j a n s e n. i. s. m.

I wanted to end the speculations surrounding me about not going home on a Friday night. I did not party downtown, I stayed sober and as a personal trivia to share, my last beer was during Mike’s farewell celebration. I went out with a friend for dinner, observed the light display at English Bay, watched DVD at his place, had popcorns and Coke, stayed overnight because it was too late for me to go home, and went to the beach again the next day with his cute bitch Kuki and dog friend Mukai on such a fine Vancouver weather.

It was one of my best well-spent weekends here. I like to end the stereotype that one can only have friends from work or common friends with his own race and same experiences as everyone. I don’t go to church and don’t enjoy bowling. I am not a patient person and I like to spend my own personal time. I am an adult and will act responsibly like one. I will explain myself when I have to. I don’t take opinions about my personal life very well. I am not comfortable being the center of attention either. I get silent when I am offended. I appreciate genuine concern and disapprove sheer curiosity.

So next time I will not be able to make it home, I will text someone, if that will make us all sleep better at night.

The black sheep

It’s been almost 7 months since my last plane ride. About 6 months since my last long vacation. About 2 months since my US tourist visa was approved and made my first trip stateside (travel by land in Seattle). About 3 weeks ago, when Marc invited Mike and I to join him in a trip to California to visit relatives. About 2 weeks since I asked my lead to approve my vacation plan and I booked plane tickets.

It takes about 2 hours 53 minutes for a Vancouver to Los Angeles flight. About 2 hours to reach San Diego from Torrance by car. About 1 hour accumulated to finish writing this blog and posting. About 2 minutes of your time to just read it, and it starts right here.

At YVR airport with Sam, my new luggage.

Officer No. 14

If you’ve been reading my blogs and if you know me well, you already know by now that I am impatient. I hate long lines, semi-automated process and fill-up forms. I’m not very good at waiting turns and handling frustrations. So when the immigration officer told me in his ‘straight-face-I’m-just-doing-my-job’ way that I need to fill up another form and go back to the end of the line, I knew the right set of words to say discreetly and it starts with an F.

It’s Not Always Sunny in California

And I thought I needed a break from a wet city like Vancouver and my craving for sunshine will be satisfied once I landed in the sunny state. At the LAX airport it was more wet outside than when we left YVR. We were told there’s been a storm in California for almost a week already. I don’t want to even recall how stressful it was to commute from the airport to Torrance where Marc’s aunt lives. It felt like i landed on a wrong city in such a bad weather day.

Meeting Rosy and Ken

I don’t have relatives in the US and this trip wouldn’t probably be possible if Marc doesn’t have any too. His Aunt Rosy and Uncle Ken were nice enough to welcome us in their house as if they’ve just had a new set of three sons. They even reserve us a decent room at a local motel to spend our two nights in Torrance while we explore LA area. I’m already saying yes if they ask me for adoption.

Ken (a retired Navy officer) and Rosy (a full-time housekeeper, great cook)

Downtown LA

After renting the car at Avis, we were more than ready to start with our LA exploration on our first night in California. I don’t like navigation so it was a relief that I don’t know how to drive and I was always at the backseat while Marc and Mike argue over the GPS and try their best not to get lost in a foreign land or violate traffic rules. We don’t have a decent itinerary and I can’t believe we’re starting our tourist adventure by hitting outlet stores at Citadel but the sight of my favorite brand makes shopping quite hard to resist. Noticed that it’s even cooler here than in Vancouver. Dinner was very American, we ate at a diner called “Ruby’s Diner”. Next stop: Staples Center and NokiaTheatre. Just picture taking outside, very Asian. Marc treated Starbucks, happens very seldom.

At Staples Center on our rainy first night in LA.

Nokia theatre

Walked on the Stars and Reached the Universe

Day two and it was still raining, we woke up early and with the absence of coffee, I still feel half-asleep. We went to Universal Studios but realized it was still too early, the park rides are still resting and its employees are running late to work. So we had a little side trip to Hollywood and finally grabbed some breakfast while walking on Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Mike is actually stepping on his star, at least the first name says it.

With the limited time we have in LA, we chose to visit Universal Studios over Disneyland. It’s like choosing a main course over a kid’s meal and we were never disappointed that it still left us hungry. I’m not a big fan of amusement park rides because I have fear of heights and don’t like the feeling of myself turning upside down but apparently I enjoyed the attractions and rides here.

