That New Year post

Dear one,

The last day of the year would always bring with it mixed feelings for me - nostalgia, pride, regret and hope, among others.

There's always that bit of nostalgia for something that wasn't perfect but was a good ride anyway - and it's ending soon. In fact, it is ending today. 2013 was an up-and-down kind of year. Then again, what's new? Life will always be like that - one great rollercoaster ride. 

The year started good; I was slowly adjusting into the new job that I got during the last month of 2012.

Then, in March and in April, I had to say goodbye to two members of my household in Singles for Christ (SFC). Liz and Gelai chose to go back to the Philippines for good. But everything did turn out well for both of them; Liz is now busy managing her own business while Gelai is back to the profession she loves best: teaching.

In May, my mother got bedridden again due to her bone fracture. She did manage to regain her physical capabilities. Apart from the back brace she now has to wear and that she has to be assisted when she walks, she looks pretty back to normal. She does complain of being easily tired these days. On the other hand, my father got diagnosed with kidney stones and so was my brother. All of these were on top of the hypertension that all three of them have had for as long as I can remember. 2013 left my family with one sole healthy adult: me. Tough luck. The thought of the responsibility jolted me to mature by at least five more years.

I turned 30 in August (and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Hahaha.) sans the bells and whistles which I would have to admit was a bit of a disappointment for me. Have I told you before that I didn't have a grandiose debut party when I turned 18? I guess I was expecting this birthday would have been my second chance. But I suppose some girls are just never meant for such things. Nevertheless, I am thankful to the family and friends who had remembered me and had celebrated with me, especially Circe and Marco who had indulged all my midlife crisis drama in Taipei on the eve of my birthday.

The year 2013 also leaves behind a sense of pride and accomplishment for me. I went on my first solo trip to four cities in Europe: Barcelona, Madrid, Frankfurt and Heidelberg (technically, five cities, if I count Kassel-Wilhemshöhe where I got lost in the middle of the night.). In retrospect, I'd say going solo wasn't as difficult or as lonesome as I had imagined it to be. You know what the most difficult thing about it is? Taking photos of my self. But that's what the reverse camera function of the iPhone is for, anyway. And every now and then, I would request fellow tourists to take my photo.

In all honesty, I could say I had enjoyed the solo trip experience - except perhaps that night that I got lost. Then again, I don't think I want to do it again anytime soon. For now, it's enough that I know it wasn't impossible. I can make it alone - on my own.

2013 was also a year of fab and glam as I discovered (finally) the wonders of make-up. Sorry, let me rephrase that. What I did discover was that make-up did wonders for me. See? ^_^ 

All thanks to my favorite make-up artists, Liz and En

Good old Frankie said, "Regrets, I've had a few but then again..." I don't know. I guess my only regret this year was accommodating the wrong sort of people. Just over the last six months, I've met quite a number of undesirable characters. And no, most of them were not undesirable because they were ugly. Some of those I've met have unfairly misjudged me. In most other cases, they were only after one thing from me, if you get what I mean.

You do know how I much I hate wasting my time. Sometimes, I wonder why then am I still wasting my time looking for you. Just so you know, this search is not easy. It has, oftentimes, almost drained me of all my self-esteem in 2013. Even then, I simply couldn't banish that last flicker of hope that somewhere in this planet called Earth, you do exist.

For 2014, I prayed for only two things: first, faith in God that the best of things will happen at the best time; and, second, love - love, in whatever form, that I can feel and appreciate. Because if there's one thing I've realized in 2013, it's that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't exactly looking for you. I was - I still am - looking for love.

Cheers to the year ahead of us. Happy New Year, dear one.

On the other side

26 Nov 2013

Dear one,

While I wait for you, I'll work on my dreams one by one. And I'll travel the world. Because life has to go on; it doesn't stop for me. And because I want to be happy too.

I've made mistakes. I'll make mistakes. But I'm still trying to save the best version of me for you.

I don't know if I'll ever meet you in this lifetime; maybe not. If I don't, then I'll just see you on the other side.

Hong Kong: Beyond Disneyland and the shopping

08 Nov 2013

Dear one,

Bali, Phuket, Johor Bahru, Kuala Lumpur (KL), Ho Chi Minh, Malacca, Bintan, Macau, Hong Kong - I've been around Asia. Yet I've never been to any of these places more than once except for KL and last weekend, Hong Kong. But while the second trip to KL with my family who were visiting Singapore that time was customary, this second trip to Hong Kong was something I have been planning to make because of some unfinished business: one, the fireworks at Disneyland that I have not seen; and two, the dolphins and pandas at Ocean Park.

Two years after my first trip, I finally found the perfectly priced air ticket and the perfect timing, a three-day weekend, to visit Hong Kong once again.

The happiest place on earth

A couple of my friends had told me that the Disneyland fireworks display is a must-see. Hence, this time around, I stayed until park closing to see it for myself.

All-time favorite Disney movie theme songs played while colorful fireworks graced the sky just above the Sleeping Beauty Castle. But the fireworks weren't dancing to the tune of the music so that was a bit of a disappointment for me. In many ways, Singapore's Songs of the Sea at Sentosa has set the bar in terms of pyrotechnics spectacles - at least for me, that is. Nonetheless, Disney in the Stars fireworks was a magical ending befitting a whole day at "the happiest place on earth."

