The days are just packed

This weekend has been rather busy and it's not over yet. Firstly, after a grueling week of work, our coworkers all got together for some after work drinks. Everyone was able to make it, although some were more enthusiastic about it than others (Nix spent most of the time checking his watch, frowning manfully, and nursing a soda, by contrast August wasn't ready to quit at 5 AM). We started out at a railroad themed all night diner called the Whistlestop, where they serve Hoegarden beer (!!!).

Originally, we took 3 cars, with me, Charlene, and Rhia in one car, Nix and Ace in another, and Hart, Eric, and August in a 3rd. Two out of three blazed up to the resto in about 5 minutes, the car with Hart and Eric (driven by August, who I'm now calling Jinxy after his uncanny ability to turn what should be a 10  minute car ride into a latter-day version of The Hunt for Red October) was 35 minutes late, after most of us were well into our second round and had finished off most of the food.

 After this, we repaired to a local sports bar, Heckle and Jeckle, where the English football game of Greece vs Germany was on and the crowd was...quite frankly, a bit scary. Huge, loud, super-Aryan dudes were bellowing and when we found a spot near a second, disused bar, this jerky guy told me, August and Eric to suck in it, since we were blocking his view of the 50" TV that was taking up the back wall. Yeah, those type of people.

Three drinks later the people next to us (who were also from our company, although from other divisions and locations) had discretely rearranged themselves so that single and ready to mingle Preetam (his name means "Beloved One" and he has, as Chuck Klosterman so memorably puts it "The personality of a honey gorged bear") could be next to me. This happened while I was giving someone else the eyes, and as has happened with Keziah, my eyes, still in "milk and honey" mode, drifted over to Preetam and ZING! He was in love at the club.  The word that comes to mind when thinking of Preetam is "pleasant". 5'8" (he told me when asking me my own height), stocky (but not overweight), handsome in a bland way, with the little paw like hands that make you think of sacred statues,and affable to the point of near silliness, Preetam was nice, but my interest level was, like, a 2 on a scale of 10.

So naturally, Preetam is immediately full court press on making time with me, getting my number, making a date for the next day, etc. I was a) a bit too in my cups and b) distracted by the wheelie fireworks show that was tipsy August, who on an average day radiates enough energy to power all of Metro Manila and while drinking is a barely contained one-man harmonica band, to really focus on what was happening, and before I knew it I was sort of committed to going to Republik the next night. (I already had plans with Haresh, who is pictured above, in full-on James Bond mode).

After about 3 long hours, the group split up, with everyone but August, Eric and me going home. The 3 musketeers (we have often had lunch together and have our own mini group within the team) decided to try to go to a little sketchy bar I thought I remembered as being 24 hours, near my house. (Heckle and Jeckle is about 10 minutes away from my pad) When we got to the bar (which I remembered being called 'The Laugh Box' or something equally awful, it was crowded with "ladies of the evening" prominently hanging out in the doorway, so we passed on that and grabbed beers from the local corner store (August tracked them down with the alacrity and hunting skills that he has heretofore failed to show in any other circumstance, but hey this was an EMERGENCY! We needed cold beer, stat!) and toddled up to my apartment.

The mood was happy- Eric and I were giggling to beat the band, making silly jokes and things, and August was in high torpedo mode, firing off his best "Oh, you crazy American" jokes and routines, including a long riff on how we knew my own Baranguy (hood) better than I do now, since he was able to find beer-- typical screwball-y, nonsensical, light-footed, impish August stuff. He's kind of like those sidekicks you see in 1950's musicals, making jokes like "Bananas? No thanks, I've just come from a funeral."


After showing an appropriate amount of deference for my cool place (although August kept on accusing me of having "Googled" it, as if there was any other way for an ex pat to find a place---then again, out of 4 places, this current place is the only one I've actually found online). We sat around having a bull session and drinking, while dawn did it's thing in the background. Only a call from Eric's long-suffering and rightly concerned wife broke it up (they were scheduled to make a 3 hour drive to a vacation town for a weekend trip at 8 AM and it was 7 AM), and with the requisite beso-beso, the guys left, trailing clouds of hops in their wake.

Then I collapsed into bed and woke up around 4 PM, with Haresh calling me (he's one of only a few friends that actually calls people, as opposed to texting, which most people do over here), and reminding me Oh yeah, I'm supposed to meet him and go to this little speakeasy where they serve couture cocktails. These plans have been in the works for quite some time, so I showered and met up with Preetam, who wanted to get dinner, and then off to meet Haresh.

As is always the case with someone who you have no interest in romantically, the date was flawless- Preetam paid for everything (I DID offer to pay, but he wouldn't have it), window shopped with me like a pro, and made light, easy going, yet intelligent conversation that genuinely made me smile. Too bad I'm like meh on dating him- there's really nothing wrong with him, except his just "a dude". A dude with exceptionally beautiful eye and great hair, but he doesn't fire the imagination the way some dudes do. Anyhoo, after dinner,  coffee and all that, I met Haresh and we toddled off (minus Preetam, who had to go home to get ready for his stage debut at Republik later) to the Blind Pig.

This place was totally amazing- dimly lit, with a clubby, English atmosphere, some of the nicest bathrooms I've ever seen in the Philippines, and custom made cocktails (you tell the waiter what you like and he makes you one custom to your likes). Haresh (naturally) has a drink named after him that involves an absinthe-rinsed glass (it tastes like sambuka, which I happen to love), and following in Preetam's footsteps, he too proceeded to turn on the charm, to essentially no avail. (Although I think Haresh is rather less interested in dating than Preetam, he still gives me the impression he wouldn't say no if I "insisted"--which ain't gonna happen.)

