My 30th Day Stats

Today is my 30th day in Singapore. Here is a quick run-through of what I have done so far:

I’ve been to: Vivo City, Sentosa (mostly at Siloso Beach), 2 Churches at different locations (one a single bus ride away, the other somewhere near Clementeau Avenue), East Coast, a children’s playground at the other block, a Pinoy’s house a few blocks away, Boat Quay, the ladies' room of the Fullerton Hotel, Marina Bay, Esplanade, Suntec Mall, Giant Hypermarket at Tampines, Plaza Singapura, Fort Canning Park, Istana Park, Chinese Garden, Lucky Plaza, Paragon (Mall), East Point Mall, White Sands Mall, a Pinoy family’s house at Bedok, 2 mini supermarkets across the block, Chinatown, Singapore Zoo, Night Safari, Raffles City, Immigration and Checkpoints Authority, Wisma and Takashimaya.

I have taken 12 cab rides and 21 bus rides.

I’ve had 30 train rides, 31 if you count the one when I alighted prematurely. That’s 15 times with the East West Line (Green)—16 if the premature alighting counts, 7 times with the North East Line (Purple), and 8 times with the North South Line (Red). It really isn’t very difficult to count.

I have reloaded my EZ Link card for five times now, my SG SIM card once.

I’ve tried eating at the following establishments: Thai Express, Jumbo Seafood Restaurant (Chili Crab and all that other good stuff! Yum!), Pasta de Waraku (Japanese pizza and pasta—another yum!), a fastfood center at Giant Hypermarket in Tampines where we had Kway Teow, JustAcea (the one with the free-flowing drinks and ice cream as recommended by Benz), KFC (Singaporean kind!), Old Chang Kee, Mr. Bean (the take away taho devoid of sago Ate bought), Food Republic—a food center at Suntec Mall (?) which looks like Hogwart’s library (we had Prawn Mi and a couple of Pratas), a food joint at White Sands Mall where Ate introduced me to Kopi-C and Kaya Toast (which came with almost raw eggs floating in soy sauce…the solid butter sandwiched in between the toasts was the icky part for me), (authentic) Cavana, Canadian Pizza (I was able to try 4 different flavors in one day due to special circumstances—hehe), Carl's Jr. (I’ve never eaten anything in Carl’s Jr. when I was in the Philippines), J. Co Donuts and Coffee where we bought super tasty donuts, Coffee and Toast where we had better glasses of Kopi-C (and where we ate the J. Co donuts. Hehe), a street kiosk where Kate and Erman treated me to a Singaporean version of maruya, Olde Cuban (which reminds me that I didn’t pay Erman for the refreshments we ordered—my apologies), a restaurant in Chinatown where we had several types of dimsum (thanks to Kate and Erman’s friend, Lester, for that) and Burger King where I had the Singaporean Jr. Whopper meal!

There are 4 ice cream bars now peacefully resting inside my system. As I have said before, street ice cream here comes in a bar. I lost count of ice creams I had in scoops.

I have crashed one despedida party where I had a slice of ice cream cake.

I still weigh the same. And I thought I will lose a few of my excess weight. So much for a change in lifestyle, Shom! Well, I’m just glad I haven’t gained extra pounds.

My 40g toothpaste is about to runout. My bar of soap; bottle of shampoo, femenine wash, mouthwash, contact lens solution, and eye lubricant; and tube of hair conditioner are still good. I am halfway to consuming my supply of sanitary pads—I didn't realize how much I use in a month not until I got here.

I’ve applied for around 72 different job openings in various companies for 17 days. Weekends are my days off at job hunting. Plus I wasn’t able to send any resume when I spent the day with Benz, and Kate and Erman; and last Friday when things became a bit toxic. (Benz, I promise to do that quota thing you were advising me to do!)

I have zero job interviews and three “sorry, we don’t need you.” Three to five companies said they received my application and yet I am still in limbo.

I’ve cried twice—or was it thrice?

I have posted 26 blog entries. This will be the 27th. Two entries remain unpublished because I failed to come up with decent conclusions. I’ve added 9 new albums at my Multiply account and published one album which I had saved long ago.

Progress for my potential Kwentong Peyups and My Favorite Movie pieces are both zilch. The word “progress” wouldn’t quite apply to it. I haven’t formulated a strong topic for my next potential Youngblood piece—gawd, I only have 2 years remaining to seize the glory of the Youngblood byline!

Hmm what else? I have 3 maps of Singapore, 1 of Sentosa Island, 1 of Chinatown, 1 of Singapore Zoo, and 1 of the Night Safari—wait, was that a map?

I’ve met two out of three ex-officemates here, and I’ve chatted with one high school classmate who also happens to be here.

And, yeah, I think I’ve been mistaken as Yzee’s yaya once. Yikes!

Getting Lost isn't Hard to Do

I had a great time getting lost today.

It was almost 9 PM when I alighted at the Orchard station all by myself. I have very little clue where to exit. Although I consulted two to three maps, I decided to go with my treacherous instincts only to get lost.

But I didn’t mind. At least I saw for myself the mall called Wisma Atria.

The clue I was working around with was Ate’s tip that Wisma is opposite Lucky Plaza, the home of the Pinoys, and Paragon, the mall where I found Jude Law. So at the MRT station, when I saw the sign pointing to an exit that led to Paragon, by virtue of common sense, I took a 180-degree turn and headed to MY exit.

So there I was, walking around in circles at Wisma when I finally decided to get help from the nearest security guy. With crossed fingers, I approached him to ask how I could get to Takashimaya, my desired destination where I was meeting Kate. It was a mall known for its expensive stores.

