5thirty

Lighten Up-Morcheeba

2007-06-20T20:23:00.000Z

I can feel a storm brewing over nothing
We were having fun
There's no harm done there
You need attention
I can see you're sulking
It's about time that you learn to share

Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
I want to play
You're in the way of our sunshine
Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
Just let it go
And I will throw you a lifeline

I don't what happened
To those resolutions
We think we found the truth at last
When it escapes
Inside the mirror is a false impression
I can feel so swollen
When I'm in good shape

Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
I want to play
You're in the way of our sunshine
Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
Just let it go
And I will throw you a lifeline

Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
I want to play
You're in the way of our sunshine
Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
Just let it go
And I will throw you a lifeline

Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
I want to play
You're in the way of our sunshine
Lighten up
It's gonna brighten up
Just let it go
And I will throw you a lifeline

Sa amin

2007-04-24T20:56:00.000Z

No.2 Humabon Street, Kingsville Subdivision, Antipolo, Rizal. Ano na kaya ang itsura? May lubak pa ba sa entrada ng gate 3? Yung iniiwasan ko tuwing pumapasok ako sakay ang aking coche? Anjan pa kaya yung 'Walk-In Foodmart' na bukas hangang gabi, na nagbebenta ng masarap na halo halo pag dating ng tag-init? P10.00 pa kaya ito? Pagpapunta sa bahay namin, wala parin bang laman yung mga 'empty lots' sa Napolen Street? Marami pa ba kayang mga tribike? Nadagdagan na kaya ng mga matutulis na hump yung mga kalsadang papunta sa amin? Tama pa ba yung mga nakabisado ko hanggang ngayon na pag-kanan ko sa isang kalye, kailangan nang apakan yung clutch at itanggal sa gear yung 'gear stick' at huminto kasi merong hump agad. Tapos tuloy tuloy hanggang bahay, hindi ko na kailangan pagisipan, natural na ang galaw ng aking kamay at paa sapagmaneho. Pagdating sa bahay, malamig ang hangin, at dinig yung mga aso. Bubuksan ng daddy ko yung gate at papasok ako. Yung pintuan namin, malaki, at 'natural wood' color, na may mga 'square' na molding. Pagpasok, ramdam ang hangin na galing sa 'galeria' o lanai na parating nakabukas. Iiwan ko yung susi ng kotse sa cahon at papasok ako sa kwarto ko. Iiwan ko yung bag ko sa sahig, sa paanan ng kama. Ganun parin ba kaya yung bahay, pareho nung umalis kami? May tunog yung electic fan pag nakabukas, malamig ang bedsheet paghiga sa kama, at meron kang inaabangan na palabas sa TV, tawag ng isang kaibigan hanggang a las 4 ng umaga paminsan.

Ano kaya?

Crossroads

2007-03-31T05:06:00.000Z

It’s been a while now since the last time I blogged, I had been quite busy with looking for work as an architect, going to work till late at night at the store, and on other days, running to engineering class. After all the job searching and some surprisingly good results, I find myself in a pretty tough position. I now have to make my choice between a Volkswagen Golf and a Ferrari.

I was offered a job at a relatively new all-in-one, architecture, engineering, urbanism, and construction firm, that has recently expanded its practice to the United States and China aside from its local projects in Spain. To make things even better, they made me a pretty good offer, and something more; a shiny new contract. Something I learned that is pretty hard to come by with here in Barcelona (80% of architects here work as free-lance). To make things even better, they are almost literally just a stone throw away from my place.

Then there was this last office/studio of two young architects a few years into their practice. They make your most typical projects, apartment buildings, houses. As with smaller practices (or at least those who care enough to try), there is more attention paid to design. From what I saw, there was enough imagination; it was evident that they valued that extra quality that makes a difference between a roof over your head and architecture. The office felt like a workshop, the kind of environment I like working in. But the job is offered for free-lance architects starting out, and being one has less benefits then a contract.

And so there I was, confused, torn between practicality and idealism. I had coffee with a friend to get some air, let my thoughts out, and for him to understand, I compared the two offices to a Volkswagen Golf and a Ferrari. The studio type office would be the Golf, basic, straight-forward, efficient, classic. No fuzz no frills. And then the big office, a Ferrari, fast, flashy, and turns heads. For some strange reason, fast and flashy never really impressed me. Not in cars, not in clothes, not in people, not in my work.

Then my friend responded to my analogy saying, “I think it’s actually the other way around.” You want the Ferrari. The small office is a Ferrari. The big office is the Golf, it’s the more practical option for your situation (with the contract offered). And then I was lost for words. I never looked at it that way. If I choose the Studio type office, I would be chasing after a dream, a “Ferrari”. While the big office would be the safer choice, the Golf.

So then I came to thinking, realizing, and waking up to the realities of the world that start staring you in the face as you get older. The simpler, more quiet, design/quality oriented practices/work just don’t fit in the picture of the present-day world’s demands of ‘practical, simple, beautiful’. Instead, it is classified as ‘expensive and impractical’. And the ones that jump in the race for success, and money are deemed of as ‘safe’. It makes sense if you're just trying to survive, start out a life for yourself as I am, but then will I be happy?

What is 'sexy'?

2007-03-02T00:00:00.000Z

As many of my friends know I am a big fan of the show Grey's Anatomy. I like seeing people passionate for the work they do, and it brings me back to my college days when I was surrounded by people with the same attitude. After a while, I had more reason to watch the show: Dr. Berke. Why? He's plain and simple 'sexy'.

At the store today, just 15 minutes before closing, two girls came in. I was busy attaching alarms on to the new clothes, and one of them asked me which was our biggest size for a jacket right away. I thought it was strange coz usually people come in, look at the clothes, and if they're interested in something, they ask for a size. In this case, they just went right ahead and asked which was the largest.

"44." I said. And the girl looked worried. I wondered why, she didn't look like she would have any problems getting into our clothes. So i showed her a jacket of our biggest size, and she tried it on. The zipper wouldn't close. It didn't even meet. And that's when I realized what was going on. She was having a hard time finding clothes for her size. But the truth was, she didn't even look all that heavy. Yes, she looked like she could fill the clothes in pretty well, but nothing out of the ordinary. I went over and looked at how the jacket fit, and to see what I can do to help, and she put on a shy smile as I tried to see what could be done. "See? It doesn't fit" she said. I, on the other hand, really couldn't believe my eyes. I told her i'd find something that might fit and I got her a couple more jackets. Some closed, some didn't and the whole time, she still kept the shy smile. I don't know if as many women would be brave enough to try on as much seeing that the chances would be small. I admired her for it. And then we looked around the shop, talked a bit, and I informed them that it's true that our womens' sizes are a bit smaller, but that i swore she didn't look like she had a problem fitting in them. And then she and her friend told me that it was a good thing our store even had a 44, because other well known Spanish brands only have clothes up to 42! I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The girls said thanks, and went their way.

But then it got me thinking, aside from the fact that the clothes here seem to condition the size of its customers (ill blog about that in another entry), she didn't even look like she needed such a big size. And why? She carried a big size but was sexy! She was curvacious, and she didn't have to be a size 36 to be so sexy.

Some 20 minutes later, I was at the platform at the metro waiting for my train, watching TV being projected on the screen between the tracks of the trains. And then, among all the trivial stuff, they showed the 'Top 10 Sexiest Women' of all time. I suppose it was something done by a magazine, but I was delighted to hear who was on top, and I thought she could actually deserve it: Angelina Jolie. I always thought that she was sexy in her own way. It's a given that her looks and her figure can easily take her to the top of that list, but was it just about that? I don't believe so.

