Travel Junkie Manila

travel tip: we don't say hello.

2012-01-16T13:48:00.004+08:00

“We don’t really say hello,” I’d answer when asked how to say that seemingly universal greeting in Filipino. “We nod or we smile. There is no direct translation. What we do, instead, is ask how you are. Kamusta ka?” After giving this explanation, most would be left a bit puzzled.

In an American colonial history book I’ve read a few years back, the same thing was observed by a certain American soldier when asked about Filipinos back at the turn of the 20th century. He said something akin to “When I pass by them on the street, Filipinos just smile. They don’t say anything.”

So, what does this mean exactly?

A part of me thinks the reason why we never developed a word for hello is due to centuries of colonization. Fear of what these bigger, taller, and better-armed white men could do led us to believe that it was better to be quiet until spoken to. By simply nodding or smiling, we got to acknowledge their and each other’s presence without being seen as aggressive. (or to exaggerate a bit – potentially subversive.)

But that’s hundreds of years ago, so why haven’t we come up with a word for it now?

A couple of reasons come to mind:
    1. Being “aggressive” is still frowned upon.
    2. To save face. It’s a bit embarrassing to greet someone and not illicit a response.
    3. We rather go American and say, “hi”. (Okay, so maybe I’m pushing it with this one.)

A friend had an insight to this and I paraphrase him, “You’re more sincere then. It’s a sign that you really want to talk. In the states, someone would ask you how you are and then when you’re about answer him, he’ll be turning away.”

I find his view particularly nice, sweet, and quite true.

a typical exchange between friends

translation:
A: How are you?
B: I'm good. And you? How are you?
A: I'm good, too.

we are FUN.

2012-01-10T06:11:00.000+08:00

“I am very excited about it.” I paraphrase the President when he mentioned, in one of his year-end interviews, the Department of Tourism's then upcoming campaign.

If the President announced that he’s pretty excited about it, the entire nation could expect nothing less than brilliance, right? After all, he probably picked out the best and the brightest in the field and placed him at the helm of this colossal campaign.

I remember we were crawling along Nagtahan bridge on the way to Quiapo (on a Friday morning) when the DOT declared its new tourism campaign. “It’s more fun in the Philippines” is the new tagline by which they’d be building and selling the Philippine brand in the global tourism market.

That’s it?!, I couldn’t help but think. Sure, it’s a good line but doesn't it lacked the ooomph? I imagined how they are going to play it, very much like the WOW Philppines campaign in the 90s. The DOT would put a spin on our natural wonders – Banawe Rice Terraces = Stairs and Mt. Pinatubo crater lake = bathtub. The running ticker in my head was, “Hey. We’ve heard of this before.”

It also didn’t help that just outside the car window, there were the filth, the dirty Pasig river, and what seemed to be a virtual parking lot on a bridge. Yeah, it’s definitely more fun in this country.

But as Friday progressed, the cleverness of the campaign started to show. The new tagline is so simple that just about anyone, any Filipino, could work with it and own it. The creatives in the country seemed to have such a ball that within hours, memes kept on popping up on the web. In three days, their works have gone viral. Twenty-five of which has been compiled on the site, the buzzfeed.

Since I cannot think of a better tagline, I might as well join in. And besides, this whole thing is turning out to be so much fun.

here are three of my favorites:

mountain climbing

source: http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxf3x86mCd1qjq79zo9_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1326233395&Signature=qRieBTWlxP%2FTjo869qFc7x%2F6liM%3D

balut

source: carlo vergara's fb page

midget basketball

source: d3j5vwomefv46c.cloudfront.net

snapshot of the day: manila riverside view

2012-01-05T12:30:00.001+08:00

happy happy new year!

this one certainly started out well with a trip to the capital. the weather wasn't exactly perfect but the rain made for a cool albeit sticky and muddy tour of the city.

downtown manila from across the river at fort santiago.

my top 11 travel experiences of 2011

2011-12-31T12:00:00.000+08:00

Before we ring in the new one, allow me to take a look back at what was a notable year.

My feet took me to several new places this year where I met a lot of wonderful interesting people along the way. I remember the Irish man who held my hand when I was terrified to set foot on the glass platform of the Pudong Tower; the Swede couple whom we introduced to the delights of Jollibee in Legaspi; and the charming little French girl who entertained the entire cabin duing a 15-hour train ride from Paris to Rome - to name a few. And of course, how could I possibly not mention the warm friendly people I got to know in Spain?

It wasn't easy but I've managed to round up the high points of what was a great travel year.

1. Experienced winter, even if it was the tail end.

that's not make-up. that's the effect of the biting cold!

it was freezing but we still managed to smile.

i just had to touch snow, even if it was dirty.

2. Climbed the Great Wall of China!

going east asian

the iconic great wall

it seems that i had the wimpiest camera in this lot.

3. Set foot on Mindanao soil. Finally!

even on a sunday, people still hung out at the city hall.

here's a glitzy depiction of the (in)famous durian.

just in case i forget where exactly i am at.

4. Got on the zipline at Camp Sabros in Davao del Sur.

practically flying over the trees!

5. Swam with the Butandings [whale sharks] in Donsol.

a butanding swimming beneath us. grabbed from raffy vicente's fb page

the intrepid raffy vicente pretty ecstatic. grabbed from his fb page

6. Flew Qatar Airways! The dream was and still is to fly Singpore Airlines. But Qatar Airways happens to be 2011 Airline of the Year. How could I possibly complain?

waiting for our connecting flight to madrid at the doha international airport.

city of doha but only a sliver on the horizon.

7. Explored the streets of regal Madrid while participating in WYD and Mag+s.

beautiful madrid architecture bathed in afternoon sunlight.

hamming it up with the girls at plaza de oriente.

the pope on the jumbotron at plaza de la independencia.

8. Became infatuated with Gaudi's beloved city.

the sight of the sagrada familia evidently staggered us.

lovely curves of the head-turning La Pedrera

9. Gawked at the Eiffel Tower.

six of the 72 frenchies recognized for their contributions to society.

can't leave paris without a photo at the eiffel tower!

10. Breathed in ancient roman history at the colosseo.

early morning at the colosseo = NO TOURISTS!

the dungeons

photo taken by a handsome english man on holiday with his japanese wife and their two very good-looking half-breed children

11. Frolicked in the Mediterranean Sea.

summer lovin'!

Here's to a SUPERB 2011!
Happy New Year, Everyone!

rizal in madrid

2011-12-30T00:26:00.001+08:00

In celebration of Rizal Day, here are two snapshots of the Rizal Monument in Madrid. (Because we are not only commemorating his execution but also celebrating his life and works on this day, right?) If you've noticed, it is very similar to the one standing in Luneta. In addition, the Spaniards also erected plaques of his poem Mi Ultimo Adios in Spanish and Filipino.

It may be a bit surreal seeing a statue of our national hero in the Mother Country. But hey, we were a colony and Rizal did study at Universidad Central de Madrid. (Click here for an actual timeline of Dr. Jose Rizal's stay in the Spanish Capital.)

If you're in the Madrid, do try to visit this particular Rizal Monument. It's really quite easy.
Take the metro and alight at estación de Islas Filipinas.

Happy Rizal Day!

Yep, that's rizal. but he's not in luneta.

he's in madrid!

