2 Days in Paris

2 Days in Paris is a 2007 film written and directed by Julie Delpy of Before Sunrise and Before Sunset fame. It tells the story of Marion and Jack, a thirtysomething couple played by Delpy and Adam Goldberg (you might remember him as the primary bankroller of the movie Medellin in Entourage). Jack, a heavily-tattooed American interior designer, and Marion, a French photographer who has a history of mental disorder, decide to spend two days in Paris with Marion’s equally dysfunctional family after a not-so-memorable vacation in Venice. Once there, it doesn’t take too long before Jack discovers Marion’s colorful and prolific sexual history, a discovery which eventually leads to jealousy and paranoia. The ensuing cornucopia of negative feelings, unfortunate coincidences and misunderstandings, and the host of sickeningly perverse French men from Marion’s past and present threatens to destroy the couple’s already-precarious two-year relationship

I loved the film. It was funny when it needed to be funny. Goldberg’s humor was there, of course. The French characters were hilarious! I’m pretty sure that at some level everything’s exaggerated, but in the movie all the French thought about was sex and flirting seemed to be the national pastime. In one scene, this was how Marion described to Jack a Frenchman they bumped into: “We met many years ago and we had a little thing. I think I gave him a blowjob. No big deal.”

Julie Delpy was great. If you’ve seen Before Sunrise and/or Before Sunset, you know what I’m talking about. If you’re twentysomething and you still believe all that cheesy crap they say about love and romance, go watch Before Sunrise. After a few years, when all your unrealistic notions about love and relationships have been completely washed away by the passing of time, watch Before Sunset. I’m sure you’ll love both films and you’ll definitely adore Julie Delpy.

Another reason why I love this film so much is that it is able to portray mature romantic relationships realistically; it is able to eloquently articulate ideas and notions about relationships that the even the best of us have a hard time understanding by ourselves. Here are some of the more thought-provoking lines I have painstakingly transcribed from the film, as narrated by Julie Delpy’s character Marion near the end when the shit was just about to hit the fan:

“I confessed to Jack that the toughest thing for me was to decide to be with someone for good. The idea that this is it, this is the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with, to decide that I will make the effort to stay and work things out and not run off the minute there is a problem is very difficult for me.”

“It always fascinates me how people go from loving you madly to nothing at all. Nothing.”

“Here it is. One more, one less. Another wasted love story. I really loved this one. When I think that it’s over, that I’ll never see him again like this. Well yes, I’ll bump into him, we’ll meet our new boyfriend and girlfriend, act as if we have never been together. Then we’ll slowly think of each other less and less, until we forget each other completely. Almost. Always the same for me: break up, break down; drink up, fool around; meet one guy then another, fuck around to forget the one and only. Then after a few months of total emptiness start again to look for true love; desperately look everywhere and after two years of loneliness, meet a new love and swear it is the one. Until that one is gone as well.“

This last one almost perfectly captures what’s been going on in my life these past few years. I really don’t know what else to say after this.

It’s a great film. Go watch it.

Turning Thirty-two

Two years ago, in the months leading to my thirtieth birthday, I have constantly pestered my friends with my apprehensions and complaints about my age. I felt old and a bit depressed: I was turning thirty, and I felt like I had nothing to show for it. Well, I’m now just a few hours away from thirty-two: I’m still dirt-poor and single, but far from wallowing in dejection and misery, I now feel nothing but excitement and have nothing but optimism for what lies ahead.

This past year has probably been the most eventful in my life. I was able to do and experience things, visit beautiful places, and meet unforgettable people, all for the first time. It’s like having a “bucket list” of things to do before one dies, without the dying part; like being Jim Carrey’s character in “Yes Man”, without the slapstick comedy part.

Of course the ride had not been perfectly smooth; I had to do things that needed doing and unavoidably hurt some people and burn a few bridges along the way. But I don’t regret any of the things I've done. I guess part of the growing up that happened this past year is realizing that, ultimately, I am the only person who should be responsible for my actions and myself, selfish as it may seem. That I should do things that result only in my well-being, without a shred of selflessness or altruism; and yes, even at the risk of other people and some of my friends calling me an asshole for living this ideology.

