22 May

I have a problem with letting go. As of the time of this writing, it’s 12:55pm and I’m in Schiphol airport. 

Just earlier we said our last goodbyes. Boris, Sven, Gerwald, Heleen, and her boyfriend accompanied us to the check-in area and waited with us while Dav checked in his baggage. Last-minute jokes were shared, the final few conversations were made. Finally, when it was time to go…we just did. It would have been harder if we stalled. I looked back though, one last time, and saw not their faces, but their silhouettes, against the blinding white light streaming from behind them. Something wonderful was slipping away; we were saying goodbye, and we weren’t just saying goodbye to a beautiful country — we were saying goodbye to friends, to people who helped us get our stories and helped us have the time of our lives. This isn’t something ordinary tourists had to contend with. We were leaving behind wonderful people and a memory.

In all honesty, I didn’t want to go yet. I missed people and the comforts of home, of course, but our adventures in Europe…for a girl who is easily excitable by the prospect of travel and something new happening, this was a dream come true. Something happened every single day, and it was the kind of life I had always wanted to have. We had experienced so much that it was difficult picking out just one story to tell the folks back home.

We had experienced so much that I think we have accelerated the development process for our own maturity. We’ve learned to be independent, to fend for ourselves in a strange and foreign environment. We’ve learned to immerse into another culture. And, as the song “Buses and Trains” go, this is something I’d want to do again, over and over.

This one’s a summer to remember, and I’d like to thank everyone who made this happen. To Ma’am Chay — taking your classes was a risk that completely changed my college life. Life-changing things always seem to happen under your watch, and I’m extremely grateful for your mentorship, and for giving me a chance to have a shot in this program.

Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi, our parents for two weeks — we are all so grateful for the patience and care you have given to us.

Dr. Valdez, thank you for making this partnership happen, and for being our diplomat of sorts. And for the wonderful, wonderful home department — the Com Dept, Ms. Clarissa, Ms. Jona, Ms. Irene, Sir Mark — thank you for your welcoming smiles and all the help you gave us in fixing the minute details of our trip.

To our Dutch friends, especially my buddy Jolijn. You are amazing! I wouldn’t have had as much fun if it weren’t for you and your help. Have fun in Lourdes, buddy, and take care.

Finally, to my own Filipino travel buddies Janna, Jem, Pia, Jio, and Dav. “I have found out there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them,” says Mark Twain, and I completely agree. I’ll miss us, you guys. Let’s make this last.

To Tibet or Texas in ten years!

21 May

PARIS, France — as of the time of this writing, I am currently in the Paris Nord train station, on the Thalys train bound for Rotterdam Central. The three days in Paris went by in a whirlwind. I would have wanted to stay longer, would have wanted to venture outside of the city — Nice, Versailles, Strasbourg, and many other places — but there were so many other things to keep me occupied in Paris. The three days were definitely not enough, but I’ll be sure to come back here someday.

After our wonderful night out on the Eiffel Tower, I inadvertently left off my alarm and woke up at 11am, just one hour before check-out time, and two hours later than my intended wake-up time. It’s the last day in Paris, and I spent half the day sleeping — great. By the time I got up, I was the last person still in bed, Pia was already gone (probably exploring Montmartre or Musee d’Orsay), and Sir Sev was telling us to bring our luggage downstairs. By noon, Sir Sev, Ma’am Gigi, Ma’am Violet, Janna, and Jem went on their way to see Notre Dame and Moulin Rouge, while I stayed behind to go with Jio to KFC. Now that I’ve finished writing that sentence, it sounds a little absurd, but yes, I did skip a trip to a church and a Paris tourist point just to try out French KFC.

Jio and I took the train to Menilmontant and immediately spotted that wonderful, wonderful sign. We both had silly smiles on our faces (again). I don’t think our addiction and love for KFC knows any bounds; for this program, we ate KFC on the way to Subic, in Amsterdam, in Arnhem, and in Paris. We would’ve sought out KFC branches in all the cities we went to if we could.

After our lunch we went to Trocadero to take our daytime Eiffel Tower photos. Iya had said that this was the place to take good photos of the tower.

I immediately thought the place was like Amsterdam’s Dam Square; some pigeons here and there, lots of people, street musicians, and hawkers; statues all around, and a wonderful view of the city. Paris feels like a dream; there was street music playing when we got there, so it felt like I had my own personal soundtrack. Jio and I took turns for pictures and then went our separate ways. I went to Charles de Gaulle-Etoile to see the Arc de Triomphe. It was my first time riding the metro and going somewhere in Paris on my own, and this is partly why I was hesitant to join the rest to Notre Dame — traveling alone is something I’ve always wanted to try, and there I was, daring to try.

It was pretty easy. As in the Netherlands, once you get the gist of their transport system, it wasn’t difficult to figure the rest out. It helped that there were signs in every corner, so I could always check where I was and where I needed to go. 

I got to Champs Elysees and found the underground walkway to the arc. When I finally got there, the sight just took my breath away. Towering and majestic, just the way Napoleon intended it to be. There were intricate carvings lining the arc and dioramas on the pillars.

I had wanted to climb up to the very top and get a 360 degree view of the city, but the line was too long, and I had only an hour to spare before I had to go leave for our aparthotel again, and so I just took a lot of photos. I kind of regret not being able to do what I wanted, but I had to adjust, given the circumstances. At least I was where I wanted to be, alone, in a foreign city, going at my own pace and taking my time.

Since I didn’t have the time to go anywhere else — the metro station was nearby, and I needed to take that to get back home — I just explored the length of Champs Elysees again. I bought polo shirts for my dad and a bag for my sister. And just so I could commit it forever to history (I believe in “if you didn’t write it down, it never happened”), I sat down on a nearby bench and scribbled a note on my Moleskine. I stayed there for ten minutes, just watching people. I wish I had the time to do that. I felt a little bad that because I only had two weeks in Europe, I had to make the most of it by going to place after place and shopping for people. I should’ve allotted a day of strictly no shopping, strictly no set itinerary, just me wandering around, taking photos, watching people, going wherever my feet decide to take me for the day.

