Shelf Life: The Pursuit of Happiness

At the start of 2009, I committed to read one book per week, alternating between fiction and non-fiction. I'm happy to report that among my many resolutions I made I have managed to stick to this... and this resolution alone.

For someone severely lacking discipline as my self, I'm surprised at my devotion to sticking my face between the pages of books. Since January, I've in fact significantly cut down my online surfing time in the evening to give way to reading.

The rule is I should be reading by 10 p.m. and I should read at least two hours per night. We all know what a challenge that is to my infamous attention span, chai mai?

Often I finish a couple of books per week. That obviously is one book beyond my quota and is an accomplishment in itself considering what a sloooooowwwww reader I really am.

OK, enough about me.

Let's read books, all right?

Below are some of my more noteworthy reads in the past few months:

Oryx and Crake (2003) by Margaret Atwood

"Immortality," said Crake, "is a concept. If you take 'mortality' as being, not death, but the foreknowledge of it and the fear of it, then 'immortality' is the absence of such fear. Babies are immortal. Edit out the fear, and you'll be..."

Margaret Atwood is one of my favorite authors, having been previously spellbound by The Handmaid's Tale, Cat's Eye, and The Blind Assassin.

Oryx and Crake is an apocalyptic tale of the future of humanity (or the lack of it) if man acts god. This novel gives readers a glimpse into the many horrible things that could go wrong with our civilization, thanks to global warming, hyper-entertainment, corporate megalomania, and most strikingly, the perils of genetic modification.

Using vivid language, Atwood does not preach, rather she leaves you spooked and perplexed (in a nice way). A total must-read for those who are into novels that raise questions more than give answers.

The J Curve: A New Way to Understand Why Nations Rise and Fall (2006) by Ian Bremmer

All states on the left side of the J curve are eventually headed to instability and fundamental change, because repression and isolation from the outside world cannot be maintained forever. Every wall erodes. Over time, for every repressive action, there is an equal and opposite reaction of resistance.

The J curve is an adroit way to illustrate that a nation's stability is dependent on its level of openness. From the left side of the curve, as a nation opens up it becomes less stable initially and eventually transitions to stability.

Bremmer explores the cases of extremely closed states (Cuba and North Korea), moderately closed states (Saudi Arabia), states that reached the bottom of the J curve (South Africa and Yugoslavia), and more open states (Israel, Turkey, and India), and these countries' peculiar historical, social, and political contexts that landed them on certain points of the J curve.

Essentially, the author suggests that only by giving citizens (starting from the middle class) of closed states a means to interact with the rest of the free world - and absolutely not through economic sanctions - would autocratic governments be pressured from within to increase their level of openness.

Despite its scope, the book is very easy to grasp largely because of its clear language and coherent argument. The framework obviously makes it easier to understand the complexity of geo-politics. I highly recommend this book for those who are interested in international relations and globalization.

The Geography of Bliss (2008) by Eric Weiner

Money matters, but less than we think and not in the way that we think. Family is important. So are friends. Envy is toxic. So is excessive thinking. Beaches are optional. Trust is not. Neither is gratitude.

... so concludes Eric Weiner in his brilliant, brilliant, and I mean brilliant book on searching for the happiest places in the world. This book served numerous "aha!" moments to me.

The author travels to various locations in the globe to explore happiness... Iceland, Switzerland, Bhutan, Moldova, Qatar, the UK, etc. What he discovered is that there is absolutely no one formula for happiness. He says, "Places are the same. It's not the elements that matter so much as how they're arranged and in which proportions... Getting the balance is important."

Interestingly enough, the author also made a stop over in Thailand where he observes in a chapter called "Thailand: Where Happiness is Not Thinking"...

... on Thai permissiveness: "They merely acknowledge human urges, erotic and monetary, and get on with it... [an author wrote] that in Thailand, 'Anything too big to be swept under the carpet is automatically counted as furniture'. The Thais might not like the furniture, might constantly be bumping into it, but they don't deny its existence."

... on the Thai smile: "Just as the Inuit are said to have may words for snow, the Thais have many words for smile. There is yim cheun chom, the I-admire-you smile, and yim thak thaan, the I-disagree-with-you-but-go-ahead-propose-your-bad-idea smile. There is yim sao, the sad smile. And my favorite: yim mai awk, the I'm-trying-to-smile-but-can't-smile... It's all fascinating, but I also find the Thais' variety pack of smiles disconcerting."

