Arla's Roasted Red Bell Pepper Sauce on Noodles

It's the second month of 2016 and my first post for the year is about FOOD.
Those who know me well understand that cooking, for me, is a creative process. I consider it an accomplishment to be able to come up with a dish I have heard of or tasted before and cook my own version based on what is available on the fridge (and the local market).

This is the case of my roasted red bell pepper sauce on noodles. I was on a noodle mania two weeks ago. I must've missed the taste of my all-time favorite $5-lunch bowl in Wellington, Chef's Palette, which was my to-go food whenever I am low on energy (yes, it happens!) and budget. So I wanted to recreate the experience. I started with sweet basil sauce but I ran out of honey. And there comes red bell peppers and other "spring" vegetables that are really cheap now. Ka-shing! Challenge accepted!

Let me begin by saying that I got the recipe from another blog. I just did my own few tweaks.
Here's what you need:

For the sauce:
3 medium-sized red bell peppers
garlic
shallots
1 tbsp. butter
1 cup chicken stock
salt and pepper

For the noodle dish:
chicken breast (to make chicken stock, while the meat will be added to the noodles once it is mixed with the sauce and veggies)
1 medium-sized carrot, julienned
1 cucumber, thinly sliced as well
fresh basil leaves
250g egg noodle or pasta, cooked as directed


1. Roast the red bell peppers. (Some people advise against taking off the seeds in the middle and just roast the entire red bell pepper. I did not follow it. I gave my red bell peppers a good wash, took of the seeds, and laid it out as flat as I can. In this way, I can roast all sides at a time.)

2. Once the red bell peppers started to get charred and smell really nice, you know it's time to take it off the heat. I sliced the red bell peppers in strips.

3. I sautéed shallots and garlic in butter then added the red bell peppers, salt, and pepper and 1/2 cup of chicken stock.

4. I placed the mixture in the food processor and made an orange, creamy sauce out of it.

5. I put the sauce back in the pan, heat it a bit, then added the remaining 1/2 cup of chicken stock, carrots, and chicken meat. Let it simmer. You can add more salt and pepper.

6. I added the fresh basil leaves and cooked noodles.

7. I garnished it with sliced, cold cucumber. It just gives a fresh and crunchy feel to the dish.

Viola, Arla's Roasted Red Bell Pepper Sauce on Noodles!
P.S. My parents like it! :) (Although the boys at home prefer something sweeter.)

Orange and happy.

Made for Relationships that Last

It came to a point when marriage becomes unnecessary for me. With so many married couples seeking divorce and those who cannot legally get married solicits recognition through a wedding ceremony, marriage seems to be reduced into another paperwork that has to be done to get through life.

I remember I once told my father, on Skype, that when I get married, my husband and I will have separate bank accounts. This would make it easier for us to part ways just in case our marriage did not work (because I observed that the longest and most difficult part of a divorce case is the settlement of joined properties and assets).

My father was quiet. And I don't like it when he is. He was even smirking at me. So I asked him why he was silent. I pushed him to tell me what he thinks of what I said.

Then in a very careful yet certain manner, that is so typical of him, he said:

"Anak, kasi nung pinakasalan ko yung nanay mo, hindi ko inisip na maghihiwalay kami."
("My child, when I married your mother, being separated from her was never an option.")

I was silent. I realized how selfish and twisted my view of marriage had become.

When God created us, He made us for relationships that last. He created the first man and woman "in His own image" because He desires that they be a reflection of who He is and how He loves. But it's interesting how it's easier for us to say 'I love God' yet it's a struggle for us to show this love to others, especially with those closest to us.

This is most true especially in marriage. Unlike friendships and professional relationships, marriage teaches us how to love in an exclusive, highly committed 'set-up' regardless of the faults and shortcomings of one another. No matter how you want to get rid of your spouse, just like how you would zone someone out in a friendship or at work, you just can't. You are married.

And it's just mind-blowing to realize that God actually designed marriage as a way to prepare us for eternity. He is giving us a glimpse of how committed He is in loving us. He doesn't love only when things are convenient and profitable.

Made to last. 06 September 2015.

As my parents celebrated their 35th wedding anniversary, I have a deeper appreciation of the enormous courage and hard work they have put into their marriage to reach that far. My parents - two mere mortals who fell in love (hehe) - are far from being perfect. But they have always believed in God's purpose for marriage. I pray I could honor them by having the faith to do the same.

Kaligayahan

Naghahabol, nagtatago, nalilito
Gusto kumawala sa lumang siklo
Nagpapaka-misteryoso
baka sakaling sumeryoso

Kaligayahan, ano nga ba ang paraan
Sinusuri kung hahanapin
kapag nawala baka ako ang habulin
kapag kumawala sa akin sisihin

Kaligayahan, ano nga ba ang dahilan
Panandalian, pangmatagalan
Hinahanap kung saan-saan
Habang-buhay o magpakailanman?

Tatay

That face! :D

While doing some weekend cleaning, I chanced upon this old photo (left). It brought back that wonderful memory when I was overjoyed because Tatay was home for my elementary graduation day.

As a seaman, Tatay was mostly away during our childhood years. The longest time we would spend with him was two months in a year. It was my Nanay who usually accompany me during school recognition day.

But one thing I am most thankful about Tatay was that no matter where he was in the planet, he was regularly in touch. He wrote us letters, oftentimes validating us of our achievements in school.

So it really meant so much to me to finally have Tatay on my side for the graduation march. Finally, the person whom I have been dedicating all my hard work for was standing beside me. He might not know it, but he was my greatest achievement that day. I finished on top of our graduating class and was donned with all those medals, but I know in my heart, that success only became meaningful to me because he was around.

It just hit me that this father-child relationship is so profound that I still cannot explain why I find it a joy to please my Tatay. I could have been angry for not seeing him as often. I could have rebelled and point to his absence.

But while a lot of fathers get sidetracked with their desire to be a good provider, I just realized that Tatay did not have to give me everything I need just for me to love him. He just had to be there.

Tatay only went back overseas once after my graduation day. When he came home, he decided not to leave anymore. We were struggling financially during my college years. It was really difficult. Yet looking back, I could never be thankful enough to him for choosing to be a "father" more than anything else.

Happy Father's Day, Tatay. Thank you for being a father to me.

Tira-tirang Soft Drink

Hindi ko alam kung bakit ko biglang kinausap si Henry. Siguro dahil nung nanghingi siya ng barya at ibinigay ko yung soft drink na bitbit ko, sinabi niya sa akin, "Ate, uminom ka muna. Baka di ka pa umiinom dyan eh."