There were beggars in Paris too.

I didn’t have any problems taking the train back to Belleville, then transferring lines to Pyrenees. I did have trouble finding the right exit though; when I emerged, I saw a McDonald’s nearby, and I knew I had never seen one before whenever we went home. Good thing Jio told me about it earlier in the day, so I texted him that I was slightly lost and might be a little late. I walked around some more and thankfully saw the right landmarks, and followed them straight to home. On the way, I got myself an ice cream bar from a supermarket and played my special French soundtrack while walking. Talk about absolutely feeling the French vibe; Carla Bruni and Juliette Greco were singing in my ear while I walked the streets of Paris.

When I got to the hotel, Jio and Sir Sev were in the lobby, while the rest were upstairs in Ma’am Violet’s room. I stopped by for a bit in the supermarket to buy the jam that my sister wanted and a bottle of water (side note: water here is so expensive, it should be a crime. Yesterday, I got a bottle of water at McDo for an inhumanely insane price of 2.45 euros.)

We split up to go to the train station again. I was with Jio, Ma’am Gigi and Sir Sev in a cab with the luggage, while the rest of the girls took the train. We encountered a street party on the way, so we had to go another route and rack up more euros in cab fare. By the time we got to the Paris Nord station, our bill was nearly 20 euros. Another six euros went for the baggage.

The girls arrived around 30 minutes later, and we all moved near platform 8. Someone raised the idea of eating gelato, so we went around in search for it, but only found the expensive Haagen Dazs. After buying bread from a bakeshop called Paul, Jio and I eventually decided to just go for the ice cream. We were in Europe, after all, and we won’t be back for a long time. Might as well eat what we wanted to eat. Hello Ma and Pa and dear sister when you read this — I got to try Haagen Dazs for the first time in France.

So it’s all over. We’re probably crossing over Belgium now, if not the outskirts of France. The sun is setting. Tonight we sleep in The Hague, and tomorrow morning we leave for Schiphol. The adventure is over. I’ve no doubt I’d get into an after-Europe rut after this; after all, this summer is hard to top. I’m hoping though that this taste for travel and adventure will stay with me for the rest of my life, inspiring me to go places and get out of my comfort zone, and see and experience the world with my own senses.

Till next time, Paris. I fell in love under your wonderfully blue skies.

20 May, 9.03pm

PARIS, France — this dateline is also legitimate (as of the time of this writing).

We were so prepared for this day. A couple of days before, Jio had a deal with the girls to dress nicely for our trip to the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. He was going to wear the suit he had brought, while the girls will be wearing skirts and dresses. So when we went to the teachers’ room this morning, Ma’am Violet commented that we were dressed for Paris, the fashion capital of the world.

We went to the Louvre first. I honestly do not know how I could describe what it looked like without photos — the scale and majesty of the place is simply beyond words. Intricate carvings on the pillars, grand arches, fountains — I could imagine that kings and queens rode their carriages down the cobblestone streets and swept across the courtyard in their wonderful period clothing.

The line to the museum was long, but it moved pretty quickly. We got to the ground floor where Ma’am Violet and Ma’am Gigi took care of our tickets. We decided to have some food in the museum cafe first, since we only had bread and some Spam for breakfast. As expected, museum food was extremely expensive, so we just had a little snack to keep us energized for around two hours.

We split up, and I decided to go down the Devon wing first. More than the artifacts on display, what I really liked about the museum was the architecture and design of the buildings that house these artifacts. Wherever there were Greek sculptures, the architecture looked Grecian; the same with French, with their flowy red curtains and carpets. My favorite part was the Napoleon Apartments. I could only imagine how great it must be like to have lived like royalty in their era; huge chandeliers, deep, vivid red for the couches and the curtains, and ornate furniture all around. I could imagine one room fit for a princess, and another for a king. I spent a lot of time in that wing of the museum, simply because I absolutely adore anything from those eras and my imagination was already zooming into overdrive.

I did see the Mona Lisa, some other famous paintings, and famous sculptures. There were lots more that I didn’t get to see though, but that’s fine; after two hours, I was dead tired. My feet were starting to ache, and there was still the Eiffel Tower to see and climb.

We got a little lost finding our way to the Eiffel, but I finally saw it, from the bus on our way to the tower. When I saw that colossal monument that eventually came to represent France, it finally sank in that I was in Paris, I was in Europe, I was here to see the Eiffel Tower.

We got up close, but the line was long, and only Jio and I wanted to climb it. So we decided to go to Champs Elysees and eat a very late lunch there, do some shopping, and go back to the hotel. Jio and I were planning to go back to the tower at around 10pm, just because by that time it was already night and from the top of the tower we would be able to see the City of Lights in its full glory. The tower would be lit up, and, if we got there in time, would even sparkle for five minutes.

We bought microwaveable food in the supermarket and ate dinner in the hotel. At around 9.30 the girls went to our new room — a six person room with two baths — to leave our bags. I had finally convinced them to go with Jio and me, even if they weren’t planning to go up the tower. When we got to the ground floor of our hotel, Jio was already there in his coat and tie. We all looked like we were going to a prom.

Our only problem and concern then was that it was late, and the last elevator ride up the tower was at 11.30pm. The trains to and from our hotel would also stop operations at 12.30. Worst case scenario was that we just take our night time pictures and then take a cab going back to the hotel.

It was three change of trains before we got to our last stop. The tower looks even better at night.

In the morning, it was just a huge piece of metal beautifully designed and built. In the night though, it glows. And it was very, very beautiful.

When Jio and I saw that the ticket booth was still open, no hesitations — we both decided to go up, no matter what.  The three girls were going to take photos near the foot of the tower, and could go ahead back to the hotel if they wanted to. So while Jio briefed them on what trains to take and where to get off, I got two tickets for (what I thought was) the last ride up the Eiffel Tower.

