Es muss sein

In “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”, Tomas is a highly intelligent man with a woman problem–he has too many of them. And despite the the companionship and dedication of his wife Teresa, he’s always had a problem keeping away from the warm beds of his mistresses.

I feel the same way about this blog. Although I know that it’s been waiting for me all this time like a doting wife staying up for her husband, I’ve always had a problem committing to it, coming home in decent hours and affirming its existence. My four month hiatus is testament to my unwillingness to be tied down. It would seem that every time something major happens in my life, the blog gets shoved into a corner and left to gather dust until things mellow down. It would be unfair to claim that I never had the time to document the progression of my existence, because I did. I just never felt the need to do it on a regular basis. My blog of a wife is a constant in my life, and I’ve been out about town looking for other things to do.

Since the start of the year, I haven’t really had enough time for myself. Now that I do, my only desire is to send my lonesome own packing to go somewhere far, far, away. Perhaps this thing itching me to do something is Wanderlust, or maybe it’s just a really serious case of ennui. It’s uncertain what kind of bug has hit me, but Raymond suggests I let it out through catharsis.

Tonight, as I was trying to force myself to bed, I came to the realization that the most beautiful and most important moments of my life are those I purposely leave unshared. For all the years I’ve kept my journals, I’ve documented nothing but mundane stories of whos whats and wheres, never the full meal, always just the fillers. Looking back, I wish I had enough chutzpah to write a less cryptic entry to explain my sudden loss of word appetite sometime in September. For everyone else, I was having too much fun travelling around Europe. The truth of the matter is, I didn’t have the strength to say that my boyfriend dumped me while I was en route to Paris to meet him. My pride wouldn’t have allowed it; it would’ve destroyed the whole image of a reckless Eurotrip experience.

Now that that is out there, I wished I kept some written memory of better times, like I did in when I was much younger. Surely the writing of my adolescent years wasn’t coherent, but the content was priceless. Now that I’m in a point in my life where beauty unfolds itself each day, I feel like I am doing a great injustice to myself if I don’t capture my more mature musings. I feel like I should be pressing the delete key less often and keeping in tune with more candid insights. If I wrote love letters with as much enthusiasm as I write my journal entries, I would never be able to proclaim love and affection for anyone. I am painfully self-conscious, and I detest the thought of making immortal something that I can possibly regret in the future.

I’ll publish this before I end up deleting it again.

To-do what needs to be done

I should write a “no whining” clause in this blog, but I’d never get around to following it.

School has officially started, and I have the crappiest schedule ever invented. 7:30 class everyday, at least 5 hours of break in between classes, and Monday and Wednesday nights wasted on having to sleep early for one measly early morning class the next day.

On a more positive note, it’s good to be back in school. I don’t operate well in the comforts of my bed, and it should be helpful to be in a more scholastic environment more often. Just today, for example, I accomplished a number of tasks that had been lying idle in my planner for days:

1. Edit articles for ASBR
2. Finish article for contribution
3. Write outline for Beyond Loyola
4. Contact persons involved for outstanding papers for ASBR
5. Submit resumes to job fair
6. Meet up with JTA Audi Friends

This is definitely the most productive day I’ve had in a while. I’m quite proud of myself, really. I feel like I have the renewed energy to take on more projects! More jobs! But then again, I still have about 10 more things I need to tick off my to-do list.

Ah Procrastination, leave me alone, you evil being!

P.S. L’Oreal, please know that I am waiting for you to call me back. It’s been two days, and we’re past the getting to know you stage. What’s taking you so long?

Quick update

I’m fighting a losing battle against insomnia. I’ve been finding it hard to sleep before 3 a.m. since I got back to my beloved archipelago, and it’s been causing some strain in my work schedule. I feel like as though my four-month stint in France left me ill-prepared to begin another grueling semester in Ateneo. Not that school was way easy; the workload was just considerably lighter.

I’ve noticed that it’s been far too long since I last wrote an update. Blame it on my growing insecurity to write things about myself. First, I will not hide the fact that I HAVE been lazy to update. But ultimately, there was a far greater reason: I was having way too much fun. Tugudugsh plack!

