In The Name Of...

A rose by any other name…

Why did I put “LLOYD” instead of Erwin on my blog? I don’t know, really. I could have put “bigasianboi”, or “sircumalot” or “tryinghardblogger”, but I didn’t . I think Lloyd now deserves his 15 years of fame. I was always called Erwin, known as Erwin (though pronounced differently depending on the country: Arvind in India, Erwing in Ethiopia, Herwin in Pampanga and Irvin in Germany). I hated it when Ma’am Polly in high school calls me Lloyd. I think it is so British. Now, it’s Lloyd’s payback time.

Just think. You have a short asian guy with weird first names (ERWIN LLOYD) and a much weirder family name (which I will not put here so as I will not have stalkers!) and having an American accent. Just imagine us talking on the phone, I introduce myself, then we plan to meet. In your mind’s eye you see me as (probably) tall and muscled guy with blond hair and deep blue eyes. But wouldn’t that be a big a disappointment when you meet a short but handsome (just the same) asian?

Of course fate has been kinder to me. What I lack in height, I compensate in a lot of things. Loud voice, a good conversationalist and listener, and most of all Chinese eyes that seem to say: “come to me, I care”… And oh, yeah, I sing, too.

I can’t imagine how some parents would name their children. If they were probably born during the primitive times, naming a child “Tambis” or “Pirot” or “Ugtongan” wouldn’t matter at all. I don’t know if parents chose a certain criteria, a fad, or they have a certain desire to maim their children. I don’t know if you could send your parents to jail for calling you “Mary Babalina” when you actually look like an “Abigail” or an “Ashley”.

I have friends (please forgive me for printing your names!) whose names are as follows: Serafina Naquitquitan, Vlad Menesis (pronounced as Blood Menses), Jacky Chan Lee, Maria Magdalena Santos, and the sisters Thursday Grace and Tuesday Love. I have had patients whose names where Angelina Jolie Dimangcol, Brad Pitt Burgos and of course, the famous, Courtney Cobain Mendoza.

Probably the parents were thinking –“ hmmm, I wonder if I name him this, I would sound witty….Maybe my child will be as famous as the name he/she will carry….”
I have recently read a book “ The Namesake” by Jumpa Lumpiri (I hope I got the name right). It is a story about this man who was named Gogol Ganguly, after his father’s favorite author. Anyway, it is a simple story of how a man struggles to appreciate his name, and carve his own niche as an Indian living in America. Of course, he has to go back to his roots, learn about his family’s past and embrace the tradition that so alien to him.

The moral of the story is, a name is basically that. A name. People may call you the worst sounding name in the world, but it is up to you to make something of THAT name. Others are lucky enough to have inherited their family’s infamy, but for most, it is a long hard struggle.
It didn’t actually take me long to appreciate and love my name. Though it sounds weird and a bit out of place, it is mine. And people know me for that name. I wonder if I would be the same if I was called Peter or Donnovan.

(“Dunuvan, gets down from dat tri. Or else I will calling your mader across the pens…” Imagine having a yaya like that)

It didn’t take long for me to discover that I was born to be famous. With a name like that where would I go wrong?

Wanna bet your name?

Don't Judge A Boy By What He Wears (A Business Proposal)

I have thought of putting up a business. It should be something which I love. Something which takes little monitoring. And of course, something which uses little capital.

And so it was that at 3am again today, I decided to go into the t-shirts business!

All my friends know that I am a t-shirt’s guy. I love wearing t-shirts with catchy lines and thought provoking images. Though the words doesn’t necessarily reflect on my personality, they are nevertherless fun.

One particular shirt which I love is a red-colored number which I bought in Bangkok. On the front, it says: “I gave all my money to charity.” At the back, there is a picture of a semi-naked woman on the pole saying: “Hi, my name is Charity. I charge US 50 an hour”. Of course, I can not wear that shirt to church or when meeting government officials.

