Thursday, July 18, 2013

Naomi Kelsey: Tomb Raider

The Rundown:

Back story: On May 1, I was laid off (with a month's notice, so I was on the payroll until June 10). So I had about a month or so to figure out what to do next. After some thinking, I decided to do the following:
  1. Search for jobs here in the Philippines and the U.S. 
  2. Take my severance pay (part of it) and go on a trip in Asia, then make my way leisurely back to the U.S. 
  3. In the U.S, first I would stay with my sister in Denver, Co, checking out the job scene and getting a feeling for if it would be a fit. If nothing happened in about 3 months, I would move on to Rochester, N.Y. where I would sort of permanently settle looking for work with my mom's house as home base. (Bonus: close to friends and fam there).

Well, I settled into a housesitting gig (best stroke of luck ever!) and from there  (using their generous offer of a laptop and their internet connection) I was able to apply for, interview for, and get a job in Denver, doing the same thing I was doing here in the Philippines: working for a call center designing training materials. However, this bumped up my timeline considerably and the 5 country odyssey I had planned had to shrink to just one country: Cambodia.

There was no other horse even close: Angkor Wat has been a dream of mine since I was about 20. I don't remember where I first saw it or quite why it grabbed me and didn't let go, but I knew if I ever had the chance: and now I have the chance.

So I just spent a week there, in Phnom Pehn and Siem Reip, visiting Angkor Wat and other sites.

It was amazing. Words and even pictures really fall short of the truly enchanting spirit and scenery in Cambodia. It is called "Kingdom of Wonder" and I think that's very apt.

Saffron robed monks in the street.

Buddhist temples mixed with street life.

Hidden gardens with pools and chaise lounges with low hanging trees dropping their petals on your bare shoulders.

Nothing can really prepare you for the size and scope of Angkor Wat proper-- it's huge, and you do worry you're going to get lost in it. There are no security guards, signs, or safety maps, or anything. Just a few wooden beams nailed over the most shaky parts and your own common sense to guide you.



I got there at 4 AM to watch the sunrise and to beat the heat, and the beauty of Angkor Wat in the near dawn inky skies is something I will never forget. I almost don't want to sully it by trying to describe it, except to say that it feels like you're being held lightly in the palm of history's hand.

The overwhelming beauty and the surreality of the scene makes me feel privileged to be alive.  One can imagine the feeling back in 1860's when explorers found these monuments--- words fail me.

I also went to "Big Buddha Head" temple: Angkor Thom, and "Tomb Raider" temple, where they shot Tomb Raider- and it's ALL REAL! Tomb Raider is a composite of a few sites, but the temple where the huge tree roots grow out of the temple: real.



And butterflies flit around in the deep green, while the birds wheel overhead, perching on Buddha's face, then taking off again.

One of the most amazing trips I've ever taken. The beauty and fragile strength of this country and its treasures will stay with me forever.


Saturday, July 6, 2013

My favorite memories of you, my Philippines friends

In (roughly) the order in which I met them:




Antony: It's a tie between the night we met and Diwali 2010. Both had a unique feeling I associate with you, which is a light, sweet, comfortable and playful kind of love, one that I feel every time I see you, no matter how mad you made me the last time we hung out.

Ryan: The night I first saw your apartment and I looked out over the lights of Clark, thinking how vastly different it was from the US and how it was all mine to enjoy, and there you were with me, telling me dirty jokes to try to make me laugh.

Randy: Late night at the now-defunct Carousel bar in Clark, talking earnestly about how lucky we were to have our respective jobs. (Oh, those were the days, eh?) Also, every coffee break we ever took at work together.

Davie: Hanging out at the Continental after hours and just gossiping, telling jokes that ended "You can stick that bagel where the sun don't shine, mister, because we don't take to your kind around here."

Matt and A.K.: Even though you two can't be separated, my favorite memories are of A.K at the Paquiano fight and Matt on a random night where I heard his surprisingly touching life story.

Nikki: Even though this relationship ended on a bad note, you were one of my closest friends for over a year. My best memory is the long after hours party at Flying V restaurant- a night that went on and on, full of jokes, laughter, and heads-together talk.

Jessica: Anytime in the kubo, just gossiping, teasing, telling stories and laughing.

Lea: How you went "to bat" for me with a recent ex and took my side. Once a mom, always a mom...

Ankit: Hanging out in the "pod" at Atlantis and feeling like everyone was jealous of what a good looking couple we made-- tall, well dressed and so in...well, not love. But something! 

Lindsey: Any time we went to Skytraks, or the night of your goodbye party for your first "deployment" where it was like 8 guys and just us 2 girls. I like those odds!

Amanda: Hanging out in Manila, shopping, doing dinner and being girly. Ties with how you got lost walking the 3 blocks from Greenbelt to the hotel-- great story. Hee.

Ives: Cebu. Every minute, but the best moment (and it may be the almost all time best in the Philippines) was laying in that afternoon sun in the hotel room, just looking at your unbelievably exquisite face and knowing that for then, you were all mine.

Amit: My first week in the Philippines, you took me to McDonald's in Clark. I didn't even bring my wallet, because something told me I could trust you and as you said "You're with me, don't worry about anything". I was right, and so were you.

Govind: Probably a tie between the day I met you at a cultural sensitivity seminar and just knew we were going to be friends and the time we went out on a rager in Manila and went to Resorts World, Republiq, and some other places too all in one night.

Ton-ton: The only set up in my life where I wanted to give the matchmaker a medal. And you helped me out with a labor dispute like 2 years later! Now there's a gift that keeps on giving.


Froi: My first visit to Manila, where you helped me find gorgeous fabric for my mom. And that great breakfast we had at Breakfast at Benny's.

Alex: Riding in the jeepney in Manila to Divisoria, hearing about how your BF's mom had a minor stroke from yelling at her maid!!

