Fly High, Shanghai!

"I want to wake up in a city that never sleeps... and find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap..."

- Frank Sinatra, New York New York

Frank Sinatra obviously hasn't been to Shanghai when he sang that New York is the "city that never sleeps".

And literally, this Chinese centre does NOT sleep.

Nope.

Never.

I was not too keen on hopping onto the next plane bound for Shanghai. Nothing really special, except for the Xiao Long Pao at Yuan Yu Gardens and the (mis)adventures we went through just to find that Neverfull Louis Vuitton bag.

The only thing I liked are the bright lights which are delightfully epicurean to a cam whore like me. 

Gasp! A boutique designed with LV Monogrammed Wallpaper and... it's an actual Louis Vuitton Store.
But nope, the Neverfull and the Alma Vernis patent bags are not found here.

I forgot which mall is this... because of the lots and lots of malls that peppered the city.
But I was struck most with the architecture and design.
So Art Noveau.

Eggs.
Have it your way.
I like mine HARD boiled.
These trays and trays of eggs are actually the wall design of some bar in Xin Tian Di.

Ghost town at day.
Xin Tian Di is the nocturnal hot spot in Shanghai.
This is where the "old" meets the "new" as is used to be the French resettlement area in the district.
It actually reminds me of Manila's Intramuros.

The three kings. errr... Emperors :-)

No, I don't read Chinese. I forgot which building this was, but at night you are transported to a magical realm of lights.

The Shanghai River.
Across, you can see the Orient Pearl Tower. It is actually a TV Station and transmitter which was opened to the public for tourism purposes.
Today, the Tower is an icon of Shanghai. Much like Jeepneys are to Manila.
The river is the part I HATED the MOST because right next to it is The Bund.
The Bund can actually give you an idea as to why China holds the record of having the world's largest population.

Shanghai is still up until the wee hours of the morning. This is the street right across our hotel in Nanjing Road.

The "Europe" in East Asia is actually Shanghai.

Even though we can't read it, we at Nestle know it very well.
It's Nestle's Pure Water.

No, it's not a condom statue. It's the official mascot for the  Shanghai World Expo 2010.

We are lost in translation. I had to text my husband in Manila to translate certain Chinese phrases for me.
Shanghai is the Central Business Capital of Mainland China. Most foreigners are settled here for business and professional reasons, the influx of western travelers are higher compared to other regions, but ironically, the locals can't understand English that well.

Proven: Chinese Magnets!

Goofing around like some celebrities in Xin Tian Di

Shanghai has so much to offer, but it is one city that I may not go back to in another lifetime unless extremely necessary. The culture, however, is more westernized than most parts of China. I was so dazed with the throngs and throngs of people marching and flooding the streets like army ants, at any given time of the day.

We braved the jungle of the streets, the nightmare of the markets and the unfamiliar cuisine to experience what it was like to fly high in Shanghai.

And boy, did we.

The Frog Who Had Dirt in Its Ears

"Tough times don't last but tough people do."
-A.C. Green

There was this story about the frog who had dirt in his ears.


The frog, together with several other frogs, joined in a race. The goal was to climb uphill from a pit, and there were hundreds of other frogs competing for this big event.


The start of the race had every amphibian eager to climb out, each stepping on someone else's back. It was a survival of all sorts, like a natural selection process --- the smartest bad ass frog wins.


Little by little, each frog fell out from the race. Each was trapped in the dirt, slid at the bottom or let go too fast and too soon until only a handful was left trying to get out of the pit.


The spectators had their own bets, and tried to deride the other frogs who may emerge as the winner; the one that showed a good potential of climbing up the dirt tracks.


The strongest of the frogs was unwavering, and was determined to boost his way up to the ground. The crowd was cheering him wildly... he IS the favorite, anyways. Too caught up with his strength and vanity, he missed a step and fell back to the pit. The crowd went silent.


There was a stir in the bottom of the pit, and a little frog came forward hopping and sliding his way up to finish the race. When the onlookers peered closely, they saw that it was not the strong frog who missed his step, but a smaller frog with no potential of winning. The crowd laughed at the silly frog and jested him. 


"Your froggy legs won't get you there!"


" You're just a small frog, you can't beat the big one..."


"It's impossible. Your size can't take you there."


" Boo! Boo! Boo!"


"Give up! Now's the time to let go! You can never make it!"


" He'll never make it!"


