I have never had a friend die on me before. I was looking at his photos earlier and realized that I will truly honestly miss Alvin. 

I had a cousin who died a few years ago. Among my 52 thousand first, second, and third cousins, she was by far the kindest. When I was very young, she babysat me for the longest time. And whenever my father would lash at me because I refused to eat (again), she would use her own body to ward off the blows.  Then she left.  I cried like it was the end of the world. I was sitting on our doorstep still wearing my jammies and fluffy slippers.  I cried while she was trying not to.  I cried while she was walking farther away. I was still crying long after she was outside the front gates beyond my line of sight.  I think I was 5 or 6 years old then.  But I remember that day.

Then I grew up. Had new babysitters. Met friends. Had crushes. Fell in love. Fell out of love. Graduated. Got a job. I saw her only once in a few years.  But somewhere in the back of my consciousness I knew I still loved her.

It was cancer. They said she had an awful time.

The worst thing was the last time I saw her. By that time the doctor said she had a few months. She actually came up to Manila just to see us.  It was the saddest most awkward time.  All of us knew what was coming but we all pretended everything was alright. We ate, had fun and joked. All that time there was someone screaming in my head, "You fucking bastards! She is dying! Do something about it! Don't let her leave me again!"  It must be what a funeral would be like if the deceased were sitting among the living. Drinking coffee and eating suman, "So yeah, I'm dying in a few weeks and I am in terrible pain for most parts of the day, but where did you get that lovely blouse?"

She told me to be good. To take care of mama. To take care of my brother. To eat my greens. To make her proud.  And I'm still trying, to this day.

She died back in the province. She left a husband and two kids. One of which is my godchild. I have a godchild for every cousin and relative so I probably have 3 dozen godchildren.

I don't know yet how exactly my friend, Alvin, died.  But they say that it was very sudden.  I was on a bus last Friday on my way home after a few drinks after work when I got a long-distance call on my cellphone.  It was one of our other friends asking me to stay calm and not to be shocked because Alvin has died.  How the fuck do you stay calm after news like that?

It was his birthday last February 29. He was 28 (7 if we really want to be strict about it).  He got married only a month ago.  To his childhood sweetheart. 

The last time I saw him was when we had lunch together in Makati because I was leaving for Sydney.  I remembered his birthday but I didn't send him a message.  I really should've.

I have been a very, very bad blogger. One month of withholding my thoughts and experiences? Sacrilegious.

The whole drama about lunch is over now. I've found my peace with that, along with the fact that I get to go out with colleagues and other friends sometimes. So being alone for lunch a few days out of 5 isn't so bad anymore.

And the most interesting things I see when I go wandering around at lunch. Just last week, there was this travel promotion going on at the Martin Place fountain. I got a really big kick out of watching great tango and hot, half-naked Brazilian guys doing the capoeira. The next day, at the same place there was a debate/forum going on conducted by young lawyers regarding same-sex marriage and whether it was a human rights issue. Was nowhere near as hot as the Brazilian guys (come on they had 6-pack abs and they knew how to use 'em) but it was interesting nevertheless.

And I discovered body-boarding a few weekends ago. Fucking awesome. Really. At first I was just doing it a few meters from the shore alongside the other ten-year olds and their parents but after an hour of so, I kinda got the timing and promoted myself and joined the eleven-year-olds on the farther, bigger waves. Got to ride one all the way to the sand. Wooohooo.

I flunked my first attempt at the NSW driving test. I was over-speeding (twice), failed to give way, and I hit some rubbish (I think it was an old dining chair set out there for council clean-up) on the kerb while kerb-side parking. Flunking the test would've been ok if not for the fact that I've been driving for YEARS and should've known better. AND I have been driving all that time, in MANILA. The most treacherous, predatory driving conditions on the planet.

So yeah, failing the driving test was really hard on me, just ask Adrian and Marian. Thank you, again, for taking the brunt of my after-exam wrath while Earl was still at work.