Also a favorite is my green shirt with a cute, yellow from in the middle. At the back, it says: “Never been kissed”. Witty. I wore it once during a party in Maungdaw, and I have received so much unsolicited kisses from the party girls that night. Of course, some of them were drunk already.

I bought a Punjabi t-shirt in Delhi which says: “Gabru”. Literally (according to the sales girl), it means young, handsome and single. So much meaning for such a short word. This is me, I thought. It reflects me! Moi! Without further question about the price (it was a whooping 700 rupees, by the way), I chose a citrus green shirt and started to browse for some more articles. It was then that a guy came in modeling the shirt I just bought. He was about 50, big belly, and a face no plastic surgeon can handle. He had a bit of vitiligo (a skin condition causing the skin to have different pigmentations), more pronounced on his face and hands. So not Gabru. I gave my newly purchased shirt to an equally deserving guy, my former translator, Anam.

I still love my four-year-old Spoof t-shirt: Fed Up. It is of course, a spoof of Fed Ex. I wear this whenever I feel like stressed and distressed and feel like playing Californication on my ipod. Too bad the company lost some of its wit – they don’t produce nice shirts as they used to. Where were those shirts which says "Gorgeous No Money" instead of Giorgio Armani? Anything new on that side of the block?

I know that the competition for clothing biz is fierce....But hey, I have friends who can help me with the networking and be model themselves, no?

Bong, the attorney, for instance for wear a shirt which says: “No one is above the law”. And at the back, it would say: “Except me who has diplomatic immunity.”

Or Norie could a shirt saying: “C.E.O” in front, and “Woman on Top” at the back.

A bald guy could have a shirt with the writing: “Eternal Sunshine On A Spotless Head”.

A patient with mental problems could wear: "P.H.D. Alumnus" in front and "Psychiatric Health Department" at the back.

My dream line would be: “Stool, shaizer, merde” in the front and then “it’s all shit.” In the back.

Hey I could go on forever with this. Wit flows eternal on a business-inclined doctor!

Just like saying curved yellow fruits for some common fruit.

Anyone up for partners?

Think Thanks

I am touched.

I have never received as much emails as I did in the past two days... not the spams, not those nasty(!) porn pop ups, not the viagra ads or the increase your penis size ads. I received emails from friends! And I have had more than 80 visitors since I opened the blog.

Wait.... On the other hand that sounds a bit depressing. Does that mean that you guys also have the same crisis I have? hehe. Why not, most of us are almost on the same age (less) range. The fact is men are more prone to develop "crisis" than women. Yes, it is true that women loose their curves (most of them) after the third or fourth baby. Yes, it is true that women have temperaments like the weather because their hormones go bazonkas. Yes, it is true that women (in the Philippines, at least) find more meaningful things to do when they reach 30's and 40's: raising a teenage son/daughter alone coz she got pregnant when she was 15; enjoying the joys of shopping and travelling because she now owns her company; showing off a new pair of boobs or a washboard tummy thanks to her cosmetic surgeon; or they just involve themselves more with the local chapter of the Legion of Mary.

Men, on the other hand have to deal with the fact that by the time he reaches30, he would have lost half of his hair already. No toupees can cover the fact that your head appears like a landing strip in the midst of a jungle. Men also had to deal with the fact that they have been having the same position in the company for 15 years without having been promoted, or worst at woman with a Master's degree has seeped her way through the promotion ladder. And the worst part of this is the performance level behind the sheets. Of course that could now be remedied by Viagra, but would it be nice if you could rise to the occasion at the just the thought of sex?

It is actually a vicious cycle. Loss of self-esteem=doing stupid things=drinking alot of beer=doing stupid things=Loss of self-esteem. Thank God I am superior than this!

Of course, I have issues with my body. I was not blessed with a model frame so I look like an aging ewok in a teenager's body. I have age spots, beer belly, sagging neck and eyebags you can store coins in.