Sexy, I believe is all about attitude. If you feel good about yourself and you live a good life (i mean that you're happy) you could come off as sexy even without knowing it. I was delighted to hear that Angelina Jolie got in this list because I always liked how she isn't the kind of celebrity that puts herself in the spotlight, rather, she goes about her business, like a real person would, supports causes I admire, and in the end, the spotlight follows her!

Another celebrity in this list was Scarlett Johanssen. She's been pretty popular among my male friends lately. Once a friend told me that he liked how she was sexy being herself, that she looked great being just how she was; that she doesn't starve herself. In her own way, with the right weight for her body, she was sexy. Not in the same way as Angelina Jolie is, but sexy in her own right. She carries herself well, she had the right weight on for her body., she looks healthy.

So what is 'sexy' then?

I watched Grey's Anatomy again tonight after a long time due to my work schedule, and i saw Berke again.....sexy! He was brillant, straight, passionate, devoted. When I told my flatmate that what I thought about him, (ok, i know, i shouldn't ask guys if other guys are sexy...haha) he said he wasn't into people with too much color. But in the end, it isnt about the color, nor your celebrity status, nor being a size 44+. It's all about attitude, carrying yourself well, living well, being happy.

Yeah, that girl who tried on that sweater may not have fit into our clothes, but who cares? If that's her weight, then it is. She need not be skinny to be sexy, she just has to think it and believe she is, after all, she already had the curves to back it up!

Being born at 22

2007-02-28T23:57:00.000Z

When I was young, I always wanted to know what it would be like to live abroad. The whole idea of everything new thrilled me. Of course back then, I was about 9, was growing up in a highly Americanized culture. Everything was American, but in the Filipino version of it. I saw American sit coms, watched CNN, I was just like every Filipino, with his ideal picture of life; American.

It's funny though how as I got older, I learned what consumerism was about, saw its effects, and began to hate it. I was asked to design a shopping mall once for design class, one of these one-stop, '...we've got it all for you...' places. I couldn't stomach it, I hated what it stood for. I despised the project, couldn't stomach designing such a building. In the end, I had to though, but I didn't go down without a fight, I wrote a paper alongside the plate. It wasn't required, but I just felt I had to be heard.

Around this time, I had grown out of my childish 'American dreams', and loved the everyday Filipino life I was living. I still wanted to move off to a place I always wanted to go to, Spain; Barcelona to be exact. I couldn't and still can't explain why, it just felt right. But this moving out wouldn't be born of a desire to leave a life i had behind, a life I truly loved in every way. Instead, it would be a continuation, just in a different setting. And then surprise! A few years later, here I am, in Barcelona.

I thought arriving in a place such as this, a place you feel a certain affinity to would be easy. Little did I know that it would be a little tougher. I had to learn a new language, adjust to a whole new way of life, it was like being born again-but with a past behind you. Back then, I went through the usual adjustment phase, happy-sad, confused, all at the same time. But the truth is though, it is quite interesting, now that I look at it all. A friend asked me some days ago if I missed home (Manila) still, and I replied; "Home will always be home, but this is a new start. I will always feel connected to the place I was born and grew up in, everything I am, how I think, is all molded by that place. But just as I lived there for a certain part of my life, I see my living here just the same as when I lived there, just in a different setting." You continue on with the rest of your years ahead of you, start anew but already being the person you are. Learning how to live anew, while already having had a 'life'.

I thought of writing this blog because of a chat conversation I had with a friend this morning. He was reviewing for his Architecture Board Exams, just as many of my batch mates are. I would have been doing the same too, if I never left. If I never left, I would know exactly where I was, more or less what I should be doing, where I was going. Maybe I would have my license too in this year together with the rest of them, those bunch of numbers, that piece of paper that blinds employers and clients into believing that you're to trust with their homes, projects. Instead, I am here, a 2 year-old.

A 2 year-old with a 22-year old past. Just like the rest of 'em, yes, I am learning my ABC's, practicing them as I speak in the new language I now speak. But part of what I have to learn as well, is how to errect buildings, with my fresh new ABC's and number system. Being a 2 year-old with a 22 year old past, also means I have old perceptions of things that I have to look at in a new way. Old perceptions like how I would like to have that piece of paper with numbers to allow my future employers and clients to sleep better at night, and to be brave enough to face the possibility that to be able to get that here, I will have to put up a pretty bloody fight. That among other things...

I have to say though that being two again has plenty of 'ups', maybe more than 'downs' as the days go by. I get to meet new friends, learn to have a new perception of things, eat new food, and guess what more (my 2 year-old counterparts in Manila would be so jealous); I can ride my bike now, anywhere I want, and unlike never before!

In the end, instead of feeling like i'm getting left behind by my peers back in Manila, I see it a new way; yes, I may have just finished 'crawling' again, as they are all running about. But that doesn't matter, because i'm learning it all anew for a new place, a new life. Soon enough i'll be running too.

Good luck to all my friends back home reviewing for the boards! I would have loved to be there and be part of it. I wish you all the best, and many prayers!

Listen to this!

2007-02-14T23:09:00.000Z

I thought today was going to be another typical day at the store. My favorite part of my job is helping the customers out, chatting with them, figuring out what they would like if they go so far as to ask my opinion on the clothes they choose. But ofcourse, there are also those that don't want any help, there are all types. Today though, I assisted one of my favorite customers so far.

I greeted a guy in his mid-twenties that entered the store, like I do with most people who visit, and he responded quite nicely to my greeting, "Hi, I'm looking for something to buy for a 22-year old girl, I put my trust in any advice you could give me on what I should choose. Can you help me?" How sweet is that, I thought. A GUY was going SHOPPING with NO IDEA what to get for a girl, but was doing it anyway for his girl. So i helped him out, at first i thought it was a huge responsibility; sweet guy choosing something for his girl, I couldn't make any mistakes, it should be perfect. So I asked him for some kind of lead, what was her style, what did he have in mind/what would he like to get her. And then I showed him what would be good to get for spring, new 'happier' colors than those of the winter collection, what material would be suitable for the weather, etc. To start, I showed him what we had for the spring-summer collection. skirts, capri pants, jeans, some really cool and some really pretty tops. Then he pointed to a pair of capris. Great I thought, we have a starting point! "And her size?" I asked him. "I don't know" he said. The more unsure he was of what he was doing, the sweeter the whole thing was! So we figured out her size, from the body type she had that he descried to me. After looking at what there was of the things he wanted to see, we finally found a pair that he liked. It was a khaki-colored pair of capris, with pockets in the side, and a red hooded top. It was really cute I think, and he basically picked the top out himself, so that's even nicer, coz it's his choice. He got a set of cool, comfy, easy-going clothes for what he painted in my mind to be an easy-going chick. "If she likes it, i'll tell her I picked it, and if she doesn't, ill tell her it was the girl from the store that chose it!" Well, what do you know, he also had a sense of humor!

I took it to the cash register, and gift-wrapped it for im. "I'm going to be late!" He said. It was almost perfect, he went out and bought quite a difficult gift for a guy to get for his girl, 10 points for effort on that one! And then I said to him as I placed the package in a bag, "If all guys got gifts for their girls like you did, there would be many happy girls in the world." And then he said something which I wasn't sure what I would make of, "I hope this one lasts."

Lost in Translation

2007-02-10T20:18:00.000Z

Everyday gets better and better. I've gotten off the roller coaster I've been on for the past year and a half. The world around me has stopped spinning so fast, the world has ceased to be upside-down, and my feet have finally touched the ground again. I am finally settling into my new life, the 24-years-and-8-months me living 'now' and whats ahead for me. I'm finally in the stage where things around me are familiar already, and I do things regular settled people do, errands, shopping for your daily needs.