Inaasahan kong katulad ng ibang bata sa kalye, garapal din si Henry. Wala sa sarili, sabog, nag-a-adik-adik. Kaya nga hindi ko pinapansin ang mga katulad nila. Pero nagulat ako sa reaksiyon niya sa aking pagbibigay-limos: may pakialam siya sa akin.

Kaya ginawa ko ang isang bagay na hindi ko pa ginagawa sa tanang buhay ko. Nakialam ako. Umupo ako malapit sa kanya. Tinanong ko kung bakit siya nanghihingi ng barya. Maysakit daw kasi ang nanay niya. Hinihika. Kaya siya ang nakatoka na maghanap ng pagkain nila sa pang-araw-araw. Tinanong ko kung nasaan yung tatay niya. Iniwan daw sila, may ibang babae. Sabi ko, loko yung tatay mo no; iniwan kayo.

Hindi niya ako sinagot. Tinanong ko kung ilang taon na siya. Sabi niya, dose anyos. Hindi na daw siya tumangkad kasi nagbibitbit daw siya ng kalakal. Ginagawa niya ang trabahong yun kapag gabi. Habang patuloy siyang nagkukuwento, nadama ko na lalo siyang naawa sa sarili niya. Kaya sinabi ko na lang na bibigyan ko siya ng pera. Pero huwag niyang gagamitin sa kung saan-saan. Ipambibili niya iyon ng pagkain nila.

Sumagot naman siya ng maayos na 'opo,' sabay tago nung pera sa bulsa niya. Akala ko, dun na matatapos yun. Kaya lang, napansin ko na may nakataling kung anong plastic sa binti niya. Tinanong ko kung ano yun. Sugat daw. Nabagsakan ng bakal na bitbit niya. Tiningnan ko. Medyo nagnanana na.

At dahil wala pa yung hinihintay kong kasama, sinabi ko na pumunta muna kami sa malapit na drugstore. Habang naglalakad, nakatingin sa kaniya yung kapwa niya nanlilimos at nabubuhay o naghahanap-buhay sa kalsada. Dun ko lang naramdaman ang panganib na kaakibat ng ganung buhay.

Sa loob ng drugstore, tinanong nung guwardiya kung kasama ko iyong bata. Sinabi ko, oo. Medyo abala nga sa akin kasi kagaya ng ibang mga bata, humahawak siya sa mga paninda. Pinagsabihan ko, katulad ng pagsasaway ko sa mga pinsan kong lalaki na nakababata sa akin.

Naglakad uli kami pabalik kung saan ko siya nakita. Sa aming paglalakad, ginamit ko ang pagkakataon upang sabihan siya na maligo araw-araw, maglaba ng damit kada linggo, magsuot ng tsinelas at huwag masyadong malikot sa kalsada - mga bagay na sinasabi ko sa mga pinsan ko kasi may pakialam ako sa kanila.

Tinanong ko din siya kung bakit di na siya nag-aaral. Wala daw kasing maghahanap ng pagkain nila. Sabi ko, kung makakapag-aral siya, mas madaming pagkain ang maiuuwi niya sa kanila. Ang sagot niya, "Wala na po. Yun. Yung mga kapatid ko, yun ang may mararating pa." Tumahimik na ako. Hindi ko siya masisi kung bakit naging ganun ang pananaw niya.

Nilinisan namin yung sugat niya. Pagkatapos namin mailagay yung band-aid, nagpaalam na siya. Inulit ko ulit yung mga bilin ko sa kaniya. Kasi kahit anong gamot dun sa sugat niya, kung hindi siya magsisikap na maglinis ng sarili, wala din.

Iyan din ang dahilan kaya hindi ako nagpapalimos. Kasi hindi ako naniniwala na nakatutulong ka sa pagbibigay-bigay ng mga iilang barya at konting pagkain. Kaya nagulat ako sa ginawa ko kay Henry.

Dahil sa pagkakataong iyon, wala na akong pakialam kung anong nasa isip niya o nasa isip ng mga tao sa paligid namin noong saglit kong pinakialaman ang buhay niya. Wala na din akong pag-aalala sa kung paano niya ginamit ang pera na binigay ko sa kaniya. Hindi na rin ako naghahanap ng garantiya na magbabago ang pananaw ng bata o susundin niya ang mga bilin ko sa kaniya.

Pero ito lang ang naintindihan ko: napalaya ako sa kaisipang lahat ng mga batang nanlilimos ay magaspang ang ugali at may dalang kapahamakan. Napalaya ako sa isang kaisipang nanghuhusga o nagmamaliit sa kakayanan nilang mag-isip ng kung ano ang pinakamabuti at pinakamainam sa kanila. At sana, napalaya ko din si Henry sa paniniwalang hanggang tira-tirang soft drink lang ang nababagay sa kanya.

Sa ikalalaya ng bawat batang Pilipino. Mabuhay ang kasarinlan ng Pilipinas.


12 Hunyo 2015
Siyudad ng Quezon,
Pilipinas

Three Reasons Why You Should Go to Guagua

I must admit: I would not have gone (or even think about going) to Guagua in Pampanga if not to fulfill a promise that I will visit a good friend and his wonderful mom.

But as an experiential traveler that I am, I always make the most out of my occasional wanderings. I don't just go to a place to check out its tourist spots (and have a photo with it so I can upload them on social media).

I go to a place to better understand it, its people, its history and the things that make it alive. In the process, I get to understand myself better as well. And that is what I got from my visit in Guagua.

I was transported to the 1940s!

 #1: Guagua, a small municipality that it is, is actually packed with so much history.
Blame it on our commercial view of development, but the elegant past of Guagua was hidden behind shops and other money-making establishments. Their municipal hall looks like a white, dull box which lobby is as equally uninviting. So I was really surprised (and thrilled) when I got to its second floor and saw this Commonwealth era interior with all these exquisite wooden chandeliers and ceiling! Photos of some illustrious leaders of the country who were natives of Guagua, like Pedro Gil, were shown. In fact, the house of the revolutionary writer Aurelio Tolentino is actually a few meters away from the municipal hall. It was a bit disappointing though that the house was not maintained as it is rightfully a local heritage.

As a visitor, those supposedly heritage landmarks have already spoken a lot to me about the active role and participation of Guagua in trade and public administration in the earlier times. So I was not surprised when my friend, Richard, told me that Guagua is known for its furniture-making and wood-carving industry. And I also now understand where Richard got his innate leadership abilities.

