Wednesday, December 26, 2007
my second Sydney Christmas
Growing up, I always spent Christmas eve in the Philippines with about 30 other people, aunties, uncles, cousins, and family friends. I celebrated my second Christmas in Sydney this year and discovered the joy of a quieter Christmas spent only with the people who matter most.
It occurred to me on my first Sydney Christmas that I had never actually spent Christmas eve conversing with members of my immediate family till we moved to Australia. Back home, there were always cousins to entertain, titos and titas to kiss, and so much hustle and bustle. When I moved here, I assumed Christmas would be quiet and lonely. But as I have discovered, it makes for great quality time with the family.
I don't think we've ever really been this together on a Christmas eve.But being Pinoy, we still crave for that big-family experience on Christmas day. And being Pinoy, we know how to create families wherever we go. What I've noticed about Pinoys is that we are prone to what I call "spontaneous bonding". So easily do we inter-weave into each other's hearts.
Christmas day was spent with all the family friends and friend families close to our hearts. We may be far from home, but home is anywhere where you can generate that warm, fuzzy feeling.
I've been in charge of thinking up the games the past two Christmases. Last year we had "Pasko Dream Academy" where each family had to put on a song-and-dance number with my dad as "Headmaster" and judge. This year, we did a "living belen/ nativity scene". Each child was assigned a role 15 minutes prior to "show-time", and parents had to come up with costumes on the spot, using whatever make-shift materials we had around the house. When the scene had been set, we all gathered to sing "The First Noel".It was precious. And everyone had such a blast coming up with costumes in 15 minutes.
Oh and also, there was about a ton of food. We'll be eating the leftovers all week. My dad took photos.just me and the sea
And today was the most impossibly perfect day at the beach! I was a bit hesitant to troop down to the coast since it was a spur-of-the-moment thing and no one wanted to go with me. But I woke up to the sunniest day we've had in this crazy-weather month and decided I would refuse to spend the day indoors. It was Boxing Day, a public holiday, and I wasn't about to spend it sitting home alone on my arse. I wanted to go out and mingle with humanity. And what a good decision it turned out to be.
When I reached the shores of Bondi and felt the sun on my skin, and saw the ocean winking at me and inviting me to play, and saw the thousands of human bodies tanning in the sun, I wondered how anyone could not want to be a part of it all. I have never seen Bondi so packed, and there was a big party going on in the ocean, as hundreds of people rode each perfect, big wave all together. The water was warm, and the waves were just big enough to ride on and be carried ten feet back to the shore, without worrying about survival. Oh, it was great sharing the experience with hundreds of laughing, playing strangers: men, women, and kids. I have never seen such a perfect sky and a perfect ocean.
Would have been better if I had company though. The lone woman is always a target for men who "accidentally" rub up against you in the water, or who keep trying to talk to you and offer to hold your hand to protect you from the big, scary waves. I don't like to talk to strangers when I'm alone, and wearing barely anything. This one group of Indian guys seemed to be following me. I couldn't be sure, but I kept moving away from them, and they always seemed to manage to pop up behind me, and position themselves in such a way that I'd collide into them every time a wave would push me backwards. Then they'd try to make small talk and all that. It was driving me nuts. They eventually left me alone when I made it very obvious that I was avoiding them.
Never be a lone female on the beach on a public holiday. Especially when your bikini is flesh-toned. (I call it my "naked bikini").Merry Christmas to all!!!
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Friday, December 21, 2007
christmas shopping for the kiddies
I find toys highly disappointing nowadays. They're so high-tech and realistic that they leave very little to the imagination. No wonder kids get sick of them so quickly. They're marketed and packaged to make kids go crazy and lust over them real bad. But as soon as the batteries run out and the little lights stop blinking, or as soon as the next shiny new model comes out, they're left at the bottom of the toy bin. Most of them are probably un-environmental, too. How many of these toys will actually rejoin the earth properly? What happens to them after they're abandoned and outgrown? Can they be recycled or reused in any way? What a waste.