However, looking at some of my contemporaries, I felt I am blessed. I met an old friend from high school when I was in Iloilo once, and I couldn't recognize him.He was giving me the details as to how we have been in school together, copied (yes!) from me --- and then it occured to me that this is the high school bully! Well, look at you now -- big fat blob! We actually laughed about it - he'd better - I was treating him for beer that night.

I have had career questions but all vanished when I got totally immersed in the NGO work.

I have had love and relationship issues but I realized that with these good looks......

So when I learned that more than 80 of my friends (I don't know if I have that much friends) visited this blog, I felt touched and at home. I was actually hearing Regine's voice signing "You'll never walk alone" in the background.

And oh yeah, thanks for confirming that it is indeed pathetic to live up to this age without a partner.

Mid Life Crisis 2: Technology

I will be the first to say that I am a techno-gadget-freak. Whenever I travel, I would have an extra bag just for my gadgets: my laptop, my portable dvd/tv player, my psp, my sony ericsson mobile, my PDA, my samsung phones, my sony camera, portable speakers, my ipod touch, two sets of ear phones, portable sony ericsson modem and my blue tooth speakers.

I would drool whenever I see new gadgets on magazines. Literally.

However,I admit I am a total nincompoop when it comes to computer programs. Well maybe, I have reached techno-kindergarten so I'm a bit better that some persons. For two years now, I have carried with me my personal laptop whereever I go. I have found not only entertainment and convenience when I do reports, but sometimes it served as a sex partner (you know what I mean, don't you?). Not in the physical sense, but.... I don't think I need to elucidate.

I have been pursuing different interests lately -- facebook (yest I am on it and so is 2/3 of the whole world), and then this blog. I have started with facebook some months ago and have uploaded about 9 albums. I have been clicking images these past years and the hardest part of uploading photos to facebook is the selection of the pics! I spend more time debating which picture should be posted and which should be put on hold. It's like choosing a favorite among your children!

Faceboook is a nice way to look for long long lost friends and ignore people you don't like (who requested to be your friend). Click on the ignore button and voila! Goodbye pest!

Now this blog is a totally different thing for me. I bet my nephews would breeze through the set up gadgetry, although... they probably wouldn't be witty with words. Wink, wink.

When I started, I found it hard to choose templates and colors and fonts to best represent myself, my thoughts and sentiments. I want to find something loud but not too noisy, something mature but also has the spirit of youth. It was a hard choice between the basic black and the earthy green. In the end green won --- green thoughts?

I also found it hard to choose the items and gadgets to be placed on the side bars. I don't know what adsense is, nor the techno-stuff attached to this blog! I JUST WANT TO WRITE!!!!

Pics, I have no problems with. I have a chest load of good stuff and can easily find appropriate accompaniments to my posts.

So there. The downside of technology.

Okay. Gotta stop here. I am accompanying a friend to buy his first Black Berry.

Temptations. It's like being a poor orphan in a candy shop.

How I do turn this thing off?

Food For Thought

I went to this posh resto in Delhi, about 30 minutes away from our house in Defence Colony. The place is in Greater Kalash II, next to a couple of posh bistros and resto. The place has been mentioned in a lot of travel books and food magazines, so it merited a visit from us. Though parking was a bit of a problem, the restaurant offered what others have not - ambiance. The food was amazingly good and amazingly expensive as well. Being poor volunteers, we ordered salad as starters, and most of the team had fillet mignon while I had the Himalayan trout. We ended the dinner with a cup of espresso and a serving of creme broulee. Looking around, I noticed that it was also a very posh crowd. I wondered where Victoria Beckham was.... The bill was enough to support a family of 8 from a small country in Africa for two months.

Dinner conversation rotated around food and nice restos in some distant country. I interjected my Bihar experience - trying to be funny. But then my joke backfired! Nobody seemed to have noticed but I immediately stopped short in my statement and just shied away from the conversation. I swear I stopped eating my salad (for a brief moment).

