Here is a quick video I made after my first ten days of the trip!
Monday, June 30, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
Settling for Good ("Good" = Five Weeks)
We moved into our apartments today and I am so relieved to finally have my own space that I nearly cried. I could not stop grinning when I saw that I landed the only - yes, read ONLY - single bedroom with a queen sized bed and tv. I have my own closet space, nice clean floors, and pretty, colorful decorations on the wall.
Our first accomodations during orientation at UP were okay. We had enough space to survive, but we were in tight quarters, unable to unpack, and living off of restaurants and fast-ish kind of foods, and snacks stuffed in our bags. Here in our apartments we have our own kitchens, working showers with optional heaters for hot showers, and closets! Without being dramatic, I nearly squealed when I walked into our apartment. Finally, my suitcases are put away, my clothes are hung and I cooked for my roommates. A nice regular dinner - fresh baby corn, peppers, onions, garlic and squash sauteed with olive oil and soy sauce. Nice and light, for a change. My body thanked me.
Yesterday I went running again, trying to get to three miles and found it nearly impossible. There are two reasons why I don't think I'll get to my goal here. 1. The heat. I cannot describe the water spigot I have become since I came here. Whenever i wear I backpack, my entire back is drenched in sweat. It's like I'm wearing a sweater or something if I put a layer of clothing over my skin. Being this close to the equator is just unreal. 2. The pollution. The pollution here makes Los Angeles feel like a walk in the park. My chest actually hurt from the pollution when I ran and by no means am I a fast runner. Some of my friends went running together and no one could make it to their usual pace or mileage. You can FEEL the pollution in the air, it sits on my skin, glued on by the humidity, and fogs my brain with its potency.
We had our first week of classes and my head is spinning with ideas, reflections, and questions. The lectures have been taught by world renouned poets and activists, scholars and sociologists, peasant farmers and professors. I am in intellectual heaven. I truly believe that as one ages, it is critical to keep your mind stimulated with as much rigor as possible. It's so easy to become consumed with mind-numbing things. (How many nights did I spend watching Tila Tequila on MTV?) I saw yesterday that the PI president, Gloria Arroyo was actually in the US visiting with Bush. Before this blog turns into my political pulpit, I will just say that it is unreal to read the mainstream media's take on issues and then meet the people themselves and what they are going through. Small examples: the rice crisis, agriculture workers making $0.17/day, a mother of five burst into tears crying when my friend Kim tipped her $12, and starving children in the streets. Arroyo is not popular, not in my book anyway. Note: end pulpit rant.
Onto lighter things flopping around in my head: it's been a long time since I have been in community, living in community specifically and it is quite an adjustment. The group, as I said before, comprises 9 people aging from 18-35 with 1 male and 8 females. I've forgotten that when you eat, sleep next to, travel, attend classes, and live with 8 other people decisions are slower, things take longer, and chaos is never but two feet away.
It's saying a lot that 1. I'm considered the most decisive and mathematically articulate one in the group 2. I'm handling the money 3. I'm usually one of the fastest walkers 4. I'm annoyed with other people's indecision
If you know me at all, all four of those statements should be stunning to you as you read them. But, that's the role I have taken in the program. The group dynamic leaves much need for organization and for me to say that things need to be running more on time, you know it's getting out of control.
I'm the third oldest in the group and am often called Ate ("ah-teh") by the younger students in the group. Ate is a word which translates into "older sister," and is a sign of respect when someone is older than you. So, as Ate Lisa, I have already talked to some of the young ones who are still teenagers about respecting our professors by not falling asleep (which ten years ago, I was the WORST with) and guiding their perspectives by pushing them to delve deeper into the issues and culture here. And I cooked dinner for everyone, too. I'm like a "mom" of the group. I keep things in line, which is a different role for me, but I like it. A lot. It's needed.
_______________________________
Magandang umaga po! Good morning!
It's now 8 hour later. After I wrote the last sentence in the previous paragraph, I laid back to think and fell asleep!
So, now it's Saturday morning and we're getting ready for a full day of language classes, weekly reflections and assessment, and tomorrow we are OFF! Last night was the first day in a week that I got seven hours of sleep. Every night I have gotten about five, six maximum. I feel much more rested and less like I'm functioning off of adrenaline. Amazing what an apartment with all the small comforts of home can do!
Our first accomodations during orientation at UP were okay. We had enough space to survive, but we were in tight quarters, unable to unpack, and living off of restaurants and fast-ish kind of foods, and snacks stuffed in our bags. Here in our apartments we have our own kitchens, working showers with optional heaters for hot showers, and closets! Without being dramatic, I nearly squealed when I walked into our apartment. Finally, my suitcases are put away, my clothes are hung and I cooked for my roommates. A nice regular dinner - fresh baby corn, peppers, onions, garlic and squash sauteed with olive oil and soy sauce. Nice and light, for a change. My body thanked me.
Yesterday I went running again, trying to get to three miles and found it nearly impossible. There are two reasons why I don't think I'll get to my goal here. 1. The heat. I cannot describe the water spigot I have become since I came here. Whenever i wear I backpack, my entire back is drenched in sweat. It's like I'm wearing a sweater or something if I put a layer of clothing over my skin. Being this close to the equator is just unreal. 2. The pollution. The pollution here makes Los Angeles feel like a walk in the park. My chest actually hurt from the pollution when I ran and by no means am I a fast runner. Some of my friends went running together and no one could make it to their usual pace or mileage. You can FEEL the pollution in the air, it sits on my skin, glued on by the humidity, and fogs my brain with its potency.
We had our first week of classes and my head is spinning with ideas, reflections, and questions. The lectures have been taught by world renouned poets and activists, scholars and sociologists, peasant farmers and professors. I am in intellectual heaven. I truly believe that as one ages, it is critical to keep your mind stimulated with as much rigor as possible. It's so easy to become consumed with mind-numbing things. (How many nights did I spend watching Tila Tequila on MTV?) I saw yesterday that the PI president, Gloria Arroyo was actually in the US visiting with Bush. Before this blog turns into my political pulpit, I will just say that it is unreal to read the mainstream media's take on issues and then meet the people themselves and what they are going through. Small examples: the rice crisis, agriculture workers making $0.17/day, a mother of five burst into tears crying when my friend Kim tipped her $12, and starving children in the streets. Arroyo is not popular, not in my book anyway. Note: end pulpit rant.
Onto lighter things flopping around in my head: it's been a long time since I have been in community, living in community specifically and it is quite an adjustment. The group, as I said before, comprises 9 people aging from 18-35 with 1 male and 8 females. I've forgotten that when you eat, sleep next to, travel, attend classes, and live with 8 other people decisions are slower, things take longer, and chaos is never but two feet away.
It's saying a lot that 1. I'm considered the most decisive and mathematically articulate one in the group 2. I'm handling the money 3. I'm usually one of the fastest walkers 4. I'm annoyed with other people's indecision
If you know me at all, all four of those statements should be stunning to you as you read them. But, that's the role I have taken in the program. The group dynamic leaves much need for organization and for me to say that things need to be running more on time, you know it's getting out of control.