#2: RAZON'S! San Nicolas cookies and Turones de Casuy! :)
Pampanga is synonymous to good food. Breakfast started with (L-R) kalamay ube (rice pudding with yam), tibok-tibok (a pudding made with carabao's milk), and suman (sweet sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves).

Woke up to these local delicacies!

And of course, what is a visit to Guagua without eating at Razon's? I have always loved eating their palabok (noodle topped with pork crackling and thick red orange sauce made from seafood) and halo-halo (ice shaving with sweet banana, coconut meat and custard) combo in Manila. So I wanted to have an authentic experience of the famous delicacies right at its birthplace.

The food was relatively cheap as compared to the big city (which was awesome) but again, it was a shame that Razon's does not have an actual restaurant at its very hometown. With the prestige it has received in the national food industry, it should at least have been given a decent space in the town plaza and not in a tiny location alongside the street.

On a 40C day, lunch starts with halo-halo.

Following a Filipino tradition of pasalubong, I was brought by my friend and his mom to La Moderna Bakery, an old bakeshop that opened a few years after the Second World War. They got me the San Nicolas cookies and Turones de Casuy.

San Nicolas cookies reflect the religiosity of the people of Guagua. A typical cookie is molded into an image of the said saint, who was said to have been healed by a bread dipped in water. Turones de Casuy, on the other hand, is a nougat wrapped in rice paper. It seemed to be an adaptation of a Spanish candy-making tradition but this time, it was localized by wrapping it in an edible rice paper. Yes, those white wraps are edible. I tried them.

Pieces of Guagua to take home with me.

#3: Its fun-loving people. Again, if not for my friend Richard and his mom, Rose, I would not have set foot on Guagua. It was their positive energy that led me there and made my short visit to Guagua a more meaningful one.

"Dakal a salamat, Mamee Rose and Richard!" :)

Sentosa Island on Less than $20

One important factor that makes a place a good travel destination is that you don't have to spend a fortune for you to enjoy it. That is my goal when I visited Singapore. Besides, my main objective was to spend some quality and purposeful time with a very good friend who has settled there with her husband. Then again, what is a trip to Singapore without going to Sentosa?

Sentosa means “peace and tranquility” in Malay. And that is what I was set to discover.

From Vivo City, I paid $4 and took the Sentosa Express, the train line that goes to the island. There are three stations to choose from: the Waterfront, the Imbiah Lookout, and the Beach Station. I was initially planning to get off at the first station where the Universal Studios and Resorts World are located. But from the train, it seems that one has to purchase tickets just for you to get in. And I didn’t (or was not even planning to – haha).

  

We passed the second station and again from the train, it looks like a residential place. So I thought I’ll just get off at the last station and if I don’t like it, I can always take the train to other stations.

But it turned out to be the best decision for me. As soon as I got out of the Beach Station, I saw a tiny garden of Singapore orchids leading to the Merlion walk. I had always wanted to have my photo with a Merlion and that is on my checklist in Singapore. I followed the trail of a colorful, oddly shaped elongated pool (which looks more like a ceramic art to me) until I saw the biggest Merlion I have ever seen in my entire life!

The Sentosa Merlion happens to be the biggest Merlion in the whole of Singapore. It is directly facing the city of Singapore and is considered to be the city’s “guardian of prosperity.” It is the only Merlion that is open for exploration – for $12, you can ‘enter its body’ and take the ride up leading to its mouth. From there, you will experience a breathtaking view of the city of Singapore. Too bad I came in a bit early for its opening, which is at 10AM.

From the Merlion’s 'foot', I saw people gathering around huge blocks of letters forming the word ‘Sentosa’ and having their photos taken there. I waited for them to finish and asked one of them to take a photo of me. A proof that I was on the island with the giant Merlion on the back: Solved. Haha.

With still some time to spare, I took three escalator flights up and found myself in the Imbiah Lookout. There, I saw the Tiger Sky Tower and a machine which allows you to press your own souvenir penny for only $2. I was not in the mood for a nauseating ride so I tried my hand on the latter.

Then I walked further and saw the Nature Discovery Centre. It was a small, two-storey space, which features the floral and fauna of Sentosa and the efforts undertaken in developing this island with consideration for the environment. It was nothing fancy but the place was serene. I wasn't surprised that there weren't much people there. The sounds of the crickets amidst those trees just almost made me cry. I was away from the theme parks, the shopping centers, and the gastos that is travelling - and I loved it.

In that moment, I could say that I had truly experienced Sentosa Island. That was priceless. 

A view from the Imbiah Lookout

I planned to walk further to the beaches and have my breakfast there. But I did not have much time since I am meeting a friend back in the city. Instead, I just had my traditional kaya toast and kopi (for $7.10) near the train station that will take me back to the city.

What a better way to end my morning trip in Sentosa.

Total expenses: $13.10 (the train from the island back to the city is FREE!)
But I don't feel I missed out on what Sentosa has to offer. Instead, I felt I actually discovered what Sentosa claims itself to be: a place away from the busy city; a place of "peace and tranquility."

Click here for more photos.

Lessons From My 60-Year Old Mother

I went on Skype with Nanay (mother) after her "surprise"* birthday celebration the other day. She was so happy - a picture of a content woman at 60 because of all the recognition, affirmation, gratitude and love that she received that day. She told me that this was one of the only two "birthday parties" she ever had in her entire life. (She usually stops us whenever we organize a party for her because she thinks it's a waste of money.)

Nanay started in life with so much hardships and she often feels regretful for not being able to do more. She's also not as affectionate as Tatay (father) because her life circumstances shaped her to exhibit toughness and independence. But Nanay dreamt anyway. Nanay loved anyway - in ways she knows how.

Nanay is self-sacrificial. She thinks of others first before herself. She even decided to give the money that was supposed to be used for her birthday party last Sunday to a relative who was recently widowed and has a sick son. She cares a lot - too much that it often feels that she's meddling in other people's lives. But she can't help it.

And this Sunday culminated all the inconveniences, hurts, awkwardness, misunderstandings and all the negativities that come with loving others. Amazingly, however, what she experienced on her birthday party was anything but that. That is what the love of God can do to a person.

Because really, with all that Nanay had gone through, I am in awe at her ability to love nevertheless. And I know, she knows - she tells me that a lot - that it is the love of God that compels her. All these messages from family, relatives, friends, and the church confirm an irrefutable truth that has been shouting at me for the last two years now: Love wins.

