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July 28th, 2008
05:45 am - Schipol Schipol
This is a short one (that's what she said)
Schipol. New things I've noticed. The "sphynx" urinals (see post: "In Waiting for In Rainbows" June 11, 2008) have flies drawn in the bowl. How weird. I guess it's like a target, because the aforementioned "splash damage" was negligible when aiming for the fly.
Now, obvious indicators that an airport is way too big. They have way too many lounges. I'm in lounge 52. There are two KLM lounges alone in this area. Lounges go from Lounge 1 to I don't know; at least 60. Then, they have stores just to sell diamonds. DIAMONDS. Who the hell goes to an airport to buy diamonds?! I passed two diamond stores alone on my way to this lounge. I never understood airport shopping...
Now, the good things. Huge lounge, though a bit crowded. Free wi-fi - always a treat. Electricity outlets at every table top, oddly enough a rarity in many airports. Pretty good food - I had a good pasta/salad and a good hot beef soup. FREE ALCOHOL. Splurge before heading back stateside (then splurge again once I'm in Manila). French champagne went well with the pasta/salad, and the draught Heineken (pours perfectly at the push of a button) went really well with the beef soup. I decided it would be uncouth, or at least frowned upon, if I started touching the Jack Daniels or the Johnny Walker this early in the day.
Oh, and I got a free coffee with my Economist. (I couldn't find a copy in Barajas. Spain is too weird)
7.5 hours till I'm in JFK
-AD
Current Location: Lounge 52, Schipol, Amsterdam
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05:31 am - Spain, hasta luego
It has been close to a month since my last entry and the big difference between then and now is that my Salamanca experience is now over.
From where we last left off, Fez was fun. The city was crazy, it was hot, it was dirty and dusty in the medina, but the riad that we stayed at, Dar Seffarin, was unbelievably exquisite. It was like walking through a palace. High ceilings, carvings and engravings in all the doors, archways, ceilings, and pillars. Everything restored to its beauty (200-400 years old, I believe). Our hosts were very nice as well. Photos on Facebook - soon
Then it was off to Tangier. Again, nice city, but very different from the red-washed Marrakech and the white-washed Fez. Tangier was more modern, a beautiful Mediterranean getaway. The weather was cool, the air wasn't dry, the people spoke a mixture of Spanish and Arabic, and off in the distance was Iberia. Beautiful. The riad, again, was gorgeous. Not ancient or palatial like Fez, but very comfortable with a nautical themed interior design. The coolest aspect was the presence of vintage radios in each room and in the public areas. They were all from the 1950's and older, and all in beautiful condition. - I'm a geek, I know - The weird thing was that it wasn't picking up radio signals, but using a cable to pick up the music. Cable radio. No me importa (doesn't matter to me). As long as they're playing classic jazz all day, I'm a happy camper.
Dimension shift. Back to Spain, off to Salamanca. Surprise, surprise! Classes aren't going to be of the cool sort that we had in Barcelona. Oh no. Enfocamp is a "fun camp" - in other words, a prison. "¡Venga vamos chicos!" every stinking day at 8:30 in the morning, accompanied by loud music and an obnoxious DJ on the PA system. Lunch at 9, class at 9:30. Can't leave class to use the bathroom unless it's an emergency - even during 10 minute breaks! Dash to the computer room to use the internet, first-come-first-serve, but only for 30 minutes a day. Metal trays in the cafeteria, just like prison. Can't go back to your room all day. Can't shower now, gotta wait till 8am or 8pm. Let's use up all of your free time today to make stupid Futurama costumes for a stupid themed dance tonight - enthusiasm for the project mandated. (photos are already online, i looked like a terrorist - from the future)
At least the people were great - well, all the non-spanish were great. The foreigners, on average, were interested in learning Spanish. The Spanish kids, however, really didn't give a crap about learning English - obviously, Spanish parents who sent their kids being sent to camp in Salamanca to learn English didn't have education on their mind. These kids were the tattooed, pierced, pierced, pierced, thuggish types. I have never seen as many pierced eyebrows and lips before. There was even one girl that had a rod running from one side of her navel to the other. Like a good inch and half of steel running under her skin. Gross. Thank god we skipped camp by the end of the first week!
