More than meets the eye

One afternoon some months back, I'm taking a break from a stressful day at work, fiddling with something I had bought over lunch break -- a Transformers toy.

Mr Hong, one of the associate directors on our floor (not his real name, but close, haha) is walking around eating a sandwich. He sees me and says, within earshot of a handful of people: "Oh! Aren't you supposed to be playing with Barbie?"

The rolling of eyes.

And of course, the emission of a quick retort -- just as audible, but of course with the added bite of an incensed diva's wit: "Ryan, you saying that I should be playing with Barbie is like me asking you why you're eating that sandwich and not siopao."

Snaps to me. But just as quickly, a save -- lest Ryan unleash his associate director wrath upon this poor junior manager: "But then again -- it's a magenta motorbike that transforms into a girl."

Laughter. Whew, my career is safe.

Arcee transforms into a motorcycle -- notice her bangs, her bust, and her high-heeled boots, and guess what, she yields a crossbow -- while Brawl becomes a tank.

It's true that the Transformer I've bought is a female that bends into a magenta motorbike. But that's not why I bought it -- after all, I've also bought a yellow Camaro that transforms into a robot named Bumblebee.

I buy more Transformers toys over the next few weeks. And, unsurprisingly, I get a few more such remarks.

"It's off-equity for you to be playing with Transfomers!" one brand manager exclaims.

My reply: "Well, it makes me more interesting, doesn't it?"

From the movie, you'd think Jazz would be a really cool toy -- which is why I bought him. Unfortunately, the movie is sort of an overpromise for him. Bumblebee, on the other hand, is one great-looking robot.

The truth is, I was been playing with Transformers as early as grade three, and actively collecting them until around grade seven -- and up until today, I continue to check toy store shelves for Transformers whenever I can. Transformers were my second-favorite toy, next to Lego. I was interested in Zoids for a time, and later Ghostbusters, but Lego and Transformers were a different level. I had over a hundred Lego sets, and over forty Transformers. At any given time, half our living room was either a Lego diorama -- a city complete with road plates and set up with a story like "fire on the townhouse roof", or a medieval setting with knights preparing to joust amid colorful penants -- or an Autobot vs Decepticon battlefield.

And no, I never had Barbie, or My Little Pony, or any of that crap. The closest that I ever came was a short-lived interest in Rainbow Brite, and only because I thought the idea of Color Kids was so clever.

I think my fascination for Transformers was the whole idea of a human-shaped thing (or in the case of Ravage and Laserbeak and others later, a dog-like or bird-like thing or animal-like thing) becoming a non-human-like thing like vehicles or weapons or household objects. The whole idea of Transformers, and of each individual Transformer -- how they could shift form without having to be disassembled and assembled again -- captured my imagination. I would spend hours transforming them back and forth and back again in entranced wonder. I would stare at catalogs at home, or at boxes in toy stores, analyzing the images with my eyes and figuring out how each transformation would work. And I would even fill up sketch pad after sketch pad with transformers of my own -- inside and outside of class.

(A sixth grade Language teacher caught me drawing my robots once and told me to stop and listen to the lesson; I matter-of-factly answered: "I don't need to, I know it already." Snaps to me, and long live the arts.)

When the family met up for lunch late last June, with the excitement of the movie coming on, I asked Inay and Tatay to bring all my old Transformers. That night I emptied out the sports bag Tatay had packed them in, and showed them all to James.

Unlike many of my classmates, I didn't have any of the classics like Optimus Prime and Megatron. I had Starscream, but only much later when I saw him foolishly put on sale at the supermarket. Rather, my first Transformer was the space shuttle Blast Off . It was my brother Jo-Ed's first Transformer, actually -- it was my Christmas gift to him, but I eventually ended up playing with it more. On Jo-Ed's urging, I soon acquired Blast Off's fellow Combaticons to form Bruticus.

My first Transformers! Bruticus is formed from the five Combaticons -- Brawl (tank), Swindle (army jeep), Blast Off (space shuttle), Vortex (helicopter) and Onslaught (artilery truck).

Later Jo-Ed and I also collected Superion, the combination of the five Aerialbots.

Superion was formed from the Aerialbots, the Autobots' first jets. Air Raid (F15), Skydive (F16), Fireflight (F4), Slingshot (Harrier), and Silverbolt (Concorde -- yes, a Concorde, in retrospect kind of a stupid thing to have alongside four fighter planes).

Metroplex, the Autobot city, was sent as a gift from an aunt in the US. Although I secretly wished I had been given Trypticon, the battery-operated Decepticon city, Metroplex nonetheless made a great base for my "minibots" -- Swerve (pickup), Outback (jeep) and Tailgate (car). I know I used to have Warpath (tank) but I've no idea where he went.

Over the years I got more Transformers here and there, buying them with the reward money I would get during Reading of Honors, or receiving them as gifts, or trading with classmates: Kup from the animated movie; Squeezeplay of the Headmasters (Transformers whose heads detach and transform into humans -- an idea toeing the fine line between clever and desperate?); fire truck Inferno and fire car Red Alert; Dinobot Sludge and Insecticon Bombshell.

I was especially proud of some limited edition Transformers I had -- Autobot Overdrive, a red sports car; and the Reflectors, three robots who formed into a camera (a pretty crappy thing to be as a Transformer, now that I think about it, but back then it was really cool). There was pride because these toys were available only through mail order, by accumulating "clip and save" points and mailing them with a few dollars. I was the talk of the class!

