Berbers are considered the first and oldest inhabitants of Morocco long before the Arabs and French came.  They are considered the backward and less-developed people of the country in terms of adopting to the new technology and modern ways of living.  The word “barbarian” was actually based from this large ethnic community.

While here in Morocco, spending a magnificent 2-week holiday, people seem amazed with my rare look.  People of Morocco has mistaken me to be a Japanese, a Chinese, a Korean, a Malaysian, a Mexican, an American, and even a Guatemalan.  No Moroccan inhabitant guessed right where I came from.  And when I told them that I came from the beautiful tropical country of the Philippines, they would give me a blank reaction thinking if there actually exists a country by such name.

After numerous times of telling the local people where I came from and tired of explaining what and where Philippines is, I settled on telling everyone that I am a Berber.  Upon hearing this, they would usually give me a big smile or a warm hug and they seem to look proud of my willingness to be part of their system.

As an intial impression, people of Morocco no doubt looks and sounds rough and unrefined but if you will get to know and understand them better, they are actually caring and welcoming.  They are like their bread, hard and crunchy on the outside but soft and fluffy in the inside.

People of Morocco for me has been an irony of robust and unrefined grace mixed with warm hospitality.  Their dealings with people, tourists or non-tourists, is a kaleidoscope of undescribable roughness which actually adds to the charm and color of the nation.

Di pwede ang mahina ang loob dito.  Basta Berber ako dito.  Grrrr!

Passport, check.  Cash and plastic money, check.  Luggage, check.  Travel insurance, check.  Hotel accommodations, check.  Airline e-ticket, check.  Clothes, sandals & undergarments, check.  Toiletries, check.  Camera, iPod, cellphone and chargers, check.  Cellphone international roaming application, check.  Shades, Yosi and lighter, check.  Approval for a 2-week vacation leave, check.  A haircut good for 2 weeks before considered too long check.  Endorse to Nengkoy to water the plants in my veranda while I’m away, check.  A piece of brain and a lot of common sense, check.  Delicious body, check.

Tomorrow is the start of my 2-week north African adventure.  I can’t wait to get loco in Morocco…

Yahuuuu!

I never thought that I would be the program emcee in the first gay pageant that I would personally watch and witness.

Unlike the usual relay competitions, parlor games, team building events and other outdoor physical activities held during the annual summer outing by various companies around the country, the support service units of the company I’m presently working with decided to stage a unique and unusual program.  Held in the hot spring resorts capital of Pinas (Pansol, Laguna) we had a gay beauty pageant and named it Ms. Summer Queen 2009.

The program was a big blast, bringing all my co-employees to laught out loud and literally roll on the floor because of the side-splitting antiques presented by the schizophrenic drag queen candidates.  There were only 5 participants but seeing them transmogrified in a totally different form was unexpectedly hilarious.

Gerard was nymphetty pretty, Leo (the crowned winner) was surprisingly stunning.  Red was such a contrarian by being slutty yet charming.  Sofie was the archetype representation of ferocious sophistication.  By the way, not all candidates were gay.  There was Pekto who joines, cross-dressed and morphed to look like an androgenous lady.  He added more to the riot, unmindful in flashing his scary huge tattooes on his forearms, shoulders and upper torso.

I don’t give a rat’s ass about how other companies’ reaction on us changing the usual concept and traditional outdoor summer activities.  The wacky pageant made our summer outing this year unique and like no other.

As for my emceeing, I considered it the toughest hosting stint I ever had for I need to contain and control my laughter while the program is running.

Mapapa-utot ka talaga sa katatawa! 

It was an amazing weekend! I never thought that my trip and weekend vacation to Macau would be very enjoyable. Macau is a place that a lot of people have yet to discover. The air was surprisingly clean, there was literally no traffic, the people are okay and the infrastructures were great.

Prior to leaving for Macau a lot of people relayed that why should I and my usual tour-mates (Karen & Denton) go there when there are only few places to go to. Well, our Macau adventure proved them wrong.

First hour was already an adventure by trying to look for a restaurant that would fill our empty stomachs. Not all restos in Macau have English-translated menu. Nevertheless, we ended up in a rickety restaurant with somewhat cleanliness problem and non-English speaking servers yet the food they served were superb. We enjoyed it so much we decided to dine back after 2 days of touring around the metro, 2 nights of casino playing and before retreating back to our hotel. Too bad I don’t know the name of the restaurant. It’s written in Chinese characters!

