Living happily ever after

Two years ago, my parents celebrated their golden anniversary. This year, both of them turned 80. Both of them are still active and healthy. My dad still goes to work like he is years away from retiring age. My mom doesn't look a day over 60.

These days, you just can't imagine living a life that full - let alone living it with the same person for 50 years. But I guess that's us thinking that happily ever after is what we dreamed it would be: hand in hand, walking into the sunset, music playing as the credits roll.

In truth, from what I see in my parents, it's just living a simple life with simple joys. Sundays at home. My dad driving my mom to family reunions. Little fights here and there because someone didn't wait for the other to start dinner. Dad calling my Mom when he's only 5 minutes away from the house. They're not even the romantic type, nor could I say that they are each other's best friend or confidante. They are just really content with each other. I know that doesn't sound like much, but it's that simple. Ultimately, I guess that's as happy ever after as any two people can get.

Just my luck

I'm a lucky bastard. In 2001 I was assigned this project that took me to Europe for a month and had me relocate to Sydney for about 10 months in 2002-2003. I loved Sydney. It had the bluest sky I've ever seen. I can commute to and go for long walks at Bondi beach. I lived in a posh apartment by Darling Harbour and my office had a view of Harbour bridge and the Sydney Opera House. I strolled around Hyde Park on weekends. I was partying at Oxford Street on weeknights (yes, weekdays and weekends). I was there during Gay Games 2002 and experienced my first Mardi Gras there. Ok, the only downside is there was one night I thought I could've died (see post below) and I was single for most of my stay there. But I made some great friends and acquaintances there. And the city itself became like an old friend I know I can come home to every now and then.

Here are my fave photos of St. Mary's Cathedral, Bondi beach, a couple walking by the fountain in Hyde Park, a lamppost by Town Hall, the skyline along Darling Harbour, a statue in Hyde Park and of course, the Opera House.

The night I thought would be my last

Here's something I wrote 5 years ago. When I wrote it down I told myself it's something I should keep re-reading for the rest of my life, if only to remind myself of how things can happen in the blink of an eye.

I shouldn’t have been at the Stonewall this morning. But I bumped into this guy from Newcastle that I met about a month ago and wound up hanging out with him for most of the night. We hopped from bar to bar, and at 5:30 a.m. I told him I’m heading home. He convinced me to hang around until the sun is up, so we headed back to the Stonewall Hotel – a bar we both always go to on Oxford Street here in Sydney.

It was still fairly packed with people inside, considering the sky was turning light. The Stonewall had three floors and we went straight to the 2nd floor. There were about a dozen people on the dance floor. And about a dozen or so more just standing around, by the bar, sitting on the couches scattered around. I was feeling tired already so I went for this big couch near the doorway that had a big, thick wooden back that was about five feet high. The music was good and I was contemplating whether to get up on the dance floor or buy a drink. But I was tired so I sat back and stretched my feet below the table in front of me. My companion was to my left and he did the same. There was a guy farther away to my right with whom I wondered if I should strike a conversation.

Then I heard a really loud rumbling sound. I thought it was part of the music. Then all I can remember is the ceiling crashing down. And everything went black and silent…except for moans of “Oh my God” coming from all around me.


I can’t believe I was ok. It was an old building and I don’t know if that ceiling was made of cement but it was massive. The star-shaped mirror ball hanging from the ceiling fell in front of me. There were lights on it too and most likely electric cables with it. But apart from the dust, I was untouched. The ceiling fell but the back of the couch and the table in front supported it so it gave me that “triangle of life.” And because I was slouching, I wasn’t trapped in any way. I was able to free my legs, twist and turn to my companion.

I remember my companion was bending to his side. In the dark I felt for him and checked if he was ok. He said he was fine then asked what happened. I didn’t even answer. I knew he was at the edge of the couch and I saw that there was light enough for us to crawl under the collapsed ceiling, turn from behind the couch and exit. I pushed him to just go, we should get out of there.

