Condo craze.

A day in a mall would not be complete without being handed a flyer or brochure of a condo, townhouse or house and lot being developed and sold.

Sometimes, I accept them, most of the time I ignore them,

other times, I simply veer away from the representative.

But there would be days when upon reaching home, I'd discover the brochures tucked in my pant pockets, in shopping bags, or inside my security bag.

ABOVE RIGHT, Ace Water Spa.

Yesterday, cousins Kell and Louie treated a group of us to a day at a spa called ACE Water Spa. There, we got pampered and "cured" by hydro therapy massage - a variety of water system concoctions, where customers choose from a variety of "water massage," and steam and herbal pools. It was a relaxing and fun way to spend a rainy day.

"Hydrotherapy massage - is a kind of therapeutic massage that utilizes “Ultrasonic Jet System” that massages specific areas of the body with its aquatic jets strategically located to relax and soothe tired and aching muscles. This treatment is best done in heated water.

These one push-of-a-button equipments are categorized as soft, moderate and hard massages. Because of these, the customers are assured of the same consistent experience, unlike manual hand massages wherein every visit may be a different experience due to different factors. For example, a masseuse that offers hard massages may not be as strong as before because he is already tired.

Moreover, the massage systems, being “do-it-yourself” type, gives the customer the freedom to decide which water equipment to use and which part of his body needs more attention."

After partaking of complimentary hot corn soup at the Spa, we headed to Kell and Louie's condo and had dinner but ended issuing a rain check on a plan to go dancing later that evening.

After partaking of complimentary hot corn soup at the Spa, we headed to Kell and Louie's condo and issued a rain check on an earlier plan to go dancing.

Instead, we spent the rest of the evening discussing local and domestic issues, and talking about condominiums.

Kell and Louie own several condominium units which they maintain as investment eggs. They visit and sleep in any of them whenever they find time out from their super busy schedule.

After a scrumptious dinner of brown rice, "daing na bangus," fresh, red tomatoes, and egg omelet, the generous duo brought us to do some condo shopping.

Apparently, one nephew was selling his Unit in the same building.

We hied to the highest floor overlooking QC where the giant pool was located, and enjoyed a crisp, cool night talking about nothing.

Then we met up with the Manager who showed us more units for sale. One good Unit, a 31- sq.m floor plan, had several windows and a good view of the frontage, but upon closer look, didn't appeal to me because it had several low beams and an obtrusive post which makes the room smaller and crowded.

I asked to see a Loft and was quite comfortable with its size, a 50+ Unit, with two bathrooms and a view of the pool, but got floored by the price - 4+ million Philippine pesos. There was a good looking furnished Model, about 31 sq. m. but it was an interior unit, meaning no outside view; directly across is another unit.

There were other units presented to us, in the range of 30's square metres and priced at 2.4 plus million pesos.

After digesting rates of interest, down payments, and schemes of payments, we headed to Starbucks for a late night caffeine session, calling overseas relatives, and googling on the plant called "Ashitaba."

Cousin Bek who's in a Japanese marriage, regaled us with facts of the "curing

miracles" of Ashitaba. Apparently, it can cure diabetes, hypertension, and a host of other ailments. And alas, cousin Bek has a doctor for a neighbour who's given her the plant.

At almost twelve in the evening, we were crossing the stretch of Congressional Ave. Extension to get the plant Ashitaba.

It was almost one in the morning when we reached home. The neighbourhood was quiet. Except for us who were pounding on the iron gate. The gate was locked, our key became useless. The dogs were howling. The maid was not waking up.

Finally, we drove to the Main gate and asked the guards for help. We were led to the main security house where a patrol trailed us back home and after we assured him that the dogs were leashed, he climbed over the fence and opened the gate for us.

After a soothing day at the herbal pool and a cosy evening of healthy food and talk, our night ended like some scene direct from a juvenile film - like teens out for a wild time, well beyond their curfew hours, sneaking back into the house, climbing over the fence.

Then I asked myself: when someone pays 2 million or 4 million pesos for a smallish condo unit, what are they really paying for? My quick answer: the concept of condo living. Which in the Philippines means, upscale living.

I have both been a private house resident in Manila and a condo dweller in Toronto for the last twenty years, so I don't mind scaling back, but the thought of getting cooped up in 30+ sq. m. quarters makes me even more claustrophobic than usual.

