55- Raju

Look at me, and my girl. Nothing phony about those expressions, and what we are eating. Raju- Petaling Jaya, Malaysia. Anyone with a wedge of reason in his/her mind would know that it would be perfectly reasonable to go to Raju instead of some foreign-transplant type food in Malaysia. Think wasabi in KL. Think creamed spinach and hash browns at the hotel. Not cool in a country teeming with uniquely Malaysian, uniquely Asian, flavors. Why bother with the blandness of anything else? 

There were tons of Roti Prata, lots of Roti Tisyu, and curried meat. Our friend Sharon had so kindly brought us over to Raju so that we could get a clear understanding of what typical Malaysians would chomp down on a typical Saturday. 

I yearn for real hawker culture to unabashedly invade my home country. We have street food here in Manila, but there does not seem to be a method to the madness. As much of a kaledioscope of chaotic sauces, of tangy insanity, what I had seen in Malaysia tended to be, it all made sense. Those from my generation who had been exposed to the Super Nintendo and Playstation games from our collective childhoods would probably remember Mai Shiranui of "Fatal Fury" fame. What she is packing defies gravity, defies sense. Not everything that is illogical is wrong. So much food, outdoors, on leaves. More food you can finish. 

It's crazy. It's absolutely correct. 

Like any good restaurant you go to with people who matter to you, the feeling you get once you leave, tends to point to when you will actually have the chance to return. 

And return we shall. 

MC

54- Views

                A Snapshot of Marina Bay Sands from Gardens By The Bay

I have been grounded for several months now. I have not had the chance to travel due to my day job. It has been frustrating, to say the least, to watch the world evolve from a Global Webcam App, and to live vicariously through Bourdain, Seetoh, Zimmern, and other food and travel hosts.

What does the Marina Bay Sands Hotel have to do with this feeling of stagnation?

The Marina Bay Sands Hotel is a towering structure in the Singapore skyline. It's an architectural marvel. This one, a Moshe Radhe creation. A glittering symbol of the magnificence of an island state often maligned as one lacking in soul, but teeming with a truly admirable, progressive, forward-thinking, attitude.

As with many beautiful, grand, things, it is traveling is an experience best, well, experienced. No proxies, no stand ins, no BS.

For now, I can only look behind a double pane, bulletproof, window.

When I will be set free to see and feel the world again will be the day when I will feel most at peace.

MC

53- Run

I have always enjoyed exercising. During my first few years of working out, I noticed, though, that no matter what I did, I could never get my cardio right. I would have the endurance to do certain things that would allow me to engage in sports such as full court basketball, tennis, and other activities which would require a bit of running. Running had never been a primary focus, though. 

Until recently. 

Where I work, people love to travel, and love to run. At first, I would use our company gym based on workouts which I had grown accustomed to, routines involving a lot of weight training, and in many ways, not enough cardio. I went about focusing running little by little. Sneak a bit here, sneak a bit there. Eventually, I discovered that the running bug had taken over me like a virus in a world without Penicillin. I had become hooked more than I ever thought I would or could be. 

Running has become a part of my competitive and leisure personas. I am currently training to run farther distances so that I can join big races. I also run for better health, to shatter stress, and yes, jusr have tons of fun.

No wil-o-the-wisps in the form of KFC, McDonalds, and general laziness can stop me now. Health is wealth. That is a meaningful- albeit overused- quote. It might be better to say that, "Health is like a slot machine on your lucky night in Vegas. It just keeps on giving."

You get my point. 

Here's a goal- how's about running a foreign trail, or better yet, a foreign race?

Now there's something to look forward to. To fly through the air, and soar across land, would be unlike anything else in this world. That would be THE absolute thrill ride. 

MC

52- Wandering and Wondering.

I found myself wondering about many things this morning.

I found myself looking at some old photos from my various trips around the world, such as the one pasted here (from 2013, of me on the viewdeck of the Marina Bay Sands Hotel), and thinking, "So, I'm just going to be a tourist forever, I guess." Being a tourist in this case would mean doing my 9-5 and traveling, on occasion, to soothe my weary soul. That's well and good, but, on some days when you've had good Korean food, and have just had an education on the ways of the world care of a challenging corporate project, you can tend to think of what lies beyond your nearest galaxy.

Succinctly said, I believe that people, at some point, tend to wonder what lies beyond the horizons they had gotten used to seeing over time.

Your body, your mind, feel comfortable- but what about your spirit?

I remember being in Rome in 2013. My legs were tired. I was jetlagged because of all the flying I had done within the span of a little less than a week. My mom and sister thought it prudent to spend time in our hotel- resting, reading books, watching television. I, on the other hand, opted to walk, walk, walk, and walk- and get lost. It was my spirit, my thirst for adventure, that egged me on. It was the knowledge that I might not ever return to Rome (due to more practical factors- economics, time, obligations back home, etc.) that pushed me explore and find god-knows-what along the way. It was an amazing experience, the thrill of a lifetime. Ironic, really, that to find yourself, you need to "lose yourself".

What is the top of the world like? Is it about the money? The fame? The high you get from "winning" a competition?

What if all the energy one spends on "getting ahead" in life's rat race should instead be channeled towards enjoying the scenery as you plug away?

Maybe the mere act of wondering points to asking too much of life.

Or maybe not.

MC

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