Rationalizing Wanderlust

The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.

-- St. Augustine

Although certainly not exclusively the domain of bespectacled lovers of the written word, traveling is not an easy hobby to pursue. For those who live in the real world, where oil prices are currently inching toward the $200 per barrel mark and so on and so forth, it takes a certain level of financial confidence to be able to indulge your wanderlust and go where the wind may take you. Not to mention, a lot of VL credits, and also a certain amount of chutzpah to convince the head honchos that, yes, you are a very important cog in that well-oiled machine that you helped grease up and that although your time-out might bring about the ruin of the company as they know it, chances are they’ll endure in your absence, and so they need to let you go as you please--or else...

My last trip, albeit a little more "short and sweet" than I would normally care for (it's just a paradox), was certainly an eye-opener. When I saw the never-ending expanse of good ole Mother Nature in all her verdant glory, I felt something deep inside me being quenched, like a ripple swelling from inside out, saturating the weary soul. And it felt goodah!

I may have been a bit flippant in the past about serial traveling, but I realize that traveling can only do you good. No duh. But seriously now. Notwithstanding the present economic pickle we're all in that demands a little more effort from each of us in terms of conscious consumerist deliberation, if you should find yourself at a crossroads of sorts and faced with the question, “To go or not to go?” there’s only one way to rationalize it:

If you can, go.

Like them Nike ads say, just do it. End of story. And if you do your homework right, it’s gonna be well worth it. Satisfaction guaranteed.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

-- Mark Twain

I like to be prepared for the future, thank you very much.

Something to help you with homework...

Available in Powerbooks branches everywhere. Grab a copy if you can. You can’t help but fall in love even more with the Philippines after seeing what’s inside.

Hiatus Schmiatus

I was gonna post something about this meal that I had the other night but I think this is more critical.

I'm going away. No, not away-away. Just around the corner. And not me. Just my blog, anyway.

Need to disappear for a bit. Hopefully two months is a safe enough target. If you've bookmarked my site (arigato gozaimasu!), you can still check this space. I think. Otherwise, well, maybe I'll see you when I see you. Or rather, you'll see me when you see me. Not me, but my blog anyway. Whatev.

Anyhow, toodles. Wish me luck.

Peace.

French Spring in Manila 2008

Ooh la la! It's French Spring once again!

(Yep, this post is so long overdue.)

The two words (French and Spring) that can make me break out into song with matching spring-chicken dance moves:

Vive le temp
Vive le temp
Vive le temp de primavera!

(the above rephrased lyrics are originally sung to the tune of "Jingle Bells"--seriously!)

All right, so that may not be the most French thing to do. What can I say, I'm just the teensiest bit obsessed. I'm thinking instead of catching the show below so I might learn a few tricks to help me along this long-drawn-out process of acculturization to the French Aesthetic. (That is, if learning through osmosis actually works.)


Seriously, I think this is the shiznit. I really wanna go. I wanna see all the films they're showing at Shangri-La Plaza next month. I don't wanna catch them on bootleg DVD. I wanna see how the French get jiggy with it. I understand now that I shouldn't have missed out on last year's Pockemon Crew hiphop extravaganza. How I could have been totally ignorant prior to this time of the photography and culinary art exhibits that have been taking place all over the metro throughout the past couple of months is beyond me.

Indeed it is a terrible shame. Much as I hate being paradoxical all within the span of the same post, it saddens me to no end. How I used to take so many things, such as time and love, for granted. How I could have ever let a potentially beautiful moment slip through my now-rheumatic fingers. How I could never be, instead of letting be. So I'd like to make up for all the transgressions against who else but myself, for the sake of art, for the sake of self-liberation. For the sake of life... For the sake of love. (Naka naman!)
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(Oops, I just remembered--I might just be on hiatus on June 7th. Meaning, no Afro-French dance showdown for me. Maybe I'll go see this instead...)

Flipping for FlapJacks

It’s probably a mistake to be writing this review and alternately staring at the pictures below right around dinnertime. It probably doesn’t help either that right this moment I’m stuck at home, trying to resist the urge to haul my carbohydrated behind away from the computer, slip into decent Makati-lite threads, and grab a cab to get me to Greenbelt for another taste of FlapJack’s delicate pancakes. Yep, it doesn’t help me at all that I’m writing this right now.