I was hoping that the guy’s English would pass my standards of “intelligible.” Otherwise I would be more confused than I already was. Then what do know? Security guy speaks in a nasal manner! We call the likes of him, ngongo. But necessity overpowered language barrier wrapped with a speech impediment. I got to decipher this, “Enter second level, go up (soon I learned he said DOWN, not UP), turn right.”

I said thank you to the guy.

I entered the second level, went down the escalator and turned right after exiting the mall. At that point, I saw a more familiar mallscape. That was where I needed to be. At Orchard Road, not Orchard Boulevard where I initially brought myself to.

I entered Takashimaya. With stores like Louis Vuitton, Channel and what-have-you, I knew I was at the right place. The right place to meet Kate, the right place not to shop.

I guess I did find my way. At 10:44 PM I managed to get back in the house in one piece.

I said, “thank God.”

* * *
A quick flashback.

When I was around six to seven years old, I went with our kasambahay to visit her friend a few streets away from our home. I roughly recall banderitas hanging everywhere so I assume that it was during a fiesta.

At home no one knew I went with her. Everyone thought I was lost. I think they went crazy looking for me.

When our kasambahay and I got home a few hours later, I saw on my parents’ face a mixture of fear and panic. They told me not to do that again, not to leave without telling anyone where I was. That’s how, at a young age, I developed the habit of informing people (mostly my parents) of my whereabouts—where I am, when I’d be home.

Although I did not have to do much of that when I was in LB, I went back into the habit once I moved back home on a 24/7 basis.

Somehow I miss that.

Hollering my version of “Hey, I’m alive!” and getting an “Ingat anak.” or a “Tekker 14344eva!” in return.

Awww!

Suppressing the Impulsive Buyer

I haven’t used any of my credit cards for 30 days now. I have only spent for one WANT for the whole month. Would you believe? And I am in the middle of the Great Singapore Sale (GSS). Imagine how much restrain that takes. To some it may be fatal.

Last time I checked, I am not dying. I guess I’ll live through it.

Yesterday, one of my banks sent me a message. Apparently I am allowed to borrow Php 91K from them. Hmm… Tempting. If only I were capable of paying them…

The state of being a bum slashes a huge chunk of confidence in one’s habit of purchasing and borrowing money. I am officially a bum. And it silenced the impulsive buyer in me. Which is good.

But the eyeglass frame with leather temples which I saw yesterday was really nice! Argh.

I just hope my luck turns around some time soon. So that my you-can’t-spend limbo will see its end.

Deadlines: If you can’t beat ‘em go to plan B

To spice things up, I am now working on a deadline.

Kind of makes things more challenging, doesn’t it?

If you think about it, deadlines aren’t all that morbid. They put an end to what may otherwise be an infinity of uncertainty. They do have their redeeming value.

See there is always beauty in everything!

(Now I wonder where this optimism is coming from.)

...And Then Some

So at around 12:25 AM, I found myself alone on a train station in a land that barely knows me.

As sad as it felt, I knew I had to accept that the way things are going, I am bound to have more of those 12:25 AM’s alone. It’s nobody’s fault but mine. But it’s sad. Even for me.

Lately I have been thinking. Days like mine when I have no responsibilities and no one who needs me badly, those are the most convenient days to go. You know what I am saying? It is the best time to leave smoothly.

At the train station where no one was looking, it was pretty much tempting to do something stupid. But as a sign spoke to me, I am reminded that life is valuable that’s why I have to act responsibly.

A lot of us forget. The value of life. We so easily abuse ourselves. Take our bodies for granted. Indulge in activities or habits that we know won’t do us good.

That is why it is best to always have something to live for. Family, work, a good cause, a child, a partner, friends. One thing that is strong enough to hold on to us and remind us what living is all about.

If not, we will all be a bunch of lost souls floating around, not giving a damn if a car hits us on our way home.

Early last year when I realized I would be a possible donor for Nichi’s supposed bone marrow transplant, that was when I truly became aware of how important my life is. I needed to take extra care of myself not for my usual selfish reasons but for the life of someone so dear to me whom I might just be able to save.

As it turned out, my life didn’t save Nichi or of anyone else for that matter.

It is ironic because for quite a time, Nichi was the one who saved me. And by being reminded of the almost one year he was deprived of, the one year I had which he didn’t, he continues to save me.

And I get up again.

I am not as alone as I thought after all.

A Lone…

My first attempt to commute alone all the way to where I am presently staying was a success.

There were three conditions that made it special. Actually, from the first sprang the two. One, it was past midnight. I checked the time on my handphone when I got home. It was 12:47 AM. Two, I did not initially board the last train but I alighted at my option 1 station only to find out that no bus awaited for me there. I had to wait for seven minutes for the next train which, as it turned out, was the last train for the day. Although I waited for the train alone—I think no one else was there at the station except me—I am just glad I made it. Third, from the train, I was able to catch bus 17’s last trip. If I didn’t, I would be reduced to riding a cab. A cab ride being expensive was the least of my worries. I was afraid I had no idea how to explain to the cab driver the directions to where I was headed. I thank my luck and a few assistance from Kuya Wah and Ate Win for making my trip a success.

It Fell on a Friday Last Year

I am not a fan of this day. It reminds me of that day last year, a Friday, when my whole family and I had to take in the worst news we ever got.

It was when Nichi’s doctor said that the most recent tests he underwent showed that his leukemia, which was already bad as it was, had gone worse—it had began destroying his central nervous system. What we were trying to run away from for nearly six years had come. Nichi’s days were about to be over.

These things should only happen on movies. Not in real life. Not to us. Not to my brother.

But it did.

But it did.

Last year, July 13, a Friday, we had to take in the worst news we ever got, the worst news we all had to live with, the worst news Nichi would die of.

It was Nichi’s death sentence.

And he was just 13.