Toys are meant to stimulate the imagination, not replace it. With such fancy toys, we'll create a bunch of easily bored kids, addicted to distraction, and outside sources of stimulation. And you know how they say that only boring people are bored. Only people incapable of stimulating themselves suffer from chronic unstimulated-ness.
I also worry over how toys define kids' gender roles so early. I hate how so many girls toys completely overlook their intelligence, like it's not important. All that matters is being pretty and popular and looking like Britney or the Pussycat Dolls. Bleah. And some of the boys toys are truly shocking in their violent intent. Huge, plastic, space-age sub-machine guns, and deadly blades. We teach little girls to be pink princesses with no curiosity, and we teach little boys to be blood-thirsty killers. I refuse to buy my niece a Bratz doll. I hate them.
I commend one of my close friends, Jenn, for giving her 2-year old son a cooking set. He loves to "cook" on his plastic stove. After all, he sees his daddy cooking. It's not a girls toy. Now why can't we see more little girls with carpentry toys, and little boys with cooking sets?
I worry about kids nowadays.
When I was young, me and my friends used to be able to pick up a stone in the garden, say it was "magic", and from then on we'd be entertained the entire afternoon with our made-up escapades. The stone is no more, and cost us nothing. The good memories stayed on, and we were definitely forced to use our imaginations there, a very useful skill.
There was that one summer where my only toy consisted of an empty, metal ice cream can. It served many a purpose for me and a female playmate who lived across the street. One day it would be a palayok (cooking pot) for lutuan (cooking). The next day it was our witch's cauldron for the concoction of our magical potions made from sand from the sandpile on our neighbor's front yard, an assortment of leaves taken from neighbor's bushes, mud, tap water, and once, and dried dog feces we found on the street. Ok, in retrospect it's disgusting, and it was completely unsanitary, but take note that we were trying to come up with the most revolting concoction possible. It was after all intended to end up in the closet of our worst enemy, my playmate's older brother who was a bully. We had a vendetta against him that summer. I don't know if my playmate actually ever deposited the can in her brother's closet as we planned. It is highly likely that she was intercepted by her mother at the door, and our stink-bomb confiscated.
We could entertain ourselves with a box of chalk. We could draw on the sidewalk, play tic-tac-toe, trace each other's outline on the ground, and play piko (hopscotch).
And sometimes, we had absolutely nothing. But it wasn't hard to come up with a game or a make-believe scenario that would keep us entertained for the afternoon.
I wasn't poor, and it's not like my parents didn't have the money to buy me toys. But I'm glad they only ever bought me two Barbies (one when I was 4, the other when I was already 9), that they never gave me a Barbie house, that they bought me things like books, and things like "Make Your Own Solar-Powered Fluttering Dragonfly", a box of old costumes, and the empty box of the new refrigerator, and little dinosaurs that grew big when you left them in water overnight, and books that taught me how to make my own play dough, and a subscription to National Geographic Kids. That's all kids really need, things to stimulate their creativity, imagination, and curiosity.
I think that's why I make a stingy ninang. It's not that I don't want to spoil my inaanaks silly. It's just that I want value for my money. I would rather spend a fifty pesos on a little, squishy, fuzzy, made-in-China rubber worm that I know the kid will love for a long time, than two thousand pesos on a highly realistic, fancy, shiny train set that I know the kid will play with for 5 minutes before moving on to the next shiny, fancy, expensive toy.
