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Monday, May 12th, 2003
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10:18a - well, whaddaya know?
I just helped an old lady across the street. What a girl scout I am.
I'd gone out of the campus to buy lunch. While I waited to cross one side of Taft Ave., I noticed an old lady to my right who looked a little lost. I gave a little smile, and she stood a little closer to me.
The vehicles pass. I cross the street, matching her pace because she's a little slow. I walk beside her, generally unacknowledged, to the island below the LRT line. Once there, we pitiful pedestians wait once more for the courteous (blech) drivers of Manila to pause and allow us to pass. Old lady, still beside me, actually takes my left arm when we cross the street.
"Hija, may hagdanan ba diyan pa-akyat sa LRT?" she asks me. "Young girl, is there a stairway there (pointing across the street) going up to the LRT?"
"Opo, ituturo ko na lang po sa inyo." "Yes ma'am, I'll just point it out to you." By now she's holding my arm and I'm acting like this is my own lola, who died when I was in fourth grade.
"A, sasakay ka rin ng LRT?" she hopes. "Are you riding the train too?"
"Ah hindi po. Sige po, dadalhin ko na lang po kayo sa LRT," I tell her with a polite smile. "No, I'm not. Don't worry, I'll take you to the station."
So when we get to the bottom of the staircase, obscured from sight by photocopying stalls, I point the way to her. She's very thankful, and starts heading up the stairs.
And I feel a little satisfied with myself. Or perhaps more amused. "Ehehehehe. I helped an old lady across the street. Ehehehehe."
I've never done that before. Given directions sure, plenty of times. Outsiders are always getting lost in UP. Ehehehehe. Old lady across the street. Girl scout Rej.
I'm such a good girl, it gets exasperating. Usually. But today it feels nice. Ehehehehehe.
current mood:  amused
current music: Daredevil OST (comment on this)
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12:08p - the sojourn's end
In imitation of those travelers in Europe in American novels of the nineteenth century, I started a travelogue on my first day in Bangkok. Not that it’s worth anything—we stayed there for four days, and I only documented two. I was two busy actually sightseeing and taking pictures of everything to have energy left over at the end of the day for writing. It will be too long an entry if I encode the whole travelogue, so I’ll put them in separate entries. Really long entries can be a drag to read.
current mood:  sleepy
current music: Daredevil OST (comment on this)
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12:12p - Day One: The Flight
Friday, May 2, 2003
2:20 PM
Baiyoke Sky Hotel, 202 Rajprarop Road, Rajthevee, Bangkok 10400 Thailand
Well, here we are! Finally I’m in Bangkok again. I remember very little from the vacation we took here in 1988, though there are many pictures to tell me the story of that trip. I remember posing with my mom for a picture beside a sleepy, grumpy tiger. I remember watching two men showing off with sharp-toother, presumably trained crocodiles (an assumption made only recently, of course) in front of camera-wielding tourists both Caucasian and Asian. I remember the Rose Garden, filled mostly with orchids—I think that explains what my mother considers a morbid fondness with that flower. I regret that I have very little recollection of the palaces and temples, but then that’s why we’re back, after fifteen years.
Good Lord. Fifteen years. I didn’t realize my being age 6 was so long ago. I was a better traveler then. My mother tells me that on my very first flight in June of 1986—I was four—I was giddy with excitement. We were about to embark on a journey to a desert country, and my mother, though glad to join her husband in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia (where, for the uninformed or simply forgetful, I spent 9 years of my youth. You could call it a hometown, I suppose.) , was mourning the impending distance from her aged parents and six siblings. She’s fond of saying that my grandparents might have lived longer if I’d stayed behind; as the first grandchild, I was the apple of their eye. Of course, four year old me didn’t know anything about that. While my grandparents counted the minutes since their eldest daughter and favorite grandchild had left them outside the airport, I eagerly greeted every stewardess—or flight attendant, if you’re to be PC about it—and gobbled up the bread and butter that was an appetizer for the in-flight meal. While my mom sniffed and struggled with impending air sickness, I sang along to the in-flight music and paid close attention to the stewardess demonstrating emergency procedures. I think my dad was thankful for my enthusiasm—it meant he could pay more attention to my depressed and airsick mom.