I woke up today at 9:30, not too early, not too late. I felt like it was going to be a great day, I've been enjoying work more and I had a nice farewell dinner for one of my work buddies the night before. I got up, had a nice quick shower, put on my favorite skirt, a comfy sweater, and my trusty old boots. The weather was great again, sunny weather with the cool breeze of winter.

I set off to find something i needed to buy for my parent's trip over to see me, and I wasn;t sure if they'd have what I was looking for in this particular store. And great as my day was starting off to be, they had exactly what I wanted, for a price much cheaper than I expected, and it was the last piece waiting for me! I paid for it at the cashier, happy, content, had a little chat with the lady who took my payment, and I headed off to do my next errand, fetchign my computer at a freind's house.

I thought it was perfect that after doing that walk from the house to the mall to buy the inflatable bed I had to buy, there was a tram stop right outside the mall that stopps close to where my friend lives. I hopped in, and settled in a seat nearby, and decided to punch the ticket in in a few moments since my friend's house was still going to be a few more stops away. After less than two minutes of my getting in the tram, and sitting down, a man who worked at a tram with a device for swiping tickets came towards me. I thought, perfect, now I don't have to get up and do it myself. So when it was my turn to give my ticket, he swiped it, and to my surprise, he did it twice. And then the man asked me if it was 'valid'. I said, "Ofcourse, I just used that ticket the night before for the train." and he said, yes, so it says here, but is it valid? "And I said yet it is." Before I knew it, he pulled out a ticket pad and wrote me a notice for a fine to be paid for not paying for my ride at the tram. I asked him why he gave me that for and he said that I was making up stories, that I told him the ticket was 'valid' when in reality the last time I used it was last night and not when I had entered the tram. And then I realized what was going on. What I thought meant 'valid', as in, that the ticket has credit and I can pay for the tram ride, to him meant that it was validado, that I had already paid. And I was telling him I did, when the ticket says I hadn't because in reality, I really hadn't paid. And I was telling him the truth, although the truth to me, was a lie to him, for his understanding of the word. At this point, it was too late. I had been branded as a thief of the tram company, a delinquent citizen, that had a ticket full of credit and for some reason, to them, decided to take a free ride that morning. In the end, the headache cost me 40 euros.

So much for feeling so settled, I thought. I couldn't even understand the meaning of a word that would cost me 40 euros in the end. I was a stranger again at the place that was trying to turn into my home. There I was, trying to help myself whichever way I could in this normal, every day situation (or at least for the 'lucky' ones). And I was helpless, lost in translation.

STOREies

2007-02-07T22:30:00.000Z

People ask me what it's like working my 6-hour or 8-hour shifts at the clothes store where I work, and to tell you the truth, it really is a lot more than just standing all day and fixing clothes.

The 'Capoeirista'

"Four dots. Imagine four dots on the floor." My Chilean work buddy decides to entertain us on a slow Tuesday afternoon at the store with some of his new Capoeira moves. "They form a square, one foot goes here, the other there...see? It's easy!" Next thing I knew, he was on his hands, and his feet were in the air. He's a pretty cool guy, very independent for his age, out in Barcelona on his own at a young age. "See? It's easy!" he says, doing a little more capoeira moves. Outgoing and adventurous as his moves are in practicing this martial art, he's a breath of fresh air to be around with.

What the F#%k?!

I asked the girls once, "Which piece of clothing do you think is the worst in the store?" I pointed to one i knew i'd never wear and would never thinkof designing had i been the designer. It was a green and grey knit top, with fake white fur sewed on to the front of it, in the shape of a square maze. I thought I was looking at something strange until my work mate brought over a shirt with three sleeves, the third one coming out of its chest area, like a trunk would off the face of an elephant. "This would go with three-legged pants" I thought. We hadn't sold a single piece of that one.

Sweet German Guy

A guy in what I thought would be in his early 30's comes into the store, and tries on a sweater around the area where one of the girls and I were tidying up some of the clothes at the shelves. Typically German in build, he was tall, long-limbed, white, lanky. He has brown hair that kind of flopped on to the sides of his head. "How does this fit?" he asked my work buddy. She replied in English that it was a little small for him. Then he started asking more questions and she turned to me since she started having a hard time with the laguage. So I attended to him. He turned to me and I saw the face of a little boy asking him momma to help him out with his clothes. The sweater's sleeves only barely reached his wrists, and he asked me innocently, cheerfully what I thought about it. So I told him maybe he should try a larger size, and then he put on a larger one and was happy with it after he felt more comfortable in it. With his cheery, innocent, child-like disposure, he asked me if the color would be good for spring. His friendly, trusting, happy energy was just sweet. Later on, he tried on another top, and would come out of the dressing room to ask me if it looked nice, and would take my opinions on everything he asked. We chatted (as I like doing with the clients I attend to) and so I found out he was German, and he found out I was from the Philippines. As he paid for his purchases, he got discounts the store was giving for the day, and I told him, "Great day for shopping isn't it? You get all these discounts." And in his sweet goofy manner, he replied, "Yes, it is a great day for shopping, I got nice clothes, discount, and I met you." The best part of the whole thing was that it didn't come off as some flirty comment at all. I laughed, thanked him for coming to the store, and continued with the rest of my tasks.

Dream Dog

A client went in the store once, with a three-month old French Bulldog. For those who don't know it, i'm crazy about dogs with crumpled faces. I came up to her, went crazy over the puppy, and she let me carry it. The dog fell right to sleep in my arms. Then I jokingly told her, "If you'd like, you can go check out our clothes and leave him with me!" She laughed, amused at my attraction to the dog, and let me have him for the rest of the time she was at the store.

Morocco, Warm and Cool

The best part of working at the store i'm at is the people, one of them being the Moroccan security guard. You 'settle in' into a conversation with him as easily and comfortably as you would on a warm, sandy beach under the shade of a coconut tree. The time at the store becomes that much happier with the little bits of conversation this work buddy of mine chats up when you're around fixing clothes up at his area.

The Warrior's Reminder by Erykah Badu (Mama's Gun)

2007-02-01T14:10:00.000Z

I am awake
My mind is free
I am creative
I love myself
My will power is strong
I am brave
I practice patience
I don't judge folks
I give not to recieve
I don't expect
I accept
I listen more than I talk
I know I'll change
I know you'll change
I'll hold on one more day
I start over when necessary
I create my own situations
I am cosmic
I don't have the answers
I desire to learn
I am the plan
I am strong
I am weak
I want to grow
I know I will
I take on responsibility
I hide myself from no one
I'm on my path
Warriors walk alone
I won't let my focus change
Taking out the demons in my range

Thats Mama's Gun

Now what?

2007-01-29T11:40:00.000Z

I've finally got that big test over with, and it feels GREAT. I don't know what the results are yet, but whatever it is, it's time I get started with what's next for me; updating my portfolio and looking for an arki job. I can't wait to find one.