·So cool you shouldn’t miss — The Simpson’s Ride “Krustyland”, The Studio Tour, Special Effects Stages, Backdraft, Revenge of the Mummy Ride

·So creepy you can skip – House of Horror

·So bummed it’s closed that day – Jurassic Park Ride

Simpsonized.

Mummified.

Our only photo where the 3 of us are together in Universal Studios, and I wasn

Can’t believe Universal closes at 5pm like seriously, it’s as if it’s an office building. The night was still early so we decided to head back to Hollywood and check out the place at night. It’s more busy during the night, we didn’t get the chance to spot any Hollywood stars so we appeased ourselves with their wax versions at Madame Tussauds. Our LA fairy godmother, Marc’s Aunt Rosy invited us for dinner at a Chinese restaurant where we were the last customers served that night. Too much food, I think I could skip the next three meals tomorrow.

Sun of a Beach in California

This trip wouldn’t be complete without a visiting the beach and luckily there was sunshine on day three, so we spent some time under the sun without SPF — Santa Monica Beach and Venice Beach.

Mike took this picture in Santa Monica Muscle Beach, we were all busy taking photos (find me and Marc).

Sandwiched between suntanning couples in Venice Beach.

Boulevard of Window Shopping

Probably one place where it is legal and acceptable to do window shopping than actual shopping is at Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills, because clearly it was hard to afford shopping in the designer labels stores. We spent just about 30 minutes in this place as we had to head back to our motel to check out, return to the Varenas residence in Torrance, return the car at Avis then wait for Marc’s cousin Nick who will adopt us temporarily for the next 2 days in San Diego.

90210

Behind Versace.

A 3-hour Lunch

There was a little family reunion that happened when we returned at Rosy and Ken’s house. Their youngest son, Eddie came by with his wife Nelinia and soon we were all off to a Chinese buffet restaurant (except for Ken who wasn’t feeling too well). It was such a feast and yes we ate for 3 hours. If we’re not gonna go to San Diego, we would probably stay for dinner and still pay as cheap as $12 for each.

Eddie, Marc, Ken, Nick, Mike and Me.

After 2 hours of driving, me at the backseat again, we finally reached San Diego which will be our host city for the next two days. Kuya Nick welcome us to his house where we meet his amiable wife Ate Joy, his son, relatives and the cute bitch, “Yana”. Talking about Filipino hospitality, we were all treated like family.

Wet & Night

The following morning, Kuya Nick dropped us off at Sea World San Diego. I thought this place was starting to bore me a bit until the dolphin exhaled air on its blowhole, consequently splashed water and wet us. Then there are the thrilling rides/attractions like the Journey to Atlantis (which is like roller coaster with water and a lot more hydraulics, we tried this three times one after another), Shipwreck Rapids (where there’s no getting away from being wet, don’t tell me you haven’t been warned). The rides you can miss and are probably not worth your money are Wild Arctic (for me, it was too trying hard 3D experience) and Bayside Skyride (because it was too short and i didn’t feel too safe) Of course, to cap the day, we watched the killer whales performed at the Shamu stadium.

I need a cab. :)

Big Fish Out of the Water, photo taken by Marc.

The San Diego tour continued by the night with Kuya Nick, as our volunteer guide– Belmont Park, Seaport Village (checked out the Cerveza store), the Naval Base San Diego (photo ops is not allowed) and a short tour of city of Coronado (which i heard is an expensive city to live in).

Dry & Day

I’d probably be so bummed if we don’t get to eat at Jollibee when there are several branches here and we don’t have one in Vancouver. Like I’ve been missing Jollibee for the past 7 months and all i can think about is to taste Filipino fast food again. Finally, Kuya NIck and Ate Joy took us there for breakfast, quite fitting cause it’s Marc’s birthday too.

Spotted Jollibee in Mira Mesa, San Diego

Last stops were at Mt. Soledad, where we didn’t exactly had to hike to reach the top of the mountain and then San Diego Wild Animal Park, where it felt like it was safari trip on a sunny day.

Wind Surfing in Mt. Soledad or at least it seems.

The True Animals in San Diego Wild Animal Park

End of the Road

Like every other vacation, the California trip was fleeting and had to come to an end. Awww. We headed back to Torrance for a final farewell to Rosy and Ken, then we’re off to LAX to catch our flight back to Vancouver.