The main reason is that, people are starving in Bihar. Just after the flood, tens of thousands of men, women and children left their homes to move into camps. These people carried what little they had and lived in these camps around the main towns, hoping for at least 1 square meal everyday. Some had to walk for miles to have lunch or dinner then walk back home in the evening. Others would be starving because they came from other districts, and because they have no political affiliations (most food camps are ran by politicians). The same in Ethiopia where people would travel to Abdurafi to look for work so they could have money during the hunger gap. Most of them don't come back because they either have Kala Azar, Malaria or die from starvation.

Probably this situation is the same all over the world.

Anyways, enough of dampening the spirit. I really did enjoy that dinner. One of my friends noticed my uneasiness and unusual silence; and he asked if I was okay. I told him what I thought and he started to laugh. " Escape your world for a brief moment," he said.

" The world will still be the same tomorrow."

With that said and probably a split second thinking --why not?

We then fought for the last bit of creme broulee on the bowl.

Kava Nights and Restless Dreams

Since I met Chito and Norie last July in the Philippines and had rounds of drinks and rowdy singing at this very obscure-looking place in Ermita, I have had wild cravings for Kava. For those who are not the adventuro-totoys, Kava (Piper methisticum forster spp) is a native plant of the pacific. I admit, I was addicted to it for some time and so were 90% of the volunteers who went to live and work in Vanuatu! Of course, Chito and I became masters but I became a notch higher than him because I have had experiences with Kava plus some additives on it (secret!).

Anyways kava is grown in the pacific and harvested at a particular time (after about 4-5 months). The roots are then cleaned, chopped (or grated) and juiced so a brownish-mud-looking liquid is produced. There is an intoxicating smell characteristic of a good variety and a mud-like smell of the not-so-good kind. The effect, once you drink the liquid is variable. The first time I tasted it, I vomitted like a girl-with-anorexia-after-eating. It is an acquired taste...really! So, once you have tasted it, there is a tingling sensation on your lips and tongue and later numbness on the oral cavity. There will be an urge to spit (or sometimes, regurgitate) and should the cavity have its "peace" with you, a sense of calm and "highness" would be felt. I have had "funny" experiences with Kava but that would be another post!

Since Kava is a downer, it is used in rituals and ceremonies in Vanuatu. The chiefs would call warring tribes and offer kava as a gesture of peace. These days, nakamals (kava bars) are just there to hang out, chill and meet friends. A bit of a social get-together, actually.

So Chito has this precious pack of Kava with him and though it is expired, he treats it like it's mint money from the US treasury. In fairness, he did invite me to drink with him, but heck! I stayed in good old 'pinas for only a couple of days so I wasn't able to taste the longed for drink! And just that thought that it is there, available - made me dream of it! But just wait, expired or not expired, we will take a sip of that when I come back home.

I was also dreaming of Vanuatu for months now - missing my "family" and friends, the paradise that is Ambae, and the not so hurried life in the island. Waking up to the sound of the waves clashing against the white sand beaches, the ever-green trees, the friendly smiles of the people - I really am missing my island paradise! Kava (now, I am rationalizing) is probably just an expression of my longing to go back to Vanuatu.

Man, naoia me reli wantem go back long wei. Mi no save, be kantri ia i gat sam sam magic i kasem long me...

Signs Galore

The japs got us. I was in stitches the moment I received my first funny Engrish photo. Well, have a look at these nice ones. Start from the Sexual Harassment company and end with the Erection Party!

Does this remind you of a liquid literature?

They are also downloading songs by Avrir Ravinge, Red Zepperin and of course, Jurio Igresias.

Hurry now!

If you want to let people know what you want to say, first confuse them.

And now my personal addition..

I took this pic in Dhaka, Bangladesh. If Rong Tuli is a quality fashion wear, I wonder what a Right Tuli would be. Hmmm... (For non-Filipino readers, Tuli means circumcision)