channeling beauty

[[string:by2:upsilamba outpost banner

You will find these stone carvings on the pillars that welcome you to the tomb of the most hated emperor in Vietnam. I treasure most the feel of the crevices that make the ornate shapes. You can find plenty of these in museums but here out in the open sun dismissed as old and unimportant I run my hands through the surface hoping to channel the craftsmanship of artists long gone into my own. I particularly love the cloud themes.

gigi

[[string:by2:oh i want to feel what she is feeling

[[string:by2:so thrilled to be photographed

[[string:by2:oh i want that inner knowing

i don't really know her name
but i think i'll call her Gigi
look at her here
feeling pretty
and rightly so

she makes me smile

One Day

Dusk at at the Citadel, the ancient fort, the two kites are the holdout to the day's kite runners. I sit at the hot cobble stones. I watch that boundless sky attempting impossibly to make out the thin string that holds them to the ground and the young boys whose mothers I'm sure were calling them for dinner.


It's as if one says to the other one day one of us will be lost to the other. It had always been you (lost) to me but this time it's different. Grace says it best.


One day
one of us
will be lost
to the other

this has been
talked about but
lightly turning
away shyness this
business of con-
fronting the
preference for
survival

of course I
want you in the world
whether I’m in it or
not your spirit
I probably mean

there is always
something to say in
the end speaking
without breath one
of us will be lost
to the other

-Grace Paley

Ah Vietnam!

hi!

Did I tell you I went to Vietnam? I did. Sort of on a whim which is the best kind of travel. Vietnam is an unlikely destination for me. I never would have even thought of going but now having seen it, I couldn't imagine not ever having gone. I'm working on pictures of which there are far too many (14GB), but here is one that I know in my bones will be a favorite.



We were in a tiny village, no more than a dozen houses, getting our flat tire fixed. I think she was summoned to witness the commotion of strangers visiting their tiny enclave with cameras to entertain. She inched slowly out of this house, curious but uncertain. It took some doing but I finally got her to smile.

Well, sort of.

More soon. I promise,

ashima

elsewhere

Early Sunday morning, I take my place in the usual left seat by the cafe table in my kitchen and I make myself a cup of coffee and go somewhere, elsewhere.

Camiguin

I long for better weather. Right now it is snowing and it is 8 degrees outside. My roommate is sick and so am I. I caulked the front bay windows shut, sick of having to always pull the drapes leaving the room in darkness. Beneath my desk is a small space heater to bring in the necessary heat for my toes are freezing. I wish I could take off my frozen socks and dip my feet into the waters that bound Camiguin's White Island, a stretch of crescent-shaped white sand bar in the middle of the Bohol Sea.

Goodbye, my banner year!

This was my banner year. I took a chance and chance took me by surprise. What is most amazing to me is that I am exactly where I was when I left---the same house, the same job, the same friends, always the same family though happily now more extended (hi amy!)---but everything is different because I see it with new eyes and isn't that all there is sometimes.

Imperatives

We happenned upon this by the pier of Coal Harbor, Vancouver Canada. I love it! A slide frame attached to the post with metal garden wires. It swung gently to the wind and caught my eye and I smiled when I saw those words. I love this. Such a good use of the imperative sentence which had been relegated to all things boring and tedious. And what a waste! Imperative sentences have such powerful impetus yet we have reduced it to be, essentially, the language for chores. Wash separately, the tag on your clothes would say for example.

Think! If we applied this intense construction to the business of our lives, think of what we could do. Imagine how brave we would be.

So genius an idea, I think I'll do the same in Chicago when I get back. Maybe in some small way some I can repay the same person who gave me the delightful gift of humor and wit on a sunny Friday afternoon by giving yet another unsuspecting person the opportunity to find themselves peering contentedly in the distance and in their own lives.

So dear reader, I invite you to think in imperatives, even for just a day, and then see what happens. Read intently. Love unabashedly. Floss precisely. Peer contentedly!