Hasta La Vista California

December 29

I am sleeping tonight on a different bed, in a different room, different house. Yes, I officially left the ‘blue and white house’ in Dow Avenue in exchange of the ‘big and old’ house in Edson.

Note: I was not evicted.

Flashback, about two months ago

Twit and Marc finally found a house that’s affordable, has five rooms and is relatively near to the office. They found this in Craigslist and this is one of those ads that do not come with a photo or a fancy description of what they’re trying to offer. So we went to the house for an initial viewing and the first vocabulary that came to my mind was ‘creepy’. The street outside was not well lit and too quiet, the lawn needs a serious gardener and the owner seems drunk when we met him that I am not sure if he’ll remember meeting us when he woke up next day. He gave us a little tour of his ‘big and old’ house and I couldn’t help but notice its creepy details— from the elaborate chandelier in the dining area, the metal, wood, ceramic found in the kitchen, the indoor plants and the spacious basement.

Later, a discussion happened as to whether I am willing to move in with Marc and Twit, plus Mike for a month, then share it with two other assignees coming in January. Somehow, this felt like I was talking to a salesperson and ultimately I had to make that urgent and difficult decision as if the ‘big and old’ house is the last on stock and it’s on 50% off rent. Then I realized this also means giving up the convenience and refuge the blue and white house has given me since I came here in Canada. I honestly said that I didn’t like the house but it’s not something I couldn’t adjust to. At the end of the night, I knew my decision was not for myself.

The last two nights at the ‘blue and white’ house

I had not realized how much stuffs I have bought and accumulated in my 6 months here till I started packing, putting clothes in bags, cleaning up and throwing thrash. It finally was starting to sink in to me that I am leaving the ‘blue and white house’ soon. At the same time, it dawned to me that maybe I should hide my debit and credit cards somewhere and try to shop less in 2010.

Earlier in the day

Packing, bagging, carrying, driving, loading, unloading (repeat x times) was my mantra today. This must be my most tiring non-adventure day in Canada so far. I want a full meal and a hot shower.

Mike and Marc posing after loading stuffs in the pick-up truck that was lent by our new landlord.

Mike and Marc ready for unloading stuffs in the old and big house.

Later that day

The hardest part about leaving the ‘blue and white house’ is not parting ways with the landlord but cleaning up the mess we left. I can’t remember the last conversation I had with the landlord, it didn’t last long I’m sure. While the last time we did some serious cleaning in this house, I remember was on Thanksgiving and as much as I wanted to make the kitchen, the living room and bath room tidier before we leave, I was already exhausted and I have a new bedroom waiting in the ‘big and old’ house that gets more of my attention.

The old (now almost empty) bed in the blue and white house.

The best corner of my new bedroom.

Early in the evening

The hardware for the wireless network came earlier in the morning and we were lucky enough to be in the ‘big and old’ house already when the package was delivered. It gave us high hope that the internet will be setup by end of day, hence the confidence that we could move all of our stuffs here and spend the first night over. A few minutes after we have settled and cleaned up our respective rooms (except Mike’s), Marc broke the bad news that the internet service provider will activate the internet on the 31^st as scheduled and my comment was “a house without Internet is not a home”.

Later that evening

Despite the age of this house, it is equipped by a semi-high-tech security system. You enter a security code to enable and disable the alarm and the system has buttons labeled ‘P’ and ‘F’ that will automatically alert the police and firemen when pressed in a moment of need, panic or clumsiness, I was told. After having a super late dinner outside, almost midnight, Marc opened the house pressed the code and when he didn’t get the beep sound he was expecting, he pressed the code again and the intruder ALARM SET OFF and in a moment of panic pressed the P button.

We didn’t’ want to be introduced to our neighbors through a police officer, so it was a relief that neither a police nor neighbor showed up in our doorstep. Marc, Mike and I had a welcome-slash-celebratory toast of Mudslide in our ironically new need-to-be-furnished living room. Soon, I didn’t have problem going to sleep in a different bed, in a different room, different house.

My left middle finger is swollen and is almost like a thumb, only that it looks long and nasty. I know it’s disgusting to talk about it, so if you start feeling sick now, I advice that you end your reading here. I’ve been having this swollen finger for a couple of days now, so this morning after having an almost sleepless night, i knew that i needed more than a pain reliever but an antibiotic. I said that as if I have a degree in medicine.

