Deck the halls, part 2

Deck The Halls - Bella Voce

In the Philippines, my family would usually put up Christmas decorations about a week after All Saints’ Day (November 1). From the storeroom my father would bring out the boxes that held the Christmas tree and the trimmings from the previous season. The plastic tree, which had been washed and dried before being stored in January, would undergo a quick clean-up (dusted off, put under running water then dried). After this the tree would be erected. I was usually in charge of the trimmings. I got final say on the theme/color scheme of the trimmings, the choices of which often baffled my dear mother. Case in point: in 1999 I chose blue and silver. She was doubtful and wasn’t too sold on the concept (and result). Years later the motiff became popular and she realized we used before it became the fad.

Going the unusual path to Christmas decorations is not difficult to do in Manila because there’s a lot of choices in stuff to buy. And if one cannot find it in stores, one can easily make decorations to one’s specifications. Raw materials are also abundant. I often made our own decorations from materials that weren’t commonly associated with Christmas. There was one year when I used the left-over materials from wedding souvenirs; when it ran out I just rushed to Divisoria to get some more and we had some sort of ’springtime in December’ motif.

It is different here in Phnom Penh. Christmas is not a holiday in this Buddhist country so finding Christmas decorations is quite daunting, especially 3 years ago. I remember buying my first Christmas tree in 2005 in a supermarket that catered to French expats. Things are increasingly becoming more available now, either because of the increasing influence of foreigners or more Cambodians are converting to Christianity. Like Valentine’s Day before it, Christmas is fast becoming a popular holiday among Cambodians. Though I doubt if they fully grasp its religious meaning. Heck, this is elusive even for Christians so I’m not one to judge.

This year I wanted to trim my Christmas tree in the company of friends, as I did last year (chronicled HERE). Like the annual Christmas tree trimming parties at HoJ (please see previous post), I did it on a smaller scale last year. However, I realized that many of my guests last year are gone: some have gone back to the old country (Ted & Hav, Wowie, and Nill) while some are no longer my friends (no more names–let’s keep this post happy). There are other people I can invite but I couldn’t seem to find a convenient time to fit our (my friends and I) hectic work schedules.

Last weekend I was chatting with a new friend and we were talking about decorating for Christmas. T was reminiscing about past Christmas in the Philippines (it is his first Christmas here) and I said if he wanted, he can help me with my tree. Prior to this, I asked him to check my tree because I thought it stood crookedly taht I wanted to buy a new one. He actually saved me money by ‘properly’ erecting the tree. I decided an all-white motif this year. Kind of like a winter wonderland without the snow (including pretend-snow), the Ice Queen without the sleet (go figure), with a bit of the White Witch (a la Tilda Swinton in The Chronicles of Narnia) thrown  in for a bit of naughty to go with the nice.

So last Tuesday afternoon we set to work. We had purchased the materials we needed the day before. I was using most of the materials from the previous season as well so we didn’t buy as much as I had anticipated.

We wound the white Christmas lights around the tree. I then strung crystal beads (which were actually buttons) together while T put the balls and other trimmings on the tree. I have a lot of red Christmas lights from last season and I originally didn’t want to use them this year but T had other ideas. He put them on the floor of the foyer. When he lit them, the effect was nice. We joked that the foyer now looked like a bordello. I imagined exclaiming a la Vincent Price, ‘Welcome to Hell!’ to our future visitors. Against the brightness of the Christmas tree in the living room, the red lights in the foyer made it seem like going through hell to reach heaven. But I think I overinterpreted this (no surprise there).

T and I finished around dusk. We lit up the tree while drinking coffee and like last year, I think I achieved the effect I wanted. The effect became more wonderful at night, because the tree was simply aglow. The white Christmas lights were marvelous but the silver balls, disco mirror balls, and crystal beads bounced the white lights beautifully. In close-up, the details of the tree were so pretty (it gave of an almost-alien landscape vibe) I made it the wallpaper in my desktop computer.

