Back to Manila

Things are about to change, are already changing, and have changed for some time now.

A simple line came to mind earlier, when I was about to disembark.
Something about not waiting for life to happen, because it's already happening as you wait. I'm sure the original line must have sounded or read in a more poetic manner, but anyway, that's the gist of it.

I'm still going to decide whether I'm going in to the office right away tomorrow, or if I'm going to take another day off. Or possibly a half-day. I'll worry about it in the morning.

Day 3 in Macau

Some things can't be escaped, it seems. I've tried facing it head on, walking in the eye of the storm, drenched and shivering to my soul, ready to give it away. It's no use, so I've decided to just stay out in the rain. Maybe it will help, even a little.

Today began pretty much the same way as yesterday. We started off with lunch at a Malaysian restaurant. It looked like a place where mob guys meet to discuss deals and hand over packages and pay outs. I had the Penang Prawn Noodle soup, a hawker dish that I was looking for a chance to taste for some time now. It was good, the soup not too spicy but also had a punch to its taste. After that we headed to the China-Macau Border Gate, to check out the shops and the sights in that area. My brother had me try a drink from a shop that called itself, "Comebuy". It was not unlike the drinks served at Quickly stalls. The gimmick was the same, the taste was good, but I can't compare it because I've never had one of those drinks before. The name of the shop itself was worthy of notice.

The shops we checked out were electronics stores, which sold mostly laptops and peripherals, and also the Esprit outlet in the area. Sad to say, I didn't find anything I wanted to use my pocket money on. Maybe tomorrow I'll find something. The next stop was the Fisherman's Wharf, near the Sands Hotel.

To be honest, the place was not really different from a theme-park like structure. Yet I found it to be quite beautiful, perhaps it had an appeal that I still could not describe. There were no rides, but the strip had a whimsical, light aura to it, and is also comparable to Bonifacio High Street. The difference probably is the fact that you could say it had the architecture of BHS, though not as wide, but it did not have the dead, concrete feel. It had character, it had feeling and not just a bare existence of being there. Unlike just having been built, the place felt like it grew on its own. One side of it was the strip, a row of shops and attractions, a casino and restaurants. On the other side was another row of cafe's and restaurants, with a view of the sea and the ferry terminal. It was scenic, relaxing and calming, and also quite a romantic place, I thought.
At the end of the line was the Rocks Hotel, which had an old English theme. I suddenly thought that if I was to book a place here in Macau, it would be that, or the Westin on the other island.

There was a peace in those two places, that I know I would crave for later on, once I get back. I only saw those places, stepped on their grounds for more than a few moments. But I tasted their auras, and it was enough for me to know I would want to go back, sometime.

Our next stop was the Sands Hotel and Casino, where my brother and I lost 300 HKD, without much trouble. My brother instantly herded me away from the place once the last of our gambling allocation was gone. He gave me advice about gambling, not too far from the usual line I'd hear from an elder telling someone younger. I know he's right, and I don't have any intentions at all of going back into gambling. Not that I was in it for much.

My brother next took me to the Venetian. It was a must-see, he told me. Once inside, I had to agree. The casino was larger than should be allowed. The canal shops, a long row of stores and restaurants with a venice-style body of water in the middle, was also a sight to behold. It was like being in a mall, yet with a bigger sense of grandeur. I stopped to buy myself some souvenirs at the souvenir shop. The pretty cashier convinced me to get another two products for a discount. I was easy. I talked to her a bit, not really trying to hit on her (she seemed like a local), but just to talk. Practice makes perfect, I always tell my applicants. She's never going to see or hear from me again anyway. What do I care if I make a fool of myself?

Later in the night, we headed to a party hosted by one of my brother's friends. I was just quietly sitting there, until someone handed me an xbox controller and put NBA 2k10 on the console. I played well enough to frustrate some of my brother's friends, even lighting a cigarette at the end of one game, as if to say, "that was goooooood." Mostly it was uneventful, and I only really wanted to observe them. I also found out that one of the girls my brother is hitting on is someone I had met long before. Small world.

They act pretty much the same way as me and my friends do. Reminiscing about past exploits and shaking their heads and sighing at old disappointments. They told jokes, talked about their absent friends, drank and flirted without malice. It seemed like a sign of hope, that maybe, me and my friends will be the same. It's going to take a bit more adjustment in terms of maturity and comfort, but pretty soon we'll all be that old. So we'll have to grow up if we just don't want to grow old. The age differences among them was also surprising. A few of them were my age, and the host of the party was actually celebrating his 40th.

