51- MeltDown

It has been quite a while since I have been able to do a refresh here. Since my last post on "finger food", I have seen friends go to Singapore, Japan, and other parts of the Philippines. Work commitments have hindered me from traveling. I still feel hopeful, though, that sooner rather than later, I will be able to lace up my boots and stomp my way around the world again.

This entry is entitled "meltdown" not because I am on the cusp of losing my sanity, nor is it because it is warm outside. What is melting is fat! Yes, the fat's been melting and melting fast!

I have gotten back on the fitness saddle and have gotten hooked on to running. It is because of the combination of running, gym work, and a better diet that I have managed to shed off some unwanted pounds. I am still a mural waiting to be fully painted, but hey, the anticipation for the completion of the pretty picture exists- and is well-founded.

Yes, I have not been able to run off to some remote island on the other side of the world as of late, but I have been able to log some miles in a different- and I must say-fulfilling, way.

Maybe if I run hard and long enough, I will end up in China- just like in the Bugs Bunny cartoons of yore.

MC

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50- Hors D'Oeuvres

                                         Yup, we're all stuck in a sheet pan- together. 

                                       (PHOTO FROM: http://www.foodgloriousfoodbayarea.com)

We are all hors d’oeuvres, appetizers, in the eyes of the powers that be.

When was the last time you had a go at trying to “make things happen” in your life? Did your efforts go forth in vain? Well, if your attempts at success failed to meet the mark, did you not feel crushed? Devastated? Driven to eat? If we are hors d’oeuvres, then, do we not, metaphysically speaking, “eat ourselves”? When we feel saddened by a chain of events, we tend to pass around the “blame baton”, but at the end of the day, we blame ourselves for our mishap ridden lives. We “consume” ourselves by insisting that we are to blame for the disintegration of what we incessantly claim to be an existence worth mentioning in a broadsheet byline, a squall, soaring high above the mundane valleys of life.

At the end of it all, we realize, while immersed in life’s struggles, that yes, we are but bruschetta, cupcakes, crab cakes, a bowl of mixed nuts which, despite being fundamentally flawed in taste and overall quality, tend to be eaten again, and again, and again, either when people are inexorably depressed, or, when they are ridiculously blissful. There’s a plateful of irony for you.

And so goes, this moment of candour about the inner workings of human existence- and walnuts, pistachios, and peanuts swimming in salt, in a bowl that your local barman probably hasn’t washed since, well, “Frasier” was in its 5^th season.

MC

49- LOST: Rome

Rome. April 2013. 

I need to write this to cleanse myself of the microbes of off the traditional capitalist tomfoolery, tasteless humor, and unending cycles of shattered creative glass. No more. 

What was that? Perhaps it was just an odd run at being part of the herd. Not this time. Not for this entry. 

So I was walking around Villa Borghese on a Sunday afternoon. I kept walking, and walking, and walking, until I found myself in Piazza Della Republica. No deal. Not for going home. I found myself wanting to absorb as much of Rome as I could. Why not, right? It was destined to happen. 

By 800pm, I decided to walk home. Walk I did. Walk I did. Walk I did.

"Wait, where am I?"

That is what I exclaimed after a while. No taxis. No buses going around. No tricycles, jeepneys, or their first cousins. No way. I had gotten lost in Rome. At night. 

I am no human compass. Not by a mile. I needed to rely on my crumpled tourist map, and the powers of geographical common sense, to, at the very least, get me onto a main road. Laugh all you want. I wasn't laughing. I was nervous- but excited. I was excited, and all scrambly trying to get my GPS to work. This had become an adventure- albeit, a dangerous one. 

Some bums doing POT began approaching me. I kept my cool. Were they going to rob me? Mug me? Stab me? Kill me? 

Turns out they were too "high" to do any of that. Fortunate goat, I was. Fortunate goat indeed. 

Via Clitunno. A little later into the night. A block from the hotel. Relieved. So yes, my mom was mad about me having checked in late. But hey, the entire ordeal was worth it, in a way. 

Had I not gotten lost, this article would cease to exist. 

I did an Audrey Hepburn. I had gotten lost in road. Migi the adventurer. Migi goes Hollywood. Migi goes to his roots. Migi goes home.

I am not a robot. I am a wanderer, in a positive way. Why bother knowing the way, when getting lost can be oh so exhilarating? Even life changing? 

Lose the GPS. Get lost- but bring some guts (and brains) while you're at it. 

Roma. Charming belle. 

Let's get lost. 

Again. 

MC

48- Progress: Denied?

 
Here's a quick snapshot of Tanah Merah MRT station in Singapore. What most people I know don't understand would be just how VALUABLE a train line to a country's airport really is.

Where I live, we do not have a train that goes straight to our local and international airport terminals. I live in Quezon City, in the northern section of Metro Manila, in the Philippines' National Capital Region. If I were to take a taxi from my place of residence to our "Terminal 2" (where, if memory serves me correctly, I could catch a Delta Airlines flight to Detroit via Narita, for example) on a weekday afternoon, it might take me 1.5-2 hours to get to my plane stop. To travelers who fancy last minute sojourns to catch flights that WILL NOT wait, this sort of route is a death knell.

In Singapore (and in some other countries I've been to, for that matter), there is a train that goes to the airport. Trains going to other major transport hubs need not be luxurious. They just have to be efficient, clean, and relatively affordable. From what might be the same distance as Quezon City to Pasay City (where Manila's major airport terminals are located), I managed to get to Changi Airport in less than an hour. Yes, you read that right.

It is said that a nation's transport system reflects how progressive it is. I love my country, but honestly, our transportation system leaves much to be desired. The fact that we still have jeepneys that stop on a dime at any point that passengers dictate, and the fact that we still have tricycles (sort of like Bangkok's "Tuktuks") which clog up city streets and are most times the cause of unforeseen road mishaps due to their drivers' insistence to enter major thoroughfares for what may only be described as something akin to the Wacky Races with sweat and gore on asphalt, says that we still have a ways to go before we can say that we are truly "global".

The Department of Tourism is perceived as a government office that is often the proverbial landing strip for politicians at the "end of their rope" in so far as their respective terms as Mayors, Congressmen, and Senators, are concerned. Nepotism is the problem here. The tendency is that the powers-that-be appoint these woebegone politicians to head the DOT to repay personal debts/favors, and not because those whom they appoint are skilled practitioners in the field of Tourism. I know of career officials in government who have the sufficient skills, experience, and morals to be in certain key posts. I feel bad for them. I feel disappointed that they get overlooked in favor of people with just a little more clout and influence than the next guy. It is disgusting that our country's readiness to accommodate tourists is compromised because of greed.

I am not saying that the Philippines is the only fertile breeding ground for corruption. Other places face similar problems. It is just increasingly frustrating that we can't even get a train system going for those who, ironically, want to fly out of the country- and come back. The fact that these people come back, or, "go home", to Manila says that there are people who still love the Philippines.

These people love the Philippines, but maybe, not the goons and debauch agencies that run it.

MC