Yesterday, T and I completed the decor by hanging garlands in the doorframes. We decorated the garlands with the same decorations in the tree. I also placed a few pieces around the house to tie the theme together. So there, I’ve decked my halls. I just hope my room-mate approves when he sees this upon his return to Phnom Penh this December.

Deck the halls, part 1

Deck The Halls

Yesterday I went to my friends’ house to participate in their annual Christmas tree trimming. It’s the third time that I had joined in this activity, which goes like this. It’s actually very simple. Days before, an inventory of Christmas decorations is done to plan the current year’s color theme. Then people are invited. They set up the tree and the lay the rest of the materials. One household member usually takes the lead, the past years it has been Mz Oh. But since she’s now in the Gobi desert, fiercely trying to tan her mestiza complexion (hehe), Tito Gar has taken her place.

People like me come: our eagerness to help and to catch up with friends while working are only equaled (if not surpassed) by our anticipating on what good food awaits us. And before the day, afternoon, or evening is over, voila! the tree is done!

This year the usual suspects were present: Tita Lou, Tito Gar, Tita Sonia, Doc Marisa,Tita Purit, Lala, Bea, Ale, Tita Aviic, moi, and Badette — who was fashionably late.

But before the work started, we were first fed, HoJ style: Spaghetti with Bolognaise sauce, chicken lollipops, taco shells with beef strips and carrots & onions. Plus the ginataan for dessert was simply scrumptious! yummy!

Next week, I’ll pay attention to my own Christmas tree. I’m wondering how to do it now, but my friends will surely be helping me to complete the task of decorating. And of course, I will chronicle it here.

The long way home

The Long Way Home - Norah Jones

It is past midnight. In a few minutes I’ll have to be asleep because I need to wake up by 5AM because we need to go to a market near the border before 7AM.

Yesterday morning I traveled to Tay Ninh to meet with IOM Vietnam, the research agency handling the data gathering, and to observe at least 2 FGDs (focused group discussions) among the respondents. Tay Ninh is a province located in the border of Vietnam and Cambodia. Tay Ninh is the site of a survey that IOM Vietnam commissioned. This survey is being done on both sides of the border: Tay Ninh in Vietnam and Svay Rieng in Cambodia. I signed up to write the survey reports of both countries.

I was billeted into this old hotel; I’d estimate its age to be probably, at least 40 years old. The architecture is Communist Deco (the term is my invention, perdona)… the kind one typically sees in Communist countries: very utilitarian, with little flair.

The walls were originally sandblasted but has been painted white to dispel the dinginess brought by years of grime and dust. The hotel looked a bit like those old hospitals in horror movies.

The rooms are sparse. I was relieved to see that the toilet flush, tap, and shower worked. No bidet though, as I’ve been used to seeing. 

Last night I observed the first FGD. It was held in one of the offices in the border. I didn’t take any photos of the actual FGD for ethical reasons. But here is a photo of the building where the FGD took place.

In my opinion, the border processing center looks better at night, as this photo shows.

A meeting after the FGD ended at around 8.30PM, and we faced a 45-minute drive to the town proper. When we got there, the restaurants were mostly closed. We ended up eating Pho Bo (beef Noodle Soup) in a small eaterie a few meters from the hotel. The soup was awesome; I learned it was Hanoi-style. When I got back at the hotel, I had a fitful sleep. I don’t clearly know why: I don’t scare easily but there was something unsettling about the room.

7AM and we’re in the market. We failed to get anything for breakfast. The morning’s FGD was with the Cambodians who cross the border daily to work in Vietnam. I was surprised when I found myself understanding the discussion, to the extent that I was even translating some of the words to the IOM staff. My speaking remains very basic, but my comprehension is better, I think.

When we got back to the hotel, we ordered some fried noddles for brunch. So I won’t be too hungry when I travel. By the way, the only nice thing about this hotel is its access to technology. It has cable TV and free Wi-Fi, hence I am able to blog while here, waiting for the car while a wedding reception is in full, noisy swing in the hotel lobby.

If you like funny signs, take a close look at the trash bin pictured below. Take note of the brand, the logo, and most of all, the tag line. Just click the photo for a closer look.

