Wanderlust

My year here has gone by with astonishing speed. I've made no secret of the fact that the time I've spent here has been nothing short of idyllic. Despite working a steady job and finally getting a life, my time here has been something of a vacation.

In this meantime, I've been able to hold off making some major decisions. I've been able to settle into life without a plan, without a map, and no clear vision of what I will be doing, say, 5 years from now. It's all still an absolute blank.

Is it all the open-endedness that is making me suddenly feel very antsy? Or is it because I am more of a free spirit than I actually thought and that the possibilities are the driving force behind my vague restlessness?

It's crazy. It's radical. It may be the by-product of an insanity resulting from suddenly being lost after being stuck on a plan for most of my life. At an age when I should be thinking about settling down, acquiring assets, making a family... I'm having fantasies about leaving medicine and working as a barista as I move from one country to another, seeing the world one city at a time.

Okay, maybe that's a little bit extreme... but you guys sort of get the picture.

I'd been conditioned to have very definite views on where I would be at this particular point in my life... done with my schooling and on the way to being established in my career; married to a stable, reliable guy; getting started on the 2.5 kids - pretty much on the way to living a comfortable, if ordinary, happily ever after. I'd always fancied myself as a home-and-hearth type of person, and I know I'm the kind of person who will always need to put down roots. I won't lie that I don't want all of the above someday - because I do. But...

Maybe not just yet.

I recently had lunch with a younger but wiser friend of mine - who has lived a much more interesting life than I have even if I have almost a decade of living over him. This is one of the perks of living in a land where people are all raised to indulge their wanderlust. Ozzies, I've found, are born nomads. Maybe it's because they have so much space to roam in.

There I was, whinging about how lucky he was that he could just up and go wherever he wanted on a whim, when he cut me off with a very succint, "And who told you that you couldn't?"

I started to give him a list. Society, family, my own need for security, blah, blah, blah... to which he countered, "But all of that is in your mind. Can't you do what you want and still be living up to people's expectations?"

Tantalizing thoughts.

His last piece of advice to address my restlessness? "Maybe it's just time for you to move again."

The roads are open, the possibilities - while not endless - do exist.
This is not me. I hate change. I don't want to go to another city and start over... do I?
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Landing with a Splat

Modern pop culture will never run out of material to peddle romantic love upon hapless, easily influenced people. Whether it's in the form of the ubiquitous boy-meets-girl-and-they-live-happily-ever-after rom com movie, the prolific body of romance fiction, the music we listen to, the ads we see... yes, the whole process of falling in love has been beaten to death - and yet, we all still suck it in.

What they don't tell you, though, is that for a good number of people in the world, the whole romantic love thing often ends with one landing with one huge splat.

It's so easy to be cynical about the whole love thing these days. How can't I be when I'm surrounded by long-standing relationships falling apart? I recently took care of a patient who had recently divorced his wife of more than 50 years - he's 73. How does anyone get divorced at 73? Talk about disposable.

I've always been pretty pragmatic about relationships, consistently leading with my head rather than my heart, whether I am viewing others' romances or my long string of never-was-es. Despite never being in one myself, serious or otherwise, I know it takes a lot of hard work and commitment to make things work. But even then, there are still no guarantees.

It makes me wonder sometimes why people even bother trying.

The odd thing is, though, there's still a part of me that believes it is possible. Possible to fall without landing in a big, messy splat. Possible to make things work and go the distance. Possible for relationships to survive even when the amorphous Hollywood love has faded away and grown to become the real thing. And when it does happen - and thankfully I've seen this, too - it's a wonderful thing to see.

Besides, as one wise friend of mine says, "No one has really ever died from a broken heart. You can cry a little, hurt a lot, and then you get over it. You always get over it - and come away stronger and wiser besides."

So maybe that's why, despite the odds, people still keep trying. Because part of us all want to believe it can be possible. And because anyone who is too afraid to let himself fall will also never experience what it's like to fly.

I hope someday I can meet someone who makes me forget all about the ground so far below, just waiting for me to crash land. It must be wonderful to leap off that edge and just let your heart fly.



A late, very late, submission to Em Dy's TBR Round Up on Love.
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Lemonade Love

I'm ending my blogging hiatus - partly due to life-induced writer's block and partly due to being totally inundated with Facebook tags - to say thanks to Marj for this lemonade love she sent me for having a blog with "attitude and gratitude."

I can't say I've been sporting much of an attitude here these days - I've been a touch confused about life lately, hence the utter wasteland that is my creative life. But I am most definitely filled with gratitude for this wonderful affirmation from a spunky blogger and blog buddy whose entries I always enjoy. Hugs to you, Marj!

I've always blogged mainly for the catharsis of it - which is why my little corner of cyberspace has always been as random as I am in real life - and because I have always loved to write. I never expected it to last for as long as it has, nor have I expected to have found so many kindred souls through it who are actually happy to take this journey of growth along with me. And those are more things, huge things, that I am most certainly grateful for.

Now for my turn to spread the love... I am giving my lemonade love to:

1. Megamom - my once-teacher and life-mentor, who juggles the chaos that is her life with triplets and a full-time career with unflappable grace.

2. Manggy - who shares his love for food and life in this visually satisfying but hunger-inducing blog

3. Panaderos - whose insightful entries are bakery goodies of wisdom.

4. Iris - who's spunky and sassy and making her way through life heart-whole

5. Jean - who's always big on honesty and an attitude to die for

6. Abaniko - whose lovely photos of places he's been always inspire a tug of envy but more a dollop of gratitude about being alive in such a wonderful world.

7. Pepper - the ultimate Miss Positive powered by her faith;

8. Merry Cherry - who is following her heart into service to our countrymen.

9. Woobie - no one does attitude like Woobie does. :) No one. When it comes to romance matters, I want to be her when I grow up!

10. Honey - whose attitude towards living life to the fullest cannot be beat. I miss you, sis!

Your turn to spread the lemonade love!

