Blooper #1: I step off our car at the Ninoy Aquino International Airport and say goodbye to everyone. On the way in, the guard asks me what flight I'm on. Papa says the Emirates flight. I scream, "no! Lufthansa!" and start walking to the Lufthansa signboard. Then I stop dead, look at my ticket, turn back and smile. "Ay, oo, Emirates nga."
Blooper #2: I'm on the plane. I want to watch a dvd, or at least get my in-flight entertainment system to work. Trouble is, I can't find the lcd touch screen. It's usually nestled in the back of each seat (for the benefit of the one seated behind), but since I was in a row right beside the emergency exit, there was no passenger seat in front of me. So where could my screen be?? I look around, nonchalantly of course, until the person beside me pops his screen out from beside his seat. Oh, so there it is. Hmm, now how I do that? I start pulling at the thing, and pull and pull until it occurs to me that I might actually be damaging plane property. I stop, dejected. After which my seatmate gently leans over, pushes a button on my armrest, and out pops my screen.
Blooper#3: I walk out of my hotel in London to go to our office, which is less than five minutes away. I am damned sure I can do this, because I was just there last night. I had even walked around the block, trying to memorize the streets. So anyway, I'm outside the hotel, pondering on whether to turn right or left (people, this is the quickest indication of a person about to get into a mess). I turn right, and less than 10 steps on I immediately notice the fact the I can't recognize my surroundings. Yet I keep walking. Towards the other corner. Towards the main highway. I reach the corner and realize that I'm heading to the other side of town. But instead of turning straight back, I turn right again. I am, in effect, going around the entire block that covers not just my hotel, but another office building. I honestly can't understand why I continue walking even though I already know I'm going the wrong way. It's a lost-in-space moment, I guess. Five minutes turn into 20, and I arrive at the office with messy hair and numb feet.
Blooper# 4: I forget The List in my hotel room. The all-important list contains the names of market sector managers, technical directors and all the other people I need to talk to, the very reason I went to our London offiice. I only remember a couple of names, and they're not so important, so boohoo.
Blooper #5: Everyone knows this already. I get off the tour bus at Green Park after a morning of walking and touring. I'm quite confident that I know the area because I walked through it the previous night already (lesson: don't ever trust nighttime vision). I look for my landmark, the Ritz Hotel, because I know it's just off Piccadilly and quite near Oxford St, where I'm planning to go for some pasalubong shopping. Sure, I do find the Ritz. Unfortunately, it's the other side of the Ritz. I now wish I were playing Sims or using some 3-d animation software where I could tilt the structures and find the proper orientiation, but I can't. I'm just a small person between big buildings trying to find where the front door of the Ritz is. Pero puchangina, everthing looks THE SAME! So I walk. To wherever. And just walk. Like I said, it's alright to get lost. But why now when I've got four hours left to shop before I run to the airport? Buti na lang I walk by a flea market in front of a church (how Pinoy) and manage to buy amber trinkets that my mom wanted me to get. Then I remember I have another landmark I could use. Pret A Manger, that sandwich place I saw last night. So I walk walk walk. There it is! But then it doesn't look so familiar..Then it dawns on me. Well, more of I suddenly remember what Duncan said a few days ago, that Pret A Manger is everywhere, literally. There's probably one in every corner of London! A fucken 7-11 for sandwiches! By this time I am so depressed I just want to sit on the pavement. But I can't really do that because now I've only got three hours before ETD for Heathrow Airport. So I do what I should've done an hour ago: Ask. I run up to a guy cleaning the sidewalk and ask where Oxford St is. He points to the other direction, straight ahead. FINALLY. I walk and heave when I see "Oxford St" on a signpost. And then, the ultimate question (drumroll)...left or right?
Blooper #6: I turn left. I get the same feeling I got when I turned right from my hotel before. Because alas, the shops are on the right side. So. Feet numb. Hair in disarray. Scarf undone and trailing behind. Jacket loosened and falling off. Bag heavy and, well, HEAVY. I walk into the first store I see, Marks & Spencer -- I find it odd, by the way, that I chance upon M&S just now because in London it's also like a 7-11 for clothes. I get in, look for the underwear section, and sit on the floor for a good 10 minutes. I grab all the cutesy undies I can find for my cousin, a couple of other items for the bf, and then trudge back to my hotel. I know perfectly where it is. I swear.