After weeks of steering clear of the lure of exciting dining places, I finally gave in. With the passing of the long-overdue CamSur trip, I could let my hair down again and indulge all my gastronomic hankering for what’s left of the summer. Last week Soms and I thought of checking out the newest star on the glimmering Greenbelt dining promenade. Since the theme of the resto was good breakfast meals all day long (as in the tradition of old-fashioned pancake houses in the States but with a fancy schmancy twist), I had earlier thought of making it an early morning rendezvous. But then I realized that it would just cramp my style, me being a nightcrawler and all.

So then we went after working hours, well past dinnertime actually, and tried our hardest not to bite off more than we could chew. I decided on the Double Blueberry pancakes since they had such a pretty picture printed on the menu. Meanwhile, Soms was torn between the Beef Salpicao and some other dish that had a side serving of pancakes. Good thing he saw the light and realized that too many pancakes at 10pm was indeed too many pancakes.

The service was quite impeccable for the low-key kind of place that it was; the dining couch was cushy enough to make small talk over the rumbling of our tummies more manageable (dinnertime was long overdue, after all); and the best thing--we didn’t have to wait too long for our food. It came and went, but not without major effort from our part to try to not to inhale the whole table all in one big huff. The Double Blueberry, we were informed, was the house’s best-selling pancake. It was named so because apart from the generous dollop of blueberry sauce sloshed on top, you could see a smattering of blueberry chunks inside when you slice through the heap. Good thing we had the pancakes while they were still warm. I wouldn't say it was anything like in the cartooney M&M ads, but for sure it was a melt-in-your-mouth experience. The folks over at the other pancake house parked along G4 had better watch out; this newcomer’s got instant converts in the house!


From one “eggs-traordinary” dish to another (yeah, I know it's a terrible pun), we were equally enraptured by the house’s take on the Spanish-sounding local dish Salpicao. Nestled on the side with rice and scrambled eggs, I thought it looked like something that might have been served to the food-loving friars during the Spanish era, simply because it looked so good. Although when the guys at FlapJacks brought out this handsome-looking plate, it wasn’t the looks that got our motor running. Rather it was the heady aroma of eau d’huile de boeuf (yes, I just came up with that), that telling thing that results in one’s mental salivating mechanism to go on overdrive. Just now I realize we had too much animal protein that night, and I thought the eggs were a bit average for my liking, but the bovine was divine. The tastiness of the beef offset the characteristic blandness of the eggs, leading the overall flavor to converge at the point of contact with the meat. In the end, all’s well that converges well.

Soms was so impressed with the meal that he declared the place to be the new Heaven ‘n Eggs (in fact, for a certain favor, he actually said that I owe him FlapJacks flapjacks!). I would, on the other hand, say it’s a tough one to call. Maybe after we sample the Triple Chocolate Chip Pancake (yummm!) plus something else to keep us on our toes, then I’ll be able to say that it indeed is the premier pancake place to be. Right now.

FlapJacks
Ground Level, Greenbelt 2
Ayala Center, Makati City

Bicol Express

It is in the compelling zest of high adventure and of victory, and in creative action, that man finds his supreme joys.

- Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Open Up Your Mind and The Sky is Yours

Doncha just love the summertime?



I've actually downloaded the acoustic version of the song eons ago, which I so love. But with this new, Hawaiian-ish rendition, I find that I just can't stop clicking on insta-reply. Plus, the vid's pretty neat, too. Might just be in the running for my all-time summery fave. Then again, that's just probably coz I don't get to watch a lot of late-night MTV these days.

I'm Yours is the first single from Jason Mraz's new album, We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things, available wherever, whenever. After May 13, 2008, that is.

Cherishing My Chirashidon

Nope, that isn’t wagyu steak you’re looking at. Life would be too good if it was.