I put Transformers aside around Grade Seven, when I started to get busier with school work and PC games came into my life. But like Lego, they were such a big part of my childhood that even when I was already working, I continued to go to toy stores, check out what the new Transformers toys were, and sometimes even buy them. I picked up a couple of Beast Wars toys.

Silverbolt (a recycled name) was one of the Beast Wars Fuzors. These were robots that turned into half-and-half creatures. Silverbolt was half wolf, half eagle. I just had to buy him because it was such a cool toy -- and on 50% discount.

And recently, with the introduction of new toys for the movie, I bought four of them too -- Bumblebee, Jazz, Brawl, and Arcee (not in the movie, but a marketing-driven creating using a name from the animated movie, but this time, transforming into a motorcycle).

Interesting to compare Brawl c.1987 and Brawl 2007. Twenty years ago I thought Brawl was an amazing toy -- how far Transformer toy design and engineering have come is simply amazing.

"Save your money," Inay used to say, "Because you'll get tired of those toys eventually."

Today, a little over a month after the Transformers movie (which delivered on awesome special effects and nostalgia over the toys and TV shows of one's childhood, but not much else), my forty-odd Transformers are back in their sports bag, and my four new acquisitions are just standing on top of my DVD player, untouched for weeks and gathering dust.

By and large, I guess I have gotten tired of these toys. Yet I've no regrets. There's much to be said for toys born out of brilliant ideas -- and which, incidentally, prove that Mr Hong can eat more than siopao, and I never did play with Barbie.

To view or not to view

One of the great things about living in a 38th-floor condo is having a view that encompasses EDSA, Makati, Mandaluyong, San Juan, and Quezon City, and on good days, even Manila Bay.

Unfortunately, it also gives you clear view of the smogline that biscets the scene all the way across, hovering just above the tops of the mid-rise buildings.


Sure, you're so high up, that you're not partaking of that muck.

But then, you also know that once you step out of the elevator onto the ground floor, you're already breathing into that thick, ugly layer of gray.

Some months back, a cousin was in town with her American husband, a scientist (microbiologist, I think) who now works in public policy. Over lunch he talked about steps Washington was taking to battle global warming. Wow, I thought, I hadn't heard that term since grade school -- along with terms like "ozone layer" and "CFC" (learning about which, back then, made me throw away my can of hair spray).

Further, during the last Academy Awards, when Al Gore's An Inconvenient Truth won the Oscar for Best Documentary, I realized what a huge deal it was.

So why don't we hear about it much? No, I'm not about to launch into some political or environmental commentary -- but suffice it to say, as long as our politicians continue to bicker about power and personal gain, we'll be turning a blind eye to 38th-floor views that are staring us right in the face.

Eight Days as Miss Saigon (part 2 of 2; or, why this is the most amazing country I've ever visited)

(From Part 1 of 2: Culture Shock in Vietnam)

Vietnam is by far the strangest place I've visited -- not strange "weird", but strange "unfamiliar" -- so much so that I would use the often-abused word "exotic" for it. It's farther from the world I know than anywhere else I've ever been -- making it captivating on one hand, and shocking on the other.

There's a whole lot that will leave you wide-eyed and drop-jawed with surprise -- just make sure you pack a sense of humor, so potential annoyances leave you fascinated rather than infuriated. After all, no tout or taxi driver, or polluted lake or number of motorbikes, will make me regret coming to this amazing, amazing country.

VIETNAM LIST NUMBER TWO: TEN REASONS WHY, DESPITE THE CRAZINESS, I WOULD DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN. Believe me, with everything I experienced within a span of eight days, it was a challenge narrowing this down to ten.

Reason # 1: That unbelievable Vietnamese food. One of my worries before leaving for Vietnam had been the food. I had never been a fan of Phobac, Pho Hua, Pho 24, or the now-closed Hue, so I could never figure out why Lonely Planet made such a big deal out of Vietnamese food, with a whole book about it for crying out loud. (I figured it was another of those Lonely Planet screwups, like saying in their Philippines guidebook that the Robinson's Ermita food court was a good place to eat.) But as early as my first bite in Vietnam -- a noodle soup snack at a plain little restaurant in Ho Chi Minh's domestic airport, while awaiting our flight to Hue -- I was hooked. It's not spicy like Thai food, it's not saucy or salty like Chinese food -- rather, think of the widest array of herbs you've ever imagined in a single dish, each one flooding your mouth with a surprising and delicate new flavor with each bite. Whether it was spring rolls (which we had for every meal during the first four days!), or stir-fried noodles, or noodle soup, or Hue's pork kebabs in rice paper, or Hoi An's fried wanton and white roses, or a baguette sandwich with herbs and vegetables and beef bought from a market stall, the food was an unprecedented experience. Chowking is to Shang Palace, as Phobac, Pho Hoa and the rest are to the real thing.

Worlds away from Pho Hoa: pork kebabs to be wrapped in rice paper and dipped in peanut sauce in Hue;
and freshly baked baguettes in the roadside market in Hoi An.