Post-script:

By 12.30 I was already at the Vietnam-Cambodia border, the driver of IOM Cambodia waiting for me on the Cambodia side. After a quick processing of my passport & documents, we were traveling steadily back to Phnom Penh.

Unpretty

Unpretty - TLC

If Phnom Penh were a high school, then they would be the popular kids; an elite group of people who can always be seen hanging out in the coolest bars, dining out in the most expensive restaurants, laughing gaily, being raunchy and respectable in one breath.

At least, this is what they like other people to think. Or how they probably see themselves.

But as with any other form of polished existence, it is interesting to look underneath the veneer of sophistication that this motley group of people projects. And the things one will see from this angle are not at all pretty.

First, the lifestyle. Seeing them wining and dining in Phnom Penh’s best bars and restaurants, one can easily surmise how extravagant their lifestyle is, and how fat their checkbooks must be. However, scrutiny reveals some harsh truths. Drinks are the cheapest on the menu. And one drink is made to last as long as possible. Food is the same, shared by many people. Also, it has been known to happen many times that celebratory dinners in this group always end with people pitching in to pay the bill, without considering the fact that some of the supposed ‘invited guests’ are new arrivals in Phnom Penh, who have yet to find a gainful employment. In my book, it is but proper to include this crucial bit of information in the invitation. Nothing wrong with sharing the bill, but foisting it on people who might not have the means to do so is simply un-gracious.

Second, the intelligence. When one hears them from a distance, one can easily believe how clever and witty these people are. If one manages to speak with any of them, one will find one’s self being spoken to in English, in spite of the all-too obvious fact that both of you are Filipinos. Nothing wrong with speaking in English with my fellow Filipinos. But if the conversation was started in Filipino, why shouldn’t I respond in the same manner? As I said, there’s nothing wrong with conversing in English, as long as one makes sure that the language is used correctly, not butchered a la Joseph Estrada and George W. Bush. Faux American accents are impressive for 2 seconds at most. But correct grammar goes a long way. Unfortunately, their banter will not survive this kind of scrutiny.

Third, the friendship. Seeing them from afar, one would think how close these people are, how loving they are to each other. And when one is welcomed in the group, one cannot help but feel elated to be part of a very important group, one where people value and cherish each other as true friends. But as days go by, as the new member becomes acclimated to the dynamics of this group, one realizes with great astonishment the degree of subterfuge that permeate their so-called friendships. When they’re together, they behave as if they are each other’s best friends. But when one gets to speak with them separately, they never run out of bad things to say about each other. The dirt strewn when people’s backs are turned is enough to feed a daily gossip column for weeks.

Of course, one can always argue that for every group (them) that stands out in a community (or society) there are countless people (moi) who appear to loathe but secretly want to join this same group. This is so very true. I have been this person long ago. One that longed for acceptance, popularity, and to be part of something significant. But what is significant? How does one discern what counts and what is bull-shit? Knowing this is elusive, and the lessons are always painful. I must admit, I’ve learned these painful lessons long ago.

I have seen similar groups of people throughout my life: in high school, in university, in places of work, etc. But things tend to be magnified here, though I don’t clearly know why. Cambodia is, in many ways, a country still struggling to find its own identity. Phnom Penh is a city that invites re-invention. While I will not speculate on the previous lives of this group in the Philippines, many people, to my knowledge, have created new lives for themselves here in Phnom Penh. But, in a country where more than half of the population is comprised of impressionable young people who consider foreign-ness as something better than their national identity, this kind of posturing poses its own dangers. What are we teaching them by being avaricious and vacuous? But we cannot hold them responsible for this, can we? Thinking about this is probably beyond their capacity, anyway.

People cannot help but feel desire to be assimilated into these groups to improve their (perceived) social status. I know I did, long ago. However, it takes great courage to embark on a journey to discover one’s self. And sometimes the journey involves experiencing groups like this first-hand. The ecstacy, followed by the agony. Fortunately for me, I have developed a deep sense of awareness to recognize and keep away from the type. When things appear too good to be true, they probably are.

