More from the Thailand files: A roomy room

Silly as it may sound, I won't forget this recent Thailand trip because of one particular restroom. If I need to state the obvious, here goes: I have a thing for good public toilets. I even wrote guidelines a while back, mostly because I was sick of impractical and dirty restrooms and partly because I was at gunpoint. In a nutshell, I love ladies rooms that are clean, thoughtfully designed and unique. Who doesn't?

Anyway, we were at the Fly Now Outlet in Hua Hin, quietly going about our (mostly window) shopping, when my older sister excitedly announced that she had just been to THE BEST RESTROOM in the world. I practically ran to the stalls (because I really needed to go, not because I wanted to show my sisterly support). Martina, now-famous 4-year-old niece, quickly followed me.

When I saw the restroom, I understood my sister's elation. Although I wouldn't say it was the best ever, that particular one was a joy. I wanted to spend long and lazy hours in that room, with a good book or an iPhone app or two. Although the design and fixtures weren't exactly creative (that is, the toilet looked like a toilet and the sink looked like a sink), it was overwhelming in a good way. Here's a pic:

Tadaaaah! ... aaa ... aaa ... (toilet echo: one of man's worst enemies)

I'm telling you, this room was HUGE. I'm sure there are apartments in New York and Hong Kong that are smaller than this restroom. In my 'guidelines', I specified the need for 'reasonable leg room per cubicle'. The Fly Now restroom took it further and gave you the option to park your Ford Expedition inside the stall. I assumed the size was intentional though. After all, the outlet had extraordinarily gigantic (and very pink) guards, who hung out outside the building. I suppose even dinosaurs need to pee. (I'm trying to stop myself from imagining dino-poop. I'm failing, FYI.)

Pink Martina with the pink security guard

The cubicle was relatively empty, but the cold concrete walls and floor were softened by the two potted plants at the far end. The metal ceiling was high and each stall was open near the top. In effect, you could hear the 'activities' of your 'neighbors' if you listened carefully (I would be worried if you're the type who would actually want to listen. I know a good psychiatrist.) 

My favorite part about this minimalist restroom, apart from its cleanliness, was the long wooden bench that ran across the whole length of one of its walls. Martina's favorite, on the other hand, was that everything was within her tiny reach. She had already seen and used the restroom, which explained why she was only too happy to join me.

I wasn't expecting to get the royal treatment, but I felt like I had my own personal assistant as I went about my business. When I was ... um ... seated, Martina sat on the bench, directly in front of me, and we had a very pleasant conversation, given that we were in a rather unsanitary scenario. When I was done, Martina jumped off the bench and shouted, 'WAIT, I'LL GIVE YOU TISSUE, TITA ENG!!!' Thankfully, I was in a foreign country and there was little danger of being recognized on account of my name ricocheting off the cubicle walls. Martina also took care of flushing the toilet, opening and closing the tap, and giving me paper towels to dry my hands. I tipped her with a hug, but she wanted a Ralph Lauren sports coat. I would've given it if she had waxed the Expedition too.

So I've completely forgotten my point. 

Oh yes: Restroom! Big! Clean! Cute toilet attendant! Fun times!

The end. Or is it? (Tan dan daaaaaaaaaan ... aaan ... aaan)

Thailand: An enlightening experience

Deep in the recesses of a Thailand mall, I discovered a precious secret that was kept successfully for ages and ages. Today, in this unholy hour, I bestow upon myself the responsibility of letting the world finally know how Hello Kitty stays as bright as light.

Sorry Hello Kitty, I had to do it. 

Of course, Hello Kitty is not known for selfishness and hoarding. Apparently, she shares her beauty products with her cousins in Safari World ...

Hello, Kitty. Stay ... stay ...

and some really REALLY distant (and creepy) relatives.

STAY ... STAAAAAAAY!!!

At least the flamingoes weren't into the whole peer pressure scene. They took the opposite route and went crazy with some Stabilo (am I circa or what?). Highlighter parteh!!!

Why am I having med school flashbacks?

There you have it. Another edgy photojournalistic piece from me. I'm sure this would've been better if I had some kind of photography or editing talent, or maybe a smidgen of sense. To make up for it, here's (a younger) Martina impersonating you-know-who. Because a smiling child makes everything better.

Thailand: A fruity preview

Just came back from spending the holidays with my family in Thailand. Lots to share but so little time. For now, here's a 'giant' teaser:

May our 2011 be larger than life!

happy anniversary, mama and dad

without much introduction (or creative titles), here is a short and very incomplete list of what i love the most about mama and dad.

mama and dad on their 42nd wedding anniversary

• when i first moved out of my home temporarily to live near my med school in the heart of manila, they surprised me one weekend by showing up with a bag of cheese clover. i cried shamelessly when they left.

• when i found out i passed the medical boards in the wee hours of the morning, i woke them up and they both literally jumped out of bed to hug me even if they were just half-awake.