I have a good feeling about 2009. It’s going to be an epic year and I just know it. 2008 had me going in circles and took me to so many places. This year, I’m going to new heights. There are a lot of prospects up ahead, and I’ve already planned to let my personal life take a backseat for my professional one.

JTA was the best four months of my life, and I’m still in denial about being back. After a while, I know I’ll have to pick myself up from the pieces of a life that I’m not living anymore. It’s like breaking up, one has to move on, I just haven’t yet. Not as of the moment.

So close to the end

The problem with having such an exciting new life is forgetting to document it.

And alas, it is about to come to an end. I only have a few days left in this beautiful country, and I don’t know where to begin recounting all the memories and all the wonderful relationships I’ve made these past few months.

Thank you, JTA. You’ve been a great friend to me.

It will be a little weird to come back to my room in Manila and have to turn on the fan to keep me cool instead of turning on a heater. It’ll be weird to have my breakfast ready in the morning instead of rushing out the door to catch the bus to school. I’ve begun to like cooking for myself and Paje, and I’m sure going back home will make me lazy to prepare my own meals again.

But then again, there is a need to go back. It will be hard, but there are a lot of unfinished business left. Ha.

I will see you again, Paris, Barcelona, Rome, etc. Perhaps in a couple of years when you’re ready for me.

Au revoir, Adios, Ciao… soon!

Sick to the bones

I haven’t been posting a lot lately because I’m caught in the intersections of actually showing up for school and finishing my laundry and cooking before I head to bed at night.

Fall is around the corner, I can see the autumn leaves on the trees from my bedroom window. Everything is so beautiful; the amber on the slowly wilting grass and the cold chill starting to form. Despite fall’s beauty, however, I have to curse it for giving me an intolerable flu. Yes, Katie is sick. My head feels like it was smashed into with the Eiffel Tower, and I’ve all but consumed to packs of tissue paper.

I couldn’t blame it entirely on the changing weather, though.

Just before the throbbing head and the stuffed nose came into the production of Katie’s sickness, I had a mild sore throat thanks to my massive consumption of Belgian chocolates and goodies. I went back to Brugge, that spectacular World Heritage Site I had a romantic rendezvous in a few weeks ago. I went there, sans any romantic interest, and had a blast nonetheless.

Belgium is a country with two faces, I believe. Our hotel in Brussels gave us a clear view of the vicinity’s major trade areas: the EU headquarters and the WTO buildings. There were multilingual diplomats milling around us as we struggled to find Parc Cinquentanaire. Everything feels so serious and proper, but as soon as we reached the Grand Place, we knew that there was so much more to Belgium than it’s seat in the EU and EC.

I’d like to write more about our little misadventures in Belgium, but I have to rest my head and home this awful virus leaves my body in time for our Amsterdam trip.

Here are photos (click for larger view):

Parc Cinquentanaire

Catching up on my literature

In Bruges (hey, isn’t that a movie?)

Oh, and one last picture:

One Big Fight! Our mini-celebration in Nantes

I’m in a foreign country and I’m waiting for a sign

What does it mean to be in this strange land?

It means waiting 40 mins. to get to school every day. It’s about thinking of what to cook for dinner tonight,where to go this weekend, and who to spend it with. It’s about going to makeshift clubs, not knowing half of the songs, and meeting guys whose faces you won’t even remember the day after.

Living in a foreign country is about getting lost in translation each time, and not minding too much. It’s about fleeting moments at the Metro and having your heart broken by the flutter of time and distance. It’s about meeting someone special and knowing that there is a ticking clock behind that happiness, and bowing out gracefully when Fate takes its regular course.

You will meet a kaleidoscope of amazing, wonderful people and will get astounded by how personalities are crafted across cultures. You will fall in love with one, two, or three of them–maybe for the wrong reasons. But you will fall in love with their gentle accented voices, their opinions, and their utter difference to you.

Being a stranger in this land means taking chances everyday. It’s about being vulnerable and completely ignorant of all these new practices, and opening yourself to the prospect of looking like a fool. Making mistakes is a prerequisite to learning, granted, you’ll never make them again. Seeing all these new things, you’ll be swept off your feet, only to be planted straight up, and shaken back to bitter reality.

