Awesome Wedding March!

This has got to be the best wedding march EVER! What a great way to celebrate a relationship! I heard that it was featured on the Today show.

Class and Prejudice

One of the things that I took for granted growing up was household help. One of the benefits of being middle class in a third world country is that labor is cheap, and for 50 euros a month, a lady, sometimes two, lived with us and took care of the children and the house and the cleaning. Granted, sometimes things get stolen, or the occasional maid runs away with the construction worker next door. However, the benefits outweighed the dangers. We never had to worry about food. The house was always tidy. The kids didn't need daycare, my mother could go to work. There was someone in the house 24/7. We eventually lost the keys to the front door and never bothered to replace them, since, well, there was always somebody in the house. If a maid stole something, or is under suspicion of having stolen something, we fired her. That was that.

Over the years, a family has served us on and off. It started with a woman in 1987, who then referred us to her cousin when she got married...we eventually adopted the daughter of one of these women, she went to college during the day and cleaned and cooked at night. She works at an office now, a job that my mother placed her in. That is called moving up. Two girls from her little barrio now cook and clean for my parents. One of the girls looks after my nephew and nieces.

Reading The White Tiger reminded me of the shock I felt when Thomas pointed out that I treated the help like dirt. I never shouted at them or abused them. But as he pointed out, they were invisible to me, noticed only when I needed something. I mean, I thought I was being kind, I never really gave my treatment of the maids second thought. Leaving the Philippines and coming back made me see things with fresh eyes. By then, I was used to doing the household chores myself, and I felt almost embarrassed when I asked a maid to hand me a spoon, or when she would wordlessly pick up my barely used drinking glass. Almost.

I am aware that things work differently there than they do here in Germany. There are times, times like now when the baby is coming, that I wish that I could hire a yaya to take care of the baby while I go work. But mostly, I am kind of happy that I do my own housework here. I didn't have maids when I moved out of my parents's house when I was 23, but the satisfaction and appreciation of seeing a clean window done by my own hands didn't hit me until I moved here.

It is a very different mentality. Over here, people would call it slave labor. In the Philippines, people think that they are doing a good thing by giving somebody a job. In a country with high unemployment and population, these two things coming together provide this economic set-up. In the novel, the boss, Mr. Ashok, was seen as "softened" by the West. I sometimes think if it was actually a good thing that I began to see the maids as human when I went back in 2008. Thomas said that it isn't such a good idea to treat the maids as equals, since this will never work in a country like the Philippines. A country where class determines whether you can speak English like an American or not speak English at all. This fact spells the difference between staying where you are or moving up in society. It is telling that all of my acquaintances and friends in the Philippines talk like me and dress like me, while the rest of the world equates Filipina= domestic helper. Isn't it enough that they eat the same food as you do and have their own room and own fan and own toilet, he said?

I still don't know the answer to that.

Living in Conscious Faith

Coming from a Catholic country, I have always took Catholicism for granted. I went to Catholic schools and went to a Catholic university. I studied the Bible and Salvation History in school. My family is also Catholic, but they weren't strict about it. I grew up with a Catholicism that recognized that the Church and the humans who serve in it are not perfect. I participated in a lot of Church activities. I worked in a Catholic magazine and worked for the press office of the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines.

I did, and do, a lot of things that many people who criticize Christians as "hypocritical." I believe in contraception, I don't think that pre-martial sex is bad. Reading the Old Testament convinced me of that (Read about Lot's daughters). I believe that women should be priests and that although I would never do it myself, women should have the right to get an abortion. The Church making a big hoo-ha about people having free will to choose sin over good is a principle I think the clergy should put into practice. Homosexuality? Yes, the Bible says it is immoral. But I think that the story of David, God's favored, and Jonathan has been swept under the rug. Really, the homosexual subtext in that story just blows my mind. If you tell me to get my mind out of the gutter, please re-read that story.

I was Catholic because everybody was Catholic. I went to Church, but I did my own thing on the weekdays. I still do. I took it for granted.

Moving to East Germany, living with atheists, and having an atheist for a husband was for me a puzzle, at it was a revelation. One doesn't need religion to be an upright person. All religions can get along, as long as there is mutual respect and understanding. It hurts me sometimes when atheists challenge me to tell them what makes us better than them, because I don't think like that. I don't think that I am better than them. I just have found my personal truth, a belief that I believe in. It is not something that I have to, nor want to defend, because it is something that every person should discover for themselves.