Reason # 2: More unbelievable food! Yes, the food was so good that it merits two entries. If reason # 1 was dedicated to the Vietnamese food, here's where I talk about all other kinds of food we enjoyed in Vietnam. How about the Paris Deli and Boulangerie (Boulangerie!) in Hanoi, where we stopped in to share a slice of cake, an eclair, and a couple of frappuccinos, while watching the city go by from the huge window? How about breakfast in Hue, where I must have eaten five baguettes in a Chinese-pavillion-turned-hotel-restaurant, whose huge windows opened right onto the street, right across from the centuries-old walls of the Imperial City? How about still more baguettes, freshly-baked and sitting in baskets at the market in Hoi An? How about a sandwich bar in Hanoi, that made huge sandwiches packed with meats and egg and vegetables and herbs and spices? How about the French bistro Cyclo Bar, where cyclos (something like rickshaws) were transformed into chairs for the diners, and I had a taste of real French onion soup, and the risotto was just so good that I had my first bite of rice in two years? And how about our first taste of haute cuisine at a Restaurant Bobby Chinn, where the prices ($15 per dish!), ambience (rose petals as early as the door step, and a menu that's fit for an English literature class!), and food (steak salad to share, lamb chops for James, a vegetarian platter with the best ever hummus for me, and mint tea and chocolate pudding a la mode to cap it off!) are enough to make you exclaim, sacre bleu, sacre bleu, sacre bleu!

Huge sandwiches at Little Hanoi, and chocolate pudding with vanilla ice cream at Restaurant Bobby Chinn, also in Hanoi.

Reason # 3: Discovering the unfamiliar. I said in Part One of this entry that there's much in Vietnam to rock your boat and shock you silly. But then, isn't the beauty of travel to surprise yourself with places in the world you never imagined existed? Okay, it's not just the motorbikes, and the people's indifference, and the fledgling capitalists' uhm, entrepreneurial spirit. It's also the museums and the sights, where you learn about cultures and histories and heritages that you once didn't know about. A trip to the fine arts museum makes you see that Vietnam had its own distinct style of human realism in sculpture in the 17th century. The My Son archeological site tells you that Angkor isn't the only place you can see Hindu-influenced 10th century ruins. A water puppet show in Hanoi shows you this culture's inventiveness, and its live orchestra shows you the richness of the music that is all theirs. It's countries like these that deserve to have great tourism marketing campaigns... none of that "Malaysia Truly Asia" crap to overcompensate (unsuccessfully) for a boring heritage.

A whole new world: Angkor-esque ruins (only smaller) at My Son; a traditional Vietnamese orchestra at the water puppet show;
a couple taking wedding photos at the Temple of Literature.

Reason # 4: Soaking in Hue's royal atmosphere... on motorbike! Speaking of the unfamiliar, I wouldn't have found out about Hue in Central Vietnam if Lonely Planet hadn't marked it as a UNESCO World Heritage site and a Vietnam highlight. I'm so glad it did. The imperial capital during Vietnam's most important dynasty (Nguyen dynasty, mid-19th to mid-20th centruy), Hue features a walled imperial city (complete with palace), and a countryside dotted with sprawling emperors' tombs. It's nothing as grand as Angkor, or as ancient as the pyramids, but there's an air of majesty all about this provincial town. And the best part: we could have explored it by boat down the perfume river, or from the air conditioned comfort of a car -- but for some reason (or stroke of inspiration?) we chose to explore by motorbike. Ah, the life -- James and me on the backs of two motorbikes, in utter fear that transformed into utter enjoyment as the afternoon went by, zipping around the cool-aired, pine-dotted countryside.

In and around Hue:
at the entrance to the Imperial City;
motorbiking across the Perfume River;
view of Emperor Minh Mang's tomb.

Reason # 5: Losing yourself in Hoi An! And yet again, thanks to Lonely Planet for earmarking Hoi An as a must-see, and telling me it's a UNESCO World Heritage site. It was a trading port town in the 16th - 17th centuries, like Melaka and Penang in Malaysia -- but unlike Melaka and Penang, Hoi An did not disappoint the least bit. It's a riverside maze of streets lined with Chinese shophouses, restaurants, museums, art galleries and temples, that you just love to wander around and get lost in. Pick up freshly baked baguettes from the market, on your way into town; spend the morning poking your head into shops and art galleries; avoid the noonday sun over a superb Vietnamese lunch, and the early afternoon heat in a museum or Chinese temple; grabe coffee in the afternoon; and as the sun sinks in the sky, hang out at the town's courtyard, near the river, watch the tourists and townsfolk go by -- maybe even make a friend.

In Hoi An: hanging out on a street corner (I think it's a playing field for a Vietnamese sport);
at the Japanese bridge, a symbol of the town's multicultural past as a port town.

Reason # 6: Realizing a place like Halong Bay could actually exist. My earliest memory of Halong Bay was the French film Indochine. Catherine Deneuve and Vincent Perez, fleeing from the French army during the First Indochina War, find themselves in a small boat, ill and weak; camera pulls out, dissolves to reveal an aerial shot that's the most poignant image of hopelessness I've ever seen -- the boat is but a tiny speck bobbing in a sparkling lagoon where, like the walls of a maze, majestic rock formations jut out towards the sky. I recognized the images from the guidebook, and told myself -- we have to go there. And so there James and I were, early on a cloudy morning, our boat along with several others heading across Halong bay towards row after row after row of rock formations silhouetted against the sun, and stretching across the horizon. Soon we were among the rocks, huge limestone formations sculpted by sun, wind and sea, with lush greens growing on them, and gentle waves lapping at them; and among the rocks, whole communities of houseboats, fruit vendors, and fishermen. Lunch was on the boat; and after lunch, a cruise among these rocks. A longer cruise would have been great, but just being there, even for just one afternoon, was enough.

Out towards the rocks on Halong Bay; fishermen among the formations.