Nanay may not have much money nor the prestige or position a woman of her skills and wit can achieve. Her children are neither perfect. Although there's nothing wrong with having much money, prestige, beautiful children. It would be awesome to have the best things in life and be loved by those you love as well.

But that time, while I was talking to her, I believe several times, in those 60 years, she had to make a choice. And I am soooo glad she had been choosing well.

And while she may not always choose well (she's not perfect!), she believes anyway. She trusts and hopes for the best anyway. And isn't that what love is all about (1 Corinthians 13)?

Happy 60th birthday, Nanay. Thank you for teaching me the most valuable lesson of all.

Nanay at Kalanggaman Island, Leyte (December 2012)

*My mom has a strong intuitive sense. It's actually difficult to keep secrets from her.

The Better Way

Any time is a time to love – no matter how embarrassing, uncertain, questionable, risky, and potentially controversial it might be. This is what I powerfully learned today as I gave my pasalubong or ‘welcome gift’ to Phil, my professor in Urbanisation last year.

Early on in my first few weeks in New Zealand, I was told not to get Phil as a professor. They say he is strict, cold, and distant. But the adventurous in me told me to take the risk. I had one similar professor in my undergraduate years and being in his class turned out to be a fulfilling and rewarding experience for me. So I gave it a go.

During the first lectures, it is easier to judge Phil as a cold, unloving, white, middle-aged man because of his pragmatism and penchant for line graphs and quantitative analysis. He is also not quite generous with grades. But beyond those seemingly straightforward lectures and discussions, Phil’s passion and dedication for what he does and how he sets the bar of excellence for postgraduate students really stand out.

After coming back from my field work in the Philippines, I already set it in my mind to buy some Filipino tokens for my friends in Wellington. And Phil is among those in my list. But it took me almost a month to give it to him because it was either he is away or is attending to some students. Also, whenever I am about to give the gift to him, I am presented with self-doubts on whether it is appropriate or even ethical to give gifts to your professor in New Zealand.

This afternoon, I bravely decided to show my appreciation and love when I received an email from the head of school about the death of his son-in-law. I said to myself, ‘There could be no better time to do it than now.’ So I knocked at his office and waited for a few moments as he was on a phone call. Then I gave the gift to him and he received it very warmly. We had a few talks on where I am in my thesis. Then I disclosed my dilemma on the appropriateness of my gesture and he told me, ‘This is actually something that is slowly diminishing now in New Zealand. But for me, the more the better!’ So I also said, ‘If they were to ask me, any time is a good time to show your appreciation.’ Then he gave me a tight hug.

I was still a bit shaky and nervous as I left his office – which is what I usually feel whenever I talk to him. He’s such a good and critical listener, which makes me very mindful of what I say to him. But this has taught me a lot about what real love is – it requires courage. One has to be brave enough to abandon his or her self just to be of service to others. 

"If you only love the people who love you, you will get no reward… And if you are nice only to your friends, you are no better than other people. Even those who don’t know God are nice to their friends. In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.” (Matthew 5:43-48, NCV and MSG)

And even if my professor took it differently, I would still love anyway. After all, there is no better way.

26 August 2014
Victoria University of Wellington
New Zealand

A Boy and His Toy

24 June 2014
Lola Elena's home
Tinabilan, Palompon, Leyte


Yesterday, I was preparing to go to town to do some errands and buy some food. But Ivan, our child neighbor, had been frantically crying from their house. It was so loud I can hear it from my room.

Ivan lives with his widowed mother and two sisters. But that time, he was left only with his younger sister. Ever since his father died, his mother usually leaves them all by themselves because she had to work at the town. That morning, Ivan was calling his mom and was just crying incessantly.

As I dressed, I was pained by the shrill sounds he made. For minutes, no one attended to him. I would have wanted to turn a deaf ear to what I hear. I have a lot of things to do. And I know that if I will allow myself to be bothered, I will really be bothered. But his house and my grandmother's are too close, it is only separated by a wall. I cannot deny that a child was crying. So I asked one of my grandmother's companions of what could be happening at our neighbor's house. She said that probably Ivan's older sister caused him to cry - you know, what siblings usually do to each other.

So I tried not to mind Ivan and convinced myself that it was just some petty children's feud. But Ivan just kept on crying. So I finally went to their house and asked his sister (who is probably just only nine years old - too young to look after her own brother) what happened. It turned out, their other sister purposefully hid Ivan's new toy because she was not given a new one the other day.

Then it suddenly hit me that this is not just your typical 'children's fight.' And this is NOT how siblings should be usually treating each other.

It's easy to condemn and get angry at whoever when we hear news of injustice, oppression, and greed. But do we even do something about it when we see it happening in our own homes or our neighbor's? While it's admirable that we think of the "others," let us be mindful: humanity starts at home. Hence, all humanitarian work should start at home.

Despite my and my grandmother's small talks with Ivan, he kept on crying. I can see how he felt powerless over his older sister's ill treatment of him that morning. Just so that I could go ahead, I offered to bring Ivan cupcakes if he stops crying and gets some rest. We were already worried that he might get headaches because he was crying long enough.

At the town, I told myself I should not have bothered. The children might grow too fond of me and that I would feel responsible for children who are not my own. I saw how they would often ask for food from my grandmother because their mother didn't leave them enough. I was afraid they would ask for more.

But when Ivan gave me that smile when he saw me after he finished the cupcakes (which only costed me a dollar), I was glad I bothered. I was glad I cared. And if he cries again and I would be compelled to give him another round of cupcakes, I am hopeful that I have left to a young boy a lasting impression that he should not be treated badly simply because his dad died a little too soon.

That Home*

Even Google knows I am home!

Mother's Day 2014
At home, Pasig, Philippines


The fifteen months that passed felt like a dream once I smelled and felt the humid air of Manila.

Things look a lot darker, with more clutter here at home. Honestly, I felt bad I had allowed myself and my family to believe we are living in a better condition.

Yet, waking up to the familiar music my Tatay (father) makes when he's asleep (otherwise known as 'snoring,' which was lullaby to me last night) and snuggling with my Nanay (mother), I knew this is so much better than waking up alone in a cold, dark morning in Wellington. No matter how chaotic and 'underdeveloped' this abode looks to me now, this is home.

