Coffee con Kulfi

Ingredients:
One cup of freshly-brewed coffee
Two tablespoons of Kulfi (Basically ice cream with the Indian twist, which means cardamom, rose flavour, pistachio and cashew are basic toppings)
One tablespoon of honey (depends on your sweet taste)

I just had this while watching a cricket match between India and Sri Lanka. The Indian team was terrific. For the first time in my life, I feel like an Indian cheerer myself. And a sports fan too! My goodness, how did this happen?! I was never a sports fan. I never felt as excited as this watching basketball in the Philippines. Hmmn...

It just feels great when you know you have this capability of doing something, which turns out to be really good.

Back here again at the crevice of the Unknown. I'm starting to lose count of the times I've jumped into this rather dark zone. And here I am again, confessing about my failure to sail through the world of corporate madness. I'm really not that good at lying, even to myself. At times, it gets to me so badly I feel so much in despair, especially when I know people expect much of what I can do.

More than my own disappointments, it's the feeling of disappointing those whom I care about that kills me. Just how bad can it get? Anyhow, I should say a solid support system by my side makes me get through all these. Having been away from friends that I've always relied to when it comes to this, the desert would have been a real lonesome place without my husband here, with the quiet confidence of a man.

I realized that making a living is not easy, if you take it seriously. For days, opening the classifeds has become almost a mechanical thing to do, add to that, the lack of any better sense in any day's news, I almost don't want to pick up the papers. Example: a South Asian celebrity who just got much of racist remarks on tv says the remarks were mean but not racist. How pathetic and sad it can be when one does not even know anymore when to recognize if she's been violated of racism?

Thankfully, I am reading Jay Rubin's Haruki Murakami and the Music of Words, after almost two years since I bought them in Thailand. Who doesn't love Murakami nowadays? I don't know why I've put off reading this one for so long. This writer is one hell of a character. He gave me enough insights just when I needed them most.

From the Murakamis that I've read (thanks to the person who introduced me to him), he has a way of showing you how common reality is, ironically when his works traverse between the metaphysical and the surreal.

Rubin has quite pulled off the real Murakami from his works. Quite interesting for me or anyone who's stuck between ideas in his head and the words yet missing, it is important to understand that producing a body of work is not always made by a genius, but by someone who has the hard work and the discipline. That's who Murakami is.

I realised how I've been expecting a bit too much from myself, when I know all the while what it takes to get the words that match these ideas in my head. It's a bit selfish to share Murakami here in so few words that mostly relates to me. But somehow I figured out what was missing along the way. And how did I miss that from the Norwegian Wood: "The true enemy of this bunch was not State Power but Lack of Imagination". Or have I forgotten all about it?

I've never read a writer so grounded, so clear of what writing is all about to him, devoid of any sense of illusion of some path to greatness or even self-therapy. It would be wrong to treat him as a genuis, and perhaps it will not give justice to him if we give him more space than he asks for, which I doubt he would ask at all. So I should say, mine is sheer admiration.

Like he said in an interview, "Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) I'm not a genius, so I can't live without taking control of various aspects of my personal life." I'm so glad to be reminded. Hahaha!

I got few words from my Philippines trip because I hope I can use more images, which means I should seriously move out of here and find a new home.

It was lovely to be back and see how some things change...




And some things stay. Memories are old. But love is always fresh.


Or see it from another view.



I missed home.

For over a week now, it's a gloomy weather here. I have been saying this in the past entries, but what is happening is clearly a sign of serious climate change. One day, I won't be surprised if it's raining hailstorm here, which has happened once, by the way. Unusual? Not really.

The irony of it is amidst the booming construction is that many buildings have not considered this bigger phenomenon. I've been into hotels and big malls, lavished with grandiose and what-have-you, and during this time, in the middle of most aisles and corridors, you will see buckets and basins meant for water dripping from ceilings. What a sight!

And up to now, I don't see signs of rain letting up until another more week. Who would have thought this desert region will have such a scenario? I've been wrapping myself from head to feet just to feel a little more warmth. The cold is killing me. At times, I am becoming paranoid that it is literally creeping inside of me in an attempt to stone my heart.