He'll never make it. With each shout and sarcasm thrown his way, the frog never seemed to mind at all. 
He continued climbing up the dirt and his small stature did not hamper his way, albeit the difficulty of the tracks. 
Soon, what seemed to be an impossible feat became possible, and the small frog slowly climbed up the last few remaining threads of the dirt pit. Much to the crowd's amazement, the small frog leaped happily onto the ground and hopped happily right up as if he didn't figure out that it was really absolutely impossible to win this race for him.


A reporter went up to the frog for an interview.


" What was your motivation? What were you thinking? How did you do it?"


The frog remained silent. As if he heard nothing.


The reporter repeated his questions and shouted them close to the frog's ears just to get his attention. 


Only then that the small frog realized that somebody was indeed talking to him and he shook his head and picked his ears.


He answered, " What was that again?"


The reported retorted sharply, " Everybody else was shouting at you, that you can't do it. It was really impossible. How did you do it?"


The frog was stunned for a moment, then smiled at the reporter.


" I'm sorry. I couldn't hear a single thing. There was dirt in my ear. I didn't hear anything."


And off he hopped happily to claim his prize --- freedom.




We've had our shares of tough times... when the going gets tougher than we expected, and people around us tell us that it's impossible. But when everything else is turning against you, isn't it vindictively victorious to shut them off and carry on with what you think is best and winning in the end?


Someone once told me that I couldn't make it alive on white waters. That I am too limp to paddle, too small for a raft, and too weak to swim hard. 
On January 23rd, I've had my first share of wild water adventure in the treacherous waters of Davao River.
I nearly drowned and died when a current hit me and I was caught underneath the raft when I drifted across the rapids.
But I survived. When the guide shouted at me telling me I may not make it. I did.


And when my team thought we were about to capsize and the guides were expecting us to kiss the walls and fall off the boat --- we survived. We didn't listen to them. Instead, we paddled and huddled together to make the raft stay afloat on the gushing waters.


Someone once told me that running a race is a dream I should forget. A dream I should wake up from. Because I am not cut out for sports. I am too limp to run, too ambitious to stride forward. Too sensitive for pain. Too vain, too weak.
On March 6th, I am running my 6th race in 2 years. My 4th 10-kilometer run. I've endured my shares and woes of pain, fatigue and disappointment. My fair share of giving up in the middle of the race and telling myself I can finish it. My fair share of eating my words and beating personal records.


But, I am not hearing any of this. 


Like any other moments when people tell me to quit because I cannot make it, I will prove them wrong. 


I am a frog with dirt in my ears.


And in time, when I emerge victoriously from my own dirty tracks you all tell me I cannot reach...


I will make you eat dirt.


The same dirt lodged in these Maldita ears.

On Love and Other Drugs

The effects of Viagra won't get you laid. Trust me.

This melodramatic, overly mushy movie made my heart pound faster with annoyance and the ginormous regret that I actually spent around 180 bucks just to watch this flop of a film. I could've spent a little more to have a mani-pedi at Dashing Divas.

My bad... oopps. 

Three points why I absolutely HATED this film:

# 1: Misrepresentation of a Drug Rep's life.

# 2: Cheesier than Chiz Whiz drama.

# 3: Go back to numbers 1 and 2.

Not that I don't like drama. I mean, I'm histrionic and j'adore drama (drama queen here, heller?!) but the lines and the whole story are just painstakingly sappy. Spell that out for you, it's S-A-P-P-Y... Sappy!

Yes, I hate love stories. I've had enough of them when I started reading Jude Deveraux in 4th grade and ended up masturbating on the the thoughts of those elaborate love scenes in her romantic novels. I hate love stories, because they make girls look for Prince Charmings instead of swallowing the bitter truth that the Prince Charmings are actually a.) gay, b.) married or c.) all of the above and all they will end up with is the Frog.

I hate love stories because it makes wimps out of women. We don't need feminine wimps in the 21st century, people. We need strong, Amazonian femme fatales who can survive the jungle of Industrialization and Globalization.

I hate love stories because they mask the underlying problems of life --- poverty, hopelessness, sickness, suffering.

I hate love stories because they are opiates. They temporarily take away the pain of living, and make you crave for more. It's a crazy outlook. Shame on the hopeless romantics.