Now, it's still not easy, going back to life tomorrow, once I step on the plane back home. But I'm still aching to go back, despite the pain and hurt that awaits me there. I haven't been away for long, but in a life ruled by routine, the past few days have been enough. I don't feel as sad or as devastated anymore, yet my mind keeps going back to her at odd moments. While walking around the wharf, the first thought in my mind was that I'd like to take her here sometime. It came with a jolt of pain, but it went away easily, with just a little push.

I'm keeping a list of projects I'd like to go into once I get back. Each one, I'd like to accomplish, but in what order I don't know. I'll figure it out along the way, seems like the best course of action. If I can't naturally be spontaneous and flexible, I guess I could start somewhere, by at least allowing a bit of randomness into my life, and learning to deal with it.

I know I'm getting better, just by the fact that I can listen to Adrian Gurvitz's "Classic" without my hand shaking. That and also knowing I can handle more drinks now.

"Since losing your love, I've been losing my mind."
Apt, yet also about to be irrelevant.

Day 2 in Macau

Today was a lot tamer than last night, if you could call last night wild at all. I woke up at about 1130am, without a hang over, and went online to talk to some friends. The memories of last night, arriving, touring around were still fresh, and the excitement of what lay ahead was already brewing within me. Still, I come from a family that runs on efficiency, putting things in the practical perspective and analyzing everything all the time. So my brother and I talked a bit about how we were going to go about the day. Eventually, we came up with a plan, and also planned to allow flexibility into it. If he all of a sudden realized there was a place I had to see that we did not include in the plan, my brother was going to take me there. How spontaneous can we Simons get, right?