The next three weeks were much better. More nights out, better food, a more relaxed atmosphere, and much better classes where people actually wanted to learn. Every once in a while, our camp friends had nights out on the town so we joined them. Our core group of friends from that camp disbanded by the third week as everyone went off to their respective countries. We were saying goodbye to our two friends from Paris when they did the normal, courteous gesture of inviting us over whenever possible. We give and get these at every camp then forget our friendships, it's true. Well, be careful what you offer a bunch of bored Filipinos. OF COURSE WE'RE COMING! This weekend sound good? And two days later we were off on EasyJet to Paris where we spent three days with our lovely friends. Fun, and random as hell.
The rest of Salamanca was great too. From the cheap and delicious tapas two blocks from our house, to the decent club scene, to my one crazy night that I can't describe in detail, to the jazz concert in the plaza outside the University (with the frog of good luck), to a bunch of naked actors on stage during the play, Don Juan. Fun. And to cap off the last night in Salamanca, I had to try the 2 euro shot of "Cannabis Absinthe" which is some 80 proof liquor that kicks like a mule. I had one shot, my first drink of the night, and immediately afterwards I felt like I had just downed 7 shots of vodka. And I became really hungry too. It was a pretty fun last night in town.
The next day, running on three hours of drunken sleep (woke up kinda drunk too), we took a train to Madrid, plunked our things in the hostel, and I walked to the Prado where I spent 6.5 hours walking through every room in the permanent collection and the special Renaissance exhibition. Amazing. I was hungry by the end of it, though, because I hadn't had a bite to eat all day. And my feet were killing me too, even though I was wearing my new, über-cool alpargatas (espadrills). Explains how I lost so much weight over the last 4 weeks, I guess.
So, I'm off home. Can't wait to see friends and spend time with family. Photos on Facebook.
Ciao,
AD
PS: Oh, and I learned Spanish during this trip too! Kinda forgot to mention that
Current Location: Lounge, Barajas T2, Madrid
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June 26th, 2008
12:55 am - A Long Day's Journey Into Fez
BACKDATE 06/26/08 00:55
I did not sleep at all last night. What's new, I never rest well before a day of traveling. Regardless to say, I was not feeling super in the morning, which is not a great way to enter into a long car ride. The drive from Marrakech, through the Atlas mountains, to Fez took close to 11 hours (including a lunch break).
The landscape started out bare. Clay, rocks, shrubbery, and a cloudless sky. It was like this for hours. Then we got to the mountains. There was more greenery, more livestock, and we started to see clouds. As we ascended, we passed through a town with very different looking homes. As opposed to homes in Marrakech that have no covering over the middle area, these houses looked almost Alpine, with tiled roofs, etc. Apparently, it snows in the mountains during the winter. It wasn't any cooler up there than it was in Marrakech however. It was starting to get more humid, though. Then we passed the college town of Ifram. Wow. It was worlds different from anything we've seen before or since then. The grounds were lush, everything was absolutely clean, the buildings could have been at home in a small hamlet in Germany. It was like driving through northern Europe, just with signs in Arabic. We drove for hours and hours. It was hot, the sun was on my side of the car for most of it, and despite the AC I was sweating. The three kids were in the back of the van, and it wasn't the most comfortable.
But we finally got to Fez, and it has been a different experience. We dropped the four girls off at Dar Bennes, which is owned by an American working in Fez. It is small and tight, but very well furnished and restored (and with wifi, a big plus). It is at least 200 years old because it is in the middle of the Medina. Then we all went to the other side of the Medina to where my dad and I were staying. The home is amazing. It was restored by an Iraqi architect and his Norwegian wife (they met in Oslo while he studied architecture there, and they lived there for 20 years before moving here), and they have 12 rooms. They rent out six and take care of their guests very personally. He picked us up from the gate of the medina and walked us to his riad. We ate his home-cooked meal with his wife and with the other guests. The meal was excellent. Then he showed us to our room, which is enormous, with amazing detail and wood work. Words cannot express how great this house is. It is like one of those palaces you find on tours. And everything is original (or restored) from centuries ago. No wifi, he insists that it is not a hotel and that the guests share the downstairs common space and computer as guests at a home would. Thank god for the great modern plumbing and AC, though. I will post photos, but check out his website for photos as well. The plot of land is about 300 sq. meters (around 3000 sq. feet, i believe) but because it is 3 stories high, the floor space is close to 1000 sq. meters (10,000 sq. feet, if my conversion is correct) which is enormous.
