32- Wonder Will Save

                                     To My Buddy Denise: Remember this? 

Another weekend spent working for this tireless warrior.

Applause, please.

Wait, should we demand applause for working like robots?

I guess, sometimes, the answer's an emphatic "Yes!", and at times, the response should be a resounding, "No!"

When traveling, sometimes the best moments of the journey are embodied by "big" memories. A tour around Vatican City. Walking in the Grand Canyon. Strolling down the Las Vegas strip. Going to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Those are the kinds of memories postcards, chapters of books, and travel documentaries, are made of.

What of the smaller moments, then?

No veins, no heart. No bones, no working body. Smaller, happy, moments are the building blocks for the telling of grandiose tales.

In this entry is a photo of two empty plastic cups, atop a wooden barrel, along with a bag of reasonably prices confections at the Hong Kong Food and Wine Festival 2013. I was there months back with my old schoolmate and friend, Denise. Being the young, saving-up-for-the-future corporate blokes that we were (and still are), we played the frugal card during that event, but still managed to have a great time.

I have chosen to speak about this at this time because doing so seems appropriate.

Amidst all the hustle and bustle of daily living, there lie conversations with people you respect, you hold dear, people whom you see every few years. Apart from the rat race, there are so many more things to live for. There exist so many great things to see, taste, smell, and experience. Food is a conduit to friendship. Time is a conduit to immortality. Memories lodged in the distant past are conduits to even more noteworthy moments soon to happen and soon to make one feel whole.

This slightly drizzly Sunday afternoon which I have chosen to touch on today is one such memory. We strolled around laughing, talking about life, sharing an entire bottle of wine, and forgetting about the rat race, the stress within the confines of the corporate menagerie, and actually took time to watch the world go by, listen to birds chirp, and observe all of the "jazzy" things that maybe only retired folks get to notice and truly absorb. For one brief moment, the it seemed like, even in a chaotic city such as Hong Kong, there lay boats which sailed only to one place- the sea of tranquility.

I have a plan- a grand plan. Over the next few years, I intend to work to escape the rat race, to escape the mindless grind of a work without remorse, without mercy, for the dreamer. I intend to slowly disengage myself from one world- and strive to be at peace, and one, with another. Look out. I am aiming for chocalate in a paper bag, a green tea waffle in a plastic bag, with $130 HK wine in tow.

Thanks, old buddy Denise, for helping me make a memory.

It truly did help put certain things in perspective.

MC

A Quick Commercial Break...

As someone who has taken Asian Airlines before, and as someone with friends from China, Malaysia, and the United States, I would like to offer my heartfelt condolences to the families of those who lost their lives on the ill-fated Malaysian Airlines flight MH370.

There remain further questions in this tragic tale, but two things are for certain now:

1) This must be a tremendously painful time for all involved.

2) The grieving process, and moving forward, may finally begin.

Life can be cruel like this.

All we can do is stay strong and hope for a better tomorrow.

Godspeed everyone.

MC

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31- So Tell Me About It.

From Singapore. What is this you ask? 

Art walk. Alley. Friend with camera. 

A perfect opportunity. 

To show crazy. 

MC

30- What a Fine Mess.

I hate being dulled by routine. I am 30 and I feel that way. Call me crazy, because managers, corporate gladiators, will always remind you about how organization is king. 

In Uruguay, as in New Zealand, the number of cows dwarf the number of people. Why does this matter? It is sort of like the eternal battle between chaos and order. One will have to surrender eventually- just like man will have to eat cow, and cow will have to provide for man and his selfish whims. It's an inevitable reality. 

