The plate stops here, part 1

This past weekend I went to Manila for attempt number three to get my passport updated (spoiler! I was successful, finally!). I had a room with twin beds so I grabbed up Amanda to come with and we were on a gustatory adventure through Manila!!

We began with a place called "Slammer Burger" which had slider burgers, that I rate a 3 out of 5. The rolls were out of this world, but the cheese was like cheese whiz. We recommend the garlic and the caramelized onion.

Then it was off to shop for a bit, as we needed nice shoes for going out later in the evening. I found a pair of key lime pie green mary janes in kid glove leather with a wedge heel that are just too cute for words, and Amanda bought some Gap stuff. Then we toddled off to the hotel, so Amanda could take a nap and I could have some cocktails and read for a bit.

That evening I whipped out my accordion-folded mini guide from these guys: http://enjoythebest.ph/manila/venues

and I picked Barcino Restaurant, a hip little tapas joint. We dressed up (me in a vintage slip I got in my care package, and a pale blue tunic over that, and of course, the new green shoes). The place was "the classy joint of my dreams" that I used to whine I couldn't find anywhere in Buffalo. Dark wood walls, a balcony level, a wine room, an *adorable* owner/ chef who came bustling out to convince us to come on in, and gave his personal recommendation on the wine (the wine was pretty good, especially compared to the plonk that passes for wine 'round these parts). We split (and by split I mean I drank most of it, heh) a bottle of Albarino wine, a light, citrus-y wine that goes well with cheese dishes, which we ordered. We both ordered tapas---Amanda got some potato thingies, and we both got empanadas filled with veggies and cheese that were to DIE for, and I got mushrooms with jamon--the food was out of this world. The ingredients were the real thing, not some pale substitute, the food was hot and fresh, and well prepared- you could taste the flavors, which were intense and delicate.

This is really what I'm missing from the US--the way the cooking layers flavors without mushing them all together in one big stew pot of bland, the way most of the cooking here does. I mean, I love me some "Chicken Zippo Egg", but it can't hold a candle to a Bleu Burger from Friday's, ya know?

Anyway, stuffed to the gills, we then toddled over to the club at the hotel, only to be turned away for Amanda's "too casual" footwear. Sigh. So I whipped out my guide and we hi-ed over to this AWESOME place called the CoLLECTIVE, a warehouse turned shopping mall (for high end alterna-goods, like handmade bags, limited edition tee shirts, tattoo parlor, etc). This was Mecca to me, who has been dreaming of Buffalo hard core- with it's tatty mix of used bookstores, HOD tattoo parlor, organic food markets, used clothing stores, etc. I strolled around with Amanda, taking in the 'hood rats (woah....yeah, really- hood fabulous Filipinos! They *do* exist!), boys slouched around the outdoor bar with "Manila 420" shirts, tats up one arm and down the other, hooded eyes, sleepy grins, and hats covering dreadlocks. The whole nine.

Okay, BUT the only grit in the salad was this total wiener dude---let me see if I can describe him: There's a "type" that you get to know REAL QUICK as an ex pat--he's an ex pat with "money" (usually less than it seems, since other people have a tendency to pay for him) who's tall and good looking, usually looks a lot like this guy:
Except "dirty". Like, sleezy, blown out, coked up, with eyes that long ago lost all sense of humanity-- it's a really scary, scary look. Like, "cut a bitch" look, but with no heat. Like, Patrick Bateman, call your office. The thing is, Southeast Asia ain't for those with "uncontrolled appetites". It's been a struggle for me to keep it under control, since the feeling of being "the king" at bar after bar and only spending 20.00$ or so for a night of partying is insanely addictive; and even more addictive is the cognitive dissonance that lifts you up and sets you on cloud nine while burying you under layers of guilt, angry, hunger, happiness, pleasure, lust, curiosity, confusion, and sorrow, crushing sorrow that makes you want to plunge back into the night and have 12 more drinks.

So this jerk, he's sitting in the window of the handbag store, which is having a little after- hours party that looks like it's really fun, and he focuses his drunken, empty stare at me and Amanda, who are outside considering coming in, and he slowly shakes his head, with a look that's pretty close to pity/ disgust. The message was pretty clear: "You're not welcome here, touristas".

I wanted to crash through the window, drag him out by his greasy, tousled hair, and shake him while yelling "I LIVE HERE, ASSHOLE!! I AM NOT A TOURIST. AND FURTHERMORE, WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK *YOU* ARE, WHITEY!!"

But, eh. We moved on. Some things aren't worth it.

So the next day we slept in and then ate at "Heaven and Eggs" which is an oddly "rock music" themed breakfast place:
and that was TASTY! I have eaten there once before and it was bleh, but I really like the place and I wanted to give it a second chance, and I wasn't sorry. I had a veggie omelet and Chai French Toast...mmmhmm. Then Amanda and I went to MarketMarket, a big shopping area on Bonifaco highstreet.

We found a little market inside the mall called "Gift Market II" and I was like "hey Amanda! Want to get some GIFTS!" Hee hee. The place was pretty cool. I got fabric, which was my objective, since Manila has super amazing fabric for super cheap. I got lovely cream and celery toile de jouy fabric with a very interesting print--- Louis XVI- ish stuff; some crepe de chine ish fabric in light creamy beige with a really cool print of greyhounds with racing numbers on them- very Marc Jacobs, a sturdy cotton in a beautiful jade blue green with mustard and cream stylized wheat stalks print, and a vibrant, unusual Hawaiian print for a dress.

Well, the rest will have to wait, as I feel like this entry is already pretty long. Later, babies.

I can see clearly now, the rain hath gone

In which I get new contacts!

So my first attempt to get new (replacement) contact lenses ended in silent fury (on my end) and tearful terror (on the store employees' end) due to the fact that I was turned away from every store with terrified squeaks: "No ma'am! We no have!" since my eyes are literally too large for even the largest size in stock. And they DO NOT special order. Or else, that was the look on their face, who knows what the real story is.

Then I got JoelMari involved in the mix, went to a bigger mall in a rich part of town, and told JoelMari to help me translate and make sure I wasn't getting shafted. So the first step was to get an eye exam (duh!) so I popped out my current contacts and then the assistant told me to take a seat so I could "relax my eyes".

Okayyy. I've had contacts for 15 years now and NOT ONCE have I had to "relax my eyes" prior to an exam. "Is this really neccessary?" I asked. "Oh, yes, ma'am!" But whatevs.
Then I got measured (I assume) by this machine that takes what appears to be a picture of your eyes. Then came the pizza of resistance:

As those of you with faulty eyes know, in the US, you sit in a darkened room in a kind of tricked out dentist's chair and a huge futuristic machine on a swivel arm comes down from the ceiling to fit to your forehead and eyes; you look through a series of plates that the tech adjusts, asking you "better? worse? better? worse?" (See the title shot)

WELLLLLLLL NOT HERE!

Here they take a tiny, bright yellow plastic pair of Buster Super Dweeb eyeglasses with one eye blacked out and they HOLD UP various perscriptions to the "test" eye until one "takes".

Honestly, I expected them to wave a feather over a fire pit "Great Spiritttt please tell your humble servantttt Naomi's strength of perscriptionnnnn....", and put minature glasses on a voodoo doll at that point. I was like "what on earth are these? are you fitting me for glasses size or something?" Good thing my eyes were nice and "relaxed", eh?

Heh. Anyhoo, the story ends happy with me with my -7.00 (for those of you who know anything about glasses, that's "blind-o" level) contacts (a years' worth for 60.00$) and some free lens solution.