This is who I am: a daughter of a middle-class Filipino family who finds riches in her relationship with her loved ones. This is my wealth: the bits and pieces of what may seem like rubbish to the developed world - for this signifies we are slowly putting things together and that we make sense of the small things that we have. This is my world: of mango trees all in full-bloom, the chirping of the birds, and the crowing of the rooster - for that means a long day of hard work is about to start.

As the sun breaks in against the ashy sky at 5:30 in the morning, I am convinced that the sun does shine brighter - in all the sense of the phrase - in this part of the world I call 'home.'

________________________
*Inspired by a song of the same title, (C) 2013 Newsboys, Inc. under exclusive license to Sparrow Records

Black Out

When I felt that excruciating and unbearable pain in my lower abdomen and lower back, I knew I had to go home. I packed my stuff in my bag, turned off my computer and thought it best to go to the toilet before heading to the bus stop. Fatimah, my Saudi Arabian colleague, saw me and asked me if I am okay. She said I look ill. She was right.

I was beginning to feel dizzy and it was becoming difficult to breathe. So I decided to get out of the toilet and go back to my room where I could sit down. I saw Fatimah running behind me as I struggled to slot in the key to open my room. My hands were shaking. After a few seconds, all I can remember was that I was on my knees as Fatimah gasped, trying to catch me as I unconsciously fall down to the floor.

I can hear other postgraduate students - Gina, Pedram, Anna, and Kelly - who were trying to wake me up. I can hear them asking me to open my eyes and to stay awake, which I tried with much effort. I was lying on Fatimah's arms and I can feel her body shaking as I hear her say, "I am scared." She asked for water and wiped them on my cheeks. Since I was still not fully conscious, she then asked for her perfume, put some on her head scarf and placed it on my nose. That finally woke me up. The first words I muttered were: "What happened?" They were all looking at each other as one replied, "Arla, you just fainted."

It took 20 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. Pretty long for an emergency response. But I couldn't complain. As they transferred me to a couch in one of the postgraduate rooms, I remember that when the same situation happened to me two years ago, no one thought of calling the ambulance. Instead, there were two big soldiers carrying me as the office driver (my 'Fatimah' that time) drove me to the nearest hospital inside the military camp where I worked.

Never have imagined I would use this service during my stay here in Wellington.

Two similar situations, one deadly reason: I was trying to play 'God' again.
A few days back, I knew I had to slow down. But whenever I would shut myself from my daily routine, I would find myself thinking of the so many things I wish I could do and could've done.

Isaiah 30:15 says, "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.'"

Oftentimes, we try to run so fast and so strong. We try to run after so many things to give meaning to ourselves and others. But instead of finding answers, we find ourselves wanting more control so we can manipulate our realities until we become so insecure of ourselves because we realize we can only do so much. For others, the answer is simple: just give up. And once the chasing ends, both those who insisted and those who called it quits will find that in the secret, darkest place of their being is an eerie reality of nothingness. A total black out.

We can fill our lives with accomplishments, relationships, fat bank accounts, good works, and even religion (or the none of it). Or we can trust God and enter into His rest.

I am not saying that idleness is a better choice. But whenever we trust in our own capacities, when we go astray in our hearts from what God is telling us to do, when we harden our hearts to what He is saying to us, we will never know His ways, which are always the better way. No wonder, a lot of us struggle and feel like pushing a big rock that never moved. We keep on pushing and are unable to enter rest because we do not believe what God can do for and on behalf of us.

I ended up not working for the next two weeks. Some of my schedules were a little bit behind my timeline but I am still fine. In fact, I never felt more relieved. For I know that, whether in the mountains and the valleys of my being, God is with and before me. There are no black-outs, no dead-ends. Only better and brighter days ahead.

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 7)

It's way past my "official" first anniversary in New Zealand. Yet, I haven't given the final item for my reflective blog series which I started two weeks ago. I didn't know it could be daunting to think of an object that would encapsulate an experience that is so big, ever-present, all-knowing yet gentle and assuring in so many ways.

I am talking about experiencing God in a whole new way here in NZ.

#10: The BIBLE

Food for the eyes, the body, and the soul.

Along with my 'valuable' items such as my worn-out old rose netbook, wallet, mobile phone and passport, I made sure that my Bible is in my hand-carry luggage on my way to NZ. Never mind if I lose my checked-in bag full of clothes as long as I have that good book with me on my first night away from home. That is how important my relationship with God is to me. And I think I am doing myself a disservice if I don't include Him in giving meaning to my one year here in NZ.

To begin with, going to a different country where you don't know anyone at all is a step of faith in itself. I admire the courage of the millions of Filipinos who immigrated to seek 'better opportunities' for their families and themselves. This is like having a clean slate and a fresh new start. But we all know that not everyone gets to have clean and fresh endings as well. If statistics and countless stories about the plight of Filipino migrants are to be taken, more have actually become worse after leaving the country.

This is where the importance of having an active - rather than a passive - faith, which is rooted in a living and growing relationship with God comes in. I mean, if you are in a new place, far from the unwritten restrictions that come with home-grown relationships, this 'new-found' freedom may appear to you as a license to do anything you want without regard for your loved ones back home -- who knew you before you left. And believe me, in a first-world country like NZ, it is easy to get carried away.

While I take into account the values of discipline, hard work, determination, and all those good ingredients for success, I think it all still comes down to one's worldview: What and how you think becomes your destiny. Because really, how can you keep the excitement of the first few months burning until the end of the year unless you are holding firmly onto something beyond what you can see? If I believe that there is God and that humans are meant to take in the same virtues of God (such as love and respect) because they are created in God's image, then it will be seen in my daily actions and decisions. Now, I am not saying that everything about my one year here in NZ was blameless. But that whenever I am presented with situations that would go against that truth, which will eventually ruin me in the long run, I step back and go to the Word.

Best birthday gift for 2013: A praying family. :)

And that just gives me clarity of purpose for why I am here and even encouragement that will strengthen my resolve to finish what I started here successfully. Words like "No one whose hope is in the Lord will ever be put to shame" (Psalm 25:3) or "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not need a thing" (Psalm 23:1) have been more than just Biblical verses but promises that have proven true in my life here.

Moreover, in my 365 days here, there were countless times that I just feel alone, despite having very good friends here (and granted that it is not readily obvious whenever I feel sad). The Word of God has been a source of comfort and security that no amount of shopping or exploring or endless eating/chatting with friends can give. Because really, it can get tiring. And there are times that you would just want to retreat and be at peace with yourself. But in a gloomy, overcast world that is Wellington, it is hard to just be alone. Various thoughts raging from silly to scary can come into your head. So what do I feed my mind with during those moments that I need to be quiet? Yep, the Word of God.