The Bliss of Not Working.

Over the last three years, I have had the pleasure of not doing regular work. In my first year of semi-retirement, I travelled all over Europe. Then in 2009, I went for an extended stay in my country of birth, the Philippines. In 2010, I travelled all over U.S., to places I've gone to before, but still, I totally enjoyed the experience, seeing these places with a new perspective.

In Manila, I am a true blue Pinoy - pampered with food and service and nothing domestic to do; I try dish washing from time to time, and cooking, the chore I miss most to do.

I try to do little home projects, but once these are done, I'm back to doing nothing - and back to regular "things," which a paid employee normally does - sitting in front of the computer and surfing for hours, reading, snacking, telephoning, and planning on activities for the coming days.

I've come to enjoy watching old Tagalog flicks over Cinema One, and over at Cinemax and HBO and at other 24-hour movie channels. At the mall, I've re-learned browsing at National Bookstore. I've re-focused on photography.

And again, I've donned my dancing shoes for regular nights of dancing.

I've totally forgotten about those "headaches," at the office where I worked last in Toronto. I've lost track of the people I've used to work with. I've embraced bliss and joy, and what a life it is!

I've totally enjoyed our long drives North and South, trips to the rural - kissing the sun and the greenery, the humming of the birds front and back of the house, my dog Shadee's power bark and naps, the mystery of early mornings, the idyllic quiet of afternoons, and the romantic jazziness of evenings.

Life is what you make it; work is only incidental. At the end of the day- you are who is standing TALL. The one who laughs, the one who cherishes it all, the one who shares the joy with your loved ones.

You're Cold.

Noynoy Aquino is in the same dilemma as Barack Obama. Both are smoking presidents.

Aquino, who is awaiting proclamation as President of the Philippines and the then newly elected U.S. President have been admonished by their constituents for smoking, even before their proclamation.

Barack shrugged off his critics and promised he would stay off nicotine, while Aquino seems to be getting pissed or "naiirita." There was even a news item which said Aquino won't quit.

Suddenly, everybody is on Noy's case. The Secretary of Health, Mrs. Cabral said Noynoy should quit; even WHO (World Health Organization) advised Aquino to stay off cigarette and said he should lead by example.

I can emphatize with Senator Aquino. Quitting smoking is the hardest thing to do.

I used to smoke at least two packs a day. My first brand was Marlboro, then I switched to Camel, then Newport. In Diliman where majority were smokers, I never lit a stick. It was when I was already employed that I picked up the habit, and it helped that two of my best friends were chain smokers.

So all day in the air conditioned office and evenings, in lounges, folk houses and disco joints, I was constantly lighting. Beer and after-dinner were so much better with a smoke.

I tried endless times to quit smoking. I knew it was an unhealthy habit and the hot Manila weather, the beer and my childhood asthma were getting the worst of me.

It was in New York weeks before the no smoking in offices law was passed that I finally decided to quit. But before this, I tried several times to stop. I would cut down on my daily consumption, or I would chew gum or not buy a pack but just smooched some from my office mates.

Finally, my boss challenged the smokers in the office, including herself, to quit. I took up the challenge and decided to do it cold turkey. That was in 1989, and to this day, I've never held a cigarette in my hand and touched it to my lip.

And since then, whenever I smell smoke, I would choke.

Cold turkey. That's the only way to do it.

Lavandera.

If you watch CNN regularly, you might have seen this big guy named "Ed Lavandera," who is one of CNN's field reporters. Obviously, he's Hispanic.

The word "lavandera," is Spanish for launderer; clothes launderer, in previous eras, but nowadays could also refer to money launderer.

Lavandera is a commonly used word among us Pinoys. Almost every household who does not have a regular maid would employ a clothes washer or a laundrywoman.

I remember growing up in a household with out a regular maid; what we had was a lavandera, plus an "ironing woman," and my two aunts who helped my mother with the day-to-day raising of seven kids plus one cousin.

If we had a maid, she was still aided by my two aunts who spoiled my mother.

When I first came home to the Philippines in 1994 after being away for nine years, I bunked in my mother's house for a while and their maid would wash my clothes. My mother knew I was finicky about my clothes, so she would personally wash my underwear instead of assigning it to the maid.