William: Having you there to hold my hand when I was so sick in November of 2011, and watching "L.A. Ink" with you.

Erwin: Watching cheesy TV together, and going to Baguio and seeing you become a much looser, more fun person on the bus ride and learning about your heritage for the first time.

Manila:

Hart: Coffee breaks with that laugh of yours that can light up a room and this immortal line "Okay, so a customer calls, 'Ring, RING, ring RING" in a hilariously rushed sing song that defies description.

Nix: Halloween 2012, where you were so serious about your costume and asked me to brush the hair of the wig!! Hee hee.

Ace: Eating Chinese food at the "Causeway" Chinese place-- some of the best food I've literally ever had. At your recommendation!

August: Hanging out with Eric in my studio bachelor pad until 5 AM, laughing, drinking rapidly warming beer, and feeling the glow of being the 3 Muskateers.

Ivan Tan Lim: Teaching class together, and having a blast.

Haydn: The time you were 2 hours late to your own birthday for openers, but also all the BBQ's in Acacia Estates--good times and you were always a good sport-- friendly and keen to meet new people.

Rena: Having a long ladies who lunch except we're career gals lunch at Eastwood. I always wished we could have hung out more, but a girl's gotta work and pay the bills!

Mehul: Without a doubt, Hindi Campfire Sing a long night. A night that made me feel like I was finally doing something right in my travels.

Mark: Having drinks in Resorts World and playing "who do you know and what did you hear they did now?" about work acquaintances.

Pree: How about when I asked you if you'd ever been to Davao and you reminded me with a laugh that you lived there for 2 years before coming here...for the 3rd time. Hee. 

Birthe: Totally the Hills/ Gossip marathon! So needed, and so fun!

Nimmi: Meeting you for the first time I felt a hope that I could meet cool, funny, smart girls who's lives didn't revolve around men and babies.

Trudy: Listening to funny stories at Mah jong at Diane's. You were one of the few people who took the time to get to know me and make me feel welcome. Thanks.

Alison: Hanging out by the pool! Can I count all those times as one? Also sinful brekkies at Bizu. Mmmm.

Allwyn: The night I came back from the US and flew straight to the hotel where you were staying. Room service, vodka and orange juice, a breathtaking view of city lights, and seeing you after 10 days away-- like drinking water after a desert mile.

Andrea: Meeting a brainy gal who likes to read and watch sci-fi- what a find! I have other friends who like to read too, of course, but it's hard to find fellow geek friends in a country where the female ex pats are few!

Haresh: Without a doubt, the day you picked me up when I was heartbroken and needed rescuing and you somehow knew to play the Furs. I love the Furs. I said. I know. You said. And you did!

Patrick: Having a deep philosophical conversation in a strip club the night we met, after watching you referee a girl on 2 girls boxing match. All Class, that's us.

Martha: Your goodbye tea gave me the inspiration for my Bon Voyage and was a light, bittersweet affair-- just how it should be.

Sargon: Should I count someone I know I'll most likely never see again but yet made such an impression on me? Probably watching you cook and giving you the once over without you noticing, just drinking wine and talking as if we had already been married for years.

Nir: Meeting you and listening to that delightfully odd voice-- coming out of that crooked mouth that held so much charm.

Vanessa: It's not so much a memory of the good times, but a feeling of gratitude for how much you helped me, a virtual stranger, at one of the hardest times in my life, for no gain to yourself. I will never forget that.

Zizi: Another one I didn't get to hang out with as much as I'd have liked, but the first night was super fun-- getting into "Prohibition" without even asking, drinking Patron and trying to stay up just one more hour....

 And to everyone else I met that I've forgotten to include....you made my time here sweet and my life more full. I am a person who likes having a lot of friends (as evidenced by this list-- it leaves out casual work friends and "kiss-kiss" acquaintances I know from various social clubs!) and you added spice, flavor, and color to my life. Thank you all.





Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Dirty Deeds done Dirt Cheap

In which things slip sideways off the edge of the earth, and everything changes....kind of.



Last Saturday I was attending Internations for the sole purpose of documenting the "husband hunter creep" that's been taking place. I took several hilariously incriminating photos of old men with egg sucking grins on their weather beaten faces getting squiffy with young women who were out for a pint of blood and a pound of flesh and was about to call it a night when I somehow fell in with a new crowd.

Nick, Nora, Daisy, and Antony were sitting together. Nick and Nora are married, Daisy and Antony have just met and are not dating. Nick is from Latin America, and Nora is from the UK, same as Daisy and Antony. I can't really describe them like I normally would because I don't want to "out" anyone or hurt their feelings, so I'll be as oblique as I can while still giving you the idea. (Hence the fake names).

Nick is one of those people who appears friendly and outgoing to the naked eye, but upon closer look is one of the most bone chillingly dangerous people I've ever met. He's angry. So angry you can feel it radiating off him like heat waves. He has "shark eyes" and likes to brag, with a look on his face daring you to challenge his statements, which are 200% baloney.

 I'm not sure what the attraction is for Nora, since Nick is not only racist and "thick", he's also the kind of brute that threatens to beat his wife (ha, ha just joking, except I'm totally not!), making the group make rapid, uncomfortable decisions about if they're going to "say something" or not. (Antony did. "You better not say things like that around us [sportsmen]" he growled, drawing himself up to his full 6'1" and looking every bit the taxidermied bear that still scares the hell out of you. Good on him!

 Daisy is also quite a piece of work-- wearing a tight tank top and tailored shorts, and high heeled canvas sandals and a backpack (!!!), she looks and acts like a woman who has had the radish with being "the best friend".

