leche flan comes from Mexico.

I need something that's distinctly Pinoy. Send me an email! I'll be cooking on the 3rd of March!

I hear the call of the open road...

It's been a year since my dream-like journey around the Philippines, and six months since I went around the old continent on a motorbike. I miss the feel of the open road. Pavement that stretches for miles and miles, with no end in sight.

I miss the feeling of losing track of time. In long trips comes a point where you don't even know what day it is. Sunday? Thursday? In the end, it doesn't matter anyway. The rush of freedom, borrowed as it may be, is exhilitating.

Right now, I am sitting in front of a computer and dreaming about and longing for a really long road trip.

So your Grandad was a Nazi...

Thomas and I stayed with his relatives in Berlin over the holidays. As I was poring over old family photos, I noticed a peculiar thing: Thomas' grandad looked a whole lot older than I expected. Bald, thin, with weary eyes and lined face, he seemed like he was in his fifties. At first glance I thought that he was Thomas' great grandad. In fact he was just in his early forties.

I approached Thomas' aunt, who confirmed that yes, he was her father. He died before Thomas was born, in the 70s at the age of 56. She was 15.

"Why did he look so aged?"

"He was a medical doctor. After the war he was detained in a Russian labor camp for the next six years, and didn't come back to Germany until 1951. He died of a heart attack. I guess being imprisoned took a toll on his health."

Whoa.

The implication is that he was a Nazi kind of took me by surprise. Thomas's family is not racist. However, I always had this sugary sweet hope in my heart that Thomas' family was a lot like the Von Trapps. I never thought about it, but in my heart of hearts I wanted the family to be one of those nice people who helped the Jews.

Later that night I told Thomas that finding out that his grandad was a Nazi freaked me out a bit. In a hurt tone, Thomas told me to get over it. "Hello, if I had been born in that time I would've been a Nazi too. There were benefits to being a party member. Just because they belonged to the party didn't mean that they believed in it. Why are you judging my grandad because of my country's past?"

"By the way, my aunt (from the other side of the family) was a member of the Stasi, and that is at the opposite end of the political spectrum."

I mean how hardcore is that? First, I find out that his granddad was a Nazi, and now I find out that his aunt was an East German Stasi?

In a world where even the German Pope was a Nazi, it honestly shouldn't be surprising. Trying to find a native German family untouched by the Nazi regime would be trying to find a household untouched by death. It doesn't exist.

By all accounts, Thomas's grandad was a great guy. Up to this day, his children adopt a reverent tone of voice when they talk about their father, the mighty doctor who survived a Russian labor camp.

I also feel a bit of envy. My grandparents were teenagers during the war, so they didn't do anything more exciting than hide out in the mountains of their respective provinces.

I need time to come to terms with the fact that Thomas' family, like the rest of the Germans, are players in Germany's conflicted past. It's not that they wanted to be a part of any of these groups. The circumstances of Germany's turbulent history forced them to be so. While I try to accept these facts, I am praying, hoping, that no Jews, gays, or political prisoners were harmed in his hands. Maybe, just maybe, he was a Von Trapp after all.

Du bist zu wunderbar, Berlin!

Had a great New Years in Berlin! Berlin has the greatest museums in the world! If you're a museum-lover, Berlin is a great place to go. The major museums are all located in a place called Museum Island. It would take forever to go everything.

Here's a tip: Go the the least crowded museum you can find. Buy a three day ticket, worth *€ 7.50. It's just fifty cents more than the day ticket. Both tickets allow you to view the 60 or more major museums in Berlin. The fee includes an audio guide. It's really helpful because it spares reading time and eyeache and it's also very informative. I love how well organized the museum system is!

*EDIT: Reduced price for students and senior citizens. The three day ticket is more expensive for normal people.


The line to the Bode Museum. I tell you, the museums are packed here.


An ancient gambling game from the early Christian period.


A brilliant piece from the 15th century.


The interior of the museum.


The Berlin Main train station. Brilliant. There's a sign that reads: Welcome to the most modern train station in the world.


The train station's got a giant Christmas tree decorated with Swarovsky crystals. Sponsored by the Swarovsky company, of course.


The Reichstag


The world-famous sculpture of Nefertiti.


The museum is so huge, they've fitted an entire Greek temple facade in it, and more!

Love the vibe of the place, love the energy of the city.

So how was your New Years?

Merry Christmas y'all!

Merry Christmas to everybody! I miss Christmas in the Philippines. Iba talaga ang Pasko sa atin, mas warm at as close ang pamilyang Pilipino kaysa mga Aleman.

Sorry for the lack of updates, I'm in a tizzy with my new schedule. I'm still adjusting to my new and very busy schedule and my challenging job as an English teacher.