Here are the rules:
1. put the logo on your blog or post
2. nominate at least 10 blogs, which show great attitude and/or gratitude!
3. be sure to link to your nominees within your post and let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog
4. share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.
5. How did you get a great attitude and gratitude

Okay... blogging done, off to yoga now. Have a good Sunday everyone! Click here to read the rest of this post.

Seven

These Facebook note tags are getting a little bit out of hand for me - probably because my FB friends (of which there is a ridiculously large number - not that I'm complaining) have hit on my weakness for answering almost any tag that's sent to me.

This one, though, was interesting enough to steal off my friend's page and do voluntarily. Having done it voluntarily didn't mean I wasn't going to tag anyone else to do it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure anyone I've tagged on FB for this one has done it. I was hoping the people I tagged would answer them, too - because I really do like to knowing what their personal sevens will be. :)) What can I say? I'm a tag addict.

So I am tagging another seven of my blog buddies and friends for this interesting little tag - Merry Cherry, Marj, Iris, Abaniko, Ann, Ness, and my cousin Anna. Looking forward to reading about your "Sevens!"

Seven Things That Scare Me

1) Dying utterly alone - I've seen this recently, and it's the saddest thing ever

2) Taking risks

3) Being the only doctor in a plane where there's a medical emergency taking place

4) Making a horrendously wrong decision - whether it's professional or personal

5) Going into a coma (persistent vegetative state) for years and years - if this ever happens to me, and you know I can't be pulled out of it, please pull the plug on aggressive life support and let me go. Seriously. This is not life, it's living death, and I want no part of it.

6) Having kids and raising them to become as neurotic as me

7) Heights. I can't do heights.



Seven Things I Like The Most

1) Being at the beach - any season, any time, with friends or alone.

2) Coffee or a meal with friends, topped by lots of laughter and good conversation.

3) Days off!

4) Traveling. There's so much beauty to be seen in the world, and I can't get enough of it.

5) Driving - as long as there is no bumper-to-bumper traffic. It's motor therapy. My car is my inner psychiatrist's couch, my concert hall, and my happy place. Yes, even when I get lost.

6) Doing nothing, just being.

7) The effects of alcohol - when taken in moderation.



Seven Random Facts About Me

1) I have wheedled, argued, and flashed my MD license and talked my way out of getting any traffic tickets in Manila - and am currently batting at a 100%. Unfortunately, you can't do that here in Perth!

2) I read my first grown-up romance novel when I was ten (what can I say, I was precocious) and have been a bit of an addict ever since.

3) My caffeine shot for the morning is usually taken from a 300ml bottle of Diet Coke Lime or Coke Zero.

4) I’m shy around new people - seriously. The strange thing is, I would rather speak in public to a big audience or sing onstage than meet new people.

5) I like sleeping with lots and lots of pillows. The minimum number for me is always two - one to lie on and one to hug.

6) I was always one of the last kids to be chosen for kickball - or any sport for that matter. Hmmm... why is that translating into my real life at this age?

7) I used to speak in rapid-fire English when I was ticked off or upset when I was back home. Now that I speak English most of the time, I find that I lose my English when I'm ticked off or upset and revert to Filipino instead. Weird!



Seven Important Things In My Bedroom

1) My passport

2) My iPod and the cheap dock I play it on

3) My expanding file - which contains all my documents and records from back home

4) My laptop

5) Medical books - Murtagh, Current Peds, and Volume 2 of my beloved Harry (Harrison's Principles of IM)

6) My heaps of pillows

7) Aromatherapy candles



Seven Things I Plan To Do Before I Die

1) See as much of the world as possible.

2) Scuba dive. At least once.

3) Do something reckless and totally out of character - and not when I'm drinking, okay!

4) Fall in love, utterly, utterly - without caring if I land in one big splat. (I have yet to meet anyone who can make me feel this way)

5) Write a novel

6) Learn to lapdance. Seriously. :) Or at least take one lesson!

7) Live by the sea. To literally have the sea in my backyard.




Seven Things I Can Do

1) Run 5 kilometers - on a good day. On a bad day, I struggle to even get to 3. How am I ever going to get to 10!

2) Sing!

3) Be drunk and passed out at 4AM and still be up at 7AM and at the gym working out by 830. (Yes, this has actually happened.)

4) Cook a very good lasagna.

5) Sound quite intelligent about something that I have no idea about.

6) Have "dumb blonde" moments quite often.

7) Touch my tongue to my chin - but not to my nose.



Seven Things I Can’t Do

1) Stick to a strict diet. I love my junk too much.

2) Dance - but these days I'm doing it at the gym anyway. ;P It's heaven working out somewhere you are so sure you won't bump into anyone you know!

3) Get rid of my tummy, no matter how hard I try. *sigh*

4) Express myself when the issue is an emotional one. I just tend to hold it in and be frustrated.

5) Stop crying once I get started. Which is why I hate to cry.

6) Drive like a guy. I admit it, I am someone who gives women drivers a bad name.

7) Do something without overanalyzing it to death first.



Seven Things That Attract Me To The Opposite Sex

1) A sense of humor that jives with mine. He has to be able to make me laugh!

2) A fair degree of intelligence or at least street smarts. We have to have interesting conversations, and he has to be able to stand up to me in an argument.

3) He's someone I should be able to look up to and respect.

4) A good smile and nice eyes.

5) Someone who can sing or play an instrument always has heaps of bonus points from me.

6) Treats his mom, sisters, and girl friends well, without exception.

7) Someone who's responsible, goal-directed, and knows what he wants out of life. (It sort of balances out my indecisiveness.)


Seven Things I Say The Most

1) "Fudge!" (curse substitute!)

2) "I'll do (supply verb here) after 5 minutes." (And then after 5 minutes, I ask myself for 5 more minutes... the mark of a true procrastinator.)

3) "We'll see how it goes..." (This is very catch-all!)

