Leaky Faucets

Sometimes—and this certainly depends on my mood—I think I could live the life of a cloistered nun, if not for the requirements of being Catholic and female.  There is a group of such nuns living in a convent near our house; they are friends of my in-laws and often come to the house.  I saw a few of them the other day at JY Square Supermarket in their red habits.  I know they walked the mile or so to get there, which I would enjoy if I weren’t in a hurry, though I wonder if those habits are comfortable in this heat.    I would certainly enjoy the days spent reading and studying, and most importantly not socializing.  Like I said, it depends on my mood.  If it is sour, I sometimes dream about getting away from everyone.  This would be one way to do it.

Often I find myself completely perplexed by the randomness of things in the Philippines.  You see things that you just do not expect to see.  Take, for instance, the way jeepneys (the predominant public transportation vehicles, for those non-Filipino readers) are decorated.  The other day I saw one that was painted with the logo of the Bristol City Football Club from England accompanied by the proclamation “Bristol City FC is the Best.”  Just find it strange that there would be a large fanbase for this particular football club.  Admittedly I am not so knowledgeable about English football but I do know that Bristol City is not as well known as Manchester United and others.  Another jeepney I recently spotted was emblazoned with the names of various canals.  Suez Canal, Panama Canal, etc.  What is that about? 

My understanding is that the jeepney drivers can decorate their vehicles any way they choose—some are beautifully painted, others are hideous.  Some advertise particular products or bands such as Coca-Cola (without compensation I assume.) But, what, this guy is a fan of the Suez Canals?  I’d really like an explanation on this.

The above picture, taken today on Banilad Rd. in Cebu, is an example of a jeepney decked out in corporate logos.  I’m quite sure that Panasonic and Michelin did not pay for the advertising.  (Pictured in the foreground is Ana’s unoccupied carseat.)

I’ve noticed that people here don’t really say “Bless You” when someone sneezes. No matter how forceful the sneeze usually draws no reaction. This is surprising as it is a religious country and the “Bless You” implies that God blesses you. Although, it’s not really a religious thing; it’s a courtesy thing. I’m just used to hearing it in the States even when a complete stranger is the sneezer.

I for one still offer a “Bless You” when I hear a sneeze. I just can’t help myself.  Some people appreciate it and others just ignore it.  Perhaps only priests are allowed to offer any kind of blessing here.

Sometimes I wish I had a camera with me, but unfortunately I rarely do.  Take yesterday for example.  We were at SM Mall.  I was waiting for Aya at the top of the staircase on the 3rd floor.  This family walks by—a young mother with three little kids.  I noticed one of them had a familiar symbol on his t-shirt.  One that you might have seen in Nazi Germany.  I was taken aback.  Then I remember a few months ago seeing a swastika grafitied on the wall somewhere.  I was surprised then as I was yesterday.  There are few Jews in the Philippines and probably not too many white supremacists.  I was told by a family member that it doesn’t really mean anything here like it does in the U.S. or Europe.  Just a symbol.  It has no deeper meaning here.

But this t-shirt that the kid in the mall was wearing went further than just a symbol.  It had a rather large swastika accompanied by the words “WHITE POWER.”   Actually kind of funny when you consider that the wearer of this shirt was not in fact white.  I don’t really think Hitler or Adolf Eichmann would have had a special place in their hearts for Filipinos as they are typically neither blond nor blue eyed.  What made this even more amusing was the fact that this kid could not have been more than five years old.  And his mother?  Completely oblivious, I have to assume.  Where did they buy this shirt?  Probably at a second hand store somewhere in Cebu.  It’s really amazing.  I don’t think anyone else in this country pays attention to the message on others’ t-shirts.  No one else was staring at this kids’ back with their mouth agape.  Wear that shirt in a mall in the States and you’d have a problem on your hands.  But I guess a shirt is just an article of clothing here.  This is certainly not the first time a t-shirt has caught my eye here, but it is certainly the most memorable one.

Thank God I’m so curious obsessive about tiny details; otherwise, I’d have nothing to write about.

Come on, I know I’m not the only one who has taken part in a little cyber-voyeurism.   Who among us hasn’t wondered from time to time what so-and-so is doing, that person you haven’t seen in 10 years.  20 years.  If you wanted to find info about someone online you did a Google search.  Hopefully, their name was unique.  John Smith or Mary Jones-forget about it.