I cannot wait for breakfast on the terrace tomorrow morning!
-AD
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June 25th, 2008
10:00 am - Marrakech and music
BACKDATE: 06/25/08 10:00
Marrakech by day was interesting. We were supposed to have a tour guide with us, but once he found out that my aunt would be shopping in the Medina with a local while the rest of us were out touring, the guide just left us because part of his deal is he takes us to tourist traps in the Medina where he gets a commission on overpriced goods (thank god for our driver, though he is a bit tricky at times too).
The former palaces that were available for tourism were interesting, but not breathtaking. I'm sorry if I seem a bit spoiled, but the Alhambra in Granada, Spain takes the cake for preserved Arabic palaces in terms of size, beauty, and quality. And without the hustle and bustle of tourist trapping street vendors and pedestrians who think we are Japanese and greet us with "konichiwas".
We did have a fun time looking at carpets at a government (so not terrible tourist prices, supposedly) carpet store. The guy was nice at first, saying he would just show us an exhibition of carpets to educate us. So he unrolled Berber carpets that were really old (which is more valuable) and some modern ones that were supposedly exquisite. We were served sweetened mint tea, which is a staple in all Moroccan places (like iced tea south of the Mason-Dixon) and told to feel and touch all the rugs. Then things turned to business. First, jokingly, he said he'd take the two girls (my sis and her friend) in exchange for two rugs and a camel. Then the real bargaining went down. We're Filipinos, we're Asian, we have a lot of Chinese blood running through our veins (I am a quarter Chinese by my last estimation) so we know how to haggle... Well, at least the grown ups do. I just sat back and learned. They started out trying to sell us rugs in the 3,000-4,000 euro range, but after almost 30 minutes of tactful haggling my aunt jokingly offered 800 for one of them and the guy was ready to wrap it and ship it. We said we needed to think about it and quickly planned our escape. The once-amiable, joking carpet educator turned into a pretty nasty and pissed off haggler. Oh well. My aunt (not related to me though) can give as good as she gets when it comes to haggling, it seems.
The highlight of the day, however, came at dinner time. In Marrakech, we were guests at the vacation riad of my mother's older sister's brother-in-law who is a Swedish doctor. The six of us in our group had full access to his beautiful, traditional home. And his man-servant, a Berber, who takes care of the house while is away, is one of the nicest men any of us have ever met. He walked around with my other aunt on this trip (mother of my sis' friend) and got her local prices for everything in the Medina.
Our distant host (he's back in Stockholm) told us to get in touch with his good German friend, Hinrich, while we were in town in case we had any questions. My aunt went over to his house after shopping the Medina (and while we were away touring) and apparently his house is also, in my aunt's words, exquisite. Hinrich suggested eating at home instead of getting trapped at a subpar touristy place, especially because the man-servant's wife cooks up an excellent cus cus. Very very good.
But the excellent food was less enjoyable than the conversation we had with Hinrich. He is modest, friendly, and unassuming, but what a fun and crazy and fascinating life he has lived. He is originally from Cologne and he studied art in Darmstadt. The little of what we knew of him at the beginning of the evening was that he was formerly in the movie talent industry in Germany (and successful) and has spent the past five years in Marrakech painting and writing ideas and scripts for German TV.
But his "hot" days from the 70's contain all the fascinating stories. He was an avant-garde performance artist and he knew Stockhausen, a world-renowned avant-garde electronic musician and professor in Darmstadt (a big influence on music during the 60's... see John Lennon and the album Revolver). In the late 70's, he joined a music group signed to EMI called Gina X Performance, which was part of the Krautrock movement of the era, complete with crazy hair, painted faces, and avant-garde video. This came up because we were talking about the conservative Swiss (one of my aunt's is half Swiss) and he told us of this time in the late 70's when he was in Basel when he and his friends were kicked out of a restaurant because of their hair and their outfits. One thing led to the next, and suddenly out come the stories of how he knows the now-old members of Can and Kraftwer, of how he met David Bowie in Berlin, of how he used to hang out and go "Nightclubbing," a la Iggy Pop, with Freddy Mercury, and of how he traveled down the Nile with Brian Eno. My draw was gathering dust on the tiled floor for several hours listening to his stories. While he never touched drugs, he saw Mercury do coke at clubs and saw his loneliness and isolation. Also, he once wore a kaftan from Egypt to a dinner party with Brian Eno, and Eno thought it was so great that he bought a bunch of Kaftans and played his next festival wearing one. All of these stories were so fascinating (of course, I was the only one at dinner who could keep up because no one else knew anything about the avant-garde 70's and Krautrock). And the six of us in our group are a bit unsure whether or not we heard him correctly, but my aunt swears he said that Uma Thurman was recently a guest at his house in Marrakech.