Reason # 7: Unbeatable prices! Singapore and Hong Kong have great food, and lots to buy, and lots to see and do. But one can't help but convert the prices in their heads (or their cellphone calculators), and cringe at how much each meal or each purchase is setting them back. No such thing in Vietnam, where everything is as cheap as it gets. A meal of four heavenly dishes, including drinks, costs around 100,000 Vietnamese Dong -- or $6.25, or Php281. Delicious baguettes in the market sell for 2,000 VND, or $0.13, or Php6. Souvenirs in Hoi An or Hanoi's Old Quarter have an irresistible combination of charm and affordability -- Vietnamese conical hats at 20,000 VND ($1.25, or Php56), dancing apsara sculptures at 25,000 VND ($1.56, or P70), or oil paintings at $12. Our all-afternoon motorbike tour was $7 per person (P315), including tour guide; decent hotels can be had for $20 per night; and our Halong Bay tour, including the 3 1/2 hour bus rides from Hanoi to Halong City and back, the cruise around the bay, and lunch on the ship was a steal at $30.

Conical hats for only 20,000 VND ($1.25, or Php56); at a music store in Hanoi.

Reason # 8: Making new friends! Two days before our trip, Fr Jett Villarin SJ said during his homily at two friends' wedding: "Travel together. But when you travel, don't just look at each other the whole time -- meet other people." I took this advice to heart, because during the trip, I talked to as many people as I could, and loved it. Chika with travel agents and shopkeepers, who gave us stories and laughs in addition to the tours and souvenirs we purchased. War stories from a veteran of the American War, who took us up to a hill above Hue's Perfume River, for a look at American bunkers and a view of battlegrounds 40 years ago. Wordless games with children, and James struggling to remember his Chinese to talk to an old man in the Hoi An courtyard where we passed hours people-watching. Lighthearted banter with fellow tourists, like the American couple in the Hoi An shop where you could have shoes custom-made for $20, or the trio of English girls who asked for an encore when I played songs from Les Miserables on the piano in Cyclo Bar in Hanoi. And, new friends acting like old friends on our Halong Bay cruise -- Vanh and Ley, sister and brother from Laos; Quyin from Saigon, who had finished a business trip in Hanoi; and Cu, who was of Vietnamese descent but grew up in France. We exchanged e-mails at the end of the day, and invitations to see each other again in our home cities. Who knows? Maybe we'll visit each other again some day.

James with new friends Quyin, Vanh and Ley outside a cave in Halong Bay;
and looking out on the Perfume River in Hue with war veteran turned guide Mr Anh.

Reason # 9: Getting around and seeing so much. I've never been one to stay in just one city when I travel to other countries. With so much of the world to see, how can you just stay put? And that was especially true with this Vietnam trip -- thank God for the scenic bus routes, affordable domestic flights, trusty taxis and car rentals, and even those crazy motorbikes that let us to see so much of this country.

A 30-minute stopover at Lang Co beach, during the 3 1/2 hour bus ride from Hue to Hoi An;
about to board our propeller plane from Ho Chi Minh City to Hue.

Reason # 10: Coming face to face with the people. And lastly, as much as I was shocked by the their lack of etiquette and the hunger for tourist dollars, I also couldn't help but admire the virtues of the Vietnamese people. Where else can you balance three huge baskets of flowers on the back of your bicycle? And who would imagine little old ladies would still have the strength, or the drive, to walk around town selling fruits and corn and whatever else from baskets hanging on a pole balanced across their shoulders? Who can imagine the queue outside Uncle Ho's mausoleum, snaking around three blocks just to be able to see their hero? It's incredible that these people what these people have gone through -- two wars, the bombardment of four armies, the depreciation of their currency, isolation from the outside world -- and how far they've come. And as long as they remain true to the nationalism and pride of the father of their nation's independence; have the strength to bear heavy loads on their shoulders; and find ways to balance impossible loads on their bicycles, then there's no telling where this country, rich in history and heritage and amazing people, will be in the next few years.

A fisherman with his catch, right out of the moat around Hue's Imperial City
(I stepped up behind the guy just when he reeled in the fish --
which flew up and backwards and almost smacked me in the face!);
fruit vendors on Halong Bay;
a family touring the Presidential Palace in Hanoi;
the queue outside Ho Chi Minh's mausoleum in Hanoi;
and ladies eking out a living in Hoi An.

Eight Days as Miss Saigon (part 1 of 2: or, why you should gear up to be culture-shocked in Vietnam)

Actually, I wasn't really Miss Saigon, since all we saw in Saigon was the airport, it being the only direct link between Vietnam and the Philippines. Since I started planning our Vietnam trip around four years ago, I had been wondering Ho Chih Minh City was worth a visit. The books never seemed to say anything really interesting about it; no one I knew who visited the city gushed about it; and finally, Insight Guides convinced me that if I had only 8 days, then I could very well afford to skip the South.

ASIDE: I love Lonely Planet books for their comprehensiveness. I've pieced together a couple of Southeast Asia do-it-yourself travel itineraries using these books alone. But for all their detail, they don't really tell you what's worth seeing and what's not. In contrast, Insight Compact Guides by Discovery Channel aren't too detailed, but have lots of pictures. More importantly, they assign ratings to attractions, ranging from "absolutely must see" to "nice to see" -- making them a great complement to Lonely Planet, and useful in prioritizing activities and designing itineraries.