Been sort of addicted to Facebook. This too shall pass though. Like all things.

Been wanting to move to Balmain.

Been wanting to bodyboard again but Sydney summer this year is a big joke.

Been wanting to go out for drinks after work but seems logistically improbable.

Been wanting a new pair of kick-ass, I'm-a-gonna-walk-all-over-you boots. Maybe next month.

Been a lot things. Mostly just bored again.

Cheers,
Ets :)

I just came back from YET another incredibly lonely lunch. I find all my teammates are gone, probably had lunch together. Gaddemit. I knew I should've held out a bit longer.

I usually feel hunger around 12 and by 12:15 I better eat or I get really cranky. These guys eat around 12:30 or later. By that time I'd probably be half dead in my seat from starvation. Oh well.

I really should get used to having lunch alone anyway. It's been a little bit over a month now and I still feel like crying at lunch. It's soooo lonely. Waaaah. I miss my friends. I miss Fazolis. I miss long, happy meal times. I miss laughing, I mean REALLY laughing. You know where you feel like you're breaking apart at the sides. I miss having coffee with people who can talk about other things besides the weather. No offense meant to anyone, but I have always thrived on conversations. Make me think. Disagree with me. Argue with me. Challenge me. Tell me something new. Chatting just leaves me feeling tired. But it really is such a necessary evil when in new environments.

Yesterday I had fish and salad (read: fish and leaves) I was trying to be healthy. I ended up hungry again by 2pm. Today I had deep fried calamari. I ended up feeling like I needed to have beer with it. Go figure.

After lunch I dropped by a designer shirt store to buy a friend a shirt that was supposedly on sale. But they didn't have the color she wanted. So I just came back here to the office. And felt even lonelier than I was before I left.

I will definitely try hassling these guys to eat with me next week. Definitely probable. Probably not. Never mind. I'll probably just get take-away and start eating at my desk.

Loser.

Labels: Work

Three weeks.  That's how long I've been working.  They say be careful what you wish for, you just might get it.  :)

Nah.  It's been a blast.  I love the guys at work, they seem to be a really cool bunch of people.  We had a great Christmas lunch last Thursday.  I won't start blogging about co-workers though, in fears of being dooced.  Not that I have anything to bitch about.  Yet.  But knowing me, I'll probably find something.

Anyway.  So it's in the city. I take the train in and the bus out.  Takes a total of 2 fucking hours of my life everyday.  I've forgotten how commuting can be so mind numbing.  I was thinking of bringing my brand-spanking new (AHEM!!!) Nikon and take photos of the commuters on the train but I doubt that a strange woman taking candid random photos would be a welcome thing to tired, cramped early morning commuters.  I'll content myself with observing them behind my glasses. 

There was this one lady on the bus yesterday on my way home.  She was shouting something at the bus driver, like "Are you sure this is the 518? Come on open the door again, I wanna go out and see for myself."  Like the driver wouldn't know what route he was driving, right?  But he opens the door anyway and lets the woman have a look a the sign.  And of course it was the 518.  So the lady pays and takes a seat 2 rows in front of me. 

A few stops later, must be on Druitt Street, a guy comes in and sits across from Doubting Tess (that's what I was calling her in my mind).  Pretty normal looking guy. Twenty-ish. Had a plastic bag of godknowswhat. And an ancient looking pocket book. So he proceeds to read his novel.

Doubting Tess turns to him, pokes his shoulder and proceeds to badger Unassuming Tom (that would be the guy) about what sort of book he was reading. And they seem to have a conversation about it.  They appear to be agreeing on something because Unassuming Tom keeps bobbing his head up and down.  But what I really think he was thinking was, "Geez, did I sit on the wrong row. How the hell do I get out of this one?"