4) "Bloody (supply noun here)!" (Yes, I use "bloody" - pretentious-sounding as it may be with my confused Pinoy accent and I have been using it for years, long before I came to live here. I picked it up from my Oz uncle on the many visits I did before actually coming to stay.)

5) "Oh... my... God...!" (Pauses are included for emphasis.)

6) "Have a good day!" (My new automatic "goodbye" to complete strangers - something I have learned to do over here.)

7) "What the...!"


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Disaster Queen Strikes Again

It's the last day of my long weekend, but, despite not having gone off somewhere far away as originally planned, I've had a fairly good one. Apart from the fact that I almost got hopelessly stuck in a beachside city of Rockingham last Friday with only twenty cents to my name after my car keys disappeared.

How could she be so stupid?, you must be asking yourself with a shake of your head. Believe me, I asked the same of myself several times the next few hours that followed.

The day started out pretty great - I'd managed to drive all the way to Freo to have lunch with a friend of mine who works there (her treat, which is always a good thing) and, as part of my resolution to use my long weekend right, I decided to go further afield to somewhere I'd never been before, let alone driven to. As I drove along Stock Road, veering towards the southern beaches, I even flirted with the idea of going as far as Mandurah - which is almost 80 kilometers out of Perth - but settled for Rockingham, which is just around 50 kilometers out.

As soon as I saw the almost swimming pool calmness of the turquoise waters and the golden sands from the foreshore, I was in love.

Much as I love the beautiful Aussie beaches, this was the first one I'd seen that had absolutely no surf. Which is a god-send for me because, while I know how to swim, I don't consider myself a strong enough swimmer to really spend too much time in the rough and ready waters of the beaches to the north. So, understandably, I completely abandoned my plans for sight-seeing and photo-ops for a chance to hit the beach instead.

I had a fun couple of hours just floundering alone around in the clear, calm water and doing a bit of baking in the sun (what's summer without a bathing suit tanline?). I had decided on a run along the foreshore to top off my idyllic summer day, having brought both my beach gear and running gear (one of the best things about having a car is that you can bring EVERYTHING with you), so I got out of the water with just enough time to spare for a shower, a run, and still be on my way home before dark. After walking in ignorant bliss to my car to get my running gear, I was completely shell-shocked to find that MY CAR KEY WAS NOT ON ME AT ALL.

So there I was, the solo traveler wannabe, staring helplessly at my locked car - where my handbag and wallet and all my money were - dripping with sea water from my afternoon frolic in the sun and close to tears. I could have sworn I had taken my car key with me when I changed into my bathing suit. But after having gone through each item inside my beach tote and laying them on the hood of my car one by one, I had to face the fact that IT WAS GONE.

In a stunned daze, I went to the shower rooms to change back into my street clothes to give myself time to regroup and figure out what to do. All my money was in the car, so I couldn't take public transport to the house (a two hour trip one way at least!) to get my spare key. There was only one way to get out of the scrape - call for help. Thankfully, I had the foresight to have my mobile phone with me, and promptly rang one of my co-residents the only person with a car who lives in my suburb.

Just my luck - he was on duty until 11 pm. Of course it was out of the question for me to wait for him until 11pm - this being Perth, all establishments close at 9pm at the latest. So we hatched a plan for me to get a cab back to Armadale, which he would pay for when I got there since I had no money on me, then drive back to Rockingham after his shift with my spare key so I could take my car home.

When my other Pinoy friends caught wind of the trouble I was in, they vetoed the plan and proposed an alternative - for them to pick me up instead. They would go to my house (at least 18 kilometers from where they lived) to get my spare key then drive the rest of the way to Rockingham (another 30 to 40 kms away). And they wouldn't take no for an answer.

It was so embarrassing to have to be rescued. Nonetheless, I was just so glad that I was near enough for them to be able to rescue me!

As a mortifying postscript to an already mortifying travel disaster, I found my car keys the next day under the piles of stuff inside my trunk. It must have fallen from my pocket or I must have tossed it in withe rest of my stuff when I was so excitedly preparing for my swim. OH MY GOD.

Er... Is this someone who thinks she can actually go on a solo holiday somewhere in the woop-woops? Go ahead, you can say it. Claire is a disaster area. I must be out of my fricking mind to even consider it!

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Happiness is a Plate of Tocino

Tocino by Jepster

One of the things I miss most about home is being able to eat Pinoy food.

I do get samplings of it every now and then during get-togethers with my fellow ex-pat friends, but Filipino feasts are few and far in between. I do know how to cook traditional Pinoy meals, but for reasons I've already explained before, I really, really hate cooking for one. And I'm also not very good at improvising in the kitchen with western ingredients.

But now, thanks to my ex-pat friends (and this is just one more reason why it's a MUST to have fellow Pinoy friends abroad) and by virtue of having my own car, it's no longer a pipe dream to have a taste of home.

A few weeks ago, my friend Michelle took me to an Asian grocery store in a suburb about a 30 minute drive from where I live. It was well worth the drive as I finally got to stock up on my favorite Pinoy comfort foods - Barrio Fiesta bagoong, preserved green mangoes, dried squid, Mang Tomas lechon sauce, and Lucky Me instant pancit canton, just to name a few. And guess what else? Tocino mix!

Tocino has always been my favorite all-day breakfast food - probably in part because of my sweet tooth. Tocino plus a serving of garlic rice and one fried egg with atsara or vinegar on the side is my idea of a great Pinoy meal. It was too hard to resist flirting with the possibility of being able to eat it again - so I bought myself a pack, a half kilo of thinly sliced pork tenderloin, and decided to experiment.

Not that it takes a lot of culinary skill to dump pork in a container, mix in the sugar-food-coloring-and-nitrite concoction, and let it sit overnight to let the pork cure. But I'd tried the same with chicken fillets a few weeks before, and the results were not exactly great, so I was really putting a lot on faith that my new experiment would turn out well.