... on mai pen rai: "It means "never mind". Not the 'never mind' that we in the west often use angrily, as in 'Oh, never mind, I'll do it my self', but a real, just-drop-it-and-get-on-with-life 'never mind'. Foreigners living in Thailand either adopt the mai pen rai attitude or go insane."

Ladida... :-P

So there, the book weaves all these anecdotes from different cultures. For more good-humored insights into how different societies interpret and pursue happiness, I definitely recommend this superb book.

Glam Girl, Indeed

OMG, look who was mentioned in uber popular blog Bangkok of the Mind? It's no other than the Hiyas ng Surigao... moi!

Here's what BKK Dreamer has to say about this humble blog:

"My favourite Thai-based blogger is Kawadjan... He has a distinctively gay voice, is funny, and writes with a sense of excitement about this place.

He also visits out-of-the-way places in Bangkok, and travels in the region. Could you ask for more?

I like the look and feel of his blog: it is a good place to be. He sounds as if he is talking to intimate friends, even though he is also writing for a wider audience."

Awwww... isn't that awesome? Read the rest of the entry here.

Blush, blush... I'm flattered, I truly am.

We all know that Bangkok of the Mind has such a wide readership, so to be mentioned in his blog is nothing short of phenomenal.

But more importantly, BKK Dreamer is one of the few BKK-based gay bloggers I honestly admire coz he does not focus on the sleazy side of the city. What his many readers get instead is a vivid and honest chronicle of the life the of a long-time BKK resident and his rather quirky relationship with his BF. Oh, and it's no secret that BKK Dreamer is a friend.

Khorp khun maak khap, Mr Dreamer.

Litson

In the latest Best of Asia list of Time Magazine, the Philippines' lechon carved its space in the Best for the Body category. Yeah, kinda ironic for such a cholesterol saturated dish, no?

This is a nice surprise, indeed. After all, Filipino food has never made its mark on global cuisine, unlike say Vietnamese, Malaysian, or Thai.

Clearly, most Filipinos have this love affair for lechon. I even know some Muslim friends who eat lechon!

Reading the article brings many childhood memories... of fiestas, birthdays, weddings, binyag, and just about any celebration. A celebration is soooo not complete without lechon, di ba?

I honestly don't like it that much coz the meat is usually bland. Heaven is in the crunchy skin of course, but then that also can be a bore eventually. I love lechon paksiw though. That's when leftover lechon is cooked in vinegar and seasoned with black pepper and laurel leaves. Yum, yum, yum. We usually eat it for days after the actual occasion for the lechon and the longer it sits in the sauce (read: fat), the more yummy it becomes.

Goodness, gotta visit Las Islas Filipinas ASAP for some lechon (or litson, as we call it in Surigao).

Here's the article on Time Magazine:

Best Pig
The Philippines

Pork Art
by Lara Day

When itinerant TV chef Anthony Bourdain — whose love of all things porcine is famous — visited the Philippine island of Cebu with his show No Reservations and declared that he had found the "best pig ever," many viewers were as surprised by the hyperbole as by the country he situated it in. But not Filipinos, among whom the zenith of porky perfection is an indisputable fact. It was just a matter of time before the rest of the world found out.

The pig that made Bourdain smack his lips with glee was lechón, or slow-roasted suckling pig, perhaps the Philippines' most beloved dish. Usually reserved for fiestas, it has long been a source of fanatical adulation; it's not uncommon for a whole lechón, still hot and fresh from roasting, to be flown across the country for special occasions. Though varieties differ regionally — stuffing can include any combination of lemongrass, tamarind, star anise, garlic, green onions and chili leaves, while condiments range from a light vinegary dipping sauce to a thick liver-based gravy — the basic concept remains the same.

A pig is roasted for hours over a fire of open coals, slowly rotated on a bamboo spit, lovingly basted and meticulously supervised until its flesh is so tender, moist and succulent that it can be sliced with the edge of a plate, and its skin so crisp it can be punctured with the tap of a finger. You could call it the Platonic ideal of a pig, but it's doubtful if Plato, or even an entire faculty of philosophers, could have imagined anything so exquisite.