When we hit the stairs there were still people standing frozen in disbelief. I just bolted down. It was all happening so fast that when we reached the first floor the music was still playing and the people there were still oblivious of what happened. A bartender was running up the stairs to check. I didn’t even have time to say anything to her or to anyone. I should’ve. The second floor might collapse on the first floor too because of the weight. But I didn’t have time to pause and warn them. Within seconds we were outside. The bouncers at the door were still clueless as well.

Coming out behind us was a woman who was in a state. She kept asking if a bomb went off, did a bomb go off? It had just been a year since 9-11 and the bombing in Bali, Indonesia just happened a month before so it wasn’t too farfetched. But I didn’t say anything. I too was in shock. I didn’t think it was a bomb. But I didn’t have any explanation either.

Ten minutes later I was across the street with my companion. There was dust all over my black shirt and that betrayed that something had gone wrong. The paramedics and the police and fire departments arrived and people had been evacuated into the street. Some were on the floor crying. Some were just walking around dazed. A number were in panic looking for their friends. But most of them were just embracing and holding each other for support.

Passersby started to question us. It became a seemingly endless series of recounting the same story. It felt longer to tell it than to experience it. It can’t have been 30 seconds from the time I heard the noise to the time we got out. Some people saw the dust on my shirt and it was touching how you see the concern on their faces as these total strangers went up to me to check if I was alright.

I saw a Filipino guy I met that night. He couldn’t find his friends and he was shaking so bad that a girl was holding him and when she saw that I knew him, she told me to stay with him. I didn’t know how to comfort him except to hold him close while we walk around to see if his friends were outside already, trying to calm him down. Fortunately, he found both friends. They were shaken, but fine. One of them just went to the toilet and was shocked by what happened when he came out. It would make for a funny story later.

From where I stood, I saw the paramedics coming out with people on stretchers. I felt weak. We can only guess at that point if the ceiling collapsed or if the entire 3rd floor fell on us. I could only hope that by that 5:30 a.m. the 3rd floor would have been closed. Then I thought of all those people dancing in the middle of the 2nd floor. There was a guy in a suit dancing on the ledge by the window. There were guys and girls on the couches in front of us. There were people at the bar. I don’t know what happened to them. We were lucky we were sitting where we did. We were lucky we were by the doorway. We were lucky we weren’t just walking in at that point, or that we weren’t there long enough for either of us to stand up and dance or order a drink.

Close to 6 a.m. and that whole section of Oxford Street was closed off and more fire trucks and ambulances started coming. I saw that the lights inside the Stonewall were off which meant that they cut the cables before a spark ignited a fire. News photographers arrived. I looked for the Filipino guy and made sure he was ok. Then I decided to leave because the scene was starting to get mad.

I was an $8 cab ride from the Stonewall to home but I was so shaken that I felt I needed to walk. My companion decided to walk with me too. He was heading back to Central station to catch a 3-hour train ride to Newcastle. All we could talk about is how unbelievable it was. How the Stonewall was always packed it was lucky that it didn’t happened even an hour earlier when nearly ten times as many people were on the second floor. But most of all, we can’t believe how lucky we were. He only came here once a month or so. I was only here in Sydney for a project I’m working on. But we both always hung out at the Stonewall. That we narrowly missed getting injured is just too much to take.

We parted ways halfway to my place. He and I only really got to know each other tonight. In fact, by 2:30 a.m. we needed to ask each other’s names again when we traded phone numbers. It was lucky we were together. If either of us were alone, we would probably be standing by the wall instead of sitting on the couch. If we didn’t meet, we’d both probably spend the whole night at the Stonewall and would be up dancing until morning. Or maybe we’d both be home, but who can say? There was nothing dramatic when we parted. We just shook hands, checked if each other was ok, and promised to keep in touch though we knew we won’t.

I sent text messages to all my friends who knew I frequented Stonewall in case they hear about it and worry. Then I called my Mom (at 3:30 a.m. in Manila) to be the one to break the news in case she sees it on TV. Afterwards, I couldn’t sleep. I took a bath to wash out the debris on me, then I dressed up to go to Church. I was starting to get overwhelmed by the realizations that I could’ve been injured or worse, I needed to go.

