Episode Twelve: Tale of the Three Continents: Second stop: Asia

My flight was originally scheduled to land in Singapore from Perth at 7:30pm, but luck has it that mine was changed so that I was not getting in to Singapore until 2 am!(you gotta love the low-budget airlines that can just change their flights whenever they want to; I guess you get what you pay for).  So I ended up sleeping in the airport, which by the way wasn’t such a bad thing. 

Singapore: Disappointment Island

My original purpose of visiting Singapore was to visit my friend Harsha, my crazy but lovable Indonesian neighbor during my junior year of college in International House.  It has been about four years since I have seen her last, and so, I was looking forward to hanging out with her; I contacted her in May to let her know of my plans, and so it was set, or so I thought.  I sent her a reminder email late November when I have my flight information finalized, only to be told that unfortunately, she will not be in Singapore when I’ll be arriving and that she will be heading to Darwin and Cairnes for her holidays.  

Out of the all the cities that I visited, Singapore was the one that I was most disappointed with.  When the airport is the city’s best feature, it doesn’t bode well for that city.  But what an airport it was: modern and sleek facade, well-appointed decorations, natural light bathing most of the airport space, wide concourses that allow your eyes to be at peace, and best of all, free Wi-Fi!

I mean don’t get me wrong, Singapore really is as sanitarily clean as people say, but to me, there’s something off about it. But, for what it is worth, there are certain parts of Singapore that I enjoyed.  Being a former British colony, certain architecture elements were present, as evidenced by neoclassical buildings in the theatre and museum district, which were well-preserved, and for the most part, well constructed and not bastardized.   

For my tourist-y thing, I paid the Roaring Lion a visit.  It was a good place to people watch, with tourists taking goofy pictures with the Lion, to businessmen and women grabbing happy hour drinks nearby.  What I enjoyed the most, however, was Little India.  It was the antithesis of the sanitized Singapore; not that it was filthy, but there were definitely gum wrappers and such in the streets.  It was a lively place, with bars lining up the crowded and bustling streets, street vendors hawking everything from seasonal fruits to used electronic gadgets, and restaurants that fill the streets with enticing aroma. 

But I guess the fact that I missed out on spending time with Harsha and that I didn’t have a strong desire to visit Singapore in the first place, almost made me regret stopping by Singapore; I kept thinking that the day and a half that I spent in Singapore would’ve been better spent in Bangkok. 

Bangkok:  I think I died and went to heaven

Oh, where do I begin?  I’ve wanted to go to Bangkok ever since I tasted my first Tom Kah soup from Royal Thai in La Jolla, and I have heard nothing but great things.  

Thai food is my favorite cuisine, and boy, did I eat my heart out while I was here; I must’ve eaten at least four times a day while I was in Bangkok.  I found this Thai buffet restaurant that served all sorts of yummy goodness, from green curry, all for 250 baht (which was about $7.50).  I also found this other Thai restaurant near the hostel that I stayed at, and by the time I left, they knew my name and my order (tom kah, green curry with chicken, and bottled water) all for a reasonable price (130 baht for my whole meal , about $3.85). There was this one late-night eatery, however, that gave me the “tourist” price when I ordered, but I have read about it beforehand, and apparently they do it to everyone, so I don’t feel slighted. The funny thing is, at first, when I sat down, the lady thought I was Thai, gave me the Thai menu, and started talking to me in Thai.  When I gave her a puzzled look and replied in broken Thai that I only speak English, she gave me the “tourist” menu, equipped with photos and such, and of course the requisite increase in price (about 200 baht difference, which is about $6.00).

Out of all the cities that I have traveled to this trip, I was warmly received by the Thai people the most.  I know 3 words in Thai, but they’ve got me through, with help from a LOT of hand gestures and facial expressions.

Here’s where I met Juan Pablo, an Argentinean traveler with model-like looks in Bangkok for the holidays, who was on his way to Madrid for work.  We were staying at the same hostel, and I met him the night before I left for the Philippines.   Who would’ve thought that I would be practicing my Spanish in Bangkok?  Through CouchSurfing, I met Daniel and Kyla, who owns this diving place in Phiphi, an island an hour away from Phuket by ferry.  I promised them that the next time I’m in Thailand that Phiphi will be a definite stop. 