She's sort of...that girl that can't understand why she's not getting hit on when other women of her  same caliber are being landed on like pianos by men and she is PISSED about it. In my experience it has to do with how well you can give that man the milk and honey, and this girl couldn't give a man the Big Daddy with a gun to her head. (or if you're beautiful, how well you can act like you both know and don't know you're a sex object, but that's of little concern for women who are less than gorgeous).

Well, Nick and Nora want to go to Ringside (a bar to horrible to describe except let's just say its main attraction is midget wrestling). So I make a split second decision and decide "YOLO" and what the hell, I'll go. So all five of us are going. At Ringside, Nora decides that Antony, who is a big, burly, nice, white bread guy should be getting some attention from me, and she uses these words to try to convince me:

Me: "I dunno Nora, I kind of have an Indian / Mid Eastern-only dating policy. I'm not really feeling the white dudes right now."

Nora: "It's an opportunity, love, take it."

Okay fine. Why make waves?
After Ringside, we hit up another bar and Daisy proceeds to take to the stripper pole...repeatedly. It was hard to watch, not because she was bad at it, but because she had a look on her face like she was in a fistfight. I know that look. It's the look you give yourself in the mirror when you're drunk again and you don't want to the leave the bar yet and you're asking yourself "is this really happening again? I hate you." Antony and I are left taking care of her when Nick and Nora leave ostensibly with her, but lose track of her and just leave without her. Sigh. Antony puts her in a cab and then he and I down some drinks while I fall in love with the only man in the room who looks like he wishes he were at the library (an Indian at another table).

So I get to know Antony, who, while not rough sledding, is not the sparkiest man in the room. Read the book "Snobs" by Julian Fellows to get a better idea of what I'm talking about. Raised "abroad" in HK and *loaded* with family money and with a voice that sounds like fruit salad over crushed ice (like Tim Curry in his Rocky days), he's used to women dying to get to know him, and isn't used to women like me, who's attitude is "Show me what you got." (And since that's what most guys knock themselves out to do, it works out pretty well).

It goes well enough, and my attitude is "well, he's certainly the most eligible man in the Philippines." Worst case, I make a new friend. No big. As it happens, there's an event that Thursday and we wound up carpooling. (Antony has exceptional manners and offered me a ride after my broad hinting, among the most cultured I've ever seen, Even beating out Frenchmen) Same verdict. Super nice, smart, but....he's the type that thinks he's the black sheep when he's really the whitest of the white. Nice to talk to, and can hold his own, but not an original thought in his head. 

Then Sat we went to a sporting event (can't say much more or it may give away the people involved). The event itself was fine, and the after party tolerable, but it became super clear to me that these were not "my people" as Daisy and Antony (who had come along, this time hair done, makeup on, etc) gassed away about golf, golf clubs and special rules golf tournaments, and excel files (wish I was kidding) in the car, and I was thinking "Wow, these two are happy as clams making the world's MOST BORING conversation. Good lord, even if I liked this guy, I would have no chance with him. I'm not only outside this world, whatever it is, I'm from a different fucking planet. A cool planet, btw."

At the bar after the game wretched Nick was there making remarks like "I can't hold it in anymore! That country is full of _____[racist slur against Muslims here]" and punctuating the remark for those that might not have gotten it by winding an invisible turban around his head with a lemon sucking mouth. Words fail me. 

I left early and Antony and I made plans to go to a BBQ at Nick and Nora's the next day (We both like Nora and didn't want to punish her for being married to a boor.) Antony is the kind of man you can REALLY picture yourself married to, but there is no attraction there, no fire, you don't feel that all the world is well lost for love of him (unlike some of my exes, who I was cra-aa-aaa-zy about). So that's part of the reason I kept on giving it so many chances. I was in full on Lily Bart mode. Make it workkkkk!!!

 So this BBQ was kind of like "it's now or never" for the romance. Now, it's not clear if he had any attraction to me, but he would sometimes flirt in the mildest way possible-- long looks from his very pretty eyes, laughing at my silly jokes, paying for things, etc. So we arrived at the BBQ, which was 45 minutes out of town, together and the rest of the party sort of assumed we came as a "date". (That's key for the rest of the story).

Well, as soon as I arrived, I see this good looking dame, Edith. Edith is also from the UK and she's very cute. And she's wearing a man- killer outfit: tiny denim cut offs with a chiffon long- sleeved blouse. She's not super skinny, but this outfit makes the most of what she's got (decent legs) and glosses over her (minor) flaws (not so perfect upper half). She has a sharp, pretty face with lovely eyes- sparkling warm brown. She also has crooked incisors, which men go FUCKING APESHIT for. (Don't know why, but men LOVE that flaw). In short, my goose is cooked. Have at it, Edith.

Edith has at it. Short version, after a few drinks all of repair to the lawn (where Nick says something oddly prophetic---most awful mean people have a radar for people's weak spots and true nature--- "I want you to lead the group because you're the most lady like one here"--shortly to be proven beyond a shred of doubt!) where Edith lands on Antony LIKE A TON OF BRICKS. Like, giggly whisper flirting nonsense as if it's 4AM at the Pink (shout out Buffalo!!) and running her bare foot up and down his tree trunk of a leg while they lay there like they're all alone, hitting on each other with bald faced intentions. Honestly people, it was like he was Johnny Depp! (Which he ain't).

Wow. I was miffed, only in the sense that A) Edith, who I otherwise like, is totally breaking the girl code. Girl, you gotta ask the lady who came with Mr. Hotstuff if it's okay before you whip off your bra to impress him! You don't just come in for a landing on the runway! "Hey, Na, Antony's so cute. So, how long have you guys been dating? Oh, you're not! Well...."

and

 B) Antony, do your thang, honey. But don't tell your date you're leaving in 30, and then get engaged in a drawn out prelude to a tumble right afterwords, leaving her to find her own way home 45 minutes out of town. AND if you come with one lady, it's the HEIGHT of rudeness to publicly announce with your actions "Oh, that old hag? She's totally a friend. Heyyyy how youuu doin?"