And so we flew to Saigon -- me using a trip voucher I had gotten simply by agreeing to be bumped off a flight to Singapore earlier this year, James using Mabuhay Miles that I had earned -- then on to Hue, Vietnam's one-time imperial capital and site of a handful of emperors' tombs, that same afternoon. We spent two nights in Hue, then took a 3.5-hour bus ride down to Hoi An, a 16th century port town with distinct Chinese influence, abundant shopping opportunities, and nearby 10th century ruins. We spent two nights in Hoi An, then took a 1-hour ride to Danang and flew from there to Hanoi, Vietnam's oldest city and capital. We spent three nights (taking a day trip to Halong Bay inbetween) before flying back to Saigon, and onwards to Manila.

So, what to think, sitting at home and looking back? Memories are still fresh, of the stress of Hanoi's street crossings; the cacophony of the Vietnamese language; the enchanting flavors of strange herbs and spices; the sights and sounds of markets and shops; and the feeling of a motorbike between my legs. Vietnam is by far the strangest place I've visited -- not strange "weird", but strange "unfamiliar" -- so much so that I would use the often-abused word "exotic" for it. It's farther from the world I know than anywhere else I've ever been -- making it captivating on one hand, and shocking on the other.

I had originaly intended to "chapterize" my blog entries on Vietnam -- in fact, I had already thought up six full-length chapters -- but realized, who'd want to read six full-length blog entries? I, for one, wouldn't. So, in consideration of my readers' attention span, instead of full-length blogs I'm just writing a couple of concise (well, hopefully concise) lists.



VIETNAM LIST NUMBER ONE: FIVE SHOCKERS. Originally this list was going to be titled, "Ten reasons Vietnam is screwed up." But I changed it to "five shockers" for two reasons: first, though there are things about Vietnam that will stretch the limits of your patience and /or have you bitching your whole trip and / or have you rolling your eyes, it's all just culture-shock because the place is so different -- and you can choose whether to hate it, or to be fascinated by it. And second, I couldn't think of ten Vietnamese screw-ups anyway. In any case, consider this a warning to would-be travelers to Vietnam. Steel yourselves for what's to come.

SHOCKER # 1: THE STREETS OF HANOI. "Honda is Vietnam's biggest brand," I told James. On my first morning in Hue, I observed motorbike after motorbike going down the street, and wondered where they could all be going. Just when I thought Hue and Hoi An were motorbike-heavy (where, in fairness to motorists, motorbikes actually yielded to faster vehicles behind them), I got to Hanoi: a city with a literally endless stream of motorbikes, bicycles, motorbikes, cars, motorbikes, tourist vans, motorbikes, tourist buses, and did I mention motorbikes? I've nothing against motorbikes -- except that these motorbikes have no regard for pedestrians, or stoplights, or safety (no helmets here), or lanes. Where there's an opening, there they'll go -- never mind if it's meant for vehicles traveling in the opposite direction (which more often than not there are!). It makes crossing the street a challenge (and an interesting video game concept). Walking the sidewalks would be fun -- if there weren't rows and rows of motorbikes parked on the embakments, forcing you to step down onto the road and hope to God that you won't get sideswiped. As a passenger in a taxicab too, it's unbelievable how people abuse the car horn -- honking at every little thing, and sometimes, at nothing at all.

Hanoi by night. With a non-stop flow of motorbikes (where do they go??),
good luck crossing the street.

SHOCKER # 2: THE "VILLAGERS." Miss Manners that I am -- I put huge importance on pleases, thank yous, your welcomes, excuse mes, and I'm sorrys -- the Vietnamese (the ones I met, at least) were a huge shocker. You can stand in front of an airport ticket counter, or a theater box office, and the girl behind the counter or inside the box office won't just not acknowledge you're there -- she'll even chitchat on her phone. On the streets, people will matter-of-factly push you aside when you're in the way; and in the same way, those who block your way will step aside not at "excuse me" or even "excusez-moi", but at brute force -- and interestingly enough, they won't mind. In the airport, I helped a guy pull his suitcase off the luggage carousel, and he didn't even look at me; as an experiment, I "accidentally" elbowed him while he reached out for his next suitcase, again, interestingly enough, he didn't seem to mind. James was elbowed, jostled, pushed aside, and accidentally kicked by a girl mounting her motorbike -- no sorries at any time. Jumping queues is as casual as a stroll in the park. Order and service and courtesy are in such short supply among the people that Singaporeans would blush. But through it all, it's more shocking than it is infuriating. It's not rudeness -- "rudeness" is those damned Cantonese bitches in their Hong Kong night market stalls -- because it seems there's never any malice. Fascinatingly, somewhat like villagers whose city grew around them too fast, it's really just the way they are.

SHOCKER # 3: THE TOURIST-TRAPPERS. Since the communist party loosened its grip on the country only recently, tourism is fairly new to Vietnam -- and so is capitalism. So get ready for people who'll try to squeeze every dollar out of you the moment they spot your camera or city map. And it's more maddening here than anywhere else I've ever been -- at least in Thailand, they know what you mean when you firmly say, "No, I'm not interested in your sexy girls." Here, on every corner, motorbike drivers will wave at you and offer you a ride even after you've said no twice. In parks, peddlers sell toys, books, and won't leave you alone, apparently in the belief that purchase is driven by annoyance rather than need. In stores, salesladies will overprice whenever they can (is there anywhere else in the world where you have to haggle over bottled water??). And beware of travel agencies like An Phu who are more interested in making a buck than their tourists' comfort and convenience -- imagine a bus load of tourists groaning because the air conditioning has been turned off while waiting for the last few passengers to come! Or being barked at by some guy who just boarded your bus, to check out their hotel, even after you've told them you already have a booking elsewhere!

Beware of An Phu travel agency in Hue and Hoi An!
They don't care about your comfort and convenience --
all they want is to make a buck off you.