Ben Lee couldn’t have said it better: I’m in a foreign country and I’m waiting for a sign. I don’t want to be roused from this ever surreal world. I’m standing between the intersections of dreams and fantasies, and I refuse to wake up–even if staying asleep will pain me.

No regrets, just memories and a comic strip.

Katie Katrina Barcelona

Wow! It’s been 11 days since I last made an update. Did you get withdrawal symptoms? This blog’s title is based on an upcoming movie called “Vicky, Christina, Barcelona”, by the way. It stars Scarlett Johansson and Penelope Cruz, and I’m excited to watch it.

Barcelona

First, we went to Barcelona last weekend to soak up the sun, the shops, and see the Sagrada Familia. The city is absolutely wonderful, and is easily my most favorite city so far. When we arrived at the station, we all felt this weird sensation as if we were coming home. Spanish culture is much like Filipino culture and the people are just as noisy and just as rowdy! We were surprised to find that a lot of the names for streets and places are similar to Manila’s street names.

When we arrived late at night on Friday, Darene’s family decided to take us in and treat us to dinner at their house. It was nice being able to eat paella again, and we felt very welcome by the warmth of our sponsors.

Juan Miro and Darene’s family:

On the morning of our first day, we went around Sagrada Familia which was breathtaking. It was enormous, and the stone carvings were utterly intricate. The fact that it’s been under construction since the 1800s contributes to its overall appeal. Little artifacts and cathedral walls are continually built using the original design of Gaudi, the Sagrada’s architect.

Sagrada Familia:

Plaza Ramblas, Metro, blurry beach picture;

Museo Taurino and more Plaza Ramblas:

The best part of Barcelona, however, were not the sites but the shopping. The whole country is cheaper than France, and all of us girls were rushing to the Mango outlet as soon as we saw it. Zara, Mango, Stradivarius, Berschka. Oh Espanya, we love you! I bought a truckload of clothes and other stuff in Barcelona and was feeling my pockets slowly emptying. I could never shop as much in France or other parts of Europe, so I decided to just spend in Spain when I can, and skimp on extra scoops of ice cream for my crepes in Nantes.

In the evening of our Saturday in crazy Barcelona, we decided to stroll along the seaside. We were absolutely floored when we arrived. The stretch is so lively and dynamic; it makes Boracay look like a small choo-choo train next to a high-speed TGV. The bars are phenomenal, there are a few hundred private yachts on the dock, and the girls look like those Hed Kandi album covers.

And perhaps what was most interesting about our little trip to Espanya was how we felt more at ease speaking in our broken Spanish than we ever felt trying to speak French. Directions given by locals were easy to understand, and pronunciations did not give us head trauma. At the end of the trip, I was even able to joke around with the waiter in the airport…in Spanish!

Stuck in Nantes

I’m much too tired to begin reading my thick bunch of texts for the week’s lessons and too lazy to do another set of household chores.

I was supposed to go to Lille this weekend to surprise Max for his birthday, but had a lot of trouble along the way. First, I did not know that this week was the big festival in Lille. Second, I didn’t know that there aren’t any tickets to Lille during the festival as they are sold out weeks before. The group was also planning to go to Lourdes this weekend, but alas, there weren’t any available tickets that catered to our schedule. Other tickets outside Nantes (Lyon, Marseilles, Nice) were also unavailable.

We were stuck in Nantes for the weekend, therefore.

It wasn’t that bad, though. Too comfort ourselves over our lack of travel for the week, we decided to make the most out of our quiet little city. After class last Friday, we all went to Commerce to look around and figure out what we want to do. While the rest of the group went home to the Beaujoire to eat dinner, Paje and I hung around to spend the afternoon biking and discovering the newly opened stores in the area.

We rented two Bicloos and rode around stores while avoiding pedestrians and speeding Renaults. It was just really unfortunate that it started to pour hard when we got on our bikes, but it was an eventful cruise around the city center, nonetheless.

Living Conditions

I’ve been asked to write about my living conditions and school, but I’d rather write about more travelling. Haha.