While I was baby sitting, I once made my niece her own play dough (yes, I still remember how), and we spent the afternoon shaping them into animals, baking them in the oven to harden them, and painting them. It cost me nothing but what we already had in our kitchen. She was entertained all afternoon, and she loved the finished product so much that she carried the misshapen little clay creatures with her in a bag with her always, till they had to be thrown away because they were biodegrading. She loved those clay creatures considerably longer than she loved some of her fancier toys. Plus, I got to spend quality time with her, too
Well, okay I'm not that stingy, and I'm not against spending for a great toy. Even a good dose of useless, ditzy toys are okay, if only to indulge a child you love. Sometimes, we actually buy the toys for ourselves, not the children. We like to feel like we're spoiling them rotten by giving them the biggest present in the pile. We want to be the favorite tita or the favorite ninang. I'd still resist buying my niece a Bratz doll, but if she really wanted one, well... maybe just this once. ;-)
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Saturday, December 15, 2007
searchers
Time and again, it saddens me how people are so freaked out by anything associated with religion, or even with the word God. Many people are anti-religion, but I doubt most of them have really given much serious thought as to why they feel this way, other than how they find it "freaky", or "useless", or "un-cool".
I have yet to hear one of these people actually talk about their own search for God (or The Divine, or The Transcendent, or whatever term you feel most comfortable with) after lambasting other people's religious practices.
I, for one, still think religion is beautiful, though I don't think I subscribe exclusively to any one religion. I think I fall too much in love with other world religions when I study their core teachings. We all search for the same thing: to unite with The Divine, to love and be one with all things, to transcend our imperfect human condition and evolve into higher spiritual beings.
Sure, all religions have the good, the bad, and the ugly, but that's humanity: good, bad, ugly, beautiful. We've always been this way, and we will always be. Imperfection, striving for perfection, and messing up along the way.
I think we're all on a spiritual journey, it's just that some people are unaware of it (or just don't know where to start looking). I notice that the people who know they're searching tend to have kinder, more open-minded views towards other's religious practices, whether or not they themselves subscribe to organized religion. When you're in touch with your own search, you start to recognize that other people are only searching as well.
In any case, this is my Christmas wish for all "searchers" out there.
1) To be awakened to the wonder and dimension of your existence. To ask questions you will never know the answer to, and to rejoice in not knowing.
2) To see the light and life-force that pulsates in all things. One of my favorite anecdotes is that of visionary and scientist Teilhard de Chardin picking up at iron filing in his laboratory, and seeing that it was "pulsating with life". It was a Theology teacher who told me this story, I may have gotten the details wrong. Nonetheless, imagine the experience of feeling so connected with the all things, that even a simple iron filing can "pulsate with life".
3) To feel deeply connected with humanity, to momentarily dissolve into the stream, the one source that lies under the different currents that divide us. To be able to summon unconditional love and acceptance for all people and all things (even your enemies).
4) To recognize the patterns in our lives, to go with the ebb and flow of life, to know that there is a season and a time for everything. To give meaning to all our experiences and to learn be grateful for all the things life deals our way.
5) To see that every activity can be viewed as spiritual practice. To give meaning to what you do, to see your own importance and indispensability in the scheme of things, whether you're a janitor, or a world leader (or janitor of a world leader).
It's too bad that humans can't live in a perpetual state of spirituality. Everyday-life gets in the way. We've got to go to work, worry about money and relationships, go to the bathroom, and wash the dishes. But it's good to remind ourselves every now and then of the hidden spiritual dimension of things.
Merry Christmas to Christians, non-Christians, and also atheists because even their non-belief is still a search.any whipped cream on that?
I'm flattered because I've gotten a few compliments about my "barista voice". Apparently, some people like the way I call out triple-venti vanilla skim lattes, and tall no whip chocolate cream frappuccinos. O diba? Biro mo, tatawa-tawag lang ako ng mga inumin, at may nagagandahan na sa boses ko sa ganyang lagay. Nakakakilig.
I've been told I "project well". I think it's funny how people even notice these things. It's one of those mindless activities that I don't give much though to. Well, until now.
Now that I know my effortless efforts are appreciated, how can I not be inspired to call out beverages with more feeling and passion? How now can I not give meaning to every word that escapes from my lips? From now on, I will always say the word "whip cream" as if I am savoring its richness on my palate. :-p Hahaha!
I now see how all my years in theatre are coming in handy in this job. How many times have I had to perform in a big venue, with no lapel microphone? My past drama teachers will all be proud that I still know how to "throw my voice".