Photos by Marion Aunor

morning after christmas

2011-12-26T15:51:00.001+08:00

It’s Monday but based on the traffic along our motorways, it certainly doesn’t look like it. I had to head south this morning after christmas to meet with a client. But what should’ve been a tortuous crawl from C-5 to Alabang turned out to be such a delight.

a rare sight: a relatively light traffic along south expressway

The traffic was so light that it only took me thirty minutes to get from our house in Pasig to Alabang. I had to drive all the way to the south for work but it felt like I was just cruising on a typical Sunday morning.

what was "heavy" traffic this morning

snapshot of the day: O Come Emmanuel

2011-12-24T02:29:00.001+08:00

At the Church of the Gesu inside the Ateneo de Manila University campus, the Nativity scene has been like this for the past nine nights.

are you ready to receive Him?

snapshot of the day: christmas rush

2011-12-21T13:04:00.000+08:00

Taking a break from all that posts about Spain since Christmas is just a few days away!
Are you done with your last-minute holiday shopping?

christmas rush at the araneta center

top ten sights around old Madrid [Los Asturias, Sol, & Centro]

2011-12-19T15:49:00.001+08:00

Actually these are MY top ten sights around old Madrid – areas of Los Asturias, Sol, and Centro. If you only have a very limited time to see the Spanish capital (boo hoo!), do try to see these ten. They’re all so close to each other that you can go by foot and be done in two to three hours.

1. Plaza de Oriente

The plaza is really an arc of greenery between the Palacio Real and the Teatro Real. When the sun gets a bit too hot, go ahead and dip your toes into the fountain. Some of the tourists do. Not so sure about the locals, though.

In the center stands the statue of King Felipe IV on a horse and on his right is the Teatro Real, Madrid's Opera House

Some of the 20 marble statues of mostly ancient monarchs that stand in the periphery of the plaza.

2. Palacio Real

The Palacio has been the seat of the Spanish royal (not to mention, imperial) power for the last couple of centuries. When you purchase a ticket, you get to see 50 of its 2800 rooms. But don’t strain your neck hoping to get a glimpse of the present king. King Juan Carlos I doesn’t live there, he preferred to live in a more modest abode.

The facade of Palacio Real drenched in afternoon sunlight.

3. Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Almudena

In true Hispanic fashion, the church (in this case Madrid’s cathedral) stands right across the political seat of power. Some say that it lacks the grandiose of other European churches but the Almudena’s interesting pop art-ish ceiling should make up for that.

The Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Almudena from across the Palacio Real

Look up. it's quite colorful!

The stellar ceiling of the cathedral is really pretty.

4. Plaza de Villa

A slight climb from the cathedral or a few steps beyond Plaza Mayor is Plaza de Villa [town square]. The three buildings - Torre de los Lujanes, Casa de Cisneros, and Casa de la Villa are some of the finest examples of Madrid baroque architecture. When I was there, all I could say to myself was Am I still in Madrid? Being at that plaza, it sure didn’t feel like it.

(from left) A bit of Torre de los Lujanes, Casa de Cisneros, and Casa de la Villa

5. Plaza Mayor

Madrid’s Plaza Mayor is considered to be one of Spain’s grandest and most beautiful plazas. Well, why wouldn’t it be? In contrast to Plaza de Villa, there is a certain uniformity amongst the buildings that make up Plaza Mayor's four sides. While you’re there, enjoy a cup of coffee and admire the frescoes on the north side. It's actually relatively new; painted by artist Carlos Franco in 1992.

On the horse is King Felipe III, the one who ordered the construction of the plaza

The plaza features uniformly ochre apartments.

6. Plaza de la Puerta del Sol
The Gate of the Sun is the official center point (or point zero) of Spain. Stand right in the center and it would feel like the whole of Madrid is rushing past. The plaza radiates to several streets where shops like Zara, H&M , Mango and Department Store El Corte Inglés stand.

Casa de Correos at Sol. right outside is a plaque that marks the spot as Spain's kilometre zero.

Sol's ultra-sleek modern metro station; stark contrast to the old surrounding architecture.

7. Iglesia de San Gines

This church along Calle del Arenal, one of the pedestrianized streets radiating from Puerta del Sol, is one of the longest-standing relics of Christian Madrid. But unlike its “younger” cousins, this church doesn’t have much windows taking advantage of the abundant sunlight. (or I just didn’t notice any.)

A mass being celebrated at the main altar of the church

8. Chocolateria San Gines

Just behind the church is this bar-café famous for its churros y chocolate. Sit down and enjoy some.

The churros y chocolate here are said to be the ideal Madrid hangover cure.

9. Gran Via

This “Great Road” features fine examples of early 20^th century architecture, most of which houses stores that would get any shopaholic’s heart racing. By the way, I fell in love with Lefties (i.e. leftovers), a discount outlet for Zara and other shops belonging to the same group.

Sunset along the grand via with Katsy.

A rare sight: a traffic-free gran via

The topmost part of Edificio Telefónica.

The apartment building right across mcdonald's. (sorry. i don't know it's name.)

10. Plaza de España

Located at the end of Grand Via, Plaza de España is one of Madrid’s largest and most popular squares. Look up and you’ll find yourself gazing at two of the city’s famous structures - the Edificio de España and the Torre de Madrid.

The Edificio de España (behind) lords over the monument to Miguel de Cervantes and his two creations - Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. photo from fotosdemadrid.es

ten things to do at torre dela horadada

2011-12-05T17:41:00.000+08:00

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Torre dela Horadada is the last coastal town in the Spanish province of Alicante and Costa Blanca South. It is a popular getaway for both families and tourists during the summer months. And if you find yourself along this part of the Mediterranean coast, here are a few things that you could do:

Here's Torre dela Horadada's namesake.

1. The beach is it!

It would be a sin to be in torre dela horadada and not enjoy the beach! Best time to be at the beach is between morning and lunch. (and that’s until 2:00 to you, missy.) Spaniard boy Nacho said it best and I paraphrase him, “If you go in the afternoon, it would be too hot. Because the sun goes down at 8:00pm. ” So I guess, that’s why you should heed what the Spanish custom suggests. Go and sleep away the heat during siesta.

Evidently, there are two ways to get a tan.

Teenagers give beach volleyball a go.

Beach time is also quality time for most families.

Lifeguard on duty.

2. Eat Churros for Breakfast.
So the Spanish also eat churros for breakfast? Well apparently, they do. (Not that I would know based on what was served on our table.) I clued in on this based on the opening hours – until 10 am, of the churros kiosk next to the church. So you want to have churros on the breakfast table, you have to wake up a wee bit earlier.

The guy behind the counter, busy preparing our churros.

3. Chill with a scoop of Helado.
With a regular scoop going from 3 to 5 euros, it’s not exactly cheap (around P180-300.) But with the heladerias just right off the plaza and along the boardwalk, would you have the will to say no?

One of the heladerias along the boardwalk.

Pretty Alexa with her scoop of helado.

4. Go fish!
It’s the Mediterranean Sea! How could you not? During our morning walk or noontime frolics, adults and kids alike take their fishing rods and nets to sea for some of its treasures.

Trying his luck amongst the waves.

A brit boy armed with his own net

5. People watch.
The plaza is actually a good place to start. Buy a drink, sit down at one of the tables, and watch the whole town – in summer wear, walk by.

An elderly couple watches the town pass by.

6. Go on a house tour as well!
The summer houses come in various sizes – stand-alone houses, duplexes, apartments, and styles. But no matter how they stand, they’re all proud to be Spanish. It must be because it was summer or that it was the JMJ, but the Spanish colors were flying high in that town.

This one, featuring greek colors, is a unique house on the block.

The apartment building overloooking the plaza.