Bow

Lookie, lookie who got featured again in the very influential Las Tres Estrellas blog?

Madame Ekra Tan, one of the estrellas, visited BangCock in mid-March on his way to Siem Reap with the other two estrallas, Mama O and Lyka Bergen.

He arrived on the very same day that I also arrived from a diving trip in Koh Tao. The morning we met I only had like three hours of sleep, while he barely slept. Haggard much?

Anyway, we met at the Grand Palace and then I walked with him to Wat Pho where he took some shots of me under the gaze of the Reclining Buddha.

So this is the pinis pradak (right, Ricky Reyes?).

Ay, wrong picture. (Why does Naomi always come out in my posts? Cunt).

Here's one of the pics Ekra Tan took.

Now, this is not about me. Choz!

This is about the artistry of Ekra Tan, noted fashion photographer and budding housewife. I was just there to translate his creative vision.

So please see more of my pics in this post called Ang Kawayan... Bow!, a portfolio by Ekra Tan.

Madame Tan, thank you so much for giving me the honor of standing as your subject. Chooooooz! You know how to contact me should you need a model in San Francisco, di ba?

Finally, TSE!

Padala, Pasalubong, at Pendants

God knows I love my friends... especially the rich, generous ones. God knows I would do anything and everything for them as long as they give me stuff to please my vain ass. Oh, we all know that.

Topping the list of my mega generous friends is no other than Fuchsiaboy ITSELF, the primera social butterfly of Khmerlandia, and the pillar of my emotional and mental stability no less. Charing! We just share the same passion for haughtiness, bitchiness, and fierceness. What to do, aber?

He sent me these ukay finds from Khmerlandia. Are we having an early Christmas?

Gosh, Donita Rose, you are really challenging my resolution to wear nothing but black these days. These are all colorful, printed stuff! I can't help gushing over them cute shirts though. I will try my best to werq them around BangCock, I swear.

So in the tradition of how Fuchsiaboy posts his latest fashion finds (such as this entry), let me share with you the loot from Siem Reap.

Love them all, bitch! Merci beaucoup!

Also, he sent me this cork necklace from the Don Protasio collection.

In fact this is the second cork necklace he sent me but we all know how that pendant ended up in Manille instead courtesy of an intricate conspiracy masterminded by Kiel, as documented in this entry. Love, you Kiel.

Well at least Fuchsiaboy sent me a replacement, no?

Also in the picture below is a neon green fishbone necklace that I found in Chatuchak. Fuchsiaboy also has the same agaw eksena necklace in neon pink (check the related posts here and here).

The bronze pendant is a find in Chatuchak, which I bought when my hermana visited me earlier this month.

Oh, now that we are speaking of generous friends, let me also share with you the Marc by Marc Jacobs shirt that I got as a pasalubong from Las Tres Estrellas.

J'adore this shirt!!! Bongga the fabric ha. Purrrrfect for summer. Salamat, bitches.

[G], thanks for the Marc by Marc Jacobs bonnet too ha. And I will feature it in my fall-winter post. Terima kasih, bitch.

Kiks, I also love the trousers you brought from Hong Kong. I love it. Thanks, dear. But you really think that I'm THAT skinny, no? Unfortunately not. Sadness. Don't fret though coz I'm werqing hard on losing weight as we speak.

My dear amigas... salamat nang marami. Keep them stuff coming! Choz!

The W1 Chronicles: Suds

Nota / Sakru Na, Kah / Pahabilin / Teka, teka, teka...

This post is a second entry to a two-part series (choz!). I recommend you read this post first, which is also found immediately after this entry. Yun na! Tse!

Let's continue the story, mi amigas, shall we?

After first meeting W1 we continued to keep in touch. We sensed that we had a stronger relationship and so the communication intensified, and the feelings as well.

My longing for him was serious. I started making plans to move to Cebu to be with him, and he knew this fully well and was supportive of it.

I finished the research project I was working on and soon after I packed my stuff and left Davao for Cebu. It was the end of the summer of 2002, I was beaming with the promise of being with the person I loved.