I was extra giddy while we were in the elevator. We could only go up to the second floor unfortunately, but it was good enough for me. By the time we got to our landing…wow. City lights! Paris! The Arc de Triomphe, all aglow! It was hard not to make like a kid and just run around. The wind was blowing, and the cold was reminiscent of the cold back in Holland, but no matter. We were several feet above the ground, on the Eiffel Tower, lit up at night, and we could see the city lights. I didn’t take pictures immediately; I just stared out into the view, letting it all sink in. I was finally there.

After some minutes of letting-stuff-sink-in, Jio and I got to work on our little photoshoot. He brought his coat and two jackets — one Ateneo blue and another La Salle green. And that was just what we did: take photos, stare out into space, get lost in thought.

After a while though, guess who we saw: the three girls! They had made a last-minute decision to go up the tower, so finally we could do a group photo; otherwise, our outfits would’ve been worn in vain. 

At 12.05am the tower started to sparkle! We had unknowingly come at just the right time to catch the last sparkling show of the day. I wonder how it looked like from below, but from the tower, it was absolutely beautiful.

By the time we got the last elevators down, we were about ready to catch a cab. Fortunately we asked some policemen what time the metro closes, and they said 2am. What a relief. We got to catch the trains and got back to our hotel at around 1.30am.

What an experience. Paris on a Friday night, and going home at one in the morning. If I had my way (and if we didn’t have such a nice hotel to go back home to), I would’ve stayed out all night, going to the Arc and Avenue Champs Elysees and seeing the City of Lights at its prettiest: sparkling, and all aglow.

Tomorrow we leave for the Netherlands again. I don’t think I’ll have the time to go to all the places I wanted to visit in Paris, but I’m happy that I’m here. After all, not every nineteen-year-old has the chance to go to France as a side vacation to a school trip. I feel so privileged to be here, and I am absolutely loving every second of this trip.

This is my favorite Eiffel Tower photo. We all just look so happy, and looking at this makes me smile, too. Photo by our date for the night (heh), Jio Igual.

19 May

Boris had said that waking up at 6.30am to catch the train to Paris would require a military operation, but what do you know — we were on time, and had lots of minutes to spare. We had so much time, Jem even got to flirt with the cashier guy working at the station kiosk.

When our Thalys train started moving, we had a countdown and raised our hands in the air. Finally! We’re on our way to Paris! It was a much-needed vacation for us all after pursuing our stories in the Netherlands for the past two weeks.

While everyone else slept, I was typing on my laptop, writing two blog entries and doing my GUIDON June News story list. Why? Because it sounded cool to be working while on the train to Paris, that’s why.

On the Thalys train bound for Paris! On my table: lens cap, Moleskine, pen, train ticket. On my right: a probably-sleeping Jio Igual.

Ten minutes to arrival time, I started putting on my Paris playlist. It didn’t have as much feel-good effect as I had hoped; the view outside was far from my romanticized, ideal image of the city. There was graffiti on the tracks and the houses did not look too appealing. Contrast this with Amsterdam, where the houses were pretty and the country was clean. It was a disappointing welcome into Paris, honestly. I had expected more. I had expected it to be cleaner and better, as it was a very popular tourist destination. But the terminal was not tourist-friendly, some stairwells smelled of urine, and not everything was in English. It was then that I wished I was minoring in French instead of Japanese, just so I could lessen the feeling of lostness I felt then.

Jio and I went around to look for the tourist information office, since we all needed a map and a place to stay in. For the first time in my life, I was in a foreign city with no itinerary, and most especially no place to stay. I am loving the spontaneity of everything.

Eventually Ma’am Gigi, Ma’am Violet, and Jio came back with someone else: Iya! She had been in Paris for five months now for her JTA in Sciences Po. It was good seeing her again; last I saw her was during our IJ classes with Ma’am Chay, I think. She looks a little more French now.

Our hotel was in the Jordain area, so we girls headed for our hotel by riding the metro. Now that I’ve seen the transport system in the Netherlands, I had an actual, first-world point of comparison, and seeing the Parisian metro was quite disappointing: the system was below ground, which made the entire place dark and gloomy; the trains looked old, and on some of them you had to manually open the doors. Even the LRT line in Katipunan was better than these.

On the upside though, there were signs everywhere, so getting lost was not a problem. But the trains were crowded and the people did not look too friendly. For the first time ever in Europe I felt a little queasy being around strangers.

We found after a couple of minutes that we got on the wrong line, so we had to switch lines. Eventually we got to the right address of our new hotel. After our Hans Brinker experience, we wanted something better for our vacation. To our relief and surprise, the rooms were wonderful! We had a huge bed, a living room area and a kitchen — good thing Jem and I brought our Spam and mie goreng! It would save us a couple of euros for breakfast and dinner.

After settling in, we left for Sacre Couer and the Montmarte area. For a while it reminded me of Manila — chaotic and crowded. There’s something fascinating and thrilling with being thrust into a new place and being lost in the newness of everything; I felt slightly disoriented, at first, but there’s the beauty of travel. There’s always something new to see and to discover and to feel.

It was a pity we could not take photos inside the Sacre Couer church; it was absolutely beautiful. There’s something about light and churches that get to me — I stayed a long, long time under the yellow light of a stained glass window, taking the experience all in. 

Nuns started singing, heightening the feel of the divine even more. Funny how this church made me rethink (briefly, anyway) my very short-lived high school desire to be a nun. If this was where I was destined to stay, then maybe I might have even seriously considered it, heh.

We hadn’t intended it, but we ended up shopping in the Montmartre area for souvenirs. Jem, Pia, and I shared a Nutella crepe (it was three euros! That’s a hundred and eighty bucks for pastry goodness). Jem and I also got music boxes that play “La Vie en Rose,” for when our minds wander back to the familiar skies of Europe and then we go emo while we relive the moments.

Next destination: the most famous and beautiful and second most-expensive avenue in the world — Avenue de Champs Elysees!

A Cartier store in Champs Elysees. Stores like these were the norm, not the exception.

As we went up from the Charles de Gaulle metro stop, we immediately saw the Arc de Triomphe. If we weren’t in awe then, we were now; what we used to see only in Google Images was now there, in reality. Napoleon Bonaparte must be proud — he moved this girl to awe, all right.