Of course, that doesn’t mean this dish doesn’t kick butt in the “good living” department. Despite its cartoonlike good looks, this Japanese import packs a protein-heavy punch, sans that sagging feeling in the tummy. (Not to mention the wallet.) If you look closely, you’ll see slices of tuna and salmon sashimi, kani, ebi, plus some tamago for a little dairy goodness. If you take out the rice in this dish (yes, you gotta have your carbs still), that’s 99% protein for you already.

As a tuna/salmon fan, the mere mention of the sashimi duet in the menu description was enough to compel me to forgo my usual order of Philadelphia Rolls. While the kani was pretty flavorful, I couldn’t tell how good the sashimi was coz I got to the resto pretty late and had taken my sweet time taking photos of the dish that I didn’t realize the place was closing up in a bit. In my haste to wolf down my meal so the resto people wouldn’t think I’m holding up the place and bring out the Yakuza on my click-happy arse, I accidentally put too much wasabi in my sawsawan. Yeah, you guessed it, my mind imploded. I saw stars, haha. That was some pretty good wasabi. I had to slow down a bit and resist from drenching my sashimi in the soy sauce mixture, but being a true-blue Pinoy, I just couldn’t let a good sawsawan go to waste.

The –don appended in the name of the dish of course denotes the presence of rice in this bowl. I have to admit my curiosity was piqued even more when I spotted the words “vinegared rice” on the menu description. I wondered how that would turn out. As I guessed, the rice was a little sweeter than usual. And a little more moist, of course, as Japanese rice usually is. It was quite filling, although I have to add a caveat that this might be a preference and proportion issue with me. Rice fans might find this a bit wanting but to be sure, anything that has the heads-up “healthy!” plastered next to its name in a menu means that the dish is gonna be stingy in the carbo-loading.

So the dish had some other surprise that I can’t name. There’s a fruit in there, that yellow little thing. I’m sure it’s nothing super exotic; I’m just a total ditz when it comes to fruits. The only things I eat are bananas and mangoes. Anyway, the yellow fruit was a surprise coz it provided an acidic contrast to the sweet meatiness of the fish. Upon first bite, I thought I would be disappointed coz the photo on the menu looked like it had mango in it. But it was a fitting component of the Chirashidon, somewhat serving as a side dish unto its own. Darn, if the store wasn’t closing up I would have asked the waiter. As it is, the investigation into the matter of the mysterious fruit will have to wait until my next visit.

On the whole, I think this is what exciting, healthy eats should be like: heavy on the goodies (protein, vitamins, what-have-you) while staying true to the flavor of the main ingredients. Put in some head-bangin’ wasabi and you got yourself a keeper. Next time, I’m trying their wasabi ice cream for that ober-da-bakod wallop.

Chirashidon (Php165)
Sushi-Ya

Gossip Girl and the Non-Episode of the Year

S,

Wherefore art thou? I need you. It's almost that time of the year.

I'm floundering in the ravages of time, battling this sea of uncertainty that I know will come at least 25 more times in the coming years. I need anchoring. I need to come up for air. I need music. I need to play the piano. I need Debussy. I need Neruda. I need chismis. I need a chiropractor. I need a Philadelphia Roll. I need swimming lessons. I need a good night's sleep.

I need something illegal in my system. I need a shoe addiction. I need a chain-smoking paragon of depravity. I need cheesecake from Bizu. I need foie gras stuffed with truffles. I need a friggin' Parisian sidewalk cafe. I need action. I need adventure. I need my own cable station. I need another credit card. I need a Roman holiday. I need a ride to take me to Bicol and back next month. I need deliverance.

I need to friggin' get out of this place.

xoxo...
V

(P.S. OT ka ulit this Sabado.)

Happy Guilt Trip!

Which would be more excruciating:

To want what you cannot have?

Or to want what you want, which you can have but know you don't really need and would probably be better off not having (which then makes you want it even more)?

Gaaah! Why oh why did the concept of want ever have to come to being anyway? As if that wasn't enough to give you a minor heartburn, there's freedom of choice waving in your face the proverbial noose with which to hang yourself. Ack. This indecisive war between the id and superego, between desire and responsibility, is killing you. You're positively writhing inside. And it's all your own doing.