After an overnight soak, in just fifteen minutes cooking time, I had my picture-perfect pork tocino, which I paired with my trusty microwaved steamed rice. (Unfortunately, I was too hungry and excited to take actually pictures for my blog and just dug in.) And it tasted just like what we had back home. Yes, success!

Next time, I'm definitely splurging calories on the garlic rice and the fried egg. If any of you happen to have family living in Perth who know where to get good atsara to go with my tocino, please let me know - you will be in my "God-bless-you" list for the rest of my life.

Hmmm, living down here has certainly expanded my definition of "life's little joys." At the moment, a plate of home made tocino happens to be one of them.
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Proud of Me

It's been almost exactly a year to the day that I wrote about my decision to defy gravity. I remember the terror of standing in front of the gaping Unknown and gathering whatever courage I could muster to prepare for that unprecedented leap.

It's a huge leap for anyone to make. But for someone who is as resistant to change, security-loving, and approval-seeking as I am, doing this in defiance of all that was sensible and practical and SAFE... it's beyond describing.

It's only on hindsight that I realize just what a leap of faith I took. Not only did I get off the safe and straight road I wasn't sure I still wanted to be on, but I traded the security of home and family for life on my own in a city where I knew no one, to which I came with literally only the clothes in my suitcases and a lot of hopes and prayers.

I guess I didn't recognize just how trapped and unhappy I was in my life back home - even if I had almost everything I needed and my life seemed to be on the right track - until I found the gumption to just make that change.

I was right. Having made one brave choice in defiance of what is expected, everything else has followed.

So here I am. I'm not just surviving - I think I can say I'm thriving. And I can say with certainty that, despite my being away from all that is familiar, despite still not having a plan, despite still not knowing how far I still have to fall - I am most definitely so much happier.

Over the past few weeks, I've had several conversations with good friends who have known me for years, heard me complain about the rut I'd stuck myself in, and encouraged me to take the drastic steps I needed to get out of it. And in as many conversations, they've all told me the same thing - that they're proud of me. Not just of what I've done so far, but because I'm making an effort to open up my life to even more possibilities.

It's heartening and touching to know that they see a change, continue to believe in me, and are totally behind what I'm doing - even if I really have no idea just what it is I'm doing at the moment. Their belief and encouragement help firm up my conviction that, hey, I guess I should be proud of me, too.

Because a year later, I'm still flying. And at this point? I can't see any end in sight.

I can feel it. It's going to be another great year.

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Christmas Out of the Box

In spite of my efforts to be positive about my first Christmas away from home, it was still difficult not to feel homesick and lonely and just a little bit sorry for myself as I ate my lonely Noche Buena of chili-flavored cream cheese, crackers, and hospital-issue minestrone soup in the doctors' office on Christmas eve. I realized that even our past Christmases at work did not prepare me for the impact of spending Christmas so alone, so very far away.

I decided to work through the holidays simply because I didn't really have any plans with other people - and I figured being alone on Christmas at work beat a microwaved meal passing for Christmas eve feasting at home.

Despite being at work, as I ate my meager repast, I couldn't help but imagine what I was missing. The raucous, cheerful atmosphere around the table at home at the same moment, with aunts, uncles, cousins, and my immediate family, feasting over Mom's kare-kare, Dad's dinuguan, and all sorts of gastronomic goodies Filipino and continental; the mayhem of family sitting in front of the tree, exchanging gifts and tearing open packages. I've always been a bit of a Christmas scrooge, but being far away has heightened my appreciation of the family rituals surrounding it.

The long distance phone call my family placed from my Aunt's house where the clan was gathered for Noche Buena (which was inevitably cut off mid-call) and hearing everyone's good wishes were pale substitutes for actually being there.

I didn't really set out to spend the holidays alone, but it would have been too complicated to shuffle my schedule to accommodate an out-of-town trip to visit family and friends across the continent despite the sincere invites I'd gotten from them months in advance. Besidses, all of my Perth friends have opted to spend the holidays over east, and most of my family in Melbourne have flown off to spend Christmas in Manila. As I sat alone in the doctors' office through the night, waiting for admissions and referrals and fighting off a monster headache due to working three nights in a row, I thought I should have made an effort of get time off instead of braving my first Christmas alone, but it was too late to do anything about it but make do.

After I realized I had missed morning Mass (the only one for the day in my small parish), I came home from work this morning hoping that I was exhausted enough to sleep through the day. But I was awake by early afternoon, and all alone in a very quiet house because my other housemates probably had plans to spend the days with their friends and family. For late Christmas lunch, I microwaved a portion of roast Chicken I had bought a few days ago with a generous dollop of spicy Mang Tomas lechon sauce to remind me of home, which I ate at the table with my landlady's cat for company.

Determined to shake off my funk with an endorphin high, I decided to head off for the beach and go for a run. It was the best choice I made all day, as the summer sunshine and the brisk breeze off the beautiful, green Indian ocean melted a good portion of my blues away. It was a good reminder that while there are things to be homesick about, being here has definitely had some great rewards - and being able to run along the coast I loved on a whim was one of them.

I topped off my strange, solitary Christmas day with more comfort food in the form of Lucky Me instant pancit canton reserved for special occasions like this one, as I finished off the opened bottle of bubbly in the fridge. The best part of the late evening, though, was long-distance conversations with well-missed friends whose voices I was so glad to hear. And as my night wound down, I realized that the day hadn't been quite so bad after all.

Yes, I survived my solitary Christmas out of the box. Still, nothing beats being able to spend Christmas at home - and, God-willing, I'm hoping that's just where I will be this same time next year, even if it takes some schedule juggling.

So I'm sending special wishes to everyone out there like me spending this holiday season far away from home, making do with friends, surrogate families, and long-distance phone calls in lieu of being with their loved ones. Merry Christmas and all the best to you - and may the love and warmth of family and friends reach out to embrace you even if they are oceans away, no matter where you are.
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Cheers!