We were given time to go around and buy things, so the girls and I went first to H&M. Not much choice for clothes, but I was able to get myself a floral dress and a scarf. The other girls got shoes and bags. It seems silly now, but we of course had to take photos of us walking down the avenue, H&M bags proudly displaying “Champs Elysees” in tow. (We had adopted a “no judging” policy when it came to posing for photos). The sun was setting by then. Wish we stayed to see the Arc and the avenue light up at night. Paris seemed to be the kind of city that would look absolutely magnificent at night, but that experience was to wait another day.

Side note: the blueness of the sky here is amazing. I have never seen that shade of blue ever — it is utterly captivating. I literally stopped in the middle of the road just to stare up at it.

Tomorrow we go cultural and go touristy. We’re really making a vacation out of this.

18 May

The girls and I were supposed to be on the 8.30am train to Amsterdam, but after getting home quite late the other day, we ended up taking the 10am one instead. We arrived in Amsterdam at around 11am and went straight to the markets of Waterlooplein. No one said anything about splitting up, but we just wandered naturally away from each other and set off on our own different shopping routes.

There were so many things I wanted to buy, mostly useless stuff with lots of unique, sentimental value. I really fancied a compass I saw, priced at 20 euros, but fortunately the rational side of me reasoned that I had no use for it. I ended up buying a postcard, several medallions, a set of stamps, and a picture book of the Notre Dame in Paris. All of them pretty useless if you think about it, but it will always remind me of that cloudy, gray day in Waterlooplein, surrounded by shoppers and bric-a-brac and serenaded by a lone female playing songs on her guitar.

We had spent so much time there that we barely had enough time to go to Dam Square and find the I Amsterdam shirts we wanted to buy. We also had to go back to the I Amsterdam sign for Janna to take her photos and for us to get Ma’am Gigi the floral bag she liked from the Van Gogh museum shop. Jem though needed to go back to StayOkay since she forgot some of her Lokaalmondiaal stuff. So we split up; I was with Janna, while Pia and Jem went ahead to Amsterdam Centraal. 

On the way to the station, we were fortunate to stumble upon souvenir shops selling the shirts I was looking for. We made it to our train with around six minutes left, and when we texted Jem and Pia, we found out that we were actually early; they had decided to stop by and eat pizza at the station (aside: I was craving for that pizza! I should’ve stayed too, haha).

We got to the Lokaalmondiaal office and waited for Jem and Pia. We then started our evaluation of the program after a short video by Alexa that recapped two weeks’ worth of events. It was a trip down memory lane for us; did all those really happen in just a span of two weeks? It seemed and felt like we did so much in that amount of time.

The evaluations were done by giving each person three slips of paper, on which we wrote the strengths, weaknesses, and recommendations for the program. Our issues with the transportation, communication, finances, and Hans Brinker were raised; hopefully they’ll be addressed in future projects. 

The evaluations were wrapped up with a wonderful dinner in San Miguel Cafe around Arnhem. I have never felt so full in Arnhem than during that dinner; we had meatballs, cheese-filled bread, chicken, fries, and a host of other stuff. It was a good night in a great environment; the restaurant was sort of underground, and the warm lighting set the mood for the rest of the evening. We were feeling emotional, as this was the last time we’d see our buddies.

Just like they did back in November in Tagaytay, we had also prepared a little improvised song for the entire group, to the tune of “Buses and Trains”: 

So I went under a bus (in Utrecht)

Got hit by a train (to Rotterdam)

Kept falling in love (with Amsterdam)

which is kind of the same…

We gave our farewell gifts to our buddies afterwards. Jolijn was going to Lourdes in France the next day for her internship, so I would not be seeing her for the last time in Schiphol. She gave a wonderful speech about leaving friends and goodbyes being the birth of memories. I have a lot of those beautiful memories to pack tonight.

Goodbyes are always so difficult. We would’ve wanted one last hurrah, but we had an early train to catch for Paris the next day, and so we had to bid goodbye to the six Dutch students who made such a difference in our lives.

17 May

I had no work scheduled for the day; while the rest were still catching up with their interviewees, I had finished them all a week before. So for our first day back in Arnhem, I was fully intending to use the day to blog, maybe start on my stories, and pack for our three-day trip to Paris. Instead, I found myself walking around Arnhem central with Jio, whiling away four hours before we could check in to our rooms.

We caught the 8am train back to Arnhem. Dav stayed in Utrecht, Janna and Pia got off in Ede, Jem was somewhere else, and so only Jio and I were left to go back to StayOkay. When we got there at around 9.30am, we were told that our rooms would be available at 2pm. 

With nothing much left to do, we went back to the city center. Jio had told me that he had glimpsed a KFC branch somewhere nearby when he was with Sir Sev and Pia in an Irish pub just last week. So we set off to find that elusive KFC branch. If it is not obvious yet, Jio and I swear by the awesomest colonel that ever lived and his equally awesome chicken (and gravy). We walked and walked and walked some more — maybe 30 minutes had passed, I wasn’t really sure — until someone told us that the prize of our conquest was actually in the opposite direction. So we promptly turned around and headed back.

We found it, finally, but again the fates were not with us — the branch opened at 11am. Fortunately, there was a shopping mall located right beside it, so we decided to look around to kill time. 

I didn’t really intend to shop. For one, I was saving up for the next day’s shopping in H&M in Amsterdam. I also wasn’t the type to feel comfortable shopping with someone else. I’d always be with my sister, mostly because she’d be the one tut-tutting at me whenever I’d tentatively pick up something that to her looks hideous (and then of course I’d promptly drop it and pretend it never existed). But since my sister was thousands of kilometers away, I was left to fend for my own, and hopefully choose clothes that she’d approve of. Jio was probably as clueless as I was, so I didn’t try getting stuff for myself or for my sister. (I’d later retract this — it was him who helped me get my sister’s cardigan when we were in H&M in Champs Elysees). Anyway, he found two pairs of pants and since we were killing time, I made him try them on. Unfortunately that only spent around ten minutes of the 280++ more we were trying to kill.