I'm gearing up for the TestDaf Prüfung on February 14th. If I pass my German language proficiency test, I can move on to university. Wish me luck! That leaves me only a month and a half to prepare. Half of the time I'm in Erfurt, half of the time in German school here in Jena, with barely enough time to prepare for both my English and German lessons. I started learning German barely a year ago. I hope I can make it!

Kann ich das schaffen? Ich muss! Naja, wenn es nicht geht, versuch ich sie noch mal, no? Mein Kopf ist immer noch ein Sprachsalat!

It's weird being at the receiving and the giving end of the classroom. I have more respect for my German teacher, and I appreciate the lengths my German students are going through to learn a new language.

Anyway, Thomas is also gearing up for graduation on February It will be an academically challenging couple of months for the both of us.

I wish everybody a blessed Christmas! Have a great one y'all!

The Naked German

I was at the Erfurt main train station yesterday, waiting for the commuter train that will take me back to Jena. I tried to pass the time by reading magazines. Boy, the Germans have quite an array of them. I loved this magazine called L-Love (a lesbian mag). I was leafing through a magazine called BRAVO (think of those teen mags back in the day, like Tigerbeat and 16, except that its in German) and was shocked to find this section called Dr. Sommer.

"Dear Dr. Sommer, Hi I am ____ from ____. I'm fourteen, but I haven't had my period yet! Is that normal? I also just hooked up with a boy, and I would like to have sex with my boyfriend someday. Can I do it even if I don't have my period yet?"

The middle of this spread had a photo girl and a boy no more than seventeen years old having sex (or acting out having sex.) The letter that accompanied the picture was from a 12 year old who wanted to ask what an orgasm was, and how does it feel like?

I was shocked speechless for a few seconds. God, I couldn't help but feel envious. When I was 12, I asked my grandpa what was a penis and a vagina? I read it in a magazine, and looked it up in the dictionary. The definition read: "The female reproductive organ," and so forth. What the fuck was reproductive? So I asked my grandpa. His curt reply: "I'll tell you when you're older." But then he never did.

We are so prudish in the Philippines that we only have one famous sex therapist, and she caters to adults. These magazines are catered to children and teens. I am in love with the sexual openess. In the Philippines, everything that has to do with sex was dirty, confined to magazines like FHM. And the Censors ban everything sexual in movies and TV. Here in Germany, I can open my TV and see something sexually explicit just by channel surfing. And nobody gives a damn.

I am very much at home with my body. As evidenced by my blog and by my cosplaying, I have an exhibitionist streak. I have sunbathed topless in a public beach in Nice, France; done the FKK beach thing; and tried not to stare too hard at the sea of breasts and uncircumsised penises when I went to the sauna here in Germany. In this way, I fit right in. The Germans, especially the East Germans, love to be naked. They are so desensitized with nudity at such an early age that it is no longer a big deal to them. People here remain virgins because it is their choice, and not because somebody said you have to remain a virgin till you die. Nobody accuses anyone of pedophilia. A section of the Dr. Sommer column claims to empower teens and promote a good body image by asking their teenaged readers to pose nude for the magazine. The poses are non-sexual, but I am uncertain whether it achieves this purpose.

God, I think my sister will have a fit when she sees this magazine. She once asked me to not tell her 7 year old daughter that Thomas and I live together without the benefit of marriage. This is from a girl who has children with 2 different dads. I think its a bit prudish and hypocritical of her, but she's raising her child, not me.

Oddly enough, even if the Germans are very open about sex and nudity, I believe that they are an emotionally straitjacketed people. They can be a lot like my sister, just in the other way around. They don't believe in lying, and are emotially hurt even with white lies, those things meant to lubricate social relations. Phrases like, "Let's get together sometime!" are considered impolite if you don't mean it. The naked senior citizens in the sauna frown if you address them as "du" and not the polite "Sie" form. You can't talk about your personal life to your close friends, it's impolite. They love their emotional distance, and you should respect that. In short, they're the exact opposite of the Americans.

I am now beginning to wonder where I should raise my future children: In the Philippines, where decent, normal folk go to Church everyday and listen to songs like Ocho ocho, or in Germany, where they'd be exposed to Schiller, Göethe, and BRAVO.

EDIT: Adam wrote a blog entry about this entry and posted a link of a scanned Dr. Sommer issue. Check it out!

What Integration Means to Me

Before I left the Philippines, Thomas said that he would not want me to live in a place with too many Filipinos. Jena, located in the former East Germany, has a lot of Vietnamese merchants and Chinese academics, but only three Filipinos. There's me, Inez, of Filipino parentage but was born and raised in Australia, and a rumored 40-something married to a German (she's like the Yeti. Her whereabouts are still unknown).