The Big Life

We somehow think that time is this definable, countable, universally acknowledged, immutable entity. We mark our lives by it, laying down signs at various intervals on the linear highway that is our life. We have devised ingenious systems for its measurement, the magnitudes neatly stacked and pegged between colons to signify the hour, the minute and the second, synchronously knocking on each other. Move up one, Mr. Hour. You’re up! Then something happens to throw that whole linear perspective in a curve. You meet your old college roommates and in passing they tell you that Denise is now in college and you just about spill your coffee at the thought. You say: Hold up! Let’s think about that for a minute. Denise is now in college. Denise is the little baby girl you used to watch endlessly for hours spinning like a top, boundless energy and cheeky smiles all over. Yes, that Denise. That Denise is now in college. You feel your mile markers being compressed into a zip drive. Where did your life go? What is the parallel to Denise going to college. You calm yourself down and let that one, like all others, pass. Then you hear another news. Bob Barker retires from The Price is Right. You don’t know why but this seemingly inevitable fact has the magical effect of pulling the entire decade of the 80's right under you. You remember those days when you and your siblings find a spot on the big bed in your parent’s bedroom and you chime in on what you think is the current price of gum or bleach in some foreign country you’ve never been but somehow feels familiar with. You imagine yourself coming on down to be the next contestant to bid on the ultimate showcase which for you had always been that snazzy trailer. Oh that trailer! That beats that makeshift half teepee you fashion out of bed sheets and fasten between jalousie panels where you and Eneen practiced being homemakers. What a life! Imagine. You could live anywhere if you had a trailer. Anywhere! You don’t know exactly because the farthest you ever went was the border of your town and city and that was nowhere really but just having the sheer ability to do so was just enough to make you giddy. And that this thing has a working toilet and refrigerator was just the neatest thing you could ever imagine. Imagine.

Instead I dug a hole in the ground and there dropped the anchor. I live in a house with no wheels and I love it but sometimes I still dream of the open road the unknown and exciting life it conjures in my head. I want the Big Life. I want the pimped out Airstream that DWR says is within my reach. Look! That shape. That shimmer is just enough for me to leap against the echo of those words: Come on down, you are the next contestant on the Price is Right.

Things that make you go oooh!

This is my favorite tab in my spanking new organized system of folders. I hope to expand this travel section to include such places as Mozambique, Senegal, Batanes.

{ grid 005 }

Karkarol. A town fiesta in Silang, Cavite, Philippines. Filipinos love parades. They celebrate sad and happy events with one.

{ grid 004 }

1. pamansingan ni ka nando
2. hook me up
3. got one
4. tilapia

I grew up in a fishing/farming village in Obando, Bulacan. Up until the 1980s Obando was still provincial, but it's close promiximity to the capital Manila has changed the demography and landscape of this once sleepy and homey town but still some elements remain. I learned fishing from my Lolo Marcial. He made us fishing poles from bamboo and gave us rusty tin cans to fill with squirmies that we would uncover from the old adobe steps that led up to his house. He had a palaisdaan much like this one and he would take us on a boat that was always half sunken in water out on the middle and let us have a go at his fish stock, mostly tilapia, fortunately my favorite. One rule however was that whatever we caught had to be bigger than the palm of his hand. It was a tough lesson to learn. I had the attention span of a wasp and I'm fishing and it takes hours and when you finally catch one imagine how devastating it is to have to throw it back so it would grow to its full potential. I don't think I even understood the idea of potential at the time. That's a hard lesson to learn, but it's an important one and one that I will always remember my Lolo for. That's my Lolo Marcial. He was a good man.

{ grid 003 }

1. flowers from a summer garden
2. my mom loves orchids
3. i'll carve a sea shell someday
4. i'll be back soon

1. Last summer, I got hooked onto apartmenttherapy.com and one of the lessons is to have fresh flowers in your house. I've always thought of flowers as luxury items and I don't like fake ones so the middle ground is having nothing. But fortunately I have my neighbor D. who taught me how to make simple flower arrangements from plants in our own garden. Here my first attempt from last summer.

2. My Mom loves orchids. Nothing else brings her more joy. Really.

3. Sea shells are the perfect example of organic symmetry. I have a design book that has a mathematical, geometrical explanation to the structure of a seashell. Someday, I will carve myself a seashell and wear it around my neck to remind me of that beautiful sunset in El Rio Y Mar where this particular one came from.

4. The cabana at el rio y mar is the perfect spot for a nap. I will come back soon.

{ grid 002 }

1. bulacan, philippines
2. prague, czech republic
3. la cinque terre, italy
4. chicago, united states

Clouds are curious things. They embody mystery, majesty. They inspire stories, invite whimsy, dreams. They remind you that you have this body organ called lungs that are meant to be vessels of air just as clouds are vessels of air and water. I love them. To me, they are one of few equalizers in this world. No matter where you are, no matter who you are, when you take the time to look at clouds, you are taken to some other place. Clouds don't discriminate. It puts on a show be it those who live on brick homes or patched up plwood. They conjure fluffy sillhouttes of our favorite animals, be those the hard at work carabao or the entertaining poodle. There are so many differences between worlds and cultures, but these clouds remain the same everywhere. Clouds remind me I am only one of the very many and that that's not a bad thing.