The picture in this entry has an industrial tone- with a twist. The people here, as in the dynamic of man to cow, and cow to man, have given in to the inevitable. Hunger pangs, lamb chops- where you are matters not. A long, stressful, day at the office, pesto pasta- where you at matters not. You MUST eat, and eat now. It's just the way it is. In this case, these people, mouths watering, stomachs rumbling, eyes burning from the sight of such amazing culinary fare, have given in by the roadside, at a night market, at Mercato Centrale in Bonifacio Global City in Taguig, Philippines. Weary corporate warriors, eyes heavy, pockets light and coinless, but packing a punch in bills and plastic, run off, giggly girlfriends in tow, slow talking, fashion sense-less geek close behind, come in droves to eat their blues away. And why not? Whether you're in Manila, in 

Kuala Lumpur, in Singapore, in Chicago- the sound of sizzling meat in a pan is the same anywhere you go. Your sense are titilated all the way home. When the smell of newly baked muffins, freshly toasted bread, newly basted spareribs hits you, you forget everything little doggone organized thing your boss had ever told you and go for the jugular. You mess everything up. You eschew manners, form, structure. You vomit in the organization's "happy bag". Akin to when you actually do relieve yourself, silence befalls you, and you feel amazing within moments. 

Just like Kate Upton on the catwalk, man, this chaos thing, it has a life of its own. It's sexy. It's a thing of beauty. It's a warm, fuzzy feeling, this maelstrom of spilled paint on white canvass. 

It makes no damn sense, but, you like it. 

Food eaten on the street? Oh the horror. 

Wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt to work? Demerit, demerit, demerit. 

Cows over people? No that's just absurd. 

Lots of things are twisted in this life. 

Sometimes, as you fight so hard to curb its power, you realize, in one gallop, that its okay to give it. 

And give in you do. 

My oh my, does that taste spectacular.

MC

29- Where Would You Rather Be?

                                                 Dorkman in a roadside cafe in Pisa, Italy. 

                                                         *Watching the World Go By*

Okay, so where would you rather be?

In some nondescript corner of the universe, slaving away at things which really don't make a dent in the force field known as the mankind's collective conscience,

or

In a picturesque city, sipping on exquisitely brewed coffee, with beautiful people in your midst, and without a care in the world?

I figured you'd answer the latter.

What if you could balance the pragmatic side of living, with the idealistic, and unrelentingly beauteous, part of it?

Is it possible?

Could it be real?

Believe me, its a question most people ask themselves more than they care to acknowledge.

MC

28- I Was There === WWE Summerslam 2013

Los Angeles. August 2013.

WWE Summerslam.

I was there.

What ride it was.

More on this soon.

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27- The Fountain of Dreams, and a Lucky Penny.

                                     Make a wish. Make a wish. Throw the coin. Make a wish. 

One of my final site stops during my Italian sojourn in 2013 was the Trevi Fountain. To that point, I had only seen Trevi on postcards, Google Images, and in movies ("Roman Holiday", "La Dolce Vita"). Needless to say, I was in a welcome state of shock when I finally did get there. The structure was breathtakingly beautiful, ridiculously intricate. Every inch of it had a story, and embodied a powerful message. At 86 feet high, and 161.3 feet wide, the Trevi Fountain is a towering monument to art, to a past that refuses to, will not, and should not, fade away.

There's a custom in Rome that is associated with the Trevi Fountain. Throw a coin in, and you're bound to return to Rome at some point. I had to participate in that, if only for the fact that after everything I had seen while in the Eternal City, Italy, in Holland, in Europe, I just had to begin plotting a comeback. By hook or by crook, I just had to make a return trip at some point. A flight back to elope with a gorgeous Italian girl I had saved from a criminal enterprise? A flight back to reunite with old friends? A flight back for tea with Pope Francis? A flight back for a platter of glorious Florentine Steak? Name the reason, name your price. It does not really matter to me. In the time to come, I must find a way to make my way back.

So, flip went the coin, and, and kerplunk it went into the fountain. This coin, I surmise, had been through many pastry shop counters, bus station collection bins, and train station cashier drawers. Maybe at some point during its journey, it could have felt that its worth wasn't adequately represented by the number stamped upon it. With its arrival in the surprisingly pristine waters of the Trevi Fountain, it had redeemed itself. It now represented the hopes and dreams of a man who had traveled halfway around the world to understand the true meaning of beauty, to become one with a world, seemingly, not his own.