We had a couple from Canada as guests for two nights two weeks ago and the lady is telling me I won't survive there if this kind of weather is making me stand like a chilled beer. Her comment made a serious impact on our plans to move to Canada in a few years. First is the weather, and second is food.

This Indian couple is one of those many Asian families who also believed the better life is only found in cold regions. But after a few years, they are exploring the possibility of moving in Dubai to have a little feel of 'home' while having the benefits of modern lifestyle and better income. They were complaining of high taxes and a vicious cycle of paying credits in exchange of the lifestyle they don't like so much. While basic education is free, they said it wasn't that great and other 'fees' normally take up the supposedly saved expense from education. And, higher education is good, but definitely expensive.

They said, being vegetarian in Canada is simply replacing meat with soy protein and not with many different vegetables. For example, vegetarian burger in Dubai is made of chickpeas and other veggies. Indians normally use potatoes and paneer (cottage cheese). In Canada, it's made of soy or gluten that imitates meat. I know, I've tasted some which almost taste like meat!

After what we've learned, we found ourselves so lucky to be in Dubai. I don't wonder why many Westerners have also started flocking here, enjoying a wealthy and 'royal' lifestyle with househelp and all, and a higher pay scale among other nationalities. While Dubai is becoming an attractive place to live for many nationalities, it's only fair to say, it is not an 'ideal world' here.

I would say, ''racial" differences are still being highly considered in job placements. Not that Asians have less opportunities in terms of getting a job, although that also happens. It's the take home pay that matters. For instance, a Filipina lady receptionist or accountant will get a starting offer of 50 per cent less than the offer being given to a native English counterpart.

Some employers justify by saying, "well, we only give what price they ask".

Despite the merging of many nationalities here in Dubai, race remains one of the biggest means to exploit Asian workers here. Of course, life is different here from Manila or from Delhi or Colombo, but there should be no illusion of a 'better' life here.

Afterall, how do we define a 'better' quality of life anyway? Without falling into the postmodern trap, I guess it all boils down to values, norms and culture that we believe is a happy and 'just' life, regardless of skin color or passport identification.

At the end of the day, we define ourselves vis-a-vis the community we live into, but then we still have a say what kind of community we want it to be. And it all begins there. As with mine, I want it to be real warm, in many senses.

This sun-burst city has finally tasted rain once again. It normally happens once in a while during this time of the year on this side of the planet. It's unusual though that there seems no sign of letting up that fast. And finally, I got "my time".

It's been a while and many things have happened. There are many exciting things going on. Amar and I recently moved in to an old villa, but still pretty much nice and cozy. Although we had hoped to move into an apartment, the skyrocketing rent here makes it just so impossible. But I liked our new home. It's quiet and spacious and really big for the two of us. It took us sometime to arrange things here and there,I realised furnishing one's home, even with the most basic of stuffs is really tedious. But that didn't lessen my excitement. Only thing is, we have to leave so soon, I haven't even got the feel of it.

Yes, we are off to Philippines in a matter of days. And I really don't know how I am feeling after so long, especially it was a mixed bag of emotions for many of my loved ones when I took off last year. But now, I'm sure everybody is happy.

Another exciting happening, which I can't help but share it here is that I got shortlisted as lecturer in one of those off-campus UK universities here. I wasn't just excited, I am too overwhelmed. I don't know if they'll hire me after our initial meeting with the director, but just the thought I had been considered makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs. By the way, it was a good conversation I had with them.

The call came a few days after I finally decided that I can't take the crap anymore from the agency I was working with for two months. And of all bosses, a Filipino manager had to show me utter lack of manners in employee relations. I figured, it's really not worth the time furthering any working relationship. So maybe it was a blessing in disguise, but I'm still keeping my fingers crossed.

Last night, Amar and I watched "Before Sunrise". After seeing it for the first time, almost 10 years ago, I figured I have grown with the characters as they become somebody else in the sequel, "Before Sunset". The film reminded me of my own fears, of choices between being with someone and becoming somebody.

