re-running

Going back.

After a long, colorful intermission (I think it was a drag show. Asian-themed. I sipped some strong whiskey and mojitos with ginger).

Touching down, crossing that bridge, seeing all those lights heralding my arrival back into her concrete embrace. No matter what time of day or night there's gonna be some energy to find. Somewhere lurking in the back alleys, speeding through the subways or parading down 5th Avenue.

Will it be like returning to a life put on hold? Everything the same, the surroundings, the friends, the seasons, the city. I'll have the same grocery store, the same train line, the same bars. Even my ex-lover has called to say he'd like to catch up again when I return (as if).

Hitting reset and replay. It's deja vu, but it's not. Familiar furniture, slightly dustier. Me, slightly older.

Everything the same but my insides.

Going back.

Going forward.

club life

I'm not the type of traveler who has to have a steadfast itinerary when I go on trip. I'm a more fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl, and that applies to almost anything else in my life as well. However there are a few must-dos for every visit. Besides the shopping and the sampling of the local cuisine (which I believe is standard for all tourists), I gotta see the nightlife. It's a (very) familiar ritual to me that takes on a new light when in another country. There aren't many better ways to get intimate and immersed into the local culture than by checking out for myself the musical styles, the dance moves, the pick-up scene, the come-on lines in every language, the differences in alcohol tolerance, and the capacity of the people to let loose and have some mindless fun.

Take Washington, DC for example. Seat of power of one of the world's biggest superpowers, full of government workers, lobbyists, lawyers, academics, consulates, and just general brilliance all-around. People sure do take themselves very seriously here, after all, the fate of the world may rest on their shoulders. And it shows in their off-time. I went clubbing in the city this past weekend and I swear I was bored to tears. The scene never seems to change or evolve there. Even the dancing of the city is stuffy! Just a mindless back-and-forth shuffle or a bump-and-grind mating ritual, with no skill or rhythm to speak of. That is, when there is any dancing. Or maybe I'm just hanging out at the wrong places. I don't know.

Thai dancing, generally speaking, is um, shall we say, classical. That is, slooowww and graceful, and it's lovely in traditional settings. That's the music and movement in their blood, but it doesn't translate well in the club scene. People just stand around bobbing their heads. Check out this statement on Thai nightlife, in the form of an installation I saw at an arts festival in Chiang Mai. Incredibly creative and trippy.



I don't know about you all, but when I dance, I become a woman possessed as I get drenched in sweat and my makeup melts off my face. Beware everyone in my path. This is why I so rarely wear stilettos. I'm not saying I'm hot shit by any stretch of the imagination, but at least when I dance, I feel it.

But the older I get, the less capacity I tend to have for all-night, alcohol-fueled ragers in super clubs, and instead tend to gravitate towards smaller, more intimate venues where I can dance my ass off, but I also have the option to sit, drink and chat with friends when my old and decrepit butt needs a breather. A few of my favorites in New York include 205 Bar and APT. Then of course, there's Cielo, the epicenter of what the New York "scene" is to music-lovers the world over, with its constant rotating marquee of all the top names in house and hiphop music. I've sworn off this club a few times-- sometimes the attitude just puts me off-- yet I keep returning again and again. Much like the city itself.

Then of course, my Manila is just full of karaoke, in a true reflection of the utter cheese running through our veins.

My favorite? Hard to say. Any scene on any night can match any mood. But tonight I'm staying in with a beer. :)

and so it is...

Back stateside.

Out of oppressive tropical heat into oppressive northeastern coast heat.

Getting bitten by West Nile mosquitoes rather than malaria mosquitoes.

Trashtastically awesome American reality shows instead of goofily awesome Filipino variety shows.

Fatty Twinkies instead of fatty Chippy.

As soon as I got here my family immediately treated me to a taste of home. Home in every sense! At the Filipino restaurant, my culture shock doubled at the sight of the white, blue-eyed blonde chick at the cash register.

Her: "So you ordered the two-rawn and the pah-law-buck, right?"

Me: "The wha?? Oh! Yeah" (turon and palabok, of course) "Can I also get 2 orders of the leche flan please?"

Her: "2 ley-chee flons coming up! That'll be $58"

What the! My God, I'm so poor here in America.