So as I bring this series to a close, I choose to give back all the glory to Him who has made my dreams come true. I choose to thank Him for bringing me here and for sustaining me for 365 days and more. I choose to recognize Him, for in those numerous moments that my perceptions of realities, wherein I hinged my judgment of what is right and true for me, are questioned and that I doubt even myself, "every word of (Him) is flawless; He is the shield that I run to" (Proverbs 30:5).

Thank you, Father, for all good things come from you. 








"God's word is alive and working and is sharper than a double-edged sword..." - Hebrews 4:12
"Be careful what you think, because your thoughts run your life." - Proverbs 4:23

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 6)

Exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was on my first-ever international flight alone to a country I have never imagined going to. This is so I could fulfill a dream that I have long and silently kept in my heart: getting a postgraduate degree abroad.

For someone who comes from a middle-income family and whose job is just enough to support our household and allow for a reasonable amount of savings, getting a postgraduate degree in another country is a long shot. No matter how hard I work, I knew I would not be able to save enough money to afford it. Hence, going back to the university and becoming a student once again (through the scholarship) were among the most defining things in my one year in New Zealand.

#7: THE UNIVERSITY

Victoria University of Wellington:
Blending in to more than a century of learning!

Anyone who knows me well understand my deep love and faith in our country, including its state universities. The talent and intellectual brilliance of our people make up for the lack in material and financial resources for what could be among the brightest academic institutions in Asia. So why bother studying postgraduate degree abroad when our university back home can give you that?

While others may quickly point to the promise of a gigantic leap in 'professional growth' (which is likely), this is not my main reason for studying outside the country. I have always believed that learning is highly contextual. The information you are given with is couched in a very dynamic political, social, and cultural intricacies that shape how you see and interpret the world. After being subjected to the Philippine educational system (although highly influenced by the Americans) for a good 17 years, I guess it's time to experience a different perspective and hopefully, through it, I will be able to see new possibilities. 

Possibilities. This is what my one year education in Victoria University of Wellington (VUW) has taught me. Keeping to the standards of being New Zealand's top-ranked university in research quality for 2013, I had to change the way I was taught to write. Instead of narrating my way to an argument, I had to start my papers with clear thesis statements. I had to concur, reject, support or refute ideas instead of just merely suggesting them. And unlike back home where there are 'right or wrong' answers, students here are only given the 'whats' so they can figure out for themselves the 'what ifs.'


It really helps to have open and accepting people
like them when you are in a foreign school.

Of course, for you to be able to change the way you write, you first need to change the way you think. This is also another thing I appreciate about studying abroad. VUW is host to international students from over 100 countries. Imagine interacting with a rich, highly-diverse and uniquely creative minds from all walks of life in a learning tradition that started more than a century ago. Truly, this has challenged and stretched me and my long-held beliefs (not to mention having to interact in the English language all throughout). I was exposed to worlds different from my own and because of that, I was braver to visualize a different Philippines.

My preconceptions and perceptions about the 'Westerners' have likewise evolved throughout the process. As I get to know them better (in class and during all-nighters in the postgraduate computer lab, cramming a paper - haha), I realized that they are not so much different from me. While cultural assumptions are still at work, I discovered that it all boils down to the Golden Rule: respect to be respected; love to be loved, and; most importantly, smile to be smiled at.

#8: (Living in a) FLAT

This was home during my first ten months in NZ.

Another wonderful thing that happened to me this year was to experience living in a student accommodation. When I was doing my undergraduate degree back home, our house was a 20-minute drive away from the university. So I never get to experience living with other students in a 'dorm' or a rented private house.

Although my two accommodations here in NZ have been under the university administration, it is still considered as 'flatting.' Flatting, or living in a flat, is renting a private room or a house and sharing the space with other tenants. In my case, I got to live with people I barely know and had to adjust to their ways and habits. I am fortunate because all of my flatmates have been very nice, responsible and easy to get along with (and by that I mean they are not heavy drinkers or smokers, they pay their rent on time, and are not grossly messy). Of course, we have our different standards of what is appropriate and clean, but at least, we communicate and everyone cooperates - two very important values in any relationship, whether among similar or different cultures.

Make-up session with Hailie (left) and Silati (right)

As a matter of fact, my first two flatmates, Silati (who is from Tuvalu, a country in the Pacific which I have never heard before) and Hailie (who is from Vietnam), have become like sisters to me. I lived with them for nine months and you could just imagine the bond that developed from being able to see them from the time they wake up to the time they go to bed. Talk about really close encounter with cultures.


#9: FOOD (a smorgasbord on a budget!)

Sunday market: Wellington's version of our Divisioria.
Cheaper fruits and veggies.

Another important cultural aspect, food has definitely characterized my one year here in NZ. With the independence and freedom of living on your own, I was on a food adventure trying out stuff that we don't have back home while keeping to my budget. (Yes, living on a budget is very important for students, especially those under scholarship. We don't really receive much, especially once the flat rent is taken out from your stipend. Housing here in NZ is ridiculously expensive - like $200/week for a decent room!) I actually do not know how many dishes I have created or modified (recipes from the Internet) just to be able to make use of whatever is in my pantry and to obey what I feel like eating that day.

Truly Asian: taking photos before eating! :)

But since I study in a multicultural environment, foremost in my very own flat, I also get to taste food I only see in travel shows (and some that I haven't even heard of). Nothing beats having authentic Vietnamese, Indonesian or Cambodian food with (and prepared by!) the very people from those countries themselves. Just think of the conversations spurring from that. Who needs an almanac or 'The Lonely Planet' now?

During those times, I would realize that the reason I wanted to study abroad is that I just don't want to know; I want to learn. And by that, I need to be open and vulnerable to things I thought I 'knew.' For until I know, I think there is no more reason for me to go back to the university and learn.

For my classmates and friends from the VUW's Development Studies department. :)

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 5)

We are halfway through this recollection of my first year here in New Zealand. Several days ago, I started writing to remember and give meaning to what has been one of the biggest decisions I have made in my life to date: leaving the Philippines.

As someone whose father is among the first influx of Filipino seamen in the 1970s who practically circumnavigated the world, I have learned - ironically through him - how to love my own country deeply. Although his photos and pasalubong would testify how better-looking some other countries were at that time, he would always affirm that there is nothing more beautiful than your own beloved land.

Hence, this recollection series would not be complete without mentioning how my life in another country has made me love my own more.