***

But it's great, you think, that you're made to come to terms with such things. Through the distress of contemplating battles with the self comes the Trojan Horse of a boon, a welcome respite reminding you of what you have and have had.


You have had the time of your life. Whatever's gone down in the past so far, you know this much remains true. And for this, you will always be grateful.

And yet you sit there nursing your designer coffee, whining about how the past is getting old, and clamoring for más y más.


Maybe that's the beauty of experience. Maybe it's human nature to want more than what you have in your hands. Others are not so lucky. A few will probably never be.

And really, you have to admit that sometimes, you don't even deserve it. At least not all of it. Maybe not all in one big go.

But dammit, you want it. You want it. Heaven help you. You just don't know how bad you got it.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't try to find out...


Happy April Fools', everyone.

I'm Not Hungry.. Not Per Se...

Dammit. I am sooo making an appearance over at Salcedo Market soon for one of these babies.

It's been so long since I dropped by the area. Heck, it's been sooo long since I actually got up and about on a weekend morning. If it weren't for my semioccasional efforts to lifestyle-shift into the Sunday morning racing scene whenever I think I could muster enough strength for it, anyone would have easily taken me for a totally nocturnal little something-something. Of course such things skewed to the contrary I try to document without exception in this blog, if only to commemorate the days when I do get some weekend UV exposure and show that I could be a little less of the lazy ass that I usually am.

Plus, this is to serve as proof against the claim once made in fifth grade by our dear valedictorian that I was a bloodsucking Bram Stoker devotee. Spawn of Dracula, that little Lea Salonga wannabe said. Flippo. I mean, come on. I didn't even know about Bela Lugosi or the nosferatu until the following year. That was when Dad broke in the adult-level Grolier encyclopedia set and I learned of worlds outside the four corners of Zamboanga City. That was also the first time I came across the term "schizophrenia."

Shit, I'm rambling again. Gotta feed.

Oh, no—not these! Please, no!

Photos courtesy of TSOGB.

Salad Days: Going Green, Staying Mean

Finally. For the longest time, the idea of blogging about food has been fermenting at the back of my mind. Chronic wishy-washiness comes to the fore when I try weighing the pros and cons of the deal. My favorite excuse is that I would be undermining my own penny-pinching efforts, as I would be somewhat "forced" to eat out more often at places slightly better than your friendly, neighborhood Kenny Rogers (ain't much of a McDonald's junkie). Now not to diss the great Kenny R, coz he sure knows tasty comfort food-in-a-flash. (Even though his roast chicken gives off that GMO vibe, like you're biting into cloned meat or what-have-you, which is not actually all that comforting...) But some days when feel like you've had one roast chicken too many, you know you gotta have variety. And some days, you just gotta have quality variety.

By quality, I mean healthy. As in salads and greens. Olive oil-based entrees and roast white meat. Soy lattes and sugar-free desserts. Friends know how I can live on tuna au naturel for a whole straight week and not feel like I'm starting to grow fish scales. I get a kick out of eating things that I know won't lead me to a premature bypass. Even though I like digging into rich, hearty treats (lordy, I miss Cyma!), I get a little lightheaded from images of clogged arteries swirling in my head, the special effects punctuated with every bite. (Okay, well, maybe not EVERY bite.. usually just the first one.) Plus, I know I don't look like it, but I admit vanity plays a teeny role in my preferences. Gotta love this society that's being held up by pillars of double standards.

But really, I like what I like mostly because I like my body to function the way it's supposed to when it counts. I like sports. I like being able to move with as little baggage as possible. I like being able to go trekking for hours on end without stopping every 10 seconds or so for a breather, or slipping on jagged rocks and breaking a rib or two in the process. I like not looking like a wuss during training, especially at times when I feel like I'm being one.

So that's my story. Now what about this health food series thing? Well, the dealbreaker is, I have to motivate myself to eat healthy more consistently. Enough with the excuses, enough with the sissiness. Sure, grabbing healthy eats means dishing out more bread. But if you want something, you do what you gotta do to make it happen. If you gotta spend, you might as well spend wisely and with flair. Quality is the shiznit, whereas extravagance is for the uninspired.

