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09/09/07: Kerouac's Dharma Bums I started reading at my Narita stopover amid my empty, growling stomach. In this airport I might end up paying for the most expensive meal of my life. I bought a McDo chicken fillet meal with my corporate-issued credit card that's strictly deemed only for plane tickets and accommodations. Or else the rule: 20 percent more of value or $100, whatever is higher. I was starving even before we reached Japan, throat parched and all. The office gave me hundred dollar bills for per diem two days before I left; no bank or money changer would break it down in lower denominations for me. Might as well chew it up for paper pulp, no? "Pain or love or danger makes you real again," is what my Kerouac would say, I guess. Bring it on.
09/10/07: Day one down at the St Paul headquarters. Survived iron-gripped shake hands, two meetings, and lunch (over at Boca Chica, a Mexican place) joined in by a top brass. Woozy still from my 14-hour plane trip and sleep-deprived. But what old world cuteness, park squirrels included. Quite chilly though, a low of some 50 Fahrenheit outside. After work, Max tagged along as I shopped for bottled water at Wallgreens. Afterwards she gave me a lift and dropped me at my apartment. I'm sharing the unit with a guy from the Manila office. No sponge to wash our dishes with; Max said she'll give me some for free tomorrow.
09/12/07: I got lost walking yesterday on my way back to the apartment from work. My trip should only be no more than ten minutes. But I took a wrong turn, went around in circles; almost reached the cathedral (which I plan to check out near the end of my stay), prompting me to further confuse my direction. To tell the truth, the city kind of scares me, despite the smiling Peanuts and Snoopy mascots dotting its streetcorners, skywalks, and shops. When I took out a chicken sandwich from Subway, the crew person - 40ish white woman with snaking tattoos on both arms - seemed to eye me with disdain. Dunno why I'm nervy, I'm from Manila for chrissakes. But maybe it's my own prejudice acting up. Today I eased past my way without a misstep.
09/14/07: So stuffed. Had a really large club sandwich and chips from Great Waters for lunch. First filling meal here. Afterwards I attended Fika (coffee, cookies, camaraderie?) over at the 2nd floor, arranged by the new-agey emp comm officer from Sweden. We were asked to sing along with - sing ahead of - her in a language only she understood. The object was for us to let loose, go with the voice within. Or something. Tonight under zero degree celsius my apartment mates and I crashed at the suites where the other Pinoys were staying (they got posh while we skimped on tissue rolls). Only we were put on the spot to sponsor booze. We searched for a convenience store that sold beer. Extra challenge: the city's a deadtown after 5. Usual cunt talk (strippers, thai transgenders, wrinkled skin) ensued between the guys (my mouth's zipped, promise). Baseball was on TV when we returned to the suites. I didn't have a clue how the sport went, but everyone else deliberated on strikes and stuff. Downed popcorn with a Bud and a Corona. Thanks Corona for the 7 hour sleep.)
9/15/07: Got the chance to stroll around town. While free-loading breakfast over at the Suites, we saw on TV a long queue for hockey tickets at the nearby Xcel Energy Center. We trooped to the place, taking the long cut to view city landmarks (fire station anyone?). We chanced upon the news broadcaster who covered the event. The guys requested for a photo opp with her. So tacky. Then we gawked at the Mississippi before heading back to Cosmo. At 11 Max and her hubby Bob picked me up for the book arts fair over at Minneapolis. Pretty neat: exhibits of artist books, prints, and book-binding equipment. Next stops were the opera house (escalators straight up to the fourth level; posters of plays I read in college but conveniently forgot), the farmers market, then a lunch at an organic resto. I ordered quesadillas, not knowing that the dish came with a plateful of salad. As in leaves. While the couple enjoyed desserts, I munched and gagged on leaves. More strolling along the Mississippi after. We briefly went to the Oktoberfest, but I didn't have any ID so I can't order beer. Besides. Low point of the day was doing a week's worth of laundry.
9/16/07: Picked apples today! And berries too. Mark drove me to the apple orchard, a good half-hour down into the Minnesota suburbs. Max waited for us there. A hay-stack tractor took us around the farm. Nothing beats getting dirty after long hours spent staring at the laptop's liquid screen. Vines, bees, and sunshine were a welcome break from circuitry. I filled a plastic bag with the red baron variety. Ripe enough if it gave in. First encounter with a llama (imported from the Andes) and a donkey at the petting mini-zoo. Got soil stains on khakis and shoes but who cares. I love love the tuna sandwich I had for late lunch. Thinking about it now, I don't know what to do with all the apples. Just stack it up, I guess. Been a week, oh boy.
10/9/07: Almost a month now, and the short of it is I'm back home, airplane turbulence and all. The US trip was a welcome change in perspective (and weather). I had reservations about it at first, mainly because I dreaded lunch time with people I hardly know. But whew, all's well that ends well. Thinking about it, I never had such amount of work lined up in my life. On the upside, my officemates were cool enough to have guided/goaded me into experiencing more of Minneapolis-St Paul before I left: ate alien food (from Minnesottan potluck to Tibetan and Kurdish) that taste rather familiar somehow, bought cool finds at Sixth Chambers, watched a local play, boozed (Chino Latino's Good Morning Bangkok was a knocker). But the apartment where I stayed at remains my favorite spot in the state: I learned much about being alone from its four corners while cleaning up the ref for rotten apples. So now in Manila I find myself deep in a growing pile of to-dos: project backlogs, magazine articles, school reports. Oh well, bring it on.
Just to share two sidetrips:
Seattle. It was my most surreal elevator ride: a mere 40 seconds up the Space Needle's deck, a dreamed up height. From its top view, rain-threatened Seattle looked less busy than it was. Next stop was Pike Place Market, home to the original Starbucks. What can I say, it's tourist-infested. A walking distance from it was the Seattle Aquarium, which was neat but... so fish, but I'm an island boy myself. On my last day, as my cousin Lev was driving his mini-truck back to Tita Esther's house, sunset was just falling and this song was playing from his CD saying something about getting lost. I felt like a stranger in a strange land that I was, but as long as there are people who care, I'll keep right. (Especially when they got me a laptop, a digicam, and an iPod, right?)
Cleveland. I stayed with Mom-side relatives who, though well-meaning, all seem like they're teetering from nervous breakdowns. Thankfully I was dropped off to explore the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum for a whole Saturday afternoon. Its pyramid-enclosed corridors aim to encapsulate this emergent musical movement's history. Immersed myself on multimedia screenings, interactive listening booths (heard Edison's original recording of "Mary Had a Little Lamb"), and exhibits of all things rock and roll (from guitars to cars to first-generation audios). Sandwiched before and after this nirvana were lows of lameness: nagged into helping deliver empanadas (and vinegar sauce) for catering and washed really oily dishes and climbed a kitchen window to unlock the main door (Grandpa, the keys, where the heck).
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