Anyway, he got off at Rozelle which was not that far from where he got on. So he never got to read a line of his book. Poor Unassuming Tom.  So Doubting Tess was left, again with no one to talk to.  So she just flips her dry, messy hair back and forth. Back and forth. Again and again over the back of the chair.  I was thinking this was some sort of ancient Aussie bus ritual and was considering doing it myself lest I offend the transport gods of old. But luckily reason prevailed and I remained still.

Then while Doubting Tess was flipping her hair, her eyes met mine.  I nearly jumped out the window.  It was similar to the feeling you get when you think you've accidentally deleted a whole weeks worth of project work.  I started praying that she wouldn't come over and start talking to me.  And thankfully, 3 Asians came on the bus and one of the girls sat beside me.

But after sitting for like 2 seconds, she pops straight up again and moves to the seat across me and slams her huge Gucci bag quite loudly on the empty space beside me.  I thought this was very rude (not to mention embarrassingly startling for me) so I got ready to smash her face in but then laziness overcame me and again I remained still.  Turns out she was just saving that seat for their other girl friend.  Whew. Newsflash: "Laziness saved Asian socialite from certain death. Or at least serious body harm."

Nothing much happened after that so I just sang quietly in my head.  Half an hour later, the bus was nearly empty and it was my turn to get off.  'Night driver.  My life is so fucking exciting.

Labels: Living In Sydney

Labels: Angela

This is a test.

Hello World.

Now we live in Sydney as you can see in the map above. This map should also serve to educate those in Australia who think that The Philippines is in Europe. The Philippines is not in Europe or anywhere near the Panama Canal. It is a group of 7,107 islands above Australia on the other half of the equator. And no, I will not explain what an “equator” is. Google it.

The desert in Australia is in the middle of the continent. Here’s a climate map of Australia:

As you can see in the above map, Australia has quite a large portion of desert area as emphasized by the big red circle. Again, we live in SYDNEY as shown in the smaller red circle. Big circle – desert. Small circle – NOT desert.

Sydney actually has what they call a “Humid Subtropical” climate. Which means NO DESERT. If you can imagine how far Manila is from Davao, triple that and you will have an idea how far we are from the desert here in Sydney.

2. In our nearly two years here in Sydney I have only seen about a dozen kangaroos and maybe 5 koalas. And all of them are in the zoo. If I look out our window at home, I will NOT find a kangaroo there chewing on my tomato seedlings. Why is this, you might ask? BECAUSE WE DO NOT LIVE IN THE OUTBACK.

We actually live in a suburb a few minutes away from the central business district which if you compare that to Makati, we would be living in Ortigas.

3. And it was just one case of dingo eating the baby and that was never really confirmed. And guess what, this dingo-eating-baby incident happened in 1980 while they were camping near Ayer’s Rock which is located in the DESERT. SYDNEY NOT IN DESERT!

Refer to this article for more information on the Azaria Chamberlain Disappearance (Azaria being the baby taken by the dingo).

4. And while you’re reading that article in Wikipedia, might as well look up the population of Sydney. It’s 4 million. By my standards, that would be enough people to keep me happy. Here’s a chart comparing Metro Manila and Sydney. You figure it out.

Metro Manila: AREA: 166 sq. km. POPULATION: 11,289,368

Metro Sydney: AREA: 12,144 sq. km. POPULATION: 4,119,190

5. Now here’s the issue I have tried not to touch, not even with a 10-foot stick for the past few months: discrimination. I will not talk about Malu Fernandez, Teri Hatcher, or Jon Stewart because frankly, there’s probably nothing left for me to say after what has been said by the 11 million people in Metro Manila.

I will instead assure everyone that in the nearly 2 years that we’ve been here, we have not yet experienced any form of discrimination; not me, not my family, not our friends. Metro Sydney is a pretty multi-cultural place according to Wikipedia, "Sydney has the seventh largest percentage of a foreign born population in the world, ahead of cities such as the highly multicultural London and Paris."

It is not uncommon for people of different cultures to clash or be wary of one another, but to actually hold out certain rights and privileges based on someone’s cultural background has been outlawed long ago. Sometime during the era when the computer was invented, maybe.