Going into the sixth month since I took my flying leap into the unknown, it appears I am finally getting the semblance of a real life over here. A life that, despite my current state of limbo, I am very much enjoying.

What's not to enjoy? I'm making new connections, finding new interests, and discovering myself in this city that feels less like a stranger and now more like a friend each day I live in it. Sleepy Perth on the water may not have the cosmopolitan feel of Sydney or Melbourne, but I'm still quite surprised at how well we suit. I'm still surprised at how I love the laid-back, outdoorsy lifestyle and the absence of the maddening crowd I'd grown up with in busy Manila. I'm still surprised at how the simple beauty of the city still packs a punch even as the novelty of being here has begun to wear off.

I'm still surprised at how it's beginning to feel less like other and a little bit more like home.

Finding new friends has been a big factor in helping me ease into this life. While having had this time alone has taught me much about myself, being around new friends has taught me even more by giving me fresh perspectives. I've been blessed enough to have found people outside of work to intrude upon this forced solitude and alter the once solitary pattern of my days. And it's great knowing that there are now actually people who care for and worry about me within a hundred kilometer radius.

I still can't quite believe that the year I had originally planned to stay here is almost half done. I'm still flailing in the chasm of the unknown, but I'm having a great ride while I'm at it. While I still can't quite picture where I will be even just six months from now, I am savoring my uncomplicated state of simply living in the now.

Maybe, just maybe, I really am settling in. And that's definitely something to drink to.

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Limbering Up

I've just come home from a session of Body Balance, the only fitness class at the gym I attend regularly, and am feeling so loose, strong, and limber.

Many of my friends, specially the ones who knew me in high school and before, often struggle to hide their surprise when I tell them that I dabble in something that involves having to twist and stretch and push your body into funny poses. Apart from my well-vaunted reputation for athletic stupidity, I guess it's a bit difficult to imagine someone as sturdy-looking as me can be flexible enough to do the poses.

I can't blame them for it - because none of them is probably more surprised about it than me.

I was first introduced to yoga while I was studying for our medical boards a few years ago. A few friends of mine and I were bunking in to review together during the last few weeks leading to the exam and looking for a means to diffuse the stress build up in our apartment. One of them had a friend who was a real yoga master (orange robes, flowing hair and all) who was willing to come to our little HQ once a week gratis to teach us. The rest of the week, we would all wake up really early and do the sequences together on our own until he taught us a new set. It was a strange experience at first, working through the menagerie of poses named after animals that constantly challenged my often uncooperative muscles, joints, and ligaments. But I was quickly won over.

The stretches were awesome and must be experienced to be fully understood. Imagine how good you feel after one really good stretch. Multiply that great feeling by the number of muscle groups used - and that will give you a rough idea how great your body feels after a yoga work out. And as a stress-buster, the relaxation that closes each session cannot be beaten. I'd always come out of a session relaxed and centered and feeling wonderful.

The most amazing thing about it, though, was how my impossibly inflexible body actually became more pliable with every session we did. So much so that I was actually able to do my first full bridge within weeks of starting (see picture above - yes, that girl in the ratty shirt and blue jogging pants is me).

I promised myself I'd continue doing it even after the boards were over, but Real Life, as always, interfered with my good intentions. I sporadically attended classes here and there over the years - which doesn't count for much, even if it's true that your body remembers.

Body Balance is not quite as intense as yoga, but it is yoga based. This is the first time I've actually been able to do it regularly. I've been going to class two to three times a week for about three months now, and I can really see the difference it's made in my posture and my flexibility. I'm far from being capable of twisting myself into a human pretzel, but I've definitely improved a lot from baseline. And, yes, I am actually doing those back bends again!

I'm thinking of trying out a real yoga class, to get a feel of what it's like and to see if it's something I want to pursue. If that doesn't pan out, I'm quite happy with Body Balance and I highly recommend it to anyone who's starting a fitness program. It may not burn as many calories as other cardio classes, but it's really great for the body.

Okay, I'm going to take advantage of this loose and limber feeling now, get a hot shower, change into my flannel jammies, and just melt into bed. Did I already mention how amazing the post-Body Balance work out haze feels? I admit it, I'm an addict.

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Smack in Mundania and Other Blah Blahs

I have a confession to make. The utterly barren landscape of my blog over the past few days cannot be accounted for the busyness of my Real Life. The fact that I've recently discovered that my parents and aunts and uncles have discovered my online sanctuary may be playing a bit of a part in it (sorry, guys, but it's true - knowing you read my blog sort of weirds me out)- but that's another story for another day.

On the contrary, for the first time in months I've been relatively free to do whatever I want with my down time without any obligations hanging over my head. My life here has settled into a routine - and I suppose that's where some of my current ennui stems from. But for some weird reason, I'm not scrambling to take advantage of this lull to explore or to do more at the moment.

So what have I been doing apart from going through my day-to-day routine? Catching up on my pulp fiction reading list, for one. Backing up my dying iPod's music files. Experimenting with making my own salad rolls. Spending entire days off (apart from going to the gym for a work out) just lying around and doing nothing. I haven't even felt like blogging!

You'd think that all this down time has given me more time for introspection and figuring out what to do with the rest of my life. But I have persevered and succeeded in avoiding that as well.

I still have no definite plans for the foreseeable future - a bit of a concern when I am going on month eleven of what was allegedly my one year "break." Thinking about the future just gives me a headache - so I've been choosing not to think about the future at all. I know, I know - wonderfully mature behavior. Obviously, I am currently embracing the identity of drifter after being a pathologic planner all of my life.

I really need to pull myself out of this pit of blahs I've suddenly fallen into and get my positive energy going again.
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Different Perspectives

One of the most interesting things about living so far away from home is living and working with people from completely different cultures. And with Australia being one of the most multi-cultural countries in the world, it's not hard to imagine how even my relatively limited circle of acquaintances is like a casting call for a United Colors of Benetton ad.

It's been an interesting experience.