Unluckily, when i asked at the pharmacy for any over-the-counter drug to aid this swollen middle finger, the pharmacist assistant quickly shattered my hope by saying that I need to see a doctor and get a prescription. So I went to office disappointed 30 minutes late than usual, took the mefenamic acid tablet i found in my medicine supply then planned to see doctor later in the early afternoon.

I went to the medical clinic near Station Square (shuffle the words and you’ll get its actual name), a blond receptionist/nurse in red scrubs asked me to fill in a form since it was my first time there. She told me to come back after an hour and I obliged after noticing that a few people are already sitting, waiting and looking quite impatient.

I returned 45 minutes later, had scanned all the available magazines they put there for extremely impatient people but was not called until 2 hours after I signed up. The same blonde receptionist/nurse led me to one of the check-up rooms and asked what i came to have checked up for. I flashed her my middle finger, partly to show my despair towards their patient service and coincidentally because that’s exactly the part of my anatomy that needs check-up.

A few more minutes of waiting inside the room, an old, white, cheerful and funny doctor finally appeared. He quickly diagnosed my disease as ‘paronychia’ and in 5 minutes, gave me a simple medical advice on how to get rid off it myself using Q-tips and hot water. He prescribed me an antibiotic but advised that I should not buy it soon.

Me: How can i ease the pain though? I’ve been taking mefenamic acid tablets for now

Doctor: I don’t know what that is but I’ll give you the pain reliever we use in this part of the world.

A minute later, he was back handing me a few packs of Advils, the way Santa gives candy canes to kids. He’s the first doctor I’ve met with a degree in medicine and a sense of humor so I thanked him and forgave his clinic for the unreasonable waiting time. Too bad, I forgot to ask his name and when I attempted to look for it at his prescription, his handwriting is something only a pharmacist can decode. So I gave up, went home and positively thought that I’m on my way to to recovering my middle finger.

My first white Christmas is coming. I can feel it in the air, literally, because I can’t leave the house without the scarf+gloves+beanie combo. The grasses in the lawns are turning white and frozen. The cars parked on the side of the streets are looking glazed each morning I pass at Sussex. It makes me quite excited for the coming snow, slightly worried about the negative temperature (and flu) and very nostalgic of the Christmas season I’ve been accustomed to.

Christmas back home is more of a treat to the senses than it is in here in Vancouver. You see bright, colorful and sometimes excessive Christmas decorations on the streets and houses. You hear the familiar Christmas tunes played on the radio or children doing the carolling version complete with their improvised musical instruments (think spoon and fork, drums made out of milk cans) outside your house. You crave for the smell and taste of ‘puto bumbong’ and ‘bibingka’ freshly made. You feel the warmth of the season with the number of Christmas parties and get-togethers you have to attend to. You feel your wallet getting lighter with the gifts you buy. You feel happy receiving on the other hand, especially it they are the gifts you wished for.

I try to come up with a wish list each year, even if I know that most of them seems really like just wishful thinking or translates to spoiling one’s self (a.k.a. me granting my own wish). Here is this year’s wish list, so to my real friends, rich relatives, generous strangers, monito,/monita- please “pay” close attention  :)

Christmas Wish List 2009

• Prada sneakers in size 9
• Calvin Klein pajama set or underwear in size S
• Apple Airport Express
• Office 2008 for Mac
• Roundtrip tickets to the Philippines
• Basic/Beginner cookbook
• Electric shaver
• Leather gloves
• 3 in 1 instant coffee

Happy holidays everyone!

Five days ago

“…is approved”, the middle-aged stocky lady behind the counter told me at the US Consulate in downtown Vancouver at the end of the interview. She asked me to return on Tuesday. The butterflies I’ve been having since Mike’s application got approved two days earlier has gone. I left the Consul building with a semi-permanent smile, I pinched my arm and reminded myself that some dreams may take a while but they happen in reality.

Yesterday

“Please check your passport outside”, the friendly looking woman said politely for the nth time one visitor after another as she handed me my passport. I scanned its pages and there I found the addition, a US visa. I looked at my fat face on the accompanying picture and compared it with the one in the passport. I felt a bit disgusted by my now round cheeks. I placed the passport carefully on my left chest pocket, guarded it with my life for this will be my key to the the gates of Uncle Sam tomorrow.