A modern house along the boardwalk

7. Do some Water sports!
One of the things that really surprised me was the marina at torre dela horadada. Not that the boats were that impressive but it was, for me, totally unexpected! Residents bring their own jetskis, kayaks, and what not. Personally, I didn't look or ask for a rental. Maybe you could strike up a deal with one of the locals and hire a big toy for an hour or two.

Parked on the street like any vehicle.

8. Dance at the plaza during Fiesta night!
We were fortunate enough to be there during fiesta of torre dela horadada, which coincides with the feast of the assumption. That night, the band ‘El Pato’ (or ‘The Duck’) was playing to the crowd of young and old alike. People were dancing right in front of the stage. And it didn’t matter that I hardly understood a word, I just joined in on the fun. After which, we headed down to the beach for some night swimming.

Residents and tourists dance to the music of El Pato.

Maria dances with a young one.

Javi captivates Kasty with his moves.

9. Sleep on the beach.
Evidently, it’s not a crime to sleep on the beach at night. Bea, Javi, Mikel, and I were walking along the beach one morning when we spotted two boys lying on their stomachs. They obviously spent the previous night at the beach.

Revelers, most probably, asleep on the beach

10. Catch the sunrise
In the summer, the sun usually rises over the Mediterranean Sea at around 7:00 am. And on the night we were off to Madrid, I couldn’t sleep. So with nothing better to do, I climbed to the rooftop and waited for his majesty the sun to show his brilliant self.

Sunrise over the Mediterranean Sea.

art camp by the mediterranean sea (part 2)

2011-12-02T23:02:00.001+08:00

DAY FOUR: GRAFFITI
A Spanish-Japanese boy who was just slightly a bit taller than me stood next to Sr. Belen in the middle of the room. I wonder how we would carry on when he, our facilitator, could barely look at us. He vacillated between looking at the door or the floor. But apparently, he didn’t need to talk much since we’ll be having our noses buried into paper and will doodle away the afternoon.

sr. belen and our facilitator discussed before starting.

He asked us to think of our relationship with the Almighty. Where do you place your security and confidence? How is God your support and strength? And think of the symbol that depicts our answers.

alexa got down to business.

I went for the simple and drew a heart. It’s simple, straightforward, and doesn’t entail tricky drawing techniques that I clearly lack. After figuring out our own symbols, we broke into small groups and were asked to put together all of our doodles into one gigantic cartolina.

all four ladies proudly posed with their work of art.

my groupmates eagerly worked on our project.

While everyone were doodling and painting (and not just on the cartolinas), Padre Justo met an accident. He was joking around with us, dancing actually, when he suddenly slipped and fell to the floor. For several seconds, he was just there lying clearly in pain. He stood up clutching at his arm while speaking in Spanish. Within the next minutes, Eduardo and his wife Angeles, whisked him off to the hospital in Murcia. Everyone was shocked. And the graffiti poster projects were forgotten.

Padre Justo happily posed with me just a few minutes before the accident.

That evening, we attended mass at the local church with the rest of the community.

DAY FIVE: FILM
After our morning praise, Eduardo asked us to take photos that represent what relationships and friendships mean to us. We all had carte blanche and need not stick to the expected. In fact, he wanted us to let our queer flags fly free.

friendships are refreshing.

friendships are healing.

friends stick with us through thick and thin.

Thus after spending a good thirty minutes at the beach, I took off and went around town. I got a few weird stares and had a couple interrogate me as to what I was doing. I just took a shot of empty porch chairs and inquired if I could take a shot of their dogs. Apparently, there were a couple of burglaries within the last few days and they were a bit suspicious that I might be one of the thieves. Geez. Really? Honestly?! I said I was a tourist and just wanted a couple of photos.

we just had to take this photo while putting together our very short video on friendship.

DAY SIX: ROLE PLAY
Just after beach time, we were surprised to see the facilitators all dressed up in black with matching dark shades. They barred us from rinsing off the salt water or sand or dropping off our things in our rooms.

Sr. Belen played the role of the fate and handed out new identities. She handed to me a card that read that I was still a Filipina and was really poor. Apparently, I was still a member of the third world. We were ushered into the mess hall but not before we were frisked. (Much like what they do at SM supermalls and airports.)

every single one was frisked.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

The mess hall was divided into three corners – the first world, second world, and the third world. The first world table was well appointed and came with a good –looking waiter in the form of Eduardo. The second world table was covered with a cloth, and not much of anything really. The third world corner was just a mess of overturned chairs and litter.

here's the third world and its citizens.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

Each of us entered with a look of surprise and confusion. When the realization set in, that look would either change to one of elation or disappointment. About three people ate as a first-world citizen. Four people were seated at the second world table. While the rest of us – say about 17 of us, were crammed into our own chaotic corner.

It was lunchtime and everyone was hungry and thirsty. But no one was doing a damn thing about it. True to form, I started demanding for water. At the top of lungs, I screamed for water. I got whacked for doing so. Some joined me in my effort while the rest did nothing, too scared, I think, to do anything. When I became too loud for their ears, the guards hauled me out of the room. That left the rest of the third world citizens to do something about the world order.

Eventually, the exercise ended. We put the mess hall back in order and were served our real lunch. At the lunch table, I learned that nothing significant happened after I was hauled away. Neither the first world nor the second world citizens shared their food with the “poor and hungry.” Nor did the people from the third world tidy up their corner or demand that they be given food. They did share, though, amongst themselves their allocation of the world’s food - a potato and a glass of water.

art camp by the mediterranean sea (part 1)

2011-11-30T21:23:00.001+08:00

While some mag+smates were visiting the sick or hacking away at thorny vines to get to holy places, our group along the med were trying our hands at art. Sr. Belen and company invited a couple of people who served as facilitators of our daily workshops.

DAY ONE: MIME/ HUMOR
His name was Fito. He was tall, bald, and had an elongated face that could easily be scribbled into a cartoon. And he usually spends his days in hospitals trying his damnest to make sick kids laugh. And the first thing this professional clown asked us to do was to form a huge circle.

We were about to play something that could be described as “pass the action.” The game goes like this: The “It” must turn to the person next to him and do a gesture to her. Now the one who receives the action could pass it back again to the giver or to the person on her other side. But she needs to decide quickly!
Expectedly, everyone tried very hard to stay alert. Some succeeded in relaying the action perfectly, yet others, unfortunately, still fumbled. But the entire group reacted to each mistake with laughter and eagerness to carry on.

For the next activity, Fito asked us to blow up balloons of various colors and sizes. He then took out and unfurled a significant cut of blue tulle that some of us were told to hold on to. The rest had to scour or run after the ballons and place all of them on top of the net-like fabric.

When every balloon was caught, each of us took our place around the fabric and held on to it. Very slowly, we raised and tugged down our own edges thus making a wave-like motion. In effect, some balloons were suspended in the air while some were slowly falling. Fito then asked everyone to take turns in lying down underneath the tulle and looking up at the balloons.

fly high, our little balloons!
grabbed from ikay garchitorena's fb page

quite an unsual sight they must had.
grabbed from ikay garchitorena's fb page

You can get hold of Fito, the comic and professional clown, by visiting this site: http://www.espaciorisa.com/
He lives in Murcia, Spain.

DAY TWO: DANCE
She had the stride of Maribeth Bichara and the vibrancy of Patricia Fields when she entered the session hall. The woman had pulled back her curly hair with an orange huge headband, wore tight top and loose pants, and featured toned arms that could only mean frequent trips to the gym. Sr. Belen introduced her as the dancer who would try to teach this group to be light on their feet.