Not so long ago, I had this dilemma. I found myself looking in the same lens as Jesse: "Sometimes I dream about being a good father and a good husband. And sometimes it feels really close. But then other times it seems silly like it would ruin my whole life. And it's not just a fear of commitment or that I'm incapable of caring or loving because... I can. It's just that, if I'm totally honest with myself I think I'd rather die knowing that I was really good at something. That I had excelled in some way than that I'd just been in a nice, caring relationship."

But now, obviously, Celine won me over: "I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."

Of course, a part of me still waits for the day I can be really good at something, and it does not have to be a matter of choice.

For two long whole months I've waited to land again in some writing job. I realised it was really almost impossible to 'search a needle in a haystack'. So I opted to pick up something that's on the surface. So I'm back at the beck and call of the corporate world.

When I first came here, in less than two weeks, I got calls and interviews and offers, and I bargained and got a job, as a writer of course. But I wrote for trade and industries that were beyond my imagination. Does supply chain and logistics ring a bell to you? It was a business to business magazine. They don't serve the consumers directly, but this industry is said to be the one responsible how I get fresh Chiquita bananas here from the Philippines. For many people here, it does not matter whether they are home grown or GMO-free or organic, or whatever new value is added to the product. This industry comprise of the businesses that make globalisation possible, and spinning faster by the day.

Finally, I got tired of the people around me, and of the subjects I am restricted to explore the way I want them. Naturally, as it is a business environment, what the client wants prevails. Afterall, they pay the salary. So forget about wrong spelling, grammar, and an absolutely senseless series of sentences lumped together to form a paragraph. That is not even the point. The important thing is, it should smell good, and it should smell like good business. Eventually, I made my getting married in India a convenient excuse not to come back. There will be other options, I hoped. Or there will be other 'writing' jobs to fit into.

The truth is, media's unprecedented growth has got nothing to do with more people having the freedom of expression. It is sad to note that from around 200 journalism graduates in my batch, very few went to newspaper reporting, and many who opted to use their talents had to find their jobs in public relations, government or business. Others went into pursuing different specializations, or more noble causes in the non-profit sector. I consider them the lucky and blessed ones. They probably need not worry about house rents.

While much debate has flourished condemning the commodification of information or worse, knowledge, at the end of the day, media is an industry concerned with profits, subject to competition in a market environment -- a bitter pill I had to swallow.

Since Dubai opened itself to the hands of foreign investors, naturally attendant spin doctors began to flourish and claim themselves 'media'. It's really a bit of paradox here to say this city has a 'liberal' attitude towards media. But when you look into the governance here in the Middle East in general, of course, mainstream ideas of being liberal such as elections and the like are really new, so what to expect? But the funny thing is, media flourishes here like any other, but these are all run under a patronage. In a sense, there is nothing different here how it operates in may parts of the world. While few newspapers, run by British expats who mostly have made this place their second home, try to open spaces for people to vent their complains like bad services, skyrocketing rents, garbage, etc. It is interesting though, that expatriate voices really change the way things happen here. When think about it, citizenship has got nothing to do with places/countries/or nations.What really matters is to have the influence.

Anyway, on a final note, I'd have to say, since I was 12, I have been wide-eyed crazy about how wonderful words can make a world of difference. But not until I was out there in the real world of work did I realize it was more than just words. I know I am not suffering of lack of space, of freedom to write, but of lack of ideas and creativity, and mystery that goes beyond the pervasiveness of a truly megalomaniac world, obssessed with image.

But come to think of it, it is my choice to be here and I don't blame anyone for me getting into this situation. But perhaps, it is worth noting that we understand our situation and we have at least the tiniest bit of effort to do something about it. Not enough of course. But one day, I do hope I'll find that SPACE where I don't have to just rant like this.

As if Indian journalist and writer Khushwant Singh's autobiography is not enough inspiration for me, The Soup still does a lot of stirring in me these days. I just want to quote Toni Morrison's quoted verse from the Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul. Here it goes:

There's a difference between writing for a living and writing for life. If you write for a living, you make enormous compromises, and you might not be even to uncompromise yourself. If you write for life, you'll work hard; you'll do what's honest, not what pays.