So we went around some more. We were looking for clothes for his sister and a pair of really hard-to-find shoes for his friend. By the time we unsuccessfully returned from the search, KFC was finally open and we were the first two at the register.

We probably looked like two giddy tourists about to have their first taste of KFC after being separated from it for a long, long time. Yes, we had silly little smiles on our faces — and we took pictures using Jio’s iPad just before we dug in.

How to describe the epicness that followed? If it just had gravy, it would’ve been the most heavenly thing on Earth EVER.

We both ordered six pieces of chicken fillet. They weren’t your ordinary chicken fillets; they were so much more than that. (Aside: it’s 11.33pm as I type this, and already I’m craving.) I think Jio describes it better than I can:

The outside was crispy enough but also very thin so that it didn’t overpower the very soft and tender chicken meat inside. Every bite was amazing, and had I not been full I would’ve ordered another one.

What he said — every single word.

So after that wonderful lunch, we now had about two hours to kill before going back to the hostel. While we were going around looking for his friend’s shoes, I mentally noted the places I’d come back to once I double-checked every pasalubong item with my meticulous sister.

It felt like we walked around the entire place, honestly. We talked about a lot of different topics for what felt like a long time, but a check with our watches told us that only ten minutes had actually gone by. We talked about The GUIDON and Paris and Moleskine notebooks and what to do after college and life plans and more KFC but still, time was going really, really slowly. What sort of changed the pace for me was realizing we watched the town come alive; we had been there so early in the morning, when the shopowners were still setting up, and now the place was bustling with shoppers and tourists. The weather was also rather nice; it was still cold, but not dreadfully so, and the sun was up, so it was a good day to walk around lazily and chat. What I really liked, though, was the presence of a street musician playing “Sous le ciel de Paris” near an H&M branch. I recognized the song immediately, even if it was being played instrumental; it happened to be one of the songs I was planning to put on loop as my Paris soundtrack. I really like European street musicians; I kind of feel that I’m going around the cobblestone streets with my own personal life soundtrack music.

Finally, at half past one we made our way back to the hostel. I didn’t have my bags yet, so I just spent the afternoon writing in my notebook while seated facing the window (writer stereotypes, I know) and sending my GUIDON storylist via my phone, since my laptop was dead. I never got to take a nap like Jio did; writing took most of my time.

I never got to go around Arnhem on my own, sit on one of those benches lying by the sidewalks, and just watch the world go by. I wish I did. Now that I think about it, I really wish I did.

Around a quarter to six we left for Ede to meet up with Janna and Ans, and from there we went to Gerwald’s place in Utrecht. Gerwald’s place is really cool. I really liked their clock, hidden among books; their furniture and other items were really one of a kind! We met his wife Annemieke, and we (well, the girls mostly) looked through their wedding album. Their photos were so sweet and cute! I found it quirky that Gerwald was wearing Chucks to his own wedding. I’m guessing Janna, Jem, Pia and I were already taking notes for our own wedding someday, haha!

We had wine and some treats — stroopwafels, chips and cream puffs, to name a few. It was another chill night of talking. Eventually though, we began to get worried because StayOkay had a curfew at midnight that day, so we had to get back early. Fortunately, Gerwald was able to arrange something for us. We caught the earliest train out and got back to the hostel at half past twelve. 

We also found out that our luggage was there all along — meaning I could’ve sent my GUIDON storylist via my laptop and I could’ve packed for Paris already. But it was fine. The next day the girls and I were going to Amsterdam for shopping — and, for Janna and me, to meet a friend. After that, the evaluations at the Lokaalmondiaal office. 

It all happened so fast. That’s what you get for having one adventure after another, I guess — things just seem to go by so quickly.

16 May

—this is where I’d want to end up in.

Early start to the day again, and early morning exercise too. We were running late, we had to check out of Hans Brinker, and we had to move our luggage to Gerwald’s car, which was waiting outside in the rain. Then we had to catch the train to Utrecht and meet Sven; from there, we were running to catch another connecting ride. I don’t think I’d get used to all the running, but I loved it anyway. All this running-around business makes every day feel like an adventure.

The weather, though, was gloomy, and it was really cold (and idiotic me was wearing only one layer of warm clothing), and for a while all I wanted to do was curl up under some warm blankets and do nothing. (I later was able to do that. But I’m getting ahead of myself). But surprisingly enough, even though we did a lot of Dutch things today, it remains the most chill and relaxing day I’ve had in the Netherlands yet.

We went first to our sleeping quarters, a house that Jolijn’s family owned and was occupied by mentally-handicapped persons they had taken in. Going through the quiet, sleepy town was a wonder; even though it was cold and damp, the rain lent the surroundings a kind of mystique. Which made the entire experience a lot less touristy — just as I had hoped it would be.

We removed our shoes at the door and entered the common room. I can’t tell you how delighted I was to be in such a cozy room at that temperature — we just sat there eating stroopwafels and coffee (my perfect combination!) and chatting. There was even a cat lying down lazily on the sofa beside us. 

After a snack, we drove to a cow farm, where of course Jio was very happy. He had a lot of photos with cows that day. 

We got to see a high-tech milking machine in action and even got to try fresh cow’s milk! I’m bad with describing tastes and flavors, but suffice it to say that it tasted wonderful. What’s even better was that we were offered the milk and some cake by a very sweet old lady. I really liked how very hospitable and cheerful she was. Her smile and happiness were infectious. She couldn’t speak English, but it didn’t matter; her eyes did all the talking. What a sweet woman.

We then went around to see the horses. Compared to our own local ones, the Philippine horses looked like mere ponies. As we went around the stables, I can’t help but imagine that this was very much like a scene from the Lord of the Rings. With a couple of hills in the scenery, Deil could very much be the Netherlands’ Middle Earth.

We had a lovely Dutch lunch afterwards — two kinds of soup, mini pancakes, sandwiches, and juices. Being in such a warm and comforting environment only added to the overall pleasantness of the lunch. We weren’t in a fastfood chain anymore, hurrying to eat our food before our next interview or next appointment; we were in someone’s home, eating at our own pace, chatting with friends as we usually do over the dinner table. It felt like home.