I am friends with some people who are still on their own journeys of self-discovery. It is for them that I am writing this.

Spotlight

Spotlight - Jennifer Hudson

About a week ago a fellow blogger and I chatted briefly over Yahoo Messenger. We were both taking a break from work (he, at the office, me, at home) and we were just chatting idly until the topic drifted to blogging. If I remember correctly, we were discussing another blogger who discontinued his blog (a good one, if I may so boldly declare) because of privacy issues. In a nutshell, he apparently wrote things in the blog that were not meant for a certain group of friends, who were able to read it, so he decided to just stop blogging (he has created a new blog, and we his fellow pink bloggers heaved a sigh of relief that he jumped back into blogging).

K asked me a number of questions, such as what my vision for my blog was, is, on how open am I with regards to the things I talk about, the extent of editing that I do with each post, etc. I was not surpised that a few days later he came with a post that dealt with this particular topic. I loved reading the post, because it was a refreshing departure to his blog’s usual flippant, bitchy, and frivolous (his exact words) tone. And more importantly, it made me think of the reasons why I persist on blogging. I mean, counting my first blog at Friendster, I’d been blogging for more than 2 years now. This can be extended further if my weekly email column in 2001 will be counted.

I told K that I see my blog as an extension of myself. The Zen Bitch is not my alter-ego, as compared to Mimi Kikimura (my drag name). The Zen Bitch is more like a nickname, bestowed upon me 12 years ago by an old friend (who by the way has not been friendly with me for reasons that escape me). This blog does not represent my hidden desires and longings. I might, from time to time, post stories that can be considered private. But since I decided to commit it to a medium that is accessible to anybody, it means I am at least, unlocking its lock of privacy.

Which brings me to the second point. How open am I with the things I write about it this blog? I cannot provide a quantifiable answer to this, I’m afraid. I mean, I write about things that I feel like writing about. I write about my life here in Phnom Penh, my work, my relationships with family, friends, lovers, and everything in between. I also write about my sex life. When a news story arouses some emotion in me, I write about it and give my opinion on the matter. Same goes for issues like the ineptitude of the Philippine government, the Catholic church’s bullying tactics on Reproductive Health advocates, the endemic social injustice here in Cambodia, etc. Did I mention that I write about my sex life, too?

One can say, this bitch is pretty much open, right? Well, yes, and no. As I told K, it would seem that my life is open like the pages of one’s most-loved book or like the legs of one’s favorite whore. But there are still many things about me that an average reader will not learn from just reading my blogs. When I write about the things that are happening to me, I usually write in broad strokes, focusing on the emotions of the experience rather than the nitty-gritty details. And when I write about other people, I usually use initials as much as possible.

But this ‘editorial’ decision did not happen right away. Reviewing my older posts, I realized that in the first months I was also trying to discover my tone for this blog. Heck, I even tried writing in Taglish (Tagalog-English) in some of the posts! In my experience, it was like a trial and error thing, trying out things to see if they fit, discarding those that didn’t and retaining the things that worked.

This is where editing was put to good and effective use. Usually, my posts are saved as drafts for at least 6 hours before they are published. This gives me enough time to review the post for typo errors and general cohesiveness. Some drafts are re-written entirely while some still are completely scrapped. If my readers notice, I always try to put a lead, a body, and a conclusion in every post. Sometimes I manage to do so, sometimes I don’t. This takes some more work, but I don’t mind, because this is my personal decision.

Also, I think it is important for a blogger to know for whom s/he is writing. In my case, I write for myself so I am largely unconcerned with what people might think about my blog. Because whatever they think of my blog, it cannot be about my person. Like I said, this blog is but an extension of myself; I am not my blog.

And I think this is the beauty of blogging. It puts a premium on individuality. Everyone can create a blog that is as personal as possible. And because this is so, everyone is in control of what s/he wants to share in this marvelous medium. The spotlight can be zoomed in for the closest scrutinizing look, or out for a wider view of things.