Even the small hospital I work with is a virtual melting pot of cultures - with patients and medical staff literally coming from all over the world. As a case in point, in just my current medical team, our big boss is originally from England, one of our rotating consultants is from the Middle East, one is from Scotland. On the junior medical staff, two are from Sri Lanka, one is from India, one from Eastern Europe, and then there's the dyed-in-the-wool conservative Pinay - me!

I don't even have to stray from home to have an intelligent multi-cultural exchange - because I currently share a house with someone from Holland and another who is a genuine Aussie. This diverse mix of people has made for many interesting conversations - and has been quite an education in itself.

I guess I've always known in theory how race and culture shape who we are; but it's still an eye-opener when ideas are exchanged and I see the differences between us in a more concrete way. The food we eat, the way we think about ourselves, our jobs, the world, literally the way we approach life is under the influence of where we come from and how we have been raised.

Living and working with such a diverse group of people, it's inevitable for some ideas to clash every now and then. Negotiating the multicultural minefield can be a bit tricky. As a shallow example, something as simple as what to bring to a potluck lunch becomes a challenge when you have to consider that in the group you're feeding, some can't eat beef and some can't eat pork or anything not halal. In the context of the hospital, it's not difficult to imagine how carefully one must tread when dealing with complex issues like patient care and end-of-life scenarios.

I'm fast coming to learn that to navigate this kind of environment one needs a good dose of sensitivity. It also helps to have a tolerant nature and a sense of humor about the misconceptions and misguided notions others may have about you, your culture, and your race. But for me, the most important lesson of all is cultivating my willingness to learn from what is other and realizing that I am all the richer from being around people who are so different from me and what I have been used to all my life.

But apart from literally having my world opened up by all these new perspectives, what I find even more amazing is how much all of us actually have in common - in what we all value, what we dream, and what we love. It serves to remind me of what I often forget - that all of us are all part of the big, wonderful family called the human race sharing this little island in the Universe called Planet Earth.

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Boy Toy

This is Vincent - two going on three and charming as anything. Every time we are together, he makes it a point to go through my handbag and demands I give him a blow-by-blow commentary about every single thing in it. He isn't quite capable of coherent three-word sentences and can't quite pronounce my name yet, but we have managed to bond over his Megablocks and my Palm Pilot's Insaniquarium game.

And, right now, he's the closest thing I have to a steady date.

In an ironic twist of fate, it seems that my karma of being the odd single out has followed me here. I've been adopted by an awesome group of Pinoy friends, all in my general age group, great company, and who really look out for me despite my being a complete stranger to them in the beginning - and, believe me, I know just how blessed I am to have that. The only catch is - they're all paired up, three married couples - and one kid.

At the moment, I have a bit of a reprieve as another new friend has flown down from Manila recently and joined our growing circle. But her husband is coming in late November to join her - before the group sets off for some summer traveling.

Leaving me, of course, with the little charmer as my partner.

I've already asked his mother if they have any objections to betrothing him to me and allowing me to marry him once he is of age. It's more than a 20 year difference, but what's a few years in the face of true love? His parents have agreed, tongue-in-cheek, provided that I take care of all his academic expenses from Year 1 to college. The only downside is, by the time he's ready to marry me, he may already be really preparing to take care of me in my old age.

Hmmm, maybe I should offer to adopt him instead.

In the meantime, I will brush up on my three-year-old-speak, install more easy games on my Palm Pilot, and make sure I have interesting things and treats inside my purse. I may not have been born with the skill to catch the eye of grown guys - but I'm fairly sure I can keep my latest love interested in his grown up playmate!

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Coming into Her Own

video by carine23

It's strange how things sometimes conspire to remind me of certain life lessons that I still need learning - all within the same week.

It all began with this blog entry by my blog buddy and romance guru, Evil Woobie.

Having written about singlehood on and off over the past few months - mainly because it's one of the circumstances that tilted the scales towards taking this particular life adventure I am currently on - I couldn't resist posting a comment to her post in reply.

it’s a cliche that everything happens for a reason, but i believe it - and that all the events in my life so far have led me to where i am today… a happy place to be. :)

i am so happy i had the chance to do this on-my-own thing and discover that i can be this person - strong, independent, and ready to take on anything. achievements aside, looks aside, and relationship-status aside, i know i’ll always have that under my belt and it is an accomplishment i will always be proud of. :)

I don't think that I've sounded as well-adjusted as that in a long time. (My long-time friends might even attest that I've probably NEVER sounded that well-adjusted, as I have always lived with the cloud of my myriad neuroses hanging over my head.)

But while I am certainly in a good place at the moment, there are days when it doesn't take a lot to propel me outside my happy place. It's probably because I've been so used to being so down on myself for so long that actually feeling good about me takes a lot of getting used to. And sometimes I have to fight quite hard to keep the negative voices from drowning out my inner cheerleader in training. Specially when the snarky comments come from important people in my life who sometimes say things that chip away at me simply because they don't know any better.

In keeping with my current lesson plan, I had such a moment just a few days after my enlightened comment on Woobie's blog.

For a fleeting moment, I felt like I was tumbling into the same old self-destructive pattern I've gotten used to for years - defensiveness and defiance. But, in a surprising victory for my inner cheerleader, I suddenly realized that what these people said didn't matter.

Because, for the first time in a long time, I actually feel dang good about me.

I'm brave. I'm strong. Life stretches out before me that's still filled with all sorts of possibility. And I kick ass.

And no one can ever take that feeling away from me but me.

Lots of people grow up knowing this simple truth - but what can I say? I'm a very slow learner.

It's high time I let my inner cheerleader come into her own - and give her room to dance.

* * * *

Post Script: This song is currently on tops on my "Girl Power" list at the moment. I love it because it has such a positive and powerful message. And it's also very true. I was looking for the original music video to embed on this post, but I think this slideshow I found on YouTube pretty much does the trick.

