I’ve moved

Here’s my new blog address: http://parodypastiche.blogspot.com

Still in the process of exporting my posts to blogspot, but hopefully by tomorrow everything would be finished.

Goodbye, wordpress. It was a good year and a bit.

11-20 August 2008: An Abridged Travelogue

11 August: Arrived in Singapore past noon. Stomach was grumbling with a fury. Needed to sort out accommodation problems pronto while at the airport. In a fit of desperation, I ended up booking an overpriced hotel on Orchard Road. Finally had lunch at 4-ish. Among the wonderful array of international food choices, I ended up having a Big Mac meal (when hungry I am unable to think straight and make sound decisions). Had dinner with friends – chili crabs, prawns, satay and jugs of Tiger beer. We bought more beer at the friendly neighbourhood 7-11 and hung out at Naumi hotel’s infinity pool. Got home fairly late.

12 August: Checked out of overpriced hotel and moved into a hostel two blocks away. Had Hainanese chicken rice for lunch, a dish I always have to have when in Singapore. Went down to the MOM to sort out some stuff. Headed back to hostel to rest for a bit. I made sure I was at the Esplanade extra extra early for the DCFC concert that night. Didn’t have much of an appetite so I just had a post-concert dinner of kaya toast and tea. My friends and I went back to our friendly neighbourhood 7-11 and we got more beers and a bottle of chardonnay (upon my insistence). Stuffed my face with leftover hainanese chicken rice, and this one was, without question, better than what I had for lunch. Hung out at the infinity pool again while watching the concert videos we took and almost every conceivable Youtube video with Ben Gibbard in it. When I got home it was almost sunrise.

13 August: Slept in and woke up embarrassingly late. Had another favourite dish for lunch, soy chicken with noodles. Went back to the MOM to finish off the paperwork. Headed back to hostel because I was dying of sunstroke and suffering from acute shops-fatigue-syndrome. Had riveting conversations with Chloe, a chatty girl from HK; William, an Indo-Aussie dude who worked at the front desk…interestingly, he also went to the same uni; Tristan, an Asian-Kiwi tour guide and Edgar, a Filipino from Leyte who was looking for work in Singapore. Went to bed without having dinner.

14 August: Had some more money changed. Bought my mom’s moisturizer and searched in vain for my brother’s Ipod thingo in Sim Lim Square. Went window shopping in Bugis but felt extremely annoyed that there were throngs of shoppers everywhere I went. By this time I was so sick of seeing shops (they have multiplied fifty-fold since my last Singapore trip) and people that I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Why are people always in malls, don’t they have to work?! I am beginning to hate this culture of consumerism. Headed back to hostel to pick up my luggage and bade farewell to my hostel friends. Took a cab to the airport to catch my flight to BKK. Arrived in BKK late evening and took an overpriced cab to my hotel. Dinner, shower, watched CNN for Olympics news and Russia-Georgia developments then it was bedtime for me.

15 August: Had a hearty breakfast, then headed to the shopping places in the Pratunam Area. Bought a few clothes and some corn muffins at a random street hawker then went back to hotel. I find that I increasingly lose patience with shopping as I age, and it’s just something I cannot bring myself to do the entire day. Took a nap, washed my face and then I was on my way to Siam Niramit. Took photos of the model Thai villages, had a buffet dinner, then watched the cultural show. Overall, it was an impressive production. Waited an eternity for a cab. It was terribly frustrating that when they hear me speak English, the cabbies would automatically shake their head vigorously (to say that they are not willing to drive me home). Good thing a cabbie took pity on me and so together we embarked on our thrilling adventure to find our way back to my hotel. Direction-giving was all done in sign language and map-pointing. Got home late after all the getting lost episodes and language barrier issues. Had an ice cold Singha beer, flipped through the channels for a bit then went to bed.

16 August: Went to the Jim Thompson house. Beautiful Western-inspired Thai house steeped in fascinating history. Thompson also led a very interesting life. Headed back to hotel (more sign language-ing with the cabbie again). Took a long nap, and by the time I got up it was already night fall. Had dinner at KFC (they give you real cutlery!) then tried to have a look at the shops but they were mostly closed. Went to the friendly neighbourhood internet place. Owner spoke good English.