Now, let me go back to point number one. Point numero uno why I don't like this movie at all --- the total, unjust, unfitting misrepresentation of a drug rep's life. Shame on you, Pfizer for backing up (or even allowing) this movie to be shown. This did not help at all alleviate the current status of your medical representatives. Or, Dear Pfizer... do you acknowledge that your medical reps are promiscuous and absolutely do not have any work ethics at all? You do understand that the misrepresentation of drug reps in this movie would echo a big blow to the image of drug reps worldwide, regardless of the company? Again, SHAME ON YOU. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Pfizer, Pfizer, Pfizer... the marketing use of your name, company, logos and practices on the movie only means one thing: you are already losing hold of the Number One position of pharmaceuticals and without new products in your pipeline, you are getting old and lame. Another shame. Another, another shame. Revamp your style, or else big giants like Merck, Glaxo Smithkline and Sanofi Aventis will get the better of you. Or how about Lilly? Cialis, perhaps? Hah.

Do you know how it feels like to drive all day, carrying big boxes of samples around, plastering a smile on your face and a cheery disposition despite of the indifferent people around you? Do you know how it feels like to wait for what seems like an eternity, only to find out that the person you are waiting for will not accommodate you? Do you know how it feels like when you passionately detail the safety and efficacy of your products, and only to be bluntly told "I don't need that... What trips can you offer me? Can you send me to this international convention? I will double my prescriptions."? Do you know how it feels like to brave the floods, suffer the sweltering heat of the sun, work overtime without pay, and be misjudged, maltreated? Do you know how it feels like to hold on to a calculator for dear life, compute for sales figures and dream of sales targets every night every cut off... just to send your child to school, or put food on the table? Do you know how it feels like to drive for clients at ungodly hours, sacrificing your quality time for your self, that SO or your family? Do you know how it feels like to be a modern slave? Do you know how it feels like to serve beyond service, to put forth your life to make another person's life better? Do you know how it feels like to be a Drug Rep? 

No, you don't!

If this movie has hammered into your bird brain the idea that drug reps stay at home texting random girls (or boys, for that matter) waiting to be fucked, think again. Decent medical reps do not do that. Decent medical reps do not go about stealing samples of competitors and dumping them on the backyard garbage. Decent medical reps serve with honor and earn a decent living for themselves, their families and for their companies.

You may not know it, you may not appreciate it, but your doctors would not know what the best drug is for you and your condition if not for the decent medical representative visiting him/her religiously. Of course, there is PIMS, PUMS and the internet. But nothing will ever come close to the exact, blow by blow account of an explanation detailing every single thing you need to know about a drug by a medical rep. 

Medical representatives are there to make life easier for doctors and patients. They are simply not there to throw away boxes of samples and shower sponsorships for trips, money and fame. They are there to serve a purpose, a higher calling... of extending service to the community in spite of all the odds they face.

So the next time you run into a drug rep at the doctors' clinics... think twice. It should not be a naked Jake Gyllenhaal and Anne Hathaway fucking each other with Viagra on the background that should come to your mind, but a picture of a self-sacrificing man or woman wanting to make your life better with whatever drugs they have on hand.

And please, check the label. Better not be "Pfizer made it".

Dancing with Neptune

For whatever we lose (like a You or a Me)
It's always ourselves we find in the sea.
- E.E. Cummings

An idyllic time at Bohol Beach Club

I danced with Neptune when I was a toddler and barely remembered anything. The remnants of that first dance were captured in a lomo photograph with me flashing a big white smile wearing a bright red strawberry polka dotted bikini while Neptune waved in the background.

I never stopped dancing with him after that.

Cerulean

I followed the Sun every time to seek my rendezvous with Neptune. I embrace him like a lost lover and be intimate in his charms while he caresses my soft skin and whispers songs of love, dreams and ambitions in my ears. The lure of his Cerulean charms captivated me in ways I never imagined.

I was in love.

Afternoon delight

Neptune knows everything about me. My hopes. My dreams. My aspirations. My ambitions. My love. My faith. My heartaches, disappointments and frustrations. His depths know the depths of my soul, the wide expanse of his arms reach to soothe my fears.

I am not alone.

Lounging in reflection

But alas, the rendezvous is always just as short as the Sun in his throne. Even when I refuse to leave, I have to leave him. True love is indeed all about letting go.
My heart will stay with him even though I bid another farewell. In the memories of my lifetime, I will always stay beside him. Neptune.
Time is short, sweet and idyllic. And the distance each laps covers bring me closer to home, where I seek refuge in the advent of that first dance.