So Jena was ideal for this purpose. But why shouldn't I mix with others of my ilk?

"Well, if we want to be the globe-trotting couple of our dreams, you would have to learn how to mix with people from another culture."

Admittedly, he is right. I want to travel the world and write about it, but I don't have the perspective of someone who has seen other cultures, of someone who wants to understand what it means. I was limited to insular Manila, where everybody knew everybody.

I believe there are two kinds of travelers in this world. Someone who travels, sees the world, but interpret it according to their own perspective. Most travelers are like this. There are those of us who want to experience the world and take it for what it is, and try to adapt to what the world is like in foreign lands. I'd like to believe that I am of the latter.

I am beginning to understand what Thomas means. If I surround myself only with other Filipinos, I might as well not have left Manila.

I have read many interesting articles on the very fast assimilation rate of Filipinos in other lands. Check out these articles from Jessica Zafra, The LA Times, Howie Severino, and Torn and Frayed.

I think deep inside, even Thomas was surprised at how quickly I 'Germanized' myself to fit in. I ate their food. I found myself a job, and crammed in as much German as I could in my brain in eight months. Even Barbara is astounded at the speed I have learned German and found a job, while her sons are still trying to find their places in the sun. I am not any better than them. I am just more flexible, that's all. Germans, if anything, are renowned for their rigidness and inflexibility. Inez didn't even bat an eyelash when I said that I received my first German lesson on February 28, 2006. "You are Filipino, after all."

Why is it that Filipinos are able to assimilate so quickly?

#1 Adaptability

Kapag maikli ang kumot, matutong mamaluktot. "If the blanket is too short, learn how to bend." This Filipino saying translates to: When the going gets tough, learn how to adapt. Despite what I write about Barb in this blog, we have an amazing relationship. Thomas, for one, breathed a sigh of relief, dahil marunong akong makisama(I can get along with other people).You won't find any mother and daughter in law conflicts here. Despite her being the inflexible German that she is (and I tell you guys, you won't find somebody more inflexible than her), she and I have a better relationship than her and Thomas! I think the key here is that I recognize that this is her house. And that I have patience.

#2 The Filipino network

I think that the root of Philippine resilience is that the Philippines has no reliable Social Security System in place. Filipinos depend on their families for help. Filipinos abroad have their "extended family," other Filipinos. For instance, Inez referred me to Berlitz. This sense of stability gives Fresh Off the Boat Filipinos the freedom to be flexible.

If there are no Filipinos in sight, We turn to God.

Barbara doesn't understand why I am so keen to send money back to the Philippines once I am financially stable enough here in Germany. She even said that my mother was not a good mother because she expects me to send money back to Manila.

I explained that we have very strong family ties in the Philippines, unlike in other cultures. My mom and I bicker at the amount of money I should send back, but we never argue about why I should send money. German family ties are close, but they would never parallel how close they are in the Philippines.

# 3 Our desire to make a good impression

She also doesn't understand why I like to cook Filipino food for complete strangers and how could I be so polite to other people, even when they are bordering on being abusive.

I replied that I am aware that I am one of the very few Filipinos these people will encounter. One false move, and people will automatically assume that all Filipinos are liars, or are unreliable, or what have you. I am aware that I am an ambassador of my nation, and I believe that we, as Filipinos, should make sure that we put forward a good image, even if the people back home make it hard for us.

I believe that most of the Filipinos who could do good for our nation has left the Philippines. In my opinion, most of those who remain are a) part of the ruling oligarchy or b) those who are so poor or so brainwashed that they could do nothing but follow. People back home can't blame us for it. There are people who really need a more positive environment to grow professionally or spiritually.

# 4 Our willingness to assimilate

The good thing is, despite our show of solidarity, Filipinos abroad don't have the "clannish" mentality of the Turkish here in Germany. The argument here in Germany is that the German government has made it impossible for immigrants to assimilate into the local culture because of restrictive laws. They can live and work here, but could never be German citizens. Strangely enough, the problem seems to be limited to this social group. I don't hear complaints of 'non-assimilation' against the Filipino and the Chinese communities here in Germany. Yet, we also have the same 'non-rights' the Turkish have.

From the LA Times:

The Filipino American community is famous for putting its cultural identity behind assimilation. Though they're the second-largest Asian group in California behind the Chinese, they have never established set "Filipino" neighborhoods — the equivalent of Monterey Park for Chinese Americans or Little Saigon for Vietnamese Americans.