My friend Mets got my text message at around 9 a.m. and volunteered to go to Church with me. When I saw her I hugged her and almost broke into tears. That day, everyone who knew started messaging me or calling. I met with some colleagues and their embraces gave me comfort. Even my Mom called again to check – I think she was in a daze as well getting my message at 3 in the morning.

Mets and I went to the beach to help me clear my head and calm down. When we rode the bus back, it was all back to normal and it seemed that the whole incident was so surreal it couldn’t have happened. Until the bus passed Oxford and we saw the Stonewall cordoned off by the police.

That afternoon, I heard in the news that 18 people were injured but fortunately nobody was seriously hurt. The ceiling of the 2nd floor collapsed but not the entire 3rd floor. The landlord claims that even though it’s an old building, city inspectors check the place regularly. I’m inclined to believe him since inspectors would probably check if the floor is safe, but who would have thought that the ceiling would give way? Apparently city engineers are now investigating the cause.

It is now 9 p.m. of Sunday, 15½ hours after the event, and I have had only an hour’s worth of sleep since I went to bed Friday night. I just wanted to write all of this while it is all still fresh. I’ve recounted it all so many times already but I can’t stop from talking about it. The truth is, I need to unload.

Meanwhile, I go to bed tonight with more realizations than I can write down. I am here and I am safe. Did I just get my second chance? Was this my wake up call? It all happened too quickly and too suddenly. And maybe that’s the way it goes. Whether you are religious or not, whether you believe in a higher being or just plain luck, you can’t deny how fragile our lives are and that they are not in our power to keep. The truth is you do only have now. Tomorrow is not a given. Even later is a blessing. And you can’t take any minute for granted.

November 24, 2002
Sydney, Australia
Sydney Morning Herald "Nightclub Ceiling Collapse Sparks Terrorism Scare"
Sydney Star Observer "Stonewall - What Happened?"
About a week later the Stonewall opened again and in a month I was back there and saw some familiar faces from that fateful night. And when I had my leaving party when I finally finished my work in Sydney and was going back to Hong Kong, of course we capped the night at Stonewall.

Spreading Faster than Cancer

Late last year, my sister was running out of pillows. For weeks she was having trouble breathing whenever she lay in bed. At first piling up pillows behind her head helped. But when she had already piled them so high and still couldn't breathe well, she knew it might be more serious.

When she went for a check up, she was told there was fluid in her lungs - a lot of it that kept coming back even when the doctors drain it. The first suspicion was tuberculosis, but that was later ruled out. Soon the doctors identified the cause: by some strange complication, what’s in her lungs was abdominal fluid, which was being pushed up by a growth in her ovaries. It was cancer and she was told it was stage 4.

This sister of mine is the doctor in the family, so you can imagine how lost and confused we were now that the one person who knows how best to take care of all of us is the one who is sick.

But she had always been strong. She patiently explained every detail of her condition to us. She knew how to deal with the pain. (Though the nurses were all nervous around her because she knew their job better than they did.) She has 4 kids and she and her psychologist husband somehow managed to explain the situation to them in such a way that the kids knew the gravity of it but managed to cope.

In turn, my family helped in various ways. One sister spent time with their kids. Another sister spent time at the hospital and stayed by my sick sister’s side as much as she could. Our eldest sister was with “Couples for Christ” so she offered masses and prayers. My brother in New York called often and offered financial aid. And me? I had to take on the responsibility that no one else was equipped to handle. Before she went for chemotherapy, I took charge of getting my sister a wig.

But that’s oversimplifying things. Truth is, we all did a bit of everything. And when all was done, there still couldn’t be enough prayers. My brother-in-law’s friends from school helped him organize a special mass. I went to the miraculous shrines of Manaoag and Baclaran. My partner went to a healing priest and offered “proxy healing” for her by bringing her picture along.