Living in Germany made me think long and hard about being a Christian. Why am I a Christian? Do I want to be a Christian? Can I believe and worship my God in another religion (say, Universal, Wiccan or Lutheran)? Do I want to stay Catholic, despite the Church's flaws?


I spent a week in Taize in France, trying to answer those questions. It is a village an hour north of Lyon in the French countryside, an ecumenical retreat area run by the celibate Taize brothers. I ate prison food, spent three times a day in Church, and went to Bible study with a great bunch of people, from different countries and different Christian faiths. We talked about the Bible, argued about what Jesus's word really meant to us, and how they relate to us in the present day. We had a great moderator, Brother Jean-Marie. I was surprised to learn that there are a lot of Protestants are more dogmatic than Catholics about certain rules, like divorce.

Being there was like being in a Christian paradise, where everybody got along, and had civilized discussions about our differences. We discovered that we were more similar than we were different. As for my questions, I realized that I want to remain Christian. I will leave the Catholic question as it is right now. I will remain Catholic, but I will not, as I have not, closed myself from attending services from other Christian religions. I discovered that the thing that turns me off the most is when a Church damns people from other faiths, even if they are also Christian. I find that choosing to be Christian is really more liberating than just being one. I hope that people will respect this decision just as I respect their decision to believe in what they believe in.

I Now Pronounce You Mr. and Mrs. D.

We were not sure how to do the name thing when we got hitched. I kept my name, he kept his. But then he decided to take on my name. His reasons: I have a cooler name that is unrelated to hooves. Foreigners could not pronounce his name, and Germans could never spell it correctly, either. That's why he was so impressed that I got his name right three weeks after our first date.

As of yesterday, Thomas H. is Thomas D. Yes, it's official. We have the papers and everything.

Changing your calling cards and e-mails must be a bitch. Poor fella.

Auf Die Mischung Kommt Es An: Amiexpat's Heidelbeer Eierkuchen

I wrote in Tagalog that ever since my fourth month of pregnancy, all I could think about is food. I dream of food, I miss the food that I grew up with. I even have a list of foods that I want to eat taped on my fridge, and I cross out once I've cooked something. Ironic, since I couldn't stand the smell off cooking food during my first and second month. It saves time because I already know what I want to eat days before. I think that making them myself is healthier than buying them, because a lot of elbow grease goes into making them, canceling out the calories ingested. Or that is what I like to tell myself.

One of the things I miss is the pancakes at Pancake House, a Filipino chain that I think is like the American I-Hop. They are soft and fluffy, like a cloud in your mouth. Thomas hates them, he hates American pancakes in general. I think it's because he didn't grow up eating them. Thomas and I could never agree whether American of European pancakes are better. I still drizzle maple syrup all over my pancakes. I try making American pancakes once in a while but I end up eating them all by myself. I make those thin European pancakes instead since we both eat them.

It took me at least 6 months to find the perfect recipe for European pancakes. I've downloaded at least four European pancake recipes. The American pancakes I've tried were not fluffy enough or tasted weird, the European pancakes were also a hit or miss affair. They were either too leaden or moist inside because I've put in too much water, or too dry because of flour.



About a week ago, I found the perfect recipe for European pancakes, and I have been making them since. Finally. I've been making pancakes at least once a week lately because I've been craving them and because Thomas is on this weird Schlank im Schlaf Diet, which says he can only eat carbs in the morning. His classmate recommended it to him after saying that he has gotten chubbier since he got married. I guess I feed him too well!



Amiexpat's Heidelbeer pancake recipe is a perfect compromise between European and American pancakes. They're fluffy, like American pancakes, an thin, like European pancakes. Win-win! Next time, I'll mix the Heidelbeer with the batter, because the berries tend to burn when I flip them over, and sometimes the berries stick to the turner (?), leaving little pockmarks in the pancakes where the berries used to be.

Is It Time to Bring the Bush Back?

