Araw-Araw ("Everyday")

On the social front, things have been pretty good- not for any lack of work, though.

 Tuesday I had a dinner at Relik, this tapas place, in Fort Bonifaco, just around the corner from where I work--with the same ex pat group I've been writing about previously, InterNations. This is kind of a subset called "DinnerNations". I was pretty jazzed to go, wearing this knit Banana Republic Dress in old rose, and a kind of beaded headdress that caused my coworker Rajesh to exclaim "Hey you have a good hairband today!"

As is always the case when you take care to look like a million tax free bux and keep it up all day at work, the after-work event is a bit of a let down. Despite the good food, free (!!) wine and good looking table mates (one of whom, Glenn Lee, I've taken to referring to as "my future husband", which I'm pretty sure is all good since I'm also pretty sure he's g-a-y) I left feeling a bit down- something was just OFF.

Part of it was that I felt ungainly- like I was wedged into a too tight outfit (which I wasn't) or sitting on a child's chair or something. I was also really exhausted emotionally and mentally afterwards and I couldn't figure out why. I mean, the night went really well- grabbed some new contacts, laughed, had fun-ish, and all that. I thought about it long and hard, at first thinking I missed having a date, someone with whom to partner in crime, but upon further study, it turns out to be: I missed the mark of the evening, which was hanging with AMERICANS and  I was at a table full of very nice, well meaning, petite, FILIPINOS. Now, before everyone (not that very many of you are reading this these days, AHEM) gasps and clutches their pearls, allow me to explain:

Living here as "the guest of the state", I have to be "on" almost all the time--- talk slowly, not lose my temper,               explain things over and over and over until I want to scream, answer the SAME FIVE QUESTIONS over and over (for the record:  2 years, ups and downs, New York, here for work, and no, I haven't visited your godforsaken hamlet hometown on a coral atoll, but it's on my itinerary, sugar pants).

Around Americans I can relax and be myself and complain all I want without worrying about hurting someone's feelings or coming off like Paris Hilton. The evening shook down in the way it did through casual coincidence: I was first seated at a table with Americans, but the table itself was too low and I couldn't get my legs under it, so I was sitting sideways, leading me to chat with the friendly Filipinas at the next table over, and then eventually they beckoned me over. From there it was all Ateneo, University of the Philippines, Basic Filipino classes, who's part Chinese and who's not, who's dating whom and who can't get their school certified by the government and why. To add insult to the unintentional injury, they all knew each other from high school, college or both.

Although it wasn't a loss (I got a few numbers and had some form of fun) it was work, not play. It's work to keep it clean, it's work to avoid sounding like you just dropped in from Planet Trump when you complain about the lack of service in stores, it's work to avoid chewing out the waiter after waiting 30 minutes for the wrong check because you don't want to make a poor impression on your new aquaintences, it's work to keep a loving and unenvious mind when YET ANOTHER size 0 sweetheart dressed in something you yourself could never get away with slips effortlessly into the booth that you can't fit your GIGANTIC American legs into. It's not play, people, it's hard, hard, hard work. Meeting gorgeous, quicksilver funny and delightful Glenn almost made it worth it, but "The hustle, the grind, whatever other people call it, that's what I call life now." (loosely paraphrased from performer PitBull). 


Saturday night was much better- my friend from work Eric and his wife Lizel were going out for Mexican at Agave at Eastwood malls, so I was invited along. In a "shoe's on the other foot" moment, Eric, who's local, is married to a Columbian woman, and she was inviting some of her Spanish/ Hispanic friends to eat and Eric (aside from wanting another woman as a buddy for his wife) wanted someone to speak English with when his  wife was happily occupied speaking a language he didn't speak. Oh, the delightful irony!! 


So Eric and gossiped about our coworkers, and I got to know his wife, who's just lovely, and we all feasted on mountains of Mexican food and a few beers, then I toddled off to window shop for a bit, then home to go to sleep early, as I had a spa day planned for today (Sunday). 


As I was explaining to Eric, describing my coworker August's little chip on the shoulder about my white privilege, it only looks easy. I told him about how after Au and I left the event at One Roxas, Au was rhapsodizing about some of the Europeans there and their lofty jobs, and I teased him 'Well, I like to roll with big fish in a big pond" and he snapped back "It's easy for you because you're WHITE." I told Eric, "I wanted to say "No it's NOT Au, it's actually twice as hard to break in, to find friends, to keep it together when you just want to scream, to work and work to find other ex pats who aren't total creeps- it's one of the hardest hills I've ever had to climb." But then again, that's why I got these long stems, I guess.

And more....and more....and more....