I disagree. If anything, Filipinos abroad, like my aunt in Las Vegas, are more proud to be Filipino than Filipinos are in the Philippines. They have none of the inferiority complexes many Filipinos back at home have developed. I went on a date with a date with a Fil-Am last year, who expressed his disappointment at how "Flip Pride" had disappointed him upon coming back. Seeing how the Philippines is at this time, I have to agree. Really, we have to rid ourselves of this sense of small-mindedness, this "Magsasaka lang po ako" mindset. Here in Germany, I do everything I can to show how rich and varied Filipino culture and history is. I don't lie to them. I don't deny that the Philippines has enormous social and political problems. But the key is, we have to show everybody that there is more than meets the eye when they think of the Philippines.

Filipinos back at home will follow rules as long as they see that the system works. But the system doesn't work. Yet we remain silent. When there is no need to question anything, Filipinos won't say anything. That is the reason why Filipinos are so law-abiding in other lands. What makes our country a mess is also what makes us obidient citizens in other countries. Hopefully, I hope that order doesn't come in the package of another dictatorship. There are a few people that I know who believe that a dictatorship would be the best thing that could happen to our country.

Mut

Manchmal wunderte ich mich. Bin ich mutig, oder nur ein Vollidiot?

Ich war in Mainz letzte Woche, und ein Kumpel von mir, Martin, schüttelte seinen Kopf. Wir haben über mein blog entry "Why I Turned the Other Cheek" gesprochen. Wie kommt es, dass ich so objektiv sein kann über das was Thomas getan hat? Warum bin ich sehr ruhig, in der Art und Weise wie ich die Geschichte erzählt habe?

Ich muss sagen: Ich verstehe Thomas. Ich bin fünf Jahre älter. Ich weiß das Warum, warum hat er das getan hat, und warum es passiert ist. Ich kann nichts dagegen machen, weil ich die Folge von einer Revanche weiß. Wie Scheiße, weil ich reif bin! Thomas ist nicht so stark wie ich und ich weiß, dass er mir niemals verzeihen könnte.

Ich war böse auf sie, das Mädchen, in den ersten paar Wochen. Aber nach und nach habe ich mir gedacht, dass sie keine Schlampe ist. Wenn sie eine Schlampe wäre, was soll ich sein? Ich bin nicht eine Heilige. Wahrscheinlich habe ich schlechtere Sachen in ihrem Alter getan.

Thomas hat mir gesagt, dass er und das Mädchen miteinander gesprochen haben und sie hat fast geweint weil sie keinen Mann finden kann und alle nur ihren Körper wollen.

Wie dumm von ihr! Hallo natürlich wenn sie macht was sie gemacht hat muss man das erwarten!

"Vielleicht könntest du ihr helfen, sie braucht jemand wie eine ältere Schwester.“

Ach, eine Schwester! Ich sehe es jetzt! Naja, aber es ist klar, sie ist ein verlorenes Lamm. Wie ein normales Mädchen in ihrem Alter, wie ich damals.

* * *

Ich bin in Deggendorf, und ich habe das Mädchen getroffen. Extrem, oder? Ich konnte es nicht vermeiden. Sie ist eine Kommilitonin von Thomas. Sie ist im Unterricht, auf jeder Party. In der Mensa. Überall.

Sie sieht wie eine low-rent Scarlett Johansson aus. Ihre brünetten Haare haben blonde Strähnen. Ihr Gesicht ist breiter als Scarletts. Ihr Körper ist auch breiter als meiner. Um Gottes willen! Wir müssen unsere Situation wie Erwachsene behandeln. Das ist mir klar. Also, kein Raufen, kein Gewalt.

Ich war auf einer Party gestern Abend, und natürlich, sie war auch da. Thomas wollte uns vorstellen. Wir müssen Erwachsenen sein, richtig?

Sie ist vor uns vorbei gelaufen. Sie weiß, dass ich es weiß. Ich weiß, dass sie es weiß. Und der Elefant ist größer geworden.

„Monique, das ist meine Freundin, Cathy“

„Hallo!“ sagte sie. Ich habe auch ein „Hallo, I’m Cathy“ ausgesprochen. Der Mut für „Hi“ zu sagen, das Sang-Froid für ihre feuchtkalten Hände zu nehmen. Ich habe es irgendwo in mir gefunden. War ihre Hand kalt wegen dem Wetter oder wegen der Situation? Ich werde niemals herausfinden.

Und der Moment ist vorbei.

Bin ich mutig, oder einfach verrückt?

Irgendwie, meine Laune hat sich verschlechtert. Es war wie, ein Auge ist auf Thomas, und das andere war auf sie. Thomas war sehr nett zu mir in dieser Zeit. In diesem Lärm, Thomas hat in mein Ohr geflüstert, „Sie braucht dein „Hilfe“ und deinen Rat, weil du viel erfahrener bist. Vielleicht kannst du mit ihr sprechen?“

Nein, das geht nicht. Du kannst so eine Situation nicht erzwingen.