Now that I’m about to turn thirty-two, I feel like I’m in some sort of personal and emotional equilibrium, a fancy term for saying that while I’m not perfectly happy, I am very much contented. I am thankful for the few material things that I have, and cherish the select people who are important to me; life is too short and time is too scarce to waste even a few moments on negative emotions and people who seem to inexhaustibly radiate negativity. I can’t wait to see how the seeds that I’ve planted this past year will bear fruit (not that kind of seed) and witness how it will all unfold.

Who Watches the Watchmen? (Spoiler Alert!)

Like I usually do whenever a highly-reputed literary work is to be turned into a movie, I bought (and immediately read) a copy of the Watchmen graphic novel a few months back. I saw the film earlier today. As expected, there were discrepancies between the graphic novel and the movie, borne both out of the inherent limitations of film as a medium and the artistic leeway filmmakers bestow upon themselves. Almost all of the novel’s numerous sub-plots (Hollis’ “Under the Hood”, the newsstand vendor and the black kid, the collection of artists and scientists ala “Atlas Shrugged”, etc.) that were only indirectly tied to the main storyline were omitted in the film version, and several “trivial” inconsistencies were evident throughout the film (Rorschach and Nite Owl traveling to Veidt’s Antarctic base on foot; the missing big, badass motherfucker of a monster). But the whole plot is there, stretched across three hours of film; and moviegoers, especially those who have read the novel, will see the film makers’ efforts to stay true to the original material (note the homage to the newsstand vendor and the black kid when the New York bomb detonated).

Is Watchmen for everyone? Well, the graphic novel definitely isn’t. Some friends I’ve lent the book to were overwhelmed by either the enormity of the story or the complexity of the plot. But give the novel a shot and you’ll see that a significant portion of the pleasure in reading it will come from the sub-plots, these seemingly inconsequential narratives that lend color, life, and substance to both the characters and the story itself. At first glance, these details will seem unimportant; but as Alan Moore’s intricate web starts to unravel, the realization that each small part is related to every other in ways both subtle and brilliant will ultimately leave you breathless. As for the movie… Purists will definitely hate it (they always do), most of those who haven’t read the novel will not get it, and conservatives will be turned off by the excessive gore Zack Snyder is known for.

I personally liked the film, in general. But I do have a few gripes about my movie-watching experience earlier.

1. It is my humble opinion that the local movie industry, or this country for that matter, will never ever prosper as long as higher ups treat us like frigging children. I mean, come on! You’ll show a disintegrating body in all its bloody splendor and then you’ll cut portions of a love scene between two lead characters? Who the fuck are you kidding? Well, it’s probably the fault of the local distributors (sellout fucks), but that’s not the point, is it?

2. Again about this crap we call the local movie industry. What’s up with those grainy and dirty film negatives these mall theaters keep shoving down the throats of their patrons? It’s not like they’re one of those fly-by-night provincial movie houses which show local “R” rated films “double with” unknown foreign B-movies. I paid 175 pesos to see the film in your theater (I’m talking to you, Eastwood Cinema), and I expect to get my money’s worth, film-quality wise. How can you expect us to stop patronizing pirated films (which reportedly now cost a measly 10 pesos per film in Divisoria) when you keep giving us crap? Assholes.

3. In the film, Adrian Veidt looks eerily like David Spade, hair, nose, build and all, which is so unlike his masculine, Aryan-looking counterpart in the graphic novel. At one point in the movie, I almost expected badass Veidt to deliver a stand-up routine. Now that would’ve been definitely worth watching.

Have a nice day!

Heads or Tails

At the risk of sounding like a Haruki Murakami fanboy, I would like to announce that I had just eaten the 100% perfect Spicy Oriental Spareribs. Actually, it fell just a tad short of perfect because it was bit too salty and the cut of the meat just wasn’t quite right. Nevertheless, despite its shortcomings, I still think that it’s the 100% perfect Spicy Oriental Spareribs—mainly because I cooked it myself.

