Friday, April 28, 2006
in between
Here I go. It's another one of those moments where that little demon of doubt that lurks inside of me decides to try convince me that I was crazy to move here, that I am all alone, and there is nothing for me in this place. It is useless and wasteful to think this way, I know. It's just that every now and then, I feel like I'm walking through a dark tunnel, knowing there is a light at the end of it, but not knowing when it will come. I can cry, complain, or slump in a corner and refuse to go on, but I know that the only way out is to get up and start walking again. This too shall pass.
Being in between can be daunting. I've left behind an old home, and can't consider this place my new one, yet. This is a new experience for me, being un-anchored, having no center. I could move to another new place tomorrow without looking back because I don't feel anything for this place. And yet, to return to my old life would be like forcing myself into old skin that doesn't fit me anymore.
It scares me that my old life sometimes feels like a distant dream. Many of the problems and issues that used to consume me to no end are suddenly non-existent here. Is it really that easy for them not to matter after all the energy I invested in them? My friends are not with me, and though I miss them terribly, life goes on, and I am very much alive and ok without them. Is it that easy not to need people? (Well, of course I need them, but knowing they're not here makes me learn not to need them just so I won't be miserable.) Do they feel the same way about me? Have they learned not to need me, too?
In one sense it is liberating to be in between identities, having shed the old one and not quite having found a new one yet. One good thing that it's all made me realize is that much of what we think our identity is actually all just ego. People can spend enormous amounts of time and effort in maintaining a certain image or identity, defining themselves through their clothes, the music they listen to, the places they go, and the people they surround themselves with. Well, all of that image upkeep equates to zero when you move to a new place. It can be terifying in the beginning, but liberating when you realize that you're really much, much bigger than all of that, anyway. But the hard (and fun) part is having to discover who you are again.
Ah, well. Time to start walking again.the dreamer's disease
On reason why I didn't want to leave the Philippines was because I have a hidden patriotic side. Like all foolishly idealistic twenty-somethings, I have got a severe case of the dreamer's disease ("New Radicals", haha!). I want to make positive changes, I want to save the country (the world, if possible), and I want my life to be meaningful, and not just comfortable. I want to leave the world a better place! (I know my plans sound ridiculously general. There is more detail to it than that, but that is not what this entry is all about.)
I know, I am naive. I can already hear people older than me laughing after reading this, and saying, "Alam mo hija, ganyan din ang gusto kong gawin nung ako'y nasa edad mo. Pero hanggang ngayon, wala paring nagbabago". Oh, I know these are not new dreams. They're dreams that millions of other sappy, young idealists have had before, before they got old, and jaded, and stopped believing. Maybe the same fate is in store for me. Maybe I will end up a cynical old fart, wagging my tongue at student activists, and mocking people like me. But they're dreams worth pursuing anyway. It's better than saying I never tried to devote my life to a higher purpose. But I digress.
I wanted to stay, but my parents practically begged me to at least give this move a try. Just a try. And because I was so heartbroken about having to leave, I scrounged around for reasons to justify and make sense of my move (it was a bit like brain-washing myself).
1) I cannot save the world if I do not learn how to take care of myself first (i.e. cook, clean, wash, parallel park, etc.) Living in a society that encourages self-sufficience will teach me life skills I need to *ahem* save the world.
2) I cannot save the world if I do not have direction. Beginning a new life is my chance to focus and decide on what I really want to do. I need to become a better person first.
3) Being away from the Philippines will test the strength of my dreams and resolutions. Time will tell if it is a real desire, or just a phase.
4) Living in another country is just another way of experiencing a facet of being Filipino. From the outside looking in, I will get a better grasp of what the meaning of being a Filipino is, who we are, what we are.
5) I've always wanted to be a global citizen, someone who is deeply rooted in her own culture, yet open and adaptable to other cultures. One thing I have always enjoyed is the mutual sharing of cultures between people of different nations, and that is something I can hopefully experience here.
7) Because travel is the best teacher you can ever have. Australia is a good country and there are many important things I can learn from her.