I Want a Bit of Sunshine, Please!

The weather here in Germany is bleak enough to drive the cheeriest optimist insane.
It is so cold here that I scan the weather reports daily (So German) and look at the outdoor thermometer to plan my outfit. The days are so short that it's dark by 4 p.m. I once looked at the temperature outside. The thermometer said 8 degrees Centigrade.
"My, it's quite warm now, isn't it?"

I never thought I'd utter those words in single digit weather. I miss the tropics! Give me a tropical Christmas!

* * *

I was in Mainz last week for the first part of my training as an English teacher. I will be in Mainz again later, and in Deggendorf from Wednesday till Sunday. So I'm gonna be away for a week. Basically, this is my last respite before I start working and studying at the same time. I just can not remain still, can I? I studied and worked my way through university, held two jobs last year, and now this. I am so excited to be running around two cities in zero degree weather!

I am a bit worried that my German will suffer because my brain will not be able to focus on just learning one language.


Martin and I in his office in Mainz

And a shout-out to Martin. Thanks for hosting me!
* * *

I have made a list (a list!) of what I miss in the Philippines. So if there's anybody here in Germany who can do this, or give this to me, I'd be eternally grateful.

1 Walis Tambo

People, you have no idea how frustrating it is to work with German brooms. Look
here. It explains why.

2 Pansit Malabon

Out of all the Pancits I can make, this one I have no clue.

3 The Filipino People

I would love to live with people who don't complain or ask me why I would have the desire to change my shirt everyday, or my jeans weekly. People who think that hamog is bad, not good for you.

4 Cosplay

Here, I have to resort to filz-making (its German name) to satisfy my creative urges. Not bad, but it ain't cosplay.

5 My family

My nieces and nephew are growing up without me. :(

The Sun is here! Yehey!

"Get Out of My Elite, Uncaring Face"

I'm sure that my readers in the Philippines have heard about the infamous "airport incident" involving Luli Arroyo and her Mr. Padlan. People think that the First Daughter was standing up for Juan dela Cruz, and are applauding her vigorously for it.

But somehow, I feel that people are still missing the point: this constant lack of insecurity and grandstanding that we Filipinos have has again manifested its ugly head. I talked about it here. This sense of insecurity prompts out nation's leaders to blabber on in million peso-meetings, which prompts these inept boards to think "Hey, let's boost our town's pride by making the World's Longest Longganisa!", instead of "Hey, we need more industry. Let's try to raise more money by being proud of our culture and focusing on our strengths and products, without selling our soul to the devil or destroying the environment."

This small-mindedness, this insecurity, this need to feel better about ourselves by putting other people down , dooms our fragile nation. Nick Joaquin had complained about how our nation lacks ambition. I feel that we are shooting ourselves in the foot for small mercies, like having other people look up to us.

Mr. Padlan destroyed his life out of sheer bad luck? I don't think so. His HABITS doomed him. However, would he have ever been caught if he recognized the First Daughter? Kung nabuhay siya ng marangal, kung hindi siya nagpapa-bigshot, hindi siya malalagay sa alanganin.

If he lived a modest life, if he didn't feel the need to boss other people around, he ould not have been in trouble.
From the Inquirer website:

"On the flip side, the source said immigration officers have noticed that some passengers have started to appear haughty since after the story broke about Padlan's run-in with Evangeline Lourdes "Luli" Arroyo that stemmed from his reportedly rude treatment of President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo’s only daughter.

"Ang tatapang na raw ng mga pasahero (The passengers have reportedly grown bolder)," the source said in Filipino"

Appear haughty? You know these guys were merely so unused to meting courtesy.

From another Inquirer story:

"Ferdinand Sampol, the head supervisor of the Bureau of Immigration at the NAIA said the incident had prompted the BI to “study our training program once and for all.(emphasis mine)”

Talaga? Buti naman at naisipan nila.

Another issue has been rocking Singapore as well. Please read it here.

Okay here's the gist: Some thirty-something yuppie blogs about the indifference of the government to the plight of the middle-class, and of Singaporean society in general. He has the usual complaints: Job insecurity, how expensive it is to raise a child. The usual middle-class schtick. Then some bratty girl, member of an elite, intellectual program in one of Singapore's most prestigious universities, and the daughter of a Member of Parliament, slams back in her blog. Her closer is a classic: "Get Out of My Elite, Uncaring Face". Causes a sensation. Dad apologises for daughter's behaviour with a non-apology. Girl closes down blog.