Last night was all a blur. I arrived in the airport, after 3 stopovers and 24 hours in the air crossing oceans and continents, dopey-eyed and confused and with zero dollars in my pocket, but a handful of colorful Asian bills-- play money as far as Uncle Sam is concerned. And wow, Uncle Sam, there is no way I could have mistaken you for any other country, with all your red, white and blue and homeland security greeting me in its loud, brazen, excitable way, and then getting all up in my face about what in heaven's name do I have packed away in all those "balikbayan" boxes??! ("about 10 million pairs of shoes, your honor") I tried filling out one of those arrival cards, which for a floater like me, is apparently one of the most difficult things in the world:

Name: Erin
Address: None
Phone: None
Occupation: None
Income: None

And I wonder how in the world they let me into the country?!

Tried to catch up on all the VH-1 I'd been missing, but soon after fell asleep. After all, by then it was about 8am Manila time, minus the good night's sleep. Woke up once in the middle of the night but popped a Xanax and all was well again. Woke up at 11am America time. Sounds about right. What jetlag?

Of course I miss the Philippines already, so much and I fear the worse hasn't even hit me yet. I left part of my heart there. But I found the other part here, on the other side of the world.

the last frontier

Quick, name the worst 2 things that can happen whilst on vacation.

1. Getting sick
2. Bad weather

I got slammed with both. I have not been sick in 5 months, mind you. Ever since I set off on my Asia tripping, I've been the picture of perfect health. I thought maybe because I was so happy & carefree? And then, upon waking up the morning of my flight to paradise, otherwise known as Palawan, I felt a nagging itch in my throat & promptly downed all the vitamin C I could get my hands on, just in case. Coz I couldn't really get sick on this perfect holiday could I? That would be a cruel joke. But the throat itch rapidly deteriorated into a sneezing,mucus-y, hacking, puffy eyed, red & raw-nosed mess, & I realized my body will do whatever it damn well feels like doing, whether I want it to or not.

As will Mother Nature. The weather remained a steady overcast haze the entire time. The sun shone through the clouds every now & then, teasing us in a maddening game of peek-a-boo, & every time it did we frantically stripped down to our bikinis & prostrated ourselves in the nearest patch of rays in vain attempts to get that holy grail golden tan. It rained every few hours or so, for about half an hour at a time. The saving grace was that we were already wet anyway.

And of course, it was still amazingly beautiful. Its remote location as the westernmost island group of the Philippines keeps the beaches & waters that surround them pristine & fosters a unique plethora of flora & fauna, & is thus declared a nature sanctuary of the world & the country's last frontier. The landscape was not at all what I was expecting. It was a mix of the jungle rivers, rainforests & terrain of Brazil's Amazon, the majestic mountains soaring out of crystal clear & still waters of Milford Sound, New Zealand, & the limestone cliffs, emerald waters & tropical climate of Krabi, Thailand.

Palawan is touted as an ideal honeymoon spot for being so naturally gorgeous but also so quiet & intimate. I can see why. Our resort, El Rio y Mar, was the only establishment on its own little island & we the only guests. The world could end around us & we wouldn't have a clue. In fact, it was the perfect lonely deserted island wherein to escape to if you've just committed a multi-million dollar bank heist or murdered the entire royal family. Yes, it was romance galore. And us, 4 partyphile chicks on our apparent honeymoon.

The worst part of all my misfortune was that I couldn't dive! Diving while sick is dangerous because the sinuses are blocked & you won't be able to release the dense underwater pressure through your ears. So while my friends gleefully strapped on their BCDs & regulators & went on night & wreck dives (2 of the most coveted types of dives in the diving world), I sadly waved goodbye from shore & promptly got myself a mango rum daiquiri & then a very expensive massage wherein I fell asleep, snoring on account of my clogged sinuses. Sigh.

But I did try to do everything else.

And just to top off my bad luck, I had borrowed an underwater camera from a friend, but lo & behold when I went to use it the faulty battery was dead. So I am left with no underwater pictures. When Sophie finally uploads the ones I took with her camera (in approximately 2 years from now), I'll share more. Underwater is where the real fun happened! The life down there was amazing. Again & again I find that going under really makes my world so much bigger.

Of course the sun came out the day we left. But isn't that just how it goes sometimes?

halina! biyahe tayo!

(Come on! Let's travel!)



Doing just that. :) See you after the weekend.