17 August: Breakfast of champions – rice with vegetables, Thai noodles, dried fish, sausages, orange juice and fruits. Went to mass with a friend from uni. Had lunch at Siam Paragon. We then headed to the Grand Palace, because I told her that I really wanted to see their temples. My friend was in leggings and apparently this wasn’t appropriate attire for the Palace so she had to change into a sarong. We checked out the temples and pagodas and gardens (it was also my friend’s first time at the Palace; though she’s Thai, she was raised Catholic). I had an attack of sunstroke again. We walked around the Palace’s periphery and then we took a cab to her house. I met her very nice family. Her aunt and cousin went with us to Central World, and we had Vietnamese for dinner and Polar Ice for dessert (crushed ice with milk and fruits…it was to die for). Her aunt gave me the grand tour of BKK at night before driving me back to my hotel. It was a terribly long day and I was pooped and dehydrated as hell.

18 August: Had to wake up insanely early for my Ayutthaya trip. I was picked up at half past six am at the lobby. Driver picked up a handful of other people then dropped us off at the bus terminal. We got on the tour bus, and I sat next to a very nice French lady from Cannes . Her name was Sophie and she teaches geography and history at a middle school in France. First stop was Bang Pa In or the King’s summer palace. The place is a mix of European, Chinese and Thai-inspired structures. We then went to three ancient Ayutthaya temples: Wat Mahathat, Wat Lokayasutharam and Wat Na Phra Mane. The first one reminded me of Siem Reap; the ruins were completely amazing and photogs are sure to go crazy over them. One of the temple guards berated a couple for striking a funny pose with one of the headless buddhas. The guard also insisted on deleting the picture in their camera. The last temple had a massive reclining buddha covered in cloth. After the visit to the temples we were dropped off at the pier where we got on the cruise ship. We had a buffet lunch on board while taking in the sights of the Chao Phraya River’s banks. I was bone tired when I got home and I took a nap. I had a quick dinner and a quick shower before having a Thai massage. Had a bottle of Changi beer and then I proceeded to sleep very very soundly.

19 August: Checked out early and left my luggage in the lobby. The hotel has a few Filipinos in their employ. Went out to shop for a good few hours. Before I knew it, I could barely carry my purchases. Headed back to hotel and deposited my stuff. With the help of a Pinoy front desk person, I weighed my luggage – 20 for the ginormous suitcase and 7 for the carry-on (I am a packing genius). Had lunch at A&W, a restaurant of my youth. Checked the time and I still had a few hours to spare before my evening flight so I took a cab to Wat Po, the famous temple of the reclining golden buddha. I had a very deep and engaging conversation with the cabbie who drove me there – an amazing feat for a Thai who knew 50 English words at most and a Filipino who knew a grand total of three Thai phrases. The golden buddha was a sight to behold indeed – it was an imposing statue with feet made of mother of pearl. The various other temples and pagodas in the complex were quite interesting as well. After an hour or so I headed back to Pratunam to pick up my luggage and catch another cab to the airport for my flight back to Singapore.

20 August: Arrived at Changi past midnight. Six hours to go before my flight to Manila. I decide to kill time by reading Murakami, but eyelids were getting very very heavy. An Australian lady eventually sprawled herself on the seats and slept. I managed to get some shuteye before the check-in counter finally opened. With still a lot of time to spare, I figured I should grab a bite to eat. I was craving for kaya toast again (those things grow on you) and so I had two slices with a hot Milo. I bought myself the latest Foreign Affairs issue and read a bit while I was waiting for boarding time.

Death Cabbing in Singapore

Finally saw my favourite band perform live at the Esplanade two weeks ago. This is the first time that I have flown to a different country just to watch a concert – I guess that only goes to prove that I truly occupy top position in the hierarchy of Death Cab for Cutie fanhood.

I began to get all giddy like a fangirl minutes before the concert started. And when the band went on stage I felt an electric wave ripple through me. Ben Gibbard didn’t have his glasses on and he actually looked a bit rockstaresque, nearly the antithesis of his usual geekazoid self. And wow do they sound better live. I was in complete and utter awe for the next ninety minutes.

I would like to believe that I am a very subdued type of person and on regular days I behave as if I’m on heavy doses of tranquilizers, but that night I was shrieking like a deranged fangirl, it was embarrassing. I would yell my tonsils out at the beginning and at the end of each song. And dear lord I was even singing along. Loudly. I was obviously not comporting myself normally during the concert.

And the most awesome line of the night from Ben Gibbard: I’d like to thank our opening act, Dead Air. I found myself letting out a very loud chuckle. Sigh. I heart dorky jokes.