This same kind of arrogance is what happens when we allow people to step on us, to feel that they are superior to us. You would think that this mentality would've grown out in the middle ages. Could it be human nature at work here? If it is, would we ever outgrow this insecurity?

I have to agree with some of Ms. Wee's views. I've seen it happen here in East Germany. Unreasonable job security during the Communist era has proved to be detrimental to the competitiveness of the ordinary East German worker. But the unreasonable nastiness of how it was said doomed her. In the end, her HABITS doomed her. If she did not blog about what she felt, subsequently exposing her superiority complex, would she have been caught?

Insecurity can do a lot of things. It provides interesting drama in a nation like Singapore. But in the Philippines, our national inferiority complex has worse complications.

Jena ist Eigentlich Cool

In a way, I am glad that I live in East Germany, namely Jena. The place has a cool, artsy vibe, without the artistic and intellectual pretentions its Manila version has.



People here are also very race-tolerant. If I was ever hassled here in Jena for my race, they were by people NOT from Jena. The large student population, and consequently large foreign student contingent, helps.

I think the reason that Jenaers are warmer and friendlier that the people in other German cities I've visited is because of it's small size (100,000 inhabitants), and their Socialist background. They actually have a name for people who don't want to mix with other people--"Asi" or asocial. If people call you asi here, that means you're unfriendly. If you don't want to hang out with your friends because of a lame excuse, then you're asi. People here think there is something really wrong with you if you want to be alone too much. It sounds very Brave New World-ish, I know, but it does remind me a lot of Filipinos. The down side is, that also means that people also like to poke their nose into your business, but it isn't as bad as it is in the Philippines.



In a way, Jena is a very different, but also a familiar environment for me. I mean, sure, it ain't as swinging as Manila, but it has its own charm as well.

I'm taking a page from The Satorialist and posting pictures of people who I thought looked cool. It was a Thursday afternoon at the City Center.



The great thing about living here is that people can wear whatever they want not because they want to look cool, or because they are in desperate need for attention. They really do it for art and self-expression.

Oh, and the in thing for chicks here nowadays are huge-ass tatoos, nipple rings, and piercings on the lower lip or on the upper lip, the piercing resembling a beauty mark mole ala-Lorna Tolentino or Marilyn Monroe (depends on who your point of reference is, I guess).

Why I Turned the Other Cheek

"It's not fair," he said.
"What's not fair?"
"That you've been with so many guys already. I lack experience!"
"No, you don't."
"Will you be mad at me if I sleep with someone else? It would be sex, only sex. You know the difference, right?"
"Hmm, maybe it would be okay. I don't know." I sighed. "How many times do we have to talk about it?"
"I just feel...insecure.Would a blow job be okay?"
"Yes, I guess...maybe. I wouldn't know what to do until it happens. Besides, it's not my fault that I've been around and you haven't!"

* * *

The bubble burst about a month ago. I was in the kitchen, puttering around. It was a warm, sunny Sunday afternoon. I exhausted after a night around town, and expecting Thomas home after spending a week at his dorm near his University, 300 miles away. I called him last night. There was a distinct tone of indifference in his voice as he inquired into how I've been, what I've been doing. It made me upset, and decided to drown my sorrows at a local bar, immersing myself in loud music, a mug of Radler beer, and in the company of Anna, a new-found friend.

He emerged from the door, freshly shaved and showered, wearing very nice clothes. Unusual from the unruly-haired Thomas I knew.

"Hi sweety. I have good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?"

"What's the bad news?"

"I got a blow job from another girl."

My insides froze. But the news was not unexpected. Call it woman's intuition, but I knew when I heard his voice last night that something was up. I steeled myself, sucked in breath, and asked, "What's the good news?"

"You're better."

Doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

* * *

In a broken narrative, he related what happened. A week-long seminar at school. A new girl in class from Slovakia. Had the hots for him. Last night of the seminar, a couple of Slovakian boys and he got together for a beer at the hotel where the Slovakians were staying. She came along. He got drunk.

Is that all? I asked. I would have readily accepted an accident of inebriation. It happens to the best of us, after all. It happened to me.

No, that's not all. He stayed the night at the hotel. Can't drive home. The girl offered her room. She has a double bed, after all. Woke up together that morning. Pillow talk.

Bang.

* * *

In my mind's eye, I saw Thomas as an eight year old. "Mommy, Mommy, look what I've done!" in a proud, lilting voice, as he leads me into a room, introducing me to his masterpiece, his handiwork: A mural of dirt on the wall.

The fool, he didn't see the logic. The story reeked of pre-determination on both parties. He said it was an accident. The fool, the fool.