#6: FILIPINIANA (Philippine National Costume)

Still singing: At the 114th
Philippine Independence Day celebration

I have never worn my Filipiniana as often as I did last year. In fact, three hundred sixty-five days ago, at this very hour of writing, I was wearing the same Filipiniana for my last public performance before leaving the Philippines. It was to sing the theme song of a new travel show called "Kahanga-hangang Pilipinas" ("Amazing Philippines"). And it is just equally amazing that my first public performance here in Wellington was to sing the same song and mightily represent my country during the 2013 Southeast Asian Night Market!

Actually, this journey of my being an unofficial singing cultural attache started out on my second day here in Wellington. That's right. Funny how I envisioned myself to be low-key and to just hide in the library or quietly do my postponed and unfinished writing projects before leaving. But I think that's not the plan of the Lord for bringing me here. He wants me to instead shine, enlarge the place of my tent, and be a blessing to more people through this gift of singing.

Prior to coming here, I was thrilled to learn that the Philippine Embassy - New Zealand is just a few blocks away from my university accommodation. You see, I have never been to a different country on my own. My closest relative, which is my cousin, is in Auckland. And for first-time lone migrants like me, albeit temporary, the first and important thing is to establish a network of people you can connect with. They determine the reach and the depth of your stay in a different country. Hence, it was really a blessing from the Lord that, before leaving, I was endorsed by my previous boss to the Philippine Ambassador to NZ herself, Madame Virginia Benavidez.

Ambassador-slash-talent manager-slash-official mother

In fact, my very first itinerary in NZ, the day after arriving, was a courtesy call to the Madame Ambassador. It was my first time to actually come face-to-face with a highest-ranking diplomat so I prepared myself well. But I was surprised that Ambassador Benavidez is not your stereotypical envoy: she is warm, engaging, and attentive. That prodded me to talk about what I do back home, including singing. When I showed her the video of my last singing event in the Philippines, she became very excited. It turned out, she had been looking for someone to perform for the 2013 Southeast Asian Night Market! I made my 'debut performance' at Ang Bahay, the ambassador's residence, three days after I first met her and from then on, she proudly refers to herself as my "talent manager" (because she was the one who "discovered" me here!).

Doing my share in the 2013 local elections

That started my rather 'deep' involvement in various activities for and within the Filipino communities here. I even experienced counting ballots for absentee voting wherein I tallied over 600+ votes from 11PM to 2PM the next day! That elevated my respect for our teachers and COMELEC officers in the voting precincts to the roof.

More importantly, through the Philippine Embassy, I also got to meet a lot of Filipino migrants, among whom have been in NZ for the last 30 years. It is enlightening to hear their stories because they somehow have the same cultural background as yours against which they see and live in their new home. It becomes easier for me to ease into a new culture because of their stories.

What I appreciate most in Wellington is that, since the city is relatively small, the Filipino community here is pretty united. I saw this during their response to Typhoon Haiyan. While we never ran out of power struggle/politics, personality and character issues, and Filipinos who talk badly about their own people as if they were never one of them, I saw that there are still a good number that consider the best interests of the Philippines because it is still 'home.' I appreciated those that nevertheless try to incorporate the Filipino culture and language in their rather foreign homes. And I am still amazed at how some teenagers and young professionals, who practically grew up here, can still speak straight (and I mean without the Kiwi accent) Tagalog!

Filipino youth to the rescue: Typhoon Haiyan street appeal

And these are the people I chose to hang out with. It's wonderful because you will receive several invitations to lunch or dinner at their places. They would open their homes to you and even make you a part of their family. There are times that you just become exhausted of negotiating your identity with a new culture and that you just needed some time to share your own culture with. In practical terms, there are times I am just too tired to speak another English word or eat another slice of pizza. I wanted to laugh at Filipino jokes and eat my adobo. This is why, I find it irritating when some Filipino migrants would unwittingly talk against their own country because really, even if you have your new citizenship, you can never take away your being Filipino. If one would see it in another way, it might be that your rather unfortunate experience back home has made you the kind of person that you are, which might be useful in the new country that you are in. So why always blame and complain about the Philippines?

Can't imagine spending my first Christmas away from home
without you guys!

But to those who quietly and humbly work hard, doing their own little but significant ways in making their lives and those around them better - whether as (and for) a Kiwi or a Filipino - to them I give out my snappy salute. For them, I am going back home with a renewed passion to better my people because I know, in this part of the world, a fellow Filipino is doing the same.

Big love to my Filipino family here in New Zealand! :) (P.S. I really wish to show more photos of other Filipinos friends but that's gonna be an entire blog altogether.)

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 4)

Retracing my one year here in New Zealand would not be complete without talking about its natural terrains. My new habitat may fall short of the beautiful beaches that we have back home, but it has hills, parks, and walking tracks that are free and VERY accessible to all.

Hence, this fourth part of my blog series will be all about that concerning the wandering and the walking that has been my life here in New Zealand.

#5: WALKING SHOES


Ain't no mountain high enough?

Before leaving the Philippines, I was told by a missionary who lived in NZ that Wellington is really a hilly city. Despite of that, and probably because of the cold weather, people here love to walk nevertheless. So, I made sure to come with a good pair of walking shoes.

However, this pair only lasted for nine months. That is how I enjoyed walking here! (I once did a crazy 5-hour walk, which resulted in a swollen ankle. But the scenery and the sense of accomplishment were all worth it.) I could say that my love for walking and wandering was reignited here in NZ.

In fact, the addresses of my previous and current flats (the term they use for their housing here) have the word 'terrace' on it. And true to its name, these streets have forced me to walk uphill to uni and back for almost a year.

But what is there not to like about walking here in NZ? Fresh air, clean and green scenery, and friendly fellow walkers who will greet you as they meet you along the way. Besides, the walking tracks are very accessible and well-organized - they even have decent public toilets! Particularly in Wellington, walking has become incorporated in the city life that the city council designed a walking path which will allow you to explore the city by foot. This is called the City to Sea Walkway. It's a 12-km walk that takes around 6-7 hours but it can be done in stages. I have tried some stages but haven't finished the entire path yet.


Who wouldn't dare go crazy if only
to personally see and feel this?

Oftentimes, in my walks, I silently wish that the Philippines has the same. I think most of the problems we have within our homes and offices can be solved with people having the available option to go for walks and breathe some fresh air. It does really make a lot of difference.