I haven't been to the landscaper since I left Barcelona. That was seven months ago. It's not that I've been lazy or anything like that. It's just that Barcelona spoiled me. If you want more bang for your buck when it comes to intimate hygiene, Barcelona is your place. Where else could you get a professional wax job, a REAL professional wax job, for 15 euros? They even give you a free disposable g-string in case you come in granny panties. They are so fast it is almost painless, and I have been so pleased with the results that during my second appointment,I gave them a 10 euro tip.

In the city where I live, the wax jobs cost almost double that, and the waxers enter go into the job half-blind. They aren't really waxperienced when it comes to bikini waxing, since Germans either shave or go au naturel. There are a lot of these earth mother types in East Germany, so this is not a normal service offered by these salons.

The thought of having to hand over 25 euros plus tips to an inexperienced waxer is enough for me to bear the occasional pulling and discomfort in my underpants. My husband said that he likes me either way, although he expressed his preference for a landscaped lawn. But the thought of parting with that much money for a lousy landscaping job is still a strong enough deterrent for me.

I spent the weekend in Berlin with a visiting friend from Manila, and we went to the Helmut Newton Museum. He did his best work in the late '70s-early '80s, when the bush was in full force. When the girls started waxing/shaving, Newton invested in merkins, one of which was also on display in the Museum. Bush, in all its glory, did not look half as bad in the photos as I perceive them to be in person. I used to be disgusted with body hair, since Asians have so little of it. Those pictures of girls doing cartwheels, bush sticking out, sleek looking panthers save for that tuft of hair... I guess living in Germany has desensitized me to body hair more than I care to admit.

I would probably still go to the salon for a landscaping job, but a part of me is saying that a little bush isn't as bad as I think it is. I'm curious how many girls have decided to bring the bush back. Do men prefer the bald eagle or the bush look? Since we (I) decided to do this because I thought men liked it in the bedroom. I think men got into this whole "you have to wax!" thing because of porn, and I suspect this is also the reason why in my experience (non-Filipino) men have been asking their wives and girfriends to try out anal.

Pipette Dreams

I had very vivid dreams as a teen. Dreams of flying, of war, dreams that stay and haunt me in my waking hours.

My dreams react to stresses of everyday life. I once was in a relationship that I felt sucked the life out of me, and I swear, my vivid dreams in color turned black and white. While working at a dead end job, I had a scary dream of bouncing around a windowless white room that had no exits.

They stopped in my mid twenties. I probably found some peace, or maybe my hormones stopped working overtime. In any case, I still dreamt, but they were forgettable. I would have to write them down after waking up if I wanted to remember.

For some reason, I have had really intense nightmares ever since becoming pregnant. These dreams usually involve family members being tortured or attacking me. Thomas would wake me up because I would howl or cry in my sleep. I once woke up with a gasp after dreaming that my aunt was about to poke my eye out with a pair of scissors because I said something silly. Not fun.

Last night was the strangest dream yet. I dreamt that I had my baby, and my baby was a blue toy pipette. It was a stuffed toy, with a blue cushion of a head and a glass tubed body like in mercury thermometers. It had a face and a small cartoony mouth. I remember feeling horrified and mystified. Why is my baby a pipette? It made crying baby sounds out of its mouth. I didn't want to touch it, it scared me. When I finally touched it, it felt like a baby, with baby warmth and baby smell. I cradled it in my arms, and the body widened. Every time I looked away and looked back at the baby, it slowly transformed into a real baby. At the end it looked like a real baby, and then I started breastfeeding.

I was so disturbed by this dream that I told everybody I met today about it because telling people makes me less scared. Now I am telling you guys because I want to feel less scared of my dream.

Never Be The Same

I'm really worried about something that a lot of mothers seem to dismiss as trivial.

I'm worried about my vagina.

You see, I really like my vagina. It's nice-looking. A gynecologist even complimented me on it.

What's gonna happen to it after I press a bowling ball out of it? It's never gonna be the same, no matter what anybody says. It's gonna change, for better or for worse.

I've been reading up on this pregnancy business. Look behind all the BS of you couldn't imagine your life before children. I am going to be a mother and I am willing to go through it, but make no mistake, I am an individual and plan to remain that way. My sexuality is a very important part of my life. It sounds selfish, but please, the desire to have children outside of adoption is not an altruistic act.

I want to have this child, but I hope Kegels do as they're promised!

Amiexpat's Blankenhainer Kirschkuchen Challenge!