I lived with my friend for a few weeks and started looking for a job, while at the same time trying to get in touch with W1. I could not reach him for some reason that escapes me now. I tried calling his house but supposedly he was out of town for a week for his grandmother's funeral.

Anyway, I waited. And waited. At some point I stopped trying to get in touch coz I knew that he would be the one to call me when he was available.

Also, I rationalized that if he was really into the relationship, he'd find ways to contact me coz he knew fully well that I already moved to Cebu for him.

Bastard did not call and he remained unavailable.

I even sent a number of emails to tell him that I was already in Cebu. I even emailed him my mobile number, just in case he lost it. My letters went unanswered.

Whenever I wandered around Cebu I was constantly searching the faces of the crowd, hoping that I would somehow stumble into him. I was certain that we'd find each other.

But apparently I could not find someone who's hiding from me, di ba? This is a classic tale of naglaho nang parang bula.

I spent my days in Cebu making sense of what happened to W1 and me. I filled pages and pages of my journal, pouring out my frustration and disappointment. I'd sit for hours in a coffee shop writing. (Note to self: look for that journal in a baul in Manille.)

It did not help that my friend went home to Surigao and I had no one to talk to. I busied my self with my job-hunting, but that also went unsuccessful.

Eventually I divided my time between Surigao and Cebu. I remember filling my days with moping and writing long journal entries that I realized only sucked me deeper into the vortex of loneliness.

For months, I would whisper "I love you" before I sleep coz that's what we said to each other every night.

For the first time I realized what it meant to be broken-hearted and that you actually feel it in your gut. I never thought it was that literal.

I had many questions in my head, mainly if he felt the same way for our relationship as I did. I wondered if all that was just an illusion he created, I don't know, for lack of better things to do perhaps. I questioned his honesty and loyalty and ultimately if he loved me at all, which he said he did.

I dissected the questions over and over again for many months. Often I'd just find my self staring into empty space, playing the same questions in my head that I've thought about nearly every idle moment I had.

My friend told me that I needed proper closure, a concept I could not grasp at that time. I simply wanted answers and the more I pore over them the more annoyed I got at my self for being such a wimp.

Six months after moving to Cebu, I received an SMS from W1. He apologized for disappearing just like that. He confessed that his ex and him got back together and he did not have the courage to tell me about it. Oh, classic.

By then I had gotten so tired of thinking about us his explanation did not matter anymore. I just wanted it to end. I don't know what "it" means really. But I just remember feeling angry at him and at my self for being that stupid.

One more thing... during that exchange of SMSes the bastard even had the gall to ask for my photo. Someone please help me make sense of this request coz until now that is still the biggest conundrum of the whole affair.

So I sent him this picture...

Meowwww...

I could not remember anymore exactly how I recovered. What I'm certain about is that it took me nearly nine months to get over a three-month long-distance relationship. Gosh, if that sounds pathetic, it truly was.

It helped that I eventually moved back to Davao after seven months of being jobless. I felt that I was defeated big time on all fronts. Thankfully, my former organization took me back and that's how I lived in Davao for another three years.

In 2004, W1 found me on Friendster and he sent me a crappy message that he had been "looking around" for me "all over the place" for quite some time now. The bayot rolls his eyes.

The W1 Chronicles: Textmate

A few days ago a couple of friends and I were talking about the first time we fell in love. Both of them had a lot of things to say about their first foray into that thing that drives most of us a tad nuts.

Remarkably, they confessed to have indeed went mad in their first relationships (and I shall not go into the details of that coz I assume they read this blog).

I tried my best to ask as many questions about their "cases", hoping that they'd exhaust themselves answering my queries and that I'd successfully dodge being asked about my case as well, which was how the conversation exactly turned out: an interrogation I manipulated.

Thinking about my first relationship still makes me cringe, albeit with a streak of amusement rather than of bitterness. Well OK, I'm still embarrassed about it, hence I avoid any chance of discussing its details.

I knew I went freaking crazy then and if anything it says about my high propensity to be quite stupid when in love.

Well, I have the best excuse for being rash... I was young then. Basta, the story of my first love is full of embarrassing, juvenile whimsy, which we have the right to at least once in our life.

Tse!