I wonder how often Roman authorities actually clean out the Trevi Fountain? Where do all the coins in there eventually go? To the a fund for indigent youths, perhaps? To Roberto Benigni's tailor? Who knows? It really should stop wondering about that.

My Euro coin is probably in the hands of a rotund baker who works in one of Rome's many patisseries that line its ancient streets, and yes, it probably is in good need of a scrubbing. To eyes that aren't all too discerning, perhaps that coin just signifies monetary value at this point- nothing more. THAT coin could help
a weary student get home on a busy school day, or, help Anthony Bourdain buy his favorite pork sandwich off of a roadside eatery someplace. Tie that piece of loose change to the Trevi Fountain, and a goofball tourist, though, and what you get is a much deeper tale. All matter is stuck in a nexus of significance. Everything can be tied up with everything else. Ponder on that for a while as you sip your morning cappuccino.

A boy to Rome.
Rome feels like the stuff of dreams.
Dreams tied to a coin.
A coin to desire.

A desire to return.

Pronto.

MC



**Interesting Fact from Wikipedia:

"Coins are purportedly meant to be thrown using the right hand over the left shoulder. This was the theme of 1954's Three Coins in the Fountain and the Academy Award-winning song by that name which introduced the picture.

An estimated 3,000 Euros are thrown into the fountain each day.The money has been used to subsidize a supermarket for Rome's needy;however, there are regular attempts to steal coins from the fountain."

26- What Happens When You've Had Way Too Much Coffee

Once upon a time, I won a trip to LA, got myself on television, and won some hearts. No, I didn't win any girls over. I won some hearts by being lucky. I won myself over by being fortunate enough to have slammed the door on monotony and to have said hello to possibility. As far as traveling goes, boy, do I miss 2013. 

There was Hong Kong, and Italy,  Singapore, and Malaysia. Holland, America, San Marino, The Vatican. This entry need not be poetic. We are all entitled to rant sometimes, maybe at the expense of focus, maybe even, at the expense of sanity. 

Is this all life's cracked up to be, the daily grind, the old "1,2,3"? Is what we perceive to be grand, the apex of achievement, measureable by what's on a payslip, what's played on a violin? What if this all didn't make sense, not one bit? What if, in the end, all that mattered was surrender? 

I am not referring to just any kind of surrender. I am talking about a full-on, farewell to arms, a complete forgetfulness of everything you know, or think you know, to be the definition of a purposeful existence. 

What if all the bouncing around made sense after all? What if leaving the one place where you felt at home was the worst decision you ever made, and what if you could never, ever, go back? 

What if all this excitement at 12:12 am was all rooted in the fact that you have yet another report due in a few hours? What if the coffee just doesn't want you to doze off, when you really should be asleep? 

What if, all this, wasn't real, and what if, your real purpose on Earth was to roam, roam, roam? 

Sounds good. Tastes even better. 

I always get sleepy when I'm full. Okay. I'm good. Time to catch some z's. 

MC

25- Hong Kong

I find it funny that despite having been to Hong Kong four times in my life, I still feel like I haven't explored the country enough. 

This Special Administrative Region of China is populated by between 7M to 8.5M million people and counting. I share those numbers, which, are more or less accurate, with you with a bit of a disclaimer. Hong Kong can be quite crowded, especially when you go into the little side streets, and outdoor shopping areas and markets in certain districts. There is great food everywhere. Without being scientific about it, one can find some of the best kinds of dimsum, fried rice, roast duck, nasty bits, tofu, and on, and on, and on- on the planet, in HK. Despite recent diplomatic barbs that have been tossed back and forth between China and my home country, the Philippines, Hong Kong remains a prime destination for a relatively affordable vacation (just stay off the tour bus, please). 

Hong Kong has a Gini Coefficient (scale by which dispersal of income is measured...okay, I had to slot this in to satisfy the stats geeks among us...all in all, if it tastes good, has poetic value, or, contributes to the overall artistry embedded in the consciousness of mankind, I'm there, regardless of Gini Coefficient) of 53% as of 2011. That's pretty high. Every country in the world has multiple phases, and faces. This happens to be a reflection of Hong Kong's. What makes this a point of interest would be that for one to truly be a traveler, a tourist, a man of the world, he/she needs to understand what makes a nation tick, and what makes it burst. That provides you with ample perspective on finding a sense of balance which would then, give birth to a true appreciation for both truth, and, the very essence of beauty. 