For the time being I am...

Reading a book in the early morning light at the balcony of our home. Coffee with Amy and Ton. A quick lunch at Cafe Bola with Tita Chulia who is lovely and graceful in her years.

Met Wena and sat in on a copywriting class at the College of Fine Arts in UP Diliman. The professor was brilliant, quick thinking and mesmerizing. He can listen with intent as a student presents a two-minute product schpiel, distill that presentation to a germ of an idea, compose a thought and plan a strategy to convey that thought all while checking the fall of his bangs on his forehead. I was gushing by the end of the class. I inspect the students as they make their way to their seats. Aside from Wena, the outlier, the average age is probably 17. Imagine yourself at this age, the pimply, wormy version of you that belabored the coolness factor of a pink shirt and a mullet. I remember. A young woman passes by that could have very well been me 15 years ago---blue jeans, white shirt, short hair. I smile at the thought that I was once this small, this young, this petite, this unsure, this arrogant. This. They don't look old enough! At least, not old enough to know about subversive strategies for writing headlines for an ad campaign and yet they do. I'm impressed actually. Hear their ideas: a pocket videoke called Hymnos, a text illuminator called Lucente, and magic water called H21. Oh my pride! UP is brilliant still. Despite the dilapidated buildings, the holes in walls, the peeling paint, the scrappy yards, UP is still brilliant. What relief! What hope! Finally one for the side of the folded paper marked PROS.

We live in the details

It is 4:59 AM on January 8 and as the plane was landing on the runway, I was thinking that for the first time in ten years I'm celebrating my birthday at the time zone I was born in. It's a small detail, but it's an important one. My brother was at the airport to meet me. He looks good, older, more mature. We drove though Roxas Boulevard just as the city was waking up from its short slumber humming of crowing roosters, the tentative blows of jeepney horns and the slow roar of engines revving up for the day's journey through heavy traffic, skinny streets and dense pedestrian lanes. It is a schizophrenic mix that could make a good sample for a new Justin Timberlake album. The city is gray from the dawn and grime. Manila Bay looks quiet, tired, unmoved. Despite the early hour, already there are hundreds of people on the road---students are walking to school, peddlers are loading up their goods onto shaky rickshaws that they plow through town, bystanders are smoking away a lung and a half. Because of the early hour, we cruise past the city and drive through my town. We drive past the arch that welcomes me back and I am filled with nostalgia for a time when the basketball court was not yet flooded, the plaza expansive and filled with kids playing moro-moro, the river clean and thriving with fish, the fields ripe for harvest with rice and tomatoes and squash. Now I hardly recognize the way. I can't make out my usual signs home anymore, the scrolly gates of Dr. Eddie's house, the basketball court, Shelky's. It feels familiar but strange. The houses are rundown and exhausted from its fight with the river that continues to swallow the land to make a swamp of it. I tried to make out the faces of the people, to see if I knew them. I saw my elementary science teacher. She still wears her hair the same way, a short cut that is clipped by the ears. If I close my eyes, I could still see the pink church towering over my young self and my friends and I are barefoot playing Chinese Garter at the plaza. Why do we long for change and yet fear it? This town, just like me, has changed. In many ways this is not home anymore but I know this: I will forever trace the spirit of home from this place. (Always Mom, I promise.)

I met my friends in the city for dinner later that night. They arranged a surprise party for me. Wena is the one I see first at McDonalds at Rockwell. She is wearing jeans and a striped blue shirt. She is thin and compact, unchanged. At our moment of recognition, it is hard to believe its been close to a year since I had seen her last. It doesn't feel like a year, much like the year before when I saw her and we hadn't seen each other in seven. Pretty soon the gang arrives, and one after the other it is the same. Gabs still has the permanent smile and serious consitution, Jecee is beautiful and cool and collected, John is steadfast and calming, Clark is beaming from a new happy marriage, Eline is youthful and engaging. Years dissolve to nothing and we meet as if we had just seen a movie last week and we banter about our tendencies and usual foibles. Yet we are not completely unchanged by the years. There are new people in our lives. Confident Suki is Gab's better half and sweet Jen is Clarks and we feel a kinship to them as if we had known them all our lives. There are moments so sweet you can't believe you are part of them. This is one of them. I've had quite a few of them recently. I am grateful. I don't take it lightly. On nights when my prayer is unhurried and earnest, I sincerely say thanks for among these friends, the grimy, dense, gritty city becomes a verdant meadow and blue skies hover above, ready to entertain with images of an impromptu movie of sea turtles chasing pirate ships. Life is full of possibilities.