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Monday, December 10, 2007
happiness you earn
Last night, after an afternoon of picnicking with dear friends in the park, I was possessed by a spirit of such deep gratitude that I wrote this:It may seem like shameless exaggeration to say that I've had a blissfully happy past 3 days. But it's true. So happy I don't even want to write about it. Its been like a happy dream.
Life isn't perfect, but it's pretty damn good. And I feel that deep down inner contentment when you know that even if you haven't got everything, you've got what matters: good times, good friends, the amazing struggle that is this life, the glorious suffering that has brought to where I am, with the people I'm with right now.
Here I am strolling through a garden of flowers, sprouted from seeds I planted almost two years ago, gathering them by the arm-load, inhaling their sweet scent, dreaming of how this young garden is going to grow even bigger and more beautiful throughout the next few years.
Some experiences are golden in retrospect, while other experiences are golden as they happen.
And now stinky little me needs a shower, even though my body already wants to sleep. I'm covered with a layer of grime.
It's been a glorious two years of struggle, and searching, and at times, suffering. Absolutely glorious. If I could go back, I wouldn't change a thing.
And even when the going gets tough, you'll always find a source of free happiness to tide you over in the meantime, such as the company of great people, sunshine, running barefoot on freshly rained-on grass, and laughing like silly idiots.
What the camera didn't capture was me and Jojo rolling down the hill and clutching ourselves in pain after our mid-air collision.Guess we both had the same idea of leaping towards the centre of the photo... even spontaneous, crazy photos should have some sort of traffic control.
Like a scene from a musical.
And this one is just silly.
---Being surrounded by such wonderful people is starting to make me feel the Christmas spirit.more tales from behind the bar
Customer: Hi, I have a question. If I buy this bag of whole bean coffee can you grind it for me?
Me: Sure, just let me know what kind of brewer you have.
Customer: Thanks!
(leaves)
Workmate: What was that all about?
Me: Oh, he wanted me to grind his beans.
Workmate: That sounds kinda nasty...
---
Last week, our sales made our little Blacktown branch no less than 3rd place in all of Australia. Meaning, we had the 3rd highest sales rate among every single branch of The Cafe in Australia.
I have had bigger, more glorious, and more "important" victories than this, but admittedly, unexpectedly, I do feel a glimmer of pride. Sort of like Janine Garrofalo's character in Reality Bites when she became manager of The Gap.
Sure, we are just a team of humble baristas, hey... we done ourselves proud haven't we?
Who would have thought I'd ever like, or even do well in customer services? Who would have thought that I'd actually really enjoy being a lowly barista, despite the fact that my last name, Ateneo education, and former "celeb-status" used to dictate to me that I should have more "important" and "high status" jobs. If I ever became a barista in Manila, people would think I was either a) nuts, c) had no ambition, or c) rich enough to work any job I want and not worry about money. I raised more than a few eyebrows when I told some folks back home that my most immediate job goal in Sydney was to be a barista in a fastfood coffee place.
This is not forever of course. I know I belong somewhere else, and I know it will have to end someday, which is why I am savoring it and gathering as many memories as I can. Some day, when I have a more "important" and "high status" job in some florescent-lit office, I know I'll look back with fondness at the days when life was simple, and when my job consisted mainly of making coffee and putting a smile on the faces of ordinary people. Some moments are golden in retrospect, while others are golden as they happen.
Life is short. We should enjoy our work.last words
Also, can I just say that I am still loving my short hair? I think I'll keep it this way for awhile. I notice that the freckle on my cheek has become more defined within the last 2 years. See what scary Australian sun can do to your skin.Also, there was this crazy hail storm this afternoon, chunks of ice twice the size of golf balls. I wasn't home to experience it, but the hail put holes through our gazebo roof, dented our car and all the cars on the street, smashed windshields, injured civillians, and closed down a mall.
My ma took photos of our ice covered garden. Surreal!
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