The "happiest place on earth" turned out to be a tiresome place on earth too. It, being a Sunday, queues to the rides and attractions were unbelievably long. Even a very boring kiddie ride like The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh had a very long queue with a waiting time of 45 minutes. (Seriously?!?) The only two rides that I had the patience to line up for were It's a Small World and the Jungle River Cruise. And for the second time, I watched the shows: Festival of the Lion King (a concise version of the movie), Mickey's PhilharMagic (a 3D animated show) and The Golden Mickeys (Disneyland's fun version of the Golden Globe awards). Of the three, the Lion King show is still my favorite; I think the quality of this show may even rival that of the musical theater production. Another first for me to see was the Flights of Fantasy Parade which was a parade of almost all, if not all, of Disney's well-loved characters.

Singaporean Pooh meets Hong Konger Pooh

But of the eight hours I had spent at the theme park, this photo about sums up all the reasons why Disneyland is my happiest place on earth (next of course to whichever place on earth I am with my family). My travel buddy toy, baby Pooh, finally met its literally BIG brother from another mother.

This meeting almost did not happen because I was stuck in the Mickey Mouse photo op line when Pooh made its appearance at the Fantasy Gardens. For something as trivial as that, I actually begged to God in silent prayer that I wouldn't miss the photo op with Pooh. He didn't disappoint me! I'm a spoiled child of the Father. Hehe.

I must say Hong Kong Disneyland is not as "magical" the second time. Still, I wouldn't mind coming back again. After all, I'm always a kid at heart (and a crazy kid at that. What kind of 30-year-old in her right mind carries around a baby Pooh stuffed toy in every out-of-the-country trip? Only my kind.). Hopefully, dear one, when I come back a third, fourth, nth time, we'll have our kids in tow.

New appreciation for Hong Kong

Hong Kong is Disneyland and shopping; that was how I thought of this place ever since. It was bigger than Singapore but for some reason, I found it more crowded than the latter. So while I did consider coming back every now and then for vacation, I would never have thought I would fall in love with the place. 

Okay... Maybe love is too strong a word to describe it but my feeling of affinity and awe for Hong Kong can only be comparable to how I felt for Australia which was the only country so far that had me at hello.

Lantau Island gave me that fresh perspective on Hong Kong - a new appreciation for what this place still has to offer. This island, Tung Chung area in particular, is so much unlike Mong Kok or Tsim Sha Tsui where it was just buildings and markets and crowds and more crowds. Tung Chung does have a mall and an outlet stores mall at that - Citygate Outlets, a shopaholic's paradise. It has crowds but is not congested. It has buildings but with lots of empty spaces, too.

Even better is the fact that Tung Chung is less than an hour away by bus from nature. With a Lantau day pass, one can access the beaches, a fishing village and of course, the Tian Tan Buddha shrine. Unfortunately, I couldn't spend a whole day since I was flying back to Singapore that night. Nonetheless, I was still able to enjoy my three-hour stay at Ngong Ping.

It isn't called the Big Buddha for nothing.

When I arrived at the place, I immediately walked my way to the Buddha shrine; after all, the main objective of my day trip was to see the famous Big Buddha which was a 34-meter high bronze statue of the founder of Buddhism. And big it really is; I could only compare it to the one I saw in Phuket three years ago.

Lantau's Buddha sits atop Mount Muk Yue. Tourists and Buddhists alike have to climb several flights of stairs to see the statue up close. Above, I got a 360-degree view of the surrounding towns and other mountains/hills.

I managed to find a fellow Filipino to take my picture with the giant statue at the background so I didn't have to settle for a selfie shot. After which, I had a short talk with Buddha. Yeah, I'm a Catholic but I do talk to Buddha every time I visit a Buddhist temple or shrine (which I realized had been quite often this year). This time, the talk was mostly about Ama. I don't really know how it works in Buddhism so I just told Buddha to take care of her soul. The Catholic in me thought someone should be taking care of her in the netherworld and since she's a Buddhist, the best one to get the job done would probably be Buddha himself.

Then I went down in search of what other sights there are in Ngong Ping. Some 60 steps away from the foot of the shrine was the road to the Wisdom Path - 38 wooden columns with calligraphic inscriptions of the Heart Sutra which articulates the doctrine of emptiness.

The wisdom of the Heart

I know I am definitely coming back to Hong Kong a third time to climb all the way up to the 38th column. And when I get that chance, I will make sure that I will also witness the so-called breathtaking sunrise at Lantau Peak.

A picture of lightheartedness
My weekend visit came at a rather sad time for the Yeung-Ting family. They were in mourning because Ama, my friend Ben's maternal grandmother, had just passed away the week before. Yet, the family was so kind to welcome me. Ate Rose accommodated me in her posh apartment which was located about five minutes away from the MTR station. On the other hand, Rowina lent me a mobile phone with a local SIM card. With these conveniences that the Ting sisters provided for me, I lost all chance to get lost in Hong Kong the Maleta Girl way. Hehehe.

Not to be outdone in kindness, Mr. and Mrs. Ting treated me to the authentic Hong Kong dimsum. I had met Ben's parents last December when they had spent a month-long vacation in Singapore. Much to Ben's surprise, even then, his mom had been nice and warm to me. I would jokingly explain to him that the reason for that is because: "Alam kasi ng mama mo na mabait ako."