Oh and I would like to mention that there were quite a few things that night which could have potentially ruined the experience for me but didn’t, after all: Guy with the Massive Head standing directly in front of me, pretty much obstructing my view the whole night; the girl next to me who smelled like jackfruit (turns out she came to the concert by herself, the poor thing); my not-so-top-of-the-line camera and the fact that I wasn’t able to take videos. That night I resolved not to take any videos anymore so I could fully enjoy the concert, and this was the best decision ever. Sometimes we focus too much on getting the perfect angle and not having shaky arms while filming concerts that we often forget to just listen. And watch. And enjoy.

I was so relieved that the band’s Narrow Stairs songs didn’t dominate the set list, seeing as I did not like that album very much. And I was also very pleased that they played good stuff from their past albums, songs from my college days which made me all nostalgic. And the best surprise was them saving my two ultimate favourite DCFC songs for last. How wonderful was that*

*Tiny Vessels is such an eloquently beautiful song. I understand exactly what Ben was trying to say.
**It’s funny how everyday snippets of DCFC lyrics find their way to play in my head. As we speak this bit from Crooked Teeth is reverberating in my mind: I’m a war, of head versus heart/And it’s always this way/My head is weak/my heart always speaks/Before I know what it will say

Their set list: (from Junk Online)
1. Bixby Canyon Bridge (Narrow Stairs)
2. The New Year (Transatlanticism)
3. Why You’d Want to Live Here (The Photo Album)
4. Crooked Teeth (Plans)
5. Photobooth (Forbidden Love EP)
6. Long Division (Narrow Stairs)
7. Grapevine Fires (Narrow Stairs)
8. A Movie Script Ending (The Photo Album)
9. Company Calls (We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes)
10. Title Track (We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes)
11. Soul Meets Body (Plans)
12. I Will Follow You Into the Dark (Plans)
13. I Will Possess Your Heart (Narrow Stairs)
14. Cath… (Narrow Stairs)
15. Styrofoam Plates (The Photo Album)
16. Expo ’86 (Transatlanticism)
17. The Sound of Settling (Transatlanticism)

Encore:
18. Your Bruise (Something About Airplanes)
19. Title and Registration (Transatlanticism)
20. No Sunlight (Narrow Stairs)
21. Tiny Vessels (Transatlanticism)
22. Transatlanticism (Transatlanticism)

I desperately tried to get myself a shirt but the queues to the merchandise booth were massive and they eventually ran out of stuff to sell. The band had an autograph signing after the concert but I had nothing for them to sign (plus there were a bajillion people in the autograph queue) and that left me depressed as hell. Good thing a friend scored a shirt for me during their Sydney concert. Someone’s a happy camper again.

Since the place got packed cos of the autograph signing, me and my friends wanted to outsmart everyone else and so we decided to go out of the Esplanade to try and get a good view of the band members from the glass windows outside. We did get a good view of their…backs. Plan:failed.

It was truly a pity we didn’t get to interact with the band post-concert because I already had my whole We-came-all-the-way-from-the-Philippines-speech rehearsed in my head. Maybe I can finally deliver my spiel in their next one.

Tagged Again

Got tagged again, this time by the Queen Gambit. My answers to her questions:

1. What was I doing 10 years ago?

Junior high school. That is all I remember. High school was a particularly traumatic phase of my young life so I’d rather not reminisce about it.

2. What are the 5 things on my to-do list today?

1. Sleep
2. Sleep some more
3. Try to introduce some semblance of order in my shitpit of a room
4. Scour the internet for employment opportunities
5. Venture out of the house for the first time (?)

3. Snacks I enjoy:

Not a big fan of snacking. My personal food philosophy dictates that I am only allowed to have two (three, on a good day) big meals a day, and no snacks in between. However, I make exceptions when the snacks in question are actually hard to resist. I hardly say no to cheese corn chips (Doritos…yummmmm), fruit cups, Lindt milk chocolate, my friend’s Food for the gods…I have to stop now.

4. Places where I lived:

– Rizal (all my life)
– Madrid (one month)
– Reggio Calabria (three months)
– Sydney (a year and a half)

5. Things I’d do if I were a billionaire (Did I win the lottery?):

1. Put some money away in savings.
2. Travel like there’s no tomorrow.
3. Hire a personal chef/masseuse.
4. Set up a massive home theatre in my new home.
5. Share some of the windfall to family, househelp and very close friends.
6. Rest will go to my favourite charities (Greenpeace, Doctors without Borders, Amnesty International, WWF, UNICEF, Operation Smile, etc).