More to come.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
London Part 1
So nabura yung folder full of pictures sa flashdisk ko. It got replaced by an empty folder with an unreadable name. I have no idea how it happened. Crap.
But just so you know, I did have fun in London. I was there during the mildest winter London has had in 90 years. Whoa! I don't know if I should feel lucky about not freezing to death, or dismayed at the effects of global warming. Flowers were blooming where frost should've been! Squirrels were out, the grass was greener than ever (people were buying lawn mowers. In the middle of winter!). On one hand it led to higher yields from orchards and farms, but the disastrous effects of climate change apparent in animal and plant life cannot be ignored, either. Newborns could not cope with the "early spring" for example, and animals in hibernation could no longer, well, hibernate.
It was such a weird episode in London this time of year, and everyone noticed.
Anyway. I wonder how I could begin to describe the city that I'd only seen in postcards and read about in The History of the World and my grandmother's fascinating books on old royalty.
Hmm. Top of my head I'd say it's very quick, full of life, funny and quirky in some instances, heavy, dark and brooding in others.
But what really surprised me was how people treat the city with such...good-natured irreverence, if ever there is such. What can I say, it's the British humor I so love.
The urban landscape says it all. On one side of the River Thames stands the Westminster Abbey and Big Ben: large, historic, undeniably majestic. You can sense the weight of its presence, and the onus is upon you to pay respect. Meanwhile across the river, a stone's throw away, is the London Eye: cutting edge structure, modern steel and glass, and quite imposing as only a glorified ferris wheel can be. It evokes youthfulness, excitement and a bit of humor - right now one viewing pod is painted bright red, a funny aberration among the all-clear, space-age viewing pods.
Upon first glimpse you'd think, well this ain't right. How unbalanced, conflicting...disjointed. The Eye looks frivolous compared to the purposeful Abbey, and yet the Abbey looks a tad bit tired and boring amidst the flurry of activity on the other side of river. What kind of urbanity does this depict? Why, it's no better than the unplanned, incoherent cities of the Third World! I pointed this out to Duncan while walking along the river bank, and he made a remark that left me silent and thoughtful. He said, "well, that's the beauty of it you see." I strained. He continued. "What do you think would happen if we stopped building new structures? If we get stuck in the old and not move forward?" He almost questioned the rationale of leaving old things old and untouched. What I saw as a desecration of a glorious past, he saw as ever constant and positive movement.
I stopped and looked again at the London Eye and the Abbey. From an angle you can capture both in one frame of a photograph. Standing side by side, they were, indeed, beautiful - separately and together.
Cruising along River Thames you can see the same thing happening everywhere. Old buildings mixed with new, the former just as beautiful as the latter. The new Office of Mayor looks like it's been uprooted out of a Dubai location and transplanted onto the Thames riverbank. A few steps from that futuristic building is a replica of The Globe Theater (the original was destroyed), and the old pub where Shakespeare and friends used to drink themselves blind. It's open to this day.
In this city everything has a purpose. Duncan pointed out the pathway leading to Buckingham Palace. It's for the queen and dignitaries visiting the queen, "but it's also a road, it leads to places, so we use it." Nothing goes to waste, nothing is left unremembered, or taken for granted, or lost in vain. The old pathways work just as well as the new ones. Trains, built in the Victorian times, have been built to last and are still being used. They are very old, yes, but terribly on time (Proof? I missed my train by two seconds.). Even then, they are up for some refurbishment, so Transport for London is once again having them upgraded. Panels across the platforms are being stripped away, revealing old signage. They are again to be replaced to serve the present generation of commuters, like they have done so for more than a hundred years.
Everywhere something new is being built - as evidenced by the countless gantry cranes dotting the sky - and something old is being reused, refitted, reborn. Everyday. It never stops. The city is always in the making. And yet everywhere something old is being preserved or protected, from houses where poets once lived ("xxxx used to live here") to a memorial for the all the valuable things that England "nicked" from Egypt.
It's paradoxical, in a way. Tiny streets and big taxis, roadside parking and huge avenues. Extremely proper manners (no texting during meetings, no sir!) and loud, potbellied, thigh-slapping tour guides. But I think what Duncan was trying to say is that, whatever happens, London is ever alive in the present. And it is. It truly is a living, breathing history, one that has its pulse on the present and future.