Birthdays invite a retrospection that could either make you see the glass half full or half empty, a view that offers such a limited view of our collective life ---"...our singularity, importance, complexity, love." I love the austerity and ambiguity of this moment, that it is both beautiful and sad at the same time. I am not afraid of this kind of sadness anymore. I am humbled by it. It reminds me of what is important like home and family and great friends and a memory of a life so good, it hurts, sometimes, to remember.

Cheers! and Sadness

I went to a jazz club tonight with Martina. It's my last full day in Prague and I spent the day wandering around the city, tracing my now familiar route in between the different districts. While waiting for my tram, decidedly sad, someone came up behind me and asked me for directions and I had an instant fix of glee. I must not look so lost for this man to ask me where the Metro station was. He was puzzled. Oh it's an easy mistake, I say. This is MalostransKE Namesti. You are probably looking for MalostransKA which is the tram stop for transferring to the Metro subway and if you follow the tram tracks, it will lead you to it, it's the next stop. Off they go. And then I hop on the next tram which turns out to be the wrong one, the #22 (I was supposed to take #12). I was so smug with my direction giving, I didn't bother looking at the signs. I hopped out of the tram when I realized my mistake and found myself at Narodni Trida train station. No problem. I know this will take me to Smichov where I can then pick up my missed #12. There are not enough words to describe the irony that the moment you feel you finally got the hang of a place is exactly the time you also must also leave it. Life is funny that way.

The language continues to baffle me. I can't make any real connections with the words other than those I know by rote. Na zdravi (Cheers!) sound so much like Nadrazi (train station). Although I must say when I find the right train station for where I want to go much like ealier, I do feel like pouring myself a pint of their fine Pilsner Urquell, holding out my pint in the air and saying Nadrazi! I'm going to miss Juraj and Martina and Estee. I'm going to miss this place.

Castle Quarter

A truly gorgeous day in Prague. Decided to make it a Pradskyhrad (Castle Quarter) day. Seems like a nice day for castles and this being the land of the castles only makes it more appropriately so. I hop on a tram to Poholerec and strart my day at the Monastery. Skipped the library and instead went for the gardens that promised a view that did not disappoint. There is the Prague Castle on the horizon towards the left and below I could pick out the Charles Bridge and Mala Strana on one side and Stare Mesto on the other. The promontory has a garden that winds down. I sit here for a while and imagine living in one of the homes by the promontory with this amazing view. What a view. I head for the Castle guided by the Spires of the St. Vitus Cathedral, passing through Loretta Square on the way. I stopped to check out the St. Loretta Church and was disappointed that you had to pay to get in. I am starting to have a very strong opposition ot churches that require admission. I mean it's a church first and foremost, yes? As I was walking away though, I hear the melodic church bells and I am grateful for the sweet memory of its sound. I trudge on and follow the streets further and a few street turns later, there is Pradzky Hrad, the babička all castles. The Castle grounds is home to the Old Royal Palace, the St. Vitus Cathedral, the Basilica of St. George. Everyone is walking around with heads craned upwards. It is dizzying. The largeness of the space is intimidating, so i chose to focus on St. Vitus Cathedral. This church is chokful of ornamentation. There are sculptures of vultures, monsters and distressed men and women jutting out from every corner of each column. It's actually quite scary and I wonder why a church would choose such an approach. Not exactly very welcoming. Makes me think of What Would Jesus Do campaign. I am not kidding. What would Jesus do? I have absolutely no idea. Inside its more solemn. There's a stained glass by Alfonso Mucha that is beautiful. I hilke the 287 steps up the tower and the view up there was worth each step. Below the tourists look like ants making bee lines through the massive grounds. I stay here a while trying to pick out the sights I've been to throughout the city. I even attempt to sketch a portion of the cathedral spires.
ěčšřžýáíéúůóťďň

Name My Blog: Estee

I totally chickened out and didn't venture out today. Instead, I re-watched episodes of my favorite cheesy Filipino soap opera, Maging Sino Ka Man and attempted to make adobo and failed, and read blogs. I won't even attempt to try to give you a range of the topics out there, just that there are so many. So here's a game I'd like to call Name That Blog where you think of a good name for a blog of someone you know. For example, here's Estee. There is not a day that goes by that this girl is not wearing anything pink. Therefore, I nominate the name Pink Is Not Not My Favorite Color. The double negative is a nod to her genius parents.

Český Krumlov