I'm the third oldest in the group and am often called Ate ("ah-teh") by the younger students in the group. Ate is a word which translates into "older sister," and is a sign of respect when someone is older than you. So, as Ate Lisa, I have already talked to some of the young ones who are still teenagers about respecting our professors by not falling asleep (which ten years ago, I was the WORST with) and guiding their perspectives by pushing them to delve deeper into the issues and culture here. And I cooked dinner for everyone, too. I'm like a "mom" of the group. I keep things in line, which is a different role for me, but I like it. A lot. It's needed.
_______________________________
Magandang umaga po! Good morning!
It's now 8 hour later. After I wrote the last sentence in the previous paragraph, I laid back to think and fell asleep!
So, now it's Saturday morning and we're getting ready for a full day of language classes, weekly reflections and assessment, and tomorrow we are OFF! Last night was the first day in a week that I got seven hours of sleep. Every night I have gotten about five, six maximum. I feel much more rested and less like I'm functioning off of adrenaline. Amazing what an apartment with all the small comforts of home can do!
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Typhoons, Falling Mangos, and Identity
I survived my first typhoon.
Sunday, my second night in the PI, I awoke to hear random loud noises banging on the roof and the roar of the wind that I have never heard before. It was a typhoon. I found out later from my uncle that the random banging noise was mangos falling from the tree.
I awoke in the morning to find two of my cousins still splashing in the pool in the back. There's a typhoon. They're in a pool. I stared at them for a few minutes and discovered, apparently, this is not unusual. I certainly do not want to disrespect their leisure activities, but I wanted to yell, "Dude - there's a TYPHOON going on. Get out of the pool!"
The typhoon flooded many parts of Manila and surrounding provinces, but the area I am in was fine, except for trees falling, and my first brownout (when all the electricity goes out). I love that they call them brownouts instead of blackouts.
I went to church with my uncle that morning and sat in a big beautiful church. During the petitions the electricity went out and the roar of the wind got even louder. It phased no one. Well, except me. My eyes darted to the open windows and swaying chandeliers. My prayers were fervent.
On Monday, my cousins dropped me off at my dormitory at the University of the Philippines (UP) where I met the other members of the group. It was then I heard that 4 others dropped out at last minute and there was only 9 of us total. Only one is male. Phillipe is on this trip with 8 other women, ages 18-35. It's quite a mix, but we get along fantastically. Navigating the city and UP is always an adventure.
Our orientation consisted of reviewing our schedules and getting our bearings of the campus. The group teases me incessantly by saying I am too uptight about germs, safety, and cleanliness. I packed up my laptop and camera with me everywhere we go. (Hello, like I would leave my digital SLR anywhere without me?) I don't drink the ice, tap water, or eat salads in the restaurants. They laugh and say I'm paranoid. I just shake my head when they drink the tap water with ice. If they knew what a parasite in your stomach feels like that won't leave for 3 days, they wouldn't be so careless. I went through that seven years ago and some days I believe I have not yet psychologically recovered from how many trips to the bathroom I made in a 3-day span.
I went to Nicaragua for three months in 2000 and returned twice since then. My experiences there are affording me invaluable knowledge and confidence as I navigate a new country with similar economic struggles and political history. The PI is a tropical country with beautiful landscapes and people. Their problems, as I am learning, are complex and interrelated to the US and its policies. Today was our first day of lectures and classes and the intellectual stimulation has been remarkable. The classes are taught by world renowned poets, top professors, and experienced sociologists who keep me writing, thinking, and questioning. I am finding this experience to be as transformative as I had hoped, and it's only been the first day of class!
Last night, the group went to the Mall of Asia, which is, as you can guess, the largest mall in all of Asia - what creativity went into naming this place! The PI is ironically known for its gigantic malls and commercialization, but I wasn't ready for the mall of Asia. It was so enormous, there's no way to describe it over a computer. Inside, I was able to exchange money, 43 pesos for every dollar. As you can imagine, the dollar goes a long way. It took forever to get a taxi, but when we got a driver, it cost $5 for a 15-20 minute drive. There were five of us in the car. My Boston ears couldn't believe it. I nearly flipped with joy. A ten minute ride in Boston is nearly $30!
UP is a huge campus and we took a tour, by foot, that covered about a quarter of the campus and three hours of our lives. I nearly fell asleep in the grass by the end. The heat is hard to transition, even though it was summer in the US when I left, being this close to the equator is something else. Kris, another member of the group, and I were up at 6am (not unusual when the sun rises so early) and went for a light jog. We weren't even jogging for 10 minutes when we looked at each other and saw that we were drenched in sweat. Our legs looked like faucets and our arms like brown Slip and Slides. But, it felt good to get some fitness in our day. It's waaaaay too easy to sit in our air conditioned rooms after eating a wonderful meal for $1.25.
On Friday, we'll be moving into our apartments, which are a few minutes off campus. There we will have WIFI and a land line. We're all eager to have regular internet access. Everyone can tell we're from the US when we ask people where we can set up our laptops to check our emails and blog about our travels.
I am pretty much adjusted to the time change, but not quite yet. I'm sleeping well, but wake up once or twice to itch my bug bites. I wake up relatively early, sometime between 5am-6am. (Nick probably read that sentence twice.) I'm VERY ready to get into my apartment, unpack and have my own permanent space. (Err, permanent means the next 6 weeks). The more I am exposed to, the more I am learning, the more 6 weeks seems so brief. There's so much beauty and richness to this country and I'm so proud this is my parents' homeland. And I give myself a pat on my back for having made this pilgrimage myself.
Growing up Filipino in the US, a child of immigration, is an in-depth consuming journey of self-identity. It encompasses constant reflection and self-analysis. It is quite an remarkable experience to be in a country where I look just like everyone else. The reflection of myself in this country is...what's the right word?....unfathomable. It is the experience I have been waiting for and wanting my entire life: to passionately understand with clarity and awareness, who I am, who my family is, and where I have come from. Few are able to make a journey such as this. Few even ask questions such as this. I feel very graced and blessed to experience this. The questions that I have held, long in my heart, are surfacing each minute I am here.
I am finding myself.
Sunday, my second night in the PI, I awoke to hear random loud noises banging on the roof and the roar of the wind that I have never heard before. It was a typhoon. I found out later from my uncle that the random banging noise was mangos falling from the tree.
I awoke in the morning to find two of my cousins still splashing in the pool in the back. There's a typhoon. They're in a pool. I stared at them for a few minutes and discovered, apparently, this is not unusual. I certainly do not want to disrespect their leisure activities, but I wanted to yell, "Dude - there's a TYPHOON going on. Get out of the pool!"
The typhoon flooded many parts of Manila and surrounding provinces, but the area I am in was fine, except for trees falling, and my first brownout (when all the electricity goes out). I love that they call them brownouts instead of blackouts.
I went to church with my uncle that morning and sat in a big beautiful church. During the petitions the electricity went out and the roar of the wind got even louder. It phased no one. Well, except me. My eyes darted to the open windows and swaying chandeliers. My prayers were fervent.