My face was literally warm with anger, but I thought "Just cool it. You don't want this guy, and you're not going to be dog in the manger about this. There's no way to play this except graciously leave, and then remain friends. And then find a way to post it on FB."

Which leads me to my final words: All you need is money, honey, and you too can have the girl of your dreams. And all I need is to keep looking.
















Sunday, April 21, 2013

Hard Day's Night

A long, long day yesterday.But a good one.

After a very busy week, (which I'll give you the run down later) it's finally Saturday. But there's no rest for the wicked. I had a Dinner nations event at 12, at Mango Tree, and then I was invited to a party at my coworker's house, way over yonder and through the woods.

Dinner Nations:

Dinner Nations is a splinter group of Internations, a slightly younger crowd that meets "outside" of Internations, just to meet up and chat and mingle, over a meal. The meal was at Mango Tree, where they had set up a table for 20 up on the mezz level. I was the first one there, closely followed by a very intense looking guy named Nir. Nir is from Israel, and has a shaved head, large, deeply fringed hazel eyes ( I think they give them out free with purchase over in the Levant) and the cutest lisp I've ever heard. You know how some French speakers have a slight lisp that makes their R's into Ls and same with W? He had this, and he also had that elision that some accents carry- a "z" sound for t.

He sat right down and we started talking- he was a pretty strong conversationalist, and we got along well. The table filled up and everyone started talking, mingling, chatting, eating, and having fun. I met Nir, the girl next to him, a Greek gal named Anna, the man on my other side, Olivier, the man across from me, an Ozzie named David who worked in cosmetic pharmaceuticals and reminded me of someone from Made in Chelsea (he had that superannuated school boy look with *perfect* and I mean perfect, skin and that floppy Englishman hair that they wear so well), and the guy next to David, named Pree (an Asian). There was some other people, too, but of course they were basically too far away to talk to. My friend Rena was actually at the far end of the table and I didn't even see her until the end of the meal, that's how long the table was.

It was actually the second such meal that I've been to, since my life lately has been sitting down to long, long tables of ex pats, playing mah jong for money (and winning!), attending wine tastings, and going to parties where I'm the only white person. Yeah, I'm that asshole on the travel channel who's having the time of their life listening to an acoustic guitar Hindi language sing along.

After the meal at Mango Tree, Nir and I and Anna decided to go to the bookstore (actually Nir invited himself, but that was okay, I welcomed his company). At the bookstore we got some fro yo and just talked for another 2 hours (!!), mostly about the Greek financial crisis (I didn't have much to say) and then parted ways around 5 or so. I drifted off to shop and then ended up at Cav wine bar to have a few half glasses while killing time waiting for Mehul's party to start. He lived just past the shopping plaza I was in, so I didn't want to go all the way back to my apartment and then come back to where I just was, so I cracked open the new Lucky mag and enjoyed some Ferrari Carano and the sunset.

Well, imagine the delight when I saw my mahjong friend Cherie (who I had also seen at the wine tasting earlier that week) and her husband Terry come in! They waved me over to their table and we killed a bottle of Malbec while talking about current events, complaining about poor service and gossiping about the mah jong ladies. That was really cool. It was the kind of event I've been waiting for for the last year or so, as I have hustled to get and keep friends. Finally I am "running into" people I know instead of just wistfully looking at tables of ex pats. Make no mistake, it's work, though.

Fireside Hindi Language Sing a long! 

Then on to Mehul's!

Mehul is a coworker that I became friendly with the in the following manner:

On Feb 2 I was broiling my buns out on the poolside terrace in Acaia Estates (where a lot of ex pats live) waiting for Haydn and Dee to wake up, stop bickering, and ATTEND THEIR OWN DAMN BIRTHDAY PARTY (ahem!!), I saw this dude I recognized from around work. Mehul is very distinctive looking: he is will o the wisp thin, with huge, huge, eyes. I mean, comically large. He also has a high forehead, and these two features combined give him a sweetly worried look at all times. Anyway, I waved him over, as I was bored to death and dying for company, and behold, he's super nice. So we chatted and he added me on OCS at work, and so on. We usually have coffee at work about once a week.

Well, cue me asking him, like, every week what he's doing and him being like (super nicely) "I'm super busy!"  He is friends with his own gang from his previous job, and they hang out, like, going to Elephant Island and stuff. That's cool, it usually takes a while for Indians to come out of their shell and warm up to you and invite you over- it's not like in America where you meet someone in the parking lot of Sam's Club for the first time, and next thing you know you're at a family barbeque later that day. Heh.


So finally, I get an invite to his house for a party. Whee! I've actually been to several parties in the estates, which are a huge, huge, ( miles large) group of condos on the edge of Pasig. I staggered in, carrying a bottle of wine, and the party was in full swing. Mehul has a wife, Binni, who's as cute as cut buttons, and a perfect match for him, and she was cooking up a storm (of VERY spicy food), and there was three other married couples and two bachelors there. There was 3 kids, two of whom were twins  of about 3 years old, with the kind of tousled greek goddess Jean Seburg hair an adult would kill for, and a slightly older child (about 5 would be my guess.) It's kind of hard to summarize the party, except that there was lots and LOTS of hearty "barrel full of ale Robin Hood's Merry Men" singing by the men at little or no invitation (all in Hindi), a sing a long with Mehul on guitar (actually kind of killing it! he was pretty good), some spicy food, some nice conversation which, unlike at Filipino parties, was conducted in English even if i wasn't included, and watching a musical interlude from the Bollywood version of Othello.

I asked the guys to translate the songs and this is what would always happen

Me: "What is it? What are they saying!!"
Nice friend of Mehul or Mehul himself: "Uh, it's kind of racy. Hmm, let's see...it's like "Let's light our cigarette from our neighbors' lighter!"

