A note to my 21-year-old self

Oh no, the last day of 2011. What a year for me! But I'm not going to look back on it in this post. I'd rather go back ten years ago when I was 21.

I've always thought of writing a "note to my XX-year-old self", so I chose to write to my 21-year-old self because 2001 was a pivotal year for me. For one, I graduated from university, hence, I entered the world of being a real adult. And most importantly, I lost my virginity when I was 21. Okay, okay, I'm a fucking late bloomer. Charot!

So what will I tell my 21-year-old self?

On life in general, I'd say: "Gurrrl, life is not always fair. Most of the time, in fact, life is just damn unfair. The sooner you accept that, the more at peace you'd be with life." Harsh, but true, chai mai?

On your goals: Keep them high, but also make the most of surprising opportunities. Don't be afraid to tweak your goals along the way; it's not a sign of failure, but it only means you can adapt.

On knowledge: Be hungry to learn new things. Read. Most of the time there's no practical reason for knowing these things except to exercise your mind, a worthy goal in itself. Travel. It costs a lot but you'd have a lifetime of memories.

On your skills: You'll never be a good singer. Focus on what you do well and keep on honing it because you can always be better. Also, learn new skills that you can be good at. But, again, you cannot sing.

On success: Don't feel entitled to success. You have to earn it. Work your ass off. You may not always have the results you want, but be proud of your efforts nonetheless, and be humble about your achievements.

On other people: Respect them all the time and they'd respect you back. Three words: empathize, empathize, empathize. Be mindful that everyone has a story.

On family: Continue loving them with all your might. Your parents are as human as you are, so be generous in affirming them you love them.

On friends: They come and go, most of them at least. But nurture the few ones who you feel would accept you in spite of you. You'd be lucky with your friends. They're all amazing and generous. You'd have them for life.

On men: All men think with their dicks. There are many nice, decent, loving ones, of course, but ultimately they are all driven by their cocks. Don't take it personally; it's just how nature programmed them, including yourself.

On sex: This will be your year, gurl. Just don't expect too much. There will be NO fireworks. With the right person though it can be quite special.

On beauty: Enjoy that18-inch waistline. It will stay for only another two years, and then it all goes downhill from there.

In conclusion: Be fearless. Take risks. Keep on learning. Enjoy your youth. Love your family. Treasure your friends. Life would be very kind to you. And, bitch, 31 is not as old as you think.

Good Morning Hanoi!

Ugh. This trip started so horribly. As I did not decide to check in my luggage, my Cetaphil and body wash were confiscated at the airport. Is it my fault if I bring a liter of Cetahphil? And apparently, any liquid that's more than 100 ml is not allowed for carry-on bags. Fine, I'm tanga. I did not not know that the no-liquid rule still applies until now noh! Pout.

To top it all, I realized that I left my camera battery charger at home. What can be worse than that?! Arrrrgh!!! I doubt if my battery would last for two weeks, so it's major camwhoring restraint for me. Pout even more.

I changed $150 dollars when arrived at the Hanoi the airport and I was given back more than 2 million doung. Now I can truly consider my self a millionaire!

It was raining when I arrived in Hanoi. My balls shrank because of the cold.

My guest house is located in this charming and relatively quiet street a few blocks north of Ho Kiem Lake, the main tourist area. A winding set of stairs lead to my $8-a-night room on the fifth floor room, which is large enough for three people.

Last night I walked around the vibrant and tree-lined streets of the Old Quarter, with a light drizzle making the evening colder. Hundreds of motorbikes swerve like crazy in the narrow streets of Hanoi. While there are ample sidewalks, motorbikes are parked on them, giving no choice to the pedestrian but to walk on the street while continuously in danger of being swept by a speeding motorbike.

Today the rain stopped but the cold remains and the sky is cloudy the entire day (hello SPF 50?). Just like any decent tourist, I had to pay my respects to Uncle Ho who rests in a massive marble mausoleum. Ho Chi Minh's body is encased in a glass coffin that hundreds of people line up to marvel at. I hardly paid any attention to the corpse at all coz those hot guards were more captivating.

I also stopped by the Army Museum. Spread around the complex are a number of fighter planes, helicopters, and tanks that were captured by the Vietnamese Army during the Vietnam War. Displayed inside the museum are war memorabilia such as photographs, water canisters, helmets, spikes, cars, flags, uniforms, and of course war weapons that were used by the Vietnamese during the resistance movements against the French and the Americans. It was really depressing to take a glimpse of these violent, but pivotal, periods of Vietnamese history. However, you have to give it to the Vietnamese who used ingenuity and persistence in winning the wars against two very powerful countries.

My next stop was the Fine Arts Museum (this was pretty much the highlight of my day), covering samples of work from the pre-historic to the contemporary periods. I was totally awed by the diversity of the styles used in Vietnamese art. One section showcases paintings using lacquer. The colors just pop out and the lines are more solid. In another section, paintings done on silk are softer and the colors are muted. Lovely contrasts!

Most paintings depict the daily lives of the peasants and some subjects are related to war. I especially love the portraits of women. If anything, Vietnamese painters really know how to do fierce! Judging from the rich variety of styles used by painters in the past, their legacy of art in Vietnam continues, making the country one of Asia's art powerhouses. Oh, any art lover would die at the vibrancy of Hanoi's art galleries that are scattered all over the city.

Shortly after lunch, I stopped at the Temple of Literature, probably Hanoi's premiere pagoda.

After sitting in one of the Old Quarter's many coffee shops to ogle at people, I watched Hanoi's famed water puppet theater. There are like six shows a day and they're all packed. Some tourists have to book days in advance to catch a show and today I was just lucky. What do I have to say about the deft puppetry done on water (obviously)? I was smiling the whole time!