I found not a lover in the ocean. I found myself.

Where do you set your sights on?

“Our memories of the ocean will linger on, long after our footprints in the sand are gone.”

--Anonymous 

My happiness :-)

When Time Flies

When time flies, it is that moment where you want it to be captured and suspended in its sister Space and wait until it can no longer dictate your life.
Ahhh.The luxury of time. How many of us just want to have a second of it? For every minute that counts would seem like eternity weaving in and out of little clocks.
Oblivious to the world around me, I want it. I want time. Time for my family. Time for myself. For me, me, me and ME. And just because I'm a selfish little sloth, I want more and more of it.
Walking down the powdery white sand, my idle mind wandering off to the blue skies and immersing in the azure waters, I found myself.
My maldita self. And I just want more.
This, holding a Taoist book and a pinacolada on one hand.

Capturing Bohol Beach Club at noon

Child's Play

I've always been in love with make up. Cosmetics. Beauty. 

This ongoing love affair started when I was 5 years old and toyed with my Mom's makeup kit and finally got to have my first ever lipstick collection at the age of 10. I saved up my allowance and never bother to eat just so I could afford all the pinks, reds, browns and corals of every lipstick brand there is. 

On the simple reason that my mantra is to make the world a better place to live in. Plans to rule the world by simply making people around me beautiful. Life is unfair, we know that. Not everybody is given the opportunity to be born gorgeous naturally. And as far as I can see, there are a lot of uglies out there who roam the streets and make my head ache and add to the eyesore in the community. Thus, the charitable and humane cause of Malditang Demonyita was born: Wave my magic wand and weave my magic unto them. Poof! It became Koko Krunch!

I have always been an artist. I love colors. I love bright, poppy ideas. And being a Histrionic, I thrive on drama and have a flair for getting attention. And not only that --- the Universe has been happy to bestow upon me the talent for drawing and painting so that makes it easy for me to draw eyebrows and do a perfect cat's eye using tricky gel eye liners. See?

So I was thrilled when my sis-in-law's church mate asked if I could do her make up for her wedding. I was extremely ecstatic about it. I offered a free makeup trial so I could help her decide if she wanted to get me. After the trial, she was so happy about her look and decided on the spot to book me.
Voila! A make up artist is born!
I want to make this world a beautiful place. Oh, and world peace.

Blend, blend, blend using Color Corrector by Coastal Scents and Suesh stipling brush

Beeyootipul!

Pygmalion-a and Galatea

The "before" look, only with makeup primer sans foundation and concealer

The "after" look... finished product.

Fairy Godmother can envy me, that old hag!

Recollecting.

 Old post from my old blog.