Truly, truly inspiring. Right now, I can't even finish an essay. It's all one-liners and it's frustrating and demoralizing, and the fear grips me even more, as I search out for that 'right' job, in the middle of setting up a nice, clean household, where food is served fresh and not from the can.

Imagine the worries of a wife, or a mother (not yet me!) when she prepares the home, if she is equipped with the knowledge of the world. For example, food. There is so much issue on food -- whether you'll opt for organic when the rest of what you eat is not or whether you'll buy only those with non-GMO stamp, or you'll just opt for what's available because it's cheap. What is HEALTHY nowadays? It takes me several rounds in the supermarket which ones to pick up, and which ones to put back on the shelf. If you really think about it, the whole household is politically laden, only it is hidden in the every day grinds of our need to survive, to earn some extra so that everything is well to take a walk by the shore without much worry of running out of gas any time, or whether the credit has gone beyond limits.

I felt that the obsessive-compulsive in me has gone haywire, tying my hands to the spic and span, to the dusts that never end piling up at the end of the day, no matter how often I wipe them out. I don't know why I have become this, why I have diverted so much attention to order and perfection when all i used to do was remain insomniac and write that small piece of poem and feel extremely gratified with life. I don't want to call my new status as a distraction. I'd rather call it a more challenging way of getting through all what life has to offer to a writer.

Maybe all i need is just this fact, this recognition that these worries are here and it's not going to go away out of ignoring it's existence. I'm a worry-wart, so be it.

This may sound like I'm reassuring myself of the vow I have done long ago but couldn't find a way to go through it. It can't be that bad to glorify this love at times when writing down those on the lists could not simply happen yet. Another writer who shared her piece of inspiration said:

The act of writing takes me back to that initial, willful act of faith, a way to look, touch and savor all life's moments while they are happening, to make each of them count and not to take any of them for granted....When I put thought on paper today, whether it be for a particularly compelling piece of fiction or a more mundane news piece, there is the memory of the first thrill of capturing each moment as it happens, of knowing that, no matter how far distant it becomes in memory, the simple act of writing will keep it forever safe, forever authentic. -- Kate M. Brausen

While it just dawned on me that it will take a while -- a long while in fact, to be able to launch that Great Project from the Unknown, it is not wise to stop writing fragments. Days and weeks and months of crossing over too many distractions are not over and I don't think it will ever be. I figured, it will always be there and there's no other way to deal with it than walk through it.

I am back here braving the Unknown. It is utterly frustrating to realize that writing for a living makes a lot of compromises and I've got to make a difficult choice, if I really value writing. After six long months, I left (again) or did not come back, to put it more precisely to that first writing job initially offered to me here in the land of the sands. It was not entirely a writing job anyway. It was more of choosing better words for press releases that were already written. Words of my parents saying that writing is not always financially rewarding confront me every morning like an alarm to my senses. But more than the finances, my struggle was more of running out of what to write.

The other day, while me and my husband are off to watch Indian cinema, I rushed to the nearest bookstore before the film started in hope of finding a quick dose of inspiration for my rather dulling faith in my dreams. And I couldn't believe myself turning into one of those chicken soup books (not to mention I've become vegetarian). There was only one copy left of the Chicken Soup for the Writer's Soul. I did not intend to buy it, I was just browsing through while waiting for the movie to begin, but then, I saw it was on sale and later did I realise the movie was about to begin. So I rushed to the counter and paid for it, only to be told, it's no more on sale and back to its regular price. Some luck, I had no choice, I badly needed that push.

The truth is, I'm really confused how I'll go about this whole dreamer's dream. I know I need to be in a regular job, but it's just difficult to accept that I'll write what I believe is nonsense just to get some bucks. I feel it's an injustice to this love of mine. So I am embarking on a career shift, or shall I say, money-making schemes. It drives me nuts how I'm going to start all over again while in the process of planning for a family, which by the way is hard to imagine how to bear a child while this side of the world is waging war against itself.