SHOCKER # 4: THE DISAPPOINTMENT. My urge to visit Hanoi came from a pantry conversation with an officemate eight years ago, who was gushing about the charms of Hanoi. It's like Paris, she had said, with French cafes and tree-lined streets and lakes. The travel guides strengthened my resolve to visit this Paris of the orient: "city of lakes and tree-shaded boulevards", "alluring", "charming", "Southeast Asia's most beautiful capital". Imagine my disappointment upon seeing the Hanoi lakes were murky green, with discarded plastic bags and mineral water bottles floating around in them; that boulevards were not only tree-lined, but motorbike-lined as well, so much so that the sidewalks vanished. Don't get me wrong -- there are astoundingly beautiful places. Lots of them. Just don't believe every photo will see.

Tortoise Stupa in Hanoi is photogenic by night -- but up close by day, the lake is murky green and lined with trash.

SHOCKER # 5: COMMUNICATION GAPS. On the funnier side, it's as if, with the dawn of tourism, the government taught all shopowners and motorbike drivers and cyclo drivers three simple words: "Where you from?" Indeed, it's asked everywhere. We'd answer, "Philippines." They'd say, blankly, "Aaaah..." Apparently, the cities we visited didn't get very many Pinoy visitors. (Although one of the more interesting moments of our trip was an afternoon in Hoi An, when a girl on a bicycle just pulled up in front of us and asked us the magic question. Thinking a bit, and deciding to have some fun, I replied, "Russia." She gave me a funny look and said, "No." I laughed and said, "Philippines." Then came the blank "Aaah..." I said, "You don't know where that is." And she said, "I do. Philippines." And went on to ask if she could see some Philippine money, which she had never seen before...) But on the darker side of Vietnamese communication gaps are major inconveniences. Arriving at the Hanoi airport for our flight back to HCMC, I had run out of Vietnamese Dong and was going to pay in US dollars, and tried explaining the exchange rate, but the driver spoke no English, either had flawed math or no integrity, grabbed every dollar or dong I showed him, and assaulted me with halitosis, until I shouted at him to give me back my money and just take $16 and VND2000, which was the right amount by his exchange rate, even if he insisted I give him more. Further, business communication with small hotels is apparently not as professional as you'd like -- the Hanoi hotel I had emailed said they would pick me up from the airport, but they weren't there when I arrived -- and when I called to ask about the pickup, she had the gall to get irritated and tell me to take a cab and she'd pay me back. Naturally, I took a cab -- and just went to another hotel.

Vietnam is a great place to just walk and walk and walk...
if only the sidewalks weren't congested with parked motorbikes.

So there: five warnings to anyone who intends to be a tourist in Vietnam. There's a whole lot that will leave you wide-eyed and drop-jawed with surprise -- just make sure you pack a sense of humor, so potential annoyances leave you fascinated rather than infuriated. After all, no tout or taxi driver, or polluted lake or number of motorbikes, will make me regret coming to this amazing, amazing country.

What makes this place so amazing? Check out Part 2 of this entry.

FRIENDSHIP: A homily written and delivered by Fr Arnel Aquino SJ last June 9, 2007

Yes, this blogger is back! And with three catty entries in a row, one can just imagine how bitchiness has gone un-blogged and bottled up for the past two months. What's been keeping me so busy all this time? Writing marketing recos and managing office projects... musical-directing a major Hangad concert... and putting together June 9.

What's June 9? Well, it's a milestone whose blog entry is long overdue. A Mass... a dinner... family and friends... but rather than me describing it in detail, I'll still this acerbic tongue for a while, put on some reflective music, and transcribe the homily delivered by Fr Arnel Aquino SJ last June 9. One of the best gifts I could ever receive from anyone.

FRIENDSHIP

his evening, we celebrate in anticipation the great feast of the body and blood of Jesus Christ. But why is the gospel that of Luke's feeding of the five thousand, instead of the last supper according to John? Would it not have been so much more intimate if John were the one to speak to us about the Lord's body and blood, right on the last night with his friends? On a Thursday night, when he washed his disciples' feet? A night when he huddled close with those who meant his life to him, to break bread with them, in anticipation of his broken body the next day? A night in which he would finally symbolize, through a meal, his total, unrelenting self-outpouring to God and to his friends? But no! We're to deal with the feeding of the five thousand that takes place during the heat of the day, when there is aloft no ambient intimacy, when there are strangers everywhere sitting around and pressing against each other's social bubbles, when the bread doesn't even come from Jesus, and the wine, the wine that further warms company with friends, where is the wine?

But that this mass is a thanksgiving celebration for the friendship that we all enjoy makes Luke's gospel providential. The everyday-ness of our gospel for tonight, its apparent lack of flair and drama, has in fact vital things to teach us about friendship... real friendship.

First. Look at the crowd that hems Jesus in. Notice that as people set their eyes on the Lord and draw themselves nearer to him, they are in fact drawn ever nearer to each other. Now that is true of friendship as it is of marriage as it is of a religious or secular organization: that when we set our eyes first on the Lord, and approach the Lord together--the key word, together--we are very naturally drawn so much closer to each other.

Surely, we all pass through that stage when we tell each other under our breaths, "You and me against the world," and look at each other nose to bloody nose, googly and cross-eyed, hold hands, and walk through life sideways. And yet, where has that taken many of us? Friendships like that have mostly been weak and short-lived. But you look at our moms and dads, or titos and titas, or old partners who are still together after all these years... and you notice that they've long ceased looking at themselves. Rather, they've turned and look towards God, side by side. They've realized that there is a Much Greater than their own love for each other, and that is a God who loves them. When we set our eyes first on the Lord and approach him together--the key word, together--we are very naturally drawn so much closer to each other.