Anyway, we headed straight to brunch, taking the bus to a square that seemed quite prominent. The name, Senado, Sedado, or whatever it was I can't exactly remember. The bus was not at all like the ones we have in the Philippines. There were fewer seats, and the drivers followed the rules about stops. You had to pay right away, and press a button if you wanted to get off at the next stop. It was quite a departure from the usual buses I encountered along EDSA, which always act as a source of frustration and annoyance for me.
Brunch was at a place called Dumpling Town, located in a small back alley, beside a camera shop. That was pang number one, reminding me of her right away. I shook it off and lit a cigarette, remembering that I can now smoke in front of my brother. The dumplings were really good, especially the shrimp one with peanut sauce and red vinegar. We ordered four dishes, a deep fried meat and chives one, the shrimp and peanut sauce one, a steamed carrot and shrimp puff and a steamed red bean one, very much like buchi without the sesame seeds. All of them were good, and even though they were just dumplings, they were also quite filling.
Walking around the square was a good way of working off the stuffed feeling. It also alerted me to a very serious thing about the people here: mababaho sila. Malamang nababahuan din sila samin, pero malala pa sa taong grasa ang amoy ng ilan sa kanila, kahit gaano pa kalinis yung itsura nila. Male or female, malala ang putok at anghit. Parang sinapak ang ilong mo at sinundot ang utak mo mula sa ilong.
We walked to St. Paul's Ruins, an old church that was apparently damaged during a war. Only the front of the church was intact. It was beautiful, and sad, like a deliberately left reminder of the pain they endured. I remembered thinking, is this the beautiful temptation that God is offering me now? Like the pinkish blue sky I saw more than five years ago now. Is there something I should be trying to appreciate out of the whole terrible mess I've been in lately?
I pushed the thought out once more and just enjoyed the sights, my brother taking pictures of me, trying to include as many pretty chicks in the background. We also saw the crypt and the bones of the old parish priests, kept in glass cases in niches in the walls. On the way out, we smiled as we were inadvertently included in the photos of other tourists. The place really is a ruin, with your pictures getting ruined as well by the number of extra people in it.
Next stop was the shopping square, where we checked out the goods on sale. Unfortunately, I was reminded once more of how the people smell, when we entered a packed shop that smelled like flatulence. I remember thinking that maybe it was a sales gimmick, particularly since that shop was a perfume store. Tourists would think they smelled bad, so they would buy something. It only worked to get us out of the shop as quickly as we could.
We walked and walked around, checking out the shops and the merchandise and taking pictures of the more remarkable structures. And also the number of pretty Chinese girls. Honestly, I've been afflicted with yellow fever ever since I started noticing girls, and my eyes were really full. My brother and I even followed a few of them around, and tried to include them in our photos. We had a few successes and a lot of frustrated moments, one of them pushing my brother to just take a picture of their retreating backs. At about five pm, we headed to a cafe in another alley, where we had egg tarts. The tarts were good, much better than the ones sold at lord stow's. The puff pastry was crisp, and the custard inside was warm and silky.
Next, we headed to the Grand Lisboa hotel and casino, where we walked around to take in more of the sights. The place had a lot of interconnecting walkways, one of them populated by a lot of very beautiful women who had nothing better to do but walk around. I remember thinking that it was getting hard for me to tell apart the hookers from the actual guests and tourists, when my brother told me that those women were indeed hookers. I was quite shocked at how many of them were just hanging around there. Some of them were just standing there, while the others were actually aggressive, stopping to talk to us in their native tongue. I was later informed that those women actually had rooms in that hotel, where they would take you to do their job.
From there, we headed to Fernando's, a Portuguese restaurant on another island, for a light dinner, since we were still full from the tarts and dumplings. I was probably unable to mention that here in Macau, they drive on the other side of the road. The cars were right-hand drive, and there were several roundabouts. The logic to the roundabouts was this: why put up a stoplight and construct an intersection, when you could just have a roundabout? It made sense to me.
We had the misfortune of taking a cab driven by an old man who smelled like he had never been introduced to a shower.
On the way to Fernando's, I got to see some beautiful scenery. The restaurant was located in an area of Macau pretty much like our Tagaytay. The area was colder, with a hill on one side, and a black sand beach. The beach was pretty much deserted, with no one swimming in it, just a few people walking along the shore. It was scenic and relaxing, a place you'd like to go have a picnic at. There were stalls selling souvenirs and barbecues. And there was Fernando's, the number one Portuguese restaurant in Macau. They had a policy not allowing take-outs and deliveries, saying that the food was only supposed to be served the way they would do it.
We had a salad and some shrimp, which was indeed good. The shrimp was served in a light garlic sauce, fried and crusted. The salad, was dressed in oil and was mostly lettuce, onions and very juicy tomatoes. Light dinner was right. After that, we headed back to the apartment to rest a bit before going for a drink.
We had drinks at the Hard Rock Hotel. I had my first taste of Macau Beer. It was sweeter than San Miguel beers, and had a bit of a kick at the end. We stayed there till about 1am, talking and watching people gamble, and also chatting up a waitress or two.
My brother asked me how I was finding Macau, if it was a place I'd consider living in. I told him I liked how quiet and orderly the place was, how the locals often just don't mind you and how you can keep your distance from the hustle and bustle of everyone else just by not breaking the language barrier. Then he told me about how different life is away from your own country, and how much of a sacrifice it is, just to secure a better life later on. That if I was indeed going to look for work here, I'd better be sure I can handle it. I told him I could. We also talked about Hong Kong, and that I should also take the time to see the life there. I was open to anything, I told him. It's just a matter of how well it would fit me. And how well I could do there.
A couple of drinks later, we called it a night. Surprisingly, the alcohol was having not that big of an effect on me already. Maybe it's just the place, the particular brand, or the whole fact that I've taken myself out of myself. I don't really know.
Tomorrow, there's still sight seeing and shopping in store for me in the afternoon. When the night sets in, we'll be heading to a party hosted by one of my brother's ofw friends. I'll get to see how they party. Maybe it'll provide me with some perspective. I don't know. I'm still taking stock of what living here will be for me.
Other things I've also noticed: you can smoke anywhere, and unless you're in a casino or hotel bar, they don't give you table napkins.
Another thing, last night, I had a strange dream.
It was the same situation I'm in, except in reverse. It was I who had sinned gravely, and everyone was angry at me. Nobody wanted to talk to me, nobody wanted to have anything to do with me. I only did what I wanted, and everyone got upset. The dream ended with no resolution, no clear ending of how things were going to be. Maybe it was foreboding, that there is no way to see the end of this but to see it through.
I've stopped trying to understand this whole mess, but it seems like my mind still wants to. An off switch is what I need. But there is no way it seems that I'm going to find that easily.
I just hope there better be more to this whole thing than just pain.