It was a traditional Lebanese dance she chose. She divided our group between the girls and the boys, whom she taught the corresponding steps. There were shuffling of feet, bends, and a lot of counting involved, as expected in any dance routine. The girls, who formed a bigger circle, danced against the boys to the tune akin to the one shown by Sheldon in episode 02, Season 04 of the he Big Bang Theory. (It was the dance he showed Leonard on the way to work.)

children, get ready to dance!

our manly men trying to learn how to dance.

And the graceful women , too!
grabbed from ikay garchitorena's fb page

girls and boys trying to do it properly.

our very own cheerleader Kasty with our dance instructor

She then taught us an interpretative routine of the song, “Mensahe del agua” [ message from the water. ] She gestured for us to sit on the floor as a block, taught us the arm movements, and then asked us to sing the song as a round. It seemed that she was quite happy with both of our performances as she ended the session with applause and a big smile on her face.

DAY THREE: MUSIC/ SINGING
It was the sum of all his features – the black wavy hair, dark eyes, straight nose, and nice smile that made him gorgeous in my eyes. (The Spanish ladies begged to disagree. He was rather ordinary, they said.) With a flute in his hands, he stood next to Elena, who was on the keyboard. We were about to work on our composing skills, she said.

The duo played a tune which we had to write accompanying lyrics for. But apparently, we couldn’t sing about just anything. They specifically asked us to compose lyrics that describe how we feel about our torre dela horadada experience so far.

front and center with Elena.

Standoff between the two flutist in our midst. :-)

one group proudly sings to the crowd.

We broke into small groups for the task at hand. I had the privilege to work with Alberto, Natalia, and another Concepcion. And this is what I could say about it: if you’re trying to compose in English with everyone having English as a second language, it could get a bit tricky. So we stuck to the most basic of sentences and were able to write two decent stanzas. Woot! Not that it’s going to win any awards soon, but I believe it was a feat, nonetheless!

i just had to have a photo with the guy.

I later on found out that our gorgeous facilitator wasn’t a music instructor but was, in fact, a history teacher! But then again, so what?! He was good-looking! (Yes, I could be superficial in the face of a handsome man.)

* Come back on friday for the second half of this post.

a typical day at torre dela horadada

2011-11-28T15:50:00.001+08:00

So what exactly did we do down south?

Sister Belen, our gracious moderator, together with the fabulous people who worked with her sorted out a schedule for us.

here's our timetable plastered along the hallway.

So how was a typical day like?
Here’s our every day schedule:

Breakfast
The Spanish love their bread. And I mean, LOVE. May it be in Loyola or south of the country in Torre dela Horadada, we were served the same breakfast –bread, marmalade, and a choice of cocoa or apple juice. That should’ve worked for me because I, too, love bread. (But apparently, not as much as the Spanish do!) After a couple more mornings of the same thing, I came down to the dining room with the hope of a good hearty breakfast. (I’ve been dreaming of longsilog for days!) At the very least, I was wishing for some kind of meat to go with the bread. As I slathered on strawberry jam on a slice with a heavy heart, Billie said to me and I paraphrase, “Why did you even expect it to be anything else?” The girl did have a point.

our daily bread.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

Morning Praise
After breaking fast, we all head to the chapel for the Morning Prayer. Someone would read from our pilgrim’s handbook the theme for the day, a biblical text, a reflection, and the focus of the day. After which, we’d break into groups (Filipinos, Polish, and Spanish) to share our personal reflection. Sister Belen thought that we’d be able to share more comfortably and honestly if we’d speak in our native languages.

morning starts with prayer in this sunny room.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

we'd usually have the chapel for our sharing sessions.

after opening our hearts, we bare our teeth as well - for the camera.

Beach time
Then we’re off to the beach! And I mean everyone! No one was left behind. (Unless of course she wanted to be. I think I forgone going to the beach when it felt like a hotter day than usual.) Who goes to some sort of a religious camp and get to go to the beach? Every day? Then again, we were in a resort town along the Mediterranean coast. It would’ve been a sin not to go, right?

torre dela horadada's stretch along the mediterranean coast is called costa blanca.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

ready to hit the beach!
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

just too happy to be at the beach!

Lunch
After washing off the sand and salt water, we got to finally have our second meal of the day – at 14:30. They fed us bread for breakfast and served us lunch at 14:30? What were these Spanish people thinking?! For someone who regularly eats rice in the morning and lunch at 12:00, it was just too much to take. There was this one particular day when we were at the beach, famished, and foolishly wishing for adobo and rice for lunch. Even as we were heading back to the house, it was all we could talk about! So imagine our surprise and delight when the cook served us arroz ala cubana! All of us shrieked with glee. Rice, blessed rice, for lunch! Hallelujah! I promise you, rice never tasted that good - ever! So hoping that the law of attraction could work for dinner as well, we wished for a paella supper. But Spanish girl Bea set us straight on that one and I paraphrase her, “We don’t eat rice at night. It’s too heavy and it’s close to sleeping time.” Oh, well. At least, we had rice that day. Woooot!

Siesta y Chores
We got to enjoy that famous Spanish custom of napping in the afternoon – but not before we were done with our chores first! Each person was assigned a task each day – may it be bussing tables, cleaning bathrooms, or preparing the activity room. Some of us skipped the napping completely and just hung out until the afternoon session begins.

with nacho, my cleaning buddy

here's maria scrubbing away!
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

cathy and mikel talking about music.

hanging out at the courtyard. (i think.)
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

katsy flanked by two dashing spaniards.

just standing outside the dining hall.

Activity
Our experience was listed in the pilgrim’s handbook as Conscience in Art. That meant a week of art and creativity-based activities geared to express communion with others, nature, and God. We had sessions that involved mime, graffiti, humor, dance, and film. I will expound on this one on my next post!

we're all doodling away. hi, ikay!

the guys trying to dance.

javier, bea, and agata working on their huge piece of art.

Eucharistic celebration

The afternoon mass was always celebrated in Spanish. But many thanks to Sister Belen who translated some texts for us in English; we got to understand at least the homily. Later on that week, each group was asked to “host” a mass. So we got the chance to learn and sing mass songs in Polish, too.

alicja, from poland, trying to teach us songs.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

when it was our turn to "host", we had to prepare!

billie and cathy teach the spanish and the polish people some filipino songs.

Dinner
Do I really need to expound on this one? Okay. so maybe you'd like to know that we often ate supper at 21:00.

Back to the Beach!
Of course, we needed to see the beach at night! But seriously, I think the elders wanted us to head to the beach at night so we could reflect on what happened that day.

C14's very own honeymooners pose along the boardwalk.

Mag+s Circle
Oh. This is absolutely the one thing I looked forward to. Inspired by the habit of St. Ignatius, we got to share the experiences of the day and our reflections. We asked ourselves the following questions:

1. What was the best aspect of the day? Why?
2. What was the worst of the day? Why?
3. What do I think God was trying to say to me in these moments?

They are simple questions. But if you think about it, they are actually very good questions to ask yourself at the end of each day.

mag+s circle on the balcony under the stars.
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

Sleep (Zzzzz)
We head back to our beds around 00:00. Yet still, the Filipinas found it hard to sleep right away. There were still so many things to talk about! But we had to let others sleep, so we reluctantly closed our doors, opened our windows to let the warm sea breeze in, turned off our lights, and crawled into bed.

I can’t remember exactly what it was asked but Sister Belen explained what this schedule was trying to teach us. She said this time table that we worked with for the entire week was an example of how we can go about our daily creative lives and still center our day in God. And this was a practical thing that we could do even after we leave Torre dela Horadada and eventually, Spain.