I decided that a little pampering would go a long way, and so, I went to this day spa in the Sathorn area, that was equipped with a pool, gym, sauna, steam baths, and a Jacuzzi.  Amazing is all that I can say: for 1500 Baht (about $44), I had access to all of their amenities, plus a 2-hour full body massage and a 45-minute body scrub treatment.  My masseur was quite professional and gave a really good massage; I felt quite relaxed and reinvigorated afterwards.

Philippines: relax and recharge

Words cannot fully describe the four days that I spent in the Philippines.  All in all, it was a very relaxing and refreshing time with my family that I haven’t seen in awhile. I haven’t seen my oldest sister in two years, since I went back last time for my other sister’s wedding, and before that, the last time I saw her was when she dropped us off the airport eleven years ago when we moved to the US permanently.  I have always felt closest to my oldest sister, despite the ten year difference between us; it must be the Pisces thing.  I bought myself a webcam so we can talk to each other in Skype.  With my busy schedule and the time difference, we are trying to do this at least once a month. 

My favorite time of the year is Christmas, and being a Catholic country, Christmas is a big celebration in the Philippines.  Streets were decorated with streamers, parols (star-like Christmas lanterns made out of bamboo and paper) adoring the homes, and fake Christmas trees embellished with the usual accoutrements. 

My godson wanted to go hiking and camping, and so we went to Subic Bay for camping, and explored the surroundings and went hiking with the natives that were running the campground.  Manong Edwin even made me a spoon and fork set, with matching glasses, made from bamboo.  The next day, we went to Camayan Resort in Subic Bay for some scuba diving, kayaking, and good ol’ fashion sunbathing. Good times indeed.

Shopping-wise, I can never get enough of the Philippines.  So much that I ended up with a WHOLE suitcase full of stuff, and not spending a fortune on it.  The other bonus is that these clothes are unique and that not a lot of people will have them.  I’m not a snob when it comes to clothes (well, ok, maybe a little); I don’t get bent out of shape when I see someone wearing the same shirt as I am, though as much as possible I try to look as “unique” as I can, whatever that means.  I mean, we all don’t wanna walk around looking like page six in the Banana Republic catalog, now do we?   

Bahrain:  handcuffed by a Bahraini policeman

No, no, it’s not what you think.  I didn’t violate any Bahraini laws, or anything like that; it’s more of the curiosity-killed-the-cat kind of thing.   

My next destination from Manila was Paris, but I had a stopover at Bahrain for eight hours, and so, I decided to pay my friend Presita, the hilarious girl that I met at my friend’s sister’s wedding last October, a visit.  I paid my 5 dinars (about 13 US dollars) for my two-week traveler visa as I was clearing through immigrations, and waiting for me outside was Presita and her special Bahraini policeman friend.  Her special Bahraini policeman had his handcuffs lying around in the backseat, and goofy little me HAD to try them on.  There was a scary moment where he couldn’t find the keys; I’m not sure if he was just playing with me, or liked the concerned look on my face as he was searching for the key.  They finally turned up, but not soon enough to prevent me from incurring sore wrists and a good lesson. 

Next week’s column is Part Three of the trilogy, and it’s all about Europe, my adopted continent. 

Episode Eleven: Tales of the Three Continent: First Stop: Oceania

It was an epic vacation nine months in the making.  I figured that this past winter break would have been the last full winter break that I’ll ever have: next year, it’ll be time for cumulative exams, and then the following year, I will be rotations; the year after that, it’ll be the “real world”, so I decided to go for one last hurrah, and back in March, I bought my one way ticket from San Francisco to Sydney.  When it’s all said and done, five weeks in all, my passport would have gotten stamps from Australia, Singapore, Thailand, Philippines, Bahrain, France, Czech Republic, Turkey, and United Kingdom, my credit cards maxed out, and my memory filled with unforgettable encounters and experiences. 