A truly interesting, wonderful man. Brushing elbows with celebrity (or at least those who have brushed elbows with major stars) is always fun, and this time so very unexpected.
This definitely beats my previous German man experience from Boracay, although it is much less funny.
-AD
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June 23rd, 2008
08:15 pm - The Continuing Saga of Weirdness
Over the past two days, I have had the strangest airport experience. Yesterday, as my previous entry documented, was my first flight cancelation. Today, however, takes the cake.
I thought NAIA (Manila) was an inefficient airport. I thought Schipol (Amsterdam) was enormous. But Barajas (Madrid) is more inefficient and huge.
First, we went to the new terminal, Terminal 4. It looks like any other new terminal in Europe. Long and not very tall. Well, once you get in, the pillars are yellow, you look down and you're four stories up. It is huge. So we check in, normal so far. Well, they had the most interesting luggage conveyer belt I've seen. There were three short rubber belts next to the counter that led to the large rotator behind the desks. Looks normal. Until the lady at the counter pressed a button and the middle section of the 3 short belts tilted downwards to reveal a compartment of plastic bins, one of which was pulled up so that my aunt could put her small bag in it. Wow. Now, to the gates. 15 minutes till boarding time. On our ticket, our gate was printed as "RSU" which meant we were in one of those 3 gate groups.
So, we went through security. Normal. Then we got straight into an elevator with a sign above that said "MRSU" each with different travel times above them. Each was above 15 minutes. So, drop 5 floors, and run into the train before its doors close (we were clear by 10 seconds, whew). The train took eight minutes to get to our gates. We were now in T4S instead of T4. T4S stood for Terminal 4, Satellite. Wow, impressive. Go through immigration. Quick. Up escalators, and we were on this floor with massive LCD screens (the thin ones that right stuff out in red dots) all over the floor. Great shopping, a Starbucks (first one I've seen in Spain, because Spaniards have higher standards for their coffee and hate Starbucks), and boards. We were in S42. Bathroom break. Go to gate.
Ah, everything was deceptively normal there. Looked like any other gate in the world. They called for boarding, I was the only one in my group of six that lined up, so I got in early. Except, instead of going onto a gangway, we walked down the stairs and got into a bus. Damn it, i thought, old school. Then we started driving. Ok, 50 people standing in this bus, 30kph, nothing unusual. Then we made a u-turn and headed for a tunnel. No kidding, underground. As in, we were below the tarmac. STRANGE. We were in there for a good 5-8 minutes, chugging along at 30 kph.
Then we emerge from the tunnel, and we're on this 2 way highway that's absolutely deserted, and T4S is nowhere in sight. To the left and right of us was absolutely nothing. Then, a short red flatbed truck sped past us. On the flatbed were bags, I assumed ours. They were going pretty quick, and the flatbed had no railings or ropes or sidings, so those bags looked like they could have just fallen off at any time. I hope mine survived.
We continued on this deserted highway for around 20-30 minutes (no joke) apparently on our way to Terminal 1. We passed by farms, woods (weird, first heavily wooded area I've seen in Spain) and a couple of old airplane fuselages. Really strange. At one point, I saw three guys in tshirts standing outside the fences of the highway, standing around in the tall grass, with large cameras with long lenses strapped around their necks. Strange. For every weird thing we passed by, I kinda made a weird sound or mumbled under my breath, and this Chinese lady in her 20's standing next to me was laughing as well. Clearly, the strangest thing she airport experience for her as well. No joke, 30 minutes.
Stretches of nothingness
We get to the plane. We booked a flight on Royal Air Maroc, but it was being operated by Atlas Blue airline (apparently the budget airline of Air Maroc), but our tickets were printed on Iberia Airlines paper. And we get to the plane, and it's branded as Swiftair. Strange. McDonnell Douglas. Sweet, an old plane probably recycled from a larger airline. So we taxi. And guess where our runway is! We take off right next to the brand spanking new Terminal 4 with it's yellow and red pillars brightly showing. That has to be a personal record of some sort. Easily my strangest airport experience.