But now, there’s Facebook.  For all you cyber-voyeurs out there, Facebook makes your jobs so much easier, greatly streamlining the process.  Not only that, but it adds legitimacy to your curiosity.  In reality, I haven’t really spent too much time thinking about many people from my high school since, well, high school graduation.  But, that said, now that I see all of the familiar names again, many of which I’d long forgotten about, the urge to see what these fine folks have been up to rears its head.  So, thanks Facebook for making things easier.

It’s been three weeks since my last update on our trip-a reflection of how little time I had for things like blogging because of parental duties and our hectic social calendar as we tried to see as many people as we could.

We’re finally back in Cebu still trying to shake off the stubbornly lingering effects of jetlag.  Almost gone now after three days at home.  It’s strange referring to the Philippines as home and the U.S. as a vacation destination.  My world is a bit upside down for now but I’m coping.

So let us rewind a little bit here.  We spent about ten days at my mom’s house in Cleveland-which we needed after the New York City debacle.  Ana was thoroughly happy there.  She had the entire newly carpeted basement to run around with no hazards and tons of toys.  She spent hours down there every day and never fussed.  Of course, we also took her out.  We went for walks around the neighborhood and hung out in the backyard.  She had her first visit to the zoo in Cleveland.  Unfortunately, the heat was oppressive that day and many of the animals-including the tigers-took to lazing under a shady tree.  Not too exciting.  And we missed the monkeys-my favorites.  We also went to a few parks-one in beautiful and historic Hudson, Ohio and the other was surprisingly lush and vibrant Edgewater Park, just west of downtown Cleveland.  During these trips to the park, I came to realize that one of the things that makes Ana the happiest is having a large grassy area to run as fast and as far as she can and to fall down and get up over and over again.  In New York’s Central Park she had a similarly grand time.

In Cleveland we got to spend a lot of time with family and friends including some people I haven’t seen in a long while.  Aya and I got to go out a few times leaving Ana at home with my mom.  We went to see “Sex in the City,” which was better than I expected.  I went to an Indians game with the guys followed by a trip across the Cuyahoga to Now That’s Class.  We even got to hang out with Paul several times which is a bit of a minor miracle.

After Cleveland we headed back to Pennsylvania for a few days. Maki’s bakery, Cupcakes Gourmet,which just opened a few months ago, is doing very well.  In fact, they were honored by a Philadelphia area magazine MainlineToday ,earning one of the “Best of the Mainline” awards.  On our last day there Maki invited us to the award party, which consisted of a smorgasbord offering ridiculous amounts of food.  As usual I could not stop from gorging myself.  The sliced steak from a local butcher was excellent as were the meatballs from an Italian deli.  Besides Maki’s cupcakes though, I wasn’t too impressed with the desserts.

While in Pennsylvania, we also snuck back to New York for about 24 hours.  This time we left Ana at Maki’s and took the bus like the old days.  It was certainly a lot easier in the city without her but it was still a hectic day.  We had brunch with Jocelyn at Café Henri in the Village.  Best damn almond croissant I’ve ever had.  They actually don’t make it there-they get it at another French bakery in the Village but I don’t know the name.  Henri has very good entrees and coffee too.  I recognized the waitress from the Long Island City location and she remembered me from there too, asking where the baby was.  This small moment gave me a fleeting feeling of home again after really feeling that I didn’t belong in NY anymore after my last visit.  After that, we separated.  Aya went shopping with Jocelyn and I headed to 59th Street on a special mission.

I had to hit the Conran Shop to get my favorite miniature pens.  Incredibly geeky and obsessive, I know.  I get this way when I find a product a like and then find out that there is only one place in the world or only a few places that carry that item.  Like the incredibly comfortable black Ralph Lauren socks that I’ve only ever seen in a non-descript store near Ditmars Blvd in Astoria, Queens.  I think they are knockoffs because I’ve never seen them on the web or at outlet stores or any other place that carries RL and this is the type of store that would certainly sell knockoffs.  There’s also my beloved Sirius 70% dark chocolate, which I’ve only seen in Whole Foods.  (More on that later.)  Anyway, the pens are important because they are small (like a golf pencil) and can fit inside the rings of the 3×5 notebook I usually carry in my back pocket in which I write down anything and everything from to-do lists to my ideas on saving humanity, etc.