Eventually the "brain-washing" did work, and the reasons did become real to me. In the end, I just wanted to make sure that I didn't feel forced to move here, that it was my own decision.
If years from now I do make the world a better place, I will read this and I will know that I was right. Or I just might be a cynical old fart laughing at what I once wrote when I was young and foolish.an exercise for everyone
I thought this was a good idea. You can share your answers on my comment box if you like :-)
Mio, Nino, Dada, and Me at the park!
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Thursday, April 20, 2006
the story of our vacation! (and of Ninos new Canon 20D)
Byron Bay Bluesfest!
(Me and Nin walking towards the event)
Bluesfest was all about my birthday, the constant thumping of live music in the background, black mud in between my toes and on my white dress, delicious food from the dozens of food stalls, the smell of a certain illegal substance being lit left and right, and lots of mad fun!!!
Since it was my birthday, I wore white. I don't know why I do that every year. I also wore the tiara my friend made for me. I'm a like a little girl who likes to play dress-up on her birthday
Cabarita Beach
(Me and Nin catching some rays)
To avoid the noise of touristy Byron Bay, we stayed 40 minutes away at a more secluded place, Cabarita beach! It was a much nicer beach than Byron, and I had the chance for one last swim before winter arrives.
Catching the sunrise at Cabarita before heading home!
Sunset over fish and chips at one of the places where we stopped.the Femi Kuti experience
After a month of being enclosed in the monotonous white walls of my house in my bland, manicured suburb, I came to the 17th Annual East Coast International Blues and Roots Music Festival in Byron Bay craving a warm, earthy, world flavor. So when the roadies on the main stage began setting up what looked like a percussion ensemble, Nino and I decided to linger around that area for what looked like a promising act.
As soon as the instruments had been fine-tuned and proclaimed performance ready, the band's keyboardist, drummer, guitarist, bassist, and percussion session took their places on stage; followed by a brass section of about eight men, sashaying from the wings with a smile and a flourish. Next came three female, African dancers shaking some serious booty, dressed in outfits that would look skimpy on anyone else, but looked swinging on them. The band struck their first chord, the percs people started banging, and suddenly there was a bit of electricity crackling through the air. Nino and I looked up at the overhead projector beside the stage to catch the name of this artist that was unknown to us: Femi Kuti and the Positive Force.
And it is at this point that I try to help you imagine the crucial moment. Picture this: in walks a tall, slender African man, eyes cast downward but not unconfident. Dressed in loose pants, a relaxed button down shirt, and sandals, he makes his way to front and center, where his keyboards await him. Without casting a single glance towards the audience, he strikes the keys with his hands, and begins to tremble like a man possessed. Shaking like a chilli frying in sputtering grease, the air around him begins to sizzle. The band plays faster, louder, turning up the Afro beat to the max. He takes the mic, my hair stands on end; and at last, we hear Femi Kuti's voice.
He begins to sing of Africa, of his homeland Nigeria, of pride, of evil, and of injustice, sometimes with a voice as smooth and soothing as syrup, and sometimes with a growl that is a mix of anger and authority. His eyes blaze, and that moment, he ceases to make the music and becomes the music. Watching him, I am in awe and almost in tears as the Afro beat takes me by the heels and fingertips, clutching at my hips, making it impossible to stay still. All throughout his hour-long performance, Femi Kuti is a crackling ball of energy.
By the time the last song rolled around, Nino and I knew that we had gotten back the 120 dollars we had paid to get in. Overwhelmed, we staggered out of the tent cursing in Tagalog for lack of a better reaction.
I have tried to infuse as much love as possible into this entry, because I'd like to thank this man who struck the surface of my consciousness like a lightning bolt, splitting my mind wide open. For many, it is a once in a life-time experience to encounter a powerful artist, one with a message that is deeply rooted in culture yet universal. The meeting left me changed in ways that I will continue to ponder in many of my own artistic journeys to come. I am inspired to go higher.
At the 17th East Coast Bluefest, I came, I saw, and was conquered by Femi Kuti and his positive force.Nini!