This weeklong experience didn’t feel anything like a cynical person would think of a religious activity. Of course, we prayed- a lot! But communication with God need not be boring. And for that entire week we were at Torre dela Horadada, it felt like we were on a summer holiday. Honestly. This just proves that you can actually have fun with God!

surviving a 12 hour bus ride to southern Spain

2011-11-25T13:13:00.000+08:00

Any sane person would have taken the plane or the train. So what does that say about us?

It was monday and the entire mag+s community was bound for different corners of Spain, Portugal, France, and North Africa.There was a group on a pilgrimage to Fatima where they were to walk along unbeaten paths. Another was bound for Lisboa to volunteer and live with multi-cultural neighborhood. While another group would be lending their muscles in Las Palamas to help renovate buildings and creation of spaces for encounter with community and nature.

In the WYD-MAG+S application form, we noted our interests and I guess, that’s where they based on the kind of experience they'll throw us into.

I and six other Filipinas hopped on a bus at 11:00 bound for torre dela horadada. And even after searching for it on google, there were still just three things that I know about this place: It’s a seaside town; It’s in southern Spain; and It takes twelve hours by bus to get there.

So what does one do to survive being stuck inside a bus for that long? Here are a few tips:

1. Explore a foreign place/ country.
Needless to say, everything that passes outside the bus window would be interesting. It certainly was for me. Misty mountains gave way to golden hills. In a couple of hours they were replaced by gray rocky mountains. And later on, the earth seemed to be entirely covered with off-white sand. The changing landscape was so interesting for me that I actually took a photo of the road, which baffled Spanish girls Bea and Maria. “Why did you take a picture of the road? It’s so ugly!,” asked Bea. To which I replied, “It’s not ugly to me! In the Philippines, everything is so green.”

a stretch along spain's extensive motorway

there were some exits that featured art pieces like this one.

even if it's mostly brown and dry, the spanish countryside is actually green - with their fields of windmills.

2. Be sleep-deprived two nights in a row.
Having just ten hours of sleep for the last forty-eight hours must have helped in making me doze off while in transit. If you’re like me, I never get sleepy while in a moving vehicle. It must be due to the years spent riding on the backseat of my parents’ car. So this ride to southern Spain was one of those rare times that I actually got some shut eye while moving.

3. Sit beside someone well-mannered.
Because she wouldn’t bore you witless with her incessant chatter nor wake you up with her fidgeting. She would respect what little personal space you both have. And darling Alexa was all that. She was the perfect seatmate. (as well as katsy, who was my seatmate on the way to Loyola.)

on the bus with seatmate pretty alexa

sitting across were gorgeous girls billie and katsy

4. Have two stopovers. (And make sure, one is for lunch.)
The bus does need to gas up, so you actually don’t have any control over that. And mr. coach driver needs his cup of coffee and stretch his legs anyway. We stopped for lunch at a petrol station. At one of the picnic tables, we ate our ration of sandwich and orange juice with Agata, our first polish friend. Our second stop was at another petrol station next to a motel where the girls bought Magnum ice cream.

yummy filipinos.

would you take a bite of this nun's tits?

roadside lunch with our first polish friend agata

stopped somewhere in valencia for some magnum. ;-) grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

5. Get on board a bus with friendly people from other countries.

Do make sure they are friendly so you could start hacking away the time with the all too familiar, “where do you come from? If I ever visit your country, what food should I try? Where should I go?” Alexa and I were seated in front of a pair of Chilean girls. And after asking those questions, they started explaining to me how Chilean Spanish is different from Spanish Spanish. (I guess, it’s pretty much like between british english, american english, and filipino english.)

6. Bring a guitar and sing away. (make sure though that the people you’re traveling don’t mind the racket.) When C-14’s very own minstrel Javier was bored out of his wits, he took out his guitar and started playing. Evidently, everyone was into music too (who isn’t?!) and joined in on the singing. Then each country - portugal, chile, philippines, was asked to play a song or two.

C-14's very own minstrel, javier and his partner, flutist ignacio

then it was the chileans's turn to lead in the singing

our very own marion went all taylor swift and someone was smitten!
grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

7. Have a TV on board. (But be sure that the film is in a language you do understand.)

Filipinos are just too familiar with this concept that even buses that go around the metro are equipped with TVs. Our bus did have a TV but the driver played a Spanish film. (Needless to say, I didn’t understand a thing.) The Portuguese girls demanded that the driver play a film in English but that fell on deaf ears. Yes, even if it did have subtitles, it would still be completely useless. How could you possibly read the translation if you’re all the way at the back of a moving bus? Hmmm?

this chilean cutie channeled liam gallagher and sang wonderwall

8. Be with good-looking people.
This one’s a no brainer. Simply because you wouldn’t mind staring at them for hours. Riding with this Chilean cutie who could sing and play the guitar, wasn't so bad. I didn’t mind looking at that boy at all. There was also this Portuguese girl who supposedly looks like Emma Watson. The girls didn’t mind staring and talking about her. In fact, they were so enchanted by her that they had their photo taken just before she got off the bus. (Of course, i joined in the photo. What harm is there?)


a portugese emma watson. or so they said. do you agree? grabbed from cathy diaz's fb page

9. Be welcomed by the warmest of people at your destination.
After dropping off the other group in the city of Alicante at 20:30, we were back on the road for the three more hours. When it felt like we would never get there, the bus was finally halting in front of a house. When we got off the bus, we were greeted with hugs and smiles by the most gracious of women. They have been waiting for us all this time! And at that moment, it seem that the looong bus ride might just be worth it after all.

hello to you, too! :-)

they made a cut-out of all our names! isn't that sweet?!

basilica de san ignacio de loyola

2011-11-23T20:22:00.001+08:00

Gratitude.

I’d often find myself saying a quick prayer of thanks when I was in Loyola. I’d gaze at the scenery or the gorgeous architecture, or watch the people from all corners of the globe going about and I’d be simply overwhelmed. Too overwhelmed in fact that all I could say was a simple, “thank you, father God.”

There was also much gratitude towards the Jesuits of the ADMU Campus Ministry Office for making it possible for me to join JMJ and mag+s. Another group to be much thankful to was the Jesuits of Spain, our hosts, who made such an experience indelible in my mind.

And there was something about Loyola that made it unforgettable.

I paraphrase what Tippi, an Ateneo senior student and fellow pilgrim, said while we were standing on St. Ignatius’s hill and gazing at the expanse of Azpeitia, “I know there’s something about Tuscany that made it magical. But Loyola, there’s something magical about Loyola too... My mom would love to see this.”

Maybe it was the sum of the enveloping mountains, the misty weather, and the warm people that made Loyola enchanting. So much so that I wondered, not just once, if living in this town was also a reason why St. Ignatius decided to follow Christ. To be born and live in this beauty, how could one not believe?

The Basilica of St. Ignatius is also known as the Sanctuary of Loyola. I’d like to think of it as the point zero (or ground zero?) for all Jesuits. Aside from the actual church, the Sanctuary also houses the original tower castle of the family of St. Ignatius. The left wing is merely a façade and people could actually tour the original structure. And as luck would have it, my batteries went kaput just when I stepped inside the room where St. Ignatius was born.

The family of St. Ignatius later turned over their house to the Society of Jesus and it was officially inaugurated in 1738. According to the experts, the Basilica is a fine example of baroque architecture and was originally designed by Carlos Montana. His plans were later modified though by Martin de Zaldua.