Me: What are they saying?
NFOM: "Uh, it's a little naughty. It's...how do you say "It's night time, come on over to my house."

Hee hee!!

Well, the party showed zero signs of slowing down around 3, and Mehul offered to let me crash, explaining that there were some party goers that wouldn't be leaving without a dynamite stick under their person, but I just grabbed a cab and dozed all the way home through the empty streets, the last person on earth.








Sunday, March 17, 2013

Man-splained

Is it confusing or am I just lost? Who's fault is it when you have a really strange encounter that leaves you wondering "What just happened?" Is it my fault for having certain expectations or is it his fault for being an oddball who sent extremely mixed messages? 

Let me set the scene:

For about 4 months now, I've had a little crush on someone who is based out of another office, but visits our site about once a week. Rarely in my life have I met someone whose looks and demeanor were such a red herring, but we'll get to that later. So, this guy has extremely distinctive looks, so I'll sort of draw the veil over that, but I'll just say he's Indian, and for the sake of this story, let's call him Ranjit Singh ("The Lion of the Punjab") And for those of you who work with me, no, it's not Harry. Although I certainly enjoy looking at beautiful Harry, but when you see Harry, the song "Trouble" by Taylor Swift plays in your head. So that's a no.

 I saw this guy and was struck with cupid's arrow, and I even told one of my coworkers "There goes my future husband". There was something about him- a sort of Saint Sebastian grace combined with good looks that made me want to run away to a tropical island with this guy. Oh, wait, I'm already on a tropical island. 

Anyhow, I always gave this guy the milk and honey look when I saw him, and he was always having it, so we always did the cheerleader and the quarterback thing when we saw each other- nod, smile, wave, a little blush, you know, the whole banana. 

Well, anyhoodle, the other day I was in the elevator and Ranjit gets in and immediately looks like he won the lottery. We start talking and introduce ourselves. Now, here's some minor but key information that led me to believe that there was "something" going on. I went to 7-11 and he went to Starbucks after getting off the elevator, and then I sat down on the outdoor smoking porch apron, while he was inside. My attitude was "let's see what happens here." 

Sure enough, he came out after 15 minutes and came over-- "You should have told me you were coming out here!" He sat down and we had a nice chat- books we've both read, work gossip, things like that. The vibe is friendly with just the lightest hint of flirt. Now I am a practiced, old hand at flirting and I think I know when a man is flirting with me and when he's all business/ just friends. I have met quite a few men who, from the jump, I knew it was just friends, and there's this green apple crispness to your interactions-- this kind of super polite, professionalism that sends a message. In this case, there was an intimacy (for lack of a better word) and a kind of "let's get to know each other as fast as we can" feeling-- a kind of pea-cocking that screams "Mating Dance" that's very distinctive. For example, he told me "Whenever I see you, you always have a book with you." Whenever I see you. 

Is it just me? 

So THEN he casually tells me he'll be in town for the weekend (as opposed to going back to the Mother Site) what are my plans. Well, my plans are a dimly lit bar and plenty of alcohol and cleavage, and possibly bringing along a wing man for backup, but, I was like "you know what, not much. Yoga, and then....?" I give him the full Geena Davis eyes, and sure enough, like clockwork, he's like "Let me add you on IM and I'll get your number. Let's go out this weekend. For sure." 

O-k. whee! I was on cloud nine. 

So, about 15 minutes later he messages me and is pretty no nonsense about getting my number (now, this in and of itself would normally be a clue, because American guys usually do this charming little charade about getting your number, whereas Indian guys lock on to their target and don't make any bones about what's going on or what they want. Usually.) Number exchange goes down. I go back to work business and leave around 12. 

THEN at 4 AM (which is like 4 PM for us, we work nights) I get this text "Hey it was great catching up with you today. I'm just leaving the office now. Let's make a plan for the weekend." 

I mean, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you, WHAT guy that just wants to be friends sends that kind of message to a girl he just met???

 Maybe he went to some kind of boarding school where they drilled it into him to follow up with a "nice to meet you" message? (I do this with new girlfriends, I was drilled in this type of thing, but I have NEVER met anyone else who was. Never.) 

So I thought long and hard about this and decided to treat it as "just friends" and then see what happens. That's usually the best thing to do anyway-- less heartbreak that way if things go wonky. 

Sat night I texted him "Hey, we makin' it happen this weekend?" 

Immediately this guy calls me and the following mystifying thing happens: 

Ranjit:  "Well, I'm still at work, but we're going to go to [the movie] Django at 11. You want to come? I'll buy you a ticket so we can all sit together." 

Oh, WE can? Can WE get some Good and Plenty too? 

What just happened?

 I dissembled- I was going out with Mark, Beth and Dru anyway and kind of wanted a second opinion. I mean, the movies? In a group? Ohhhh kaayyyy? Are we calling this just friends now? So I told him "let me see how my night shakes out and I'll text you later, okay?" Sure. He's Mr. Fucking Agreeable.

 I meet up with the group and start in on the Long Island Pitchers tout suite. I tell the guys the story "Am I crazy? Does this guy just want a white friend for "pocket aces"?" (This is what I call it when an Indian guy doesn't want you for himself, but he wants to keep you "in pocket" for his single friends so they'll owe him big time later. It happens- and I can name names.) 

According to the scoffing men in the group I was with, "Uh, no, honey. He wants to _____ you and he's just being a fool about it." 

So he texts me at 2 AM- "Hey I'm just getting coffee, do you want to meet up now or just reschedule?"

 The desire to know what's up outweighs my tiredness so I give him directions to my place and we meet at my pad to have coffee and just talk. And believe me when I say my ire was at a point where it could have been a full moon and the place could have been full of candles with Frank Sinatra playing and it would have been "just talk". 