Towards the end of my test period, I managed to find a part time job at a clothes store. Growing up you wonder what it would be like to work in McDonald's or something like that. It looks like fun, you think. Then when I was 7 I got a chance to actually try it. McDonald's Greenhills (Is it still there?). It was great, I had my own little striped yellow and white uniform, of a style that McDonald's had in the late 80's. I felt like a big girl. 18 years later, I get a part time job at a clothes store, and it's a whole different picture now. You work coz you've got bills to pay, and you stay standing attending to people 8 hours a day on your 2-day weekend shift. It's not a matter of wanting to feel like a big girl anymore, coz now youre way past 'big girl' and you look at little kids and wish you were 7 again. Your legs feel like you could barely stand after, but that's about the only downside to it. My co-workers are a great bunch; we're like the United Nations. There are Perubians, a Moroccan, an Argentinian, a Chilean, there's someone from Poland, your share of Spaniards, and the Filipino delegate, me. It's great coz youre all basically in the same situation, and about the same age, doing the same thing. Three of us are doing some kind of licensure exam. One for agriculture, one for psychology, and mine, architecture. Another is a chemistry student, another does humanities, and there are other studies too. It's nice coz the stories and experiences you share are understood. The company is great to work for too with our situation because they offer a considerable amount of flexibility to the hours you need for school plus, you get 50% discount on the clothes ofcourse!

So anyway, now is time for the next step. I've got that job going, now to work on my career-whatever the outcome of the test. Now is the exciting part, the part where you wonder, where will end up working? And now is the part where you also do a lot of hoping; hoping that you will be given an opportunity to prove yourself to your possible emoployers. Hoping you will be noticed among those who are educated and trained in the same city, in their standards. Hoping you might finally find this job youre looking for, and hoping you'll be happy working there.

For now though, I'll take a break, maybe ill start on that portfolio tomorrow or the day after. Ill take the time to enjoy this little window for rest while i have it, and start fresh with what i have coming for me next.

Love.

2007-01-28T23:18:00.000Z

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always preserves. Love never fails. "

I don't think any other phrase or verse mentioned in a Homily has ever stuck as much as this one did this morning.

Love. Growing up, and sometimes to this day, I still don't find it very easy to say the word. All throughout my life, i've felt it, although at home, it isnt a word that is said to eachother very often, but when i do hear it said by someone from my family, it brings me to tears. This is not to say I dont feel love, or give it. The truth is, as much as it was a too 'cheezy' for the culture we had at home, i also felt and still feel that it is a big word.

The Beatles sing:

All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.
Love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love, love.
All you need is love, all you need is love,
All you need is love, love, love is all you need.

And yet i wonder, what does it really mean? I may not be too vocal about it, but I find it is one of the most important, most beautiful words in the world. It is sacred, not to be messed with. Love. That feeling that makes you happy, sad, hurt, all at the same time. Love. A word that brings people to do many things that people who are 'out of love' think are crazy.

You can't buy it, its not to be taken, only to recieve. It is to be given away, with nothing in return. I say it is color, silence, a whole lot of laughter, a familiar face, remembering someone or being remembered.
A whole lot of nothings that are the great somethings in life.

Love. When there is just the two of you alone, apart, but together, and almost feel as if he or she is next to you. When nothing need be said and all is understood, and all is accepted.

When the butterflies have gone, and you're left with eachother.

Loving yourself, your neighbor, your God.
Loving yourself and not being selfish nor conceited.
Being yourself.

Love. What is life without it? It ceases to be one.

Love. Try as we might, we will never able to define it, only describe it.
I can only pray, that may my life be always full of it.

Flying Away

2007-01-12T20:29:00.000Z

I like daydreaming, letting my thoughts wander, aspiring for something, being inspired. One of the things I find most important in life is the ability to do just this.

I'm down to my last to weeks of reviewing for my version of what my peers in Manila would call an 'Architecture Board Exam'. And today, i went to engineering class, thinking it wouldn't be difficult to still learn something new, add something more, more formulas, new procedeures, etc. After two hours of staring at the black board and listening to the professor, i thought, i'd be better off reading Chinese. I got up and left. I thought, i shouldn't kill myself over forcing three semesters worth of engineering subjects in five months together with having had studied some six more subjects.

I called some of the people closest to me, and let out my grief. And being the good friends and family they are, they consoled me, and let me hear the sweet words i wanted to hear, that i had already done enough. I have to admit, i knew i had done enough already, and my knowing it should be enough, but sometimes, it helps to hear it from someone else too.

As I walked home, I thought, all these technical aspects I have to be tested on, these will not be things that will make me a better architect, not in my book. Everybody can learn to draw, everyone can be good at engineering, these can all be learned. It may cost some people, but with time, it can all be learned and done. What will make me the architect I aspire to be is to do what I love to do best, let my mind be, explore new ideas, 'play'. And this can not be taught, only inspired.

I remembered my days at the University, any day where i let my mind wander, let my mind 'fly away', these were the times I was at my best, produced best results, was very happy, was high, literally 'flying away'.

After five months of studying nothing but the 'nitty gritty' of the practice, things that I value too, but enjoy less, I realized its been a while since I was able to let my mind free and explore new ideas. In focusing on all these technical problems, i hadn't 'played' for so long, and life's been pretty dull. I remembered the days in school back at home where I would study these technical subjects too, but also had 'Design' to think of. My mind 'flew away' when I drove, washed dishes, sat quietly at my desk holding a pencil facing a clean sheet of paper. With so much time away from all my daydreaming, I feel a part of me is ignored, I feel like I am incomplete.

In the end, I will, and I want to have all these technical abilities. As my friend Leandro put so well in his blog, as quoted from his dad, that "People are like mango trees, and we don't bear fruit until we are pruned, trimmed, hacked, and burned.", I too will have to get this process over and done with. And no doubt it will make me a better architect in the sense that it will. But i wish it won't take too long 'coz I'd like to take flight again soon.

2:17 am

2007-01-10T01:16:00.000Z

I don't normally stay up till this time in the morning for no reason, which is probaly why it feels strange (but nice) that im having my second breakfast muffin and orange juice.

My mind is all over the place; everywhere but here in my room, in my bed where its supposed to be.

The test that is to give me my license is coming up in two weeks. The slow, exhausting process of gathering information and studying is hopefully about to end.

I just found a job! Part time, but it will pay rent and feed me till i find a real one. The 'next big thing' has started. My brother was excited about it...he gets to keep my room at home. As for me, i'm just happy and eager to get started with life here. I sleep better at night now too(ok, not tonight...but you know what I mean) knowing I will am employed again. It would also be cool to loosen up with the budget a bit and not think too much when I go grocery shopping.

I have a new set of people to add to my list of long-distance relationships, this evening, I spoke to my mom, dad, brothers, and even the dog through skype. What i might hear through a conversation while preparing meals or at the dinners are all summed up for me now through email or a skype conversation. Oh well, we can't have everything, we want, can we?

I started reading a book about China, "Todo Bajo El Cielo" (All Under Heaven), a novel about a spanish woman from Paris who goes to China to fetch her late husband's remains and discovers this new whole other world. It would be interestig to see a Spanish view of the East. Meanwhile, a part of me is awakened, a part of me that once called that world home. The person i was, the person I am now, has evrything to do with that place, how will i fare in this part of the world coming from where i come from? How are the people I left back home? Yes, I know, these are not exactly the best things to ponder on especially when you're trying to settle in a new place, but I can't help it, I've never listened to so much Filipino music, and it just feels so good to speak Tagalog when you have the chance. I hope this doesn't fade.

I'm looking at a blank canvas, paintbrush in hand, paint tubes infront of me. Now toget started with the painting! I can't wait to get my hands dirty.

I guess I should go now, take my mind back from my books, my new job, home (And for heaven's sake, China!) and take it to bed.

A Little Music and Beer

2006-12-08T20:19:00.000Z

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

2006-12-08T19:51:00.000Z

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.