It was in Macau that I ate a fried pigeon for the first time – authentic bird-flu-free kalapating mababa ang lipad. Poor pigeon, even the head with its beak was served munched to the delight by Denton. A true Lutong Macau experience!

All nighs we spent in Macau were in various casino-hotels trying to compare one from the other. Macau adventure would not be complete without playing the casinos. We played every single night that we were there – Ponte 16, Hotel Lisboa, The Sands, The Venetian casinos. We also entered Wynn Hotel & Casino and Casino Jai-Alai but did not played there. The most majestic from my own point of view was the Venetian followed closely by Wynn. The place truly lived up to its name being the Las Vegas of Asia.

I personally loved the Macau Wine and Grand Prix Museums. These tourist spots we learned were being manned by Filipinos. A close second was the Senado Square with lots of shops and tourists trying to find the best bargain. I also enjoyed the fabulous St. Paul Ruins and the amazing Mount Fortress.

One let down though. Chinese people have not over come the habit of “dahak” and yucky spitting. Never did the day passed that we did not hear the local men – with all their might – trying to disgorge their sticky phlegm out from the deepest pit of their nasal cavity so as to spew it out even in the public.

Pinoys will never get lost in Macau. There is always a Pinoy somewhere – inside the resto, the boutique, the plaza, the bus, the hotel, the street, the casino, the restroom. We’re everywhere!

O basta! Hindi lutong makaw sa Macau…

It was my first time to step in the majestic church of our Lady of Manaoag.  The first thing I felt was tranquility even if there was presence of a lot of pilgrims.  The Lady standing at the altar was very peaceful and serene.  It gave me a warm feeling.

Being in the church premise gave me the feeling of old Pinas where mendicants are present just right outside of the church yard.  Unlike here in Manila mendicants are everywhere out to harass everyone.

What did I prayed for?  Certainly, I prayed for peace and simplicity on the complexities of life ahead.  I prayed for all my relatives, friends, co-workers and myself.  I also prayed for all the requests and desires of all people inside the church.  Of course, I thanked God for all the blessings that came and will come my way.

There is a belief that a person should wish for something when entering a church for the first time.  Without doubt, I did wish for something which I would not want to reveal.  Only God knows.  It’s one thing that I would like to keep as a secret between me and Him.  I know that through the intercession of our Lady of Manaoag this wish will eventually come true.

Actually, spending the whole day with Nengkoy and the whole family going to and from Manaoag talking about life experiences is already one great wish that already came true.  I’m looking forward to returning and visiting the Lady.

Simpleng saya, simpleng ligaya. ‘Yan ang gusto ko!

One of the surprisingly and amazingly organized places in the Philippines, Corregidor Island boasts of its majestic beauty and historic sifnificance.  The small island that I recently visited was way beyond my expectations.  Everything was orderly and well planned that could be comparable to Singapore’s Sentosa Island without the thrilling rides but contains the rubbles and ruins left by World War II.  Even the tour guides were impressive, sharing and relaying short anecdotes significant about the island (from the people who’s been there down to the trees and animals that thrive around).  I was glad that I got to set foot to this historic island.  It was simply amazing.

The sight that truly impressed me was the stalwart Malinta tunnel.  I thought it was just a single crawlway penetrating underground from one side of the mountain up to the other end.  But what is remarkable are the multiple intricate lateral tunnels branching from the main one that served as a hide-away hospital and bomb shelters during the WWII era.  The historic lateral tunnels are eerie, ragged and humid.  It’s like being in another universe.  From the outside terrain of the mountain, you would not imagine that such creepy structures exist inside it.

One thing that made my heart sank was the presence of trash along the seashore washed away from the filthy and polluted Manila Bay.  A grim reminder that the island is truly located in the Philippines.  The island could have been a perfect foreign tourist destination if not for those eyesore garbage.

Bilib ako.  Promise!

March 18, 2009, at Kingsford Smith International Airport check-in counter…

Lady at the Counter:  “Hi! Good Morning!”

Neil:  “Hello!” (while I put my big heavy luggage on the conveyor to measure how much it weighs)

Lady at the Counter:  “It’s over the limit.  I’m sorry but you have to reduce the load by at least 3 kilos.”

Neil:  “Okay, for a moment…”

This was the circumstance when I took my luggage out from the conveyor, lay it on the floor and swiftly opened it.  Right in the middle of the airport my suitcase vomited all its content in public.  Worried with big sweats secreting out of my forehead, I hurriedly pulled out a reserved ever-reliable Chinese Louis Vuitton and a number of shirts from the luggage.  I put all shirts that I could scoop-out into the plastic woven bag, thanking myself that I brought along a life-saving Chinese Louis Vuitton bag.  I closed and locked my luggage and placed it again on the conveyor.