Thinking about it last night, I said punyeta if I'm going to go through with this tale in my head again I might as well post it on the blog para naman maaliw ang publique ko. For the sake of shared amusement ba. And we all know how much steam this blog lacks, di ba?

Hay, intricately going through such an excuse is taking up so much space ha, might as well move on to the story... keri?

I was twenty-one then, fresh from the university and so I was just hanging out and jobless in Surigao. His mobile number was given to me by a friend whom he was chatting with on MIRC (gosh, does anyone still use this at all? Shows how ooooold I really am, no?).

Itago natin sya sa pangalang W1. He was based in Cebu and was an architecture student then.

Anyway, this is the classic tale of a textmate (the bayot cringes here). We were just texting galore for a few months until I moved to Davao to work. We occasionally met in MIRC as well. So basically, that's how we maintained the friendship for months.

I could not exactly remember how and why we became "intimate" with our SMSes and chatting. Perhaps we were both bored, but sometime in December 2001 we agreed that we become lovers (again, I cringe here).

Lord, that was my first time to fall in love, I swear.

Basta, just thinking of him took my breath away and it was kilig all over the place for me. It does not help that he was really, really sweet (whatever that means) so tuluyan nang nahulog na ang loob ng bakla, di ba?

Beyond any logic, I fell in love with someone whom I have not met yet; but despite that I felt that the relationship was real.

I jumped into my idea of how I should act as someone who is committed to a person he loves. I did not date anyone and I showed him that I really cared.

Two months into the relationship I had the chance to travel to Cebu with my family.

We met in... what's that mall? Uhmmm... Glorietta Cebu at Bo's Coffee Shop, to be precise. Having seen his picture before, I still could not help being swooned by his gorgeous Chinese looks. He had this exquisitely androgynous face and a naughty smile. He was a lot shorter than I am but he had the smoothest skin and delicate eyes.

I remember him sitting under some sort of accent lighting in the dim coffeshop. In my eyes he practically glowed. My most memorable image was of him gently licking his full lips after taking a sip from his coffee cup.

It was extremely surreal to be in his company. For months I was loving someone who just existed in my head and our proximity that evening made everything that I felt for him absolute.

After a couple of hours of awkward chikahan, we took a cab to a motel. Sogo: somewhere near the University of San Carlos. Classic, di ba?

Gosh, I know I'm a slut. Oh, a virgin slut at that. While in that cab I remember thinking to my self: "Dios mio, ma-devirginize ka na nga sa motel pa." How romantic, no?

Anyway, I'd skip the details of that night in a motel room with red lighting. Basta, it went surprisingly well, thanks to the dozens and dozens of gay porn I watched, proving the education value of Belami, Randy Blue, Sean Cody, and their ilk. But that will be another post. ;-)

The next day, my family and I went back to Surigao. While on the overnight boat, his scent still lingered in my memory.

That was the first and last time I'd see W1.

To be continued...

Itutuloy...

Black Songkran

I'm alive, bitches. No, I wasn't caught in the crossfire between the military and the red shirts. Gosh, that would've made a more exciting story, chai mai?

But really, we just lost our internet connection for five days. Nothing serious about it.

I know this update is really late. By now we all know that the melee in Bangkok in the past few days reached a relatively peaceful conclusion... at least for now, no?

Anyway, I took some pictures of the red-shirt protesters in front of Siam Paragon last Sunday. It was just another ordinary afternoon, few people were milling around Siam coz Songkran Festival was starting the next day.

I was watching a film in Lido and when I came out I stumbled into a couple of tanks in the middle of Rama 1 Road. On top of the tanks were the red-shirt protesters, waving flags and cheering. Later on I heard that the military left the tanks when it appeared that the reds were going to overpower them.

Curious onlookers were jamming the walkway between Siam Paragon and Central World. Many were taking pictures, and, more than anything, I could sense only fascination among the crowd.

Normally people would be fazed by the sight of tanks in the middle of the city, especially when an angry mob is surrounding them. But no, the people were mostly just taking it in stride and instead took pictures of the protesters like the latter were celebrities or something.

The next day, the chaos in Bangkok reached its peak. Dozens and dozens of buses were blocking the thoroughfares in many areas of the city. The epicenter of the road blocks was the Government House, two streets from where I live.