The girls got to ride the horses afterwards, which was a nice experience. After that, we picked our boots and drove to a vast field. After taking in some drinks and some cookies, we were briefed on the activity of the day: farmer’s golf.

I’m not much use in sports and I have never played golf in my life, but there’s always a first time for everything. It was exactly like golf, except the ball was bigger and the stick had a little shoe attached to the end. The team with the lowest number of strokes wins. I was teammates with Jolijn, Pia, and Jio, and together we formed the formidable Cow lekkers. 

This picture would look so cool…if only the ball was actually moving at a respectable speed. Photo by Jio.

I didn’t think I’d love it — because sports and me, we don’t really jell — but I did! What made it more interesting was that cows were grazing all over the field. Several times, we had to scare them away to get to the next hole. We hit some of them quite by accident too. But I guess the cows took it all in stride.

What a beautiful, beautiful field we were playing in. Tall trees, a misty afternoon, cold wind, green grass. At the fourth hole we were treated to some drinks. We sat on haystacks and talked about our siblings. If I could freeze a specific moment in time of our two weeks in the Netherlands, I’d probably choose this one. Free-flowing good conversation amidst a backdrop of picture-perfect scenery…I could get used to that life.

Eventually though we had to go on with the game. Our team won, thanks to Jio’s superb skills in golf and his ability to talk-to-cows-to-get-them-away-from-the-holes. We each won a bottle of champagne!

We went back to the house afterwards for dinner. We had hutspot — a traditional Dutch dish of mashed potatoes and some other things mixed in. We also had rookworst — a kind of sausage — alongside that. 

Afterwards we had the most chill night ever. Jio and I were tired from the awesomeness of winning that we stayed still in the sofa while everyone else cracked jokes or told stories. The Dutch had a lot of Belgian ones; Jio had a lot of green ones and/or jokes that always seemed to end up badly for Ans.

We just stayed there until midnight. We were that tired, and it was that cold.

In the end we slept at around midnight. The next day was back-to-normal day; everyone else was back to chasing interviews and stories, while I finally had another rest day to look forward to in Arnhem.

15 May

With all the work-related adventures we’ve been having so far, we thought it best to use our one free day to be actual tourists and go around Amsterdam. First on our list: the famed Keukenhof flower gardens. 

We’ve seen photos of rows upon rows of perfectly manicured lawns and brightly colored flowers. The park only disappointed in one respect — the rows of tulips had long gone, no thanks to global warming — but we still saw a lot of the blooms. And the vibrant colors — it felt like we were inside a Photoshopped picture with the saturation turned up.

The girls had long ago made a deal that for our Keukenhof day, we’d all be wearing dresses. It wasn’t the best of decisions; we ended up covering ourselves in our Ateneo jackets anyway, because it was so cold. Still, we managed to pick our favorite flowers and take photos of us being awed by the blooms and innocently smelling the tulips. I liked the yellow ones best; yellow is always a happy color.

We got to go up and inside a working windmill and took photos from there. It was unfortunate though that we spent only two hours inside the garden; there was so much more to see, and I would’ve loved it if we could just laze around on one of the benches, properly enjoying nature. But we couldn’t, because we had two more things planned for the day: visit the World Press Photo exhibition and the Anne Frank house. So we went back to the Red Light District area — again, even though I had already been here once that sudden turn and unexpected glimpse of flesh still took me by surprise. Curiously, the exhibit was in an old church, situated right next to the district. A church beside a prostitution center — odd, indeed.

One day, maybe, if my career path takes a different turn, I’d probably find myself as a photojournalist. There is something so wonderful about taking and sharing a captivating image. I’d once been so decided on going for print journalism, but the power of the visual still draws me in. Photos have a haunting quality, the kind that words can probably never give justice to. One day, I hope, my words and my photos will be as gripping as the images and the stories in that exhibit.

Going around the exhibit seemed and felt like a solemn affair. Everyone was quiet; the images were so powerful that, I guess, everyone felt the need to give it its proper reverence. I really liked a series of photos juxtaposing old images against new landscapes and skylines. Brilliant, creative ideas all around.

On the way back, we heard loud cheers coming from side streets. There was a football game ongoing, and the final moments were just playing out. Suddenly men were jumping wildly and shouting “kampione!” (er, or something like that). Drivers were honking their car horns, and people were hugging each other and waving flags. Apparently their home team, Ajax, had won in a championship football game. Sir Sev immediately ushered us out of the area before things could get rowdy, but I was intrigued and entranced. 

The shouts and celebrations followed us as we — sans Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi, who went ahead to prepare for their trip to Brussells the next day — made our way to Dam Square. In minutes, we found ourselves in the middle of an Ajax celebration group. We were surrounded by guys who were singing the Ajax song (I think) and shouting wildly. We cheered along. Never have I seen so many people dedicated to sports such as these guys:

Well, except maybe in Ateneo-La Salle games.

Looking back on it now, I kind of regret choosing to go cultural and seeing the Anne Frank house while an Ajax street party was ongoing in Dam Square. I mean, the Anne Frank house will always be there but a street party won’t. But anyway.

I was still eager to go because 1) Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi had said it was a must-see in Amsterdam, and 2) I was freezing, and could not wait to go inside where there was warmth. 

I really admire how the Dutch treat going into museums. They really do value them — well, aside from the fact that they have a LOT of museums to speak of (beer museum, sex museum, wax museum, you name it, they’re like SM with these things), they regard going into these places with a sort of reverence that I don’t remember encountering back home. Granted, the Anne Frank house and her story did demand it, but still. Their appreciation for culture and history was amazing.

Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi were right — the exhibit was moving. To actually be in there and to walk inside those rooms where a lot of secrets were kept and a lot of hopes stifled…there’s something about visiting old, historical places. You tend to remember what happened. Sometimes the events are grand and illustrious; sometimes they are just downright sad and tragic. This was one of them.

What hit me the most though was that her sister Margot’s diary was never found. Such a pity. I’m sure her voice and her story would’ve been as fascinating as her more famous sister.