And it almost didn’t happen.  As usual, my lateness almost got me into trouble.  My flight was leaving at 10:30pm, and why was I still packing at 8:30pm, with my taxi waiting outside my apartment?  My flair for the dramatics? My constant need for blood pressure-raising thrill rides?  Luckily, there was a long line in check-in, and not that long of a line through security, so I made it in the nick of time.    

Sydney:  the land of the “nice players” and a long-lost friend

My vacation started out nicely.  The plane was half-full (hey, I’m that kind of person) and so, I had the whole row to myself, a luxury that I was more than happy to have, given the fifteen hour non-stop flight from San Francisco to Sydney that I was about to embark on; all that I was waiting for was my complimentary drink services and I would be on my way to a jetlag-free flight.  The baby three rows behind me had other ideas.  After the fifth wine bottle, I was able to succumb to the beckoning call of my nicely arranged impromptu bed (take that, crying baby!), waking up after 8 hours, just in time for breakfast, followed by more wine and more sleep until I landed in Sydney Sunday morning.   

After figuring out Sydney’s public transportation system, I was off to meet up my long-lost friend, the same girl that broke my heart six years ago.  I haven’t spoken to her in years, but I heard from a common friend that she’s in Sydney, finishing up her nursing degree, and so I thought it would be nice to catch up after all these years; I mean, we were really good friends before, and a friendship of quality is a terrible thing to waste.  I thought it was going to be weird between the two of us; after all, I basically cut her out of my life.  But it really wasn’t; it was just like the good ol’ days, reliving our freshmen year memories as if were just yesterday that we last saw each other, with no hint of weirdness.  I guess four years have given us both perspective and distance to review what had happened, and realized it was water under the bridge, so to speak.  Not to promulgate clichés, but I guess time does heal everything.  

Here’s where I first encountered Australia’s “nice players”, as my friend warily refers to them.  I met Andres through CouchSurfing.  We exchanged emails for a bit beforehand, and got each other’s contact info, and have decided to meet up once I arrived.  We even texted back and forth, and tried to meet up, but in the end, it didn’t end up happening.  I mean, what was that all about?  Granted, I was only there for 3 nights, and I had a packed schedule as it was, so maybe we’ll just chalk that up as missed opportunity. 

I’m not a big “tourist” traveler, but one thing that I did that was quite tourist-y while I was in Sydney was that I did the “Bridge Climb” at Sydney Harbor Bridge, through the suggestion of my friend, Fugs.  It was a good experience, something that I’m glad that I did, but it’s something that I will not pay 200 Australian dollars for again.  In essence, you scale the bridge, the cars, trucks and trains below you whizzing by, while being strapped to a cord dressed in a get up suitable for space travel.  Of course I had to document this, forking over 40 Australian dollars to buy the photos, commemorating my crowning achievement .  My reasoning was, if I could afford to pay that much to climb it, what’s another 40, huh?

Melbourne: am I back in San Francisco?

I have been told that Melbourne has a very unpredictable weather pattern, but I figured it’s the summer, and it couldn’t be possibly cold in Melbourne in December, could it?  Well, let’s just say I was glad I brought a coat with me. 

Melbourne bore a lot of similarities with San Francisco, from the unpredictable (usually cold) weather, the diverse neighborhoods, and the beautifully rich architecture that give Melbourne its unique flair.  My friend Kieran (whom I met through CouchSurfing) met me at the train station, and as soon as I dropped off my luggage, he whisked me away to a zine launch party at a rooftop bar, hobnobbing with the Melbourne artsy-fartsy crowd, while enjoying the crisp Melbourne evening with drinks in tow, made possible by an open bar hosted by the zine launch. The “nice players” were nowhere to be found here, to my delight. 