On Monday, my cousins dropped me off at my dormitory at the University of the Philippines (UP) where I met the other members of the group. It was then I heard that 4 others dropped out at last minute and there was only 9 of us total. Only one is male. Phillipe is on this trip with 8 other women, ages 18-35. It's quite a mix, but we get along fantastically. Navigating the city and UP is always an adventure.
Our orientation consisted of reviewing our schedules and getting our bearings of the campus. The group teases me incessantly by saying I am too uptight about germs, safety, and cleanliness. I packed up my laptop and camera with me everywhere we go. (Hello, like I would leave my digital SLR anywhere without me?) I don't drink the ice, tap water, or eat salads in the restaurants. They laugh and say I'm paranoid. I just shake my head when they drink the tap water with ice. If they knew what a parasite in your stomach feels like that won't leave for 3 days, they wouldn't be so careless. I went through that seven years ago and some days I believe I have not yet psychologically recovered from how many trips to the bathroom I made in a 3-day span.
I went to Nicaragua for three months in 2000 and returned twice since then. My experiences there are affording me invaluable knowledge and confidence as I navigate a new country with similar economic struggles and political history. The PI is a tropical country with beautiful landscapes and people. Their problems, as I am learning, are complex and interrelated to the US and its policies. Today was our first day of lectures and classes and the intellectual stimulation has been remarkable. The classes are taught by world renowned poets, top professors, and experienced sociologists who keep me writing, thinking, and questioning. I am finding this experience to be as transformative as I had hoped, and it's only been the first day of class!
Last night, the group went to the Mall of Asia, which is, as you can guess, the largest mall in all of Asia - what creativity went into naming this place! The PI is ironically known for its gigantic malls and commercialization, but I wasn't ready for the mall of Asia. It was so enormous, there's no way to describe it over a computer. Inside, I was able to exchange money, 43 pesos for every dollar. As you can imagine, the dollar goes a long way. It took forever to get a taxi, but when we got a driver, it cost $5 for a 15-20 minute drive. There were five of us in the car. My Boston ears couldn't believe it. I nearly flipped with joy. A ten minute ride in Boston is nearly $30!
UP is a huge campus and we took a tour, by foot, that covered about a quarter of the campus and three hours of our lives. I nearly fell asleep in the grass by the end. The heat is hard to transition, even though it was summer in the US when I left, being this close to the equator is something else. Kris, another member of the group, and I were up at 6am (not unusual when the sun rises so early) and went for a light jog. We weren't even jogging for 10 minutes when we looked at each other and saw that we were drenched in sweat. Our legs looked like faucets and our arms like brown Slip and Slides. But, it felt good to get some fitness in our day. It's waaaaay too easy to sit in our air conditioned rooms after eating a wonderful meal for $1.25.
On Friday, we'll be moving into our apartments, which are a few minutes off campus. There we will have WIFI and a land line. We're all eager to have regular internet access. Everyone can tell we're from the US when we ask people where we can set up our laptops to check our emails and blog about our travels.
I am pretty much adjusted to the time change, but not quite yet. I'm sleeping well, but wake up once or twice to itch my bug bites. I wake up relatively early, sometime between 5am-6am. (Nick probably read that sentence twice.) I'm VERY ready to get into my apartment, unpack and have my own permanent space. (Err, permanent means the next 6 weeks). The more I am exposed to, the more I am learning, the more 6 weeks seems so brief. There's so much beauty and richness to this country and I'm so proud this is my parents' homeland. And I give myself a pat on my back for having made this pilgrimage myself.
Growing up Filipino in the US, a child of immigration, is an in-depth consuming journey of self-identity. It encompasses constant reflection and self-analysis. It is quite an remarkable experience to be in a country where I look just like everyone else. The reflection of myself in this country is...what's the right word?....unfathomable. It is the experience I have been waiting for and wanting my entire life: to passionately understand with clarity and awareness, who I am, who my family is, and where I have come from. Few are able to make a journey such as this. Few even ask questions such as this. I feel very graced and blessed to experience this. The questions that I have held, long in my heart, are surfacing each minute I am here.
I am finding myself.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Across the World
I made it.
I'm in the Philippines. Specifically, I am in the capital city, Manila.
I'll put this out there right now so you are aware - I'm so jetlagged, I can barely walk straight. But I have found my way to a computer and just wanted to write that I am well, happy, and slowly getting aligned with the time change.
The Philippines is 12 hours ahead of Eastern standard time. As I write this, it's about 10pm on Saturday evening, so it should be about 10am Saturday morning in the US.
My travels began with a 24 hour traveling period, layovers included. Chicago was a breeze, naturally, but it was the flight to Japan that messed me up pretty bad. I has a window seat and was next to a very friendly young woman who repeatedly asked me to help her with her television screen (we all had our own). I was not much help, particularly when I was engrossed in watching The Other Boelyn Girl (very good movie, by the way).
The only problem is when she fell asleep for six hours and I, unusually, could not fall asleep. She had the aisle seat, so I had to get creative when I wanted to stretch my legs. I practically threw my right leg over the seat in front of me to get my blood flowing. My seat was in the back corner of the plane with no one behind me, so for about an hour, I perched on my knees and did quasi-yoga stretches in my seat. I felt fine until the last two hours of the flight. My feet looked like two basketballs, they swelled so much. I was worried until I saw other flip-flop wearing travelers and discovered other basketballed sized feet next to me.
Arriving in Manila was interesting. Customs was a breeze, but I was worrying about finding my Uncle and cousins. I didn't worry too much when I was walking slowly down the ramp when I spotted someone looking eagerly at me. I tentatively smiled back and then he screamed, "LISAAAAAA!" I thought that was quite a Factora thing to do, so I trusted that was my cousin George. I was right, he led me to my Uncle, who was waiting with a very air conditioned car. (Nice.)
To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the year. Nearly everyone here in Manila speaks English, but going anywhere unfamiliar is always anxiety provoking and stressful. My family here, most of whom I have just met for the first time, has been more than welcoming and friendly. My Uncle, who runs a construction company, he built his home 30 years ago here in Manila and it is so beautiful. This morning, I sat with my Auntie Ina, and talked government, politics and updated her on the US presidential campaign while I ate fresh mango and listened to the rain. Not many mornings can be that beautiful.
I took two naps today. The first for an hour, the second for four. I never intended to fall asleep, let alone twice, but my body still feels like it's in Boston, or Cleveland, or wherever time is set on the other side of the world. I've woken up in five or six different places in the past two weeks and my brain has been utterly confused in my warped life as of late. I woke up this morning and thought, "Now, where the heck am I? Is Nick already up?"
It's going to be hard to blog about, aka update you on Nick, when we are apart for these next two months. What I can say is that our goodbye at the airport was awful. I cried like a big baby and could barely control my tear ducts. Such a pitiful sight, the ticketing agent had to pause the line to get me some tissues because I was crying so hard. Oh, I must have looked awesome.