And most of all, spend in finger-lickin' good taste. Coz really, if it's so good, who cares about anything?

Pomelo Shrimp Salad: Flamboyant and Delightful

From the Vietnamese kitchens of casual gastronomes comes the first in the series of nerdy good eats: my pseudo-all-time fave greeny treat.

All right, that's a lie and a half. Coz this candy-colored confection of a salad is as un-green as they come. The mussed-up array of reds and pinks is done with such aplomb that it almost looks like sin.

As much as I want to say that this is a health dish, the truth is that it's not. Coz nestled underneath all that shredded kani is really mostly water. Specifically, I believe the biological term would be cucumber. Now I don't usually like cucumber; I don't think they provide enough taste to make you forget how oddly damp to the tongue they feel inside your mouth. But in this dish, sliced thin and stiff, they work.

The dish has a smattering of nuts on it, a bed of shredded carrots sitting just beneath the kani, some onions for that snippy kick, and, as if to validate its salad-ness, some lettuce to balance out all that fusion of corals.

So far, I'm going on and on about color and placement, which might lead one to infer that I'm all about the looks. The truth of the matter is, the visuals matter as much as the taste. Well, okay, just almost. I'm not sure about the Vietnamese, but Asian cuisines such as the Japanese and the Korean are nuts about color, and they have a set of standard colors that determine the construction of a well-made dish. For such cultures, the visuals enhance the sense of anticipation of the meal and ultimately contribute to its appreciation. For the Koreans, it's more than a toast to epicurean living. Deriving from the principles of feng shui, they believe that the harmony of colors in the food they eat brings about good fortune and health. This might very well be true, as many foodies regard Korean cuisine as among the healthiest in the world.

So before I veer off further into the quasi-unrelated unknown, let me get back to the all-important factor that led me to write about this here flamboyant-looking salad: Do I like it? Well. There's nothing to dislike about this dish. Now you ask, so what is it then really? To break it down for you in three words: Sweet. Tart. Succulent. Of course, the last one is coz of the pomelo slices, not the paltry shrimp bits, which is actually my only complaint. But that minor injustice doesn't really matter, coz overall it's A-okay. The flavors meld together ever so prettily, like a tart-flavored cotton candy sky. For me, the secret lies really in the vinaigrette. I think it's what gets the job done. It's just so right. Plus, you never run of of it, seriously!

I'm telling you, this is a dessert masquerading as a main dish. (And I'm not talking about the inclusion of fruits in a supposedly simple meal.) Now you might think I'm mixing up my appetizers with my main courses. But you see, I don't believe in appetizers, which is why I keep referring to salads as main courses, what-have-you. Although, of course, salads can only go so far in the "gas-filling" department. More likely than not, your tank might feel a little like "gas empty" again in a couple of hours (if you're anything like me). So to help counteract that possible effect without having to cancel out the benefits of a painlessly healthy meal, might I suggest that you fill up with loads of water, or a pandan-flavored green tea drink, or a sugar-free iced tea from the nearby Wendy's. Whatever floats your boat, it's all good. Let me tell you, salad days like this have never been so refreshing. Enjoy!

Pomelo Shrimp Salad (Php174)
Pho Hoa Vietnamese Noodle House

Dessert Comes First on Mellow 94.7 FM

Ladies and gents, I am so tuning in on Wednesday night, April 2nd. The landline war is on.

Extra: The Contender Asia

I noticed that over the past few weeks, the spike in daily traffic to this site has been coming mostly from search engines. I'm guessing this is most likely due to the posts on The Contender Asia, the one and only show I religiously follow these days. It's wrapping up next month with the grand finale happening on April 12th in Singapore.

So to help answer what questions may come from inquiring minds, or just to offer a venue for public discourse and engagement, I hereby present the link to the best TCA fansite there is right now. Ta-dah!