Because the clashes between the police and the mob had escalated later in the day, the Songkran festivities in nearby Khao San Road were cut short.

Later in the afternoon, from the top of the building where I live, we saw black smoke billowing around the area of the Government House. Apparently, the mob torched many of the buses that were used to block the road, mainly to drive away the riot police and the military. The smell of burning rubber wafted in the air. We could also hear faint explosions.

It definitely looked like doomsday, something that we can only see in Hollywood movies for instance.

While all this was happening, we could hear loud music from the neighbors. They were engrossed in their Songkran celebrations, oblivious to the chaos just nearby. Kids shrieked as they splashed water on each other and on passersby. Men sat around tables brimming with whiskey bottles.

The next day, the red-shirts decided to stop the rioting, leave the protest site, and go back home. Just like that.

The malls reopened shortly thereafter.

Yesterday, the last day of Songrkan, people made up for lost time. I heard that the revelry in Khao San and Silom went full blast and extended all the way to three in the morning today. Oh, today and tomorrow were declared as holidays for government employees, that makes a total of ten days without work for some people.

Hay, I'm sooooooo relieved this is over. Or maybe not. Let's see what happens in the next few days. But for now, Bangkokians are just happy to reclaim its city.

Whining in Phuket

I wonder why I bothered to make that trip to Phuket last week. But I have to do my duties as my office's representative to the Miss Chenelyn Boom-Boom 2009, a decision that shocked me to bits.

When I went on a very quick visit to Phuket in March of last year with Bubbles, Phuket did not really leave me a good impression at all. It's way too over-commercialized for my plebeian taste. It is just charmless, to say the least.

The pageant was held in the Laguna Phuket. I had a retinue of three people from the office: one hairstylist slash make-up artist, one stylist, and my Singaporean maid. I had to put them into one suite each coz that's all I can afford.

When I entered into my own suite, I immediately wanted to fly back to BangCock. The room was ginormous, far from the tiny slum shack I grew up in. I instantly fell sooooo empty. With all that space, some company would have been much appreciated. So it's true, the life of a top beauty queen is oftentimes lonely.

Ewwww, I hated that Laguna Phuket place. It was all fake, fake, fake. It was secluded from everything: foodshops, entertainment venues, shopping centers, and so on. It's just a world on its own of massive concrete resorts that wind around lagoons (maybe fake ones anyway).

The resort we were at had like five swimming pools where most tourists probably stay the entire day. So much for going to the BEACH. So much for seeing the actual Phuket, for chrissaskes. I would not be surprised if their entire Phuket experience is all about those damn pools and the comfort of their suites.

Gosh, we all know those resorts are freaking expensive, but they just lack character.

Anyway, back to the Miss Chenelyn Boom-Boom 2009 peageant. I met the other contestants from the various parts of Southeast Asia and we immediately had the Q&A portion. I gave a very concise but witty answer that I'm sure left the other cunts dumbfounded.

"I'm not nerbous... my pamily is... my pamily are... hehaw, hehaw, hehaw...", right Janina?

That same night was the parade of nations slash evening gown competition, in which I outwerqed them bitches. Dahling, I was in my resplendent Barong Tagalog from... drumroll please... Landmark in Makati City, Las Islas Filipinas, La Third World (thanks Charina Chucubelles!).

Needless to say, I won the crown. Oh, everyone predicted that, no? Wave, wave, kiss, kiss.

The evening ended with a long, two-minute firework display... or was that kwitis and watusi? Anyway, it certainly sounded like fireworks to me, bitches.

The next day, the other contestants (a.k.a. Thank You Girls) and the Queen of all Queens (a.k.a. Moi) had a tour of Phang Nga Bay to see the over-rated James Bond Island (which I have also visited last year with Bubbles).

It was an hour's bus ride from Phuket and then we boarded a long-tail boat that brought us deep into mangrove forests surrounded by tall karst cliffs. Yawn...

Finally, we reached James Bond Island, which looked tired from all the undeserved attention it was getting. For the love of God, it was just a rock sticking out in the middle of murky water, what's the freaking big deal? Give it a rest!

We then headed to Koh Panyee, that small Muslim Village where most tourists have lunch. Yawn...