The strife in Lebanon has hardly let up, and I am here musing, completely detached and guilty about being so into myself. The weary wind from the war zone is of course very much felt here. Every time, I enter my favorite Lebanese bakery, these nice guys who make very tasty zaatar bread have their eyes filled with sadness. I'm really starting to get attached to this nomadic city. Although, loneliness still visits me whenever I miss couches for coffee in a third world city. I miss my soul friends. I miss ranting while it rains. I miss writing long emails.

But the constant reminder of my reason for my being away, or should I say moving on to my journey, keeps me warm and lovely, all of these frustrating and missing times. At times when I almost want to give up on this madness, there is this reassuring voice beside me, telling me that if I have stopped believing in myself, then I should believe him instead. So here I am again, reconnecting, or shall I say, trying to reconnect to nameless souls who might happen to pass by, who just like me are searching for some amusement, or maybe some bits of inspiration to uplift the self from this bad, bad, cruel world.

Too many happenings in my life, some friends are still trying to digest what's going on. I suggest not, constipation is irritating.

Anyway, I feel too lazy to write. I guess when big things are happening in one's life like marriage in India without my friends and relatives, except me and my dad, it's pretty overwhelming.

Well, excited, nervous, and never been happier. I guess when you get down to it, there always are not enough words to choose from. The most important thing is, I found what I was looking for. It's pure, it's true and it's a misty-eyed me whenever I stare at the love before me.

I'm going. When I come back, maybe I'll make a new blog, or redecorate. I really hope to write more. I hope I could start going beyond blogs, seriously!

i could have ignored this tagging thing, it's not about g (hehe, joke lang), it's about my last two days here in dubai (and off to incredibleindia for a month!) and i have nothing to do. miss you g! but how do i do this?

1. my name is medilyn. it sounds like a christian name but it doesn't really make one. henceforth...anyway, i think my dad just took it from his name, which is IgMEDio and then made it sound like a feminine name by adding 'lyn'. thus, number two.

2. my christian name, according to my baptismal certificate is 'antipaz'. those days when i was born, priests don't baptise you unless you have a christian name attached to it if not solely one. after marriage, my sikh name could be malkit kaur. or i could be medilyn kaur or medilyn singh. I like to carry the surname Kaur, though. In Sikhism, all Sikh women carry this surname, not their father's nor their husbands. Hmmn...

3. my skin swells easily. small, tiny scratches and it's like an allergic reaction to nothing. but it disappears in minutes as well.

4. i often make mistakes when i speak, and even when i write (watch out!), like when do you use bring and when do you use take? or going to and coming to..shucks! if i don't have dyslexia, i think i'm aphasiac! or what is it called?

5. i am an impulsive shopper! but i hardly regret what I have bought. 99% i use them a lot or wear them. but when i have planned to buy something, it takes 10 rounds to 10 other shops before I could decide.

6. there is something called PMS in my vocabulary. on 'normal' days, i am really sweet and not that cranky.

7. i have come to love tea with milk and some cardamom flavor. otherwise, some of my best mornings start with a cup of coffee. alcohol as a beverage was once appealing to me, but it just lost its spirit. i wouldn't say i'll never try tequila or rum ever again. in some blue moon perhaps. tough, it would be cool to chill out with bacardi breezer or smirnoff ice occasionally.

8. who says i am a filipino? outside the philippines, nobody recognises me as a filipino. in thailand, i was always mistaken as thai. in dubai, my fellow kabayans mistake me as another asian.

9. i was never a fan of signature items. i look after quality. despite some radical steps in my life, i am as old-fashioned as anyone i know.

10. i have started reading four books and haven't finished any one of it in the last six months. except for poetry, i have yet to read the book i'll read over and over again.

11. i have developed the taste for spices. i never knew i like them. i used to eat sooo bland food like salt and pepper.

12. i'm still trying to overcome being a worrywart.

13. migraine has become my number one enemy.

14. i hurry to come home and watch re-runs of Friends.

15. i don't watch sports channel, except when i am sharing the TV...

16. i can't raise a plant! and yet to learn having a pet around. i'd rather be around kids all the time.

17. i love flying, but i get dizzy looking down from the 4th floor of a mall

who should i tag this time? imee, yoy, gen, bonn