BAZAAR LOVE TRIANGLE

(quickie post, awesome pun)

The 'ber months signal the start of bazaar season in Manila. On any given weekend, dozens of these things sprout in subdivisions, event tents, office building lobbies, parking lots, and any other available open space you can think of ("bazaar" is ancient Persian for "also available at a mall, but without the door prize").

Over the years, the Home Office has gotten in on that hot bazaar action. Every November, it stages an "International Bazaar" featuring various stalls run by foreign embassies. And every November, I manage to miss it due to travel, weekend duty or sheer forgetfulness.

This year, with a wedding approaching and in need of souvenirs, the LLDDL made sure we wouldn't miss the Home Office bazaar for anything (Spoiler Alert: ninangs, you're getting those tablecloths the LLDDL is holding). We blocked out the date, bought our entrance tickets well in advance, and arrived at the venue bright and early to beat the traffic and secure a parking space.

Slight problem though: we arrived bright and early alright -- at the wrong location. Seems I was too macho to bother looking at the tickets and simply presumed that the Home Office bazaar would be held at the nearest events center. It wasn't. It was being held at PICC, a kilometer away. Oops. Amazing Races are won or lost on brainfarts like those.*

But wait. The place where we're at is also holding a bazaar! A bigger one! And organized by actresses and showbiz people!

Hmmm, bit of a dilemma here. Do we leave, forfeit the parking fee, and head over to the Home Office bazaar run by dignified diplomats? Or do we stay here in this sea of silicone, this convention hall of hotties?


We head over to the Home Office bazaar.

I must really love my country.

And my job.

And the LLDDL.



*(speaking of AR -- well, another Filipino team of overconfident hardbodies loses to another pair of doughy, regular nice guys. I told y'all, it's a mistake to keep on sending socialite/model types as Philippine representatives to the race. Sure they looked good, but they're always too aware of the camera, were hard to identify with, and didn't effortlessly interact with the locals. We didn't need any more teams that spent their free time wall-climbing; we needed real-people teams that didn't have free time to wall-climb! More Quiapo, less Rockwell! But did anyone listen? Nooooo. I bet next season they'll still send a contrived team of "best friend" models/VJs/yoga-practitioners named C. J. and Bianca or something. I'm truly upset over this)

Most countries just went with their strengths at their booths. You didn't even need flags or signs to figure things out. It really was quite easy. Thus: BELGIUM - Chocolates. . .

. . . HOLLAND - flowers . . .



. . . SRI LANKA - tea . . .



. . . IRAN - rugs . . .



. . .ITALY - Jolina Magdangal movies that underperform at the box office.

The South African booth featured some really cool blankets, textiles and world cup merchandise. I kid you not, they sold out everything - and I mean everything - before lunchtime.

I'd take that as a challenge, Nigeria.

I actually was scheduled to go to Peru this week, but got scratched off at the last minute. Shame, because, if their booth is any indication, they got some pretty cool stuff (and, let's face it, PICC is no Machu Picchu)

And finally, I know the bazaar is supposed to represent everything international, but are there really that many ways to spell pashmina? I counted 82.

IT'S FRIDAY, I MUST BE IN...NEW YORK

So...we meet again, New York.

Look, we both know the deal: you don't like me, and I've been hard on you. But I just want a quiet trip this time. We don't have to get in each other's way. Really, I don't want any troubl...





Dammit, New York!

HALLOWEEN

To be fair, we arrived in New York on Halloween, so we should have expected some stuff to be messed-up. The night itself was actually very entertaining and enjoyable, save for the time my friend and I were walking along a darkened sidewalk, and as we turned the building corner - aaaaaiiiigh!!!!! - a guy dressed as "Jigsaw" came out of the shadows and startled us. Not cool man! Not cool!

Going around the city, I noticed the Halloween costumes generally fell into three categories: the "playas"...







... the "naughty (fill-in-the-blank)"...

...and the "genuinely creepy" (I swear, this fraking clown freaked everyone out because he just stood there on the subway platform - perfectly frozen - while everyone else moved around him. God, I hate clowns).

THE MARATHON

After mass on Sunday (presided by a Filipino priest - naturally), I wandered over to Central Park and stumbled on the 25th mile of the New York Marathon. At the time I arrived, the leaders of the handicapped division were just passing through and the crowd was going wild (I'm not ashamed to say I got a bit misty). The leaders of the elite women's and men's divisions followed a coupled of minutes later, to more roars. All told, where Halloween night was disturbing, the marathon was truly fun and inspiring.

(So frak you, clown and Jigsaw! Frak both of you!!!)

Top: Paula Radcliffe ran away (har!) with the elite women's division, with the second placer more than a minute behind; Bottom: the elite men were much closer and, if I got the news reports right, the guy running second in the video would soon overtake the leader during the last mile and go on to win the race. But win or lose, man or woman, what's truly important is I want their abs.

As time passed, the rest of the pack arrived (I don't know what they call the non-elite racers; regulars? the Shmo division?). I set up at a hill between the 24th and 25th mile markers because that was where I thought "The Wall" would be for most of the runners. I was not disappointed. Aside from the regulars/shmos, racers came in several general types:

the "Crowd Wavers"...