For my tourist-y quota, I decided to drive down the Great Ocean Road.  When I planned the day trip, rain wasn’t in the forecast, and lo and behold, as soon as we reached the beginning of the Great Ocean Road rain started to make its presence known.  At first, I was grudging it a bit (I was wearing shorts and flip flops), but soon enough I gained an appreciation for the unique way the mist-covered surroundings looked like as we made our way through the Great Ocean Road towards the Twelve Apostles, impressive rock formations off the coast (in reality, there’s only like 10 of them left, the others swallowed up by the ocean).   Afterwards, looking through our photos, the rain gave the terrain a richer green hue, so I guess, I couldn’t be as mad at the rain for “ruining” my road trip.  On the way back, we traveled through the rain forest, and we saw some koalas in the wild; those lucky creatures sleep sixteen hours out of the day. 

Perth:  where the sun lives

Aside for that one sunny day in Sydney, Perth was the place where I got my well-deserved sun in Australia.  I didn’t have much expectations of Perth; the only reason I included it in my travels was to visit my friend Kris.  I knew very little about Perth, only that it was the capital of Western Australia, and that there are exceptional outdoor trails suitable for hiking and biking.  And I would say that out of all the places that I visited, Perth was the place that I enjoyed the most, precisely because I had no expectations.  It helped that I enjoyed great weather while I was there (28 degrees Celsius and sunny throughout my stay, and rarely going below 22), so I was able to enjoy all the outdoor activities Perth had to offer.

It was great catching up with Kris.  I met him three years ago while I was traveling in Spain, and we’ve kept in contact ever since.  He amazes me with the amount of resolve that he has; he’s gone through a lot, and still is going through a lot, and yet he manages to stay afloat and keep positive; he inspires me to do the same.  I also met up with Rod, a fellow CouchSurfer and a bull rider (he has videos on YouTube), who taught me how to throw an elbow punch.    

Stay tuned next week; Part Two details my travels around Asia.  Photos are available for viewing at my Facebook page; I think that pictures are worth a thousand words, and they can tell a story better than I can. 

Episode Ten: I am... Sasha Fierce CD Review

this was written last year, but I have forgotten to upload it here:

Beyoncé’s “double” album, “I AM…Sasha Fierce” is the newly Mrs. Jay-Z’s third solo project, following the success of “Dangerously in Love” and “B-day”.  Her concept for the third album was to provide her most “personal” album to date.  

On her MySpace page, Beyoncé describes the concept for her double disc: for I AM… , she reveals to the world who she is “underneath all the makeup, underneath the lights, and underneath all the exciting star drama.”   And “Sasha Fierce” is the “fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side” that comes out when she performs on stage. She goes on to say that the double album allows her to “take more risks and really step out of myself, or shall I say, step more into myself, and reveal a side of me that people only know me see.”

It’s on the I AM… side of the album that Beyoncé takes the biggest risk by straying away from what has made her successful: the 808-heavy, beat-driven, club-friendly songs; instead she picks up where she left off with “Irreplaceable” and “Listen” to produce a different sound compared her previous album.  With influences ranging from folk songs, acoustic rock, and alternative rock, I AM…Sasha Fierce is Beyoncé’s foray into further blurring the rock/R&B genre, and this is her attempt to get to the Whitney/Barbra Streisand status. 

What’s a new Beyoncé record without a little controversy?   Beyoncé’s lead single off of I AM…, “If I Were a Boy”, a certifiable smash hit, was originally written by BC Jean, and produced by Toby Gad (also produced Fergie’s “Big Girls Don’t Cry).  Word has it that Toby Gad originally produced it for Ms. Jean, and ended up shopping it to major labels without success, and that Beyoncé’s strong-willed father/manager, Matthew Knowles, stiff-armed Jean to agree to give up the rights to the song, and apparently, to placate the up-and-coming singer/songwriter, a studio duet recording is going to be arranged for both Ms Jean and Beyoncé.  You can check out Ms. Jean’s version of the song at her website, at www.bcjean.net. 

Her other current single, “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on it)”, has stirred a mild controversy on its own.  Her video for this single apparently features a transvestite.  I don’t see the big deal out of it, and if it were true (this is still an unsubstantiated rumor), she’s one hot mama.  But the video itself, an homage to Bob Fosse’s “Mexican Breakfast”, is quite great, with its excellent choreography and its jazz dance influences. 