Well, it was odd. I mean, it was cool, in the sense that I have now made a new friend, but it was like-- off kilter. I could not shake the feeling that he was waiting for me to give him the go signal to turn up the heat and  go there, but I wasn't feeling it, due to his total lack of traditional flirting. This guy had all the sexiness and charm of white asparagus. And you would never know it to look at him! 

Now, I enjoy "intellectual" flirting, and I fancy myself pretty good at it, but recommending Mein Kampf to a girl you just met is not a great example of such. This guy kind of made a rookie error in that he got caught up in having a conversation and left his balls somewhere on the side of the road (sorry to be so frank, but that's what happened!) 

Basically, here's the short list of his well intention-ed blunders: 

  • Evangelically recommending an est- like seminar to me-- more than once
  • The aforementioned Mein Kampf moment 
  • Describing how he broke up with a girl by explaining "Look, I'm not going to marry you, okay? So do with that what you will." 
  • Suggesting we start up a business (wha?)
  • Telling me "If you're not chasing money, you're going to be an outsider your whole life. Sorry, but that's how it is." 
  • Admitting to reading Mitch Albom *and sending copies to his dad who was stationed in Nigeria* (hanging offense right there) 
  • Being scared of my cat-- correction-- my KITTEN
  • Exhorting me, with a straight face and a fatherly aura, to just have fun and not worry about the future
  • Quoting the Power of Now as if it's something new. Ugh. Dude, really? And you're not even trying to get in my pants right now? 
  • Hard- core suggesting I try out teaching English to Koreans and even going so far as to mentally draw out a plan for who he could hook me up with to get it started
  • Man-splaining the taste of white people. Oh, really? Wow, thanks. (And every non white guy I've ever met commits this same crime, btw.) 
  • Basically treating me as if I needed a life makeover, despite my cute hints that I was not having it ("Uh, do I have a sign over my forehead saying I need a life coach, or something?" I asked him. Didn't even slow him down)
  • Recommending "The Prophet" and then not being able to remember any single part of it (BUSTED!!) 
  • Arguing with virtually everything I said-- nicely, but still.

I'm laughing reading this over, and fondly remembering watching this whatever- it- was go down in flames. 

The thing is, all of this would have been sort of bearable if it didn't come in this really weird package- like he was my therapist or something. As my friend Laurie memorably said "If your Doctor does it, it's probably not sexy." 

So, yeah, fail. Sorry, honey. You're still beautiful, but you're just too weird, even for this Aquarius. (Although he did win points for knowing who Linda Goodman was. Sort of) 

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

It looks like Faith, but it's not

Whirligig



This past week has been extremely busy. All the work (and for anyone who has done themselves up and dragged themselves to an event they really didn’t want to go to knows it really is work) of the past few months is starting to pay off!

New friends!

Attending the otherwise sleepy late February American Women’s Club morning coffee yielded a very good prospect: a late 20- early 30- something gal from England named Martha who, upon spotting me, lost no time in getting to know me (women our age in the Philippines are very, very rare. Most are much older). She mentioned the mahjong group that I went to last week, so she expanded my social group by about 20 people, no lie.

Among the mahjong people were a few “repeats”—one from the women’s club and a few from a book group that I had attended a couple months ago, so I felt a bit more at home than I may have otherwise.
The mahjong group also overlapped with another event, so now I’m starting to see the same people in large, overlapping Venn diagrams. I still have 3 or 4 loose social groups, 5 if you count work friends as another, rather than one large group of “people I went to grammar school, high school and college with” – which seems to be the case with about 50% of my friends.

I’m one of those people who shoot first and lets God sort them out when it comes to friends, and I’m also one of those people who considers someone a friend until proven otherwise, both pretty handy traits when it comes to moving to a new country all by yourself.

So! The week:
Sunday: 
 Brunch with Nimmi and 2 new buddies!! New girls were Zizi, a Latina from Miami who works for Royal Caribbean, and Birthe, a Dutch woman working for Shell Oil. Zizi was the more outgoing of the two, but Birthe was a close second, she was just naturally more dry and reserved by nature, but still friendly, funny, and nice. We exchanged FB information and I yielded a few invitations from that one day, making it pay off very nicely in terms of cost benefit analysis.

Tuesday: trivia night at Howzat with the Australian and New Zealander’s club. This would have been a wash in terms of friend-making, had it not been for the fortuitous presence of Alison and her husband Stewart, freshly back from their respective vacations. They waved me over and I joined their table. At our table, which was pleasantly disposed to come in 3rd place, we had a married straight guy who not only correctly identified Philip Tracy as a milliner, but also knew that the most expensive epic movie produced in the 1960’s was “Cleopatra”. (!!!)

He also handily filled out a “visual jeopardy” round of Asian country flags nearly single- handedly, while the rest of us misidentified Pakistan’s green background with yellow crescent and sickle as “Iran” and called it a night. I mean, this guy got Burma right!

Wed:
 first, it was an early bugle call to go to &#($&Q#)*ing immigration office to be photographed and fingerprinted like a convict as we have to do every year, and, as so often happens, they round up as many ex pats as they can find that are coming due and herd them together on the same mission. In this case, I thought it was just me, and didn’t even register the odd presence of another ex pat in the office at an unusual hour until he fell into step with me walking with the “fixer” they sent to help us.

“Is this guy coming with us?” I asked the fixer. “Yes”--- “this guy” answered.

His name was Makesh, and like every Indian I’ve ever met, he has a sense of humor that falls pretty far on the “vinegar” side, since when I asked first “Which account do you work for?” “Not really any, all of them, I guess.” I gave it my first guess- if he’s not assigned to an account, he’s in “support”, and usually the only people they’ll “import” for support are technical and communications help: “Oh, do you work for GTI? [internal technical support]”
He responded “What, you think I’m technically inclined since I’m Indian?”—with that one- sided killer smile that these guys do so well. Actually, it just seemed most likely since he was clearly not an exec, as he was a) young and b) wearing jeans, but all things considered, most of our Indians are here on the technical side of things, so it was a fair bet.