...the "Funny Wig People" (oh sorry, that last guy was wearing his real hair; my bad)








...the "Costumed Contestants"...







...the "Crampers"...







...and last, but not the least, the "Pukers".





"Joy of Running" my ass.







40,000 runners, countless water cups, two visible porta-potties. You do the math.

I haven't decided if this is a cool thing or not, but many runners wrote their names on their shirts, apparently to encourage cheers from the roadside crowd. This, in turn, led to the following typical exchange among spectators:

Man: Look, there's Steve!
Woman: Go Steve!
Man: Go Steve!
Woman: Who's Steve?
Man: No idea.

Hey! A guy wearing a Philippine flag! He's walking all the way to finish line, but still. Go Esteban!

This girl didn't stop eating and drinking in front of the tired runners for 20 minutes straight. Cruel is what it was.

After about an hour of watching runners limp past, I decide to roam the rest of the park. It really is beautiful -- the crown jewel of the city. For entertainment purposes, I also play a little game called "Spot in five minutes as many things that appear in 'Stuff White People Like' as you can" (easily, I saw Organic Food, Yoga, Awareness, Marathons [of course], Apple Products, Vintage, Irony, Expensive Sandwiches, Co-Ed Sports, Bottles of Water, The Idea of Soccer, Outdoor Performance Clothes, Rugby, New Balance Shoes, Children's Games as Adults, Girls with Bangs, and [bottom] Frisbee Sports).

Many, many hours later, I pass by the finish line and find scores of runners still coming in. The whole place resembled an evacuation camp: thousands of cold, exhausted people walking around lost and/or in a daze; people shouting out for friends and family; emotional hugs and reunions. Really, the only difference between the finish line and a "War of the Worlds" refugee scene was those awesome looking metallic blankets given to race finishers.

To help in their search, many in the crowd held up signs of their loved ones (I don't know if Mummolo was ever found; we can only hope).

To my surprise, I saw finishers walking home as far as Times Square and even our hotel, both more than 20 blocks away from the finish line. You'd think after running 26 miles they would've earned a cab ride or something, but no.

BEST OF THE REST OF NEW YORK



The New York Restaurants

Or, as they call them here, "expensive" (but you couldn't put a price on those views).

FDR Presidential Library






What little I saw was beautiful. And FDR, of course, was the Professor X of presidents.



Those Wedding Displays









The LLDDL told me to keep an eye out for wedding ideas. This was the best I could do.

(Waldorf and Tiffany's were closed when I passed, sweetie, I swear!)



Madison Avenue Street Market




As craptastic as Ya Show, Mongkok or Greenhills, but much more expensive.





And classier. Much classier.





AND FINALLY, A HISTORIC NIGHT

Our stay in New York coincided with election night in the States, so after work I walked over to Times Square to check out the results and get a feel for the atmosphere. Could I stand out in the cold behind a barricade for hours without having to go to the bathroom? Yes I could! Yes I could!

On the way to Times Square, I pass by Rockefeller Plaza and catch part of NBC's set-up. They tracked electoral votes with those window-washer pulley-platform things: as votes came in for a candidate, the platform on his side of the building would pull itself upwards, heading closer to the 270 sign. Really, NBC? Manual labor? That's all you had?

CNN, for its part, occupied part of Times Square with a bleachers-and-giant screen spread. Not bad, but no "Wow!" factor (nor any Blitzer hologram, dammit)

Ah, here we go. The other end of Times Square, with ABC and Fox News trying to one-up each other. I set up camp here and tracked results through the night. Every time there was a roar, I thought the winner had already been proclaimed. Invariably, it was just the TV cameras turning to shoot the crowd (wherever you are in the world, people will hysterically yell into cameras and do a version of "Can I greet?")

And at precisely 11:00 pm New York time...the Western states results come in...a winner is declared...and pandemonium ensues.

Scenes from a celebration

After a while, the news crews are let loose on the crowd. On our side of the square, an awesomely smug-looking reporter comes over and asks everyone what the results mean to them. I was actually close enough and next-in-line to be interviewed, and was tempted to introduce myself as an observer from NAMFREL. I wisely thought against it and stepped back in favor of the couple at the bottom. Anyway, I still made a Forrest Gump-like cameo at the -00:59 mark of the news report.

Throughout everything, these two guys behind me didn't stop calling everyone they knew, telling them where and how happy they were. History is worth the roaming charges, no doubt.

(and speaking of cameos, how about it for my forehead, ladies and gentlemen!)

These girls were actually kind of screechy and annoying, but all the guys around them still kept on encouraging them to cheer...and jump...and bounce.

You know what, New York? Between Halloween and the Marathon and the Election, this was actually a pretty cool trip. It was fascinating, memorable and, of course, historic. I don't think anything can ruin this visit. Nothing here could be so cheap or crass or silly as to bring me dow. . .

Nope, not even your election condom salesmen. Nice try though.