SI JOWA SA HONG KONG AT MACAU

There she had noodles for breakfast...

...and more noodles for dinner.

And there she got shot with them churches.

In Hong Kong and Macau, we went Shooting Churches and Eating Noodles.

Mostly.

ANG ALAMAT NI PUTOL

Noong unang panahon, may naligaw na mga Heswita sa isang lugar sa Tsina [naghahanap yata sila ng raket] na kung tawagin ngayon ay Macau.

At katulad ng mga prayle sa Pilipinas, kinamkam nila ang lupain habang nag-eebanghelyo ng kanilang relihiyon at nagtatayo ng sangkatutak na sambahan. 

Isa sa mga sambahan na ito ang kahoy na kapilya ni San Pablo na itinayo noong 1582.

Dumating ang mga itinaboy na kristiyanong Hapon at marahil ay hindi nila nagustuhan ang lumang kapilya kaya pinalitan nila ito ng magarang batong simbahan noong 1620. 

[Binayaran kaya sila o tinakot na mapupunta sa impiyerno ng mga Italyanong pari kapag 'di nila ginawa].

Noong 1835 ay sinalanta ng isang malakas na bagyo ang Macau.

Subalit hindi ito ang sumira sa simbahan.

Nasunog ang simabahan habang bumabagyo! 

Pero hindi diyan nag-umpisa ang alamat ni Putol.

Nagsimula ito nang dumating ang mga Pinoy sa Macau!

Kasi nga, putol na simbahan ang naging tawag nila dito.

Putol for short.

At sa anino ng guho niya madalas magkita at mag-inom ang marami sa kanilang hinahanap ang kapalaran sa Macau.

[Tuwing Sabado ng gabi lang naman].

Teka, alam niyo ba kung ano ang nasa likod ni Putol?

[Puro harap lang kasi ang madalas pityuran].

Heto o.

LUTONG MACAU

Sa susunod, sa Macau dapat ang tutuluyan at papasyal na lang sa Hong Kong.

Bakit?

Mas mura ang pagkain dito katulad n'ung tig-HK$25 na noodles na inalmusal namin sa hotel daw ni Jacky Chan (Emperor Hotel, 'yung may naka-display na malaking autograph niya at mga bara daw ng ginto sa lobby).

Maraming bre-libs katulad ng free taste sa mga nakahilerang tindahan malapit kay Putol, libreng shuttle bus papunta sa mga casino hotels, at libreng merienda at inumin sa loob ng mga casino (basta may hawak ka na chips para kunyari e sugarol ka din).

Higit sa lahat, buo ang colonial architecture na iniwanan ng mga Portuguese.  

Ibig sabihin, madami akong masu-shoot na lumang simbahan.

Katulad ng kay St. Lawrence na unang itinayo noong 1560 at nakalista bilang isa sa mga World Heritage Site ng UNESCO kung saan pinagbawalan akong kuhanan ang kasalukuyang misa...

...kay St. Augustine na ang kasaysayan ay nag-umpisa noong 1591 at paborito yatang simbahan ng mga Pinoy na nangumbida sa amin sa isang pananghalian bilang pagdiriwang sa Pista ng Lucban...

...o ang katedral ng Macau na itinayo noong 1850 na ang katabing gusali na kamukha ng simbahan ni San Agustin sa Intramuros ang una kong napagkamalang katedral... 

...ang kay St. Dominic sa may Senado Square na inumpisahan ding itayo noong 1590 kung saan natisod ko ang guwardiyang fraternity brod ko sa CLSU at napasok ni Utol sa unang pagkakataon ang museum sa tabi nito...

...at ang sikat na si Putol --- ang mga guho ng simbahan ni St. Paul --- na siya yatang simbolo ng Macau (bukod sa mga casino) kung saan inabutan kami ng ulan habang iniinom ang baon na Budweiser ni Utol. 

Ito ang Lutong Macau para sa akin. 

Hindi ang gusali ng mga sugarol at iba pang bisyo sa kabilang isla ng Taipa.