Members of Contender Asia Fans gather on the virtual plane to discuss and analyze (and further trivialize, in some cases) the pressing issues and matters of the day. (About all things TCA, of course.) One can also pick up added insight on Muay Thai, the sport of focus in the show. The overall tone of the discourse is experiential, and sometimes it can even get a little emotional, particularly when colorful or dissenting views arise. Plus, a couple or so fighters from TCA do check in every now and then to spice up discussions with their first-hand accounts of the weekly fights and goings-on in the house. If you have kids and are concerned about psychological repercussions, let me assure you, it's a wholesome family affair. For devotees of the show, it's a nifty virtual hangout, especially after downing another heady episode of the ultimate nail-biter that is TCA.


Okay. So yeah, maybe I should have done this a long time ago, way before the quarterfinals were aired. Anyway, if you dig, good for you. If not, sorry, I can't provide an alternative forum coz that's the only one that I visit. If anyone out there has any suggestions, I'm like a duck sitting out in the open. I invite you to hit me with your best shot. *wrinkle nose plus nerdy giggle*

Peace!

Pinay In Action Run '08

I know, this is so last week.

Whatev, I'm still posting it. It is still March, after all, and all this is in celebration of International Women's Month.

Below are pics taken from the 2008 Pinay In Action Expo that was held in NBC Tent in Bonifacio Global City last Sunday. As an annual event that is spearheaded by Senator Pia Cayetano, this included a multi-distance all-women run and indoor exhibit showcasing bits and pieces that highlighted the sporty senator's advocacy for women empowerment in the country. (Plus, let me not forget, sassy environmentalism too!)

oh, happy day...

just a little shout out to our sponsors

assembly line

running in global city

inside the expo

it's like that, all right

Sorry, gotta run (figuratively now, that is). Details to follow in yet another week.

Happy Women's Month, y'all!

Pandora's Box of Old, Musty-Smelling Poems

I was finishing the last chapter of Daniel Keyes’ Flowers For Algernon when I came across the part detailing the protagonist’s out-of-body experience and his brush with the otherworldly. And suddenly, I remembered something that I had written long ago, buried under a mound of musty-smelling clothes that I had never worn since I brought them with me to Kalayaan dorm in 1999 (good golly! just saying this makes me feel so ooolllldddd....). Hurriedly I dug through the impressive heap until I found what I was looking for: my first diary since coming to Manila.

I make this pronouncement with distinction because my time in college and the thereafter is worlds apart from my life in Zamboanga. High school was an angst-ridden, ambivalent period for me, whereas college was a time for self-discovery, for rabid self-analysis. For trying to ask as many questions as one could in the hopes that somehow an answer would get drawn and ensnared in the black hole of uncertainty that kept self-amassing ad infinitum. As documented in my personal journal, it was also a time for writing poetry. And apparently, of things “(threatening) to consume me.”


This is probably the last poem I've written. Somehow I have lost all fire for writing poetry. Which is probably just as well, judging from the above.

Whenever, wherever, whatever. These days, it seems that's the best I can do in times when I feel the end is closing in on me. When poetic inspiration fails, there's always blogging. There's nothing like reverse voyeurism to validate personal experience as you attempt to purge your inner demons and let it all out for the whole world to behold.

I'm Like A Lawyer...

The lyrics below implicitly capture that which I had to let go last year..

I'm Like A Lawyer With The Way I'm Always Trying To Get You Off (Me & You)

Last year's wishes
Are this year's apologies
Every last time I come home
I take my last chance
To burn a bridge or two
I only keep myself this sick in the head
'Cause I know how the words get you {off}

We're the new face of failure
Prettier and younger but not any better off
Bulletproof loneliness
At best, at best

Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you

Collect the bad habits
That you couldn't bear to keep
Out of the woods but I love
A tree I used to lay beneath
Kissed teeth stained red
From a sour bottle baby girl
With eyes the size of baby worlds

We're the new face of failure
Prettier and younger but not any better off
Bulletproof loneliness
At best, at best

Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you

The best way
To make it through
With hearts and wrists intact
Is to realize
Two out of three ain't bad
Ain't bad

Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I woke up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
(Honeymoon)
Setting in a honeymoon
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I wake up next to you
If I woke up next to you
Me and you
Setting in a honeymoon
If I wake up next to you
(Honeymoon)

***

So now I'm a Fall Out Boy fan. And it's this song that did it for me. (Great vid, too.)