I just gave him a look and he tittered, and admitted he was in sales something or other. Thus a beautiful hour- long friendship was born. He got in as many zingers as possible during this time—you know how some people are: they just love to tease brand- new acquaintances just to razz them. This sometimes drives me nuts and other times I like it (usually directly proportional to how hot the razzer is; in this case the answer was “pretty damn hot”), and since I had fun teasing him too, it was okay.
This type of set up, where I’m stuck on a row boat with another ex- pat, is how I met one of my very close friends here, Govind, so who knows, maybe this new one will become a good friend too. (For the 3rd and hopefully final time I have sworn off even attempting to make it work with Mother India’s finest—so he’s not even in the shooting range for dating).

Then it was off to Clark, my old hunting grounds, to meet with some teams there who weren’t giving me the information I was asking for over email so it was time to bring out the big guns. And by big guns I mean me. Heh.
In a side note, faithful readers may recall my sort of ill fated romance with a guy who worked in the next compound over, Ankit, and how although it didn’t end on bad terms, it didn’t really “end” either (he was one of those that takes a few tries to break up with before it “takes”—the same reason for this is the reason I had to break it off in the first place: he wasn’t really all that focused on the relationship, let’s say, to the point where he failed to notice my break up. )
Well, Ankit and I stayed in touch, with him texting me once in a while, and he just texted me recently that contrary to what I had thought, he really WAS serious about “it” while “it” was going on but you know, somehow time got away from him. Heh. No shit? Tell that to all the other confused, disgruntled Indian dudes I had to break up with after I had enough of “time getting away from them.” So he told me that next time I was in, please come see him.

Knowing him, I tried to find out what would be the circumstance, but I decided to just roll the dice: he picked me up from work --he borrowed a car- this is what’s so infuriatingly half good about him- he knew I would be tired and thought ahead, and then on the half bad side, when he got back from work at 6 AM, bounced into the room wanting to talk, listen to horrible sitar music, watch “The Rock” on mute and drink beer. Ugh. He is the working definition of “mixed bag”. I think he’s been living as a bachelor for too long, as the total lack of artwork or anything other than the most functional leather furniture kind of testified to. “I don’t need pictures or sceneries or any of that. What do I need that for? When am I home?” He had a point.
Typical conversation: (We’re gossiping about a 3rd party who was a terrible host on an evening out)

Me: “He just committed all the sins possible that night, you know. Terrible. Ogling girls, speaking vernacular with other guys, watching cricket, not wanting to leave for hours, etc.”


Ankit: “All the sins of a bad host?” (visibly worried this story is taking a turn he won’t like)


Me: “Well, not limited to those sins, but yes, to me personally he committed every possible HOST sin.”

Ankit: “I see.”(Relieved)


Thursday 
AM I took the bus back to Manila and went straight to work. I was missing my monthly book club by sleeping in, but I was so tired from the 16 hour day from the day before I just let it go. However, Thursday night I had dinner plans with Nimmi, Birthe, and Zizi, and Nimmi brought another person named Stewart (actually also from Australia, but not married to my friend Alison, another, different dude.) The venue was L’Opera, an Italian place right near where I work.

Stewart was the only person I didn’t know, and he was pretty friendly- one of those “Wow, I won the lottery” types that just loooovvveesss the Philippines and is looking for ways to stay here forever. He’s friendly and seems nice, but let’s just say he’s not one of nature’s philosophers—he kind of likes to party and have fun, and that’s about it.
By the end of dinner I was really exhausted, but I powered through, mostly because I really didn’t want to turn down an invitation of any kind, and because I had already committed and I just hate when people say yes and then do the last minute flake out.

Friday: 
Mahjong day, with all new people! There were a few more younger women there, but mostly it was an older crowd. I only won once, but that’s enough for me. It was just as much fun this time around as last time- although last time we played with the book and this time we only played Chinese style, no book. I won’t bore you to death with all the details of the play, but it went pretty fast and I was able to pick up a few more things this time around.

Sat:
 Internations Irish Ball at 7. Zizi and Nimmi both said they would go, although Nimmi begged off to do some kind of charity race thing the next day, so she needed her rest.
It was a pretty typical crowd, although it was jammed with people, much more so than usual. I saw Kelvin, this guy named Doug from Troy, NY, Zizi, and a few other people I know, but not many. Kelvin was at a table with two morose Eastern Europeans who got up to wander off, leaving a seat free for the world’s most attractive man: Fatih. “It looks like Faith but it’s not.” He smiles.

Fatih is an I would guess late- 40- something (he has two children, one 14, one 9, so I’m thinking at least 40 here) Turk from Turkey, who looks like Dustin Hoffman by way of the Levant, and is extremely attractive, in that melancholy, intellectual European way.

He was wearing his clothes and jewelry with complete insouciance, as if he were born in them: a deep V neck white tee, jeans, and a blazer, and a lovely ring that was a wide, almost inch wide braid of silver – unusual and artistic. He is an architect and had a wonderful mix of that continental nihilism mixed with interest that sets such men apart. He listened eagerly to what I was saying and took notes on his phone about the best places to shop; all while smoking the world’s thinnest cigarette and mournfully nodding about how hard it is to date- but encouraging me not to give up.

As I pointed out sadly to my coworker, most men don’t give women they think are cute advice on dating, unless that advice is “date me”. Heh. So I think we have a fail here. But where there is one there is more! Right? Please?

If you think Javier Bardem is hot, with those hound-dog eyes and crow’s feet around them, combined with that European sensuality and brains, you would go nutz for this guy. And his HAIR. Richard Gere hair—thick, wavy locks of black and silver that cascaded down to his jaw line in the most natural way possible- hair you could feature in a hair commercial.