We all prayed for a miracle. And, without us realizing, one was being granted to us - slowly but surely.

Last March the operation to remove the tumor was tricky. But somehow my sister did not only pull through without complication, the doctors said they managed to remove 98% of the cancer. The rest, they hoped to remove with chemotherapy.

In April, when my family did our annual Good Friday pilgrimage to Tanay, we thought we were merely there to pray. But it was through conversations with relatives (that we only see once a year) that an aunt of ours introduced us to this herbal medicine called “Himalayan Goji” that was so potent it was known to cure various diseases, including cancer. Normally we would be skeptical, but we figured it was worth a try. My sister just had her first chemo session then and was very weak from it. She decided to give Goji a try because, if anything, it had high vitamin C content. After a day, she vowed it made her stronger. And from then on, it was Goji that helped her through chemotherapy. In fact she was able to recover so quickly that within days, she was already driving her kids to school and running errands! Looking at how active she was (and of course, ehem, with the clever wig she was wearing) you wouldn’t think she had cancer.

In June, when she went for a check up, the doctors said she was improving at a dramatic pace. Can’t quite quote exactly how, but the long and the short of it was she was getting better, but she still had a few chemo sessions to go.

By July she was due for a check up that would determine if there were still any cancer cells in her body that would necessitate further chemo. Of all dates it was on her birthday, July 20, that she would get the results. We couldn’t plan any big party to celebrate. All our emotions hung in the balance. As you can imagine, further chemo was proving too taxing – physically (even with Goji to help boost her strength), emotionally and financially.

But it was inevitable. As I said, a miracle was already at work. It was in the skillful hands of my sister’s doctors. It was in the strength of my sister’s resolve. It was in that Good Friday when my aunt introduced us to Goji. It was in the way my sister’s husband took care of her and the way our family bonded and worked together. It was in the way our relatives and our friends prayed. It was in the way everyone, even the kids, stayed strong and supportive and in good spirits. Everything was pre-ordained and everything was quickly leading to something and it all pointed to one thing.

For what can spread faster than cancer, but a miracle?

And so, on her 47th birthday, after over half-a-year of battling stage 4 of the big C, my sister was diagnosed to be in good health.

Hallelujah, indeed!

Polishing

Today is our 4th anniversary, me and my life partner. It's really a big one for me, not so much because of the years, but because I can say I'm actually very happy. When I started writing this blog, I wasn't sure how personal I'd make it. But this, more than any moanings and musings on life, is as personal as it gets: I'm happy. Had our big dinner and exchanged gifts. He's busy working tonight and I decided I want to write something. But reading through my old journals, I came across this entry that I wrote in 2003 while I was still working on a project in Sydney. We were only a few months into the relationship and, as was often back then, we just had one of our "long distance fights." This is why I know I am truly happy - because after 4 years, I celebrate both the good and the bad days we've had.


OCTOBER 3, 2003

This Friday night is cold. It’s 9:15 p.m., just got out of the office, had a long day that practically started on Thursday morning. Heading back to my hotel. Hailed a cab. Rode in front. Russian driver. Big fellow in his mid forties. He had the windows down and the sunroof open.

“Mind if we close the sunroof? It’s a lovely night, but I’m not feeling well.” I was freezing.

“Ah no worries...just wanted fresh air,” the cab driver said with a thick accent.

“Sorry, had little sleep last night then went through a very long day today at work.”

“Why did you have little sleep last night?” He had a simple-guy, grandfatherly air about him.

“hahaha, long story”

“Did you go party?”

“Yeah well, sort of. Had a bit of a fight, well, sort of a fight with my loved one. Went out for a drink. Needed to blow off some steam.”

“Well, you are young, you can blow off steam”

I chuckled. “Not that young anymore, went to bed at 4 am or so, now I feel like shit for it.”

“When you are young you can go party. Me, I go party. But to celebrate my 20th er...20th..." He struggled to find the right word.

“20th Anniversary? Wow! That’s huge!”

“Yes my wife and I married 20 years”

“That’s amazing, congratulations!”