And then, when we were headed back to the hostel…I have never seen Amsterdam so dirty. Sir Sev had texted us that the trams weren’t operational, as there were too many people on the streets and far too much trash. People were drinking beer out in public and getting wasted. We ate at a very crowded McDonald’s nearby and even that wasn’t safe from the revelers (on an interesting sidenote: we tried out stroopwafel McFlurry. It was really good). Not surprisingly, Hans Brinker wasn’t completely immune either. There we were, minding our own business and surfing the web in the bar, and then these revelers would go on and sing the Ajax theme song. Oh, these crazy football fans (no offense Jio, we love you). It was a great experience nonetheless, to see another side of Amsterdam — an Amsterdam that’s different from the touristy postcards.

ETA: Jio just linked us this video. LSS!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_sHEJb7VOS4&feature=player_embedded

Yes, this was what we endured hearing all day long. Ajax!

14 May

You know in those sad, tearjerker movies where the girl, who’s dying of some terrible, terminal disease, makes up a bucket list of things she wants to do before dying and one of them involves being in two places at the same time? 

Well, we went to three.

We hadn’t intended to, actually. All our little jokes of getting on an international train and missing our stop and finding ourselves in Germany or Belgium or Switzerland sort of actually came true — except that we weren’t in an international train. We were with my awesome buddy Jolijn and her equally awesome boyfriend Joost. We met up with them in Amersfoort and began our two-hour journey to the south of the Netherlands by car.

A roadtrip, it definitely was. I slept for a good bit on the way there, and when I woke up the houses looked very, very different. None of the high houses that characterized the Amsterdam skyline; the houses were lower, more modern, more modest. I’ve read that Maastricht was influenced by Belgian and German designs, since it was so close to the borders of the two countries. I don’t really know much about design and architecture, but even in my eyes they really did look different.

We got to our intended stop and registered for our cavebiking adventure. I started doubting my capability to cycle on for 70 kilometers in the dark, under the earth, when I saw how far down we had to descend to get to our starting point. It looked like an abyss, really! Fortunately we were with a group of German (I think) tourists who were making jokes about the entire thing. They were really great company.

It was cold down below, after a hundred or so steps leading to the underground cavern. It looked well kept actually; strategically placed lights on the floor provided just the right illumination for us. It actually felt like we were inside an Egyptian pyramid. We also found a Pepsi vending machine, something that one of the Germans noted was probably the coolest vending machine in the world.

We were given hairnets and instructed to choose a bike appropriate for our height. Because I was short (relative to European standards, if I may add), I got a bike with a lamp that is only on as long as I kept pedaling. Which means, if I stop cycling, the light goes out. Which is something I never, ever wanted to experience in a cold and dark cave, all alone.

To make sure no one gets lost (and never found), a person was assigned to be at the rear of the group. A guy from the other group, named Will, was picked. Our guide would shout out his name from time to time, and we’d shout them until he hears it and shouts back “Complete!” We’d pass this along to the front as well. 

It didn’t turn out exactly right the first time we tried. Our guide shouted “Will!” and we shouted along, but we never heard a “Complete!” back from him. First try and he had already lagged behind. Moments like these made the entire adventure funny. 

People got lost, of course. Thrice our guide made us stop so he could go back and fetch the others. Sometimes we shouted “sharp right!” or “low!” whenever we had to. We whizzed through entire corridors; my favorite parts were when we were going downhill, and the ceiling was low, so we’d just lean forward on our bikes and maintain our hold on the brakes. Our bikes were light but scarily fast; I had to half-brake it most of the time, just in case I veer wildly off course and fall off or something. 

We stopped at a quarry and saw faint outlines of animal skeletons on the cave roofs. We switched off all lights and for the first time I experienced complete and utter darkness; I stretched my arm out, thinking my imagination would supply the rest, but apparently my imagination sucked because I did not see anything at all. 

In a matter of minutes we were back. 70 kilometers in one and a half hours — and for the first time since I got to Europe, I was sweating. I had almost forgotten what sweat feels like.

After our adventure under the earth, it was time for our cross-country ‘tour’. Earlier that day Jolijn and Joost casually asked us if we’d like to eat in Belgium or Germany afterwards. Belgium or Germany! In my head I was thinking, those are entirely different countries you’re talking about, and you speak of them as if they were just nearby cities! Landlocked Europe is such a wonder. Anyway, they took us first to the three-country point and the labyrinth nearby. First time in a real and proper labyrinth! For a while we imagined being in the Triwizard Tournament. We even had faux British accents to go with the whole thing.

And finally, we got to a circle with three flags erected on it — the three-country point. I was in the Netherlands one minute, and in Belgium the next. We even got to explore a German forest! Talk about awesome. What added to the experience was getting two successive text messages from T-Mobile, our Dutch SIM provider. Welcome to Deutschland, it said. Then, Welcome to Belgium! We were there, we really were there. Dear Sir Sev…we aren’t kidding this time.

The choice of whether to go to Germany or Belgium was decided on whether we’d rather go for German sausages or Belgian fries. 

The fries won.

Meanwhile, Belgian scenery was classic “Sound of Music” landscapes. If we had more time, I would’ve wanted to go running off in the fields and sing (off-key). But for now, the sights would do.

While looking for a friterie, we instead stumbled onto this church. Real Belgian church, yo.

Obviously this is not a photo of a church. But it is a photo of the candles that were present in said church.

Once we finally found our friterie, we got to use what little knowledge we had of French! In some parts of Belgium Dutch was spoken, and in other parts French was the language of choice. We had arrived on the French side, so we were able to use our “Excusez moi” and “merci beacoup” and “sac un papier” (when we had to take some of the fries for home). We probably overused it, so we looked more and more like tourists every time we tried speaking in French.

What a beautiful summer day it was in Belgium. The sun was shining fiercely but the wind was cool when we were outside on picnic benches, eating our fries. The neighborhood was nice and quiet. Everything looked cinema-worthy. And there we were, four girls and two amused Dutch, reveling in the fact that we were in Belgium, and that the trip was unplanned, spontaneous. I love surprise trips like these. One minute we were in the Netherlands, and the next thing we knew — “Would you like to go to Belgium?”