One thing for sure, this girl’s on the top of her game, and she intends to stay on the grind and has no plans on letting up.  She plans to release a Spanish version as well as video anthology for this album early next year (February 2009), in addition to a 110-day World Tour. 

Here’s the skinny:

The Good:  There are numerous outstanding tracks from each part of the album.  The aforementioned “If I Were a Boy” has definite cross-over appeal, and has the potential to achieve the same success as “Irreplaceable” did.  “Halo”, the scheduled second single, is produced by Ryan (OneRepublic) Tedder, and features heavy drums, claps, and the piano, the last instrument being one of the central elements of I AM....  “Broken-hearted Girl”, is where Beyoncé shines.  From the same team that brought her international success (Stargate) in “Irreplaceable”, and with Babyface, Beyoncé beautifully sings the verses with vulnerability and resolve.  I would’ve loved this to be her second single.

From the “Sasha Fierce” side of the album, there are definitely some banging single materials there, aside from “Single Ladies”.  “Sweet Dreams”, leaked months before as “Beautiful Nightmare”, has that electronic feel that is a bit different from her previous sounds; I can see this going big in the international charts, and dominating the dance club airplay.   “Video Phone”, produced by Shondrae Crawford and Sean Garrett, has that Southern Crunk feel to it, and in my opinion, should have been the second single from this album.  My favorite track from this album would have to be “Diva”.  This Lil Wayne-inspired track is driven by her free-styling syncopation, almost rap-like, singing. 

The Bad:   Seriously?  11 tracks for the standard edition disc?  In today’s tough economic times, how exactly are you going to entice Hockey Moms, Teeny Boppers, and Ghetto Fabolous to cop your disc with that miniscule amount of tracks?  At least the deluxe edition is a little better, with 16 tracks. 

As for the tracks, I could’ve lived without “Ave Maria”.  She sings it beautifully, but I just felt that it was lacking something; I found myself snoozing after listening to it.  “Smash into You” seems like an album filler.  The Jerry McGuire-inspired song, “Hello”, is a big schlop-fest.  It did nothing for me, and it seems half-baked. 

The Eh:

“Ego”, from the deluxe version, is the scheduled second single from the Sasha Fierce album.   This up-tempo, old-school throwback produced by Elvis Williams and Harold Lilly (who produced Alicia Keys’ “You Don’t Know my Name”) seems a bit weak to be a second single, but perhaps, to spice it up a bit, rumor has it that Kanye West will be doing a remix; that ought to be interesting. 

“Radio”, produced by Jim Jonsin (who produced T.I.’s “Whatever You Like” and Danity Kane’s “Show Stopper”), seems a bit simplistic, though it definitely has that radio-friendly vibe to it.  Maybe it will grow on me on multiple listens.  

Final Verdict. 

Beyoncé apparently recorded over 70 songs over a course of a year for this album, before whittling it down to the 16 tracks.  This is her first album without any collaborations/duets, and sure there are some obvious hiccups, but for the most part, she delivers.  Go ahead and cop your copy of I AM…Sasha Fierce, available now on iTunes with a special bonus song “Why Don’t You Love Me” and in your friendly (and rapidly disappearing) big box stores, and online mp3 retailers. 

B/B+

Episode Nine: Civil Unions vs Marriage: Separate but Equal?

As it reads now, California Family Code Section 300 defines marriage as being “a personal relation arising out of a civil contract between a man and a woman, to which the consent of the parties capable of making that contract is necessary.” 

With Proposition 8’s passage, there has been much discussion as to where do we go from here?  But what I ask is, maybe it is time to “create a separate but equal” institution?  Render the term “marriage” as religious term, and establish civil unions as the federally recognized contract, in keeping with the separation of church and state doctrine of our Constitution.     