Since I couldn’t possibly give more (credible) information than a Jesuit, a local, or a guidebook about the Sanctuary, I would just share with you a couple of images I’ve taken.

the 65-meter high dome is the crowning glory of the basilica

the altar was designed by an another Ignacio, an Ignacio de Ibero

a quartet playing on the choir loft

a gold medallion could be more than a personal accessory

i think this is St. Francis Xavier

while this one is St. Ignatius

the stone staircase leads up to the museum

one of the girls described it as hogwarts stairs.

corridor that leads to the mmm... water closet. :-)

doesn't the basilica look like a manor from the back?

a part of the sanctuary's extensive grounds

a pretty spot where one can quietly talk to a friend

the dome and the town of loyola from st. ignatius's hill

the basilica all lit up

the rain in spain does not stay mainly in the plain.

2011-11-21T17:56:00.000+08:00

"The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,” sang Eliza Doolittle in the movie My Fair Lady. Repeating that line may have helped Eliza get rid of her cockney accent but it’s hardly the truth. In fact, Spanish rain mostly falls in the northern mountains.

Caterina, local girl and one of our mag+s hosts, shared us this bit of information on our first day while walking in the drizzle from the convent to the basilica. She said that the Basque country constantly experiences rain. This explains why Loyola and Spain’s northern region remain green and cool even if it’s the middle of summer and the rest of the country is brown and dry.

And on that Sunday morning, just when we decided to head to town, it started to drizzle.

The town was quaint and appeared to still be asleep. Most of the shops were closed except for a Chinese grocery and a panaderia/ mini-mart. We passed a couple of minutes standing in a little park, staring at apartments and parked cars, all the while getting drenched. Except for the occasional car swooshing by and the cackle of own voices, we couldn’t hear anything but deafening silence.

We footed it back to the basilica, often passed by longer-legged mag+s participants housed on the other side of town. The rain got heavier and caused us to stop at the convent to don some rain gear. Not really a girl scout, I didn’t have an umbrella or a raincoat so the kind nuns at the convent fashioned me a cape from a blue bin liner. Ingenious, those nuns! Wrapped in my makeshift cape, I braved the rain.

The downpour fortunately let up at around 1030 am and Sunday mass commenced a few minutes after. And boy, it wasn’t the usual kind of Eucharistic celebration we have back home.

The mass was two-hours long and about 20 minutes of which were spent staring at a multi-racial procession of Jesuits walking painstakingly slow to the altar. I turned to Father Xave and asked why he didn’t co-celebrate what appeared to be a very important mass. I paraphrase his reply as, “Sasama pa ba ako dyan?”

Fr. Adolfo Nicolas SJ, Superior General of the Society of Jesus (also the former President of the Jesuit Conference of Provincials for Eastern Asia and Oceania, and former director of the EAPI at the Ateneo), celebrated the mass mostly in Spanish. But just when our ears were getting used to the language, it would suddenly change. Without any warning or explanation, a reader or a co-celebrating priest would read to us in French or German, or Polish or Basque or some language I couldn’t name.

Never in my life did I feel more stupid than those two whole hours. (Okay, so maybe that’s not true. I certainly felt more idiotic when I was studying chemistry back in the day.) The misalette-looking copy handed to us didn’t help at all. It could have been in hieroglyphics for all it did for me. I had no idea what we were singing much less what the readings were all about. And the only reason why I was able to vaguely follow what was happening on stage was that the structure of the mass is universal. (Duh, Concepcion!)

To make matters worse, the sun decided to come out and bore down on us for the entire two hours. So needless to say, I got a pretty serious tan.

I swear, if I didn’t know better, I would blame the crazy weather in Loyola on global warming.

evidently, the rain in spain doesn't really stay in the plain.

a wet sunday morning in the town of loyola

slippery steps of an alley

one of loyola's drinking fountains

wonder why they blocked off all of the doors.

we found bread, bread, and more bread at a panaderia/ mini-mart.

here's an authentic spanish casa, villa juanita

just one of the many houses in loyola.

celina and I pose with couple of loyola's elders

mag+s pilgrims, locals, and tourists alike settle down for the eucharistic celebration

some had to stand since there weren't enough seats.

the high priests took their places on stage

mag+s indeed. a member of the film crew climbed on top of a car to get a better angle.

the three stars and the sun flying high

bro. jun proud to be mag+s

all smiles with the group from cuba

bumped into bro jayjay, one of the brothers who worked with my college org MUSMOS

second day. let's play!

2011-11-16T13:32:00.001+08:00

3 shower stalls for 32 people.

That was what we, around 28 Filipinas and four girls from another country, had to work with while living in the convent.

So what did this girl do? Wake up really early to get ahead of the pack.

No problemo as there’s something about traveling that turns on my inner alarm clock.

Send me to another place, another country, and I’d be as reliable and on to the minute as a Swiss watch. Maybe it’s because I know exactly what I want to see and do, not wanting to waste a single minute. (Why can’t I think like that when I’m home?!)

So early that first Saturday in Spain, I woke up just before sunrise and opened the tall wooden convent windows to darkness. The time on my mobile read 06:30 but I could barely see anything beyond the lit building a couple of meters away. Breakfast wasn’t until 08:00 (or was it 08:30?) but I knew I better get my hinny to a shower stall fast.

Breakfast was served at the school behind our convent. Like good soldiers, we queued for our turn to grab our meal from piles of crusty bread, butter, marmalade; pick up a cup of coffee or coco, or a glass of juice. On the floor, we broke bread and soaked up the warmth of the early morning sun.

Our first full day at Mag+s started with everyone congregating in front of the stage to say Morning praise. After that, it was pretty much a free flowing day for all. There were talks given by Jesuits that one could attend. (I went to the one on discernment.) Our hosts also prepared games – like dodge ball, tug of war, and darts that one could entertain herself with. They also set up a bar at the far end of the field where one can down drinks and share stories with participants from a foreign country.

Cultural night, where a group had to present a number that characterizes their country, was scheduled after supper that evening. Presenters were picked weeks prior to Mag+s and well, we weren’t one of them.

It rained that night and the show was moved to the mess hall. Tables and chairs were piled at a corner to create enough room for everyone. We wormed our way into the center of the tent when coldplay’s ‘viva la vida’ suddenly blared out from the speakers. Everyone then started to jump, clap, and sing to the song at the top of their lungs.
And even when the song ended, everyone was still on a high that someone started a congo line. Eventually, we were pulled in and in turn we started pulling other people in. The line got longer and longer until it was so long that there wasn’t room for the head to take another step.

Eventually, our hosts were able to set up the makeshift stage and the show commenced. Hands down, the participants from Indonesia gave the best performance. It was a cultural dance, recently included in the UNESCO list, that relies on precision and teamwork. (The following day, we found out from one of the participants that they actually practiced that particular number for three whole weeks!)

The other performances were entertaining to say the least. We were all having a grand time watching until we realized it was thirty minutes shy of midnight. Convent doors close at exactly 00:00. Reluctantly, we headed back to convent because we’ll end up sleeping under the stars if we don’t. (That would’ve been a fine idea if we were not exactly in the mountains. Brrr. )

the school behind our convent

breakfast of spanish champions: crusty bread, butter, and marmalade

a good morning indeed! hamming it up for the camera with fr. xave

participants gather for morning praise

leon from australia wanted to take my picture. took a photo with him instead. :-)

uncle benj and coni, proud to be pinoy!

people hanging out under all sorts of trees

shared the lunch table with erick from venezuela

a group of belgian boys challenged the girls in a tug -of-war game for a round of drinks

the girls playing against the boys proved to be unfair so two equal teams were made. this is team A.

this is team B. sorry. can't remember who won. girls, who won?

trying to learn how play diablo

crowds at the bar

we went up st. ignatius's hill

katsy and sheep

on the hill, we bumped into sal from america

ate supper while sitting next to eduardo from chile. is it just me or he looksa bit like keanu reeves?

a packed mess hall

host country spain dancing the flamenco

group from 2013 WYD host country brazil

participants from indonesia wowing the crowd

loyola. finally!