I took Amiexpat's Blankenhainer Cherry Cake Challenge, and I almost blew up my mixer because of it!

The first part of the recipe said that I should beat the yolks with sugar until it was "foamy." Since I had no experience beating up yolks to a foam, I thought that It would puff up like egg whites. I beat the eggs with my mixer a good fifteen minutes, and got something that looked like pancake batter. Is it supposed to look that way?

I googled "beat yolks foamy" and I found out that foamy egg yolks should be lemony-colored. I long passed that stage! I guess I overbeat the yolks. Oops. My mixer was really hot to the touch and smelled like rubber, and I didn't want to use it to beat the whites, but I needed my mixer. Thank God it didn't explode on me.

It was a breeze to do the rest. What I liked about the cake was that it didn't call for any shortening or leavening agents, and I was curious how THAT would turn out.

I don't have a cherry pit remover. I used 350 grams of preserved cherries and 150 grams of fresh cherries that I pitted myself. Like Amiexpat, I basically split the cherries in half with a paring knife and chucked it in. I baked it for 30 minutes. The cake didn't look ready at the 20 minute mark as suggested in the recipe, and judging from Amiexpat's experience, it seemed like the right thing to do.

What I liked about the cake was that it wasn't so sweet. I sprinkled brown sugar over the cake, and it really needed that extra sweetness. I had some batter left over and put it in a separate baking pan, but didn't sprinkle sugar over it, so it wasn't as sweet as I wanted it. The crushed almonds gave the cake a nice crunch and texture, I think I'll use more ground almonds in my recipes.

The consistency of the cake was actually more bread-like,kind of dry. I think that it had to do with me overbeating the yolks. I'll try to go easy on the mixer next time.

Ang Hirap Magbuntis

Actually, I shouldn't be complaining. I am having a relatively easy pregnancy, I think. Ang ayoko lang ngayon eh mukha akong butete pag nakatagilid! Ang weird tignan. My check-up last week showed that everything is ok, but me being so paranoid, I'm worried because I couldn't feel the baby kick and I'm already on my 18th week.

And right now I have such weird cravings, I've become a magician in the kitchen. Ang dami kong cravings, late ata akong naglihi. Nung umpisa hindi ako makapag-luto kasi di ko ma-take yung amoy. Ngayon naman luto ako ng luto, Kanina nagluto ako ng miso soup with tempura kasi ang tagal ko nang nag-ke-crave nun! Ang maganda lang nito eh may listahan ako sa pridyider ng mga gusto kong kainin, kaya nakaplano na ang kakainin namin a few days before. Time saving. Napabili ako tuloy ng fishballs ng hindi oras kasi bigla kong na-miss yung mga fishball na nabibili sa Paseo de Roxas. Bukas naman Guinataang Mais. Tapos take two ng cuchinta. Gumawa ako ng cuchinta nung isang araw ang labas pitsi-pitsi, uulitin ko kasi yung pinaka-huling batch mukhang cuchinta na. Ang hirap kasi sa Erfurt pipito lang kaming Pinay, kaya lahat ng lutong Pinoy sariling sikap.

Ang masaklap yung German foods na favorite ko hindi ko makain. Tulad ng smoked salmon. Iwas din ako sa soft cheese pag hindi pasteurized. Ilang din akong kainin ang blue cheese. Hindi rin ako makakain ng sushi kasi bawal ang raw food. Kaya guess what I've been wanting to eat these past few months? Haay, pag nanganak ako ang una kong kakainin ay sushi! Naku, sabi pa naman ni Mama huwag daw akong kumain ng kumain kasi mahirap manganak kapag lumobo yung tiyan ko ng husto. Eh ano namang magagawa ko kung ang laman ng utak ko sa araw at gabi eh yung kakainin ko sa mga susunod na araw? Normal ba ito?

Little Miss Suzy Homemaker

One common denominator of the expat experience is missing the food one grew up with. It is the only reason why I continue to pick up Yakult from my local supermarket. It's brand familiarity, and I suspect I wouldn't be so loyal to the brand if I were back home.

There are things that I miss so much right now, especially at this time, that I cannot have. Roast pig or lechon, which Anthony Bourdain raved about, and pancit malabon. Normally, I would not even touch lechon at a fiesta banquet back home. Too fatty, and I never liked the sauce, which is made of ground pork liver. Now I think about it like a woman obsessed.