Hit the ground running

This is uncensored. This is no detail spared. This is nothing left out. I'm going to recount everyday I spend here in Macau, offering every thing I can remember as I write this down. I've always been secretive, always been the type not to volunteer information, whether trivial or vital. But now, who gives a fuck? I'm going to tell everything. There's no point in hiding anything, especially since I've been seen at my worst. Or at least, my most pathetic state. You need not hold back in your opinions as well.
Although recent experience has taught me not to put too much trust in the words of other people, or even in their apparent goodness, I'm still a fool who believes that you should get what you give to the world. So here goes. Thursday to Sunday in Macau, and you're all gonna read about it here, every night before I sleep on my brother's sofa.

After spending four hours at work, I started packing what I thought I would need for my stay in Macau. I brought a couple of notebooks, used ones with writing in them already. I packed and charged my netbook, which I'm using now. I packed three packs of luckies into my hand carry. Then I met Carlo at the Starbucks near Mapua Makati, where we had a short discussion about how things are. It's mostly the same, but I guessed what was important for him to see was how I was adjusting to recently received information. I think I'm doing fine, personally. At about 5pm, we were at the airport. He dropped me off and told me sincerely to take care and to enjoy myself. I told him I would.
Check-in was easier than I thought it would be. The only hassle I really encountered was the guard who suspiciously poked through my pack of cigarettes, and the distance between my departure gate and the only open smoking lounge. The flight itself, though filled with moments of turbulence, was fine. Though I was inside this huge metal vehicle, it still felt a little bit liberating, the sensation of flight. I fell asleep a few times, mostly due to exhaustion and boredom, but I would always wake up with a disoriented feeling. At one point, I thought I was simply in a cab, on my way to school, years ago. Then I realized I was in a plane with several strangers, two of them on either side of me. To ease his own boredom, I guess, this guy beside me started making conversation. To be honest, I didn't hear half the things he said, since the plane's engines were too loud. Still, I kept nodding and chuckling politely at the obvious points. Some time had passed when I realized he was talking about how God saved him when a truck had fell on him and almost cut him in half. That was certainly no laughing matter. No wonder he had a bemused look on his face when I chuckled. Yet he kept on talking to me anyway.
Eventually, the plane landed in front of the small structure that served as an airport for this territory. It wasn't until I was in the middle of the line for immigration, when I realized that I was in another country. I looked around, taking in the sights, and notice of this one particular sign they had on a wall. It read: Smart people see what there. Stupid people see what could be there. I don't know if it's a stab at irony, or just an expression of plain bluntness. Or it could just be extremely bad English. I never thought I'd see the word "stupid" on an airport sign.
Anyway, immigration was smooth for me. When it was my turn, the officer just scanned and stamped my passport then let me leave. It was easy enough for me to find my luggage, being conveyed around the airport. And then I met my brother outside.
The first place we went to was his apartment, of course. I stowed my things, washed a little, then we hit the ground running. We first had a late dinner at some place whose name I don't remember how to pronounce. I had the Portuguese Style Fried Rice, with some nameless beef and wonton steamed dish. My brother had Tsing Tao. I asked for the eel first, but the rare English-speaking waitress told us there were no eels left. The place we ate at was small, pretty much like the size of your regular carinderia with videoke. This one had no videoke, but had a flat screen TV on one wall, with a cooking show on. The patrons were mostly Chinese, having beer and noodles. There was also this young-looking guy, who had steamed vegetables and plain rice, which he ate enthusiastically. That all the more brought home the fact to me that I was indeed not in Makati anymore.
Walking around Taipa, the island of Macau we were on, I got to see the buildings and structures they had. The streets were small, but that was fine, since there weren't too many cars passing by. The cabs were right-hand drive, which really was disorienting. Stoplights were rare, so you really had to take care when crossing the street. Pedestrian lanes were patronized and used by pedestrians, not by jeep drivers trying to fill their 18-seaters. The streets were clean, quiet and orderly. The shops were already closed, except for the ones which catered to the gambling public.
Our next stop was Wynn Hotel and Casino. We were driven there by a cab-driver who was severely in need of a bath and a stick of deodorant, at the same time. At Wynn, we failed to catch the fountain show. We were able to catch the Tree of Life, though.
There was a round hole on the ground, with a hole the same size above. The one above was actually a screen which played convincing graphics with a 3D texture. The hole on the ground revealed the Tree of Life which was hidden under a dome. My brother handed me a coin to throw, so I could make a wish. The first thing that came to my mind, as I hurled the coin at the tree's base, was "I wish I could turn back time."
After that, we went to MGM Grand, where I won 36 HKD at the slots, and broke even at Big and Small. We also went to the Lion's bar, which my brother told me was a real popular hangout. A live band performed for and flirted with the crowd. We ordered one Jack and coke each while we took in the scenery. So many women, breaking away from work, just trying to relax. My brother said "hi" to a strange woman sitting at the bar beside us. She greeted him back, but left to join her friends not long after. I said hi to some strange girls as well, which wasn't hard, but just felt weird. When we finished the drinks, we had trouble deciding where to next.
We found ourselves at a quiet strip of establishments, quiet mostly because business was not as good. They were the kind of places you won't go to if you were female, unless you worked there. To be honest, it was quite tame. No stripping, no nudity, just girls dancing in skimpy clothes, revealing a lot. We entered one establishment that had the promise of having one of the famous Russian girls performing there.
Inside, it seemed quite dead. The place was cramped, with a converted-chapel type of feel. The arches were awkward, and the spacing was inefficient. We ordered drinks and waited for the performance to start, along with the other customers there. The only two other tables occupied, I mean. By this time, I was almost drunk.
The first girl to dance was someone who didn't really seem to have her heart in it. She bent and twirled, stiffly and with no grace. She was one of the two Mongolians to dance before the lone Russian.
The next Mongolian, though, was the real star. She called herself Stacy. She wasn't stunningly pretty, but she had a cute face and nice curves. And when she danced, she danced with everything. Her body shook and gyrated, her hands went up and down her torso slowly, she bent over and showed her ass like she enjoyed it. Her facial expressions were more than alluring. In my drunken state, I noticed I began to shake and felt goosebumps on my skin.
Stacy, it seemed to me, exuded sexy. Sexy was a role she could play effortlessly.
The next dancer, the Russian, paled in comparison to her.
True, her face was more beautiful, her breasts were fuller and her ass was fairer. After Stacy though, the Russian was disappointing.
There were only three dancers tonight. My brother and I stayed long enough to see Stacy dance again. When her song was over, I was already sobering up. We left, and headed back to the apartment, where I revealed to my brother that I have been smoking habitually for some time now.
Tomorrow, we're going to do some wholesome sightseeing in the afternoon. Once the night comes, we'll probably head for one of the many places to drink, with or without entertainment. I think I'd like to see Stacy dance again.