And so, we return to the roast duck, and other related matters. 

During my last trip to the island, I was surprised to have seen that a certain branch of HMV in Central, one that I had visited as a teenager, was still open for business. Piracy, the prevalence of internet-based content, has rendered traditional music (and media) collection through CDs and other such mediums, nearly obsolete. I for one, have not bought an audio CD in a couple of years. That's saying a lot considering that I see myself to be a bit of an audiophile. There is a distinct thrill involved in opening an album for the first time, popping it into your car stereo, and letting the music do its magic, one track, one note, one fragment of harmony at a time. We live in a world wherein technology has permitted us to forget the value of delayed gratification and just cut to the chase for better or worse. The process can sometimes be just as important- or even more important- than where the whole process ends up going. I love the iPod, and iTunes, and yes, Youtube Downloaders. Still, that does not take away the fact that places like HMV, Tower Records, CD Warehouse, and the like, will always hold a special place in mine and other people's hearts. Those are chambers of memories that seem quite unmatched in quality. 

Roaming around Central Hong Kong on a Sunday afternoon (on foot) led me to a mountainside road called Old Peak Road. Hearing the name of that road brings me back to 1988, when I first had the chance to travel outside the Philippines with my mom and her friends. The first thing I remember about Hong Kong from all those years ago was the rubberized green flooring at the old Chep Lap Kok airport. I also remember losing a red toy biplane I had bought at a duty free shop sometime as we waited for our delayed Philippine Airlines Flight to Manila in the said airport. I wonder where that toy is now, 26 years after I had misplaced it? I tend to wonder about things like that to break the monotony of having to consider mundane, everyday, things. 

We stayed in an apartment somewhere in Old Peak Road in '88. If I remember correctly, the flat belonged to a friend of my mom who was taking a course in medicine in Hong Kong (a fellowship, I think it was). I distinctly remember being in Hong Kong at the time and going on an Easter Egg Hunt (it was the Lenten Season), and going to Toys R'Us in Tsim Tsa Tsui to buy the Ghostbusters' Firehouse (this made my cry tears of joy!). I also recall getting all dizzy and nauseous on the Star Ferry, and getting lost and being so afraid in one of the hallways of a small branch of Watson's near Ocean Terminal (a saleslady began talking to me in Cantonese...and I got even more scared because I couldn't understand a thing she was telling me). I also recall using the landline in the apartment I stayed in & dialing my grandma's Philippine phone number, hoping for her to answer. I wanted so badly to tell her how amazing I thought Hong Kong was, and how, I felt like an "intrepid spaceman on an adventure on a new planet". 

What I got was an answer from a grumpy Chinese man who sounded like he had just gotten out of the John. Atta boy. I was 5 and had no knowledge of what IDD was. 

Hong Kong is also the home of one of my favorite Cantonese singers, Teresa Teng. I do not speak Cantonese, nor will I probably ever learn to be fluent in it. One would have to be tone deaf, though, not to appreciate her angelic voice, and totally devoid of a heart not to feel the emotion attached to the songs in the Teng catalogue. 

I could go on and on about how much more I want to explore Hong Kong. While I did manage to go to Lan Kwai Fong ("LKF" to partygoers from the territory and those from other parts of the world) with my pal Denise last November, I feel like I wasn't able to really "feel the party scene" that much (not that I am a party animal to begin with). While I've been to some of the newer territories such as Sha Tin, I feel like I need to do a little bit better than Snoopy World (which is not to say that all I did was bum around in malls and shop). I need to return to Hong Kong and "do it" the way I want to do it. 

I need to return to Hong Kong alone. No paparazzi. No tour buses. Nothing. Just me, a bottle of Gatorade, my personal point and shoot, some cash, and a wrinkly map. 

Bucket list: Updated. 

MC