November 11, 6am Filipino time

Mike woke up late thinking Marc and Anne will be late too. I was all dressed up by the time Marc has ‘broken in’ to our house (someone has left the door unlocked). Anne, who Mark spoke to on the phone, was ready and waiting for us at their house.

About half an hour later

We are at Anne’s place in Patterson when we realized we don’t have US dollars to pay at the Canada-US border. We made an early emergency morning call to Rico, who wasn’t able to go with us on this trip because his new work permit has not been issued yet. We went back home and the great trip planner/long- hour driver/official photographer handed us the dollar bills that we need.

Around 7am

While in our rented car on our way to the border, Anne and i noticed how many times the driver and the navigator said the vernacular “P” curse to Maggie, in disappointment. If GPS had feelings, I’m sure we are not getting to our destination but finally, a few turns later, we reached a highway.

8am

At the border’s office, Mike asked about what CBP means. These letters are printed in bold yellow on the border police’s caps. Canada Border Police was his guess. Customs and Border Protection, the correct answer as I read each words posted in a wall.

Around 820am

Without a plane ride, a luggage or an airport, I find it hard to believe that we are actually in another country already. Welcome to Seattle, Washington, USA.

Outside Tulalip Resort Casino in Seattle, first landing.

930am

I love big breakfast at McDonald’s, the US version looks almost the same as with the Canadian except for the muffin I think. By the way, it’s my first USD purchase in the US, and using borrowed money. Haha.

I watch what I eat, literally: hashbrown, scrambled eggs, butter, sausage, English muffin.

After that big breakfast

We’re ready to hit the shops at Seattle Premium Outlets. I was excited at first seeing how many shops are  found here but my enthusiasm wore off the moment i realized outlet shopping isn’t just for me. It was hard to find my sizes and I couldn’t seem to find anything fancy except for underwear. Plus, I’m not exactly fond of shopping for other people either except for Christmas.

At the Seattle Premium Outlets, shopping!!!

In the end, I only bought: two new pairs of Calvin Klein undies, a coin purse and small perfume bottle and four Nike printed tees. Marc and Mike who were shopping buddies today seemed like they were on a bargain shopping spree and were purchasing like there’s no USD-CAD-PHP conversion involved. When we returned to the car, we found the trunk filled with their shopping bags already. Anne, on the other hand, who finished last was having some regrets for not being able to buy a new coat, a new pair of shoes, a cocktail dress for an upcoming Christmas party or enough watches like she has hoped for.

Around 230pm

After four hours of shopping around the outlet stores, we moved to another shopping area called the University Village. The sight of H&M and Barnes&Noble made me realize that “lunch” could wait a bit more and so I went solo and explored the place. Didn’t find anything fancy at H&M, I guess because I frequent the store often in Vancouver. It was a different story though at Barnes&Noble which is a memorable for me because I have received a few books bought in this bookstore from my friend Sarita when she was assigned in US. The bookstore’s ambience felt like a library that has no tables and chairs but instead has  payment counters and price labels. It’s probably the largest bookstore I’ve been to.

My first actual book purchase at Barnes & Noble.

415pm

I found myself back at H&M with Anne, at the fitting room helping her choose a dress for the upcoming formal Christmas party she’ll be attending. Picked her a dress i thought was nice and surprised that she liked it and she bought. My thought bubble says “How come women’s clothes are a lot cheaper than men’s

550pm

Lunch-and-dinner-in-1 happened at Johnny Rockets, a nice American diner located inside the University Village. The waiter who I thought looks like a good looking cartoon character, took our orders one by one: Rocket Single burger and iced tea  for me. The burger came with fries and was made rather special when the waiter drew a smiley face out of ketchup on the saucer. I sipped the iced tea and tasted a strong tea flavor with a hint of lemon and the shortage of sweetener.

Every table in the diner has this cute jukebox. We never tried it though.

Lunch-and-dinner-in-1 just makes me smile.

Not my type of iced tea.

After that lunch-and-dinner-in-1

We drove to Seattle downtown, parked and walked in the streets. Finally I felt like a tourist looking at familiar shops I’ve only seen in print or have only heard of but have now come to life. The downtown here seems more busy and alive but lesser safe than in Vancouver, and the fall weather is just almost the same cold one. We passed about three Starbucks Coffee shops before we reached our destination– the very first Starbucks store located at Pike Market Place. After purchasing some memorabilia and waiting for our coffee orders, entertainment was in the form of a clash right inside the store between two  different class of vagrants fighting for territory.