“20 years, we fight 3 times a week. Sometimes 3 times a day. But it’s good, makes the relationship interesting. If I married another girl, life would be boring.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“We have 2 children. One grown up now. She will be starting relationship of her own.”

“I’m at the start of mine. 3 months and we already fight like this. I hate this time. I love it and hate it!”

“But fighting is good. It is what we call it... in Russia... it is polishing. It is when you have 2 hard surfaces banging at each other until it is smooth. Better that you fight because you and your girlfriend let it out, if not it will snowball. You ever go to mountains?”

“Yeah”

“It’s snowball. If you let that happen...it will explode...and kill you all! Hahaha!” He was laughing heartily. “We men, we are like boys. It takes time for women to understand. My wife, when people ask her how many children she has, she says 3! Two girls and one husband, hahaha!”

Then we turned a corner. A pretty girl crossed the road. The cab driver laughs and comments about her beautiful legs. Then he says, “But I am very lucky.” He goes on to tell me he’s going to Hobart for the anniversary. Their big day is October 8. They’ve never been to Hobart. Neither have I.

We pulled up to my hotel. I gave him a hefty tip – after all, he’s got an anniversary to celebrate. Well, I’m claiming it from my company anyway, let’s just say it’s a happy anniversary gift from my company.

“Good night and congratulations again on your 20th!”

“And good luck to you on your relationship!” Then he drove off.


I was smiling as I entered the hotel. I got into my room and sent a text message. It starts with a big “I love you.” He’s most likely in a meeting and this is coming out of nowhere so he’s probably gonna be weirded out a bit.

But I do.

I want to polish this relationship until the rough edges go away. Or maybe it won’t. But whatever happens, it will make us shine.


9:45 p.m.
Marriott Hotel
Sydney, Australia
(I flew back to Manila the next day)

U.S. Road Trip 5 - Boston and P-town

A friend of mine from high school was then based in Boston so, armed with my mutliple trip Amtrak ticket, I went up for the weekend with an overnight bag, a jacket I borrowed frorm my brother and images of Ally McBeal and Good Will Hunting in my head.

My friend introduced me to his friends so most of the time I went around at a slower, more relaxed pace while chatting and being shown around like the tourist that I am. Saw the sights. Took photos. Went clubbing. The one time I was alone was when I attempted to go to Harvard. After making my way 3000 miles across the U.S. for almost a month, I knew I was bound to get lost at some point. And so I didn't see Harvard at all.

My friend did organize a day trip to Provincetown. We rented a car and drove up to what is supposedly the gay mecca of the U.S. (well, there seems to be a few gay meccas there). Maybe because it was still the tail end of winter, the town was nice and quaint, but rather sleepy and quiet. The four of us who drove up must be the biggest and noisiest group walking around town.

It was here that I did get to see the Atlantic coast. The air was cold and the sun was setting as I stared into the vast horizon. My journey was ending here and I was about to head back, back to Boston, back to New York, back to Hong Kong, back to my life.

But it's a different me now. I was no longer afraid to explore and live.

A few months later, I went to Australia twice, then to Europe twice and even went to New York again - all before my next birthday. Had many travels since. But this U.S. trip was truly the journey of my life.

U.S. Road Trip 4 - New York

My brother flew back to New York while I took the overnight train. It's interesting taking the train all the way across America. From LA to Chicago, the passengers felt more relaxed and friendly. Here everyone just minded their own business as if it's all one mundane commute.

It wasn't my first time in Manhattan and I had a couple of friends and relatives there. I knew I would have a great time - which was great because I was going to spend my birthday there too. My brother's place is actually in North Bergen, New Jersey, right by the river where you can see all of Manhattan from the basement laundry.