* * *

In between tears and anger, I explained, as mightily and as lucidly as I could, why it was not cool. Why it was not okay.

It's so hard for me, who's at the other side of the sexual bridge, to explain to somebody from the other end that when you get to where I am, all you'll want is what you already have: A safe place for the soul.

In the end, he realized why it was not okay, how much it hurt. I felt that I loved him a little less. Thomas is mature in a lot of ways, but very immature in others. Ask anybody who knows him well.

* * *

People tell me that I should be glad, because he saw the merit of telling me about it, that he wanted to be open and honest enough, not to lie about it. I carefully weighed it in my head in the days that followed. Was it a deal-breaker? Should I let this mistake overshadow everything we have, and everything we fought for? Was it worth it?

For days I mulled on the fact that we have set about common goals. We want to build a family together. Do I still want to pursue this with him? Do I still see this clearly, in my mind's eye? Am I still willing to make this work?

And that's why I stayed.

I wish I could show him the consequence of his actions. How, even if he said it hurt him as well to see me so wounded, did not make the bodkin any less sharp. But revenge is pointless, anybody who's tried it in real life knows that.

Thomas knows that I am, in a financial, personal and career standpoint, in a better position. I am an emotionally stable woman in my mid-20s. I have the resources to find a better man. I have the money to go back to Manila to pick up where I left off. He himself said it. However, the older I get, the more morally and emotionally ambiguous things become.

Life is comprised of the choices we make. I hope I made the right one.

A Very German Birthday

A year older...a year wiser?

My first birthday here in Germany is a bit strange. It was still fun, in many respects, but it still feels strange. I feel like I am wearing somebody else's clothes. Does anybody understand this feeling?

I have great news as well: I've got a job! I am now a freelance English teacher at Berlitz. Ironic huh? At least I've got a way to support myself while studying here.

P.S. to Leslie: You'll never guess where I'm going to go for training...



My birthday table. It's what they do here. They make a birthday table with all your presents, then everybody sits down for tea. Thanks Barb!



With Thomas' best friend, Marko



We had International Food Night at the English Club the next day. My Pancit Bihon and Lumpiang Shanghai were a huge hit!



John on guitars and Daniel on the Banjo.



Sunday at the Garden House.

Thanks to everyone who greeted me!

Its a Small, Small World

Last Monday at the English Club, we exchanged our weirdest "Six Degrees of Separation" stories. The weirdest one came from John, the American who asked me to make Lumpia for him.

"A college roommate of mine when we were studying in Mississsipi was in a bar in China, talking to a German colleague of his. He mentioned that one of his college roommates in Mississipi, meaning me, was living in Germany.

Then suddenly, a girl from the other table said, `Hey! I know somebody who went to college in Mississipi and is now in Germany!' Turns out she was my 6th grade classmate in (insert random name of an American Midwestern town here)!"

Last Wednesday Barb confronted me and asked, "Cathy, did you put your vacation photos on the internet." I replied yes, why? Turns out Thomas' dad asked her, "Why do I have to see my son's vacation photos on the internet and not personally?"

A wave of panic descended upon my person. Oh My God. The Father of My Boyfriend has read my blog! With all the dirty secrets in it! The gyno stories, the dirty stories, the embarrassing stories!

It gets worse.

Thomas' dad got the tip from his younger brother, Peter, who lives in Berlin. So we call Uncle Peter and get to the bottom of it. Uncle Peter can read English. Uncle Peter can speak English. Little Cathy is screwed.

Uncle Peter says that he got the tip from his son, who is currently in China for a year-long exchange student program. He was randomly searching for his family name in Google Blogs and chanced upon a mistake I made. I made an entry that read "Thomas, me, and his mother at the *** summer house." The stranger would not automatically assume that the summer house belonged to the family. We could have been standing in front of the Arroyo summer house and nobody would assume that it was their real last name. For those who are familiar with the names Barbara and Thomas, added with that last name, it is a dead giveaway.

The son then told his older brother, who also maintains a blog, and then told their dad, Uncle Peter, and then told Thomas' dad, who in turn made the biting comment.

Now Barbara wants me to remove the only picture in this blog with her in it. I said, hello, it is my photo. I can do whatever I please with it. She counters no, it's my face in that photo, and I don't want it there. Unless she's in the witness protection program, Hell no, I'm not taking it away. But I did rectify the mistake and altered the caption. Too late though, as we are still cached in Google.

I know I cannot control the people who can have access to my blog. I need this blog as a writing outlet, especially now that I am an island in a German-speaking land. I am not ashamed of the things that I write here. I WANT people to read my stories. However, the thought that my boyfriend's family have read my Manila life entries makes me queasy. If I turn this blog into private mode (now available in Blogger Beta), what is the use of maintaining a blog at all? It kind of defeats the purpose. Alas, I have no choice now to welcome into my readership Uncle Peter, Tony, Joseph, and Thomas's dad. You are now part of an esteemed list of 10 people who read my blog.