Many expats have learned to deal with this by making things from scratch. In the Philippines I had the luxury of a maid, and the fact that my favorite rice cake is readily available at the next street corner. Though I cannot make fresh coconut juice, (please don't tell me you can get it in Germany, it is just not the same) I can occasionally savor fresh Philippine mangoes, a luxury. I have made my own pancakes, french toast, mac and cheese casserole.

I actually have become really good at cooking Pinoy and German food, using only fresh ingredients easily sourced in Germany, without relying on mixes. Since there aren't any Filipino stores in a 100 mile radius, the Chinese and Vietnamese shops supply me with things that we have in common.

I have learned to make a really mean Lumpiang shanghai, Suman sa Latik, and cook munggong guisado, Chicken Afritada, Chicken curry,Guinataang manok, Pinoy style sweet spaghetti (with hotdogs!) and even Itlog na maalat. If you need to make palitao I can whip up galapong for you.

My successes in the kitchen have prompted me to be more adventurous, and now could even make sauce hollandaise from scratch, even if I could get it here store bought. Today I made my own pork stock, and my own tomato sauce to make chicken afritada. Thomas and I both noticed how much more pronounced the flavors were. I think it was the home made stock and sauce. It kind of took me aback today to realize that I'd rather eat jam that I made myself rather than buying it from the store.

I have always liked to cook and bake, but now, seeing myself turn into Martha Stewart, I feel a weird sense of accomplishment.

The Good, The Bad, and the Superstitious

Growing up in the Philippines, I've been surrounded with stories of ghouls and goblins lurking in the night, evil spirits possessing an entire class of schoolchildren (it even makes the 6 o'clock news back home), and white ladies floating and appearing on video (it even made the pages of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, the country's most respected broadsheet).

I thought Germany, with its emphasis on logic and reason, would be different. Boy, was I wrong.

I lived with my MIL during my first months here, and though she went to college, she came from a farming family in the boondocks, and she held on to a lot of old wives' tales from her childhood. Things like drafts from windows left ajar and going out with wet hair in winter could give you a cold, and such nonsense.

In the Philippines, before the advent of ultrasound, people would guess the baby's gender by looking at the mom. If a woman is "blooming" (read, glowing or very attractive), it means that she's having a girl. If a woman is less attractive while pregnant, and has a darker neck, elbows, and armpits, then it's a boy.

Here in Germany, my MIL has, what I feel, a more patriarchal belief. She says that my skin looks rougher now than when I was not pregnant, and concluded that I am having a girl "because a girl takes away her mother's beauty." Ouch. It lends a more sinister, Snow White and her evil stepmom spin to my pregnancy, something I would rather live without.

And there is this fear of flying. I would really, desperately want to have my mom be here for my birth. I don't want to have my baby with just my MIL around. To be quite honest, I don't trust her and I don't really want her around my happy day, for reasons I don't want to elaborate here. But if my mom comes here, I would have to foot the bill, cos she's paying the mortgage of a house that my family just bought. Thomas says that I would have to choose between her coming here or us flying back. And for the both of us, we'd rather fly back and escape the winter.

The moment I announced I was pregnant, and told one of my classes I wanted to fly back in December (my baby would be two months old by then), they all said that it would be a horrific mistake, that it isn't good for my baby, and my baby's ears will pop and I would render it deaf, So I looked it up on the internet, and it was quite interesting what I found. When I typed up the question in German, I got this doom and gloom prognosis from German parents, but German pediatrician websites said that it was all right. In English websites, they were so relaxed about the whole thing that they only said that if you want to be really sure about it, wait until the 2nd month, when the baby's immune system is strong enough to fight whatever bugs are floating around in the cabin.

I've always hated it when other people try to impose their beliefs on others, and that's why though I am Catholic, I've been against preaching and "spreading the Good News." And when other people impose their superstitions on me and pass them on as medical fact, it makes me angry. Why frighten a pregnant woman unnecessarily?

14 weeks

"Everything seems healthy. All the bones seem to be in place. See that? That's the leg bone. Here's the hand. All in place. These four are the bones of the middle finger. All five fingers are formed."

"Wow. How big is it?" I ask.