Being finicky about my clothes was not an original trait of mine. In the past, I could not care less if my clothes were assigned to a maid, handled by my mate or my mother. But years of living in the U.S. and in Canada where I did my own laundry had turned me into a "clean fanatic," not only in clothes but with everything else.

I want to do my own laundry; I want a spic n' span wash and bathroom; I want an immaculate kitchen and cooking range; a safe drinking water; a house rid of mosquitoes and cockroaches; a yard full of trees; and outside - streets free of litter and urine-smelling pavements.

The new old me is neurotic about cleanliness, and people around me could not understand it, they even brand me "insane."

I want the bedsheets fresh all the time, and the bathroom smelling of Lysol.

If a human "lavandera" or a maid does my laundry, I somehow feel that my privacy is being invaded. I want to make sure my shirts are not being pounded by the "palo palo" (wooden paddle) and that my whites are totally whitened. I want to know where they hide my underwear and socks in the closet.

I confess that I want my dirty clothes to be done by the machine; I prefer the "machine lavandera," or those commercially-run laundry business.

I once window-shopped for a U.S. -style washing machine and dryer but found the costs to be too prohibitive. Now I want to puke remembering that I dumped an almost brand new washer/dryer in the condo trash, because of one incident when water overflowed into the unit below; and I reverted to using the building's laundry facilities.

In the absence of maids, I do not understand why local people still prefer human "lavanderas," over machines. Personally, I think bringing one's dirty clothes to the neighbourhood machine "lavanderas," is more practical and hygienic.

You bag your clothes, drop it at the laundromat where they weigh it, and collect them after two days. Your clothes smell fresh and look ironed out.

I'll drink to that.

Eye bag.  Wrinkles.  Too many chins. Grey hair.

Signs of ageing.

Women of today don't want to see these on them, nor even hear about these.

That's why Vicky Belo and the likes are earning pools of money from people who want to rid themselves of the signs of ageing, and who want to capture the effervescent youth.

'Cant blame them, though.  Peoples of almost all societies treasure beauty and youth.  But in some societies, we sometimes don't agree with their definition of beauty.

I want old fashioned beauty.  If a woman is fair, good.  If a lady is brown-skinned, fine.  If the eyes are round and clear, great.  If the eyes are doe-eyed or a bit chinky, yes, still. 

If a woman cares to wear make up, sure.  If not, swell. 

If the girl has firm, round chest, who would complain?  If the girl has flattish upper front, but carries herself well, that's passable.

I mean, men are looking for beauty but also wanting to love more than just the physical. 

One can lose everything in an instant, beauty included.  A bag and cellphone could be snatched. Money can be swiped by burglars or first class con artists.  Boy/girlfriend can disappear tomorrow.  Beautiful faces can be marred by accident, disease and ageing.  

But wisdom, practicality, wit, sensibility, self awareness or knowledge, humour, irony, love for arts and books could not be taken away from someone.  They stay with you.

I admire women and men who are happy with who they are and what they've got.  Even the taho vendor who passes the house each morning and who never fails to say "thank you," to me each time I buy.  He's working hard and gracious.

Trespassers.

We want to have more dogs in the compound. Two more fierce giants to prowl the property. One sister owns three,another, five, and the girth of their necks and legs and drool of saliva are enough to send "peekers" away.

A dog is man's best friend; I believe so. For cat lovers this may be offensive.

Guard dogs are essential to ensure safety in one's home, in addition to alarms, human guards and traditional safety gadgets such as window grills, locks, "pambambo," etc.

If one can legally obtain a gun, that's swell, too.

It's been said that the man is King of his home; as such, he is expected to defend it fiercely and feverishly.

Trespassers and thieves are pests and criminals. They can be arrested, jailed, or worse, be killed (by dogs or by so called "village vigilantes)."

Abetting or aiding trespassers is a crime,too, and punishable by law.

Beware.

Sun, Glorious Hazard

It's ten thirty in the morning and the famous Manila sun is shining gloriously here in the outskirts of Manila. 

But even with the sun present almost throughout the day, I rarely see umbrellas borne by Filipinos nowadays. 

This sudden abandonment of the umbrella is surprising since the Pinoys are serious about the condition and health of their skin. I speak with the proliferation of skin clinics and products as evidence.