DISNEYLAND? DUH!

Una ay mahal ang presyo.

Pangalawa, ang tanging interes ko lamang na pumunta doon ay dahil Kuyang ko si Walt Disney at sina Mickey at Minnie Mouse ay simbolo daw ng aming matandang kapatiran.

Pangatlo, mukhang hindi bagay sa amin ang ganyang klase ng theme park.

Siguro pag bumalik ulit kami kasama sina Bulan at Balong.

Kaya sumunod kami sa mungkahi ni Utol Sherwin na pasyalan ang Central District at umakyat sa dinadayong Victoria Peak.

Mula Kimberley Road ay naglakad kami ng mahaba hanggang Star Ferry Pier, kumabila sa Central District, naglakad pa ulit ng mahaba hanggang Garden Road, nadaan sa St. John's Cathedral, at sumakay ng tram paakyat sa bundok.

E biglang umulan. Malakas. Walang tigil. Kaya hayan.

Umuwi na lamang kami.

Pero tumila ang ulan kaya lumarga kami ng Ladies Market sa Mongkok.

Doon ko napatunayan na hanggang palengke lamang ng Munoz ang kakayanan sa pambabarat ni Jowa.

Ako ang tunay na Tawad King! (HK $ 150 mula $270, HK $50 mula $140, 5 underwear mula alok na 3).

Pagbalik, naligaw kami sa kahahanap sa Night Market ng Temple Street (na walang temple?), nakipagbunuhan sa puputok nang pantog dahil walang makitang wiwiwihan (salamat sa McDo!), at nalito sa muling paglalakad ng mahaba pabalik sa Kimberley Hotel (mali ang mapa o ang basa namin sa mapa).

Hindi ko ipagpapalit ang karanasang 'yan sa Disneyland.   

ISANG ARAW NA TUMULO ANG LAWAY NI ATENG

Mura lang daw ang mga bilihin sa Hong Kong.

Kaya sinubok naming mamalengke.

Sa Park Lane Shopper's Boulevard, sa MTR East Station, sa Harbor City, sa Canton Road.

Mura nga.

Napamura kami sa malalaswang presyo.

TSING TONG TSAI

'Yan ang bigkas ko sa lugar kung saan kami tumuloy (Tsim Sha Tsui ang tunay na ngalan nu'n).

Malapit lang sa Nathan Road kung saan una naming pinasyalan ang St. Andrew's church na kasama sa ruta ng self-guided tour map na ipinabaon ni Bulan.

At siyempre pa, pansit (isang uri ng Laksa) ang una naming kinain sa may Hillwood Road na nagkataong may simbahan din ng nanay ko (Sabadista siya).

Meron pang isang simbahan na kulay cake (Rosary Church daw) habang hinahanap namin ang tamang daan patungo sa Hong Kong Museum of History.

'Tsaka isang mosque sa may Kowloon Park na madalas naming madaanan.

Pagkatapos ay wala na kaming magawa kaya hinanap namin si Bruce Lee sa Avenue of Stars (kasama niya sina Jacky Chan, Jet Li, at Samo Hung) at nagpipipityur ng mga turistang nagpipityur (meron pang higanteng bibe sa Harbor City).

Medyo hindi ko yata feel ang Hong Kong.

Para siyang isang malaking department store na ang pangunahing inilalako ay ang Disneyland.

Dito na yata itinambak ng sosyalistang Tsina ang lahat ng kapitalismo sa nasasakupan nito (one country, two systems nga daw).

Pagbalik namin sa hotel ay nagkagulo ang reception desk sa aming billeting.

Kaya pinainom muna ako ng isang basong beer habang inaayos nila ang gusot.

HOW THE NEO-NAZIS DROVE ME TO COLOGNE

The clock in the photo below showed the exact time I checked out of my hotel as police started cordoning the Theaterplatz area in Bad Godesberg, the left wheel of my overloaded luggage busting off as police let me off their barricade into an undecided moment whether to take the slow underground train to Cologne or the faster regional train, seeing my first neo-Nazis gathering in a park as I made way to the regional train station, and smelling them up close and personal as I get up the train while they get out.

