Neighbours

One of the disadvantages of living in the West Coast is how distant it is from all the happening spots in the Lion City. It takes an hour by MRT to go to Orchard Road, and this would entail hopping from one train line to the other. And if you do that pretty often, chances are, you’d be topping up your NEXT card every other weekend.

Our usual hang out spot is Jurong Point, a mall the size of tRobinsons Galleria. The mall is just one bus ride away from NTU. Last weekend, driven by my yearning for pasta, I went there with my roommate Jeni, and our neighbours CS and Jun Feng (pronounced as Jin Fung).



Jeni and I

One of my worries about NTU is whether I’d get along well with my roommate. I initially wanted a single room, but the powers-that-be gave me a double. I’ve been independent for the longest time that I can’t imagine myself living with somebody, and a stranger at that. Jeni and I have been getting along tremendously so far. We spend enough time together to bond, but also spend enough time apart just to make sure we don’t get on each other’s nerves. So far, so good.



JF and CS

I met the boys when a pipe from our ceiling leaked. My Chinese housemate got a little panicky, and convinced me to go upstairs to inspect if our neighbours did something evil to result in a threat to flood our entire flat. That was how I got to meet CS, who introduced me to his flatmate, Jun Feng. The leak stopped miraculously the next day, and that was the last we talked about it. We still hang out with the boys, though, as a way to cure our boredom. What I like best about them are the stories they tell about their countries. And I think they find the stories I tell about the PI interesting, too. They were really surprised that the country has had two female presidents, has a vibrant arts scene, many love to read, the English I speak is considered mediocre by Pinoy standards, and that so many Pinoys speak and even think in English. The thing is, the PI is a Third World country populated by a lot (though not the majority) of extremely brilliant, artistic, and liberal people.




Bolognaise was how they spelled it in the menu. Bolognese is how we usually spell it in the PI.

About the pasta: it was a little bland, especially if you compare it to what I used to have in Chef d’ Angelo and Sbarro. But I had great company, which makes the $9 I had to fork out worth it.

Photos by Tan Chee Seng and moi

Deadma!

NTU is turning out to be far more demanding than I thought. I have 5 subjects this semester, which is pretty miniscule by UP/Philippine standards, but a killer by the standards of my current home. For each of the subjects, we would have to write a paper, in keeping with the tradition of NTU as a research university. This early, I’ve been planning how to write each paper/project, and have been trying to move heaven and earth to do the best that I can on each—which is really impossible.

And so, I decided to enlist the help of some friends. Many of them were very helpful, and are friends in the real sense of the word. Two though, are not. My messages to them were unanswered. I would have understood if I got the usual, lame, “I’m sorry but I can’t help you because I’m too busy taking care of my shit” excuse, but I didn’t even get any. And for that I’m really disappointed in these people. They suck big time. At one point or another, I have helped them in one way (especially the other one) and would have thought they would have at least the decency to send a reply. The other one though has been a disappointment since high school. I should have expected it, but I have turned into a Pollyanna lately that I forgot what kind of person she is. This may sound trivial to other people (especially to those who are currently working), but school is my world now, and by God, I will do my best to do well in it.

Oh, well. There are other ways of doing the paper. And there are other people who are willing to help. But I will never forget that I got the cold shoulder. In life, I avoid carrying anything heavy. Except, of course, if it’s a grudge. :)

Be Happy

I used to miss home. No make that, I used to really, desperately, miss home. I actually miss everything that I used to hate about the Philippines: getting stuck in EDSA’s traffic, the pollution, the noise. I miss going out at late at night and not worrying about how I’ll go home. I miss inane Pinoy movies. Heck, I actually miss watching Wowowee and Eat Bulaga!

I used to miss flirting with the Summit boys. I miss waking up in the morning and eating tapsilog. I miss my bedroom and my old, comfortable bed. I miss my books. I miss shopping like there’s no tomorrow.

I used to miss the rain. Joan’s right: there’s nothing like the Philippines’s rain. The way it pours: it’s straight out of the movies, as if the sky is mourning for a lost child. It was sweltering during the first two weeks I was here. Not a single drop of water was in sight.