Nantes is a really beautiful city with a highly organized and efficient transportation system. All we need to do is buy one ticket and we are free to ride the tram, bus, and ferry systems at least for an hour. There are students everywhere because of the good number of schools dotting the city, which makes good opportunity for the girls to ogle pogi French Fries on the bus or the tram. The only real qualm I have about the region is how quiet it can get and how early the bus ways stop operating. We have to be back home before 9pm or else we have to walk a good 2kms from the nearest tram station.

Our house is an even better experience than the city itself. We all live in a sprawling apparthotel where we each get our big room in a two-story villa. The villa is complete with everything and more. We have a full crockery set, linen, and some complicated Euro appliances. It took me at least an hour to figure out how the washing machine works, and until now, I haven’t been able to make the dishwasher work for some reason. The last time I actually used it was when Max was here, and now it refuses to operate with my Filipino touch.

Doing the other chores has been major fun, though. I’ve been to the grocery thrice this week to pick up some bread, meat, cheese, and other supplies for the house. In a week, I’ve learned how to properly cook, clean, and do laundry. I would’ve never expected to be so engrossed in ironing clothes, but here is Iworking intensely to get rid of the creases on my shirt:

As you can see, I’ve gotten noticeably tanner since I got here because of the great deal of walking every day. I’m genuinely wishing that my color becomes darker in proportion to the weight I start shedding, but it almost seems impossible with the enormous food servings they have here.

Bonjour everyone

August 24/25, 2008

Leaving the Philippines alone for the first time was an emotionally nervewracking feat. First, I had to overcome my own inhibitions to abandon customs that I’ve been used to in lieu of experiences that I know will become the highlights of my adult life so far.

The start of my journey to the other side of the world lasted 21 hours and left half of my butt cheek numb from all the sitting and waiting. It would have been a very boring trip had it not been for Yann whom Roxy and I met on our way to our stopover in Abu Dhabi. He’s a Frenchman based in IRRI and the Philippines and is one of the most interesting individuals I know. He has a PhD in an agricultural specialization, but he also reads palms and shares love stories in his free time. He told me that I have to work harder so I won’t get bored with what I’m doing. I think he might be right. He’s been everywhere around the world studying and doing research, and he fascinated us with stories of his life on the 8 hour flight.

During our layover in Abu Dhabi, Roxy and I fell in love with a little French boy who had the cutest eyes ever. He was tres mignon, and he spoke to us in French, but slowly so we could understand.

When we arrived in France, I was scared that Max might have not woken up to fetch me because he wasn’t answering his phone. All that fear disappeared, however, when I stepped outside the airport and saw him, his father Thomas, our friend Nico, and Romaine (who was taking a video) standing outside and waving at me. I was very much surprised by the welcoming entourage because I thought I’d be seeing just Max, and felt even more surprised when we were led to a white stretch limo in the parking lot by a chauffeur. It seemed to me that Max put a lot of effort to make my trip special, and greatly succeeded in doing so.

After stopping in front of a castle and taking a lot of pictures with the limo, we headed off to Chantilly to eat in the restaurant of Max’s dad. It was a delightfully gastronomic experience as I tasted a smattering mix of French cuisine for the first time. Just by the end of my raviole foie gras appetizer, I was stuffed. But I had to go on… After all, there was still champagne, some escargot, and tastefully cooked scallops and blood sausages.

A quick kiss goodbye, and we left for Lille to meet Max’s mom and his other friends.

We arrived in the North a little late in the afternoon on the same day. Our first stop was Arras, a quaint city near Lille with very beautiful baroque architecture. We went around the area and took pictures of the buildings and everything else, while the three boys were coercing me to say “Six-deux mefit t’e” which meant that people from region 62 were crazy. And we were in region 62, and they were a little crazy indeed.

We arrived in Lille where I was greeted to a warm afternoon beer in the city center. I met with our friend Gaetan who I haven’t seen in quite a while, and I also met Delphine, Max’s girl best friend, who was so nice to me the whole time.

Finally, we went to Max’s house where his mother was waiting for us with a good dinner and some champagne and other drinks. Her friends were also there to welcome me, and I had a good time practicing my French to be able to speak to everyone. It was a perfect way to cap the night off, and when it was time for bed, all I had to do was put my head on the pillow and I was fast asleep from the combination of jetlag and fatigue.