At the oldest Starbucks in the world.

While waiting for my caramel latte.

Around 7 pm

If you watch Grey’s Anatomy, the picture below would seem familiar to you. It was early in the evening    and it started to drizzle when we arrived in Space Needle, perhaps the most popular landmark here in Seattle (rapping~rhyme). Marc and Anne who have gone on the top of the tower on their previous visit asked Mike and I to just go ahead, but I gave them their Christmas gifts in advanced and treated them tickets to see the observation deck once more. Standing more than 500 feet above ground on a rainy evening, I wouldn’t say i had maximized what the16 USD entrance fee. I was acrophobic and we couldn’t even get a decent picture with the Seattle skyline as background.

The Space Needle, standing at 520 feet.

Acrophobia, bad weather, evening equates to bad shot.

About an hour and a half later

We return where we parked our car only to find out that after Marc’s several attempts to open the doors, it just won’t open. Something must have gone wrong with the automatic button keys. We were almost ready to panic and ask for help, me imagining spending the night at Seattle hotel already and being stuck in the US for a day… when Mike remembered where the emergency manual key is. Our heartbeats returned to normal rate, we hopped into the car and we’re ready to go home.

The rest of the evening

There was a long line going to the Canada border and the four of us have already rehearsed what are common answers would be in case the border police asks or doubts that we did too much shopping in Seattle. Luckily, there were only a few, we made it back to Canada and called ourselves “balikbayans”.

5 minutes passed midnight

We reached home safe and called it the end of my first US trip.

It’s the first time I’ll be helping in hosting a dinner here in Dow Avenue and it’s for my first ever Thanksgiving. A few weeks back, we received a whole turkey for free from our last grocery shopping that Rico decided that he’d cook it for dinner and invite the rest of the group for an advanced Thanksgiving celebration on Sunday. Anne volunteered that she’ll cook Pinoy-style spaghetti, while her housemate Mitzelle will bake the apple-dates crisp cake she presented for Grace’s surprise dinner a few days back. Excitingly, I said that I’d prepare the appetizers and was determined to impress the group as if i joined myself in a cooking fest and they are judges or as if am looking at a new career opportunity and they are my potential employers.

Preparation is a key to achieve this goal, so I spent quality time in a recipe site, watched how-to-videos, list down the ingredients then went to a solo trip to a grocery the day before only to find out that most of the ingredients i needed are already in the fridge. I’d be cooking two variants of deviled eggs and a simple appetizer i’d like to call ‘gafts’ — gastronomic alternative for serving toothpick.

Sharing an apartment with two other boys, house cleaning is not something we do together on a regular basis. We are expecting about 4-5 visitors for this day and i knew this was enough motivation for us to do some tidying up in our little abode. To accomplish this, we hired a domestic helper  in the morning– who swept the floors, washed the dishes, cleaned the living and dining area, threw away the trashes that’s been hanging around for quite some time. Let’s hide the DH’s ID with the initials JC who did a decent job in transforming the house to something the residents don’t recognize for a while.

The improved version of the house which i swear looked neater before this shot was taken.

Spending a few more hours of labor in the afternoon, my little kitchen project is finished:

Appetizer 1: the deviled eggs

(1) with onion, celery and paprika (2) with honey, mustard and cheese

Appetizer 2: the gastronomic alternative for serving toothpicks (gafst)

Tofu versus Spam

During the festive dinner which started late because the turkey-cooking-time and Anne-with-her pasta are late, the diners all agreed that the appetizers tasted as good as they looked and they didn’t seem forced with their comments just because they were in our house. Anne’s spaghetti and Rico’s turkey are also treats to the taste buds. The apple-dates crisp cake could have been a great dessert but it never came to the dining table and so as the absentee baker, so we made the most of what we had: months-old ice cream, leftover grapes, and chocolates.

The divine turkey, Rico cooked for hours

Attacking the thanksgiving dinner

Over dinner, discussion included topics ranging from scoliosis, human and turkey anatomy and that three letter word that rhymes with ‘text’. Twit’s Wii and Mike’s Xbox provided the rest of the entertainment and proved how short span my attention is with video games in general. We didn’t do the traditional thanksgiving blah-blah. In conclusion, it was a fun, successful and long thanksgiving day (we wrapped up past 1am).