In other news, Nino arrived 2 days before my birthday. To me, his arrival is not only of someone I love, but of a semblance of home. Dada recognized him instantly, but stared at him for 5 minutes as if he was a relic of some distant past that she wasn't sure was real or not. It feels both strange and perfectly normal to have him here. Somehow it seems like the house was just waiting for him to arrive!
I jokingly say that we now have a "real" man in the house. Apologies to my dad and brother but manual labor is not one of their talents. The only callouses they have ever gotten on their hands are from guitar strings and not from lifting heavy boxes, and assembling furniture from Ikea (well not until recently at least). :-p Now we have a new "buhat-boy"!
Having here is a soothing balm for the mind and for the spirit, and makes me feel stronger and more self-assured. I was glad to have someone very special to turn 23 with last Monday. :-) :-) :-) Happy birthday to me!
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Monday, April 10, 2006
it's done
POFW episode 2, "House Becomes Home", can be viewed here here.:-)aiyeeee. meaningless entry.
I miss talking in Tagalog, and I miss that posture that comes with speaking the language, the shoulder-hunch, and all the hand movements and facial expressions that go with it. I miss being able to talk like a bading parlorista, and use words like "chaka", and "gurlash", and "badaf", and "cheverly" and having everyone understand me. I miss saying "ang gandaaauuuuhhhh" like Rickey Reyes. I miss saying "ek ek", and "eklat", and "brokebakan" (a reference to BB Mountain :-p), and I miss people calling me "dai", and "tsong", and "pangga". I miss kabaduyan and kajologan.
I miss driving down Katipunan and muttering curse words (Tagalog curse words) under my breath at the taxi drivers who try to kill you, and the tricycles who magically apparate out of nowhere (I am proud to have conquered all that). I miss laughing at funny names of sari-sari stores and funny signs on jeepneys.
I miss really, really good cheap Chinese food in Binondo (I miss things being cheap, period). There is NO good Asian food here. None. Nada. It all tastes like paper. Sa Pilipinas, pwede kang pumunta sa kanto, magbayad ng 50 pesos, at masarap-sarap na ang pagkain na makukuha mo.
I miss Boracay, even though I complain that it's been overrun by polluting capitalists and e-colli. Even though I know it's filled with stupid teenagers overdosing on E or V or A or whatever letter of the alphabet it is they're using to name illegal substances.
I even miss those hideous "Roughrider" billboards sprouting up all over (I don't miss the Bench ones though. It was just overkill at one point).
Di naman pangit dito. Nakakabaliw lang minsan kapag wala kang makausap at maka-inom. Right now, I want to sit on my front steps with an ice cold Cerveza Negra and talk about life until 4 in the morning. I want to lie on the beach and stargaze. I want to go to "Wai-Ying" or "Mr. Kebab". I'm dying for "Omakase".
But I'm going on vaycay with some friends next week, I'm celebrating my year 23, and a very special guest is coming here to see me so I am EXCITED! Wheee!!!ask and you shall receive
When you've spent hours on Google, and you still can't seem to find the answers you want, it's time to get more direct. If anyone can answer these questions, I will be very thankful:
1) Poi. Fire spinning. Fire dancing. I'm itching to continue it. I've found a group in Glebe that's into it. Are there any other people who do this here? Where? Every when? (Here's a video of Ala and Nino's "first burn"!)
2) I've read about a "Sydney Samba School", but have found few references on it, and only some very ancient contact details. I read a forum post that they used to hold open classes in Bondi every Sunday, but this was posted years ago. Does anyone know anything about this? I do miss the samba Tuesdays back at home, even if I got all sorts of strange bruises on my hands and kneews from the instruments. (I am looking more for the music-making aspect of it, not the dancing because I do NOT dance.)
3) If you lived in Syndey and most probably had to rely totally on public transport, where would you take a very special visitor? ;-) Suggestions please! Sydney's best day-trips and night life!
4) Where can I find all the young, musician people who like to get together and create things? I miss music, man!
Ok, I want to sleep. :-p
Kitakits, tsong.but before that... a completely unrelated picture!
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