While in New York that one day, Aya had a meeting with a client and I met our real estate broker in Jackson Heights, got the mail, had to have a key made for the mailbox and cashed in about $17 worth of change at Commerce Bank’s “Penny Arcade.”  Then we met up with David at Hotel Gansevoort’s rooftop.  A total ripoff but I knew that going in.  Just wanted to cross it off my list.  We did have a surprisingly good dinner at Vento, an Italian place near Gansevoort.  

Then on to the main event, and the main reason for the one-day excursion in NYC: the Aimee Mann concert at Highline Ballroom.  I had been looking forward to this for months and was so psyched that we were able to work this into our schedule.   We saw her Christmas Show last year, but I wanted tosee a real Aimee concert without al the holiday songs.  I had pre-ordered her new album”@#%&*! Smilers” before leaving for the States in June and after repeatedlistenings I was really starting to like it.  On her site’s message board, I peeked at the playlist fromprevious shows on the tour, and it revealed a heavy emphasis on Smilers.  I was glad to be prepared.  Truthfully, though, by the time the concert arrived we were both exhausted.  We were not quite in the mood to stand for three hours, but that is what we did.  There was also an opening band called The Submarines.  They were okay but not really my thing. Didn’t really like the Macintosh-aided orchestrations and the female singer’s act seemed a bit contrived. They are like a WB-band, the type played on “Gossip Girl” to rave reviews.

Then Aimee finally climbed on the stage around 10:15.  Immediately you could tell that she had done this thousands of times before.  She had an excellent command of the audience and the material and was completely comfortable up there in complete contrast to the giggling opening act.  Between songs she also demonstrated a great sense of humor and knack for storytelling and back-and-forth with the audience.  The show lived up to my expectations although I wish I wasn’t so tired and stressed that day.  When I was younger and was a frequent concertgoer, I always had this fantasy or daydream–usually while the band was playing-that it would be so great if I could see this group perform live from the comfort of my own bed, not standing on top of each other sweating profusely or wearing uncomfortable shoes.  But that’s not reality, and I guess part of the live music experience is putting up with the crowds and the unpredictabilities involved.  I won’t go into too much detail on the concert here, but I’ll post the setlist at the end of this post in case anyone is interested.

I bought a t-shirt, which I haven’t done at a concert in years.  Then we took a cab to Trina’s place in Greenpoint, where we hung out for a bit before getting a meager amount of sleep so we could wake up early enough to catch the 8:00 bus back to PA.

This one day in the city was like a capsulated version of my ten years as a resident there.  I crisscrossed the city from Midtown to Greenwich Village to the Upper East Side to Jackson Heights to the Meatpacking District to Brooklyn and back to Midtown.  This was all within less than 24 hours.  As I walked alone from place to place random memories stirred inside me darting in and out of my mind.  Each flashback was triggered by a certain locale.  Walking in the East 60s reminded me of when I played softball for Bozell in the summer of ‘98.  We would always hit the same Upper East Side bar afterward and then I would take the long and impaired walk to the train.  It was a bit lonely after I left the bar.  Being in the Village reminded me how much time I spent down there my first year in the city, often going to hear jazz at the BYOB Small’s.  Of course, Greenpoint reminded me of visiting Paul at his place there and also of running through the neighborhood during the marathon.  The Meatpacking District was a place I frequently visited during my hotel class in 2006 as our site was there on 15th and 9th Ave.  I also thought of the marathon when I passed by the Queensboro Bridge.  I used to spend a lot of time in that Manhattan neighborhood going to movies when I lived in Astoria since there was no decent theater in my neighborhood when I first lived there and it was only 10 minutes by subway.  Of course, Jackson Heights represented the final chapter of our New York existence, for now anyway.

Okay, this post is getting way too long.  This is what happens when I don’t write for weeks.  I’ll try to wrap it up now.