Let's make it simple: to obtain benefits provided to couples by the State (taxes, health insurance, among other things), you apply for a civil union, regardless of your gender.   If you want a religious or spiritual blessing, you seek that from your place of worship, whether you're gay or straight. When we follow the Constitution's mandate of the separation of Church and State, we can delineate what each body's business is in the process of uniting people in couplehood.  In this way, we are giving everyone equal rights under the law, without damaging the “meaning” of marriage. 

In an ideal world, this should work.  Alas, that’s not the world we live in, at least right now.  In addition to California, Arizona, Florida, and Arkansas passed anti-gay ballot measures.  Florida and Arizona voters approved a constitutional amendment to limit marriage to opposite sex couples, and in Arkansas, which already has the constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage, has passed a measure to limit adoption and foster care of children to people who are legally married.  

However, there’s hope.  In 2000, Prop 22, which prevented California from recognizing same-sex marriage, passed with a 61.4% approval (38.6% opposed, which were about 2.9 million no on Prop 22 votes); eight years later, support for gay marriage has increased to 47% of the votes casted, to over 5.2 million .  That’s a remarkable turnaround of voter approval.  Exit polls showed that six in 10 voters under 30 objected to Proposition 8, while the same proportion of persons over 65 supported the measure, giving hope that I’ll be able to see acceptance of gay marriage in California during my lifetime.    

In addition, the May 2007 California Supreme Court decision that in essence struck down Prop. 22, has left the door open for a possible repeal of Proposition 8, in the same vein as what happened with Prop. 22.  I have spoken informally with Stuart Gaffney, one of the plaintiffs in this landmark May 2007 case, about the prospects of the recent lawsuits challenging the recent passage of Proposition 8 on grounds that Proposition 8 constituted as a “revision” in the Constitution, which requires a 2/3 vote from both branches of the California State Legislature before being put up for a vote.  He’s cautiously optimistic about the case, in which he bestows his full support and trust on the lead attorneys in this case.

It is also encouraging to see elected officials filing “friend of the court” in opposition of Proposition 8.  And as a country, we’ve elected a president that would usher in change; it also helps that he has backed the repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act. 

Above all, if we as a state voted to give farm animals more rights, surely, we can give our fellow human beings the opportunity to express their love, right?  I hope so.  But ultimately, what we all can do to further the cause for equality for all is more education.  Forty years ago, we still had laws prohibiting interracial marriage in sixteen states, until Loving v Virginia deemed these miscegenation laws unconstitutional.  And now, generations later, as a society, we have come to terms of acceptance and tolerance with regards to interracial marriages, and I hope for the same with same-sex marriage.  Tolerance is a dish served best with education, and not cold.

P.S. I higly recommend watching MSNBC's Keith Olbermann's Special Comment on Gay Marriage. At times, I think he could be a bit over the top, but I think this time, he was spot-on, and he eloquently expressed what I would wish to say.  

The Halloween Scene, according to Christian Siriano

Halloween is the time of the year when it’s socially acceptable to unleash our inner fantasies and act out on our fetishes; it's the time of the year when giving your best impersonation of Paris Hilton on donut powder is not only permissible, but socially acceptable as the norm. 

For the longest time, I didn’t know what to be for Halloween.  I almost didn’t want to dress up and go out because rain was in the forecast for Halloween; I don’t like going out in the rain.  And another thing: I’d like to spend as little money as possible on my costumes.  So, I either borrow clothes/costumes from other people or the more likely scenario, I choose costumes that I can still wear after Halloween. Last year, I was a French Man, wearing all black, topped off with a burette (that cost $9); when I was a junior in college, I dressed up on a Navy uniform that I borrowed from my sister. 

More importantly, I hate waiting in lines; I much rather attend house parties on Halloween because of this reason.  No thanks to my busy school schedule, lately, I’ve climbed into such social isolation that this year’s Halloween crept up on me, so I decided to take the easy way out and just attend the KY/DSD party at Suite 181. 