Even at their time of loss, the family remained a picture of lightheartedness. During their family dinners which were always occasions for catching up and banter, the siblings would share funny anecdotes about the funeral traditions. I guess it also helped ease the burden of their heavy hearts to have little adorable Sophia around to shower everyone with cheery smiles and sweet kisses.

A few days after my trip, I was sorely disappointed to hear that Hong Kong lawmakers had voted to withdraw the Filipinos' visa-free access to the city. Sadly, the Hong Kong and Philippine governments may just never see eye to eye anymore after that hostage-taking incident of 2010. But that doesn't really matter. Ben and I will remain friends for life; no failed government relationships can change that.
 
I will still try to go back to Hong Kong where I know there are other adventures that still await Maleta Girl. (I still haven't gone to Ocean Park!) And the wonderful Ting family - of course, I'd like to meet them again. Thanks to them, Hong Kong became a notch lovelier the second time around.

I could have gotten that guy

But I didn't.

And that guy from two weeks ago. But I didn't.

And that guy last February. But I didn't.

All three were good-looking that it doesn't seem justified for me to be choosy. Yet, I was being choosy. That was because I wanted something else they could not offer - forever. Then again some would say, "Who are you to know he couldn't give that to you eventually?" Well, as I have always believed, you decide on something based on what you know and you can only know so much.

It was the wrong place. At the wrong time. I just think it wasn't worth risking that forever with any of them. To do so would be like selling out our future, dear one.

But I didn't.

Memories of Cubao

Dear one,

It's funny how something as trivial as this slice of Sarpino's pizza I'm eating for dinner could trigger memories from some 20 years ago.

Tatay used to buy me a slice of Pizza Hut Hawaiian pizza on our way to the bus terminal in Cubao. For me, it was an absolute treat - the most delicious pizza I've ever tasted. You'd think so too if all you've ever tasted in your young life was the homemade pizza sold in food stalls in the street corners of Batangas City. Pizza Hut was non-existent in our town until about two or three years ago.

We would munch on the pizza slices while hurriedly walking the length of Araneta Center to catch the last trip of the bus to the province on Friday nights. I was barely 13 years old then, struggling with my freshman year at Pisay. My struggle lasted but three months. I eventually succumbed to homesickness and transferred back to a high school in the province.

Pizza Hut wasn't my earliest memory of Cubao. When I was six years old, my aunt took me with her on a field trip to Fiesta Carnival. The most unforgettable memory I have of that place was the horror train - the scariest ride of my life. Other kids would have probably dismissed it as another boring kiddie ride. Not me. I've never ridden another one. Until now, I've shunned all similar theme park rides.

I returned to the Fiesta Carnival when I was 17, a college freshman in search of a subject for an English paper assignment. By then, the charm of the Fiesta Carnival of my childhood was nowhere to be found. Its sparkle lost, only evidence of disrepair and poor maintenance welcomed me. That time, Enchanted Kingdom (EK) was already the theme park of all theme parks in the country. But I couldn't afford a trip to EK then. I was already working when I went on my first trip to EK. So for another three years, Fiesta Carnival remained the only theme park in my memories.

Even when I was already a college student, Tatay would still usually pick me up from the university dorm during the weekends when I could take time off to go home to Batangas. I still got homesick a lot of times but I guess I was more determined more than ever then to finish what I had started, knowing very well that that time, getting that college diploma meant insurance for my future.

My father and I still took the last trip from Araneta Center Cubao bus terminal but we don't go to our favorite pizza joint as often anymore. Sometimes, we would eat at Popeye's (another fastfood which until now, has no branch in our province) or at other times, at the Ali Mall food court. And whoever thinks now that I'm a high-maintenance diva ought to know my father and I also ate at turo-turo carinderias most of the time; we have a favorite at P. Tuazon Street. Even when I was already working in Makati CBD, I regularly bought my dinner from the neighborhood turo-turo. My guilty pleasure: the pork barbecue sold at the corner of Washington and Dela Rosa Streets - that and fishballs and taho.

If there was one thing that Cubao would always remind me of, it was exactly that - that of how I mastered the art of adaptation; in local street slang, "pagiging cowboy", not just in the food I ate but in everything else that I did. Tatay, who had spent a good part of his youth living in Manila, expected me to keep up with him at all times. With bags in tow, my father and I chased after jeepneys and buses; surprisingly, I never got sick from all the pollution I inhale on the road week after week. We squeezed in overcrowded LRT and MRT trains, joining the hoards of people all in a hurry to get home.  (My father had teased me the first time I rode the LRT: "Sumakay ka lang ng LRT, pinagpawisan ka na."). We even rode pedicabs and tricycles. Taking the taxi was always only a last resort; we're kuripot that way. Tatay taught me essential survival skills - Metro Manila Commuting 101.

Later on I would come to know that when one has survived Metro Manila public transportation, he/she can survive almost anywhere else. The experience gave you a different worldview. You'd think EDSA MRT and Manila LRT were sparkling clean if you've seen the Paris and Rome Metro. And you would appreciate that, even if our metropolitan train system was less than ideal, at least we have one; Ho Chi Minh doesn't. When you see the crowds in Singapore MRT trains during the rush hour, you'd just smile to yourself, knowing that this is nothing compared to the traffic of people in Metro Manila at any time of day.

Cubao, from where I used to take the bus to Batangas City, was like a gateway that connected me to my roots and Cubao, from where I took the jeep to Ateneo, was much like the same gateway that connected me to my future. In a way, it had become some sort of comfort zone for me during that time of my life when this promdi girl was starting out in the city.

Almost 10 years after, a lot of things would have already changed in Cubao, not necessarily for the better; I know commuting has remained as much of a challenge. When I come for a visit, I wonder how I'd fare. Well, we'll see.

It's been a while, Maleta Girl, a very long while.

The Woman by the Yarra River

Dear one,

It was an autumn night - her first in Melbourne.

Freezing from the cold breeze that was blowing, the woman wrapped her jacket closer to her chest, sat on a bench by the Yarra River and poured out her heart. She told the story of a great love - her love story. You would think that so many years after it had ended, the twinkle in her eyes and the lilt in her voice would have faded away with time. But no. She told the story like it was only yesterday that she wrote that letter. Every little detail seemed all fresh in her memory; more so, what happened that day he made the choice and said goodbye.

She didn't cry by the river. Or maybe, the shadows of the night hid the glisten of tears from my view. With tears or without, I knew then she bore a heavy heart.

Only a few people have seen her cry. After all, she is a strong and determined woman who knows exactly what she wants out of life. She is not one to do anything haphazardly. Everything that she does, she does with her whole heart into it. That must be why she felt so mad that night in Vietnam when I told her my own (non-)love story. She might have been thinking that I haven't given the best of my effort into that person. Well, eventually, she came to understand that I did give my best but, cliched as it sounded, my best wasn't good enough.

I did see her cry once. On the eve of her 31st birthday. Her tears were just flowing like a river without ebb. It was that moment at the Yarra River once again - when she laid her heart bare for all to see.

Rivers punctuated the friendship I shared with her: the Yarra River when she first told me her story, the Mekong River and that night we argued, the Seine River and the fulfillment of our Europe dream, the Kaohsiung River and the second time that we stayed awake together, chatting about my life until the clock struck the first hour of my birthday.

By the Mekong River, we sat down and ...

Our view of River Seine from atop Notre Dame

The irony of loveless-ness at the Love River of Kaohsiung

But if there was one river I'd like to mark another milestone in our friendship, it would be the river of her joyful tears on the happiest day of her life. On that day, I couldn't care less if I will be baking the cupcakes, singing at the reception or helping her with the train of her gown. I will be there to stand witness to her joy - a testament that no matter how much it hurts today, it would be a happy day tomorrow. I hope she knows I am praying for that for her because I know that the woman I met by the Yarra River two years ago deserves nothing less than that.

P.S.

Dear one, if our happiest day ever comes, I have to warn you, she's singing "Eternal Flame". I did try to dissuade her. But, as you would expect, she's all hell-bent on doing it. So how? LOL.

A Letter to My 25-Year-Old Self

This time it's not for you, dear one.

16 August 2013

Dear Geebee,

Congratulations on your first international flight!

I know you can't believe this day would ever come - this day when you could travel outside the Philippines. While some of your classmates in grade school have gone to Disneyland USA before they even turned 12, here you are on your first out of the country trip at 25 years old. See? You didn't have to feel so sad about that business trip to Warsaw that didn't push through the year before. Now, you've taken your self to Singapore on a birthday vacation trip with your own hard-earned money. Give yourself a pat on the back, girl!

So, how did you find Singapore? I know that the minute you stepped out of bus 27 in Sengkang you had said, "I don't want to move here." Oh, but you would.

The year after, you did accept a job offer in Singapore and moved to lah-lah land - big, red maleta and all. You would consider that job one of the grandest financial blessings that God gave you, next only to the scholarship you got from the Ateneo. Thanks to that first job in Singapore you didn't have to continue scrimping and saving every penny of your salary until you're 30 to pay for monthly amortization just so you can finally call as your very own that little (literally little!) condo unit you got three years ago.

It was also thanks to that first job, Singapore will not be the last place in Asia that you will be able to travel to. Within the next two years, you will have seen Johor Bahru, Kuala Lumpur, Bali, Phuket and Macau. And your childhood dream of Disneyland? It might be 20 years too late but yes, you will make that trip to Hong Kong with Inay.

Disneyland is a place for kids from 1 to 92.

My next adventure. I hope.

And then you'll be friends with a spirited woman named Circe who turns out to be as fond of travelling as you are. Together, you will explore Melbourne and Perth in the Land Down Under. 

You will fall in love with that country so much that the following year, 2012, you will go back to Melbourne and Perth and also to Sydney. After that second trip, you would dream of migrating to Australia. Believe me, you would. I still dream of it until now. Unfortunately, however, there is no opportunity for me to migrate there yet.

Australia wouldn't be the last of your adventures with Circe. Again, thanks to that first job, you, Circe and your new friend Amor will see the iconic Eiffel Tower with your own eyes.

Setting eyes on an architectural icon - Eiffel Tower

You will also be able to appreciate the same view of the City of Light as Victor Hugo's Quasimodo saw atop the Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris.

Quasimodo's view of Paris

That all-time favorite movie of yours, "The Sound of Music" - you will set foot on the place where it was shot: picturesque Salzburg, Austria.

No wonder Maria couldn't help singing

Wasn't having an audience with the Pope in your bucket list for the longest time? Barely a week after your 29th birthday, you would be right below the balcony of His Holiness' summer residence in Castel Gandolfo, standing teary-eyed and overwhelmed, just a few feet from Pope Benedict VI himself.

This close to holiness personified

Come on. Walk over to the mirror. What do you see? A girl in jeans and a shirt. That's all you've ever worn since high school. Back in grade school, didn't you use to wear hand-me-downs? 

From garb to glam

Don't fret. Miss Average-Plain-Jane-You will soon learn to dress up in skirts and blouses and dresses, too. 

Then you will meet Liz, that petite girl who, through the magic of make-up, would be able to transform you into... Voila! A model. Well, not really a model. But you will be pretty and have a few photoshoots. Can you believe it?!? 

You have to believe it. 

Contrary to what the mirror says now and what some unkind people have said to you, you can be pretty too!

That singing talent you've kept within the confines of videoke rooms, only disclosed to close friends after you've lost in the solo voice contest when you were six - you will finally show it to the public once again. In the Search for Pinoy Idol in Singapore Grand Finals 2011, you will sing your dream piece "On My Own" from the musical "Les Miserables". 

You wouldn't make it to the final six but what the heck! You will have had your three minutes of fame. Beaming with joy now? Haha. I know you are. You have the worst case of stage fright but you've always secretly dreamed of being on stage ever since the heyday of Little Miss Philippines.

And then just when you will think that everything's all rosy, you will lose your job in 2012 - not by choice nor by neglect. The good news, though, is that you will find another job after three months. Life will not be that bad for you but those three months will be trying ones; you will lose your self-esteem a lot of times.

Quarterlife crisis. At 25, I don't think you know that phrase encompassed that mixture of nostalgia and apprehension you're feeling now. I wish I could have told you not to focus so much on the quarterlife crisis, because, you see, I know now it will only grow worse for you in the next five years.

You know what else I know? I know that a few days before you turned 25, you prayed to God for a sign. You told Him that if you didn't meet anyone on your 25th year, you would take that as a sign that you were not meant to get married.

I hate to break it to you but you didn't meet anyone that year. And though you will, time and again, try to negotiate that sign with God in the next few years that followed, you will still not have met the one. You would fall in love twice and break your heart both times. You will attend about a dozen weddings of friends and you will witness these friends give birth and celebrate the birthdays of their firstborns.

It will be like you're a mere spectator to a movie entitled "Life". And you're not part of it at all.

Brick by brick

So you try to make a life of your own - tick some items off your never-ending travel bucket list: Barcelona, Madrid, Frankfurt, Heidelberg, Taipei; and fulfill some other dream that you can, at least, do something about: your dream house, brick by brick. Rather, hollow block by hollow block.

I wish I could tell you that you've finally met the one now that you are (well, now that I am) already 30. But no, you still haven't met him. I still haven't met him. There is still no ending to this love story. Actually, a lot of times, I wonder if there is even a love story.

I'm sorry, dear 25-year-old Geebee, your 30-year-old self sucks big time. She has failed to fulfill that one big dream you have dreamed of for her for the last 10 years. A sad, old maid at 30. 



But, hey, don't despair! She'll snap out of this phase. Soon, I hope. There's really no other choice but to move on. Anyway, as one of our favorite authors, C.S. Lewis once said, "You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." 

I guess it's just about time. For me to make new dreams. For me to choose happiness.



XOXO,

30-year-old You

Choose happiness.
(Image source: http://favim.com/image/43861/)

Ein nacht im Kassel-Wilhemshöhe (One night in Kassel-Wilhemshöhe) or The longest night of my life

06 July 2013

Dear one, 

The plan was to go on a day trip to Heidelberg. Everything was in order:

Roundtrip train tickets - checked

Maps - checked

Day itinerary - checked

Weather report - checked

Jacket and sunblock - checked (Yes, Germany's summer had an identity crisis.)

Camera - checked

Passport - checked

Cash - checked

My closest friends know me as the Maleta Girl - that girl with a big luggage in tow, out to explore the world and the same girl who, ironically, literally explores a whole lot of the world because she was nowhere to be found (probably, lost) when God gave out compasses. In other words, she just gets lost, anywhere, everywhere.

Because I know in myself that everything they said about Maleta Girl is true, there's just no point in denying their claims, I never leave anything to chance and sometimes, I don't even leave anything to Providence.

Until today, when God reminded me: "Hey, Geebee, it's okay to leave the scary stuff to Me."

Tired from walking all day at the breathtakingly beautiful city of Heidelberg, I fell asleep on the train ride back. As you would have guessed it, I missed the stop at Frankfurt Main Hauptbahnhof where I was supposed to get off. Now, missing the stop in a regional train in Germany is not as simple as missing the MRT station at Sengkang, getting off at Punggol and riding the train back or riding a taxi if no more trains were coming back.

I had to endure two and a half hours more inside the train to reach the next (and last) station - emphasis on the "endure". It was not because the train seat was uncomfortable or that the temperature was unbearably hot. If anything, I think the temperature must have gone a notch colder when I realized that I was faced with the unknown. I had to endure not knowing what lay ahead of me. I had no idea what Kassel-Wilhemshöhe looked like.

There was one more passenger in the same coach - a man in a Polizia uniform. I didn't have much of a choice - even if I had felt paranoid remembering stories of evil people posing as policemen - so I talked to him. "There are no more trains from Kassel going to Frankfurt. The first train tomorrow will not leave until 4 AM. Where are you from?" he said. I replied, "Manila." (Shit! Why did I tell him that? Did it matter where one is from when one is going through the most embarrassing, scariest moment of her life?) 

"What about a taxi?" I asked him again.

"It costs 200 euros." (Double shit!)

"Ok, thanks." Then I went back to my seat.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Actually, my first thought was, and I realized, it was always like that in every scrape I've ever gotten my self into, my first thought would be: "How would my mother take this news? Would she break down and cry?" You see, I could get all sappy from watching a tragic film. However, placed in a situation like the one I was in, I wouldn't cry at all. Frustrated, I would be. But tears, no. My mother does all the crying herself. I, on the other hand, play tough and think about my options.

Maybe, I should just not tell my mother. Nope, I don't lie about these things. I didn't have to tell her I was out all night partying with my housemates at Clark Quay on Chinese New Year's eve. But this was way too different - I was lost in Germany. Can you imagine that? I was lost. In Germany. Shit! Shit! Shit!

So I called her up (and I haven't seen my phone bill yet but the roaming charges may bring me to tears next month.). Surprisingly, and thankfully, she didn't go berserk over the phone. I told her I'd check if it was safe to wait until 4 AM at the station or if it was better to check-in to a hotel instead.

Then I called my friend Macha who was living in another town in Germany, told her about my situation. She was able to find an Intercity Hotel located near the train station.

When I finally got off at Kassel at past 1 AM, I had set my mind that I'd just camp at the station for the next three hours. But, boy, was it cold there! I had to find the hotel.

Although I had the hotel address, the real problem was getting there. Was the hotel within walking distance of the station? I didn't know. I walked out the door of the station and checked the vicinity map. As you would have guessed, I could not understand the map, not because it was written in German. Everybody knows that this Maleta Girl can't read maps properly regardless of what language was used in the map. I wanted to scream in frustration!

I wished there was another hotel nearer to the station. Intending to go back inside the station because I was already freezing, I turned to my right. Behold, there it was. Intercity Hotel. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!

First, I went in search of a toilet at the hotel because I badly needed to empty my bladder. Up I went inconspicuously, or so I thought. I bumped into a hotel staff member. He smiled and said something to me in German, which, of course, I did not understand a word of. I replied in English, "I'm looking for the toilet." He pointed to the door of the ladies' room. 

Before I could enter the toilet, he asked, "Are you staying at the hotel?"

Without thinking, I blurted out in one breath, "No, but maybe I'll take a room. I missed my stop. I'm supposed to get off at Frankfurt."

"Okay, slowly," he smiled again and went ahead with what he was doing. 

When I went out of the toilet, he was still there. He offered me a glass of water. I had second thoughts about accepting it, paranoid about stories of evil people putting "stuff" in drinks. Oh well, bahala na si Batman! I took the glass.

He offered me the fruit basket, "Would you like an apple?"

"No. Thanks. I've had my dinner already." (It's a good thing that I did have my dinner already; otherwise, I'd have to take up a second offer from this stranger. What if the apple he was offering was poisoned? That was my overactive imagination at work, of course. I had to remind my self I wasn't Snow White.)

Then he sat down and started talking to me. "Where are you from?"

(Okay... This was the last thing I would have wanted on the night of Murphy's law - a stranger inquiring about my life.)

I didn't want to be impolite; after all, he was gracious enough to offer me a drink and an apple.

"Manila. And you, are you German?"

"I'm from Malta." And seeing my furrowed brows, he added, "Small island off Italy."

"Oh. Why are you working here, not in Italy?"

"Italy's not a good place to work. So many jobless people. Germany has the good economy."

"I see. So you're in the best place."

"Yes." Then he asked, "You have family?"

"No. I'm not married. I don't have kids yet."

"But you are beautiful." (I know. Hahaha.)

Honestly, I didn't know what to say to that so I just smiled. (Jaui said a smile always works when you didn't know the answer. It worked for her back in our days at the university. Hehehe.) 

Then I cued my exit, "Well, I'm keeping you from your work. Goodbye...? Sorry, I didn't get your name."

"Aldo. You are?"

"Maria." (Yes, I use my first name with non-Filipinos because it's easier to pronounce than my nickname.)

"Lovely name."

I smiled again. He reached out for my hand and he kissed it. I got a bit taken aback but then I remembered that the act is a social custom in some countries.

"Thanks. See you." (Now, why did I say that?) "If I see you again," I hastily added.

"In 10 years, maybe. You have kids already."

"I wish! Goodbye, Aldo." Then I escaped to the hotel lobby, got my self a room and slept in my street clothes.

My room for the night

Good morning, Kassel!

Waiting for the train that will take me back to Frankfurt

Fast forward to 10 hours after, here I am, back in Frankfurt.

This is not home. This is not even my comfort zone. But it is, at least, in the realm of my known.

Maybe in 10 years, when I do have kids and a husband, I'll go back to Kassel and look for that man, Aldo, and introduce to him the family he had (cross fingers) prophesied about me. For now, I could only utter one prayer: "Thank you, Lord, for the kindness of that stranger. Hindi na po ulit ako matutulog sa train, pramis!"

A Weekend Getaway: Malacca

03 Mar 2013

Dear one,

I just got back from the shortest vacation trip that I've ever had - a short and sweet weekender in Malacca with Circe and Amor. This was our third group trip; anticlimactic in a way because we had already travelled across the globe together during our Europe trip last year. Nonetheless, in this trip, we had loads of fun and food. And I mean, LOADS OF FOOD. More on that later.

Heritage Site

I came to this trip with hardly any expectations except that I would just have a chance to get away from Singapore even for a brief time. I've been itching to go out of town for a while now. (Why, my last trip was almost three months ago already!) So I grabbed the opportunity when Circe and Amor extended the invitation to me. I was planning to go along with whatever they had in mind.

And so I didn't even read a thing about Malacca, let alone its history. I read a bit of its history only after the trip.

Malacca, otherwise known by its Malay name Melaka, was founded by the ex-pirate Prince Parameswara who according to legend built a house on a spot under the Indian gooseberry tree that was also known as a melaka. This town was highly influenced by a combination of cultures - first by the Chinese beneficial trade partnership and eventually, client kingdomship, and then by Middle East trading after it became a sultanate. Europeans soon came into the picture: the Portuguese, followed by the Dutch and then the British. In World War II, the Japanese had a brief occupation of the town. Malaysia declared its independence in 1957 right there in Melaka. Finally, 2008 saw the declaration of Melaka as UNESCO World Cultural Heritage site.

In many ways, Malacca's history is reminiscent of the Philippines' own history, a history that was also shaped by colonial invasion. Malacca's hodge podge culture is very similar to ours - our hodge podge, on the other hand, is influenced by Chinese traditions and Spanish and American cultures.

And that is barely scratching the surface of the colorful story that is Malacca.

Comparisons

The tourist center of Malacca is quite small. The places are within walking distance of each other. Or if one fancies a ride, you can hail one of these and go around town feeling like a Sagala of the Flores de Mayo festival in the Philippines. LOL.

Mind you, there is a variety of interesting themes to choose from. We saw one with a Hello Kitty theme. Each pedicab has its own sound system. You just have to remind yourself that this ain't no street party where you can break into a dance to the beat of Gangnam Style blaring from one of the pedicabs' speakers. If Ho Chi Minh is known for the "motorcades", I guess Malacca can be made famous by this noisy, colorful parade.

Our walking tour of Malacca also reminded me of my walking tour of Macau. It should, because both places ring of Chinese and Portuguese influences.

Both even have a church/cathedral atop a hill named after Saint Paul. Both churches were managed by Jesuits.

These remains of a fortress (top picture) looks a lot like what I saw in Fort San Pedro of Cebu City (and what can be seen in another UNESCO World Heritage site, Intramuros).

It's always great to be visiting other places apart from the towns and cities in the Philippines because I get to see for myself just how closely related we all are. Somehow, we share bits and pieces of a common history with the rest of the world.


Food, food, FOOD

The best part of this trip? The food feast! We literally let our diets go unchecked for two straight days. Our first meal was lunch at A Famosa Chicken Rice Balls where we had their specialty of roasted chicken and rice balls and otah. It was my first time to eat otah; I think it tastes a lot like sardines but I'd prefer sardines over otah at any given day. Hehe.

Dinner was at Old Town Coffee Shop. Old Town Coffee Shops are relatively commonplace in Singapore; ironically, I've never eaten at one.

I had rendang chicken rice. I'm not much of an Indonesian cuisine fan so I only have a few favorites and I'll definitely add this to my list.

But the real value-for-money meals that we had were the breakfast buffet and the lunch buffet at the Holiday Inn where we had spent the night. For MYR 20, we were treated to an assortment of breakfasts - Malaysian, Chinese, Indonesian, Indian, American, French, English and continental.

Prata craving - satisfied!

Breads galore!

Lunch, meanwhile, was a feast of grilled meats, pasta, salad, cheese, fruits and desserts; all these for less than SGD 15.

 

Salads

Cheese and appetizers

Fruits

Desserts for the sweet tooth

Satay

Holiday Inn Melaka is the sixth hotel in the InterContinental Hotels Group that I have stayed in and to date, this is my favorite. It is located some distance away from the city center but that isn't much of a hassle because the hotel provides free shuttle service to the guests.

Oh, and have I mentioned? They give out mini cupcakes and green tea at the lobby.

 

 

I must say it's always a pleasant experience to stay at Holiday Inn. =)

* * *

On another note, I have a new travel buddy, courtesy of Circe. Meet little Bellinda. If baby Pooh represents the adventurous, "anything goes" side of me, Bellinda is that other side of me who secretly thinks she's a beautiful princess with a romantic love story waiting to unfold.

So now we're a trio out to travel the world, one country at a time.

 

Up-next: Ilocandia!

One for the books

10 Feb 2013

Dear one,

If you're a handsome, hot guy from southern France named Guillermo, then ours is a story that's definitely one for the books.

I met you last night (technically, early this morning) at China One in Clark Quay. We danced to a couple of songs. You gave me your number. I sent you a text message this morning. We hit it off and the rest is history.

The day I marry a handsome, hot guy - that would really be historical. Come on, let's face the fact: I may not be the ugliest person in the planet but I'm no beauty queen. It would probably be a one-out-of-a-million chance that I can marry a Prince Charming.

Well, I'm not really wishing for a handsome husband. And it's not out of bitterness or sourgraping that I say that. My husband's looks are the least of my concerns. You can ask Circe; she'll have a fine time telling you how she can't comprehend why I fell for that last guy who can't boast about anything in the looks department.

If that little folly with the southern France guy proved anything, it was that it didn't take make-up, high heels or mini skirt to attract someone. And I didn't even have to drink a single alcoholic beverage to keep a conversation going.

But that Guillermo, he must have been really drunk. I mean, what in the world was he thinking when he approached me?!? Me?!? Seriously?! LOL.

Anyway, the best compliment I got last night was not that of a hot guy approaching me to dance with him. It was that of my friend Ben telling me that I had a different aura - that I didn't look or sound bitter anymore. Somewhere along the way, I don't know when or where, I must have dropped the bitter attitude. And truly, I don't know why, this Valentine's day season, I'm still as lovelife-less as always but I'm not feeling bitter about anything or anybody. Maybe, that was the reason - it's probably because of the fact that I'm not feeling anything for anybody at this time.

Bitter or not, though, I still wish for peach roses.

On meeting you

Dear one,

At this time in my life, I guess I'm at that point where I'm as scared of meeting you as I'm scared of not meeting you.

Of course, I'm scared of not meeting you before all the time of the proverbial biological clock run out. Since I would want for us to have kids of our own (I want it so much that I have even prepared names for our kids already.), it scares me if I should not be able to meet the deadline.

On the other hand, I realized that I'm also scared of actually meeting you. I know I've said before that anytime I meet you, the right one, I'm willing to stop everything that I'm busy with these days and start building the family we want to have. No, I haven't changed my mind about that. I will still do that. It's just that... It is scary.

The prospect of so many changes happening all at once in my life scares the hell out of me. I'm so used to working things out solo - solving my problems on my own, and sometimes, even singlehandedly solving other people's problems for them. I get things done.Why, I even take care of my self when I'm sick. I like being with and around friends but I'm just as comfortable being by myself. In fact, I value my me-time so much so that I can't do without it.

When you come into my life, please don't ask me to give up my me-time. I would still want to be able to sit at Starbucks engrossed on a good book or stay up late at night, writing in my blog. I'm not asking for much - just a few hours on a Saturday or Sunday every now and then. While we still haven't got kids, I hope we can take gym classes together or jog around the neighborhood. Then when the kids are old enough, I hope we would be earning enough to take them with us on out-of-town or out-of-the-country trips.

Above and beyond these trivial things, I hope you'll continue to value what I have to say on all matters, most especially on matters that concern our family. If you are the one, dear one, I'd like to believe that between the two of us, you'll be the one with the better judgment. But while I would like to submit to your better judgment, I wouldn't want to lose my voice and will to decide on the important matters and everything related to us and the kids will always be important.

God's time

09 Jan 2013

Dear one,

How long is God's time?

Ninety-nine days, x sad mornings, y failed interviews and one heartbreaking rejection.

In September 2012, while the SFC community was happily anticipating two wonderful events - Ate Dory and Kuya Bart's wedding and Blessed National Conference - I lost my job, not by choice nor by neglect but due to a company redundancy exercise.

The phenomenon of job loss is really nothing new; it happens and it has happened to a lot of people I know. It has never happened to me, though. I didn't have a manual for handling this situation. I wasn't ready.

Yet, in many ways, God had actually prepared me for what lay ahead. In 2011, my application for a personalized employment pass (PEP) had been approved; that meant I had six months (instead of just 30 days) to look for a new job. I had enough savings in the bank to support my living expenses for a considerable period of time. I had vowed to myself that I'd keep the tears at bay until the fifth month was over. After all, of what use are tears? I had time in my hands, I am mature, I am strong - I repeated these to myself like some sort of mantra.

The best preparation that God did, however, had nothing to do with my material needs. He had laid the ground for me to grow my relationships in this community. Aside from the love of my family, it was, in fact, these relationships that had supported me through that storm.

For no matter how strong I believed my self to be, inevitably, there were mornings I woke up finding no purpose to get out of bed. There were interviews that didn't go well and left me feeling inadequate. There was one final interview that went very well but then turned out to be another heartbreaking rejection. During those times of disappointment and self-doubt, it was my prayer warriors in the community who took over. To use the metaphor that Brother Gilbert Hamera himself had used in his sharing last January 2012, my prayer warriors were like the men in the gospel of Mark who did everything in their capacity to be able to carry the paralytic to Jesus. I was that paralytic.

Honestly, I have no idea how many other people in SFC had prayed for me apart from my household, my unit, the East Music Ministry, NOIDs, Mel, Bell and Apaule. I just know I have many earth angels who had knocked on, some may have even banged on, heaven's door for my sake.

I lost my job on September 3. I had a final interview on December 3, got a verbal job offer on December 6 and signed the appointment letter on December 10, five days before the Simbang Gabi even started. A turnaround of 99 days - that was how fast the prayers for me were answered. That was God's time.

In my blog entry last September 15, 12 days after I had lost my job, I had claimed that that all-time low point was my turn for God to work His miracle in my life. Indeed, it IS my turn this time and how generously the Lord has provided for me!

For all of these and all the other blessings that year 2012 has brought me and everyone dear to me, may our faithful God be praised.