Don’t Need You To (Tell Me I’m Pretty)
Samantha Mumba

I don't need you to
Tell me I'm pretty to make me feel beautiful
I don't need you to
give me your strength
To make me feel I'm strong

I got all of this strength that I need
here inside my own two hands
All that I want is your love and respect for who I am
What I really need comes from deep inside of me

Don't need you to tell me I'm pretty to make me feel beautiful, no
Don't need you to make me strong, cause I’m strong all on my own
Doesn't come from outside
This beauty I know
Comes from inside my soul

I don't need you to
believe in me to make me know I'm worth believing in
I don't need you to
lift me up high to know I can stand tall

I can stand my own ground, I can stand proud upon my own two feet
Don't have to be part of somebody else to be complete
What I really need
Comes from deep inside of me

Don't need you to tell me I'm pretty to make me feel beautiful, no
Don't need you to make me strong, cause I’m strong all on my own
Doesn't come from outside
This beauty I know
Comes from inside my soul

Don't need to come to you for confirmation
Because I finally found this revelation
What I really need I’m gonna find inside of me
Not in somebody else
Respect, comes when you respect yourself

Don't need you to tell me I’m pretty
To know I’m beautiful

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To Someone Who Will Never Read This

I know we never got around to talking about it, but I have a checklist.

I've had it since I was a little girl, when once-upon-a-time everything was non-negotiable and I knew with naive certainty that the paragon described on my checklist actually existed. As I grew older and more grounded in reality, I took many of the things off the non-negotiable column and put them on my superficial checklist.

Of course when I met you, I didn't know you'd score so well - on both columns. And to be honest, I wasn't really thinking about those things at the time - upheaval isn't always the best time to think about things like that. But then you were there. And it's hard not to discover someone when you're around each other all the time. In fact, it's all too easy.

You made me laugh and kept me on my toes. We had a lot of common interests. Despite your unfailing sarcasm and contrariness, you couldn't quite hide the kindness under the surface. It was fairly obvious that I enjoyed your company. And, soon enough, being with you became a highlight of my otherwise mundane day. I sorely needed a friend, and you were there - albeit reluctantly.

You were interesting - and I, being only human and maybe a little lonely, began being interested. But, by the time I realized it, I didn't know how to let you know. In keeping with the pattern of my life, I just got sort of stuck. It's so hard not to fall into old patterns when you've been working them so long.

And before I could work my way out of my rut, you had gone. And I was still stuck.

I wonder sometimes why Fate throws the right people our way at the wrongest possible time. I know that in some way I handled it wrong. I also know that if you had been interested, things wouldn't have turned out this way. I guess part of it is also because you don't give yourself enough credit that I could be interested in "keeping" you - as a friend or otherwise - because of you, and not because I don't have anyone else.

Then again, maybe a transient passer-by in my life is all you were intended to be. Maybe to let me know that my naive belief that there is someone out there with most of the qualities I'm asking for actually exists. Maybe you were there simply because Fate knew that you were what I needed at the time - and that was all you were meant to be.

Still I wish things could have turned out differently - because I do miss you.

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Back from the Tag Grave

Due to my status as an adjusting ex-pat, my blog life hasn't been quite as active as it's been. I am touched and gratified that people (Manggy in particular!) continue to visit and comment despite my being so delinquent. As a way of saying thanks, I'm playing a bit of tag with some of you - using something I've blatantly tagged myself from Abaniko's site.

The tag: Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given. Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know each of them a little bit better.

Family.

Friends.

Myself.

Love.

Anything.

I tag Panaderos, Ris, Em Dy, Woobie, and Ness for this one.

Okay, now back to regular ex-pat-Pinay-doctor-adjusting-to-life-abroad programming! :)

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On Flying Solo

Breakwaters at Cottesloe Beach

I hit my 2 month mark abroad this week, and it's beginning to sink in that this is not a mere vacation ending in a few more weeks but my "real life." As I settle into the routine, sometimes I wonder if by coming here in a bid for change and real independence, I got more "on my own" time than I've actually bargained for.

So far, I've been quite happy to explore my new territory alone, inspired by the beautiful locale and being somewhere completely foreign. I've always been used to doing things on my own and am capable of being quite happy with my own company. Still, I think that I may have reached the limits of my solitude. I am now yearning for the company of the motley crew that populated my life back home more, and it's also sinking in that they are, in geographic terms, completely out of reach - at least for the time being.

Don't get me wrong, it's been a great experience so far. Some people will say it's too early to tell, but I can say with conviction that the decision to come has been a good one. It's shoved me out of my comfort zone and has forced me to come out of my shell by necessity. It's teaching me a lot - about being self-sufficient, not taking myself too seriously, being open to and making the most of new experiences, reaching out and letting new people into my life.

Yes, I have already begun meeting people here and sowing seeds of friendships that will hopefully grow with time. To be honest, I am still quite amazed at how kind people can be to someone struggling to get her bearings in this unfamiliar place full of strangers. I've been pretty lucky in the people I've met here so far.

But I guess I just miss being around people with whom I have a shared history. Being able to hang around with people who know the inside joke without my having to say a word. Even if we all had our busy lives at home, I always know with conviction I could drag any of them out for coffee and a heart-to-heart if I sounded desperate enough.

Part of realizing that this is now where I live rather than somewhere I am just visiting is also realizing that I don't really have anyone here like that. At all.

And sometimes I'm afraid that in my bid for a drastic change in my life and some real independence, I've just traded one kind of loneliness for another.
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Blue Monday

those i'm friend-sick for

People warned me it would catch me unawares. And just like that, it did.

I've had a bad day at the hospital today. I can't go on a comfort shopping spree because there's nowhere open after five. I can't watch a movie because I don't have a car and it's not a great idea to commute at night. I can't even drown myself in ice cream because I missed the last open grocery - which closes at six.