Secondly, when you look at the Lord's friendship with his disciples, you realize that their intimacy is deepened while they pour themselves out, body and blood, so to speak, in the service of the learger community. Yes, they spent their quiet times together. Yes, they got to gather 'round and tell each other of the deepest stirrings of their hearts. Yes, their intimacy grew out of unabashed self-disclosure. But the bonds of their love were seasoned and strengthened as they pour themselves out as friends to others who had need of them.

You know how it feels when you have choir practice, for example, and you notice that a pair of lovers among you is at a stand-off. And during an innocuous meeting, one of them speaks his mind, and the other argues, until they bicker about an innocuous matter. Then you realize, they're not arguing about the agenda! They're having a lover's quarrel! Nothing is more irking in a meeting than lovers who have private business to settle, yet have not gone beyond their relationship in order to spread the friendship to the larger community. To spread the luv.

Believe me, I speak from experience: our intimacy with the one we love is deepened while we put our friendship at the service of the larger community--when we look beyond ourselves and each other, and see that we can use our love to nourish others. Far along your relationships and friendships, you will realize that your ability to nourish each other eventually runs on empty when your community life--our life with other friends and family--fall ill. Because, my dear sisters and brothers, believe me, everything about us is eventually communitarian. "You and Me Against the World" is just a song. It doesn't promise a love that is long-lived for as long as that love keeps embracing only each other and keeps the community away. Because when family and friends are kept away from our strangle-hold embrace, someone finally comes and says, "Oh, get a room!" That's the signal that we've hugged each other too tightly.

Lastly, do you notice that Jesus never had a soulmate? I guess you could say that he was so single-minded about pouring himself out in the service of the many that he really didn't need one. Or, since he was never tainted with sin, I guess the total lack of selfishness that plagues sinners like us, might have given his very consciousness that fantastic latitude that you and I are yet to strive for in our lives.

But I tend to think that because he was human like ourselves, he must've carried around with him an emptiness, like we all do, an emptiness that he might sometimes have wished were filled. You know how empty you and I feel when we trust so completely and yet are cheated, when we forgive so painfully and yet are violated, when we love so deeply and yet are short-changed. You cannot say that our Lord's life wasn't anything like that--for he trusted yet was abandoned, forgave yet was convicted, loved yet was punished with the cruelest death of all. So in the heart of this Jesus must've been an emptiness hollowed out by God himself which nobody on earth can fill; no, not even a soulmate.

We carry in our hearts an emptiness hollowed out by God and can never be completely filled with anything or anyone earth-bound, not even by our soulmate if we have one. But hallowed be that emptiness because only God can make holy... hallowed... and only God can fill it.

We thank the Lord for you who have found their soul-mates, for that person is a gift from God. But for the rest of you who still wonder when you're gonna meet yours, let me tell you something to think about. Not all people have soul-mates. It is possible that one goes through his or her life not ever meeting a sfeyshal samwan whom one considers as half one's soul. And you know what, it is okay. It is okay. It is not abnormal, it is not irrecular, it is something you ought to consider yourself you should suffer over. It's been said, "We were all created as half souls... and we are to spend our life looking for the other half that completes us." Well, that's the fluff that Hollywood is made of. It sounds so true and heart-wrenching because it is a beautiful line... of a script. But it is not true.

That we were created half spirits might be true... but the other half has been given us from the very moment of our lives--our family is half our spirits, our friends make up half our souls, and all those that love us--they complete us.

So on this feast of the self-outpouring of Christ, we celebrate our being drawn closer to the Lord and therefore to each other. We celebrate the gift of many friends who have nourished our relationships by accepting us for what we are and for whom we love. Finally, we celebrate the emptiness that God hollowed out of our beings, which he in turn hallows, makes holy, with his Presence.

All this is what I think Luke teaches us about the feeding of the five-thousand on this feast of the body and blood of Christ: it is the feeding of five thousand friends by Jesus and his friends.

Thank you, Paulo and James, for bringing us together in this breaking of the bread.

The gold standard of advertising brilliance

Great advertising, marketeers say, communicates a relevant brand benefit to a clear target audience, in a manner this is clear, distinct, memorable, and compelling, such that the target audience makes a choice for that brand.

("Marketeers" -- I just hate that word. Ranks right up there with "monies" and "choiceful.")

Knorr used a colorful, catchy, happy music video to convince kids that eating vegetables isn't gross but fun, and in the process encourage moms to buy Knorr sinabawang gulay.

Enervon came up with a selling line and jingle that distinguished itself as the multivitamin that gave you more energy, para mas happy.

Dove staged a campaign for real beauty to strike a poignant chord, and subtly convince all women that with Dove, anyone can, and should be beautiful.

But every so often, there comes an ad that's just so earthshaking ("game-changing", as we "marketeers" like to say) -- just like this landmark ad along EDSA. It's not hard to imagine: marketeer briefs ad agency (and pays monies): "convince SEC A & B families that the Spider is their best choice for a second car."

And voila! The brief passes through the ad agency's brilliant creative minds, and they come up with...



In fairness to them, it's a material that's clear (no mistaking this message for anything else!); distinct (never seen anything like it!); memorable (it left such an impression that I can recite it in my sleep); has an unmistakeable target audience (unless you're blind); relevant (of course any A & B family would love a second car!); and... uhm... compelling?