Sometimes their player's pretty useless, but you can DL away here.

Marion Cotillard Wins Best Acceptance Speech and Best Backstage Interview in the Oscars.. oh, and Best Actress too..

Marion Cotillard is damn beautiful. Mind you, she may not be the type of beauty that knocks eyes out of their sockets. Her sultry good looks may not inspire a madness that could drive one to slit their wrist in puppy love despair. Rather, the extent of her appeal, albeit not quite ethereal, is beyond worldliness. She doesn't look like Christmas morning, she looks like French spring. She's magnifique. She's divine.

It's cliché, but the star who plays the award-winning role of iconic French songstress Edith Piaf in 'La Vie En Rose' (not to mention the female lead in my fave French movie, 'Jeux D'enfants', as described by moi here) is the picture of all things je ne sais quoi. I mean, will you just look at her.


Plus, she's effortlessly funny too. How can you not love her?

[Backstage at the 80th Academy Awards Press Con] When asked how it felt to win first the César, the French equivalent of the Oscar, then the Oscar itself, she said:

"I'm totally overwhelmed with joy and sparkles and fireworks... Everything which goes like bam, bam, bam... all these things are happening right now. It's just a joy and so unexpected that it's surreal, but I love it. It's huge. I'm so proud of the movie. We had so much more than fun during the shooting and all the adventure."

Cotillard credited her presenter Forest Whitaker--last year's Leading Actor Oscar winner for 'King of Scotland'--with helping her to come back into her body. "I was totally... my brain collapsed," said Cotillard when asked what was going through her head after hearing her name called. "He helped me to find the plug back to my brain."

She said the process of being nominated for the César in France and the Oscar in America is very different. "The confusion is that I spent more than a month talking about myself, which is not what I prefer to do in life," she said, "so it's very long, longer than in France. You don't do this, you don't campaign, so that was kind of weird to answer the same questions about myself because the movie was released everywhere. I mean... the life of the movie is going on... the movie doesn't need us anymore."

(writeup in block-quote by Stacy Jenel Smith and Stephanie DuBois)

Like I said, how can you not love her?

Eureka Moment: Iron Is Actually Good For You

Aha! Now I know why I was so not bringin' it during training last Saturday. I needed some iron-pumping action, and how! And that's not just because I'm sort of anemic. Although now that I think about it, how in the world am I getting by without any ferrous reinforcement?

Needless to say, I totally bombed. Halfway through the second round doing pad work with one of the krus (that's Thai for "teacher"), I found, to my utter mortification, that I was operating at 25% capacity. In cellphone terms, I was low-bat. I immediately saw it even before the new trainer was saying, "Kaya pa ba? (Can you still do it?)" In my mind, I was missile-launching expletives at myself. WTF--I used to be able to do 6-8 rounds, straight up. The least number of rounds a student can do is three, with a two-minute break in between. So this one I totally didn't see coming. Just earlier, I had relatively breezed through a straight five-lap run of the tracks for warm-up. Okay, I know, that's not even half a 5K, but considering that I haven't been running in a couple of months, that's hunky-dory for me. Anyway, doing a 5K right before Muay Thai training is just not the smartest thing in my book. Add to that the realization that it is so not worth going through training when you cannot perform to full capacity. I swear, you'd just feel crappy.

An added caveat: This weekend was the first time I set foot in the gym since New Year's Day. Yep, I was that fanatical. During the countdown to 2008 party that Lejan and I went to (see here post), I was texting with the lone kru who was left to care for the training gym while all the other instructors were enjoying the holidays with their respective families far and away from the city. I was on a roll during the holidays, training for days at a time, and I was so gung-ho on making the most of the slackening preoccupation at work that I went ahead and scheduled a one-on-one for the next day.

So I came, I saw, I kicked butt. Although it wasn't the easiest sesh I've had or anything, I was pretty pleased with myself. Nothing says "I'm getting game" more resonantly than doing it in the first day of the new year. Obviously, I thought it was a sign of things to come. Good things, of course, a year of all things fabulous for the Muay Thai nerd that is me, myself, and I.