I used to smile only if I think of Manila, and of my friends. My friends are the best. They know I’m not all sugar and spice. They know that I have one heck of a temper, that I can be your worst enemy, that I can be disagreeable, moody, and stubborn. But they’re still friends with me. They’re amazing people. I’m really lucky to have them.

I used to desperately, hopelessly, miss home. I...used...to. I have decided to stop. I snapped out of it when I told my friend about how homesick I was. His answer was this: “Don’t. Be happy wherever you are.”

Be happy. I used to think that happiness is tied to your environment. That it’s felt only when everything is perfect and complete: family, friends, a great job. But happiness, like what a former boss once told me, is also a decision. You can choose to be miserable. Or you can take the easier road and be content.

I still miss home. Yet this is not the desperate, hopeless degree of missing. I still miss the Summit boys. They’re still the hottest men I’ve ever met. I still miss my friends—nobody will know me as much as those guys do. I still miss tapsilog. But Argentina corned beef will do. I still miss my books and my bed. My readings will have to do-- for now. I still miss shopping in Galleria. Jurong Point is not a bad alternative.

I’m missing but doing better. In fact, I walked into tonight’s class smiling, prompting a classmate to say, “Rachel, you seem so happy today.” And I wasn’t thinking of home. I was smiling because of just some joke I heard.

I also think the rain helped. After two weeks, it finally rained. Not the melodramatic kind I’m used to, but it’s still what I have long been waiting for.

Food Dreams

I've always loved food. And it always loved me back. At least, the food back home.

One of my fondest childhood memories was of the whole family eating in a place called Hong Ning Panciteria in Cubao. The place was a little dingy, the owner always wore a scowl, but the place served the best Chinese food I can remember. And just like any Pinoy kid, I grew up frequenting Jollibee. Back in college, I got hooked on the pineapple-topped Aloha and chocolate sundae. Yum!



Was supposed to upload the Jollibee scandal. Pero wag na lang, hehe!

My passion for food continued way after college, thanks to my job as a marketing assistant in a sosyal chain of restaurants. I remember spending my afternoons munching on fudgy brownies and sipping homemade iced tea-- yes, liquid sugar. My food tripping journey continued when I started working for magazines. The late nights can make you either ornery or hungry, or in my case, both. It didn't help that during the first three years of my YES! era, we worked inside a mall, and beside the food court at that. I only lost weight three years ago, but maintaing my ideal weight has always been a struggle.

For now though, I think I'm winning the battle. I used to eat four times a day; now, I only three times. I used to look forward to every meal. At present, it's just something that I do to survive. I used to wolf down every bite. I now take my time and chew everything carefully and sloooowly. I'm greatful for the scholarship I got from the Lion City's government. I've been treated well in campus. But the food here is really, really bland. As in bland like cardboard. I want to gift the cafeteria cook a dozen bottles of sukang puti, Mang Tomas Sarsa, and Maggi Savor. God knows he needs it.

In the Third World, it's a sin not to finish your food. I've been committing that sin since I landed here. Heck, my soul must be burning in hell by now.

Last week, my Malaysian neighbor CS sent me a link of a video with this message: “This doesn't mean anything. I just really want to share you this video. I was really touched.” This was the video:

View this movie at cultureunplugged.com

Chicken a la Carte by Ferdinand Dimadura

Thanks, CS. You're now making me feel very, very guilty. Oh well, I may not be saving the Third World, but at least I'm losing weight.

Cory

I always begin my mornings here by checking the Internet. We don't have a TV here in the apartment, and it's only through the Net that I have contact with the outside world.

I learned about the death of former president Corazon Aquino in an article posted at Yahoo Singapore. It wasn't surprising. I'm very much a realist. It was just a question of when. I just wish I were in Manila. Hearing the news overseas doesn't equal the impact of being in the place where a historical event is happening. I guess that's me thinking as a journalist.

Cory Aquino's 6-year term was not without flaws. But one thing is true: this is the only woman president we respect.



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