Personally, there are certain cultures here with which I have stereotypes. I know for a fact that people coming from “a certain country” would push and elbow other passengers when getting on the bus. This would include cutting in front of old people and mothers with prams. And the ridiculous fact that there are only two of you getting on the bus does not deter this behaviour from them.

I have been witnessed by some to have pushed back and scream bloody murder into the faces of such people.

I, for a fact, do not hold this opinion by my lonesome. The lady I chatted with on the bus last week has the exact same opinion of “them” as I do. And I was fairly sure she was a normal, sensible being. Until she started talking about ukuleles. I might blog about that incident some other time.

So to answer the question, “Is there blatant discrimination in Sydney?” my answer is, “No, there is no such discrimination in Sydney.” Aside from the discrimination coming from me, of course. And this I will keep to myself for fears of being Malu Fernandez-ed.

So in conclusion,
· we do not live in the desert,
· there are no kangaroos or koalas in our backyard,
· the dingo incident may or may not have happened,
· we do not live alone in our suburb,
· and the only resident of Sydney guilty of discriminating against others is me.

Labels: Living In Sydney, Pinas

Yes I am still here. Sometime late August, around my birthday, our PC stopped working. Just wouldn’t POST. After several troubleshooting attempts by my husband and after using my time-tested method of smacking the tower and kicking it around, we decided to take it to a shop where they have the extra video cards and memories and CPUs to troubleshoot. Turned out the memory bus was busted. So the technician just transferred the two memory modules to the other working memory slots. Viola! It’s aliiive!

Anyway, during that period of technological breakdown, I discovered my green thumb. I planted some herbs in recycled pots and I am happy to report that they are now thriving little seedlings of basil, tomato (roma and cherry), and chilli.

-oOo-

Angela has been going to preschool for more than a month now. And has been sick with cold and cough ever since. It’s the colds season here (winter turning into spring) and the kids in school just sneeze and cough at each others faces, and the fact that Angela doesn’t eat like a normal human child doesn’t help. We have taken her to the “nice doctor” and he said that she’d be right as rain with water and lots of rest and sent her off with some lollies and a new red pen.

Right now, she has the laptop on www.nickjr.com ‘s radio and playing the Dora the Explorer station on full volume right beside me making it impossible for me to actually do some productive studying on the PC.

Over the period of one month, Angela has become amazingly good with her conversational skills. Although there are days
when all her sentences still start with “because”, it is quite delightful to hear her start some sentences with “actually”. Like, “Actually, mom, because the flowers are growing.” To which my default response is, “That’s wonderful, anak.”

We have started teaching her to count in Tagalog. “Isaw, Dahlawaah, Tatlow, Apat, Lee-mah!” “You’re so tabachoy.” I know, I know, my daughter has now turned into a konyong kolehiyala. But I’m working on it, and I’m hoping that soon she’ll become a bit more jologs. Welkam to da jaangel!

-oOo-

For my birthday, we decided to stay at home so that Angela can have all the rest she can get. So we just opted to sprinkle fertilizer all over the lawn. Not a bad way to spend a birthday I guess.

-oOo-

I have recently started sending out my resume. Yes, you read it right. I have started looking for work. Finally deciding that my ass has grown fat enough, I updated my resume and sent it out to job openings and promising companies. Here’s hoping for a reply soon. So if there’s someone out there looking for a Systems Analyst/Programmer specializing in VB/C#.Net...

Labels: Angela, Geek, Living In Sydney, Work

Living in a first world country really is something else. Take the transport system for example...