Thanksgiving feast

*Photos taken by Rico

1235pm

It’s been an hour since i abandoned my desk. There’s a team building activity organized this afternoon, so yay, work is half-day. I’m sitting at the backseat of a car parked outside the office building with Mike and Rey, waiting for Marc and Grace who will be hitching a ride with us for a lunch out at what would be my third visit at Goto King in Joyce. A few more minutes and I know that patience and hunger are two words that don’t go well in one sentence. I can hear my stomach starting to talk and you don’t wanna hear what it’s saying.

1250pm

Patience is a five letter word that starts with a b. We’re still waiting for the two and it occurred to me that maybe for some, 1pm is the new lunchtime. Earlier I called up Marc and he said that he’ll still take some time so we can go ahead but Mike intended to be their saviour and went back inside to check on how they’re doing with the work they have to finish, only to stay there for longer than he should.

Past 1pm

Mike still returned alone and much to my disappointment, he and Rey decided to have lunch at the hub instead and I was dragged to save myself from a potential lunch suicide. While ordering the pork ribs, the server said I had to wait for two minutes. I said to myself, hey, I waited for more than an hour for this lunch so what difference an extra two minutes make. So at the counter, I paid $6.25 to the cheerful lady and i faked a smile back, bummed that I’d be eating pork ribs instead of the ‘sizzling bangus’ I’d been fantasizing for lunch.

The pork ribs I reluctantly had for lunch.

Minutes after the late and disappointing lunch

The two finally came. I rather be silent and gulp my Coke than give a lengthy explanation on the spot, why I (or my appetite) seemed upset.

Quarter to 2 in the afternoon

Inside the car going to Richmond, the boys were picking on my frustration while Grace was apologizing when she really shouldn’t be redundant. When they got tired, someone started talking about work as if that’s not the reason why we’re late. Then there’s the joke about Marc borrowing the car on Sunday. Haha.

Around 2pm

We missed a turn on the road despite the aid of Maggie, the GPS, so instead of just 300m we had to take a long 7 km drive in the highway on to our destination: Richmond Go-Kart Track.

A late welcome to the Richmond Go-Kart Track

Before 3pm

Finally we arrived, the line for the Go-Kart was long but thankfully the waiting time was forgiving. I was anxious the moment I hopped in the pale violet kart with the black helmet fixed on my head. I haven’t tried this before and the driving experiences i have had were always inside amusement parks. In my head, I was memorizing that the left pedal on left in red is for stop and the right pedal on right in green is for go, that I hadn’t realize I missed the right strap of the seatbelt until the checker pointed it out. Then merely five seconds after my engine was set, I had my first bump on another kart, quickly turned the steering wheel on right and I bumped on the side track. I thought a personnel would come forward and tell me that “sir, you’re neither safe for this track or for your fellow drivers… get out!”. When no one did, my right foot hit the gas, the kart picked up speed, released the gas a little upon seeing a sharp turn and I made it without crashing or having to raise my hands up and wave in the air to ask or help. Driving go-kart felt like being on an open-air bump car inside actual track but with less intention of bumping. I made it to my first round and was relieved that I was safe and not endangering anyone else. This continued for I-don’t-recall-how-many rounds, and i was waiting when the Slow Down signboard will be raised to signify that we have to stop and park the karts already. When the time finally came, parking seemed to be a trouble for me, oops, i bumped to the kart on my front. I removed my helmet and I said to myself, not bad for a first timer. I did better than I thought.

Go-karting! (this photo courtesy of Twit)

There are the short and easy farewells… like when someone flies to India for a short term assignment, when a princess moves to a new apartment, when an officemate resigns for a better opportunity, when a relative you’re not exactly close with passed away, when old clothes are donated to charity or when the old couch is sold in a garage sale. Then there are the farewells that are long and difficult… like when another family member leaves for abroad, when you want to forget someone for ignoring you at times but you just can’t so you don’t and when the white hoodie jacket you’ve been waiting to wear this fall is passed to the one leaving.