Separation is never fun, but Nick was and is his usual supportive self; always looking on the bright side, encouraging me to remember the reasons why I applied for the program in the first place, and reminding me how temporary the situation is in the big picture of our life together. Our last few days together were spent moving into our new home, where I was able to make memories for about two and a half days before I left. My concept of home is wherever Nick is and I find myself thanking God, repeatedly, for such a supportive and loving partner.
So far, the only small things that have posed problems has been the very loud rooster that runs around the land and occasionally through the house. Not even my earplugs can drown that thing. Holy cow, it's the loudest thing I've ever heard. Also, there is Lucky, one of the few dogs around the house. This thing has got eyes the size of UFOs. He stares at me intently and I try to ignore him, and his smell. I gently kicked him out of the way when my other Auntie was making her way onto the porch in her wheelchair. The kick felt justified because he was in her way. I think the Borchers anti-dog sentiments might have rubbed off on me.
My family here is inquisitive about Nick, my Borchers family, and what my life in the US is like. I'm showing them pictures and explain where everyone is. Sometimes they get so eager to hear my stories, they cut me off and finish my sentence before I'm through. Here's an example. My cousin Paulo is a lawyer here and works for a firm doing litigation. I share, "My sister in law, Kelly, is a lawyer too - Nick's sister. She works for the government." Before I can explain she works in Columbus, Ohio, my other cousins exclaim and tell my Uncle, "Kelly is a lawyer for the District Attorney in Washington, D.C.!"
I try to interject, "Oh, no, she doesn't work in -"
My Uncle, "Really! D.C?!" He speaks in Tagalog, which means he is impressed.
I give up after a few minutes of their talking about how Kelly works in D.C. Everyone in my family loves talking politics and we move on to the happenings in D.C., where, apparently, Kelly now works.
So, my first day has been quite eventful. Tomorrow, I check-in at the University of the Philippines where I will be staying for the next six weeks of my program. I'm excited to continue to adjust to my new surroundings and even more excited for my body to get with it and adjust to the time change.
Love from Manila!
I'm in the Philippines. Specifically, I am in the capital city, Manila.
I'll put this out there right now so you are aware - I'm so jetlagged, I can barely walk straight. But I have found my way to a computer and just wanted to write that I am well, happy, and slowly getting aligned with the time change.
The Philippines is 12 hours ahead of Eastern standard time. As I write this, it's about 10pm on Saturday evening, so it should be about 10am Saturday morning in the US.
My travels began with a 24 hour traveling period, layovers included. Chicago was a breeze, naturally, but it was the flight to Japan that messed me up pretty bad. I has a window seat and was next to a very friendly young woman who repeatedly asked me to help her with her television screen (we all had our own). I was not much help, particularly when I was engrossed in watching The Other Boelyn Girl (very good movie, by the way).
The only problem is when she fell asleep for six hours and I, unusually, could not fall asleep. She had the aisle seat, so I had to get creative when I wanted to stretch my legs. I practically threw my right leg over the seat in front of me to get my blood flowing. My seat was in the back corner of the plane with no one behind me, so for about an hour, I perched on my knees and did quasi-yoga stretches in my seat. I felt fine until the last two hours of the flight. My feet looked like two basketballs, they swelled so much. I was worried until I saw other flip-flop wearing travelers and discovered other basketballed sized feet next to me.
Arriving in Manila was interesting. Customs was a breeze, but I was worrying about finding my Uncle and cousins. I didn't worry too much when I was walking slowly down the ramp when I spotted someone looking eagerly at me. I tentatively smiled back and then he screamed, "LISAAAAAA!" I thought that was quite a Factora thing to do, so I trusted that was my cousin George. I was right, he led me to my Uncle, who was waiting with a very air conditioned car. (Nice.)
To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the year. Nearly everyone here in Manila speaks English, but going anywhere unfamiliar is always anxiety provoking and stressful. My family here, most of whom I have just met for the first time, has been more than welcoming and friendly. My Uncle, who runs a construction company, he built his home 30 years ago here in Manila and it is so beautiful. This morning, I sat with my Auntie Ina, and talked government, politics and updated her on the US presidential campaign while I ate fresh mango and listened to the rain. Not many mornings can be that beautiful.
I took two naps today. The first for an hour, the second for four. I never intended to fall asleep, let alone twice, but my body still feels like it's in Boston, or Cleveland, or wherever time is set on the other side of the world. I've woken up in five or six different places in the past two weeks and my brain has been utterly confused in my warped life as of late. I woke up this morning and thought, "Now, where the heck am I? Is Nick already up?"
It's going to be hard to blog about, aka update you on Nick, when we are apart for these next two months. What I can say is that our goodbye at the airport was awful. I cried like a big baby and could barely control my tear ducts. Such a pitiful sight, the ticketing agent had to pause the line to get me some tissues because I was crying so hard. Oh, I must have looked awesome.
Separation is never fun, but Nick was and is his usual supportive self; always looking on the bright side, encouraging me to remember the reasons why I applied for the program in the first place, and reminding me how temporary the situation is in the big picture of our life together. Our last few days together were spent moving into our new home, where I was able to make memories for about two and a half days before I left. My concept of home is wherever Nick is and I find myself thanking God, repeatedly, for such a supportive and loving partner.
So far, the only small things that have posed problems has been the very loud rooster that runs around the land and occasionally through the house. Not even my earplugs can drown that thing. Holy cow, it's the loudest thing I've ever heard. Also, there is Lucky, one of the few dogs around the house. This thing has got eyes the size of UFOs. He stares at me intently and I try to ignore him, and his smell. I gently kicked him out of the way when my other Auntie was making her way onto the porch in her wheelchair. The kick felt justified because he was in her way. I think the Borchers anti-dog sentiments might have rubbed off on me.
My family here is inquisitive about Nick, my Borchers family, and what my life in the US is like. I'm showing them pictures and explain where everyone is. Sometimes they get so eager to hear my stories, they cut me off and finish my sentence before I'm through. Here's an example. My cousin Paulo is a lawyer here and works for a firm doing litigation. I share, "My sister in law, Kelly, is a lawyer too - Nick's sister. She works for the government." Before I can explain she works in Columbus, Ohio, my other cousins exclaim and tell my Uncle, "Kelly is a lawyer for the District Attorney in Washington, D.C.!"
I try to interject, "Oh, no, she doesn't work in -"
My Uncle, "Really! D.C?!" He speaks in Tagalog, which means he is impressed.
I give up after a few minutes of their talking about how Kelly works in D.C. Everyone in my family loves talking politics and we move on to the happenings in D.C., where, apparently, Kelly now works.
So, my first day has been quite eventful. Tomorrow, I check-in at the University of the Philippines where I will be staying for the next six weeks of my program. I'm excited to continue to adjust to my new surroundings and even more excited for my body to get with it and adjust to the time change.
Love from Manila!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
The Adrenaline of Moving and Goodbye
So, Keith was the good brother and flew out to Boston a few days before our move to help us drive back to Ohio. I admire family sacrifice like that - Bravo Keith!