Seeing the weight indicator flashing 24 kilos…

Lady at the Counter:  “Oh! That’s perfect!”

Neil: “Yeah!”

Lady at the Counter: “That folding bag has always been very reliable.” (while pointing at the Chinese Louis Vuitton whose straps are now on my shoulder being my additional hand-carry luggage)

Neil:  “You bet it has always been…” (while I reached for my passport and boarding pass as she hands those over to me)

Lady at the Counter:  “Have a nice flight.”

Neil: “Thanks!”

With full confidence possessed with rare fashion sense, I went further inside the airport looking for gate #24.

Ang bayong, bow!

Like the fate of a sandcastle during high tide, the memory of my Aussie Adventure will fade.  But through this blog, it will forever be remembered…

March 6 – had a 360-degrees view of the city at Sydney Tower’s observation deck, the highest attraction of Sydney;  I was astounded by OzTrek, a large simulated ride traversing Australia’s culture and history;  went to Australia’s oldest museum, Australian Museum; was amazed about Sydney’s past and tales of European convicts’ travel ships when we visited Hyde Park’s eerie Barracks Museum; had lunch at Sydney Center

Marh 7 – Stayed at Bourke Street in Surry Hills to rest and watch Australian TV shows the whole day; had dinner at Non La, a Vietnamese restaurant along Fitzroy Street

March 8 – Shopping on weekend Paddington Market, a church yard turned into a market on weekends; had lunch and window shopping at Bondi Junction; had dinner at Simon’s Place and meet his friends Bianca a South African and May a Vietnamese

March 9 – Shopped at Inner West DFO; explored the Sydney Olympic Park the venue of Sydney Summer Olympics a couple of years ago; walked along and had a mouth-watering dinner at Chinatown; strolled Darling Harbour and Cockle Bay Wharf at night

March 10 – Rode a ferry to cross the Sydney Harbour overlooking the Opera House; went to Taronga Zoo located at the northside of the harbour; rode the city tram; played slot machine and had dinner at Star City, Sydney’s only casino

March 11 – Lazed and sunbathe at majestic Coogee Beach the whole day; strolled and jogged at Sydney Park, a huge suburban park out of the city; had Pinoy dinner at Edgar’s Place ate menudo and tinolang manok

March 12 – Went to City Center and had lunch with Jericho at David Jones foodhalls; window shopping at Australia’s two major department stores, David Jones and Myer shopping centers; strolled inside the stunning building and domed roof of Queen Victoria Building

Mayabang na kung mayabang! Minsan lang naman…

It was a different Palm Sunday from the usual Palm Sundays that I would have. For one, I spent it in Sydney Australia. I attended the Holy Mass in Australia’s mother church of Catholicism and where this year’s World Youth Day will be held, at St Mary Cathedral.

The experience was very different from the Pinoy set-up. The palms used were not the colorfully decorated ones and not the intricately weaved type like the ones available in Manila.

The palm leaf that they use was a plain and simple leaf cut into small portions. Also, it is for free as provided for by the church. Unlike in the Philippines, you got to spend a couple of pesos to buy the most beautifully designed handcrafted Palm. That is why, palm leaves in the Philippines gets endangered to near extinction during this time of the year.

The mass was simple yet solemn. I was surprise to witness that the cathedral was full-packed and a lot of Catholics attended the mass of different nationalities. That is why the mass had simple short prayers done by selected youths of Sydney spoken in different languages. I was amazed that the second person to pray was a young Filipina praying in the Tagalog dialect. I noticed that it was the only Asian language spoken during the short prayers, the rest were either of European or of African language.

It was so cool to find out that the church officials allowed us to sit on the floor for comfort since the church no longer has areas where church goers can rest their heavy butts.

I also noticed that the folks after the Holy Mass did not bring home their respective blessed palm leaves. They would either dump it into the trash or return it in the basket where they got it at the entrance/exit doors.

In my case, I brought it with me like every Pinoy folk would do. It’s blessed and will be in my house in Manila for the next twelve months. I still believe (like every Pinoy does) that these leaves drives away the bad spirits, ghosts and evil monsters like “bampiras” and “manananggals”.

Siguro walang aswang dito sa Sydney kaya tinatapon lang nila!