I should be studying for the midterms... but heck I really can't just seem to concentrate. Things have been milling in my head for days, like cornflakes and rice crispies in one bowl, waiting for good ol' milk to dissolve them and remove the crunch.
We have actually started CHD2 duties in Malinao. Blessing in disguise, coz that was were I first had my community duty for CHD1. But the community is not a blessing at all. It's like Trash Country in the middle of nowhere. Ironically, it is situated near the Pasig City Hall but seems like everybody in the oval office there is hands off when it comes to that pitiful settlement.
Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce to you... Vicper.
My First Love. Oh, how I love to burn it down until nothing is left but ashes to feed the hogs!
I love it so much that when it's community immersion time, my gut is turned inside out just by the thought of mingling with these people whose top morbidity cause is Acute Upper Respiratory Tract Infection. Why? It's the air they breathe! Full of MO, my dear! It's like wading into dogshit as dogs literally shit all over the place. It is where people hang out in makeshift tents to do videoke on cheap machines and pay on a per game basis for billiards. Bingo time is after lunch where moms and lolas and even lolos and ates and kuyas and bunsos would waste their lives on a meaningless game, contented of spending and winning the last cent of yesternight's earnings.
I had the chance to go through the Health Center's reports and make the graphical analysis for the our presentation to the community. Pa-consuelo de bobo. I just laughed my head off. Where in the world can you find these cases?
Morbidity Cause: Otitis Media.
FYI: In simple terms, luga. Otitis Media, if not treated, will lead to severe ear infection leading to intracranial expansion and meningitis. How to prevent it? Simply by cleaning the ears. Only an idiot wouldn't do that. And apparently, idiots are rampant on that godforsaken place. Cotton buds, please!
Morbidity Cause: Furunculosis.
My groupmates and I were wondering what Furunculosis is. I texted several doctor friends. Here were the replies:
Dr Dennis Esquivel (IM-Diabetologist who's now teaching in his homeland): Skin infection caused by Staphylococcus Aureus. --- hmm... microbio na microbio andating mo doc ah!
Dr Dominic Guevara (another doctor friend whose specialty is Otitis Media, harhar!): It's a skin infection, usually an inflammation of the hair follicles leading to abscess formation -- aba doc, specialist ka nga. pang Patho na Patho!
Dr Roy Garrido (Cardio-interventionist from Cardinal Santos): Infection of the skin, you can treat it with antibiotics. -- ah, eto naman Pharma ang dating.
But this one... this one is the winner. Ditto, Doc Peanuts.
Angel: (thru text) Doc, hi, alam m b ung skt n furunculosis? tnx :)
Dr Peanuts: Pigsa. Bakit, meron ka? :p
I wanna do several cartwheels!!
Going back, I nearly fell off the chair when I continued reading and analyzing the reports from the Health Center. Mortality Cause was even sensational. My favorites:
Mortality cause: Metabolic Acidosis.
Well, tracing this, one of the causes of Metabolic Acidosis is intoxication of isopropyl alcohol in a Normal anion gap. In an Increased anion gap, one of the causes of Metabolic Acidosis is Lactic acidosis --- a form of acidosis wherein cells use the glucose in the body in the absence of adequate O2. So, here we can argue based on these premises that whoever died from Metabolic Acidosis from that area ingested Isopropyl Alcohol (dude, he should've been in Alcoholics Anonymous!) or died because of hunger and suffocation in that crowded lot.
Mortality cause: Asphyxia r/t Hanging.
In simple terms, SUICIDE. Nagbiti, nagpakamatay. I love NANDA!
Mortality cause: Acute Myocardial Infarction.
Somewhere during the course of their Bingo habit, a resident might have been so elated that he won the pot money of 250 pesos causing his existing atherothromboses to be dislodged from a major blood vessel (remember, elation and too much joy can cause the heart to pump more blood...) causing an infarct. Bye bye to your pot money. I just hoped his Bingo comrades found a way to donate for his wake... might have used the game for fundraising instead! Hehe.
 Just today, we ended up collecting and paying for their trash. Nursing students as garbage collectors-cum-junk shoppers. Sweet. With all the sweat and grime and MO sticking on us, I could've died. I went home not feeling so well. Not well because I hate that place. Full of rowdy, broken people and teeming with dirt! Not well because it only deepens my realization of how wide is really the disparity between the haves and the have-nots.
Just a bingo chip's throw away is the Pasig City Hall and yet the government cannot elucidate a solid action plan on how to solve this eye sore in its jurisdiction. I heard through the grapevine though that the local city officials are really on a "no comment" basis whenever "Vicper" shoots up. Strings of histories tied to the mayor's belt, now Vicper is an abandoned and goddammned place.
Assessing the people, they are kind and receptive, although I personally do not see any real initiative on their part to alleviate their condition. Ambitions drive dreams. Without Ambition, you are nowhere and it seems that this is the case in point here. The people there are lax, satisfied and purely depending on outside help. They have been under this psyche for years, that because they are inherrently indigent, there will always be help coming in from other people. In the process, they never get the chance to redeem themselves from the vicious cycle.
These poor people, they do not have the right to get sick or go hungry. The government is allocating them free medicines, hiring public health practitioners and public health nurses who are on call to always assist them. The only problem is that their mindsets are closed to the fact and accepted the truth that this is where they do belong.
During the course of our interviews and surveys, I met fellow Bicolanos who have settled in Vicper. I asked them why they chose to stay here in Manila and live this impoverished life. All answered for the same familiar reason they know: Here in the Metro, they have money. They thought life was better here than back there in the province where they can easily survive for the day's meals on free veggies handpicked along the road. Here, they go hungry and labor under the heat of the sun, scrimping what little they got to buy food. Here, their children roam on dogshit-infected slums without underwear, growing up as part of the country's urban poor and illiterate.
To wallowing in mud to exposing myself under the heat of the Vicper sun, I had my lost dreams. Dreams of looking forward to a better country without people like them --- impoverished and dirty.
I dreamed once of being a Nurse. All because of Dollar Bank. I hope tomorrow, when I go back to that market shackles, this is the dream I wouldn't lose next.