Cubao Expo

I spent most of Saturday at Cubao Expo, the wonderful quirky pocket of Cubao that I hope the 'popular kids' will never discover en masse.

I am not concerned about posting about it here, because those kids do not read my blog. I no longer hang-out at Distillery along Rizal Drive because the pop-kids have discovered it. My aversion to them is not in their fashion, their slenderness, or in the fact that most of their cultural horizons never extend beyond anything more than ten years old (Ok, I exaggerate). But I do not appreciate how they cannot hold on to their liquor. I am a self-aware judgmental person on this because, as an earlier post of mine has mentioned, we have the genetic disposition to drink a lot.

The main reason I was there was the invitation to check out Outerhope, who I haven't seen perform in ages. They played their set on the 2nd floor of one of the shops, in a rather newly-opened place called My Apartment. The novelty with this venue is that you can watch the band up close (all 10 of you) on the 2nd floor, or you can stand on the street and watch them from the open windows. The buzz I heard that evening was that the bands sound better outside. My appreciation of this type of venue is that since it is 'intimate' it allows the band members to start telling a couple of interesting stories. I enjoyed Mic's (pianist/vocalist of OH) story of how a cancelled gig at Mag:net high street gave birth to a 'Living Room' set in their apartment -- comprised of all the displaced bands that evening.

My plan was to leave once Outerhope was done, but I ended up sticking around to watch Ciudad, the next band on queue. The fun and friendly vibe stuck to me and I ended up spending several more hours with Mic and brother Mike.

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Cubao is one of Manila's districts that are full of stories. As it is a major node of this city's transport network, everyone is going somewhere, and people still walk its streets at 4am. There are nooks that still contain the freaks, the very bad fashion, and the surprises.

La Regalade

I finally ate at La Regalade on Friday night, after weeks of texts to Tanya promising to do so. Like many good plans, the visit was hatched on a slow Friday afternoon, and all it took was a short SMS to trusty JL to set up a 730 pm dinner.

JL managed to round up seven of us. Not forty-five seconds into my seat, Tanya approached. She recommended the duck burger, and I agreed that that was what I was going to eat for dinner.

The food was good, and the service was better. After dinner, four of us decided to have the chocolate tart. I decided on the tarte tatin. My dessert was good, but it was the tart that was, indeed, the correct choice. It remained at the back of my head for the remainder of the evening.

We went for drinks at La Cabane further down Pasay Road. I was glad that my friends liked the interior. The service was okay, and the drinks were unremarkable. I don't think I'll be back soon, but it is a pretty place, and has a lot of expats, if that's the sort of scene you're into. I thought how much nicer Martini's would be, but also noted that drinks would also be three times more expensive.

It was still too early to go home, and in Manila that means that it's time for . . . more drinks. We went to Grilla's for the sub-zero beer, and we ordered yummy ground pig parts aka Sisig. The music was total dance club type and too loud -- which was really appropriate. After a few more beers, we went home.

Sunday night

Mahar and I spoke about how we should be more outspoken about what we want as customers. I agree with him. I think that there are tons of services out there where we are offered things that service offerers think are important to us, but actually are not. These are thoughts percolating in my head when someone tried to share me some membership in a hotel club type scheme. I know, sounds like one of those tiresome marketing things right? Well, I sat through a painful two hour discussion, but was patient coz the point was to get the free 3 days - 2 nights stay at one of their hotels. I got them and I'll probably even be able to use them.

Courtesy of our trivia night largesse, had Sunday roast tonight at Murphy's. The lamb was. . .substantial. I wish they just seasoned it better. The desserts were very good, especially the apple pie. Homey food at Murphy's along Esteban, very near the Rufino corner.

The weekend was un-eventful. But I think I am quite ready for the coming week which promises to be quite busy. I'm looking forward to it.

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unfortunately this weekend also included seeing videos and images of people in Tehran having been beaten or even shot by their own security forces. a silent prayer for the people in Iran standing up for their freedom.

Saturday morning

Last post, I wrote that the upcoming week I had to write a report. Well, that's exactly what I did, and it occupied most of my time. I didn't go the gym at all, which is a semi-big deal to me. But when I manage to get good work done, I don't really care. I've been wanting to do a good job for a while now. So worked many hours on the report, and it has been going through a process of continuous refinement which gives me confidence that it will turn out well and polished. Getting the support of various members of the advisory group also helps very much. We're even getting someone to lay this one out for me. (Oh thank you, thank you really). One other thing I wanted to share was that I am confident about all the data in this one. All of it, even the controversial parts that people are going to perhaps bitch about when they see it. That makes me feel strongly about this. So what all this rambling's point was: yes, I spent a lot of time on this and I'm happy so far with the progress and output.

And as if the week wasn't a good enough one yet, I was staffed into a new project, that perhaps will take me to Cebu and Zamboanga later this year. That rocks.

I'm in a good mood.

The morning and afternoon is a scorcher and poor Namee was sweating a lot. She attributes this to her higher body tempature because of all that yoga. Perhaps that is the reason. I ate some food with Nams and her family; there was some Thai vegetarian salad (which might have had dog-hair in it, i know, yuck right). But I tried to forget about that. I ate some of the "nice french food", which market regulars know who we're talking about. It was just a tuna and vegetable sandwich but the bread was substantial and tasty. La Cuisine Francaise is opening a restaurant in Salcedo Village. It will be the space in Paseo Park View, just across Apartment 1-B. Sedeno Street now has those 2 and Terry's on it. Nice new attraction for the neighborhood. I hope it does well.