Un Paseo

2006-12-03T21:31:00.000Z

Proud to be Filipino

2006-12-03T20:26:00.000Z

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

2006-12-03T20:21:00.001Z

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.

from Content by Rem Koolhaas

2006-11-05T12:50:00.000Z

"The beuty of Berlin, its opacity, complexity, its heaviness, the richness of its ghosts. The abundance of good intentions that somehow went wrong. The pressure of shame imposed by more and more monuments. The obligation to remember, combined with the surprising amnesia (where did the wall go?). How far it is removed from everything. How refreshingly German it remains. Its grey. Its stubbornness. Its lack of doubt. The meticulous mediocrity of its new substance. How old what was modern looks. How fresh what is ancient. How good what was Communist. How Chinese what is new."

Good Architect, Architect

2006-11-04T22:42:00.000Z

What defines a 'good architect'? I guess there are many answers to this question, as the answer would be a matter of opinion. But i'd like to think the 'good ones' aren't driven by money or fame. I mean, ok, we all have to earn a living, eat, support families, but money alone shouldnt be the objective. And neither should it be fame. Yes, you need to make it known that you and your craft exist, but too much of it would be distracting, don't you think so? I like associating words like passion, devotion, imagination, and play to the definition. Like an athlete that was born to play football, and then he grew up to be Zinedine Zidane or Ronaldinho.

Good architecture cannot be 'faked', just as, try as you might, will never be able to play like Zizou or Ronnie. You may be good, but never in the same way they are (and they, never like you either). It is not superficial, it has a 'soul'.

There's also a difference between a building that says "Look at me!" and one that at a minimum, appears to be stark and plain, but turns heads.

Then there are those that are just timeless, like Mies' German Pavilion in Barcelona, and others that are a product of their era, that wouldn't be the same if it were made in another time, and place. These too, are 'classics'.

Interestingly enough, truly great and magnificent architecture could even be manifested by void-more than in a built-up space. I love the idea of it.

I better get down from the clouds now, before i drift further on. I'm half way through the my review for what is to be my 'board exams' in January. My daily topics to study include pipe dimensions, construction details, and shear and moment diagrams. And i'm thinking, is this what's standing between my credibility as an architact and me? At the very least, i'd just like to be recognized as one (Being a good architect, i hope will follow in the years to come). I mean, sure, sound construction, and good utility installations will spell the difference between a great building and a leaky, stinky, God forbid, structurally unsound one but...oh well, i've got no excuse. I just have to try and get this test done and over with.

I guess what i'm trying to say is, i dream to be an architect that can give more than safe, comfortable shelter. What's more, id like to get on it already, get off the books and just 'play'. Hopefully i spend enough hours at it too, and learn enough to get a game going, put up a good fight-if not become Zizou or Ronnie in their better days.

Today

2006-11-04T22:27:00.000Z

Pretty good day...

It got cold all of a sudden. Usually, by this time of year, it is already starting to get a little cool, but last Monday and Tuesday, i had to go home and change into summer clothes (Yup! Global weather changes are now starting to get really alarming). But as expected, the cold that is just lurking around the corner, and could show up any time, and it did some three days ago. So i had to do some shopping!

Bought a few things for the cold. I like to shop when it's time to shop, but nothing more. I like keeping things simple-although there are some exceptions ofcourse, like that shoe you saw on the store window on your way home, and that really nice jacket...you get the idea. So i went into the stores, got what i needed, and left.

As usual, Las Ramblas was packed. There were more mimes than usual, aside from the regular birds (chickens and exotic japanese birds), turtles, fish, hamsters, rabbits, iguanaa on sale. There were the usual flower stalls Las Ramblas are famous for. Then there's the people from all over, and walkign all over too. You'll have to kind of weave through them to get where youre going.

On my way to meeting a friend, i listened to a didgeridoo band, spanish style. Pretty cool.

Met up a a friend, went to have lunch at a truly authentic hole-in-the-wall Pinoy resto at what i call Barcelona's "little Manila". Had Sinigang na Hipon, and Adobo. Yup, in Barcelona.

Saw a pretty interesting tea salon with a board up front: "Menu 10.50e + 30 minutes siesta".

Now home, looking at a pile of books im supposed to be reading. Guess i gotta go and get started!

What if...

2006-10-12T14:37:00.000Z

People who know me know that blood makes me weak. I step into the hospital, and that all-so-familiar scent of cotton balls damp with alcohol brings me memories the needles that would prick me when i was a little girl.

I remember my dad carrying me away from the doctor's clinic at the end of a hall way at the third floor of the Makati Medical Center, where my pediatrician saw patients. I was probably about four or five then. I had just recieved my yearly "birthday gift" from the doctor (this was the only reason i didnt look forwrd to my birthday, coz i knew that within a few days, i was going to be vaccinated for something). Lollipop in my mouth (my favorite was grape, of those jack-and jill ones with the little drop of candy that settles between the stick and the thing that is the candy itself when they made it-it was my favorite part). I was already some 300 meters away from the door of my pediatrician's clinic, "Tito Mike" we called him. It seemed he was the pediatrician of all kids my age. Even if it was deed was done, I was still crying. Crying and trying to keep my lollipop-flavored saliva from drooling out of my mouth. I had my arms around my dad's shoulders, i looked down and i felt WAY tall. I felt safe. It was over, and the elevator that was the first promising sign that i was going home was closer to me than Tito Mike's clinic. I was leaving, and I wasn't going to terrorize the other kids innocently waiting for their turn to be "bitten by the ant".

There were other similar instances too. My teeth were a long-term project that started when i was nine or ten. I had a severe case of over-bite, and to make it worse, big teeth. If something was not done, my teeth would have crowded my mouth like china with its population well over a billion. The saga starts with my seeing the family dentist. I remember as vividly as i remember that moment my dad carried me out of Tito Mike's office, the day i saw the injection for anesthesia that was to prick my gums. I was horrified.

I sat at the chair, nervous, but didn't really know what was going to happen, so i sat, and waited patiently, wasn't too scared-didnt know what there was to be afraid of-YET. Then my cousin, some 3 years younger than i, daughter of my uncle, appears holding this giganormous injection. Worst of all, the whole thing was stainless steel (im scared shitless by stainless steel things that pierce my skin, it looks cold, painful, mercyless). It even had something to support the thumb to push the needle in. I freaked out. The last thing i remembered was that my cousin was scolded and told to get out of the cubicle, and then it was all tears, bloody saliva swirling down the little drain for spitting, and blood-drenched cotton buds I had to bite into.

I don't remember ever going back to see my uncle anymore after that, because we had started working with an orthodontist and a "pediatric dentist" she reccomended to us. So i went to see her.

We came into her clinic, my mum and i, somewhere in Makati Ave. The clinic was "all so pretty". Toys, bright colors everywhere. But I wasnt going to be decieved. Not even by the dentist's attempt to sound gentle and sweet as she talked to me. I sat still, waited for what was to be my fate in her chair. What was there that had to be hidden by all the bright colors and fluffy stuffed toys? It was only a matter of time before i found out...the first thing she did was open a drawer full of fancy supposedly "fun and cute" sunglasses. I may have only been ten, but how dare she think i was born yesterday! I remember thinking that she wasnt fooling me. "Which one would you like to wear?" She asked with a smile. And i said, "None. I wana see it." One thing that always made my mum laugh was that i would be scared shhitless but i always wanted to see what was going on. And so she proceeded to extracting one of my molars, while trying to hide the pliers from my horrified face. It looked friendlier than the injection at my uncle's office, but i still somehow knew this was gonna hurt. I imagine it was a struggle for her to get her job done, coz the next time i had an appointment, she put me to sleep. I was to drink this green medicine, and wake up one-tooth less without even knowing it. But then...i woke up right at the middle of it. As i opened my eyes, and my vision cleared, i saw the pliers right at my face, and who knows what other instruments in my mouth! I panicked, almost swallowed that molar that was just extracted right at the time i woke up, got up from my chair, and ran out of the clinic, down the stairs, and into the street. I didn't know where I was going, I didn't care. I wanted to be anywhere but in the clinic.