All that was left to do was to figure out what I wanted to be for Halloween, which was harder than I thought.  On my way home from work, my friend and I were throwing around ideas, and given my limitations, there weren’t that many; we finally came to an agreement that I should be Christian Siriano from Project Runway.    I’m not as fierce and fabulous as that diminutive diva, but I figured I could give it a whirl.

Finding the necessary things turned out to be easier than I thought.  After school on Friday, I went out to Crossroads on Irving, and within 5 minutes, found what I needed to channel the classic Christian/Ferosh look:  black-rimmed glasses and a black vest; with my skinny jeans and white tee at home, I was set, and all for under $16.  The hardest part was trying to make my hair look like his, which required blow drying, flat-ironing, dry waxing, and hair spraying the crap out of my hair.  It may seem so hard to believe, but I’m very low-maintenance when it comes to my hair.          

Even with all the damage that my hair sustained, by the time that I got in line for the club, my hair lost its grandiose style.  Luckily, I was able to cut in line with a few of my friends and didn’t have to wait that long to get in. 

As I meandered around the it’s-so-hot-it-feels-like-a-sauna- rooms, I got to check out what crazy costume ideas people came up with.  You had your staples (policewomen, flight attendants, Greek goddesses).  It being an election season, I was disappointed that I didn’t see any Sarah-Palin-look-alikes or her derivatives (moose, Joe Six Packs, Mr. Palin).  There were some good costumes, like a breathalyzer machine (with a properly placed mouth piece), the “Love Robot”, and my friend’s “when pigs fly” costume.  But by far, my favorite costume of the night was the shower curtain; the guy who was “wearing” the costume had his girlfriend (or girlfriend for the night) with him inside.  Creative, naughty, and not nasty, a good combination.  I couldn’t help myself but to close the curtain a few times. 

The thing with Halloween, or for any “big” parties for that matter, is that for the most part, it will not live up to its expectations and hype.  In a sense, sometimes the “chase” is better than the “kill”, that the events and preparation leading up to it can sometimes be more fun the event itself. Don’t get me wrong, I had a good time with my friends, but sometimes, I just don’t get the big deal out of it.  Maybe it’s just our society’s ways of dealing with its hypocritical “moral values”, granting a momentary reprieve to its subjects?  Perhaps as overworked Americans, we have created specific times when we can let loose, so that we can live through the monotonous nature of the “real world” and have something to look forward to?

Maybe next year I should dress up like Paris Hilton? No, I’m too fierce for that female dog.  

Episode Seven: Paddling at Stow Lake

San Francisco weather has its ways of altering my plans.  At least this time, it was a welcomed change, one that didn’t require muttering to myself, “Just because it’s sunny in Mission Bay, doesn’t mean that the sun is out in the Sunset.” As a part of this series, I planned on going to see a movie alone this past weekend, but seeing that the weather was so beautiful (and so un-San Francisco-y), I decided to skip out on that and see what sorts of trouble I can get myself into at Golden Gate Park.

After asking around for some ideas for this series, someone suggested that I paddle rowboats at Stow Lake, and I thought it was brilliant at the time.  After forking over my $20, I ventured over to the docks to board the last remaining rowboat for the day.   (Seriously, $20 an hour to paddle around the green murky waters of Stow Lake?  On the bright side, I probably increased my likelihood of contracting something that will land me at Moffitt; I call that a steal!). 

At first, I decided that I wanted to paddle the rowboat by myself, as a part of that whole “doing things by myself” routine.  After all, how hard could it be, right?  For about five minutes, I was barely moving; I kept going the opposite way that I intended to go.  It was one of the most petrifying five minutes of my life.  This is probably what it feels like to be Sarah Palin without her debate note cards (with the words “maverick” and “Joe six-pack” written on it).  After what it felt like forever, I wasn’t really going anywhere, so I enlisted the “help” of my CouchSurfing friend from Australia, who was laughing hysterically at the docks as I made a complete fool of myself.  

After a short lesson, I got the hang of this rowboat thing; one oar for turning the boat in a certain direction, two oars in the same direction to propel the rowboat forward.  Who knew that I was nautically-inclined?