Haresh is really a catch- he was a self described nerd as a kid and a young adult, and despite his striking good looks, he has a dry, self deprecating wit and yards of style. Witty, mannered, intelligent, and quick as a whip, he's a little serious (almost all Indians are a little heavy hearted in some essential way- like they got in line twice when "god" was handing out soul) but this only lends him a flattering gravitas. He's an unusual character who has the blessed melancholy of a banished traveler, which gives him a polish that might other wise be lacking in a privileged young man with his gifts and talents.  He invited a friend, a young woman named Hannah, who was sunny and fun, and we chatted and shared some truffle fries and had lovely custom made cocktails until about 12, when I went home (since I had stuff to do today, Sunday, and wanted to get an early start).

So that was THAT! So happy to be here, thanks for a lovely evening, and don't forget to tip your waiters!

Scaramouche

Second time around is always better: The true story of the second InterNations gathering (that I attended, that is, not 'ever').

I was surfing around the InterNations site and found that there was an event scheduled for June 9, so I invited this kid from work (same offender from "You WHAT?", given a chance to behave himself). Originally, he actually invited ME to a party before I could even fully finish my sentence about InterNations, so we merged our plans and developed the itinerary to go to my event first (which was early) and his friends' joint birthday party after, since no self respecting party would get swingin' much before 10 anyway.

But what was I wearing?!?! My mom gave me a lovely silk vintage sheath dress from Hong Kong that she inherited from a friend: darkest midnight silk with a print of gold, bright green, and russet flowers on it, and an unusual split skirt in the front that revealed a swath of deep, burnished gold silk-satin.I paired this with gold sandals that had large stones in the same smoky grey-blue as the dress, and I was good to go.

Sat night "dawned" and Risky Business asked me if we could go to my event a little late, since he was wrapped up in Family Business. Sure, that's fine. 8 it is. At the *crack* of 8.30 a yellow cab screeches up and we pile in to start the adventure of a lifetime: Trying to Find the Goddamn Place. Almost a hour of wandering around getting sweaty, giggling semi-hysterically at our plight, calling various friends and family members for help, taking 3 cabs, more wandering, asking no less than 4 security guards for help (and not really getting it-- "There was a "segunda" ("I'm not sure") in there" Risky Business intones mournfully as one security guard squints and gestures into the Wild West that is Makati Central) we finally pull up at the HARDEST TO FIND LOCATION EVER, One Roxas Blvd. Seriously, this place might have well been on "Bob's Alley, second door from the right, make a left at the pinecone", because it was SUPER ill placed.

The place itself was lovely- a sort of convention room thingie with a spectacular pool and deck (which was cloaked in darkness and had been for several hours when we got there) and a slightly less spectacular function hall/ main area. 

The party was in full swing when we arrived,  immersed in something that, after a few tries, I managed to make Risky Business (my date) understand: The "mingling"---that IS the party. There is no sit down and eat, no cards, and no group of men staring manfully and silently as one guy repairs something, drunk as a skunk. The event was a cocktailish meet and greet, where the purpose was to...mingle.

My date acquitted himself well, drinking beer but not too much, hanging back instead of hanging all over someone's neck, smiling at people and chatting with whoever I was talking to. In short, a miracle date. I didn't have to "babysit" him, and considering that he had little to no experience in this sort of thing, I was pretty impressed. We met up with this very unusual person, a tall, thin, slightly stooped Indian (he's actually Pakastani, but that makes people think of Afghanis, which he is not, he's a Hindu who was "caught" in the partition and repatriated to be born here in the Philippines.) who was touting his own self published book of short stories, he was actually a rather interesting conversationalist. I spent most of the time trying to convince him how awesome Richard Brautigan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Brautigan) is, and he was trying to make me read his book on his smart phone. After we settled down a bit, my date, me and Havesh (that's the author) told war stories about tattoos and other wild adventures, and clinked glasses like old bar buddies.

Then it was off to the after party at Buddah Bar. If you've ever seen Sex and the City season 4 where Carrie goes to "Tao", that's what this place is like: Huge, high ceilings, waitresses in chegongs, (sp?), exotic cocktails and spicy Bang Bang Shrimp nibbles, chairs that look gorgeous and are about as comfortable as a hospital examining table, the whole works. My date and I huddled at the bar and chatted, having (I think! It's hard to tell sometimes with Filipinos) a grand old time just drinking and talking. Then the big boys arrived and we were beckoned over to sit at the Grownups Table, where we just lounged and chatted. Other than Havesh, my date was the only non-white there. One lady turned to her seatmate, half including my date in her musings "He doesn't really look like a local. What are you, honey?" (It's true that my date has a very unusual face for a Filipino- sharp, with strongly cantilevered lines- and two little commas around his downturned mouth like Jeremy Irons). He took it well, joking that he's probably Nepali, while I was frozen in mortification: "Uh, guys? He's not a cigar store Indian. He can HEAR YOU! He's right here!"  Sigh.

After that it was home, since Risky Business had a fever, and had been champing it out the whole night, so we skipped the other party. He also admitted that he really couldn't show up in a button down and a scarf, he'd be laughed out of the barrio, to which I scoffed that he should be able to show up in a speedo and a tiara if he liked, these were his friends, and he gave me the Patented Risky Business Withering Stare of Get With It, Whitey. So that was that! Effusive thanks followed, on Monday AM upon arrival in the office (from my date, who was fully recovered and full of beans) as well as connections on the InterNations site, as well as FB.

Success!