And then, i grew up. I was recomended to another dentist, and with him, my fears were finally calmed down, and i was no longer afraid. His clinic was all bright and spacious. He came in, had all his instruments prepared, and layed them all out infront of me. My mom was surprised at what he did and asked him why he wasn't hiding them, and he said, "Why should I? Shes going to see them anyway." And then i knew THIS was my kind of dentist.

As usual, i wanted "to see". "Let me see! Get me a mirror!" I had a mirror held up to my face so i could see all that they were doing. He explained everything to me, step by step, and prepared me for what was to come next. It went very well. I would freak out at the sight of blood, as always, but it was all cool. I had many other appointments with that same dentist, and wasn't even afraid when they surgically removed all my wisdom teeth some years later.

Fast forward to the present, i've been addicted to watching "Anatomia de Grey", or "Grey's Anatomy" as most of you might know it. Best of all, my flat mate is a 3rd year med student, so i have someone to pay attention to answer my questions, "Why did that happen? What caused that? Is that bad?" I watch it with the same interest and attention i had when i studied first aid with the Philippine National Red Cross in Manila. Strange enough, even if i can't stand the sight of gory wounds, blood, etc, i am amazed by the art/profession of Medicine. I browsed through some of the books my flatmate has in his room, and i saw all the intricate details that make up the human body, its design. That it has limits, that it heals, is all beautiful.

As i watch "Anatomia", i marvel at the lives of these doctors. Your life is your work and your work is a vocation. You don't get any rest, you practically live in the hospital. You don't always get to eat, sleep even rest when you want to. Everyday you learn something new, each patient, each case is unique as the human beings that are taken into the hosital. You grow a little everyday. And then there's dealing with the patients, their families, their lives are in your hands. THEIR LIFE IS IN YOUR HANDS. Your profession is one that literally improves, and saves lives. I don't know if the camaraderie between interns, doctors, and all that work there together is as sweet as they portray it in the series, but even that looks great.

So what if...i had chosen to study medicine...just what if...

Naah, id be more harm to the patient if i faint at an operating room. I wouldn't be any good to a child that comes into the emergency room with with his knee open from a bike accident if i closed my eyes right?

I guess ill just have to leave it to the doctors then. Kudos to them all!

My New Beetle

2006-10-11T22:06:00.000Z

I have found a new way to experience the joys of going on the road! And there's even more to it than the beetle i left behind; it is easier to park, doesn't need gasoline, doesn't emit harmful elements into the air, is easier to maintain, and could run on more areas than just the street! It even has less tires!!

Yup! It's my bike!

Same sunlight-on-my-face (and pollution too), wind in my hair WITH MUSIC (thanks to my mp3 player) experience i had with my beloved beetle, but now more environment, and pocket friendly.

I've been riding my bike since early this year, taking me to and from work, and just about anywhere i want to go that is within biking distace. But never have i used it and enjoyed it more than now.

As i left school today, i unchained my bike from the rack set aside for bicylces at the university, and set off for the bike lane. Going home from school is always my favorite part of the day, because not only does it mean that i'm done with my study hours for the day, but coz it's all downhill till the apartment. Wide roads, tree-lined bike lane, (having a bike lane is plenty already) people walking past, people walking toward you not looking where theyre going, a pigeon that almost flew onto my face, rollerbladers, mommies with baby seats at the back of their bikes, businessmen in suits on their bikes. I raced down our street, catching the green lights, switching the road for the side walk whenever it was convenient.

Instead of going into the apartment building, i did an extra round around Plaza España today. The light outside was just too tempting to resist. It was 6pm, not dark, nor too sunny, people just getting out of work, winding down, taking their kids out to the park. I had my ipod on, and it was playing a good selection of songs. I drove past more tree-lined streets, past Plaza Joan Miro, went along the Gran Via. I stayed out biking a little while more, just enjoying everything all at once. There's something so great about just being able to go out there, clear your mind, and go where the road takes you, for as far as your legs can take you.

More places and people should really be more bike friendly. It's good exercise, it doesn't pollute the air, doesn't create traffic. And best of all, it's just pure fun.

Strawberries and Cream

2006-10-11T16:48:00.000Z

The days i had my little strawberries-and-cream (for those who don't know, and there are MANY, the color is actually slightly pink), now 44-year old, engineering wonder were some of the most enjoyable days of mt life.

It was love at first sight.

I remember looking at what second hand vintage beetles were being sold at the yard of a VW shop in pampanga. There were 70's models being set-up, some having parts changed to suit its owner's taste and personality. There was an orange one with cream interiors, small wheels (VW Beetles have relatvely larger sized wheels than newer cars), a sporty new small steering wheel. Another older one was being restored to something more y taste; it was a mid-late 60's model, and being restored to its original state. It was forest green, had its original interior set-up, details, etc.

We proceeded to the yard of the shop to see what other beetles were being sold, and there was a sporty apple green 1302 being sold. Fully restored, ready to be driven out. We looked on, saw a few others. And then there was this particular one that stood out. An old, somewhat neglected white one. It had a little rust (normal for cars of its age), was full of dust, didnt have a good back seat, it lacked one window winder, among other things, but it was beautiful. The owner took it to the shop to have a minor repairs done, and decided to have it sold, and left it to the shop owners to find a buyer.

Compared to its more modern counterparts, this 1962 beetle was pure class. It was elegant. Its curves were gentle, streamlined. I sat inside. It smelled of that distince old-leather apholstery scent unique to VW Beetles. The interiors, if completed, were to be a collection of little timeless pieces; made and designed with the attenion to detail and care characteristic of the time it was made. It was made to last and made to be beautiful. Before the day was over, it was mine.

After a little over 2 months of restoration, i drove my beetle home. It was almost evening then, and the shiny and new mild pink/white paint glowed in the late afternoon sun. The once almost neglected beauty was now new again, looking smart, proud, and strutting its stuff. I turned the ignition to start the engine and it came alive to that special sound only VWs of its kind make. I looked around me and saw that what had previously been a water-stained winshield and windows were now crystal clear. The ceiling had a fresh new cream material stretched into place. Thanks to the mechanic, i had new original tan-colored rear seats in place. I opened the vent wings, and the windows, turned on the headlights, and drove into the road. It was so beautiful, i was intimidated. I was driving a piece of art, a machine that has proven itself through time, classic engineering, with plenty of history behind it, and many stories to tell. It was pure bliss.

I lived quite far from school, compared to most people that went to the university. On a good day, (light traffic) it would take me 45 minutes to get to school, and on a normal-heavy day, 1 1/12-2 hours to arrive. But it didn't matter. I enjoyed driving, and i enjoyed driving my beetle. Every part of it was fun; from the ritual of winding down the window and opening the vent wings, before you drive off and after you arrive at the place, to opening up the front hood to load bags and groceries. From shining the bumpers to the little chrome parts inside. Washing it with care not to scratch, or let water in areas where they might drip into the interiors. Even maintiaining it was fun, i thougt the engineering was genious. It proves that the most basic designs are still the most reliable, and is has and still is outliving most new cars of recent years. I got a kick out of figuring out how it worked, what made it different, special. The trunk was up front, the engine at teh back. No need to place water in its radiator because it is air-cooled. The space tire was up front, the brake fluid container behind it. The batteries were underneath the rear seats. There was to be only one side view mirror (i didn't even have any yet, hadn't replaced the old one i took out).