With paddling the rowboat requiring less mind power, I was able to focus more on observing other people as I paddled along the lake (my friend served as my coxswain, for the most part).  Along the way, we encountered a few couples in their rowboats, enjoying the serene and romantic atmosphere of the lake.  There were moms and babysitters taking their little tykes for a walk and enjoying their trek along the lake.  There was a solitary runner who appeared to have been busy ruminating about his place in the world and the true meaning of life.  There was also an old couple, enjoying a picnic by the lake, somewhat amused at my lack of coordination and at my propensity to induce giant splashes while rowing. 

My Aussie friend suggested that paddling a rowboat alone is futile.  He reasoned that rowing is such an engaging activity that is meant to be enjoyed with the company of others; for a more obvious reason, he pointed out that I probably would’ve run into the mangrove trees or to another boat if I rowed by myself.  Touché. 

While he might be right with the clumsiness aspect, I think rowing could still be done as a solitary activity.  It would be a great way to decompress and de-stress, combining a strenuous physical activity with serenity and plenty of fresh air.  Even with his “guidance”, we still had a few close calls with mangrove trees or other rowboats, so maybe next time I should just get a better coxswain. 

This is part three of the series in which I go alone to events normally associated with couples.  Next week, I will try going solo to a movie, forreals this time.  

Episode Six: Alone with Mark Anthony... at a Restaurant

I’m going to make a confession:  I have never eaten at a sit-down restaurant by myself before.  I mean, I’ve eaten by myself before at the Nurseteria while studying, but I would normally run into someone that I know and end up eating with that person.   I’ve always wanted to do it, but never had the nerve to try it. 

So, the other day, I went to Andalu, a Tapas-style restaurant in the Mission, to try to get over myself and just go ahead and get on with it.  I resisted the temptation to bring a book to read or listen to my mp3 player as I ate dinner because that would defeat the whole purpose of eating alone.  Sure, it would be a little unnerving at first, with the occasional awkward stares from people, but what doesn’t kill don’t hurt me, right?

So, when I got to the restaurant, I was a little nervous that I almost talked myself out of it.  What is it about eating alone that is scary, I asked myself.  Is it the idea that people would look at me funny? (Not that people already don’t do that, but even more so)  Or perhaps the fear of being alone and the perceived stigma that is associated with being alone?  With my busy school and extra-curricular schedule, I have always reasoned that there’s always someone that I haven’t seen in awhile that I could be spending some quality time with, so when I do find myself without dinner plans, I resort to calling around and end up finding someone to eat with.  As my friend pointed out to me, I may be going to dinner by myself, but I should think of it as me going out on a date with San Francisco.  I felt much better after that.

As I entered the restaurant, the hostess asked me how many people in my party (one) and whether I’d like to sit at the bar; I elected to sit at a table to get the “full” experience.  The place was not as busy as it could be, seeing that it was Monday night, so I got waited on pretty quickly, and I placed my order.

As the server brought out my Cambazola Cheese Fondue with Fuji Apples and Asian Pears, the irony of it all didn’t escape me.  She asked me whether I was expecting someone else (a valid question, in her defense), and after saying no, awkwardness ensued; she politely excused herself out to attend to her other tables. 

There’s something to be said about dining alone; it takes a little bit of bravery and self-assuredness.  There’s something liberating about being able to eat alone; it’s that feeling of empowerment and self-reliance that is appealing, but at the same time, nerve-wracking.  More than anything else, it made me more aware and relaxed; I’ve finally found the time to spend some “me” time.  In our busy lives, we never really have the chance to stop and do just that, and we should take advantage of this whenever we can.

Even if you do feel less brave or less self-assured, it shouldn’t stop you from doing it in the first place.   We learn a lot when we’re faced in difficult situations, when we’re not in our comfort zone.  Personal growth comes from weathering difficult situations and learning from them.  We should always strive to improve ourselves whenever we can; a seemingly insignificant act such as eating alone accomplishes this.

So all of those fears, the weird stares, they did happen, but I’m still standing and have lived to tell the tale.