The ultra violet radiation, according to experts can cause skin cancer, photo ageing of the skin, and cataracts - just a few of the potential health hazards associated with overexposure to UVR.

My favorite individual has creamy skin and takes care of it lovingly, but when it comes to arming her skin against the ravenous sun, she couldn't care less, and I wonder about it incessantly. 

When I was growing up, I remember an older sister who used to carry an umbrella wherever she went, even to the sari-sari store across our house.  And to this day, she has perfect whitish skin.

My father too, used to protect his darkish features by wearing a hat. It was the kind I saw in those old  Rogelio de la Rosa and Humphrey Bogart black and white movies.  And I must admit my old man looked dapper in his de hilo shirt and pants and with a hat on.

Back in Toronto during summers, the ethnic group that still religiously carries umbrellas and wear wide-brim hats are the older Chinese women. The others simply ignore the hazards of the sun.  Or maybe they just apply sun block.  On the other hand, men, including myself, wear the ever present baseball cap. 

Another favorite person of mine has a collection of hats; she has winter hats, summer hats and hats that she wears on all occasions.  She's not so much concerned about her skin but it's because she looks good with a hat on. 

I, too, have a collection of hats - baseball caps, winter caps, and all- occasion hats.  My friend Olga used to call me Uncle Vanya and my colleague Bill referred to me once as Harrison Ford's character in the Raider's series.

Here in Manila what I notice and find odd are those men wearing a winter toque.  I just could not imagine how hot it must be under those toques.  Personally, I only wear a toque in Toronto if the temperature drops to a minus degree.

But I love seeing an umbrella anywhere - rainy and sunny days. It protects and saves lives, literally. 

Reminds me of old, e.g- The Barefoot Contessa, and even newer Hollywood films, such as Spiderman 1 where cemetery/burial scenes are always shot on a dreary afternoon amidst rain or snow and black umbrellas are unfurled and a sweeping overhead shot presents an even sadder glow.

The Joys of Nothing-ness.

"Wala lang."  How many times have you heard or read the phrase from your friends' lips or email- headings when they call or write?

Stevie Wonder said it, too, in his famous song " I Just Called to Say I Love You."  

"Wala lang," is akin to saying "Out of the blue."  It's like telling, "really, there's no special reason for my call, email or visit.  I just want to connect."

Many times in our lives, we do things for no special reason.  That's why there are hobbies that we take up or do.  Hobbies are meant to distract us from boredom or nothing-ness.  

But I discovered lately the joys of nothing-ness.

Ever since I decided to make permanent my semi-retirement, and not feel guilty about it, I began to understand the meaning of "second happiness."

From the day I graduated from post secondary in the Philippines up until the last day of work in Toronto, I was programmed to do one thing: wake up early in the morning and go to work. If I was out of work, which happened when the firm I worked for closed down after Ninoy Aquino was gunned down and I had to migrate to the U.S., then I would be waking up early in the morning and worrying when I would work next. 

When we started going to school, our parents and mentors always told us, study well so you could get a good job. So early on in our lives, the economics of existence had been drilled into our consciousness.  There was no escaping it.

Is it any wonder then that children grow up now believing that money is everything that matters in life? And with this mindset, they go raving about high-paying but boring call centre jobs, or government posts wherein they can earn big bucks on the side?

Is it any wonder then that in both private and public sectors, corruption is now a given?  Wala lang, kailangan, eh. 

That's why appreciating nothing-ness is a subject matter that we should be teaching our children. Because from nothing-ness, we can bring about something else. Like doing things that one can fully enjoy.

I used to think that I could be a pilot. But back then, we didn't have the army motto like "Be the best that you can be." So we followed what our parents wanted us to be. How about telling our kids just to be happy.

Nothing-ness. Like waking up in the morning and smelling the flowers in the garden. Or waiting for the birds to show up and listening to their chirp and song.  Enjoying a fresh cup of brewed coffee until it becomes a mere drop.  Or gazing out the window and following the circling of the butterflies.  Listening to the sound of the creek at the back of your house.  Even just feeling the wisp of air in your face.

The Central Park in Manhattan is an oasis in the city-nerve that is New York City.  It has been featured in countless films and novels.  Even in Catcher in the Rye, Holden Caulfield, frequented it with his sis, Phoebe. The Park, even today, is frequented by people who want to do nothing; but just to breathe the air, enjoy the sun, look at others, and pass time. 