I allowed my self to get lost in the twisted streets of the Old Quarter on my way back to the hotel. Daytime traffic is crazy thanks to the motorbike drivers who use the motorbikes' handles (is that what you call them?) and horns to drive. The noise made the experience much exciting though as I walked past markets, coffee shops, and old, narrow buildings. OMG, I'm crazy over them old buildings. It's also charming how people love to sit on low stools outside their houses while eating nuts and noodles and gossiping (or at least that's what I think they're talking about).

I have to sleep early tonight as I'm leaving early for Halong Bay tomorrow.

Flip Flops

Some notes on the weekend.

Friday night. These bastards! They can't keep a commitment no? Maybe I expected too much from people. Hey, as I said I'm still learning the rules of this bloody and ruthless game of dating and yeah, I learned one big lesson last Friday. And that is, I CAN HAVE FUN ALONE! (Does anybody notice the bitterness?) So I went to this Silom bar on my own, watched the drag show, and tried parading around the bar like I fucking owned it. I was utterly frustrated. Too many gorgeous but intimidating men! On my second glass of vodka I saw my not-so-favorite officemate in the crowd. This prompted me to make a quick dash out of the bar. It was only 12:30 am for crying out loud! So I asked the cab driver to bring me to S, which is a gay bar popular with the locals. There I found the place full of enchanting Thai gay men gobbling bottles of whiskey. Not surprisingly, the bar only serves whiskey and beer. The music is horrendous, but who cares if drool-worthy, skinny go-go boys are gyrating on several ledges. In no time I brazenly joined the table of a group of friends. Ok, let's end the story there.

Saturday night. A gay Filipino friend - who I shall refer to as J - wanted to see Khao San Road on a Saturday evening. As the self-proclaimed Queen of Khao San, I volunteered to show him around. We ended up having some beer and watching the crowd in that chaotic part of BKK. I decided of course to wear just flip flops to blend in with the back-packers that dominate the area. Anyway, I told J about my exciting visit to S the previous night. S is just a couple of blocks from Khao San. The fag wanted us to go there. Can you imagine me going inside a gay bar in my flip flops? As in tsinelas that I bought for 59 baht! But guess what, that's what I actually did. I swear, I could've died right there. But who cares, we were already inside, the boys were tempting, and everybody was drunk. I called on all the saints that nobody would ridicule me and my tsinelas. I ended up gorging four large bottles of Singha, the local beer, to help me forget of my crude appearance. Again, J and I joined the table of some Thai men and started having fun with some catchy Thai pop songs blasting from the speakers.

Sunday. All my plans of going back to Chinatown and doing my grocery shopping were ditched coz I had one of the most atrocious hang over in recent memory. Ugh.

How I Lost 40 kgs at the NAIA

As mentioned in a previous post, I saw my “properties” reduced to two luggages and a couple of bags for my next attempt with relocation. On the night of my trip, I hauled the enormous luggage from our fourth floor apartment and stuffed in a cab that brought me to NAIA. After weighing the stuff, the check-in counter lady informed me that I had an excess baggage of 40 kgs.

With a per kilogram rate of P300, I was supposed to pay a whopping P18,000. At this point I heard the loud crash of my chiseled jaw line fall to the floor. It’s an amount that could easily buy me about two round-trip tickets to Bangkok.

I shifted to panic mode.

Luckily we live just about 20 minutes from the airport so I messaged my sister to pick up some of my stuff. While waiting for her outside the departure area, I asked a cleaning lady at the airport if she would be willing to take some of my clothes and other things. She easily said yes, so I unzipped the bag that contained my shoes, pulled out my leather shoes and gave her the entire bag and all its contents.

Next I opened the luggage containing my jeans and trousers. I pulled out all the pants that I could use at the office and a couple of jeans and some shorts. The rest… went to the (lucky) cleaning lady. The same happened to the next bag that had my shirts. Mostly everything just had to go.

Obviously it was an embarrassing spectacle. Imagine witnessing a skinny bayot poring over an open suitcase at the airport, pulling everything out – especially my undies and porn mags.

Shortly my sister arrived. I left her my CDs and books. It broke my heart to see those go because I actually planned three weeks ahead which novels and CDs to bring. My thick yoga books had to be snatched from me by my sister as well. It was a very difficult choice between having clothes on my back and having something to read or listen to.

Did I mention I brought my gym ball? Of course I deflated it. But giving it away really broke my heart. And it was not the most outrageous stuff I tried packing, but I’m not mentioning that here.

All my shirts and some shorts were dirt cheap, thank god; it was not that hard to let them go from the cost perspective. However, those were still unique pieces, especially the floral shirts and those frayed T-shirts that I took pains at maintaining looking old and scruffy. Some of my shirts were from my high school and college days, with such sentimental value for me. I even gave out my suit, three jackets, some jogging pants, neck ties, scarves (oh no, my dear scarves), coloring books, and some fabrics I bought from my travels.

I did the process of disposing my stuff almost blindly. I nearly gave the cleaning lady my diary of two years (oh, all those sordid account of my love life going to the lady is beyond me!). Luckily my sister pulled it out from the pile of clothing and she has the diary now.

After shoving in one suitcase what I think was all I need for my relocation I went back to the check in counter where I was informed that my stuff totaled exactly 20 kgs. No excess baggage at all. And I was down to my essentials (including my body wash and yoga mat).

So Zen, no? Very Buddhist… letting go of material stuff and all. Very appropriate for a trip to a land that is predominantly Buddhist. Besides, with practically nothing to wear in Bangkok, I have more than enough reason to shop here!

P.S. Just to defend my self from being tagged as TANGA, I did call the Cebu Pacific customer service several times last week to ask about their charge for excess baggage. But their number was constantly busy.