I keep telling myself I'll be fine, but somehow, it doesn't seem to be panning out the way I want it to. It's been getting worse, and I can't say for sure how long I'll be able to hold on. Hell, I can't even be certain that I haven't let go yet.
Tonight was the first night I had on my own and it was a bad idea to bring a car. I think at least it was. Nothing happened, no accident or close call even. It just wasn't a good idea to leave the decision all up to me, of which way to turn and where to go. It was default settings, at first, but to tell the truth it was very hazy after.
After over an hour, I'm not sure, I ended up just walking. It's not important where to, but it is just enough to tire me out. When I finally thought I should go to the car, I noticed I was drenched in sweat. Then I started driving. Around and around. I did not know where I was going, nor what I was going to do. I knew I just needed to move. I could not stay put.
Eventually, I was back home.
This may seem like a cry for help. To be honest, I know I need it. I'm not that strong after all. But I'm just too fucking proud to call out for it. This was my first night alone, and I was determined to keep myself from asking someone to be with me.
Now I know it was a mistake. I don't really want to impose my dreary self on other people, least of all someone who no longer wants to have to do anything with me, but maybe, tonight, going it alone was a big mistake. It may be the first of many that I'm going to allow myself to do.
I'm not sure if anyone is going to see this. And there's really no point in it anymore. Since it may all be too late.
I've given my answer to the call, that is, if there really is a call. I'm hoping there isn't. Sincerely, I wish there's no way what I did will work. But I've gone to this end, so I hope it will end up fine after all.
Anyway, if it has, I know there's always a way back.
I know, some things will just change, no matter what you do, or no matter how much you don't want it to. I can always take back what I said, even if it was uttered in such style with a soundtrack and all.
Let's hope that if I wasn't strong enough now, I'll be strong enough later.
For tonight, I'll keep my fingers crossed. I'll rest up, and pray that I'll make it through.
Paalam.
At Magandang gabi.