But most of all, it's hit me that there is no one here I can just ask over to whine to... to have some retail therapy with (besides, the shops are all closed!) or have a soothing coffee with or get wasted with. No one to gripe with about the unfairness of life over lunch or dinner. No one to make unsubstantiated and totally unlikely scenarios of vindication with.

I've been in constant communication with my parents - and that had helped a lot - but there are many things about my job that my non-doctor parents will never understand, and bad days at work are among them. Besides, I'd never try to get wasted with my Mom - got to keep up appearances, after all.

My other workmates try to be supportive, but it's early days yet. Nowhere near "Let's-get-drunk-so-all-this-can-go-away" or the "let's-shop-and-comfort-ourselves-with-the-joys-of-materialism" just yet.

I miss my batchmates. And just like that, I suddenly miss home.

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Party 101!

Hey, folks, there's a party in my Middle of Nowhere!

No, not because it's my birthday (that's still a few days away and another celebration altogether). It's because my blog has passed its 100th post mark - this is my 101st post. Welcome to Party Central 101!

I can't mark my blog's existence in years because you can see from the archive list that it's been around since 2005 - so technically it's over 3 years old. But I wanted a blog milestone to celebrate since I really just started blogging 6 months ago. Hence this big hullabaloo for reaching post number 100.

I initially started this blog to be a repository of random thoughts and gripes - and also as a means to practice my rusty writing skills. However, since I really got into blogging, this blog has evolved into a place to meet people of differing opinions and a place where I have learned much over these past few months. I've been having so much fun! Even if I've been confined to my very little corner of the blogosphere, it's been a really great place to be.

It's pretty obvious to regular visitors - (wowee, I still can't wrap my head around the concept of regular visitors I've never actually met!) - that this blog is still suffering from serious blogizophrenia. Personal diary one moment, travel blog the next - my thoughts bounce off the walls of this pinball mind of mine and posts come from all over the place. I am, as one of my new on-line friends, Linc, puts it - blogging in the "me niche."

However, despite my blog's needing a serious dose of direction, there are still people who come - and stay! So I'd like to thank everyone who reads my posts and engages me in a conversation every now and then. It's great to know that I'm not all alone my middle of nowhere in the blogosphere! I'm even more amazed to realize that while I started doing this to keep in touch with my friends, I've actually ended up making new ones through this blog - and that's really double the blessing.

So I'd like to give some (link) love to the people who have taken the time to regularly read and comment on my posts, to tag and be tagged back, to link and react, and who have become an informal circle of friends for me on-line - Manggy, Em Dy, Ris, Woobie, Panaderos, Mari, Ness, Joey, Marj, Megamom, Vanessa, all my fellow doctors from The Blog Rounds, and everyone who has ever made a comment that I haven't enumerated here. Thank you so much for your visits - and I look forward to having you guys around for the next 100 posts!

Oh, yeah... I'm not really sure what this means since I haven't really thought seriously about monetizing this site, but there is one additional thing to celebrate about aside from this being party 101 central.

Would you believe it? For a blog that started out as a means to find my way out of my quarter-life conundrum, that's not so bad at all. :)

So pull a chair, have a slice of cake, and blow out the candles with your hopelessly lost but happy hostess. The champagne is free flowing, and so is the beer - and whatever poison you may want to overload on. It's time to party!
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The Great Beefcake Festival (a.k.a. Why Women should give "300" a Chance)

I happened to unearth my DVD copy of 300 last night, and, because I had nothing better to do, I decided to watch this hard-core guy movie again for the third time (or is it the fourth?).

Hard to believe, as I was the lone voice of dissent when two of my best girl friends picked this to be our detox movie of the week when it first came out last year. From the reviews I'd heard, I knew that with its requisite blood, gore, and body count - it was eons away from my usual fare of neuroses-inducing romantic comedies or intelligent thrillers. I was completely befuddled by my friends' vehemence to see it, but so outvoted, I let them usher me into the theater like a lamb to slaughter.

And actually found myself glad that I did. But not just for the reasons you might think.

300 is a film adaptation of a graphic novel of the same title by Frank Miller starring Gerard Butler as the warrior-king Leonidas. It is based loosely on the Battle of Thermopylae, where 300 Spartan soldiers held off the might of a much larger Persian army coming to conquer the Greek nations. The outcome of this lopsided battle is a foregone conclusion, but the Spartan warriors' valor in this battle takes the fight out of the Persians, who eventually give up their plans of conquest.

Fearing this would be another incarnation of Gladiator, I was pleasantly surprised to find the movie had a completely different feel. The surreal rendering, done to stay as true as possible to the imagery of the graphic novel, made the violent battle scenes less gory and more palatable. There wasn't much room for three dimensional character development but the movie never made that promise from the start.

Besides, who really needed character development when there is so much eye candy to go around?

And the man-candy is definitely one good reason for why any living, breathing female should watch this film. Which, I discovered during our post-movie powwow, was my movie buddies' ulterior motive to begin with. (But they insist to this day that the story was still the primary draw - yeah, right.)

It was a veritable feast for the eyes. The actors playing Spartan warriors were one and all flaunting six-packs and well-defined chests and legs - because for reasons I cannot begin to fathom, all their fighting uniform consists of is a helmet, a cape, sandals and shin guards, and a leather codpiece. Great way for medical students to study the anatomy of the musculoskeletal system, I must say. Hurray for minimalism!

Don't get me wrong, being a fairly intelligent person, I didn't miss the point - you know, the one about courage against overwhelming odds, never surrendering, and so on. In fact, I even enjoyed the storytelling. The beefcake parade was a nice bonus, that's all I'm saying.

I don't know if there is a guy in existence who hasn't seen this uber macho flick, but for them, it's the blood and gore and super battle scences that make it worth the cost of the DVD.

But for the women out there who scratched this movie off their list when it first came out, I highly recommend taking it for a spin. Because, as my friend V bluntly puts it, "Sa dami ng mainit pandesal, kulang na lang ang palaman." ("With all the hot buns available, all one needs is the butter.")

Okay, enough said. :)

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