You Always Want What You Can't Have

One of the funny side effects of living so far away from home is that you become acutely aware that you are NOT at home. Everything seems to be better from afar. Manila traffic jams? The sweltering heat? The constant buzz of the city? In Manila it annoyed me to the point of desensitisation. Now I'm all like, bring it on, Manila!

What I really took for granted, what I realize now, is the food. I had the same old Tortang Talong, Itlog na Maalat, and Guinisang Munggo day in and day out. The moment you step on foreign land, the first thing you will realize is that the food is just not the same. Sure, Eisbein is fine, and tomato soup is great when nursing a cold, but nothing beats Arroz Caldo on a cold autumn morning.

It doesn't help that I am stuck in the middle of the former East Germany, where Filipinos (and thus, Filipino food) are so hard to come by. I never even bothered to cook Filipino food in Manila. Why should I, when I could buy it at the local carinderia?

I have now made it a personal crusade to get myself an honest-to-goodness coconut grater. These people just don't see the point or the need for freshly-grated coconut and fresh coconut milk. I once asked Thomas' brother, a metalworker, to make one for me. As I described my need, he just scratched his head and asked "Why don't you just buy a can of coco milk? Why go through all the trouble?"

Two weeks ago, as I passed by the weekly Tuesday Market at the local town square, I stopped dead on my tracks: The glorious sight of fish being smoked, right there in the market, in the middle of our little land-locked state.

"Fresh Fish." I said.
"Yes?" said the vendor.
"Here?"
"Yes?"
"In Thuringen?"
"Yes!" he said, barely able to contain the twinkle in his eye.
In his glass case, I saw something that transported me back to home--Tinapa, fresh from the Baltic Sea! Oh God, the Germans have tinapa! I could barely contain my joy as I readily handed a euro for a handful of the greasy fish, which I inhaled all the way home.

I have even started making my own Itlog na Maalat. It's not so hard to make. I'm want to go "old school" and attempt to make my own Lumpia wrapper (I've seen it done) and my own Galapong (hopefully, it doesn't stick to the blender's blades.)
I realized that food continually binds me to the Philippines.

At the "English Club" that I attend here, an American member recalled that as he was a Boy Scout, the mother of a Filipino Scout member would make Lumpiang Shanghai for the group every time they would gather at the boy's house. John, the American, smacked his lips as he asked me to make some lumpia for him.

Sure, I said, I'll bring it next time. I guess I am not the only one who wants to recall the joys of his childhood.

I always try to substitute whatever ingridients I could not find here. It's really weird that no matter how hard I try, Pansit Bihon Guisado here in Germany just doesn't taste the same. I know now that Thai Patis for me tastes gross.

When it boils down to it, I have flown so far away from home, only to try to re-create my motherland as closely as I can, if only in flavor.

Seven Songs-A meme by Jac

I was tagged by Jac to do a seven song meme some weeks ago. It was hard to come up with seven songs. I am not really musically inclined, you see. The funny thing about your meme, Jac, is that it made me reflect what is it I really like about these songs. Thinking about these songs reminded me of who I really am. I realized that these songs spoke of what my personality is like. In a bad day like today (the shitty autumn weather, the shitty first day at the Thuringische Landeszeitung office), it reminded me what I had to offer the world. Thanks Jac!




Telepopmusik featuring Andrea McCluskey - Breathe

Love the music, love the video.



Hikaru Utada - Easy Breezy

God, ang galing niya no?



Imogen Heap-Goodnight and Go

It reminds me what it's like to live and fall in love in a big city. Coffee shops, books, art. Gotta love it. Imogen Heap also sang


Frou Frou's Breathe In.



John Meyer- Bigger Than My Body

This is the song that I sing to myself when life gets the better of me. I am so motivated to do something, BE something, every time I listen to this.


Moloko-Sing it Back to Me

This song was playing on my 20th birthday. It was an end of an era, a time when I would go clubbing every night. It is up there with J.Lo's Waiting for Tonight



No Diggity-Blackstreet

So effing dancable.

I've got tons, tons more in my list, like the entire Circus Album of the Eraserheads,Where The Wild Roses Go by Nick Cave and Kylie Minogue, Glorybox by Portishead, Beautiful Ones by Suede and Nirvana's In Bloom. Just got me to thinking that maybe an MP3 Player is not such a bad investment.

Who do I meme? I feel guilty for doing this...JaniPanda and Leslie!