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The journey so far
Slovenia in Instagram
Dear Glee Club
The support for the present Glee Club has been amazing, further amplified by social media. Back in our day, we lived and competed in a bubble. Below are excerpts from a letter I wrote them, which they read on the bus to Maribor.
Dear Glee Club Batch 2012,
You’re in Europe! Yay! Congratulations on getting here! Everyone who has ever toured with the Glee Club knows what you’ve been through to get here. You’re here, individually and as a group, because you deserve to be here. Many of you made tough choices; showed resourcefulness and dedication; listened to your passions; followed your guts. For these things alone, you are already winners and deserve to be congratulated.
I’m so excited for all of you, because 11 years ago, I was just like one of you. I know what’s in store for you guys: the best time of your lives.
After we sang in Debrecen, many of us in the EGP cast shared the same feeling: that we could not have sung any better. The group was so emotional coming off that stage, even before the winners were announced. And it wasn’t because we were nervous or wanted to win. It was because we recognized that we had done our best. It’s hard to avoid using clichés here, because in this case the cliché is true.
Look for that feeling when you step off the stage. Aim for that. To know, personally, deep in your heart, that you have given everything you could give. I pray for that for all of you.
Spring break
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But that’s all in the fun of traveling. Being able to go on a long trip was what I wanted when I started getting restless in Singapore. That bout of “metaphysical unease” two years ago eventually brought us here, and now we get to take that long trip. I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
Our (rather ambitious) itinerary includes a mix of places I’ve been before, and new places that we’ll discover together for the first time:
- The 2012 European Capital of Culture, Maribor, Slovenia, for the European Grand Prix for Choral Singing. The qualified 11 years ago, and qualified again this year. Go Ateneo! One big fight!
- Ideally, if I wake up early enough, a day trip to Lake Bled in Slovenia
- The Mediterranean coastal town of Koper, Slovenia
- A double date with the Duhamels in Venice
- One night in Bologna, to stuff our faces with Italy’s finest
- FLORENCE. Four days. Can’t wait.
- San Gimignano, our base for exploring Tuscany and the nearby towns of Siena, Lucca and Volterra
- Marina di Carrara on the Ligurian coast to visit relatives on Marlon’s side
- Pisa, where we catch our flight back to Amsterdam
Over and out!
Curiosity
You know what they say about cats and curiosity. What they don’t say is that curiosity can be irresistibly adorable.
Chocoholics anonymous
The full stash, clockwise from top left:
- Stainer 75% Cocoa with Cinnamon, from Italy. Cinnamon and dark chocolate, two of my favorite things. This brand has gorgeous packaging, metallic gold with field-guide style botanical and zoological illustrations.
- Madecasse 63% Cocoa with Sea Salt and Nibs, from Madagascar. Am I the only one thinking “I like to move it move it”? I suppose “nibs” means it’s crunchy.
- Casa Amatller Chocolate a la Taza, also with cinnamon, from Spain. The Amatller family made chocolate and lived in Gaudi’s famous building in Barcelona. Sounds like my kind of life. One bar should make four cups of chocolate. I should have broken it out this week, it might have taken the edge off my extended-winter blues.
- Ritter Sport Nugat from Germany. My absolute favorite German import. I’ve been addicted for over a decade.
- Becks Cocoa in “A Clockwork Orange” from Germany. Hot chocolate flavored with Moroccan oranges plus a classic film reference, ooh. This requires a precious cup.
- Emils Gustavs Dark Chocolate with Pink Peppers, from Latvia. Finding treats like this (from “one of the best confectioneries in Eastern Europe“) is why I love living in Europe. I mean, Baltic chocolate. Really, who eats chocolate from Latvia? Now, I do!
- How could I leave out the humble Chocnut? Cas handed me and Marlon two packs of homegrown peanut buttery goodness when I watched the Glee Club in Oberweyer, a gesture that delighted me… and my taste buds.
The best part about this stash? Only the Ritter and Stainer have actually been consumed. Willpower for the win!
Brunch in the Belgian Quarter
… while my nose for bargains led us to a pop-up vintage flea market tucked into an Indonesian restaurant. #score
It was Sunday, so most of the cafes and stores were closed, like this interesting little “crepresso bar” that would have otherwise drawn us in for a taste.