We stopped in LA for a few days and spent a lot of time with Angelica and Minh and James who came up from San Diego.  Went to the Getty Center which was unbelievable and we didn’t even get a chance to see the exhibits.  Just the grounds themselves were mindblowing.  We also drove all over the city in the Honda Civic hybrid I rented.   The car was only a few bucks more per day and we definitely saved on gas.  I got a lot of comments and questions from passersby asking about the car.  I give it high marks.  We had breakfast one morning at the pier in Manhattan Beach-it was takeout from Le Pain Quotidien, one of our old favorites from the other Manhattan.  Before driving in LA, I was a bit intimidated, but now I feel pretty comfortable driving there and sort of know where I’m going with the aid of a good street map.  Tried to avoid the freeway as much as possible but got stuck in traffic a few times on the 405.

Mostly in LA we shopped.  It’s a Filipino thing.  I didn’t understand it when my in-laws used to visit and all the wanted to do was shop, my now I completely get it.  There are many things you cannot buy in the Philippines and other things that are much more expensive there.  So we spent the entire day before our departure shopping with the highlight being the trip to Costco to pick up mostly non-food items such as my cherished Charmin.  We also had to buy a bunch of items for Aya’s family at various places.  I feel like I did enough shopping to last me until I come back.  One unfortunate shopping related thing was that Whole Foods did not carry my Sirius chocolate bars.  The WF outlets in NY and Cleveland always have plenty of the white-wrappered bars, but apparently they don’t have them in the California stores, so I could not stock up until my next trip.  I had bought two in Cleveland thinking that I would get more in LA.  Of course I ate one before leaving so now I have one to last me five months or so.

Okay, I’m stopping soon, I swear.  Told you I’m obsessive.  The flight back to Cebu wasn’t so bad-guess I’m getting used to these double-digit flights.  I must say that the international terminal at LAX is pathetic.  It’s under construction and there is only one place to eat inside the checkpoints and the prices of the mediocre food are insane.  Then, after Ana was getting cranky again during the wait, we had to board a bus to take us to the plane where we had to climb the steps in order to board.  Ana was asleep by that time and slept for another five hours.  When she was awake she was pretty well behaved though we had to make frequent trips up and down the aisle where she couldn’t help trying to wake up every sleeping passenger.  Fortunately, none of them seemed to be too annoyed.  I occupied myself watching movies as usual as I have a hard time reading or writing or working on these long flights.  I can only survive by reverting to my childhood vegetative TV watching state.    Watched “Cool Runnings” with the late great John Candy, which I had never seen and was mildly entertaining.  Then “What Happens in Vegas” and “Run Fat Boy Run.”  All were entertaining to varying degrees–as I’ve said before, my standards for movies on airplanes are drastically reduced.

That’s it.  Our exhausting whirlwind six-week trip that took us to six states (seven for Aya) is finally behind us.  Many lessons learned which I hope we’ll remember next time we try to plan a trip like this.  We’re home.  Good Night Now.

*    *    *    *    *    *    *

Aimee Mann @ Highline Ballroom, NYC 7/30/2008
Stranger into Starman
Looking for Nothing
Freeway
Phoenix
Great Beyond
Save Me
Wise Up
Calling it Quits
4th of July
Invisible Ink
You’re with Stupid Now
Little Tornado
31 Today
Borrowing Time
Today’s the Day
Red Vines
How Am I Different?
Little Bombs**
I’ve Had It**
Deathly**

**Encore

If I have to be locked inside the trunk of a car-and I hope I won’t be-it wouldn’t be so bad if it is a Chevrolet Impala.  I rented one last weekend, and the trunk is quite spacious.  I think I could fully sprawl out in there.  Again, I hope I never have to find out, but…all new cars have a latch inside the trunk so one can open it if ever locked inside, right?

Something about the proximity of the words “Bush” and “Farewell” really bring a smile to my face.

File this in the category of things I no longer need: A manual titled “Good Call.  Getting the most out of your T-Mobile device.”  Um, I think I got rid of T-mobile like 5 or 6 years ago.  Aya is not so good at throwing things away.  I am a bit of a pack rat but I usually save things that have some value or sentimental meaning.  She saves worthless things like price tags from clothing, tiny scraps of paper with phone numbers but no name, string, etc.  It’s not that she saves these items actually.  She just doesn’t throw anything out until I am forced to ask her item by item if she wants to keep it.  Often, she’ll have no idea what the item is.  This time,with the T-mobile manual, I think I can safely throw it away without asking her.