We had to go early though, because it was a two-hour ride back to the Netherlands. Since we were roadtripping anyway, we put on our roadtrip songs! We wanted to put on our Europe playlist, but instead “Party in the USA” came on first. We sang along anyway. We went on Eraserheads mode afterwards.

We bid goodbye to Joost and Jolijn at -’s Hertogenbosch and went back to Hans Brinker. Surprisingly, we got there quite early. We were just about to knock on Sir Sev’s room to tell him we were home, but they must’ve heard our voices, because the door opened even before we could knock. And immediately we were all smiles and simultaneously said “Sir Seeeeev!” and told him of our adventures that afternoon. We were grinning from ear to ear. We couldn’t help it.

What a day, really. It’s really hard not to love our lives here — something new and awesome happens everyday. It can get overwhelming sometimes — if I don’t write it down, the days would all just mesh together — but I don’t mind, I don’t mind. Nowhere have I felt that life is an adventure than in this moment, right here, right now.

13 May

I was supposed to go to Delft with Jem today, but I had an interview with a barrel organ maker and some street musicians. No regrets at all; I had an amazing day in Amsterdam.

I met Jolijn in the Central Station, and we walked to Dam Square. In the morning it was still quiet; there were only a couple of street performers getting ready to start their day. We met Lindsay, an Australian street musician who’s been all over the world — Iceland, Scandinavia, Poland, Germany, Spain, and Japan, among others. I asked him why he does what he does.

“When you have an artistic temperament, you have to express it, it’s in your blood,” he says. Wow. It surprised me that people really DO go through these things; they really do go off into the unknown in the name of art. There’s no certainty in the life they lead, no stable career or future, no promise of a house for the night or a proper breakfast. What was certain was that everyday promises a new adventure. I suppose there is a certain thrill to leading that kind of life. 

It was still too early to hear his set, so we went ahead to find G. Perlee, a family-run company who makes and restores draaiorgels (barrel and street organs). These street organs have been a colorful part of Holland culture and history. As with the things of the past though, only a few of these organs remain on the streets. Most are now in private collections or museums.

Throughout that morning I felt very privileged to be audience to the workings behind a family heritage. Mr. Perlee was very friendly and more than willing to explain to me how their company started, what they do, and how the organs work. He was kind enough to play a couple of songs for us and he even let me use the organs! He also showed us how they make music for the instruments.

Despite some of the modern tools he uses, all of it was very much a personal labor of love. I really admire his dedication to the craft. The instruments he is fond of may not be as popular now as it was before, but he keeps working on keeping them in good shape anyway. Again, passion and dedication; he just loves what he does.

When we returned to Dam Square, we found the street performances already in full swing: there were men covered in body paint who stood as still as statues; organ players, and street musicians. Lindsay was already playing his dulcima by then. He and his partner were actually quite good; their music sounded planned and well thought out. It wasn’t just sound played out to earn a couple of euros; it was real and proper music, the kind deserving of the term. I wish the performers back home took music seriously too — although some street musicians are undeniably talented, a lot of them obviously do it for the money.

After this very productive morning, I was supposed to meet with Jem for our planned biking-around-the-city afternoon. We had always wanted to bike around Amsterdam since well, we’re in the Netherlands — we’ve already biked in the controlled, safe environment of De Veluwe national park, but never in the chaotic metro of Amsterdam. I was a bit nervous — I did not like the idea of death by bike — but we gave it a shot anyway. It was around 4pm when we rented our bikes, so we had around two hours to go around the city. 

We were meeting the group at 6pm in Amsterdam Central Station to go visit the Red Light District, so we figured it was not the right time to be explorers and get lost in the city. So we took the safe route — just following the tram tracks. We stayed on the bike lane, slowed down whenever another bike overtook us, or when a car was whizzing past us. 

What an overwhelming feeling. Going around the city was so much easier, and for a while Jem and I could pretend we were locals too. The weather and the road conditions were so conducive to biking. If I lived there, I’d probably trade in a car for a bike.

We eventually made it back to Dam Square and took our usual touristy shots-beside-a-bike and shots-on-a-bridge. We stopped by a souvenir shop to buy some pasalubong for our friends back home, and hurried back to Hans Brinker through a different route. On the way back to the bike shop, we saw Sir Sev and Ma’am Gigi getting ready to go. We went with them and met up with Boris and the others at the station.

We went to the Chinatown part of the Netherlands, which seemed to be on the outskirts of the Red Light District itself. First order of the day: get some Chinese food into our system. So we stopped at the first restaurant with ‘dimsum’ written on it, and got ourselves all warmed up with hot soup and the wonderfully familiar taste of rice. It was the most fulfilling meal I’ve had in the Netherlands yet.

And then we proceeded to the Red Light District.

There were no markers or signs that told you you were already there, so it caught me by surprise when I turned a corner and scantily-clad girls in windows suddenly appear out of nowhere. I couldn’t look them in the eye, and would rather not too; we’ve been told that they don’t take kindly to tourists ogling at them or taking their photos. So I never dared. I didn’t exactly fancy getting my camera broken on its first trip abroad.

For someone who’s consistently seen the world through rose-colored glasses, this was a shocker. Everything was out in the open — graphic illustrations, signs proudly declaring the kind of items they sell in store, girls inside glass windows. I’ve been in the Netherlands for several days and this was just about the first time that I felt culture shocked.

What was interesting about the entire experience was that on our way back, one girl thought Jem was taking photos of her (Jem was absentmindedly fiddling with her camera) and threw a candy bar at her. We did not expect that at all; good thing that was all that happened though.

While Sir Sev, Ma’am Gigi and Dav went back to the hostel, we went to have a drink somewhere in the area. Janna and I shared a bottle of Desperados, just because my sister had told me it was the best beer she had tasted in Europe. It was actually my first time drinking beer. It wasn’t so bad.

We went back a little early because we had busy schedules the next day. Jio was doing fierljeppen while we girls were going to Maastricht for cave biking. And it turned out to be one hell of an adventure, too.

Aside: sign I saw near Amsterdam central station —