Our attention now directed to the floor, Marlon and I spied this beautiful woven cotton rug by House Doctor, which reminded us of a Indian block printing made modern by the coral on gray palette…
Limburg’s half-timbered houses
Limburg’s famous Dom, or Cathedral, stands on the town’s highest point and beckons from miles away. On our climb, we saw signs of spring (hard to believe with the cold) and took a peek into the courtyard of Schoss Limburg, or Limburg Castle…
… and looked out over charming dormer windows and peaked rooftops tiled with blue-gray slate.
The Dom is just as I remember it, a towering structure made distinctive by its Romanesque features and coral trim.
Inside, it seems to have gotten a lighting upgrade and a good whitewashing over the last 11 years. All the better to showcase its serene beauty.
Lately I find that travel has become all about ticking boxes off a “bucket list”, chasing the rush that comes with heady new experiences and exotic, unfamiliar destinations. I had forgotten how powerful it can be to take a picture in your mind—mine includes this 600 year-old bridge, a parting of the clouds, a breathless dash, laughter—and to treasure it for years…
From school gym to work table
At the start of the year, I decided I needed a desk. All my activities—writing for work, blogging, painting, sewing and calligraphy—took place on the dining table, and that wasn’t working for me anymore. The dining room was hard to heat in winter, so I would end up taking my laptop with me into bed… and not getting anything done! A proper desk would give me a place to build a routine around and would be great for my productivity.
I knew what I wanted: a desk of at least 1.5 meters, longer than it was deep, with space to do more than just one thing at a time. It had to have a tabletop that I wouldn’t mind staining with paint or ink, made of a warm material (no metal, no laminate). It had to have character—possibly used, preferably vintage—but clean lines. It had to be something we could repurpose as a console or buffet table if we ever needed more space. Finally, it had to be something I would want to take back with me if we ever moved back home (so no Ikea)
So I started looking around—thus the trips to Van Dijk en Ko, the IJ-Hallen flea market, and more. I constantly referred to my collection of home offices on Pinterest to keep me on track. I saw a lot of desks—too deep, too low, too short, too expensive.
Then my friend Karyn, who shares my love for old and repurposed things, drove me to the little town of Baarn, 20 minutes out of Amsterdam, to visit J. van Ijken Oude Bouwmaterialen. Oude bouwmaterialenmeans old building materials, and that was exactly what Mr. van Ijken had for sale: an entire hectare of old floors, doors, windows, tiles, tubs, gates, knobs, bricks, fireplaces, you name it. All of it reclaimed from homes, ships, churches, schools, bridges, train stations and more, waiting to be found by odd people who love old things with character. Like me.
Walking into a warehouse filled with old floorboards, I was seized by a wild thought. If I couldn’t find my perfect desk… should I just build it? These are the kinds of thoughts you have after living over a year in a country and culture where everyone does everything themselves. You hear about people building their own houses from scratch and you start to think, it can’t be that hard. Can it?
This old herringbone floor from Hungary reminded me of a beautiful herringbone desk I had seen on Pinterest, and inflamed my confidence. “Yes,” it whispered. “Just build it.”
Then I saw them: old hardwood planks from a Dutch school gym, for €60 per square meter. Pops of color. Lots of character. Perfect.
Finding the wood spurred me into action, and I bought a pair of clean, shiny chrome Vika Moliden legs from Ikea for €25 apiece. I got Marlon on board (you didn’t think I was going to build this all by myself, did you?), and we agreed to rent a car and come back for the planks.
The following weekend, the owner himself, Jan van Ijken, helped me select the pieces that had this old colorful tape. I’d hoped I could have the tabletop built there and just cart it home in the car, but he was very clear about that not being his business. “I supply the wood,” he said firmly and gruffly (but not rudely). He did help me cut the planks into my desired length of 1.5 meters, so thanks, Mr. van Ijken!
After purchasing some wood glue and a small power sander, it was time to build my work table.
Meeting Chuvaness
Finding out how many common friends and acquaintances we have reminded me how small a Pinoy’s world can be. “How come you know everyone?” she asked me. That’s Manila for you—there’s always a connection somewhere. Besides, who doesn’t love off-the-record chismis ?
It was one of those times that can be accurately be described as “surreal, but nice.” Thanks, Chuvaness, for a fun afternoon. Hope to see you back in Holland… but till then, there’s the Internet!