As men, we take so much pride in creating things: wondrous, beautiful—and in this instance, passably edible—things. Giving life to something, from conceptualization to realization, from something as trivial as Spicy Oriental Spareribs to something as complex as Ratatouille, is perhaps the closest we can ever get to godhood. The desire to create, the impulse to fashion something meaningful out of virtually nothing, is what separates us from other forms of life; it’s what makes us what, or who, we are.

Unfortunately, we also take so much pleasure in destroying things. No other species on earth can destroy and kill as efficiently as we can. And it’s not even a simple retribution thing: it’s not like we only smother and smite our enemies and obliterate only those who have hurt us. What’s peculiar about our insane passion for utter destruction is that we often don’t care who our unwitting victims are—we still do what we do even at the risk of hurting the innocent, or worse, the ones we love.

What’s so beautiful about it is that this concept of man’s dual nature—creator and destroyer as two sides of the same ugly coin—is totally consistent with man’s concept of God and of himself as God’s poor surrogate; you know, “He giveth, so he can taketh away.” Or some shit like that.

So what the point? The point is that sometimes we feel a nagging urge to create something, anything, like this blog entry for example. And almost always, as soon as we are done, we feel an equally strong desire to click “delete.”

New Year 2009 Road Trip - Day 4

In my effort to catch up with Hap’s ridiculously fast writing, I forgot to mention a few things about our first night in Baguio…

First: It’s all about the music, man. Jane had a 160GB WD Passport which I shamelessly tinkered with as soon as I was able to setup our “music station” (my Asus EEE and X-Minimax speakers and Jane’s Passport). She had old favorites from the 90’s which rivaled even my collection (I was able to complete my Nirvana and Pearl Jam collection, thanks to her), a few classic rock tunes (Led Zep and Rolling Stones), and – much to everyone’s surprise and amusement – timeless Disney songs (“shining, shimmering, splendid” was the first track we played from that collection) and contemporary greats from Sarah Geronimo to Ne-Yo (she continuously denies that these tracks are hers, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it?). From time to time, I also got to play tunes from my 8GB Sansa Clip whenever I felt a craving for Urbandub or Taken By Cars, or whenever I felt the urge to show off my Across the Universe soundtrack to Jane.

Second: It’s also about the food, man. We did not have much, but we did have bagnet and Happy peanuts for pulutan (Mae had Gardenia to go with her Coke), so what else could you ask for?

Okay, so pretty much everyone woke up past 12 PM the next day (that’s why I was not able to meet Nicole in the morning). Hap had several canned goods and onions left from our trip and Mae still had some leftover rice, so I cooked breakfast for everyone (corned beef with onions, tuna with onions, and fried rice with onions – who would’ve thought that we would still have one bulb of onion left over!) while everyone else cleaned up the previous night’s mess (a tip of the hat to Hap, who initiated the day’s cleaning proceedings).

After breakfast, everyone was too lazy to move; keep in mind, this was the first time Hap and I stayed in one place for more than 24 hours in the past few days. The next item in the agenda was to buy supplies like food and booze, and a few pasalubong, from the market. Even as we were driving to Bagiuo, Hap and I talked about having tinola at Mae’s; so when we broached the idea to the two ladies, they both enthusiastically agreed that we have tinola for dinner.

Our market trip turned out to be a bit sentimental for me: back in 2002 and 2003, when I frequently visited Baguio with other friends, we would always cap our trips with visits to the market. This trip reintroduced me to familiar smells and sights, to the disarming smiles of the locals and the frenetic calls of children hawking plastic shopping bags. We bought everything we needed for dinner, plus some strawberries and local sweets; Mae bought a new flat-bottom pan and casserole pot, inspired by anonymous tips from the “suggestion box”. After a few sticks of fishballs, kwek-kwek, and cigarettes, we headed home.

Back in Mae’s pad, everyone quickly became busy doing his or her thing: Hap prepared a quick broccoli appetizer and I took care of the tinola soon after; Jane and Mae prepared chocolate fondue with the strawberries. Dinner was set. Thankfully, everyone seemed to like the tinola.