But then work came flooding back into the mainstream consciousness like a superlolo blowing up on NY Eve--in the living room. While you're in it. Plus, the fam's painting the town red, and I need to keep them in check lest they be accosted by the cops for possession/abuse of acrylics.

And my own pending homeward bound in the coming days doesn't exactly leave me with boundless energy for other stuff that the cosmos might throw my way.

And so, when I spotted a window in my weekend schedule to finally put in some time again in the gym, I was so intent on going that I didn't bother stopping to ask myself the usual questions before heading off to training:

"Did I get enough sleep (and not just rest) in time for training?"
(Answer: I was thinking 6 hours of sleep should be good enough, just coz I have had way less.)

"Did I eat anything the day before that might contribute to an unnecessarily challenging and uncomfortable performance?"
(Answer: Nothing memorable. Meaning, nothing weird enough to derail me from performing as needed.)

"Did I have a relatively stress-free Friday to buffer the craziness of the week and allow for a smooth transition to training day?"
(Answer: Not exactly. From Sunday to Friday last week, average amount of sleep must have fallen below 5 hours.)

"Did I have my daily banana?"
(Answer: Unfortunately, I was fresh out.)

Maybe I should add in a couple of bullets in this here list, saying:

"Did I take the recommended daily 14.8mg of iron today? What about yesterday? What about the rest of the week?"

"Did I ingest less than 2 units of coffee before Wednesday?"

The number right there is an arbitrary figure; I'm trying to cut down on the once-daily cup of joe, on top of attempting the impossible--doing away with caffeine altogether on the uber-toxic days of Thursday and Friday.

And another good thing to consider, too--getting enough calcium for all that bone-crunching, hard hitting/kicking/kneeing/elbowing action. I know I avoid dairy products like the plague now (unless if it's cheesecake) but this serves as a serious mental note to head on out into a pharmacy on the way home and get a box of Anlene or Calci-Aid or something.

Brrrrrr. I shudder to think of all the crimes of negligence I've committed in the name of whatever. If I were my own mother, I'd be giving myself a spanking right now.

So I have had it--enough with the excuses! Who knew the Muay Thai diet could be so common-sense? Read on, for the equally dispossessed.

Life's A Beach

Hunger hurts but starving works
When it costs too much to love...

- lyrics from "Paper Bag" by Fiona Apple

During a trip to Palawan with a few friends last year, I asked Greg as we were sitting out on the porch of the rustic beach house we were renting about something that my mind just wouldn't lay to rest. Earlier that day, we had toured the myriad of islands in El Nido and by golly, the view that stretched out in front of me was so sublime that my eyes hurt. I was so struck by the blinding beauty of the place that the question I posed only made sense: "What is it that makes places like this a thing of universal beauty?" That is, if there is even such a thing.

Much like moral relativism, I believe in the plurality of aesthetic values, in how something to which one ascribes beauty as a natural truth can be viewed quite differently by another. But certainly, at the key moment of recognition, there was no question in my mind as to whether El Nido was beautiful. No ifs, no buts, no maybes. I'm saying this now because prior to our arrival in Palawan, I had expected the rave reviews of El Nido to be overrated, that maybe the budding tourist trap was not all that it's cracked up to be. Now I know that to cradle thoughts to the negative was a sacrilege. To even acknowledge such a question could exist in the realm of the natural world was unimaginable. And that was what got me wondering, exactly what was it that made imagining so difficult.


To this day, I still have no idea.

And really, all I wanted to do was just post pics of some of the things that got me asking that question again today. But of course, I had to have an opening. =P

Anguilla

Nevis

Tangiers, Morocco

Capri

Amalfi, Italy

St. Barts

This is why people like me work like dogs. Because you never know when it's gonna be the day that the cosmos might decide to go nuts and give you your lucky break. C'est si bon!


Photos courtesy of Wimco Villas. The Conde Nast-winning villa and boutique hotel reservations company has an ongoing essay contest wherein you stand a chance to win a US$1000 credit on your villa vacation. Check out their official site and MySpace profile for more information.