But, the good news is, as of the moment I am writing this, I am in the air, on my way to Marrakech. The weather is good, from what I hear. It was good yesterday too, but EasyJet managed to cancel their flight. We suspect (jokingly) that it was because the crew was busy watching the Spain-Italy match. Who knows, there may be some truth to that.
I never expected to have such a strange airport experience at a brand new, world-class airport terminal. But Barajas is just too weird. And this is Europe. Morocco can only get weirder.
-AD
ps: come to think of it, I've been in some interesting airports in my life. There's Hong Kong and Singapore, which are beautiful, although more airports have copied their architecture and design since I first visited in the late 90's. Then, there's Schipol, which is enormous. There is Siem Reap in Cambodia, which has large concrete figures of elephants and other animals (beautiful stuff) right outside immigration, and a bronze Buddha in the main hall with windows looking into a beautiful garden with great water features. It looked less like an airport and more like a spa resort.
Believe it or not, that is an airport (Siem Reap, Cambodia, Aug. 2006)
WRITTEN 06/23/08
POSTED 06/29/08
Current Music: Number One Son - Camera Obscura
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01:18 pm - Broken Promises
So, in my last entry, I promised to take a lot of photos and keep a log on the premise that I wouldn't have internet access in Morocco.
Surprise surprise! I have internet access! But I haven't taken any photos... And I'm NOT in Morocco.
After waiting five hours to get on our EasyJet flight to Marrakech, the airline announced that the flight was canceled. At first, it was delayed because of weather reasons in Marrakech. Apparently, the plane and crew were all set to go. But then they canceled the flight. So we called our contact in Marrakech, and the weather there is fine! The Iberia air flight to Marrakech took off (and I assume got there fine). Stupid easyjet. It's my second time flying on a budget airline. They have great reviews! But this is my second bad experience already. The first was on a Jet Blue flight from DC to Boston. Now, it wasn't their fault that the pilots that were supposed to man our flight were snowed in JFK, so they are forgiven (doesn't make the 7 hour delay any less frustrating. I missed St. Patrick's day!). But this is just unacceptable! It's the first time my flight has been canceled, they clearly lied to us, and barely took any responsibility for it. For hours there wasn't a an EasyJet or airport representative to be found.
A bunch of angry passengers
There was this one heartbreaking story we heard from a Japanese man. He lives in Brazil and his brother, who he hasn't seen in ages, lives in Japan. They were both on their way to Marrakech to meet up for ONE day only (today). Now that the flight is canceled, and the next available flight (which we are taking) on Morocco Air, or something, arrives at 7pm, which means he will miss his brother. This guy was middle aged, or getting close to it, at least, so obviously these times are precious. Absolutely terrible. What's his compensation? 250 euros OR a night in a hotel and a re-booking. We took the 250 each, which barely covers our costs of a hotel and cab fares and a new flight. But that's chump change when compared to a once-in-a-blue-moon meeting with a loved one. That's aggravating.
So, I'm kinda in this time-wasting-vortex (to quote a friend) and I've got nothing to do in the present or in the near future. So, I've looked ahead to the end of my trip and I'm trying to plan an awesome get together (with the only people I know who read this trifling blog, so I don't know why I'm mentioning it). Well, I hope that works out. As long as I don't get on a plane to see them, I'll be fine, because I've only been screwed with regularly by the airline industry. Amtrak screwed me up once (waited for an hour at the Wallingford train station, which is basically a row of benches with no train schedule or display of updates, which caused me to miss dinner at my aunt's house. ugh)
Here's to hoping I get to Marrakech today
-AD
The bffls in matching pants were bored as well... Where's my bffl when I need one? Do I have one? Lol
Current Music: Love Is Lighter Than Air - The Magnetic Fields
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June 22nd, 2008
11:18 am - Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes
Whenever I return to a city I haven't been to in a while, I am always stunned by the changes. This constantly happens to me when I return to Manila, and I'm only ever away for less than a year at a time. Well, the last time I was in Madrid was in 2005. And last I stepped in Barcelona it was also in 2005, but that was only for just a night, so the last actual time I saw Barcelona was in 2003. A good five years ago. And, of course, during that gap we had the global credit boom, and Spain, like the US, was building and building and building.