Our last days in Boston were busy, naturally, and overwhelming to me. As excited I was for the new house, Nick's new job, and my upcoming trip, the sadness began it's descent into my urban loving heart. A highrise apartment across the street from Boston Common is not exactly something that is easy to say goodbye to...the city is always exciting and the summertime is the most Awesome (yes, with a capital 'A') time of year there. The festivals, beach, concerts, and outdoor events are countless each week.
The last few days we were there, it was like the city was showing off. Boston was spilling with political and awareness marches, block parties, and warm weather. While I enjoyed one last night at my favorite bar, Flash's, with friends, I spent the majority of the time finishing up work and packing things that I no longer want but can't bring myself to give away or throw out.
It's always a marvel when a person moves to see how much stuff you think is necessary to exist; how much you surround yourself with. Every time I move (which is every year), I try and simplify my life and keep only the clothes I regulary use, pack only what I will reasonably want to physically carry, and throw out anything I haven't used in a year.
The only thing in that pile was a turquoise turtleneck and a striped bedsheet.
I need less strict criteria.
"If I haven't thought about using this for two years, it's going to the Donate pile."
By the end of packing, there was only a handful of clothes and one pair of socks. Pathetic.
Sunday morning, Boston cried big fat rain drops because it knew Nick and I were leaving and wanted to make it difficult. We persevered with Nick's organization and planned strategies. Anytime we have big projects like moving that require much activity and energy, I swear there's a wild look in Nick's eyes where he becomes so focused and determined I feel like I should just flatten myself against a wall and stay out of his way. It's admirable, but a bit scary. He picks up boxes and furniture items that are too heavy for one person to carry and takes fast strides toward the door like we only have 10 more minutes before we have to leave. Not surprisingly, I am much more relaxed with the schedule and sip my purple Gatorade.
I comment to him, "You have that wild look in your eyes."
"I just want to get things done," he smiles while he looks around the room like he wants to wrestle everything.
"You always get like this when we move."
"The focus is a Borchers specialty," he explains as if I've never met his family.
"Ya think?"
Our last days in Boston were busy, naturally, and overwhelming to me. As excited I was for the new house, Nick's new job, and my upcoming trip, the sadness began it's descent into my urban loving heart. A highrise apartment across the street from Boston Common is not exactly something that is easy to say goodbye to...the city is always exciting and the summertime is the most Awesome (yes, with a capital 'A') time of year there. The festivals, beach, concerts, and outdoor events are countless each week.
The last few days we were there, it was like the city was showing off. Boston was spilling with political and awareness marches, block parties, and warm weather. While I enjoyed one last night at my favorite bar, Flash's, with friends, I spent the majority of the time finishing up work and packing things that I no longer want but can't bring myself to give away or throw out.
It's always a marvel when a person moves to see how much stuff you think is necessary to exist; how much you surround yourself with. Every time I move (which is every year), I try and simplify my life and keep only the clothes I regulary use, pack only what I will reasonably want to physically carry, and throw out anything I haven't used in a year.
The only thing in that pile was a turquoise turtleneck and a striped bedsheet.
I need less strict criteria.
"If I haven't thought about using this for two years, it's going to the Donate pile."
By the end of packing, there was only a handful of clothes and one pair of socks. Pathetic.
Sunday morning, Boston cried big fat rain drops because it knew Nick and I were leaving and wanted to make it difficult. We persevered with Nick's organization and planned strategies. Anytime we have big projects like moving that require much activity and energy, I swear there's a wild look in Nick's eyes where he becomes so focused and determined I feel like I should just flatten myself against a wall and stay out of his way. It's admirable, but a bit scary. He picks up boxes and furniture items that are too heavy for one person to carry and takes fast strides toward the door like we only have 10 more minutes before we have to leave. Not surprisingly, I am much more relaxed with the schedule and sip my purple Gatorade.
I comment to him, "You have that wild look in your eyes."
"I just want to get things done," he smiles while he looks around the room like he wants to wrestle everything.
"You always get like this when we move."
"The focus is a Borchers specialty," he explains as if I've never met his family.
"Ya think?"
Friday, June 13, 2008
Now THAT Was an Intense Trip: Part II
After a horrendous decision to eat a slider from White Castle at 4am, I fall into an exhausted sleep in Keith's room.
In the morning, I felt worse. Part of what made it psychologically overwhelming was the fact that Keith's room was bathed in red light. Since he had just moved into that space that the previous day, he didn't have much in way of decorations. There is one window in Keith's room and he had covered it, naturally, to prevent morning light from streaming in. In lieu of curtains, Keith had draped an OSU flag over the light and the red shading felt like I was seeing the world in anger. Everything was red.
Sparing you the details, I felt like my stomach hated me and anything I tried to offer it, including water, was rejected. (I'm sure the slider was not appreciated last night.)
But, we manage to get dressed and get on the road. We stop at a gas station so I can pick up Gatorade and Nick picks up the most disgusting cheeseburger inside the gas station. He drives while I unwrap it for him. The bread is stuck to the paper wrapping. One tug later, nearly half the bun was stuck to the covering. I almost puked just smelling it. The meat was a nauseating beige.
We get to Bellarmine and take a seat. We sit by the Creasons and I'm excited to be next to them so we can chat. I take one look at Nick's face as he is now 4 people removed from the aisle and I can sense anxiety in the air. Nick was going to be a server for the mass and we were going to be eucharistic ministers as well. He wanted easy access to the aisle.
"Do you want to move?" As if he would say no.
"Yeah, I just don't like -" He started explaining.
"No need to explain, I get it." I get up, apologize to the Creasons and we move to the very end of another pew. The relief is pouring out of Nick and he smiles like a 10 year old who just got his second serving of ice cream as we park ourselves in our new space in Bellarmine Chapel.
The mass goes smoothly and we help out with the Eucharist without any problems, except for the fact i felt like I needed to lie down the entire time. Afterward, he headed off to my friends' place, Mary Kay and Heather, to drop off wedding photos that I had taken of them in their ceremony we had attended in Florida.
About two months ago, Heather and Mary Kay asked Nick and I to join them in Florida for their big day and I, of course, couldn't resist being the photographer. Being the procrastinating photographer that I am, I was just giving them the CDs of their day two months later. We begin to drive up to the Kenwood mall area.
As we cruise through 71 North, Nick looks over at me, "Is there something wrong with our car?" Our rental is a black Mazda 3. The sound filling our car sounded like the airy noise of an axel problem, but I knew better.
I am unenthused with my knowledge, "Actually, we are now in Cicada Nation. Those horrific things, Goatee said, are everywhere, but especially prominent in the Kenwood area."
"No...are they really?"
"YES. I hate them." I slink in my seat because the thought of a cicada hitting me in the face made me even more nauseous. Our windshield is splattered like a Cicada memorial and I try not to look straight ahead. The obstinate heat of Cincinnati bakes the remnants on the car.
We make it to Heather and Mary Kay's even though I run from the car to the house as if there is a war going on with bombs and grenades everywhere.
After we drop off the CDs, we head to Colerain's BW3s where folks were passing time before the reception. As we slow at the exit off of the Ronald Reagan highway onto Colerain Avenue, I shake my head in wonder, "As we pull up to this area, there is not one inch of doubt in my head that I do NOT miss living in Colerain, or my commute to Miami..." Colerain is straight out a West Side textbook and we should have heeded the warnings not to live there three years ago. Oh well, no regrets. We'll just say that we learned a lot from Colerain about what we don't want in a future neighborhood.