If I were to have it my own way, I would go for walks every week or even during lunch breaks. But how can I do that when the nearest walking treks would be an hour (minus the traffic) away? And if there are pathways around, it would be amid smog and shopping centers, making you want to stay more in your office desk. Less expenses.

This is because to an extent, we are somehow defined by the place we are in. Here in New Zealand, I feel free and safe wherever and whatever time I walk. I don't have to think about kidnappers or pickpockets or communist rebels hiding in the bush. I find that people are more trusting of one another - even leaving their kids, as young as three, wandering around open parks or just go tramping (or what we call 'hiking') with them. Back home, kids are overly guarded and are even prevented to get out of their backyards or houses. Pushing it further, I would blame my being lethargic to growing up in this paranoid environment. Instead of being encouraged to discover and explore, you will first be warned. It should be the other way around.

And how can we reinforce the value of loving the environment if we don't get to be one with it? Again, I could say that my love for the nature and the animals was strengthened because I got to personally experience, interact and learn more about them here in NZ. In fact, today, I just stopped to pick up a very tiny hatchling (a duckling) I saw freezing on the streets on my way to the university, which I would otherwise ignore if I am walking in the streets of Quezon City.


Glittery boots: you know it's Asian! :p

I am not saying that there aren't bad people and that everything is so perfect and paradise-like in NZ(because they can really get drunk here and you wouldn't want to find yourself walking alone in town on a Friday or a Saturday night). But what I am saying is that it would do us a big help if we could prioritize our walkways, parks, natural gardens - especially within our cities.

Then, we could make use more of our well-loved tsinelas or what they call here as 'jandals.' From the words Japanese + sandals, this term was coined by one New Zealander who was impressed with the footwear of the Japanese swimming team that came to his country many decades ago.

And, if we have better walkways in the cities, that might just 'legitimize,' at least aesthetically, the wearing of boots - no matter how hot and humid it can get back home. :) 

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 3)

Three days ago, I started retracing my almost 365 days here in New Zealand. I talked about my main reason for leaving the Philippines, which is the NZ ASEAN Scholarship, and the top two things that help me overcome homesickness.

Since another strong earthquake (magnitude 6.3, depth of 27km) struck yesterday, I decided to talk about my "natural habitat," which I have become accustomed to over the year. However, I will not write about earthquakes since I already wrote about my first big earthquake experience here. Undoubtedly, it had a huge impact on what I deemed are most important to me and it made me realize how unprepared and ignorant I am for my own survival! (Except for the emergency bag, I still feel I lack the necessary life skills during times of disaster. That's another project for this new year, I think.)

So for this blog entry and the next, I will focus on the less demanding and easier features of how I deal with my new habitat.

# 4: SCARVES, COATS, AND OTHER WINTER CLOTHES

Aside from taking a selfie at the uni's toilet,
I hoped I look like a student in this white jersey.

At this same date last year, I was shopping for t-shirts and long-sleeve shirts with my sister. I aimed for a casual look in New Zealand as I was really looking forward to be a 'student' again. Besides, it is a wonderful opportunity for me to dress down after several years of trying to look 'professional' at work.

Obviously, this plan failed. With the nippy winds from the Antarctic that get into your bones, called the southerlies, which can also sometimes blow with a gust of 120km/h, I was only able to use my tees for the first two months. I ended up wearing the thermals I bought from Kathmandu and all my thick clothes, one on of top of another, for almost an entire year.

And this is exactly what I hated about cold weather: I feel heavy with all the layers of my clothes! Even back home, I am used to just wearing t-shirt and jeans. I find putting on layers of clothes, even bringing coats or jackets with me, too much of a hassle. But here I am, trying to dress like the Romans because I am in Rome.

Trying a new scarf style:
the European Loop

And while most people back home enjoyed - and even get excited - about having to wear winter clothes, I was not one of them. A cousin-in-law gave me bright-colored coats because I told her that 90% of the people here in Wellington wear black and gray. She probably got a little excited. Can you just imagine how I shine with an apple green coat when I walk in the city's business district?

Once, while walking home late at night, a fashionable gay with an afro hair gave me a second look when he walked past through me. He was probably 'amused' at my coat that he even suspended the phone call he was about to make (while walking) just to say: "Oooh, purple coat! I LOVE IT!" It was so random that I just didn't have time to talk back.

My new habitat also demanded that I learn new things, like putting on scarves and beanies (also called 'bonnets' back home). My Vietnamese flatmate, Hailie, had to teach me the European Loop, which is a lot tighter and thus provides better protection for your neck. Apparently, I only know of the style that you just loop the scarf around your neck and loosen it a little to allow air to pass through. Why would you do a European Loop at the tropics, anyway? (For those interested, here is a helpful video posted by a fellow scholar from Christchurch to show 25 different ways of wearing a scarf.)

All geared up to brave
through Wellington's elements!

I also never wore rain jackets as often as I did here. But umbrellas are useless in Wellington winds. So I had to buy one, which costed $99, one of the cheapest 'storm jackets' around. It has a hood big enough to cover half of your face (in the photo) as the direction of the rains can go anywhere because of the winds. It also has a lining garment underneath, which insulates your body temperature. On worst days, I would put this jacket on top of two thick layers of clothing. And honestly, I feel like an astronaut on those.

While this may sound trivial for some, these tiny changes in outfit have caused major adjustments for me. The beanie, for example, is associated with rappers and hip-hop followers on my part of the world (not necessarily the Philippines - I have my own world at times). So, it was a little difficult for me to look at the mirror and appreciate my face with a beanie on top of it.

Wellington is a very wet city and it didn't help that I am at my worst during rainy days. Because of my weird stride, I have the tendency to soil my pants easily. I also feel queasy whenever I get wet. Back home, coming to work all wet is embarrassing. Never mind that you go daily to the office with your wet hair as long as your clothes are ironed and dry. Weird.

I still feel uncomfortable wearing beanies.
I look like a Smurf - a gangsta Smurf. :))

But living in New Zealand for almost a year had taught me to just deal with it. It has freed me from the stresses I foolishly put on myself because no one really cares - not in the sense of the fashionable gay who greeted me, because really, we still need to look good. But as long as you are clean and comfortable (that is, prepared for the weather of the day), you look fine. 

I wouldn't say that New Zealand doesn't have those people who would rather look cool and be cold. Oh, they've got heaps, especially among the younger ones. But no, thank you. I prefer staying warm - and bright. Haha.

P.S. I'll talk about the footwear - the boots, the 'jandals' (what jandals??), and all that smelly stuff tomorrow!