In Barcelona, the changes are apparent. The city is constantly expanding down the coasts. In the south, they're expanding the airport as well. In the north, they've expanded the port area and built a new performance area, the Forum, which is where I saw Radiohead. Then, just a few blocks from La Sagrada Familia, which is still being built, there is one of those egg-shaped office towers, similar to the one in London.
Then, in Madrid, the city has really expanded as well. Housing. Driving from Barajas airport, we passed many new residential developments. Of course, they're mostly empty because that industry has gone bust. Then, driving into the city, the Caja Madrid buildings that lean (yes, they tilt towards each other) over Plaza Castilla no longer dominate the skyline. There are four new rascacielos (literally, skyscraper) that loom over everything else. They are really impressive buildings.
Another change is the abundance of Zara stores. I wasn't a shopper back in 2001 or 2003, but I didn't step foot into a Zara then. In 2005, there were a bunch, mostly big stores in the shopping zones of the cities. But now they're everywhere. Zara has really gone through a boom as well. Thankfully, they have expanded their men's sections as well. I hate it when stores have floors of racks and racks of discounted women's clothing, and have a small area for men, all full price. Ugh.
But somethings haven't changed. The city centers are still the same. I don't think anyone is touching Las Ramblas or Barrio Gotico in Barca and Plaza Mayor in Madrid anytime soon.
Well, our stay in Madrid is much too short lived - one afternoon out on the town, and an exhausting one at that. We went around Barrio Chueca, the Soho-like gay area of Madrid. We had a pretty good cheap meal there.
Interestingly, we have ended up in these gay areas in both Barcelona and Madrid. Exchample (or something, I can't spell in Catalonian) is the expansion of Barcelona, which is where we were for 10 days. Apparently, however, we weren't too far from "Gaychample," although we didn't see much more than a couple flags here and there. Barrio Chueca is much more intense. It was of the much more aggressive gay fashion type. Bikers with shaved heads and mustaches. Really really massive guys. But, we went down one street of shoe store after shoe store. (my sister is like a bloodhound for shopping) That was fun for a while, till my back started to give because of the sleepless night before.
Well, that ends Spain part 1 for me. This may also be my last entry in a while, because I don't know what my internet status will be for the next week.
I promise to sum up each of the three cities I visit and take a lot of pictures. This will be the first photo-trip I've had since 2006 when I went to Vietnam and Cambodia with my dad. This is why I lug my 30 pound camera bag around the world.
Morocco, here I come
-AD
Current Music: Everyday Is Like Sunday - Morrissey
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June 18th, 2008
09:15 am - And On the 7th Day...
So, I've been in Barcelona for 7 days now (well, it depends on how you count it, and it's always confused me... this is my 7th day... so have I only been here 6.5 days? whatever). And we all know what HE did on the 7th day. I doubt my day will be as relaxing. Granted, the first 6 weren't quite as hectic, and I did a lot of heavy duty resting days 1-4.
Let's see, in that span, I've re-watched the following films with my dad. Note, friends who've been a-yearning for movie lists, a bunch of these are the ones I see often, and I like them enough that I've bought em. These aren't in any particular order:
The Life Aquatic
The Royal Tenenbaums
Rushmore
Magnolia
Good Night, And Good Luck
Lost in Translation
Adaptation
American Splendor
Dead Man
A Hard Day's Night
2046 (caveat, I didn't actually see this with him because I was away somewhere, and I suggest In the Mood For Love or Chunking Express instead if you are in a Hong Kong/Wong Kar Wai mood)
Then there are the films my dad asked if he wanted to watch them, and I suggested against it.
First, the mediocre ones (that I remember):
Bottle Rocket
Almost Famous
Second, the films that might bore him:
Virgin Suicides
Third, the films I love but that I'd be uncomfortable seeing with other people, save a select few film friends:
Blue Velvet
Mulholland Dr. (or as my dad said it, "what's this Mulholland Doctor?"
Yeah, I've seen a lot of films over the last 7 days. Well, six, really, because I just woke up and I have to run to class.