Farewells are draining

The packing is killing me. Sorting out all my uni paperwork is a gargantuan task and getting my finances in order is a big bitch. Fifteen million things on my to-do list. Then there’s explaining to my boss that I broke her transcribing machine and left the last interview unfinished. I probably would not have enough time to do my Bondi to Coogee walk and go back to my favourite museums. I wouldn’t have enough time to say goodbye to everyone either. That, or THEY wouldn’t have enough time. This day alone so many people have cancelled I’ve already lost count. I moved heaven and earth to keep tonight free so I can have a nice dinner at home and spend quality time with someone I particularly wanted to bid farewell to, then I get that disappointing phone call. Story of my life. I think I should just spare myself the agony and just get on the plane without going through all that farewell jazz. I was never good with goodbyes anyway. My heart rips into tiny little shreds every single time. Note to self: do not get attached to people and places again.

Holiday from myself

If my current state of mind were a song, it would be that obscure one by an equally obscure band called Minibar. It’s so obscure that I think there’s only five people in the world who know it. It’s basically about someone wanting to have a holiday from himself, asking for “some time away from being me”. Well, isn’t that precious? It even feels as if I wrote the song myself. I googled the lyrics and the last bit is totally reflective of my emotional state at the moment. I seriously need a holiday from myself. I’m so sick of being me.

You who never arrived

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don’t even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me– the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected
turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods-
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house–, and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me.
Streets that I chanced upon,–
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled,
gave back my too-sudden image. Who knows?
perhaps the same bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening…

Idiot

I amaze myself at how unbelievably stupid I could be sometimes. The last couple of days I have proven to myself that I am truly capable of sinking to the depths of extreme stupidity, it’s not even funny. Now some relationships are strained, and it is entirely of my own doing.

To speak or not speak

My mother tells me that I started to speak earlier than most infants. Everyone in my family attests to this fact actually, and my dad even has the audio tapes to prove how irritatingly loquacious I was as a child. My mom recalls how frustrated she was that I just would not shut up while she was pregnant with my younger brother and I would keep following her around, bombarding her with my annoying questions.

My parents took such great pride in my talkativeness that they would let me mingle with their adult friends all the time. Thus I grew up always having adult conversations with actual adults. At a tender young age, I already discovered how wonderful it was to engage in verbal calisthenics.

At some stage in my adolescent years though, I just decided to not talk. I thought it might be more fun to keep to myself and only really speak to friends I felt comfortable with. Once in high school, a teacher had to sit my mom down and informed her how I never spoke a word in class while I would hand in pretty decent written work. My mom then asked me how this could be possible when, growing up, I was such an irrepressible and argumentative kid.

In college, I reverted to my former self. I was still painfully shy but I did try to be as sociable as I can. I was the president of an organisation and this role involved lots and lots of talking, and I think I did fairly okay. I made plenty of acquaintances, but my real and true friends were just a handful. I always preferred to operate that way.

I’m in my mid-twenties now and I’m as silent as ever. Last year I think was my worst year in talking. As a result, I met less people, and the few people I did meet got to know me at a highly superficial level. I just lost faith in words and talking. But more than anything, I guess I just became overly wary of people.

I remember how I spent most of last year by myself, in my room. I was leading a loser lifestyle extraordinaire. I hardly spoke in class, but if it would make a huge difference in my grade, I would. I became very business-like with classmates. I would study in my room, go to class, run back home, stay in my room again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

One night while walking home from a late evening class, I was about to cross the street. The red pedestrian light was flashing and I attempted to make a run for it. I stopped in midstep though, and I realised that I was such a moron for wanting to rush home just so I could lock myself up in my room again.

Late in the second semester of last year, I began to have some semblance of normalcy again in my life. I started to slowly talk to people again and drum roll please…make new friends. It’s amazing how the few good friends that I have at the moment all made the heroic first move to befriend my pathetic self. A friend told me that I seemed like such a colossal snob and that I really gave off the vibe that I wanted to be left alone, but he still took it upon himself to try very hard to smash my wall of ice. I’m happy he did.

I still adopt a policy of silence when I hang out with people I barely know, but once I get comfy with someone, I surely can unleash a mouthful. I like being quiet and reserved. It gives me a chance to observe people more keenly and prevent myself from saying empty and stupid things. And isn’t listening so much more fun since it involves far less energy compared to talking?

This is pure gold

More stuff from my most favourite poet in the world…

[somewhere i have never travelled]

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands