5thirty

Friday, December 08, 2006

A Little Music and Beer

Un-planned plans are perhaps some of the best. All of a sudden you get a call, a text "hello, you wanna hang out?" It's even better if youre available and everything works with your schedule, so you just get ready and go.

Last night, i met up with a friend for a little music and beer. It was a nice quiet night, and I walked down the street where we had planned to meet, and we went to a little bar down the road.

Unlike most high-end bars I would see in Manila, and some of the "giddy-filled" ones in Mallorca, this one was the complete opposite. It was completely cozy and laid-back. The bar was of a typical rectangular confuguration like most "locals" and flats in Spain (or maybe Europe). Long, cushioned seats lined the longer sides of this narrow bar and in between them, little round tables, and stools. "Hang your coats up on the walls" the waitress suggested as we settled into our seats. The walls were covered with cork board with coat hangers every 1.5 meters. So i sat on my spot and had my jacket hanging right above my head. On the far end of the bar you see a wall with the name of the local painted on it, and a man playing his acoustic guitar.

We arrived a little early, and had a beer each (one is PLENTY for me) and a conversation. Before we knew it, the local was filling up. Groups of friends came. The guitarrist changed, and more music, with some added humor was played. As the night went into morning, the place grew warmer, the waiters and waitresses served the people as if they were guests at their homes, the would shout out and talk to the live act up on the corner that was the stage, and the people all sang in unison to the all-so familiar spanish contemporary song they grew up with, and 'Catalan Rock'.

As for me, i still have a lot to learn about music in these parts, although what i've heard from Spain in general will take A LOT of getting used to. What I heard last night was alright though, none of your typical commercial pop that all sound the same, just nice, familiar music and good company for a nice, quiet, plan-less night. No stress, no worries.

If only i find a way home that's safe, and i dont bump into some drunken psychos in the middle of the night while walking home, i could have more nights just like this one...

Semplang

Today was the third day of the 'puente', a five-day weekend created by last wednesday's and today's holiday that's left Barcelona virtually empty. It's funny to see a big city suddenly missing out on people.

I have to say though, the long weekend is a good excuse to break the everyday routine of class-review-library that's been going on for 4 months now. Took time to do my own thing, been getting back to doing an old hobby, went out for drinks and at a live music bar, got acquainted with 'Catalan Rock'.

Today's plan was to spend the day out at the Forum, check out the city's plans for urban development in the next ten or so years, and just take a nice, quiet ride on my bike. I took my time to wake up today, did a few things, got on my bike, the day was going great-until it rained. Strangely enough, it's just starting to get cold, and the rains are just beginning. So I turned and hurried back home, pedalled as fast as I could, went up our street, crossed at the intersection, turned up the sidewalk, all in one rapid movement on the slippery wet pavement, and next thing I knew I was on the ground. Aray.

My beautiful day had turned completely upside-down. Next thing I knew, I was painfully walking alongside my bike, with a bruised shin, wet with rain. What to do now?

Know what it's like when you wake up in the morning, look out the window and see the sky's really blue and you just wana go out and do something (ok, i'm a morning person....)? Well, today was somethign like that except te skies was a bright off-white, looking unsure if it wants to turn bright blue or black within the next two seconds. I still was eager to get out and do something, so I did, and i was back home before i knew it, stuck at home with nothing to do...and worse of all, extremely restless. So restless doing little things to make up for 'my day outside' is just driving me crazy.

Finally now, i've been able to wind down and do something with my time that keeps my mind busy-so i'm writing. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day...i'll get up again in the morning, and try again, maybe ill have a little more luck, and some blue skies.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Un Paseo






Proud to be Filipino

Being somewhat "new" in the place i currently live in, people ask me where i'm from, and never is there a time that they are not surprised by my roots.

Like many Filipinos, just like Philippine architecture, food, etc, it is difficult if not impossible to point out a specific 'typology' to something or someone that is 'Filipino'. Since the beginning of time, just as in any other culture, many people have passed through our Islands, and made their mark in it. It is perhaps even impossible to say that there is a culture free of any influence of any other, be it by merely hearing one speak the language of the other, to procreating. But to place these cultures in different 'levels of authenticity' (i'm not sure if that's the right word), i think it would be safe to say for example, that compared to the Chinese, or Indians, the Filipino is a potpourri of many different cultures. So where do I place myself?

I am some 92% Spanish by blood, with the remaining 8% of other races, and Filipino, most definately among them. I was born, and raised in the Philippines, just as my parents, grand parents, and great grandparents were. But does that make me less Filipino than those beautiful, bronze-skinned Filipinos of Malay descent? What about the Chinese that were born and raised there as well? Can it be said that they are less Filipino than the rest?

Now that I am back to my so-called "motherland", I see that i share it with a very large population of Filipinos as well. And some who have been here some 20 years or more at that. I get a kick out of situations like waiting at the Metro for the train to come, and i over hear some Filipinos talking beside me, and then i greet them in Tagalog, and they react really surprised to hear me speak their language-the "Spanish girl" is speaking Tagalog. On my end, i just like surprising them, and in a way, to me, its like being home, speaking the language i grew up with, like a warm hug, or a familiar smile. I am at Spain, the land of my supposed origins (for the most part), and i feel like a foreigner. I see people from the place i grew up, and i am a foreigner to them too. Where do i belong?

As a middle-class, somewhat 'adventurous' girl (adventurous: a spanish girl riding public transportation at Cubao late at night-sad label to be called adventurous just for this dont you think so? But ill call myself this to illustrate where i stand in the complex fabric that makes up Philippine society) i would go do the things i wanted to do, things I loved, went to places I was interested in, places I thought were beautiful. Old Manila was my favorite, for example. I loved Quiapo. The not-so-pleasant smell, the street vendors, (ok, those bottles of "pamparegla" was and always will be a scary sight) all the people, real people, the dirt, the grime, it was wonderful. I would ride jeeps, break my ear drums with those that were "bumabayo", pulled the string on the ceiling that would light up a green, blue, purple, what ever color fancy light bulb would light up to tell the stop (right at the no loading and unloading sign), contribute to the moist, extremely humid air caused by the plastic covers on the jeeps windows when it rained, and arrived at my destination with a smog as a layer of make-up on my face. I couldn't have been happier. And when i got down, i'd have a P5.00 taho by the Engineeing building entrace of the campus for breakfast.

But no matter how integrated i was, no matter how 'normal' i was in going about the regular daily routines of a 'regular Filipino', i was still viewed as a foreigner. I got down from an FX once in Cubao coz it smelled bad (sometimes my friends and i switch FX's coz the music sucks too), and the caller shouts out to me, in what i'd like to call Filipino-English, "What's wrong? What's wrong?" Once, i was at a jeep, and while it stopped ad waited for the light to turn green, a beggar came to the door (taong grasa). He tapped on the knees of the 'regular Filipinos' infront of me, and said "Pahingi ng Piso". When it was my turn for my knee to be shook, he said "Give me one Peso". It was funny, yeah, but it maked you feel singled out-like a foreigner in the country you grew up in-the only place you know to be home.

I arrive in Spain and discover that there is a very large Filipino comunity here. You could go and walk in this 'barrio', speak Tagalog, and be understood by the people around you. There, you'll find a Filipino restaurant, with very authentic Filipino food, complete with a karaoke room and all. There's also a pinoy beauty parlor, and ofcourse, a Filipino church. Yes, Mass is celebrated in Tagalog. When I heard about this place, i thought i just HAD to go. And i've been going there every Sunday since.

The church has a very close resemblance to Mt. Carmel church in New Manila (even the acoustics is bad). The dimensions, etc, all come very close to it, the only exception is that the nave is not as long. Every Sunday, this church is filled with population that is 99% Filipino, and is packed!

I look around and i see hundreds (if not almost a thousand) Filipinos going to mass there. Everyone around me is Filipino, the Mass is in Tagalog, the songs are those of the beautiful ones i grew up in in Tagalog (complete with projector and screenf or teh lyrics). There are children running around, the priest is cool and has a good sense of humor. I feel like im home. But once again, am I?

In a place such as this, I am seen as Spanish. I go and recieve Holy Communion, waiting for my turn to hear, "Katawan ni Cristo", only to hear, "Cuerpo de Dios". It's that Cubao jeep scene all over again.

______________

I look around as i listen to the Mass and i see a people that have left the place they know to be home, like my ancestors who migrated to the Philippines from Spain so many hundred years ago, they are here, and their children will be like mewhen they grow up. But as i look around, i don't see just any kind of people, i see a special breed-a very hard-working people, one that knows how to survive. As far as I am concerned, THIS is Filipino. This is the Filipino all us 'Filipinos' are or should be proud to be. This is the 'Filipino' all Filipinos are I think.

I stood there, in prayer, a stranger-a foreigner to the rest of them on the surface, but was beaming inside. They were 'Filipinos' doing what they do best-survive, and i was damn proud to be among them.

the sweetest song

I Wanna Grow Old With You
by Adam Sandler

I wanna make you smile,
Whenever you're sad.
Carry you around when your arthritis is bad.
All I wanna do,
Is grow old with you.

I'll get you medicine,
When your tummy aches.
Build you a fire if the furnace breaks.
Oh it could be so nice,
Growin' old with you.

I'll miss you, kiss you,
Give you my coat when you are cold.
Need you, feed you.
Even let you hold the remote control.
So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink.
Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink.
Oh I could be the man,
Who grows old with you.

I wanna grow old with you.