Before we knew it, Mae had to go to work again. With the help of Antonov Vodka and Sprite, Hap, Jane, and I soon found ourselves in the middle of an eclectic range of conversation topics: God and religion, Einstein’s special and general theory of relativity and its shaky (at least according to me) underpinnings; Gaiman, Pratchett, Ateneo and some other topics that evidently were already discussed the night before which I had conveniently forgotten then and have completely forgotten now. When Mae came back from work at around 6 AM, the rest of us were already fast asleep.

For a not-so-sober take on this part of the trip, visit Hap's blog.

(Okay, if I try to write an account of what happened on the fifth and last day of the trip, I know I won't finish it until after our Sagada trip. I think it would be best if you just read Hap's version of what happened that day. Besides, a lot of things had already happened just ten days after this memorable road trip, things that will hopefully grow and bloom and flourish in the coming days, weeks, months, and even years, things that will definitely be topics for future entries. So until then, I wish everyone a bountiful and joyous 2009. Long days and pleasant nights ahead.)

New Year 2009 Road Trip - Day 3

Hap and I woke up at around 7 AM on New Year’s Day. We ate our free breakfast (gourmet “tuyo” for me) and headed out for the highly-reputed Maira-Ira beach, ugly clouds and searing winds notwithstanding. After walking a few kilometers westward, up to the stretch of beach in front of Hannah’s, I gave the turbulent Blue Lagoon waters the old college try (Hap took care of the pictures). I didn’t need to go very far before I felt the ankle-deep water transform into a brutal shoulder-high wave that, at first, pushed me harshly towards the shore and then, almost instantaneously and without warning, sucked me back into the angry waters. I was not even able to use my snorkeling gear; I was literally being pushed around by the wind and waves like a rag doll. Only when a wooden flotsam, complete with protruding rusty nail, hit my arm did I realize that I was unwelcome and that it was time for me to quit.

Hap and I headed back to Kapuluan and unceremoniously packed our things and headed back to where the sun did shine.

We made a brief stop to see the Cape Bojeador lighthouse, the one thing we missed when we were on our way to Pagudpud. We arrived in Laoag around lunchtime; we decided to eat at Dap-ayan ti Ilocos Norte, where the food was unremarkable but pleasantly cheap. After taking some pictures of the belltower of St. William’s Cathedral, we headed back for Vigan.

When we first passed Vigan on our way to Pagudpud, we weren’t able to spend much time soaking in the sights and culture of the historic city. The second time around, we made sure to spend enough time to chat and haggle with locals, and to buy bagnet and a few souvenirs. Still, we were pressed for time; we did not want to reach Baguio in the wee hours of the next morning. So as soon as our business in Vigan was done, we quickly headed off.

The trip from Vigan to San Fernando, La Union took a good chunk of 4 hours. During the whole trip, I took significant pains fighting off sleep, and fortunately succeeded. It was already past 6 PM when we reached San Fernando, and we decided to take a much needed break.

We finished our Jollibee dinner at around 7:30 PM and immediately headed for Baguio.

After much dilly-dallying and despite Hap’s apprehensions, we eventually decided to take Naguilian road. The hour-and-a-half ride was relatively and surprisingly smooth despite a) long, unlit stretches of the highway, b) drunken locals leisurely and dangerously strolling along (and sometimes even across) the road, and c) that crazy motherfucker who lit a loud firecracker the very moment we passed him.

We finally reached Baguio ten and a half hours after we left Kapuluan Vista Resort in Pagudpud. It took a few more moments to reach Mae’s pad.

(I hope it isn’t too obvious that I am desperately scrambling to reach this portion of our tale.)

Mae’s welcome was pleasingly warm amid the biting Baguio cold. Jane was there, too; she had been in the city since a few days after Christmas. At that time, I didn’t really know Mae and Jane very well: I had only met Mae in a couple of drinking sessions before, and I only got to talk to Jane once and only briefly ages ago in Conspiracy. Still, with all due respect to Hap, seeing the two after two whole days of seemingly endless travel felt like falling in the arms of long lost family (I can only imagine how Hap felt since he had been the only one driving). So what else were we to do but drown our weariness in booze and conversation?