Hahaha. I guess ensuring that a product actually delivers on a benefit is another story.

Gods bless

A face has launched a thousand ships... a picture can paint a thousand words... and a t-shirt whose message and sentence construction really make you stop, and think, and realize you don't really know how the hell to react, can trigger a thousand catty little thoughts.

Hehehe. You can just imagine my excitement snapping a photo of this, and the many many many different captions that ran through my head as I planned the blog entry.

But then again, in fairness to her, you have to admire her idealism, and her courage to spread her message of hope to everyone who's fortunate to be standing behind her. I guess idealism, hope and courage come easily to those who've got a whole bunch of Gods smiling down upon them, and their t-shirts.

Reader participation encouraged! Everyone is welcome to submit their own captions for this snapshot of Miss Creative (it's home-made, go Pentel pen power!) and her "Who Are You Kidding" t-shirt. Submit now!

Kick me up

Last Saturday, the DJ's on RX 93.1 were excitedly encouraging people to message them through Yahoo Messenger. "Add us up! Chat us up!" they said over the air.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard these phrases being used. I'd seen them in the networking cum dating sites I visit for fun. "Add me up! Text me up! Chat me up!" write site members in their profiles.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the DJ's, the same way I roll my eyes at these online friend-hunters. I wonder if they realize that to "add them up" would mean to "derive their sum"... that "text me up" works just fine without the word "up"... and "chat me up" is incorrect from whatever angle you look at it?

Sigh. I really don't know where these would-be idioms sprung from, but it's uncanny that they came right on the heels of those crazy text phrases "kain na me" and "ok lang me." By my count, "kain na me" consumes more energy than "il eat na" (16 keystrokes vs 15); and "ok lang me", at 18 keystrokes, is almost thrice as exhausting as "m ok", which has just 7. Someone introduce me to the linguist who thought up these phrases.

Now, it's not as though taking liberties with the English language is exclusive to the jologs class, as my officemates would say. Because even in our office -- one of the world's most respected companies, supposedly hiring only the top students from top universities -- you have people who, as an officemate similarly frustrated with the state of English in the office said, "invent words to make up for their limited vocabularies."

"Choiceful" is one of my office favorites. Going by the principle of root word and suffix, it should mean, "with plenty of choice." But in the office subculture, it means "selective." As in, "let's be choiceful about which project to invest in."

Roll my eyes. I've never been able to figure out why they can't just say "selective."

Strangely, I had also heard "choiceful" from my boss in my former company, who had come from another globally respected company. Hmm. Does global market share give companies the license to fool with the English language?

Well, at least I no longer hear "monies." As in, "We can't put out this advertisment because we don't have any more monies." Yes, hah, as in plural for "money"! It took a supreme effort to supress a laugh the first time I'd heard "monies" used in a meeting. To think, that's one of the things they tell you in every year of grade school: money is like sheep, you don't need to change the spelling to make it plural.

To many, English is a status symbol -- the better yours is, the higher your rung on the social ladder. Interestingly enough, the jologs guy desparately looking for a date, and the marketing director in his global company, aren't that far apart English-wise. I guess the jologs guy better just be choiceful about how to spend his monies... and the marketing director can just text up his general manager.

Tiffany's biggest fan

Check out song 3382. Is it another of those videoke listing typographical errors? Or does the typist feel that one Tiffany just isn't enough?

Promdi and loving it, PART 2

"I thought you weren't going for diary-type entries," James said after he read my last entry.

"It's not diary-type," I replied. "It's... uhm... photo-essay."

Three days into my life as a blogger, I had declared I wouldn't go for diary-type blog entries. "My genre will be 'light essay'," I had announced to James, who in response had given me his signature stoic "Okay."

Well, maybe my last entry was a bit diary-type. But no matter, because whatever genre it was, the important thing for me was to capture a once-in-a-lifetime memory. Here's more of that memory... deciding to embrace my newly-unleashed promdi-ness, and thanking Greenhills for bringing my Cybershot phone into my life at just the right time, I took as many pictures as I damn well could during my four days in the Shangri-La Singapore's Horizon Club.

One of the three "use-all-you-want" computers in the Horizon Club Business Center on the 21st floor.

There was a photocopier too... I should've brought all my Hangad scores and made 10 years worth of copies there.

The Horizon Club's exclusive lounge. Never got to sit here, though.

Who'd want to sit in a lounge when Orchard Road awaits?!

Love the details, dahling. How about this bathroom scale...

... or a double sink. His and hers? How thoughtful of them to give me an option. Hahaha.

I wouldn't mind working 24 x 7 if I had an office that looked like this.

(No wonder I was sleeping at 2 AM every day of my stay.)

I just had to take this camera-phone-self-portrait-in-the-mirror. Not often the Horizon Club has guests who look like this.

Me at my desk.

View from the top.

Surveying the souvenirs once back home: promdi na, social climber pa!

(James: "You're not a social climber until you display everything."

Note to readers: everything's hidden away for when they're actually useful.)

Not in picture: Shangri-La desk calendar, Shangri-La shopping bag. Hahaha what a hick!

While waiting for the bellboy to pick up my bags in preparation for check-out on my last day, I felt like Cinderella just before the clock struck twelve, anticipating the moment when the magic would end and everything would turn back the way it was.

"...But, I thought to myself, at least I'd be going back to my Prince Charming."

"How long did it take you to think up that line?" James said in his usual kebs way.

Ass. I smacked him hard across the shoulder.

It was good to be home.