Back when I was in high school, I started commuting all by myself. During those days, there were no trains (MRT), no FX taxis (a cheap mass produced AUV that takes 10 passengers and charges a significantly higher fare because it is supposedly air-conditioned), and no shuttle services. I got around the hard way - by waiting for a jeepney. I would take a jeep from Marcos Highway and get off Katipunan, take the Katipunan jeepney to the front of the school. Simple, right? Not quite. Waiting for a jeepney on a normal school day during rush hour is like waiting for love to happen – it takes a long time, sometimes painful and requires an incredible amount of luck. There was even a period of time where I would walk to school along Marcos Highway (yes it’s a highway), cross the Marcos Bridge, along Katipunan Avenue and finally land in school, all caked in dust and smoke, bleeding feet inside school shoes, and sweating like a pig. That was during the major road works near our area and so all traffic within a 20 kilometre radius was diverted into our highway. O happy days.

Getting home would be the reverse. I have hitch-hiked a couple of times just to get home. There were times when I would settle with sitting on my Coleman water jug on the floor of the jeepney because it was getting dark and I really desperately wanted to get home already. Blessed were the guys because they could hang on to the back of the jeepney (we call this “sabit”). Sometimes there are as much as 10 guys hanging on to whatever bars were sticking out at the back of the jeep; holding on for dear life. Then the driver would literally snake its way along the length of Aurora Boulevard and Marcos Highway at neck-breaking speed like the devil himself was on its heels.

Then came along the FX taxi. I was in college and commuting became infinitely better. It was maybe 4 times more expensive but it was air-conditioned and more comfortable. This is of course if you’re lucky. Some FX’s have a fan that churns out hot carbon-monoxide from the engine. In this case, half the passengers pass out and the other half stay awake by berating the driver. FX’s can accommodate 4 passengers in the middle section but if there are, er, horizontally-gifted people on the ride, one of the seat-mates will have to sacrifice half his butt and thus paralysing half of his body.

Then the MRT was completed. Oh joy is me! This was around the time I was working already. I can get to Makati from anywhere along EDSA (one of the busiest, heaviest traffic roads in the Philippines, quite possibly the galaxy) in record time! That is if you can squeeze in during rush hour. Now this is a true story: There was one time I was on my way to Ortigas from the Ayala Station in Makati on a rush hour. I barely got on a train compartment and only because the throng of people around me pushed me into the train. Once inside, I only had enough room to move my nose and my neck. Couldn’t even scratch my chin. It was not a problem of holding on because it was that packed that everybody was pushing on everyone else just enough so that no one falls over. On the bright-side, it brings out cooperation among fellow commuters, doesn’t it? Now I was on one side of the train and I was starting to worry that I couldn’t get to the other side because that would be the door which opens to the platform I was getting off to. But again, the stars were smiling down on me that day because quite a lot of my co-passengers were getting off at the same station as I was. So it was merely a matter of letting the flow of sweaty human bodies carry me out of the train into the blissful open space of stationary ground.

Now this long blog entry has a point. And I shall get to that shortly. Living in Sydney for a little more than a year now, Earl and I have observed that people who have lived here all their lives, in this first-world country, demand more of their government, of their products, and of their people. If something is a bit off or unsatisfactory, they do not hesitate to voice it out and the glorious thing about it is, their complaints are heard and are acted upon. I understand that this constant complaining and over-reacting is necessary to continually improve their standard of life. This is a good thing, so good on you, Aussies!

BUT! After recounting my painful ordeal of over a decade of pain, torture, and wretchedness, I, being the self-righteous, proud, foolish Pinoy that I am, scoff at their misery over this: http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22251401-2862,00.html.

No. THAT is not a cattle truck. I hereby declare that until one has riden on the MRT or the LRT, one cannot claim to be any kind of bovine specie.

Compared to what I’ve been used to, I think their transport system here is bliss. Here in Sydney, track-work and bus improvements go on all the time and although it can be a bit of a hassle during these times, I believe that it will get better. Sana lang ganon din sa Pilipinas.

Labels: Living In Sydney, Pinas, The 90's

Woohooo! You just gotta love the guy:

The Pinoy - Tarantino rides pedicab to escape traffic to Philippine presidential palace

Labels: Movies, Pinas