Almost every night, I was out clubbing in Manhattan. My friend Fudge went with me most of the time. Went to all sorts of places - straight, gay, lesbian. A few times Fudge would head home earlier than me. Once I walked down Broadway alone at around 3am. I walked down the middle of the road where I figured I'm safest from muggers (as long as I don't get run over). There were a few times I had to wait til about 5am for the bus to Jersey from Port Authority - while waiting, I figured it safest to blend in with the guys warming themselves by a fire by the side of the road. Another time I just slept on the floor of the bus station. And once I wound up on the wrong bus and by some miracle made my way from Jersey City to North Bergen in one piece. My brother was always surprised at how I manage to get home every morning.

During the days I did wake up and the sun was still out, I managed to go to Central Park, go Used CD shopping in St. Marks, went to the foot of the Statue of Liberty, dreamt big dreams like Melanie Griffith in "Working Girl" staring at the World Trade Center. It was six months before 9/11. Like the rest of the world, these were some of the last days I was young and free and unconcerned.


Pictured here: Liberty behind the trees, the bench where I greeted myself a happy birthday (after a looong night of partying), the Manhattan skyline as I will always remember it and my rather ominous photo of the World Trade Center in the shadow of a passing cloud.

U.S. Road Trip 3 - Chicago

Spent around 28 hours on a train from Grand Junction to Chicago. Plenty of time to forget about being shy and start chatting with different people. One was an old guy who liked talking politics with me - though I'm pretty sure I sounded clueless. I did enjoy the ride and going from car to car. This despite the fact that before I boarded in San Francisco the headlines were about a train that derailed.














My brother flew from New York to Chicago to hang out with me. He's 15 years older than me and left the Philippines when I was 11. It's not the first time I visited him in the U.S. but it was the first time we really had bonding time. He was more maps and guidebooks, and I was more "hey, let's walk til our knees go wobbly." But the yin and yang act worked and the photos show how much fun we actually had.

U.S. Road Trip 2 - Yosemite and Grand Junction, Colorado

I would have wanted my road trip to be a driving trip, but since I was traveling alone, I chickened out and decided to Amtrak it across America. After San Francisco I took a train and a bus to Yosemite National Park and I fell so in love with it so much that there's a separate entry for it below. The last snow was melting and I had the most peaceful 3 days of my life there.













Took the train back to San Francisco to do my laundry and to go clubbing again. Then headed east. On the train, I met some college kids on spring break. I wanted to cut the journey and stop by a small town somewhere. Grand Junction Colorado was on the way and for some reason I decided that's the one.

It was really quiet and the streets were empty. And with the few people I saw, I didn't see any other Asian.

I could feel all eyes on me as I walked around and took pictures. It was a rather strange experience but I'm still glad I went, though I probably won't go back.

U.S. Road Trip 1 - San Francisco

In March 2001, I decided to go on a one month road trip across the U.S. This was my first big vacation alone.

First stop was San Francisco. I stayed in a motel on Market St. Walked up and downhill til my knees went. Met a friend of a friend and we drove to the Pacific coast and to Napa - which was great but I wasn't much of a wine drinker. Went clubbing every night.

Oh and almost got mugged once. Almost. This guy was hiding in a corner, but I saw him and bitched at him before he could surprise me so he decided I'm not worth the trouble.

Pictured here: Birds at dusk at by the Golden Gate bridge, a van by the Pacific Coast, endless Transmerica building, the clock tower at the ferry building, the Palace of the Fine Arts, St. Peter and Paul Church, a boat sailing above the houses and, to the left, just why it's hard to stay straight in San Francisco.

Muppet Faces

Here are some of my all-time favorite pics. Me and my nephews and nieces. Every New Year, we have our family photo taken. I don't know when it started, but being the youngest in my family - 12 years younger than my youngest sister and about 12 years older than my oldest niece - I get to goof around in a photo with all the kids. You will probably notice in a lot of my other photos here that I usually have my "muppet face" on whenever I have my picture taken. (It's actually a defense mechanism, you see. This way nobody will say you look fat or old or ugly.) Anyway, soon the kids started doing their own funny faces and have their own ideas for quirky poses. I guess if I have a legacy, it's this. Muppet faces. Whatever each new year brings, I know that these pictures will always make us smile.