Fatih means “conqueror.”

And then home, to sleep all the next day. Long week. Many new comers. All good.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

4 Bamboo

On playing Mah Jong

This past Friday I had the good fortune to be invited to play Mah- jong with a group of ex pat women who meet every week in the afternoon to play for spare change and bragging rights. If you've never played (and I've never met anyone who has other than the ex pat who invited me), it's basically gin rummy with tiles. It's also insanely, almost comically addictive. I've certainly had my enthusiasms, and I have a "collector" personality-- one who likes to own whole sets of things and likes rare editions, but I the only thing I can compare this to is my interest in vintage Springbok jigsaw puzzles from a certain artist (and only this artist, and only if they're cut with a random die, not cut with a homogeneous die-- tell us again why you can't find a man, Auntie Naomi?).

Things that have captured the imagination of so many others (Poker, Sudoku, video games, YouTube, smart phones, the books of Nicholas Sparks, Dungeons and Dragons, and so on)- they leave me stone cold. My (not very flattering) attitude is "If the rest of America likes it, chance are it will totally bore me."

Well, as usual, I discover something that fires my spirit about 85 years too late (there was a huge mahjong craze in the 1920's). Let me see if I can codify the intense appeal of this game:

Social: Of course, the main draw is that you can play it like a shark or you can play sort of desultorily and for someone like me, who will never be good at games of skill and chance, it really makes little difference. Therefore, you can enjoy the flow of chit chat around you while you listen with half an ear, trying to build your hand. If you like stats and rules, as my friend Martha does, you can learn the complex rules (if you get the east wind three times and win, your winnings triple, if you're east, everyone pays you, if you're not, your opponent directly across from you pays, the points system --which is incredibly complex-- etc).

The element of chance: of course, it's super exciting to see what the "wall" will give you next, what your opponents will throw away, and what you'll build or not build. It's like a very mild drug taking.

The esthetic elements: the tiles themselves are lovely- classic examples of the delicate, modernistic, and yet timeless hand that all of the best Asian artifacts carry, and all aspects of the game are pleasing: the sound the tiles make, the crisp,cold feeling of touching them, the racks, the way the hands are dealt, the numbers (13 tiles to win), the suites (circles, characters, bamboo) and the honor tiles-- dragons, winds, and flowers. The rituals of play are sedate and circumscribed- there's none of the betting, raising, and checking that you find with poker. Even the jargon is delightful: "honors"-- the hands you build are full of chows, pungs, kongs, and pairs. You "twitter the sparrows" to mix them, and you "curtsey the wall" to make it easy to draw from. There's a flower wall, each seat represents a wind, and so on.

And then there's the hands themselves. I learned, at the advice of the ladies, to play "American" a slower moving version where you (essentially) choose one hand (using a book of illustrated hands) and commit to it, slowly building this hand, and this hand only. Your other choice is the fast and dirty Chinese version, where you can build any hand you like, as long as it has one pair in it.

Some hands from the American version:



They all have names: "Moon at the bottom of the well", "Three Philosophers" (I won with that one). It's hard to explain the almost poetic appeal of this-- for the right personality type, it's akin to visiting a museum full of art that you can touch and spend all day with-- there's an element of tradition, beauty, preservation of mystery, all that's best of "old" games.

For those playing "with the book" it's a mental and aesthetic work out-- you have to use your mind in a way that you may have never used it-- you feel alert yet relaxed. Seldom do I feel so immediately "in the zone" as when playing this game. Rarely do I enjoy visual games like this- I can rapidly become bored playing Tetris or Bejewled, for example, whereas my sister and brother both love computer games. 

Four hours wasn't enough of this for me.

The surroundings were also part of it: it was in the high rise apartment of a lady of leisure. Let's see if I can do justice to this joint: It's the kind of joint where when you walk in you kind of turn into James Dean in Giant, squinting around and trying to look tough, while keeping your hands jammed in your pockets and looking around with a silent whistle shaping your mouth.

A huge (and I mean huge) white on white space station floating in the sky with a view of the golf course and country club ("Insanely expensive to join, darling, insanely") , it was decorated with reams of spoils from years of travel and (no exaggeration) at least 50 bottles of Blue Label quality scotch (and there was a wine fridge, too). Sea foam green and teal rugs so silky they reflected light, dainty folk dolls from around Asia, the kind of lamps you see in department stores, "serious art", tons of family photos and tzochkes---and a bowl of glowing golden marigolds in a shallow bed of water at the door.

Now, it was very much "new money", but baby, who's counting? Our hostess was a very outgoing, earthy and funny older woman (my guess is 50's), with black hair and the "leisure tan" skin you sometimes see around here- tan skin that has kept it's tan for years. Her eyes were golden green, with heavy lids, her best feature, and she had a resemblance to Emma Thompson, the actress, with a cute, slight underbite that gave her an appealing pugnacious quality.

There was a buffet style spread-- jugs of fresh juice, wine, champagne, cookies, crackers, coffee, and all of it put out by the silent, nearly invisible maid, who disappeared behind the swinging door leading to the kitchen now and then to bring out more for us.

The tables (there were 3) were set up with immaculate white tablecloths embroidered with a mahjong theme, and there were copies of "the book" for all of us. This dame knew what she was doing, and we all reaped the fruits of her labors.

This was the kind of place where when you compliment someone of her little frock, and ask "May I ask where you got it?" They say, with a straight face "Diane Von something or other, I think?" and the shoes by the door are Jimmy Choo, Manolo, and Gucci (and Vans-- me.)

Just the place to take off your shoes and step back in time, to a more gracious age of champagne and afternoon mahjong games with gossip and a view that goes on for miles.