BW3s is fun and uneventful with beer, oversized TVs, and UFC fights. We see some Xavier faces that we haven't seen in years. Books has taken off his sports coat to reveal his suspenders. The fun part of the wedding is beginning.
The toasts to Matt and Bella are hilarious and the evening unfolded without problems. Nick and his buds sang, "For the Longest Time," to Bella. The dancing begins and the reception goes flawlessly.
Of course we head to Dana's where I sleep in the car parked in the parking lot for the first 20 minutes. I'm so lame.
The next day we head out in separate directions, Nick to his friend Josh' birthday party and I go to the Ryans' new pad in Loveland for a lovely afternoon BBQ. Julie and Goatee's gorgeous new house looks like they are real adults; it's some serious space. I think about the college days of renting fixer uppers and eating macaroni and cheese. Life has definitely changed since 2001.
After a few hours Nick is there as well and we're all gathered to meet babies, eat BBQ, and talk. I'm so lame and fall asleep on the couch, fatigued.
We head back to Massillon and do closing paperwork on our house with a nice man named Norm. I have never had anything but love and devotion for my entire full name Ana Lisa Fernandez Factora-Borchers, that is, until you close on a house and you sign your name for 1 hour straight. Things definitely took longer because of my signature. Oh whale, that's life....
We had a great dinner at my brother's house because waking up Tuesday morning to head to Akron/Canton airport to fly back to Boston ONE LAST TIME.
This trip was jam packed with all kinds of events, but our adventures in moving were just beginning....
In the morning, I felt worse. Part of what made it psychologically overwhelming was the fact that Keith's room was bathed in red light. Since he had just moved into that space that the previous day, he didn't have much in way of decorations. There is one window in Keith's room and he had covered it, naturally, to prevent morning light from streaming in. In lieu of curtains, Keith had draped an OSU flag over the light and the red shading felt like I was seeing the world in anger. Everything was red.
Sparing you the details, I felt like my stomach hated me and anything I tried to offer it, including water, was rejected. (I'm sure the slider was not appreciated last night.)
But, we manage to get dressed and get on the road. We stop at a gas station so I can pick up Gatorade and Nick picks up the most disgusting cheeseburger inside the gas station. He drives while I unwrap it for him. The bread is stuck to the paper wrapping. One tug later, nearly half the bun was stuck to the covering. I almost puked just smelling it. The meat was a nauseating beige.
We get to Bellarmine and take a seat. We sit by the Creasons and I'm excited to be next to them so we can chat. I take one look at Nick's face as he is now 4 people removed from the aisle and I can sense anxiety in the air. Nick was going to be a server for the mass and we were going to be eucharistic ministers as well. He wanted easy access to the aisle.
"Do you want to move?" As if he would say no.
"Yeah, I just don't like -" He started explaining.
"No need to explain, I get it." I get up, apologize to the Creasons and we move to the very end of another pew. The relief is pouring out of Nick and he smiles like a 10 year old who just got his second serving of ice cream as we park ourselves in our new space in Bellarmine Chapel.
The mass goes smoothly and we help out with the Eucharist without any problems, except for the fact i felt like I needed to lie down the entire time. Afterward, he headed off to my friends' place, Mary Kay and Heather, to drop off wedding photos that I had taken of them in their ceremony we had attended in Florida.
About two months ago, Heather and Mary Kay asked Nick and I to join them in Florida for their big day and I, of course, couldn't resist being the photographer. Being the procrastinating photographer that I am, I was just giving them the CDs of their day two months later. We begin to drive up to the Kenwood mall area.
As we cruise through 71 North, Nick looks over at me, "Is there something wrong with our car?" Our rental is a black Mazda 3. The sound filling our car sounded like the airy noise of an axel problem, but I knew better.
I am unenthused with my knowledge, "Actually, we are now in Cicada Nation. Those horrific things, Goatee said, are everywhere, but especially prominent in the Kenwood area."
"No...are they really?"
"YES. I hate them." I slink in my seat because the thought of a cicada hitting me in the face made me even more nauseous. Our windshield is splattered like a Cicada memorial and I try not to look straight ahead. The obstinate heat of Cincinnati bakes the remnants on the car.
We make it to Heather and Mary Kay's even though I run from the car to the house as if there is a war going on with bombs and grenades everywhere.
After we drop off the CDs, we head to Colerain's BW3s where folks were passing time before the reception. As we slow at the exit off of the Ronald Reagan highway onto Colerain Avenue, I shake my head in wonder, "As we pull up to this area, there is not one inch of doubt in my head that I do NOT miss living in Colerain, or my commute to Miami..." Colerain is straight out a West Side textbook and we should have heeded the warnings not to live there three years ago. Oh well, no regrets. We'll just say that we learned a lot from Colerain about what we don't want in a future neighborhood.
BW3s is fun and uneventful with beer, oversized TVs, and UFC fights. We see some Xavier faces that we haven't seen in years. Books has taken off his sports coat to reveal his suspenders. The fun part of the wedding is beginning.
The toasts to Matt and Bella are hilarious and the evening unfolded without problems. Nick and his buds sang, "For the Longest Time," to Bella. The dancing begins and the reception goes flawlessly.
Of course we head to Dana's where I sleep in the car parked in the parking lot for the first 20 minutes. I'm so lame.
The next day we head out in separate directions, Nick to his friend Josh' birthday party and I go to the Ryans' new pad in Loveland for a lovely afternoon BBQ. Julie and Goatee's gorgeous new house looks like they are real adults; it's some serious space. I think about the college days of renting fixer uppers and eating macaroni and cheese. Life has definitely changed since 2001.
After a few hours Nick is there as well and we're all gathered to meet babies, eat BBQ, and talk. I'm so lame and fall asleep on the couch, fatigued.
We head back to Massillon and do closing paperwork on our house with a nice man named Norm. I have never had anything but love and devotion for my entire full name Ana Lisa Fernandez Factora-Borchers, that is, until you close on a house and you sign your name for 1 hour straight. Things definitely took longer because of my signature. Oh whale, that's life....
We had a great dinner at my brother's house because waking up Tuesday morning to head to Akron/Canton airport to fly back to Boston ONE LAST TIME.
This trip was jam packed with all kinds of events, but our adventures in moving were just beginning....
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Now THAT was an Intense Trip: Part I
I didn't sleep last night and now I am wandering, unblinking, in the Boston heat wondering how my body is functioning on no sleep and a few sips of Raspberry Lipton tea.
Nick and I just got back from the airport. We walked into our apartment and I had temporarily forgotten that our life here is almost over and is waiting to be shipped in brown boxes. Ugh...why bother unpacking?
So this is what happened...
On Thursday, June 5, we took an uneventful train ride to the airport with our bags so heavy, our arms were ready to fall off. Awesome - our flight is delayed three hours. I love American Airlines.