By lunchtime on my last day, I finally got rid of all the preconceptions I had about London. Now all I had to do was find my way to shopping heaven. Or hell?
But just so you know, I did have fun in London. I was there during the mildest winter London has had in 90 years. Whoa! I don't know if I should feel lucky about not freezing to death, or dismayed at the effects of global warming. Flowers were blooming where frost should've been! Squirrels were out, the grass was greener than ever (people were buying lawn mowers. In the middle of winter!). On one hand it led to higher yields from orchards and farms, but the disastrous effects of climate change apparent in animal and plant life cannot be ignored, either. Newborns could not cope with the "early spring" for example, and animals in hibernation could no longer, well, hibernate.
It was such a weird episode in London this time of year, and everyone noticed.
Anyway. I wonder how I could begin to describe the city that I'd only seen in postcards and read about in The History of the World and my grandmother's fascinating books on old royalty.
Hmm. Top of my head I'd say it's very quick, full of life, funny and quirky in some instances, heavy, dark and brooding in others.
But what really surprised me was how people treat the city with such...good-natured irreverence, if ever there is such. What can I say, it's the British humor I so love.
The urban landscape says it all. On one side of the River Thames stands the Westminster Abbey and Big Ben: large, historic, undeniably majestic. You can sense the weight of its presence, and the onus is upon you to pay respect. Meanwhile across the river, a stone's throw away, is the London Eye: cutting edge structure, modern steel and glass, and quite imposing as only a glorified ferris wheel can be. It evokes youthfulness, excitement and a bit of humor - right now one viewing pod is painted bright red, a funny aberration among the all-clear, space-age viewing pods.
Upon first glimpse you'd think, well this ain't right. How unbalanced, conflicting...disjointed. The Eye looks frivolous compared to the purposeful Abbey, and yet the Abbey looks a tad bit tired and boring amidst the flurry of activity on the other side of river. What kind of urbanity does this depict? Why, it's no better than the unplanned, incoherent cities of the Third World! I pointed this out to Duncan while walking along the river bank, and he made a remark that left me silent and thoughtful. He said, "well, that's the beauty of it you see." I strained. He continued. "What do you think would happen if we stopped building new structures? If we get stuck in the old and not move forward?" He almost questioned the rationale of leaving old things old and untouched. What I saw as a desecration of a glorious past, he saw as ever constant and positive movement.
I stopped and looked again at the London Eye and the Abbey. From an angle you can capture both in one frame of a photograph. Standing side by side, they were, indeed, beautiful - separately and together.
Cruising along River Thames you can see the same thing happening everywhere. Old buildings mixed with new, the former just as beautiful as the latter. The new Office of Mayor looks like it's been uprooted out of a Dubai location and transplanted onto the Thames riverbank. A few steps from that futuristic building is a replica of The Globe Theater (the original was destroyed), and the old pub where Shakespeare and friends used to drink themselves blind. It's open to this day.
In this city everything has a purpose. Duncan pointed out the pathway leading to Buckingham Palace. It's for the queen and dignitaries visiting the queen, "but it's also a road, it leads to places, so we use it." Nothing goes to waste, nothing is left unremembered, or taken for granted, or lost in vain. The old pathways work just as well as the new ones. Trains, built in the Victorian times, have been built to last and are still being used. They are very old, yes, but terribly on time (Proof? I missed my train by two seconds.). Even then, they are up for some refurbishment, so Transport for London is once again having them upgraded. Panels across the platforms are being stripped away, revealing old signage. They are again to be replaced to serve the present generation of commuters, like they have done so for more than a hundred years.
Everywhere something new is being built - as evidenced by the countless gantry cranes dotting the sky - and something old is being reused, refitted, reborn. Everyday. It never stops. The city is always in the making. And yet everywhere something old is being preserved or protected, from houses where poets once lived ("xxxx used to live here") to a memorial for the all the valuable things that England "nicked" from Egypt.
It's paradoxical, in a way. Tiny streets and big taxis, roadside parking and huge avenues. Extremely proper manners (no texting during meetings, no sir!) and loud, potbellied, thigh-slapping tour guides. But I think what Duncan was trying to say is that, whatever happens, London is ever alive in the present. And it is. It truly is a living, breathing history, one that has its pulse on the present and future.
By lunchtime on my last day, I finally got rid of all the preconceptions I had about London. Now all I had to do was find my way to shopping heaven. Or hell?
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