Unfortunately, at around the time I hit puberty, all comfort I had with flying vanished. I couldn’t eat during the flight, because it made me sick. I had to sleep through the whole trip, to avoid nausea. And it was almost certain that during or soon after landing I would throw up, despite having eaten nothing. Upon exiting the airport, I’d be ravenous but would have little inclination towards eating because I still felt sick.
So upon boarding the plane at 10:15 AM today, I fully expected to feel just plain lousy. My three-day trip to Quezon (which remains undocumented on my blog, I realize) while fun had been tiring; naturally I lacked sleep. For some reason, the air-conditioning in my mom’s room kept me awake instead of snoring, and I had a headache the next day, May 1. My dad’s flight from Dubai, where he is based, landed at 8:30 PM, and we’d gone straight to the airport from our relatives’ house in Marikina, where we’d parked our car for the meantime. Knight Error had volunteered to take us to the airport to meet my dad. Of course at home we fussed over Dad and he fussed over the gifts he’d brought, and in addition to that we had to pack for the Bangkok trip. We didn’t get to sleep till 1:00 AM of Friday, May 2. When we awoke at 5:00 AM, the neighbor my mother had hired to take us to the airport was already waiting, so we skipped breakfast and got ready to move.
Of course, something had to go wrong. Al our haste was to no avail because the idiot neighbor’s vehicle, a clinky Tamaraw FX, broke down. Luckily, we got another neighbor, also an FX driver, to take us to the airport. We arrived at 7:00 A, a full three hours before boarding time. We got our breakfast after all, at a Delifrance outlet in the boarding lounge, as well as a stroll through the duty free shop. I had a huge sandwich, while they all ate little cholesterol-laden croissants. My mother feared I’d only throw up my breakfast on the plane, but hell, I was hungry and sleepy. I could only attend to one need at a time.
So we spent the remaining time milling about. Looking through duty free, where Dad got me a pair of sunglasses (Ralph Lauren! Whee!); reading; saying goodbye to friends and relatives on the phone. I made use of the time by calling various people from the office to leave instructions and remind everybody of deadlines—turning into a workaholic, I am. I called quinnzap, too, and yes, Knight Error, to say goodbye. When I had no-one left to call, I turned to an old love; I pulled out my copy of The Neverending Story.
But the flight was actually uneventful. Well, for me at least. I felt rather queasy at first, and then my body decided, “Like hell, I’m too damn tired to be sick.” So I slept. When I awoke, meals were being served. To my own surprise, I finished off my food, ad the coffee besides. And I didn’t throw up! Whilst I marveled at Bangkok becoming more visible outside my window, it was my brother beside me who succumbed. I watched black smoke rise from a fire somewhere in the city below while my brother breathed into a paper bag. Digression: I was reminded of a Mr. Bean episode, where he tries to cheer up an airsick boy by performing little tricks; he takes an air sickness bag which he takes to be filled with air, and pops it. He didn’t see the little boy throw up into it earlier, but the audience did. Ick! End of digression. The poor dear—my brother, that is—felt all too keenly the loss of dignity. While I would’ve been jesting about it afterwards, he in all his machismo resentfully pretended nothing was wrong. “I’m fine,” he grunted in reply to my every maternally-worried inquiry after his health. Poor, sick boy. Hmm. The same thing could be said about many of my friends, but that’s another story.
Only when we met a Thai customs officer did it sink in: I’m traveling again! Fun!
Of course, the sight of so many Caucasians at the airport reminded me of Leonardo di Caprio in The Beach. I am a tourist, I bring corruption!
current mood:  hungry
current music: an old Cake album (comment on this)
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12:47p - commercial break muna...
why the hell can't i create a decent link to anything on this damned journal???
had lunch in front of the PC, child of cinema went off to our mighty mistress, Miss Faye, for some meeting or other, quinnzap's not here yet (i think), our office secretary's a little grumpy, and i have a headache.
aargh. plus i feel stagnant in this job. for today, at least. aargh.
aargh. bwiset!
current mood:  annoyed
current music: Fleming and John's Ugly Girl (1 comment |comment on this)
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1:31p - yipee!
i can create links! whee!