"About six centimeters." I look quizzically at Thomas. With his thumb and index finger, he makes a gesture. "It's about this big," indicating a gap of about three inches.

"Oh. Look, it's emptying its bladder," says my Frauenarzt. I find myself fascinated, not at all disgusted, that someone is peeing in my insides.

It hits me that something that is not completely a part of me is inside me. This thing, wriggling, kicking. It has its own thoughts. It is not me, yet a part of me. I wonder if it reacts to my thoughts.

"I can't get the baby in the right position for the screening. Hopefully we could get it to lie on its back?"

With two fingers, I gently thump on my belly. It moves, and we have our money shot.

"Ah, perfect." he says.

Thank God.

Filipino in Deutschland Sucht den Superstar

Filipinos or half-Pinoys/Pinays have been successful in shows like American Idol and Britain's Got Talent. Now, it's Marc Jentzen's turn to conquer the German version of AI and BGT, Deutschland Sucht den Superstar.

Born in Bonn from a Filipina mother and a German Father, he had a rough childhood. His parents divorced as he was 2, and spent a year in an orphanage when he was 14 because his mom had to fly home to care for her ailing mother.

Filipinos in Germany, please vote for Marc!

HInahanap-hanap Kita, Manila

For some reason, these past few weeks have been rough on me. I have been so homesick that this is the first time I've considered leaving everything behind and just go back from whence I came.

I don't know if it was the weather, or a certain bit of news that I've received. I just want to get out of here so bad.

Do I just want out of my city? Or out of Germany? Do I really want to go back, or just go somewhere else?

I wonder if this is something fleeting, or is this something real? Do all expats go through this?

Mga Kababayan

I feel so sad to hear that one of the greatest rappers of my childhood, FrancisM, has passed away. His song "Mga Kababayan ko" (My Countrymen) was THE anthem of my childhood. He was only 44!

And he didn't talk about pussy or bitches or stuff like that. He talked about love, peace, and country. He was a devoted family man with 8 (!) kids!

Wow, R.I.P man. Peace.

Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations Philippines!!!

Goddamn, I want to go back home RIGHT NOW! I miss Philippine food!

Walang sinabi ang Spanferkel dito bai! Lechoooon!!!











I think the problem if Philippine identity is nicely described here. This is the problem: Filipinos integrate themselves pretty quickly in a new environment. With acute regionalism, worse than in the US or here in Germany, and many different languages, there is no one "Filipino identity."

But I really want me some of that pig.

P*tangina Nakakagigil!

Pasensya na kung napa-mura ako. Filipinos, have you seen this BBC documentary? I am so ANGRY at Lito Atienza. And please, Joseph Estrada is not some sort of martyr! Yes, he was targeted and became a victim of the church. He may not have toed the Church line, but he is just such a hypocrite! What, the allegations of corruption aren't real?! He's an Ateneo boy after all (Ateneo is the Jesuit-run school in the Philippines where the rich send their kids to study), a self-styled man of the masses without actually being one of them!

That's it. You know, I really believed in the Church. I toed the line. But when you see the Lito Atienza say that the leaders have to decide for the people, in a country where leaders exploit the people, you just have to wonder when is it going to end. Looking back at my life working in politics, I am glad of the opportunity Europe has given me, for opening my eyes to reality. That I am no longer part of the problem.

Tomorrow, I am going to renounce Catholicism. I still believe in the Catholic God, but the religion has nothing to do with me or my money.

Who Wants to Read "Wetlands"?

I was waiting for the bus in the train station bookstore when I saw the English version of "Feuchtgebiete," that raunchy, raunchy novel about love, longing, and avocadoes.

I have a high tolerance level for dirty words, but even Feuchtgebeite was too much for me. I had to lay it down for three weeks and mustered all my courage to finish the damned thing.

It seems that instead of going for the subtlety, the translators seem to have gone the "American Pie" route. Same shocking pink cover, but "Wetlands" was written in '70s porn font superimposed over half an avocado.

The translation seemed clunky and literal. I can imagine a German teenager talking like Tina Mehmel, but I can't imagine an English-speaking teenager talking like the Helen Mehmel in Wetlands. The English syntax was lifted from the German, it seems. I would like to buy it, just to compare, but I don't know if I could stomach reading the book again.