Nothing-ness.  It is pure joy. 

I Need My Blues.

I don't mean Blues as in music genre; I meant my alone-ness, my solitude.

True.  While in Manila, the ever presence of relatives and friends and the many places and eateries to go to may divert one's attention from the Self. But the longing for solitude, that precious time with one's inner soul lingers on.

I need time alone.  When I can just relax and read and think.

When I was new in Ohio, some younger folks thought I was aloof (anti-social was the word some used). But I was just a new guy in town and the eerie silence of a small Midwest town was deafening and ironic as it was, I was looking for the homegrown night action and gigs, and the "loudness and craziness" of Manila. The HotDogs song Manila  "hinahanap hanap kita Manila, ang ingay mong masakit sa tenga," rang true.

But those many years living in the US and then in Canada inevitably dug into the system. And then, there was my latent sadness and seeking for alone-ness which meant peace and happiness to me. 

I need my blues.  I need to dream. 

Let's Just Do It

Keeping one’s hand out of greasy food and sweets is a struggle; maintaining an exercise regimen is even more difficult.

I know that like me, there are a thousand other people out there who abhor sweating it out, but let's face it, we've got to just do it. Doing a workout even for 15 minutes three times a week will go a long way in fighting heart disease and other health disorders.

In doing a lite cardio workout, I find the music of Kenny G very stimulating.

So to put myself into exercise mode, I would play a Kenny G and do the following exercise and dance. Try this one.

To the music of Breathless:

1. The Joy of Life ( 4:19)
Semi-fast music.

You can do : a) Side steps, right and left. Count: 1 – 2- 3 side to side, right and left.
Move hands side to side also.

b) Step 1 – 2- 3 forward, raise right leg and point right arm towards right foot.
RT foot 1 – 2- 3 back; lift L leg up and point left arm towards L foot.

2. Forever in Love (4:58)
Semi-slow.

You can do: Walk with tempo, start with RT foot, 1 – 2- 3, on 3rd count, make a punching movement with your L arm.

Then walk with L foot and punch movement with R arm.

3. In the Rain (4:59)
Walk like the way they do in a marathon. Do it with exaggerated hip and hand movement.

4. Sentimental (6:34)
Girls can do a “Didith Reyes” or a Lap dance movement.
Guys can do some “macho dancing” routines/movement.

You can close your eyes and feel your body sway and hands move
Make large and wide hip sways side to side, or in circular motion, drawing your stomach in and out. (Good for big tummy). Continue moving arms and hands as you do these circular motion.

5. By The Time This Night is Over (4:45)

Free style.

6. End of the Night (5:21)
Males – start with L foot and do 1 – 2 – 3 steps, then go to the R, 1-2-3, then take a rock step.

Females – start with R foot, same as above.

This is the basic SWING step as known in N. America. Manila swing is different.

If you get tired, walk the rest of the music, maintaining the tempo.

7. Alone (5:24)
Great for just walking around the room or house. Take small, measured steps, following the beat and cadence of the saxophone. 1 – 2- 3- 4- 5-6- 7- 8.
Both hands making forward and backward movements.

8. Morning (5:13)
Can be danced to a rumba. Or if not, just flick your L and R feet side to side, pointing and extending your hips with the foot.

9. Even If My Heart Would Break (4:58)
Good to do a “reggae”

10. G-Bop (4:05)

Can be danced to a fast mambo or salsa.
Or a merengue – move to the left side, counting 1 – 2- 3 – 4- 5- 6- 7 – 8; then to the right, (8) or forward and backward (8 steps).

11. Sister Rose (6:13)
Slow.

Start with either L or R. Step R, then close. Step L, then close.
Hands , move with force, to the front then to the side.

Here’s the combination:
R foot - L arm
L foot – R arm

12. A Year Ago (5;15)

Slow. Sway body from side to side. Raise arms and sway with body and bring down to level of your hips. Then move arms side to side as you sway.

13. Homeland (4:32)

Snap fingers while moving hands/arms continuously, front and sideways.

Feet - Do front and backwards steps ( 1 - 2- 3; 1-2- 3)

Or walk around while snapping fingers, and move arms front and hipside.

14. Wedding Song (3:21)

Cool Down. Walk like you're walking down the aisle, slo-mo.