So, Nick is flustered because our gate has changed and while I am crooning to Whitney Houston's old school ballads, he is pacing the terminal, looking nervous. As he sits down, he's muttering, "I have a feeling we should be at the other gate and we're going to miss our flight."
I counter, "Didn't they just announce that we need to be at C42?"
"Yes."
"Aren't we at C42?"
"Yes."
"Then what's the problem, man?" It's odd being the logical one.
"I don't know. I'm going to check it out." He's off, taking long strides before he's even done talking.
I go back to my iPod.
Sometimes I think Nick would prefer for the world to be full of oversized signs and arrows, written in the sky so there are no questions when it comes to traveling and itineraries. Whenever we are in Dayon and there are enormous painted white arrows on the highway that point forward with huge 75 N above it, he grabs my hand, "I LOVE these things! So easy to read!"
I just shake my head.
Anyhoo -- we get on the plane and land in Akron without any other major obstacles.
We head to my brother's house where we need to pick up the key to my parents' house, where Nick and I are staying. It's late, after midnight, and Fran asks if Nick wants a homemade enchilada, "They're still warm, " he tempts Nick. Through the dark, I can see the hungry blue in his eyes. He smiles, "Well, if you make me...." and saunters off toward the kitchen.
As we chatter and catch up, we watch clips of one of my favorite movies, Rocky Balboa, while Nick passes out from his enchilada on the couch. Fran grumbles that the Celtics clinched Game 2 and that it should have been the Cavs, we leave for my parents' place.
An empty split level house, we make it through the door, thoroughly fatigued. We fall asleep pretty quickly, not even bothering to cover ourselves with blankets. Exhausted.
Friday, June 6
We wake up at the same time and immediately start talking.
"Do you hear that?" Nick smiles.
"Yes - it's been awhile since I've heard that."
"Birds singing. When was the last time we heard birds sing in the morning?" He stretches like a cheetah, taking up 90% of the bed.
"I'm used to the bus screeching, people yelling, a police siren - the usual."
Nick pauses, "I'm just used to this," he contorts his face into a hell ball and lets out a scream that sounds something like a cross between a lamb being slaughtered and a ten fingernails on a blackboard.
I laugh deliriously and know we are on a good path to moving to a place where we appreciate the quiet and simplicity of the morning wind.
We quickly shower and head back to my brother's house, Fran, to finally meet my newest nephew, Joseph Gaetano Factora, who was born last month. He is baby boy #3 and child #4 for Fran. It's getting to be a full house. After a few hours, we head up to Cleveland to finally see our house.
I have not yet seen our future home and entrusted Nick to see it several weeks prior. With nothing but online pictures to go on, I was more than eager to finally set my eyes on it. We pulled in and I gasped, I loved it.
A 1928, 4 bedroom, 2.5 bathrooms, and new kitchen home will be ours on Thursday. I adore it. End of story. We stop by St. Dominic (Nick's workplace) to drop off paperwork. We run into Nick's staff, who are more than warm, welcoming, and generous with tips, suggestions, and furniture.
We get on the road and I am deep in thought about our house and keep reassuring Nick my silence is more contemplative, not disappointment. I think he just wanted to make sure that I loved the house and he didn't want to hear anything else for the next 55 years of our life together about how I should never have trusted him to make the decision.
We change clothes at a gas station (classy) to get ready for Bella and Anderson's wedding rehearsal. We make it in time and it's fantastic to see everyone. The Ohio temperature is unreal. When we left Boston it was in the mid 60s and Cincinnati was dangerously close to triple digits.
I feel like a wilting flower.
My reminders to Nick that we need to purchase a GPS is confirmed as we take nearly 30minutes to get to Montgomery Inn. "Pete Rose Way is down this way...I think..."
What a debacle. A quick call to Keith helps us navigate to Sawyer Point and eventually to the Boathouse, aka Montgomery Inn; home of the best ribs and Saratoga chip uptopia.
It's the small things that throw Nick and I off. Things like valet. Why is there mandatory valet parking? I hate the awkwardness of the tip, exchange ticket, bleh...But, we get through it with our usual side jokes and laugh at our awkwardness and move into Rib heaven.
The rehearsal dinner was lovely and I felt that if I tried to stuff one more bite of anything, I would burst into million little BBQed Filipino pieces. At around 9:30pm, my teeth began to chatter and my head began to pound. Thinking I had one too many glasses of vino, I kept ordering more water, but the achiness began to spread throughout my body. Within a few hours, my head felt like it weighed 90lbs and loud noises hurt my eardrums. Not even the site of black raspberry chip ice cream from Graeters (dessert) cheered me up. When Nick spotted my forlorn appearance, he knew it was time to go.
We headed back to Keith's place where he had just moved in with Jay. The Borchers brothers were all under one roof. Kelly and Tim drove down from Columbus to spend time with us. Kelly hugged the stuffing out of me even though I was lame and immediately laid down on Keith's bed. They hit Dana's while I sadly wrapped myself in a blanket and waved goodbye from the couches. Curse whatever bug just invaded me.
At least there's good movies. As I watch Halloween 5 and Cinderella Man (I adore underdog/boxing movies) and try to hydrate myself with plenty of water, I grow increasingly frustrated at my health. I wanted to go out and drink watered down beer from Dana's and take an incredibly expensive taxi ride home and then wake up in fog and hear about what ridiculous comments I made to Nick in private that he would eventually blast to everyone else to further humiliate me. I couldn't sleep and felt my stomach begin to turn sour. Ugh.
Hours past.
As I began watching A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, I heard the door rattle open and see a suitcase plop down on the coffee table. I sat up to read the words, "What You Crave."
"What's this?"
Nick kisses my forehead as greeting, "Kelly's treat!"
I watch a sea of hands reach eagerly for the suitecase as I squint to see an uncountable number of White Castle sliders on the coffee table. Ignoring the most advanced parts of my brain that were schooled by fine teachers and philosophers, brushing aside my digestive misery, I reach for a mysterious soft square of bread, cheese, and something that resembled meat. I take a small bite.
How is it that I don't even have to chew before it goes down my throat?
That was a critical decision.
The clock now reads 4am.
Nick and I just got back from the airport. We walked into our apartment and I had temporarily forgotten that our life here is almost over and is waiting to be shipped in brown boxes. Ugh...why bother unpacking?
So this is what happened...
On Thursday, June 5, we took an uneventful train ride to the airport with our bags so heavy, our arms were ready to fall off. Awesome - our flight is delayed three hours. I love American Airlines.
So, Nick is flustered because our gate has changed and while I am crooning to Whitney Houston's old school ballads, he is pacing the terminal, looking nervous. As he sits down, he's muttering, "I have a feeling we should be at the other gate and we're going to miss our flight."
I counter, "Didn't they just announce that we need to be at C42?"
"Yes."
"Aren't we at C42?"
"Yes."
"Then what's the problem, man?" It's odd being the logical one.
"I don't know. I'm going to check it out." He's off, taking long strides before he's even done talking.
I go back to my iPod.