Finishing up some of Fellini-Satyricon before I go out to do some running. It's just too hot to go out now.

June weekend

Malakas kami uminom sa pamilya. That's my conclusion, since I practically drank an entire bottle of wine for myself last night, during a friendly home mahjong game, and was none worse the wear. Mahar, Gica and I have been introducing the game to the debate society, including Chinese friends who seem to have a lost a little something of their cultural heritage for not knowing the game. My hypothesis is that their parents wanted to insulate them from the culture of throwing tiles and fighting with each other over lost games. In our case anyway, we play an 'old-ladies' game where we play for little or no money, and the fun is in the tactile handling of the tiles as the game is played. We played from 5pm to around 1030pm. Time flies when you play mahjong.

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I'm reading this old book now, a Ruth Reichl book called 'Comfort Me With Apples'. I much prefer it to her later book 'Garlic and Sapphires'. In the latter book, she was already an established restaurant critic, and the writing was about her journey as a writer for the New York Times. This one focuses more on her life as it transition from her Berkeley counterculture life to that of a hopelessly bourgeois restaurant critic. I feel pangs of sadness in the first few pages (and it's raining outside too, that doesn't help) because I already can tell that she's going to be leaving her husband before this book is over.

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I spoke to Cris today, part of my dad's other family, and was reminded that she was quite the runner in HS and College. She ran marathons and did excellent times. She called my 10K time slow (which I'm not too concerned about). But I will be sticking to my 3x a week training, and won't take her suggestions (just yet) of running almost everyday, and at minimum distances of 10K-- as training for my half marathon later this year. No thanks. But I'm glad that we talked about running anyway. It used to be her dream to run the Boston or NY marathon. I don't know if I'll get that far, but I'd like to eventually run a marathon out of the country. Like in Berlin or some far away place where the weather is cooler.

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A new week is coming up, and I have to write a report.

Mrs. Pettigrew Lives a Day

Last night, I extended a spur of the moment invitation to N to meet at Greenbelt. I was finishing an office-sponsored dinner at Chili’s and had no wish to head home just yet as I had a lot of corn and rice to digest. N lives across the street from one side of Greenbelt, so I wasn’t surprised that she responded quickly and agreed to meet.

We didn’t have an agenda, and we found ourselves walking. We wondered why some dessert places close early, and if we would spend 499 pesos per head for videoke, given that we only wanted to sing for an hour. We made a snap decision to watch a movie, and decided on the late-release Mrs. Pettigrew Lives A Day. We figured a Frances McDormand - Amy Adams movie would be entertaining.

Though I thought the movie was inaudible at times, and N had nodded off more than once, we both agreed that the movie was indeed entertaining. It’s probably simplistic to say so, but I will say that the movie seemed like a Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris marriage to Nanny McPhee. We are always charmed when the ugly teach the uppity how to behave like proper human beings.

The actors in this movie were caricatures of characters they are famous for portraying effortlessly. Frances McDormand is lonely and unloved. Amy Adams is either cute or tiresome, depending on the mood you’re in. Shirley Henderson, who plays the corrosive Edythe, knows how to curve her spine and gaze at the camera just so that I am torn between loving her perpetually unhappy look or laughing at her face. I think this was the intended effect anyway.

There are enough good lines in the movie, and I would have caught more if I had paid more attention. Here is one that affected me in the viewing:

Guinevere Pettigrew: “You people, with your green drinks and your parties and your subterfuges! You're all playing at love. One minute her, the next minute someone else, flit, flit, flit! We'll, I'm not playing. Love is not a game.” (courtesy IMDB.com)

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We didn’t spend much time going over the movie after it was over. I walked N to her corner and I took the 3 minute cab ride home.

running wet

There has been much status-message complaining about the heat enveloping the city. I would have joined in the chorus, if it hadn't been that so many people were already stating the obvious.

It was my luck that during my run tonight there was a good downpour. I found it slightly odd that runners took cover under a shed as the drops started to pick up in intensity. Wasn't the rain exactly the tonic we need against this muggy weather? Perhaps they knew something I didn't because 20 or so minutes after, I started getting itchy welts on my collar bone and back. I was taking a shower in rain water AND some additional tree things. T, who had been running with me, felt the same itchiness. Regardless of the itching or not though, we were happy that we were getting soaked. 

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UP Diliman has a scheme that allows multiple exit points for students and faculty, but forces everyone else to exit the place via University Avenue. I do not understand the reasons behind this, but if the goal is improved security or easing traffic congestion, I doubt this is going to help.

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I finally finished Edmund White's the Flaneur. The flaneur or rambler/stroller of a city, isn't so much the topic of the book as rather a device used to organize White's account of the modern history of Paris. I enjoyed the book, and liked the fact that it was short (200 pages in fairly large print). I am starting to read a new book now, Saul's The Unconscious Civilization. It is similar to reading Nassim Taleb in that economics/finance is immediately being discredited (and with fair reason).  The lectures from which the book is based on  are almost 15 years old, but are still relevant and good reading.

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Successful design solution at work?

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More rain.