2011-11-14T11:55:00.001+08:00

My butt was only too happy to get off the seat.
Having sat for the best part of the last 26 hours, it was such a relief to finally stand up again.

After dropping off the American, Italian, and Spanish groups at the basilica, the bus driver took us to a nearby convent.

We finally arrived at Loyola, located in Spain's Basque country, the hometown of St. Ignatius and starting point of our Jornada Mundial de la Juventud Madrid 2011 (World Youth Day) experience. San Ignacio (as he is called in Spain) was the founder of the Jesuit order, the ones who established and to this day still run the Ateneo de Manila University. St. Ignatius also happened to be one of the 2011 World Youth Day’s patron saints. So it was just fitting for the young pilgrims under the Jesuits to converge at the basilica before setting out for their immersion, and eventually, the JMJ celebration in Madrid.

After dragging our luggage from the bus to what might have been a receiving room, the sisters welcomed us with sunny smiles and open arms but firmly established the house rules. Better to have things clear, they said, as we would be sharing the convent with other pilgrims from countries like France, Lebanon, and Venezuela.

After settling in, we then headed to the Basilica to register and claim our JMJ packs which to our surprise included the following:

1. JMJ backpack
2. JMJ shirt
3. Mag+s handbook
4. Two Mag+s shirts
5. Mag+s hoodie
6. a bottle of beverage (which I suspected to be alcoholic)

Around us, there was an undeniable and contagious feeling of excitement and joy. Friends, or at least people who know each other, greet with the warmest of hugs. Groups chat up the ones next to them, breaking the ice with the all too common “So, where do you guys come from?” While some, just happy to receive their JMJ packs, inspect their loot and don their hoodies.

We were more of the latter and just too eager to have our group photo taken. A couple of shots later and quite famished, we fished out our meal stub. Much to our surprise and disbelief, we learn that we’d be served supper at 20:45 and not a minute earlier. That meant, we had to wait about two more hours! Apparently, the mess hall wasn’t large enough to accommodate everybody in one sitting so we had to be served in batches. (And the Spanish really do eat their supper late in the evening!) I forget exactly what we had but what I do remember is that it was our first encounter with the ever-present crusty bread. The Spanish have it with their every meal.

After supper, we all gathered on the grounds for the welcome remarks. It was a cool summer night and we were only too glad to sit on the grass and try to stay up as long as we can. But come about ten-thirty in the evening, perhaps due to sheer exhaustion, I sneaked back to the convent and hit the sack.

'am i really spain?'

our first home in spain, a convent in the town of loyola

basilica de san ignacio de loyola

queuing at the registration desk

pilgirms trying out their shirts and getting to know each other

nicolas from mauritius traded his small hoodie for my big one

asked Patricia from USA to take our photo

ateneo mag+s group hamming it up for the camera

'who? me?' [olats is filipino slang for loser.]

gonzalvo from portugal was eating all alone at the next table. so we invited him over to ours!

participants from portugal flapped meters and meters of fabric trying to interpret the process of discernment

this bottle was included in our JMJ pack. encouraging the youth of the world to drink?

the road to mag+s

2011-11-12T14:45:00.001+08:00

I didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that.

The plane was finally descending toward Aeropuerto Internacional de Madrid – Barajas when I gave in to my impatience and took my first peek of Spain. The original plan was to wait until my own two feet were on the ground and carrying me out of the terminal; I would step through the sliding doors, feast my eyes on the entirely new landscape, and have the warm Spanish summer awash me while Placido Domingo sings Puccini in the background.

But all that was chucked out at several thousand feet above sea level as the need to see a patch of (to my time-warped mind) imperial Spain became too intense to rein in. Blame it on the countless stories of oppression by the Spanish Conquistadores drilled into my brain by history and Filipino literature teachers. My relatively-decent EQ didn’t stand a chance.

I leaned towards the burly elderly Spaniard who sat next to me since the layover at Doha and looked through the window – undulating golden hills that were occasionally punctuated by clumps of green.

The scene was straight out of a movie or an oil painting, and was completely foreign to my eyes. Only once have I seen a sea of gold - in Melbourne, where it was flat and still. But this, my very first image of Spain, was ripples of amber. Since then, I kept to the visions of art flashing through the tiny porthole. And a few more minutes into the show, the airport finally came into view.

The Aeropuerto Internacional de Madrid-Barajas terminal four is a must-see for me as much as Madrid’s Plaza Mayor or Palacio Real. Travel magazines have reported that this glass, steel, and bamboo structure wowed everyone when it opened its doors in 2006. So much so that it won the Stirling Prize for architecture. And for someone who finds airports to be one of the most magical places on the planet, I expected to be floored by it.

We finally made touchdown and, much to my utter disappointment, were directed to terminal one to disembark.

As I and the rest of the pilgrims from the Ateneo de Manila to the 2011 Jornada Mundial de la Juventud (JMJ) Madrid pushed our trolleys out of the arrival section, we were greeted by men in red polo shirts, wearing excitement and bright smiles that remind me of theme park attendants. They introduced themselves as Jesuits of Mag+s Spain and our host for the entire duration of the 2011 JMJ.

After some hand-shaking and small talk, we were ushered to the loading bay where the airport bus would whisk us to terminal four. The bus to Loyola will be there waiting for us in two hours. It seemed that I was about to be granted my wish after all.

From the motorway, I hoped to catch a glimpse of Madrid. Who are you, Madrid? How do you look? The bus climbed to take a right turn and then like they do so well in the movies, four skyscrapers started to rise out of the horizon. Followed by…. nothing else. Were we too far from the city to see anything but those? Or were they the only tall structure in the city? If that was so, then what kind of a capital is Madrid?

Terminal four looked exactly how it did in the pictures - bright, airy, and sleek. It says to the first-time visitor, ‘Welcome to Spain. We live in the 21st century.’ It was everything I expected. And the problem, I think, was just that. Though the architecture was superb, it didn’t feel like I flew 18 hours to get to Europe. Instead, it felt like I was in one of Asia-Pacific’s major airports. (Then again, that’s just me. I could’ve been hallucinating for all I know. The cabin air must have done something to some of the neurons and synapses in my brain.)

seems to me a cross between the Southern Cross station in Melbourne and the Pudong airport in Shanghai

interior bathed in natural light.

Celina, a former student of mine, with her charming pixie hair

queuing to get on the bus that would take us to Loyola

We then spotted a constant in most of the major transport hubs in the free world – the unmistakable McDonald’s sign. Most of the group decided to have lunch there. I, on the other hand, refused to spend my money on what was going to be my very first meal in Spain on a value meal. So instead, I fished out a granola bar from my bag.

At the airport, we met an American named Sal and his sister and later on, a group of Italian boys. They were all heading to Loyola, just like us, to take part in Mag+s. And we all ended up riding the same bus.

fr. tony and kai. that's our group seated all the way to the back of the bus.