• dad walks around like a sad little puppy when mama is not around. the first time she started traveling a lot for work, he got sick so often that i wanted to beg mama to retire and just stay home to keep dad healthy.

• dad always makes handmade posters for every anniversary and every birthday. he makes anniversary posters twice a year: one for their wedding day and one for when they first became a couple (presumably).

i never said dad was the best speller

• they still hold hands sometimes but don't make a big show of it. maybe dad just does it so mama doesn't wander off.

• mama and dad never gave me hell for not practicing (unlike some people who had nothing to do with my existence). my parents still don't know exactly what i do for a living but they never bug me about my choices. 

• and speaking of choices, they also never pressure me about boyfriends or marriage or work or money or weight. the only time mama comments on my appearance is when she wants to borrow my clothes.

• mama is the cutest tennis player (in real life and playing wii) with the highest first-serve percentage (in real life) for someone with zero follow-through. dad blames her when they lose but she doesn't care. i love mama for not caring (however, she MIGHT care that i posted this video without her permission).

• by example, dad taught me the value of being punctual and organized and responsible. mama, on the other hand, taught me that being flawed, making mistakes and going with the flow can be perfectly okay.

• they gave me a strange nickname, which (i am now realizing) is a good reminder for me to never take myself too seriously. 

• they provide very good blog fodder.

with their grandkids, who, by the way, also give me reason to blog

my parents got married on december 21, 1968. they met me on september 1, 1973. that's 37 years of me being grateful.

boracay in the eyes of a local beauty expert

a boracay pic completely unrelated to the story below

this is a story set in boracay (ok, maybe the pic is slightly related), during the wedding reception of two good friends, who had no idea about what was going on while they were celebrating their happiest night.

relieved after having fulfilled our duties as an amateur choir at the wedding ceremony, about five of my friends and i found our assigned table at nami, the reception venue. it was a great spot at a fantastic resort, and so conveniently near the extravagant buffet.

we all settled into our seats and waited for the program and the eating to begin. without warning, a lady descended upon our table and exclaimed,

"hi guys!!! i'm claire*!!! i'm going to sit here with you! i'll be back, OK, guys!?"

(*not her real name. i'm not that brave. to my friends who were there: get it? claire? wink wink.)

because of her excitement and familiarity, i thought my friends knew her. i asked them who she was, and they were all clueless. we surmised that she was the newlyweds' family friend who would double as the host that night. we found out soon after she sat back down that 1) she was the makeup artist, and 2) she wasn't a she.

it was hard to focus on anything else that transpired at the table that night. claire was sitting right beside me so i distinctly remember her plunging neckline, low enough to distract me, a certified female. many times i wanted to warn her that her boob was going to pop out but decided against it, thinking that it could've been intentional.

claire was so enthusiastic and outspoken that she made us – friends who have known each other for over 10 years – feel like the outsiders. all throughout dinner, she regaled us with stories of her overseas travel and rich friends, and of how she was a favored makeup artist in boracay. every now and then, she also offered free makeup advice.

bing, one of my girlfriends at the table, genuinely felt that she needed tips, so she asked claire about the best brand of foundation. claire was only too happy to lecture:

"you know, i've tried aaaall the imported brands and i still think the best one is san san. there are three shades of san san foundation, from 1, that's the lightest shade, to 3, the darkest shade ...

you, bing, you're a 1. actually, your skin is so fair and smooth, you really don't need foundation ...

as for YOU (and this was when she pointed her wicked yet manicured finger at me, while i was peacefully concentrating on my appetizers, pleased to be out of their conversation), you're a 3. blaaaack beauty."

thanks, claire.

shade 1 (left) and shade 3 (right) at the chapel,
taken 3 years and so many pounds ago

after declaring she was hungry, claire left us abruptly to get food before everyone else could attack the buffet. we were all dumbstruck at the table, looking like disheveled victims of typhoon claire. i think it took us a while before we spoke again, realizing that claire was not the only one with the gift of speech.

claire returned to the table with her plate piled high with steak and prawns, and she started raving about the food.

"you know this place really has the best food in all of boracay! look at this. WOW. this is really wow."

claire then sliced her steak, took her first bite and closed her eyes, obviously enraptured. no one dared to interrupt.

"mmmmm ... mmmmmmmmm ... it's like a butter!!!"

everyone at the table simultaneously looked away or down or up or behind, just to suppress a reaction. i found out much later that there was also a lot of kicking going on under the table. meanwhile, because i didn't want to be rude, i continued what i hoped was a normal conversation with my new pal claire. and guess what, the steak really turned out to be amazing.

i'll never forget 'claire' and how she stole the show that night. maybe someday i WILL try san san foundation (yes, yes, number 3 for me, of course). if we can't trust people who are passionate about beauty, boracay and butter, then who can we trust?

oh and happy anniversary, r&r! it was an unforgettable night.