In the evening, we all went to the despicable Phuket Fantasea, which I have also seen last year, to my dismay. To my dear publique, if you are cursed of ever going to Phuket one day, please avoid Phuket Fantasea at all cost. The show is magnificent in technical terms but it is just uninspired and is devoid of any context.

Finally, after a long day of doing my duties, it was time to take the crown off my head for the evening. That crown is damn heavy ha, thanks to Tambunting. And then I had to fold the long gowns, dry the swimsuits, place my fifteen pairs of shoes in boxes... oh, my Singaporean maid was doing that for me pala.

I woke up pretty early the next day anticipating my flight back to BangCock. I said goodbye to Phuket and prayed silently that I shall never be back there ever again.

Mi Hermana Visits Bangkok

As I noted in a few posts below, my ate dropped by BangCock for a visit. She and I have not seen each other since I left Las Islas Filipinas nearly two years ago.

Along with her are four amigas from Davao, where I also lived for four years after university. Her friends are my friends too so it was a reunion of sorts.

What is there to do for me but to be their tourist guide for the umpteenth time (calling Tourism Authority of Thailand!!!).

We had to cover the basics like the Grand Palace, Reclining Buddha, and since it was a weekend they definitely had to drop by Chatuchak. And oh, they watched the pingpong show (ugh), which I refused to see with them.

My sister spent around three nights in BangCock but I only had one whole day with her coz I had to leave for Phuket last Sunday (which I shall write about in the next post). She and I hardly had enough time to talk about the more interesting bits of our lives (but really we YM way too often that we don't need so much time to exchange chismis).

From Bangkok, the gang visited Koh Samet for a day and then proceeded to Siem Reap, which shall be followed by a stopover in Phnom Penh and then Ho Chi Min City.

See you soon in BangCock, bitches.

The Reds Drop By

Oh la la, I just arrived in sweltering BangCock after having been crowned Miss Chenelyn Boom-Boom 2009 in Phuket earlier this week.

And who do I find welcoming me right at my doorstep but swarms and swarms of them lovely people in red shirts.

Gosh, I could not be more flattered than this. I have never, and I mean never, before been welcomed in such epic proportions.

But no. Apparently those lovely folks, who put on a standstill blocks and blocks of the area surrounding my building, are not here for my homecoming.

The red mob, as what these supremely passionate people are called, are here for a humongous political demonstration - or whatever you call these events.

This is part of the continuing saga of political rifts happening in Thailand for years now. If you remember, our spotless Suvarnabhumi Airport was occupied by the rival yellow mob last November, which I wrote about here and here.

Now it's the turn of the opposing red mob, who for the past weeks have camped in front of the Government House. Yes, that's the same building that the yellow mob invaded for a number of months last year.

But aside from the Government House, the red mob also moved to our area this morning to voice out their concerns to one of my neighbors, a rather long-standing and prominent figure in Thai politics. Reportedly there were thousands of them around.

I'd save you the details of the political circus in this country, ok? What do I know of it anyway? I recommend you check the BBC instead.

The point is, this afternoon I walked in the midst of the crowd on my way from the airport. The tuk-tuk could not bring me right into my soi (alley) as the streets had been blocked. When I reached the canal I had to carry my luggage all the way to my soi. Imagine!

What else is there to do but take pictures, chai mai?

Thank God them red shirts have not turned violent yet and I certainly hope they stay that way. Instead, I found some makeshift stage with a man spewing what sounded like political attacks and the crowd sitting on the ground would regularly cheer using their clappers in the shape of a foot.

Gosh, how do I explain the uniqueness of Thai protests?

The rest of the crowd looked exhausted, perhaps from too much shouting, but most probably from the oppressive summer heat. They honestly look bored sitting on mats they laid in the middle of the pavement. Many were even taking their afternoon siesta or munching on some snacks, totally oblivious of the political speeches broadcast from large speakers.

A large crowed were in my soi but the highest concentration of protesters were in front of my controversial neighbor, not less than 150 meters from my building.

As I type this tonight, I could still faintly hear the speeches and shouting of the protesters. I wonder if they'd leave tomorrow or perhaps at least for the Songkran Festival, the Buddhist New Year.

They have disrupted our lives for so long na ha. Hay, this is not funny anymore, I swear.