The drive was eight-hours long and the terrain was diverse as the empire’s former colonies. Golden undulating hills occasionally yield fields of solar panels, windmills, and sunflowers. Patches of the motorway were carved right through red mountains. Gray rocky mountain ranges loom over the horizon. Every so often, I would wonder: Did Rizal see this? How did the illustrados find this completely foreign scenery?

the sight of sunflowers made that particular summer day a lot more pleasant.

peppered throughout the motorway, the iconic bull reminds visitors that they are indeed in Spain.

made an hour-long stopover at Lerma

gate to the old city of Lerma

If not for the cars, i would've thought i was thrown back in time.

The landscape slowly turned to green and signaled our arrival in the north. Thick forests became backdrops to Swiss chalet-like houses and rain became our constant companion as we wound our way through the mountains.

the landscape to the north: sunflowers, fields, and rocky mountains

with my seatmate, Katsy

By this time, we’ve been traveling for more than twenty-four hours. We were wrinkled, restless, and hungry. It seemed like Loyola was at the other end of the world and we’re not fated to reach it in this lifetime. Then suddenly, we spotted a banner that spelled out the word Mag+s. And just like that, we were finally there.

thank you, steve jobs

2011-10-06T22:36:00.001+08:00

as a present to self on my nth birthday, i bought an ipod video (not a mobile phone) from a seller in HK. since then, it has literally been my companion on the road, in different continents. the photos kept the loneliness at bay when i travel alone; the videos made waiting bearable; and the music, oh the music, provided a soundtrack to my everyday. my ipod video maybe is a grandmama in tech years but it continues to live a goodlife. steve jobs, thank you for your genius.

here's my battered ipod video. the 'goddess' skin was a christmas present from the uber sexy Lana Chan.

here's a quote from the late high priest of apple:

“Almost everything–all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure–these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.”

TRAVEL ADVISORY: Mumbai - Expected traffic congestion until 12th September

2011-09-08T17:11:00.002+08:00

anyone flying to india in the next couple of days?

heads up! mumbai maybe a bit congested. here's the travel advisory on the singapore airlines website.

"The Hindu religious festival of Ganesh Chaturthi will be celebrated on 1-12 September in Mumbai, the capital of Maharashtra state. As a result, traffic restrictions will be imposed across Mumbai on 2, 5, 6, 7 and 11 September, with expected road closures affecting 34 roads and one-way vehicular movement on 52 other routes.

Some major roads which will see religious processions include Jagannath Shankar Sheth Road (Girgaum, South), Chinchpokli Bridge (Byculla, South), Sandhurst Road (South), Pandita Ramabai Marg (Gamdevi, South), Ranade Road, Dr. Baba Ambedkar Road, Tilak Bridge and Shivaji Park (all Dadar, South), Lal Bahadur Shashtri Marg (Kurla, Central) and Aarey Colony (Goregaon, North).

As such, passengers are advised to factor in sufficient time for their journey to Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport. Check-in counters for SIA flights will be opened four hours before the scheduled departure time, and check-in will close 40 minutes before the scheduled departure time. "

AIRLINE PROMO: Qatar Airways offers 25% discount

2011-09-07T16:02:00.002+08:00

I recently flew Qatar Airways to and from Europe. And boy, did they make the one day that i lost in transit not so bad at all. (They weren’t awarded the Skytrax 2011 Airline of the Year for nothing!) So if you’re one who demands the best when you’re up in the skies, take advantage of this amazing offer and book your tickets right now at www.qatarairways.com

OH, BUT WAIT.

Read the TERMS & CONDITIONS first before selecting any of their fabulous destinations.

Book between 6th to 8th September 2011 only
3-day Sale offer:
- Up to 35% savings off of base airfares in Economy Class, resulting in all-in savings of approximately 25% after all taxes & fees are included
- Up to 20% savings off of base airfares in Business Class, resulting in all-in savings of approximately 15% after all taxes & fees are included
The discount has been applied to our lowest regular seasonal airfares (H class for Economy Class, where a 35% discount was applied resulting in a W class 3-day promo fare; and a 25% discount applied resulting in a V class 3-day promo fare); Our lowest regular seasonal Business Class fares in D and/or Z class were discounted by 20% and published in the same D and/or Z class as a 3-day promo fare)
Travel between 10th September 2011 and 31st March 2012
For the USA: travel between 13th September 2011 and 31stMarch 2012
Valid for travel from Australia, Canada, China, Hong Kong, Indonesia, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand, USA and Vietnam
Blackout dates: 1st – 7th November 2011, 8th December – 15th January (with no travel permitted in either direction)
All travel must be completed by 31st March 2012
Valid on Qatar Airways operated flights only
Offer applies to return tickets only
Offer does not apply for customers wishing to travel between the following countries:
Thailand - Vietnam and Vietnam - Thailand
Thailand - Malaysia and Malaysia - Thailand
Changes permitted within the same travel period at a fee of USD 150 plus any fare difference to the lowest available fare
There will be no refunds; a 100% cancellation fee is applicable
Child fares are set to 75% of the applicable adult fare
Infants fares are set to 20% of the adult fare
Seats are limited, subject to availability, and may not be available on all flights and dates
Other conditions apply, please review the terms at the time of booking

So what if their terminal isn't standing yet? So what if they need to ferry passengers from the planes parked on the tarmac to the temporary terminal? So what if you need to carry around a color-coded wallet while in transit? So what?! If the attendants are only happy to see to my comfort; i have a wide range of movies, television series, music at my fingertips, a blanket to ward off the chill and a pillow for my lowerback , and substantial meals and free-flowing drinks I paid for in advance...Heck. It’s fine with me to hop on a bus and feel a bit of the desert heat on my skin.

From the temporary terminal, the city of Doha is but a sliver on the horizon.

snapshot for the day: connect is the word.

2011-09-06T01:15:00.000+08:00

It's been exactly two months since my last post. I'm sorry about that. Been traveling for almost a month. And the month before that was, well, a blur if you want to know the truth.

But here's a little something for now.

A little bit of a mistake in spellling... at the Aeropuerto De Barajas, Madrid, España.
Wonder when they'll notice. Hmmm.

Quote of the Day: know where you're going

2011-07-06T20:29:00.002+08:00

“You got to be careful if you don’t know where you’re going, because you might not get there.” – Yogi Berra

snapshot of the day: window

2011-06-23T17:41:00.002+08:00

our front window

It's raining still and I'm homebound.
Sometimes, these little drops make me a wee bit pensive.

This is a jalousie window. Our jalousie window.
And by simply admitting that, I am telling you that I live in an old house. A 26 year old house to be exact. (One more year and it's officially vintage.)

I like looking at house windows.
As much as a door gives character to a house, so does a window. It tells me the age of the house and what design movement it's from. It also tells me the personality of the homeowner. (Or at least, what I can deduce from it.)

I also like looking into house windows.
When I was still a catholic school girl, I love coming home at twilight. Since our school bus towers above most fences, I would be able to get a glimpse of the insides of homes - with their lights on - as we pass by. For the most part, I got to see television sets dominating the living rooms with families staring right at them. The sound that reached me was whatever that was showing on the television. So I guessed, they weren't talking at all.

Occasionally, the television would be off and families would be partaking an early supper at their dining rooms. At least then, I got to see families actually talking to each other. They sat face to face and their mouths were moving. So I'd like to think that they were speaking to one another.

Some houses, the curtains were closed and I couldn't see a thing. I'd wonder then what these people had to hide or if their homes were actually cool enough.

I guess, even at a young age, I've always been curious about how other people lived, how their spaces looked, and the stories they could tell. Funny that at my first job, I had the privilege to be welcomed to people's homes and shoot them.