08.30.09. Bang’s short visit in Canada ended today. We’re driving her off for the fourth time to the YVR airport in a span of two weeks but somehow we seem to still need help from Maggie (the GPS) to either get there in time or to get to the correct airport and back. I think she holds the record for most things done in two weeks for any Manila resource assigned here – this included tracking a missing baggage, emergency outlet store and mall shopping just a few hours after landing, presenting the offshore teams to onshore teams with local food pasalubongs, delivering the good and bad news to the assignees, joining team meetings, weekend visit to her relatives in Toronto, shopping at Costco, IKEA and Richmond night market, potluck dinner at Emily’s and Rock Band jamming, picture taking at Stanley Park and downtown Vancouver, road trip to Whistler and more last minute shopping.

Benj, Bang and me at Whistler (Winter Olympic Site)

Outside the departure area of YVR airport

Just hours later, we’re returning to the airport not because Bang is back so soon or her flight was delayed or that her luggage was missing again. Jell, my roommate for two months was about to leave and return to her true home. Her extended one year assignment is over and will definitely be missing an important figure in the blue and white house, her cooking, her over-all presence and TJ’s.

Empty bed of Jell

09.01.09. I called home and Mom announced that kuya will be leaving already for Saudi Arabia this weekend. I found this surreal, realizing that it was just two months ago when I left and last saw my brother who wasn’t able to go with us to the airport because he has an interview on a different job and now, he is about to make his first airplane ride, work his ass off for his first job in a long time, and I’m not sure when are we seeing each other again. I’m not super close with my siblings but we share the same blood and I’m starting to feel anxious and nostalgic about his leaving.

09.04.09. At 3pm, there’s a cake in the hub (canteen) waiting and it’s for the one leaving. Before going, I skimmed through his farewell message email and I was having a hard time searching names. Later in the evening, we arrived at the domestic terminal of YVR airport for Benj’s flight to Toronto where he serendipitously bumped into a former classmate. This doesn’t feel like a true farewell yet, since he’ll still be in another part of Canada for another week and next Friday, Rey, Mike and I will still see him at this same airport, spend with him his last few hours here and that wraps up his bittersweet two-month stay here.

I’m changing home address soon. The offer came to me a few days ago, to transfer to a high-rise apartment after one of its occupant decided to join a downtown girl in her nth house here. In exchange, a returning assignee is said to take over my spot in the blue and white house according to his agent. The bedroom which is good for two will now be good for one since my roommate is ending her assignment in a week time. So the fact that my room could offer the privacy the returning assignee might need and the rent is the cheapest among the houses I’ve set foot to here in Canada, make it as his best option. The only setback I can think is if returning assignee is a total neat freak. He might not survive the normal clutter in this house, the once-a-day dishwashing, the leftover food that stays left over for longer than a week sometimes, and the bathroom which is only clean an hour after a laborious general cleaning, all of which I have become used to in my almost two months of stay.

I had overnight to decide so the next morning, I popped the agent and told her that I’m willing to move to the apartment but I have to get the reactions of my housemates first — Mr. Chef and Mr. Pudgy. I thought about just emailing the two for a lengthy explanation or writing them a short  note the way I did when I requested Mr. Pudgy to wash the dishes recently (“Will wash the dishes later in case Mr. Pudgy won’t…“) and he did. Another option is breaking the news over beer. but some might forgot the topic after a bad HO. So instead, it happened so casually, I got over the nerves and told Mr. Chef when he returned home late that evening then the next morning, while doing the dishes, I said my piece to Mr. Pudgy. I told him that I’m not leaving the blue and white house unless assured that the returning assignee will guarantee his stay no matter what.

I revisited my option, as if the decision I told the agent was easily revocable. Part of me doesn’t want to leave the blue and white house– I’ll miss Mr. Chef’s homecook meals, Mr. Pudgy’s *ssholiness, the creaking sound my bed makes, the closet I inherited, the rice cooking and dishwashing with view of the backyard, the food and drinks shared in the dining table, the familiar walk from house to shuttle station. Part of me feels anxious about transferring– the normal adjustment, the new roommate/housemates, the documented house rules, the brown rice, the new bigger space and the slightly higher rent. What I find weird about this whole thing is that it shouldn’t feel like it’s a sacrifice on my end but it doesn’t quite feel like seeking convenience either. Then as the days leading to month end become fewer, I have to pinch myself more often and accept that my hours staying in the blue and white house are getting shorter. Unless of course, the returning assignee decides not to live here or Mr. Chef and Mr. Pudgy suffer depression in the next few days or the landlord begs me to stay which is least likely.