To go with my religious theme here, I don't think God watched as many movies, nor would have opted to see any during his first week. Granted, great directors (I'd assume he'd be one) don't watch their own films. I think Jim Jarmusch (spelling.. I'm too lazy to check) said that in the special features of Broken Flowers. I don't know. If I made a great flick, I'd play it over and over again. Hell, if I had made Rushmore, I'd probably have started a prep school that required kids to show up in patched blazers and a tie. I'm just narcissistic that way, I guess...
-AD
no photo this time cuz i'm in a rush
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June 16th, 2008
11:03 pm - On bad Indian jokes...
We've all heard the Indian joke (although increasingly inapplicable because of their economic prowess) about counting the population of Delhi. The punch-line includes the rolling of a quarter down a street...
Well, I was reminded of that crude joke over the weekend as we were wandering the streets in Raval, an area of Barcelona, where Barrio Chino is located. Interestingly, Barrio Chino is not as much a Chinatown as it is a Little Manila. And how do you count the population of Filipinos in Barcelona. I have no idea, but it must involve tribal dancing to techno music and a lot of kiosks selling pansit, lumpia, and barbeque (Filipino culinary standards).
I have never felt stranger. We were wandering around in a tourist-laden European cultural center, and suddenly I feel like I'm back home in Manila, wandering the streets of Quiapo. There were a lot of Filipinos present for whatever the hell was going on there.
Inspired by this find, we had some pretty good pansit (Chinese noodles) which we followed up with some Red Horse Beer (500mL is $0.50 in Manila, 1.50 euros here) and some Negaraya Cracker Nuts (also incredibly overpriced) purchased at an Asian/Filipino convenience store nearby. Ah, I miss home already.
Nothing much happened today. At least we found some really cheap, allegedly Italian, linen at a clearance sale downtown. Linen jacket for 30 euros. It needs some alteration, but I couldn't pass it up (much less my heavy-duty shopper of a dad). Furthermore, Zara shopping is fun again. My faith in the store is reestablished because they have men-only stores here as opposed to the Madrid store I went to in 2005 where they had 3 stories of discounted female clothing while half the basement was full-priced menswear. Manila has a pretty good Zara store, New York has a fairly good selection, but it's so much cheaper here (obviously). It's like the JCrew for the EuroMetros (I'm a flip-flopper between the JCrew prep look and the metro look... or I may be giving myself a bit too much credit).
Till next time,
Good Night, and Good Luck (yes, I'm watching the movie, which is very well-shot and well-acted)
-AD
ps: I promised my sis i'd post this. it's a tacky (and I hate you) shirt from a chinese clothing store in the area. yes, i'm clearly ripping off Elyse Sewell's blog. sorry.
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June 14th, 2008
11:37 pm - cultural advances
In the words of Vincent Vega (yes, movie references had to pop up eventually in this blog), the strange things about Europe are the little things, the everyday things, the things people that no one really thinks about except foreigners like me. I'll cherish it while I'm still a foreigner because, who knows, I may be getting my citizenship soon.
Well, it's the little things. Today I got up at 6pm because I was up till 6am this morning, and my sis and dad had just come back from lunch and a bit of shopping.. So, waking up at 6 is like waking up at 2 or 3pm elsewhere.
Anyways, just got back from a great dinner by the sea - great seafood, shellfish, and paella negra, which is rice blackened by squid ink. Tasty, one of my favorites from home (thankfully, a lot of Spanish food is made well in Manila). And, lo and behold, it's the little things that make the difference. As Woody Allen says in "Annie Hall," "the only cultural advantage of moving to L.A. is being able to make a right on red light." Well, in Catalonia, I guess there are some greater culinary advances.
For instance, Pan Catalan, which is tomato and oil on bread, is a fixture at all meals. And, for the first time in my life, tadadada, bread served with butter and garlic spread on it already! Just makes the rest of us lazier.
Yes, that is pre-buttered bread. Mixed with fresh anchovies and dipped in olive oil (fresh from the nearest olive groves outside the city) and balsamic vinegar, and it is delectable as hell.
Anyways, I'm off to watch another DVD of mine. Just finished watching Adaptation. Loave it. Don't know what's up next. It's been a very lazy weekend.
I should be out partying. Barcelona is young, but not young enough, I think. I guess I'll have to wait till Salamanca to start mixing with kids my age. Can't wait.
-AD
The actual food was hella good too
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