Sometimes I think Nick would prefer for the world to be full of oversized signs and arrows, written in the sky so there are no questions when it comes to traveling and itineraries. Whenever we are in Dayon and there are enormous painted white arrows on the highway that point forward with huge 75 N above it, he grabs my hand, "I LOVE these things! So easy to read!"
I just shake my head.
Anyhoo -- we get on the plane and land in Akron without any other major obstacles.
We head to my brother's house where we need to pick up the key to my parents' house, where Nick and I are staying. It's late, after midnight, and Fran asks if Nick wants a homemade enchilada, "They're still warm, " he tempts Nick. Through the dark, I can see the hungry blue in his eyes. He smiles, "Well, if you make me...." and saunters off toward the kitchen.
As we chatter and catch up, we watch clips of one of my favorite movies, Rocky Balboa, while Nick passes out from his enchilada on the couch. Fran grumbles that the Celtics clinched Game 2 and that it should have been the Cavs, we leave for my parents' place.
An empty split level house, we make it through the door, thoroughly fatigued. We fall asleep pretty quickly, not even bothering to cover ourselves with blankets. Exhausted.
Friday, June 6
We wake up at the same time and immediately start talking.
"Do you hear that?" Nick smiles.
"Yes - it's been awhile since I've heard that."
"Birds singing. When was the last time we heard birds sing in the morning?" He stretches like a cheetah, taking up 90% of the bed.
"I'm used to the bus screeching, people yelling, a police siren - the usual."
Nick pauses, "I'm just used to this," he contorts his face into a hell ball and lets out a scream that sounds something like a cross between a lamb being slaughtered and a ten fingernails on a blackboard.
I laugh deliriously and know we are on a good path to moving to a place where we appreciate the quiet and simplicity of the morning wind.
We quickly shower and head back to my brother's house, Fran, to finally meet my newest nephew, Joseph Gaetano Factora, who was born last month. He is baby boy #3 and child #4 for Fran. It's getting to be a full house. After a few hours, we head up to Cleveland to finally see our house.
I have not yet seen our future home and entrusted Nick to see it several weeks prior. With nothing but online pictures to go on, I was more than eager to finally set my eyes on it. We pulled in and I gasped, I loved it.
A 1928, 4 bedroom, 2.5 bathrooms, and new kitchen home will be ours on Thursday. I adore it. End of story. We stop by St. Dominic (Nick's workplace) to drop off paperwork. We run into Nick's staff, who are more than warm, welcoming, and generous with tips, suggestions, and furniture.
We get on the road and I am deep in thought about our house and keep reassuring Nick my silence is more contemplative, not disappointment. I think he just wanted to make sure that I loved the house and he didn't want to hear anything else for the next 55 years of our life together about how I should never have trusted him to make the decision.
We change clothes at a gas station (classy) to get ready for Bella and Anderson's wedding rehearsal. We make it in time and it's fantastic to see everyone. The Ohio temperature is unreal. When we left Boston it was in the mid 60s and Cincinnati was dangerously close to triple digits.
I feel like a wilting flower.
My reminders to Nick that we need to purchase a GPS is confirmed as we take nearly 30minutes to get to Montgomery Inn. "Pete Rose Way is down this way...I think..."
What a debacle. A quick call to Keith helps us navigate to Sawyer Point and eventually to the Boathouse, aka Montgomery Inn; home of the best ribs and Saratoga chip uptopia.
It's the small things that throw Nick and I off. Things like valet. Why is there mandatory valet parking? I hate the awkwardness of the tip, exchange ticket, bleh...But, we get through it with our usual side jokes and laugh at our awkwardness and move into Rib heaven.
The rehearsal dinner was lovely and I felt that if I tried to stuff one more bite of anything, I would burst into million little BBQed Filipino pieces. At around 9:30pm, my teeth began to chatter and my head began to pound. Thinking I had one too many glasses of vino, I kept ordering more water, but the achiness began to spread throughout my body. Within a few hours, my head felt like it weighed 90lbs and loud noises hurt my eardrums. Not even the site of black raspberry chip ice cream from Graeters (dessert) cheered me up. When Nick spotted my forlorn appearance, he knew it was time to go.
We headed back to Keith's place where he had just moved in with Jay. The Borchers brothers were all under one roof. Kelly and Tim drove down from Columbus to spend time with us. Kelly hugged the stuffing out of me even though I was lame and immediately laid down on Keith's bed. They hit Dana's while I sadly wrapped myself in a blanket and waved goodbye from the couches. Curse whatever bug just invaded me.
At least there's good movies. As I watch Halloween 5 and Cinderella Man (I adore underdog/boxing movies) and try to hydrate myself with plenty of water, I grow increasingly frustrated at my health. I wanted to go out and drink watered down beer from Dana's and take an incredibly expensive taxi ride home and then wake up in fog and hear about what ridiculous comments I made to Nick in private that he would eventually blast to everyone else to further humiliate me. I couldn't sleep and felt my stomach begin to turn sour. Ugh.
Hours past.
As I began watching A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila, I heard the door rattle open and see a suitcase plop down on the coffee table. I sat up to read the words, "What You Crave."
"What's this?"
Nick kisses my forehead as greeting, "Kelly's treat!"
I watch a sea of hands reach eagerly for the suitecase as I squint to see an uncountable number of White Castle sliders on the coffee table. Ignoring the most advanced parts of my brain that were schooled by fine teachers and philosophers, brushing aside my digestive misery, I reach for a mysterious soft square of bread, cheese, and something that resembled meat. I take a small bite.
How is it that I don't even have to chew before it goes down my throat?
That was a critical decision.
The clock now reads 4am.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
3 Down, 97 More to Go
Today is our 3rd year anniversary!
We woke up and did what we always do the morning of our anniversary -- watch our wedding slideshow and footage of the big day.
Of course we cried like big fat babies, as we do every year, but it's wonderful to relieve the greatest day of our lives.
Speaking of big days, we're heading home to Ohio tomorrow evening for another great wedding -- Catie Bella and Matt Anderson. We're pumped for them and to see everyone, too. It's been a good six months since we've been to Cincinnati and it'll be great to throw a few back.
On Monday, we'll do our final walk-through of our house before we close next Friday! We fly back to Boston Tuesday morning, Keith flies in Friday, and then we're all driving back to Ohio on Sunday, June 15th. This time, for good.
It's been a twisty and unpredictable 3 years and we can't wait to see what the next 97 have in store for us.
We woke up and did what we always do the morning of our anniversary -- watch our wedding slideshow and footage of the big day.
Of course we cried like big fat babies, as we do every year, but it's wonderful to relieve the greatest day of our lives.
Speaking of big days, we're heading home to Ohio tomorrow evening for another great wedding -- Catie Bella and Matt Anderson. We're pumped for them and to see everyone, too. It's been a good six months since we've been to Cincinnati and it'll be great to throw a few back.
On Monday, we'll do our final walk-through of our house before we close next Friday! We fly back to Boston Tuesday morning, Keith flies in Friday, and then we're all driving back to Ohio on Sunday, June 15th. This time, for good.
It's been a twisty and unpredictable 3 years and we can't wait to see what the next 97 have in store for us.
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