When i drove it, i was happy, i would have the windows open, wind blowning on my face and hair, my cd player playing some of my favorite music. Each time i walked to it when i would leave a place, or walk away from it after i arrived, seeing it would make me smile.

Many of my friends would think i was crazy, "...no aircon? How do you survive?" and things to that effect, but it didn't matter to me, it made every day that much more enjoyable.

The love story of my beetle and i had to come to an abrupt end. I had to leave for Spain and left it with an uncle.

These days, ive been driving what i would like to call "My new beetle". Makes me almost just as happy, but in a new way...

Ants Marching

2006-09-27T21:13:00.000Z

What to do...what to do...

I took a break today from my study routine. I hadn't realized how fast i was spinning till i got gizzy, and stopped. I had started taking steps towards the exam that would give me a license to practice architecture, and had since been storming through so many books (and what feels like just about as many languages). But through it all, i am happy. The long awaited time for me to be on my own and doing things for myself has come, i've arrived at Barcelona.

As i walked through one of subways, i found myself being carried by the current of people gushing through the underground tunnels that connect one train to another, that bring them above or under ground. They were like ants marching, they all had to be somewhere at some point in time, doing something. My mind(the only thing capable of stoping in the middle of all the rush)paused for a minute and i asked myself, "Whats the rush?" It seems everyone is in such a hurry to get somewhere everyday; that place, that activity we identify ourselves with, spend most of our lives at. "What is it about big cities?" many people ask. "I could never live in a place that moves so fast", said many of my friends back in Mallorca. And there, being carried along by the current, i was riding on the answer.

The most beautiful thing about cities is how moves. Everyone always has something to do some place, to contribute to something.

It is fast. Tomorrow is too far away and ten minutes is plenty of time.

It is the stage for new things, trial and error, trial, and more trial until something great is achieved.

Dirty, clean, rich, poor, the most beautiful and the ugliest.

It is a playgound of ideas, and opportunities.

I walked through that subway alongside an asian, african, european, american, a mother, a child, a student, a businessman, catholics, hindus, muslims, a lady with a bike, a man playing an instrument and singing and we all passed.

I look at what i did today and i wonder why i am so bored, and it is so hard for me not to be doing anything, and then i realize the answer to my friends' question of why i would want to live in a city.

I feel alive. I see the blood that rushes through the arteries that are its streets, and side walks, and flow into the very centers that make it move, that makes its heart beat. It beats so loud you can almost not hear your own.

I am a child, in a playground of possibilities. With all that playing, i will lose breath, fall to the ground, cut myself, hope to God not to dont break a bone. But it will make me that much stronger. Meanwhile, i run, i jump, i walk, i stop to catch my breath only to do it all again the next day.

On Assignment

2006-07-25T18:21:00.000Z

I have heard many times that the second most hazardous occupation after being a soldier on the battle field is working at a construction site. (I think i could almost agree, even if the worst thing that happened to me was having something fly into my eye)

Curiously enough, the hazardous nature of the job is not what i associated most to soldiers on the battle field. If youre familiar with the famous photograph of the sailor that emraced and kissed his partner after being away for so long, and finally arriving home, then you have a clear picture of what i mean to say.

Being away "on assignment", means you have to be away from the people you love, beingn away from that familiar environment you call home. After having spent a few months being only one of 5 girls among some 200 men in the jobsite, i saw the photo of this sailor come to life many times. There are those that tell stories of the family that awaits them at home. "I have to go home soon, i've been here too long (this man, one week on the site). I have three kids, and i want my two youngest ones to recognize me still!" They need not say much to express the joy they feel at the very thought of them, their faces change, their thoughts drift. They literally light up. And then they go on, "...at home, i have a little girl that does so well at school, she's great, she just won a photo contest recently, you know? And she's never even been into photography!" Another asks to be allowed back for a few days to be present at his first grandchild's baptism, "I have to goback, this is the first grandchild, is is essential to be there, this is sacred!"

There are others that send their wives over for a few days, others entire families, even grandchildren. "My wife is coming over in a few days, and my little boy too!" "My wife is going to be here this week!" "My son is coming to work with us, and his wife and kids are goingto keep us company for two weeks! I'm going to see my little kids again!"

Others ofcourse, are not-so-committed, and meet girls "on the road". They take them to get togethers, party with them i suppose, among other things. And there are others that go even further, and bring them from "the road", to "the room"...you know what i mean.

As for me, i long to come home, and be that lonely sailor, at that long awaited moment to be in the arms of the one that he loves. If i may be more realistic, my equivalent would be meeting my mom at the airport with my brother and dinner at a chinese restaurant-not a bad substitute!!!

Lessons Learned

2006-07-25T17:52:00.000Z

Not-so-fresh out of college, i had it clear what i wanted to do: join a firm where i would start from the bottom, learn the nitty gritty of architecture. Simple, practical things from which i could build my experience as an architect. And here i am now, at a jobsite, and 3 months at that.

I consider myself lucky to have the chance to work and be exposed to so many things; from drawing plans, to thinking of the structure that would carry it (i think now it is obvious that i work with engineers), to calling suppliers, ordering materials, seeing them being built on site, checking that it is done right, on time, and evrything over and over again.

Now that these 3 months are over, and i am poised to start something new, and as i look back, i learned some very important things i will take with me always.

1. No matter how quickly you have to work, no matter how much pressure youre in, you give the best you've got. If it's still not enough, it is already beyond you.
2. A little piece of home should always be brought with you, be it the food you like to eat, the company you keep, or time for yourself, to do YOUR thing.
3. Never NEVER let your temper get the best of you even if you've had enough.
4. Construction details make me whoooozzzzzyyyyy.
5. The internet is essential.
6. At the end of the day, the most important things, the things that matter to you the most will stick. No need to worry about forgetting too many details of what you've seen and learned.
7. Home is DEFINATELY where YOUR heart is.
8. Losing step, stumbling to the ground isn't too bad after all, after you get up and bush the dust off. Scars build character.

Yup, these aren't architectural stuff, but things thaht will definately stay with me always, no matter where I am, no matter what i do.

Hand In My Pocket by Alanis Morisette

2006-07-25T17:42:00.000Z

I'm broke but I'm happy
I'm poor but I'm kind
I'm short but I'm healthy, yeah
I'm high but I'm grounded
I'm sane but I'm overwhelmed
I'm lost but I'm hopeful baby

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving a high five

I feel drunk but I'm sober
I'm young and I'm underpaid
I'm tired but I'm working, yeah
I care but I'm worthless
I'm here but I'm really gone
I'm wrong and I'm sorry baby

What it all comes down to
Is that everything's gonna be quite alright
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is flicking a cigarette

What it all comes down to
Is that I haven't got it all figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is giving the peace sign

I'm free but I'm focused
I'm green but I'm wise
I'm shy but I'm friendly baby
I'm sad but I'm laughing
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit
I'm sick but I'm pretty baby

And what it all boils down to
Is that no one's really got it figured out just yet
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is playing the piano

What it all comes down to my friends
Is that everything's just fine fine fine
I've got one hand in my pocket
And the other one is hailing a taxicab...

2 More Days

2006-07-25T17:23:00.000Z

2 more days and ill be leaving tenerife, and 2 more days and ill be home! I can't wait. It's like waiting for Christmas!!! And my "gifts" being having my family around me again, sleeping in my bed, seeing my frieds, and MORE friends.