(comment on this)
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3:31p - Day 2: The Tour
Saturday, May 3, 2003
After settling in yesterday, we went down to the coffee shop to eat. We’d been met at the airport by an agent from the travel and tour office, a lively young woman named Gina who thought I was my mom’s sister. In the van she rattled on and on about our tours and inquired after the state of affairs in the Philippines while I listened to her accent, rather amused. She spoke good English, but her accent was rather thick. I was to learn later that I should be thankful she could even hold a full conversation in English.
We settled in yesterday at the Baiyoke Sky Hotel. My brother and I stayed in room 4901 while my parents locked themselves up in 4902. The rooms were in the 49th floor, the topmost floor with guest rooms. This being the tallest building in Bangkok, we had quite a view, especially at night. Their flyovers snake all over the place, albeit in a more orderly manner than ours, and at night with the lights from streetlamps and cars, the city is a very beautiful place.
We didn’t do much. I had what was supposed to be a mildly fiery tom yang goong, which in simple terms is a spicy seafood sinigang. It had shrimps, squid and sea cucumber. I’d have been commending every bite if my tongue hadn’t been on fire. Mom’s order was some sort of salad that reminded me of our lumpiang sariwa. In an omelet bowl were mixed some leafy vegetables with noodles swathed in a type of hoi sin sauce. Such taste bud heaven.
We took a walk around the area and got into a cab whose driver gave us a free ride in the hope that we’d hire him for our tours. After a stroll in a high-end mall called Isetan (which teased my curiosity; I had to resist the urge to ask the sales ladies if they were connected to the Isetann in Cubao, QC), we took a circuitous route back to the hotel, which took us through Pratunam Market, a flea market reminiscent of Hong Kong and Chinatown, and Divisoria as well. I couldn’t wait to go shopping actually. Ehehehehe.
Today, we went off on a two-temple tour. One was called Wat Po, and the other I forget. The first one we saw held an image of Buddha made completely of gold. They only discovered this veeery interesting fact about fifty years ago; prior to that, it had been covered in plaster to protect it from looters and such. Then through some means, the monks at the temple realized that the statue wasn't just gold-plated, it was gold.
The second one was the Temple of the Reclining Buddha. Now that took my breath away. I forget the specs, but it's over a hundred feet long, and over twenty feet tall. Buddha lies in his side, and is made of gold, though I forget if that's gold throughout the statue or just outside. The soles of his feet are inlaid with mother-of-pearl. When I learn how, I'll post pictures here. I was happily snapping away at everything I saw--mostly postcard shots, if not pictures of a huge background and a tiny Filipino tourist family in a lower corner.
In the afternoon, we went to the Samphran Crocodile Farm and Zoo. I'd tell the story in more detail, but I'm sleepy, ehehehehe. We posed for pictures with elephants big and small, and later on saw a crocodile show, where, like they did fifteen years ago in another crocodile farm, two men performed tricks with sleepy and grumpy crocodiles. Not to be outdone, there was an elephant show afterwards, with elephants doing tricks they wouldn't even have heard of if mankind had not intervened.
We hied off to the Rose Garden afterwards, where there was a brief showcase of Thai culture: some Thai classical dance here, a traditional Thai wedding there, a sampling of Thai boxing, and a demonstration of traditional Thai sword fighting. Of course, they also had their own elephant show. Cute. We had a Thai dinner afterwards, courtesy of the tour.
We went back to the hotel supposedly just to rest, but we all fell asleep from fatigue. Se we just had another, late dinner at the hotel's Chinese restaurant, and the servings were so large that we consumed barely half of our food. When we returned to our room, we viewed the pictures we'd taken that day with Dad's digital camera.
current mood: in search of affection
current music: Duncan Sheik's Barely Breathing (comment on this)
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