Mae, unfortunately, had to go to work at 10 PM, so Hap, Jane and I were left to keep each other company. Talk was casual and light, the alcohol was flowing freely (beer, Tanduay lapad, Johnny Walker Black, Tequila Rose, and the oft-maligned Piikit rice wine), and the three of were just having a grand time. At around 2 AM we picked Mae up for her lunch break. While she was unable to partake of the drinks (because she still had to go back to work), Mae still was able to join the fun, either by dunking slices of Gardenia bread in Coke, or by showing us her inane Ilonggo videos (of her dad and some other relatives, and of the Ilonggo version of “300”). That night was quickly turning out to be the highlight of the trip for me.

Mae went back to work, and the night (rather, early morning) wore on. We just continued to laugh, and drink, and be happy – even when Hap started dozing off in the chair, until he eventually decided to sleep in one of Mae’s beds, even when it was just Jane and I talking about anything and everything we could talk about, even as Mae came back home from work and we realized that the sun had already risen and it was time for us to sleep.

For a not-so-sober take on this part of the trip, visit Hap's blog.

Today's Horoscope

From my iGoogle horoscope:

"Venus the Lover is styling in your sign now, adding sweetness and grace to your life. But today's supportive sextile from Pluto the Dark Lord can offer up sensual delights from the shadowy recesses of your subconscious mind. Not all beauty is simple and you have the opportunity to experience a more complicated form of pleasure now."

Does this mean what I think it means????

New Year 2009 Road Trip - Day 2

At 7:30 in the morning on December 31, Hap and I left San Juan and embarked on a seven-hour drive to Pagudpud. We had lunch in Vigan and sampled Cafe Leona's version of Ilocandia specialties. We also made a brief stop in Burgos to take snapshots of the windmills that the area is known for.

We arrived in Saud Beach in Pagudpud town at around 4:30 in the afternoon. We originally planned to stay in one of the resorts in Saud and just visit Maira-Ira or "Blue Lagoon" the next morning, but when we found out that there were resorts in Maira-Ira (contrary to RJ's advice), we decided to spend New Year's eve there.

The trip to Maira-Ira was not completely uneventful -- apart from totally useless directions from Lonely Planet (WTF does "a few points East" mean???), we only had a rough map from one Saud resort to rely on. Fortunately, a few friendly locals were able to steer us to the right direction. We finally reached the Blue Lagoon beach stretch at 5:00 PM; by then, dark clouds had already started to cover the landscape.

There are two note-worthy resorts in Maira-Ira. The first one we encountered coming from the area’s entry point is Hannah's, an enclosed strip of land right in front of the "swimmer-friendly” portion of the beach. When we asked for a room, an "ate" offered us one for 3,500 pesos, which turns out to be its cheapest. Since this clearly was beyond our budget, we said no-thanks and started to head for Kapuluan Vista Resort, which was around 700 meters to the east of Hannah's. Upon reaching the resort, the first thing I noticed was the stark difference between Kapuluan and Hannah's: whereas the latter exuded a very artificial and suburban feel, Kapuluan's crisp rural architecture and earthy tones blended perfectly with the majestic natural landscape of Maira-Ira. I asked for a room, and all that's available was a two-person dorm-type room which costs 500 pesos per head; the relatively affordable price and the rich ambience the resort offered made checking-in a no-brainer.

By this time a steady downpour of rain had already started to intermingle with the merciless winds that Pagudpud is famous for. This dangerous cocktail made it impossible to spend even a few moments at the beach, or in any open space for that matter; so Hap and I decided to just hang out at the restaurant and try to get a few things done before dinner. After a few rounds of beer, dinner was served.

The restaurant was apparently quite an attraction in the area; a reputation that is, IMHO, very much deserved. The buffet dinner consisted of three kinds of spaghetti dishes and grilled chicken breast. After dinner, Hap and I proceeded to down the Johnny Walker Black Label bottle we brought with us and wait for the clock to strike 12.

In the last few minutes leading to the New Year, we mingled with some of the locals, the owners of Kapuluan Vista, Mike and Alma, and a few other guests. Fireworks were lit, hands were shaken, smiles and greetings were exchanged. Before we knew it, it was 2009 and we were in the northernmost tip of mainland Luzon and some 500-odd kilometers away from home.