The day after i arrive, one of the people i consider to be my closest friends is coming to spend some TWO WEEKS over at our place. Some days after that, more friends will arrive, friends from as long as i can remember who i am lucky enough to have in the same country as I, and one that is on vacation, who will be the 3rd installment of the group that's coming over. I'ts going to be crazy fun, all of us at our apartment with my family. All of us giong places i have never even been to myself. We're going to see beaches, walk along calle San Miguel (my favorite street in Mallorca), eat ice cream while listening to the musicians that play on its narrow streets, see the paintings of artists who share the same spaces as the musicians. There will be other things too, like shopping. 5 girls all together is dangersous for any pocket. But i hope my "discipline" won't fail me! I'm also looking forward to having them meet the new friends i've made at Mallorca--they will surely show my Manila friends a good time.

I'm really excited. And i can't wait for my Christmas in July!! It's true, God will always look after you. After all these months of work away from everything, i'm going to be with my family, so many friends at the same time, everything I was away from, ten fold.

IM ALIVE!!!

2006-07-02T13:58:00.000Z

Yes, i know, i'ts been a hundred years since i last left an entry on my newly created, and then abandoned blog, but i´m back! Got credit at an internet cafe nearby and now have plenty of internet hours every Sunday.

So what have I been up to the past 6 months? Well, shortly after my last blog entry, i had planned to leave for a long-awaited adventure: find a job, an apartment, and a life on my own in one of my favorite cities, Barcelona. But some two weeks before my flight, i got a job offer from a hotel company in Mallorca and i looked at my options. It's either i go to Barcelona, find something for myself (which im not sure how long it will take, but eventually find), or take a job from a good company where i am guaranteed of many more things than the unknowns of if i had left it for something else i didn't yet have. I weighed the two options, I and i thought, well Barcelona could wait. If i stay in Mallorca a little longer, i would have saved more, and have more time with my family before moving out on my own (i had only been in Spain with my family some 6 months then). And so here i am now, in Tenerife!

How did I get to Tenerife? The hotel chain i work for has a renovation project for one of its hotels here, so i've been sent to work on the drawings on the site. The whole experience has been a bit of a rollercoaster ride. A hotel of some 400 rooms and many of its ammenities had to be renovated in 2 and a half months, with only a colleague and i doing the drawings. (Yup! I thought it was crazy too.) Getting aquiainted to the world of work here, and the environment too, cost me a little bit of time, and there’s also missing the comforts of your family and friends, the access to communicating with them especially if many of them are far away. But over all, I’ts been alright. Back in Mallorca, when I was still working at our base office, I was working on projects in Malaga, Tenerife, one in Mallorca, and another in Fuerteventura (also in the Canaries), and I thought to myself, I’d like to see the Canaries, Tenerife to be exact. And little did I know that I’d be sent over with a one-way ticket. All in all, I’ve been here a total of two and a half months now. The project is due to finish at the end of the month.

As to where I go from here, well, working for this company, I’ll really never know, as everything pretty much comes as a surprise. But the next adventure is already planned and ahead of me: taking the board exams in January! Wish me luck!

Hungry for Chinese?

2006-01-27T07:55:00.000Z

Take a close look at these menus:

Where Are You Going? -Dave Matthews Band

2006-01-26T20:38:00.000Z

Where are you going
with your long face pulling down?
Don't hide away like an ocean
But you can?t see, but you can smell
And the sound waves crash down

I am no superman
I have no reasons (answers) for you
I am no hero, oh that's for sure
But I do know one thing for sure
Is where you are is where I belong

I do know, where you go, is where I want to be
Where are you going, where do you go?
Are you looking for answers
to questions under the stars?
If along the way you are growing weary,
You can rest with me until a brighter day
It's okay (You're okay)

I am no superman
I have no answers for you
I am no hero, oh that's for sure
But I do know one thing for sure
Is where you are, is where I belong
I do know, where you go
Is where I want to be

Where are you going, where do you go?

Where do you go, where are you going?
Where do you go?

I am no Superman, I have no answers for you
I am no hero, oh that's for sure
But I do know one thing, is where you are,
is where I belong
I do know where you go, is where I want to be.
Where are you going, where do you go?

Tell me where are you going, where do you go?
Where?
Let's go.

spagalog

2006-01-25T21:56:00.000Z

It is common knowledge that many words in the Filipino language has its roots in Castillan Spanish.

We know that words like plato, kutsara, mesa, kama, sabon, sibuyas, tenedor, coche, kutsilyo, kusina, sapatos, pantalon, patatas and many more.

What i didn't was that the words agogo (yes, agogo-dancer), yaya (over here, it is the name you call the person who took care of you, usually your grandmother), and saklolo (help!!!) are Spanish words too! Would you have thought so?

Enclosed Terraces

2006-01-23T12:50:00.000Z

Here's something i think is pretty interesting about the architecture here (and probably in the rest of Spain and Europe): how walking through the narrow streets and esquinitas is like walking through a rainforest.

If in a rainforest, you have trees that grow so tall because one needs to be taller than the other to get as much light as possible, over here, you have buildings projecting as far out over the street as possible to increase space and get light and air in. In the old part of town, where the esquinitas are very narrow, you almost feel like these projections form a canopy as you walk underneath them.
One such projection is the enclosed terrace, which are terraces that are, well...enclosed!

I always think it's interesting to work with small spaces and how it streches the imagination. You have many boundaries that you can't work beyond and so you have to discover ways to work with and around it and be creative. In having an enclosed terrace, flat owners could have extensions of interior spaces and have a terrace all at the same time. They could stand at what used to be an open-air area and still be in their living room. In the same way, you could also be in your living room and watch the world go by beneath your feet-literally. It is that transition point between being indoors and outdoors, allowing you to enjoy two worlds all at the same time. In a place where you have narrow rectangles of space as your home, every square foot you can find to let air, light, and the world outside in matters, and enclosed terraces can make a big difference.

Just like the trees in a rainforest, this architectural element makes that extra effort to reach a little further beyond what is already there. No need for any toucans, monkeys, sloths, or other exotic animals in this rainforest, beacuse the enclosed terraces alone make it bustle with life.

I've Arrived!

2006-01-21T16:57:00.000Z

I'ts been almost a year since i arrived at Mallorca-but i haven't felt like i had 'till last night.

The feast of San Sebastian is perhaps the biggest event in Palma de Mallorca (San Sebastian is the patron saint of Palma) . It's even bigger than Christmas and new year's eve. The celebration lasts for weeks; there are concerts, bike-riding events, vintage car motorcades, and more. The celebration ends with a 25-minute fireworks exhibition at the bay on the final eveing of the celebration.

As we joined the rest of the Palma population in what felt like an exodus to the bay-side area on that final evening, i found myself caught up in all the rush. There was a certain energy in the air, as if anticipating something really big. The streets were deserted, practically no one was home, there were available parking slots along the streets. And then finally, we arrived, and saw people slowly filling in the bay-side area waiting for the event to start.

As i settled into my seat in one of the benches that line the bay, i looked around and was reminded of why this place is so beautiful. I saw the Cathedral lighted up in full glory, the fountains were on, and something about walking through the old part of the city (where the architecture is beautiful) started to feel familiar to me. It was that same feeling you might feel while driving home, listening to your favorite song on the radio, and your mind is clear and free.

At that moment, i smiled to myslef. I felt a wonderful sense of relief, and excitement as to what this new place may bring me. I smiled and exhaled, as i thought, i have finally arrived, after seven months of living here, and maybe even call it home.