[The polizei is seldom visible on the street and I have never seen so many of them in Bonn and in serious deep green uniforms too!]

[My first option was actually to stay around and satisfy my curiosity on how neo-Nazis look like, maybe take some photos, until my Greenpeace colleague whose hotel is right in the line of fire decided that the best way is to take off, which I did in deference to my Oxfam sponsors who I'm sure want me to do the same].

I have plenty of time to kill in Cologne.

But I thought I've seen it all so maybe I'll just get a closer look of some of the famous 12 Romanesque churches starting with St. Andreas' near the train station where a bum-doubling-as-usher-for-tips told me to come back after an hour because a mass is going on (that's my camera exposing me which I have to tote like a tourist since the strap of my pseudo-camera bag snapped several days ago), to Great St. Martin's which is unfortunately closed for the hour even as the zipper of my pants joined my busted list while I desperately searched for a place to pee, and then to the Cologne Cathedral which I finally got to shoot with the right camera.

[I first heard about the neo-Nazi action from a UN security officer advising who I thought was a diplomat to avoid the Bad Godesberg area].

[Ate Linda while driving us to a Birkenstock shopping spree told of how the neo-Nazis crashed a Muslim demonstration in an Arabic school which resulted the wounding of several police officers.]

What's new are the 40,000 or so love locks in the Hohenzollern Bridge and an unknown church along the other side of the Rhine which waved to me as I desperately searched for the Chocolate Factory.

[Lando while driving us to the annual "Rhine in Flames" rites said that the UN has issued a high security alert status on the Bad Godesberg event, which means that there is a high probability of violence erupting.]

Tired and wafting of putrid urine from an unrelieved bladder and a 3-day old replacement trouser, I settled for a lunch of pork Schnitzel and a glass of beer which is the cheapest I can find in the menu, retrieved my luggage-with-the-busted wheel crammed with cheese and sausages and my jeans with the busted zipper and the camera bag with the busted strap, and took the Platform 10 S13 train to the airport.

[Except for a bottle of water thrown at the neo-Nazis aka NRW by counter-protesters, no other adrenaline rushing incident occurred at the Bad Godesberg demonstration. I should have stayed.] 

UNIVERSITAT - MARKT

 I was here.

Two years ago, reminded the pleghm-colored tiled walls of the tunnel, on a rush to catch the last train to Bad Godesberg after overspending time with the Oxfam Team in a pub somewhere in Bonn.

The Universitat-Markt Station is familiar indeed.

But not what is outside of it.

The Universitat

I emerged from the station tunnel into the spacious grounds of the University of Bonn and, on this particular day, to tourists being regurgitated from buses and swarms of people enjoying the first real day of summer in various ways.

My way is to steal shots of them, including the biker below who might have decided that watching an all-girl football game is more fun.

The Markt

The Markt is just across the road in the courtyard of the old Town Hall, hundreds of years of history etched in its cobblestones, its portable food stalls competing with the trendier shops of various sizes for the Euros of the descended summer horde.

I lunched along a store corner the saving-for-pasalubong way --- grilled sausage in bread with catsup (the options are mayonnaise and mustard which for me are yuckier) washed down with Coke, before finally tracking down that elusive and equally hundreds-of-years old Name of Jesus Church on narrow Bonngasse Street, bedecked with enamored birch trees being a May Tree day, and from there revisited the Bonn Minster this time for the crypt beneath the high altar where the decapitated remains of sainted Roman legionnaires Cassius and Florentius are allegedly kept, and to the Bonn City Museum where the silence of the artifacts and my lonesome visitation amplified a whirling sound inside my camera which I heard for the first time, before finally gawking at a huge and greened-with-age statue of an Ernts Moritz Arndt somewhere along the Rhine Promenade. 

That's when I called it quits and decided to bypass the Juridicum and Museum Koenig Stations for another time.

That night, I met up with Usec. Fred, Jasper, Yeb, and Lando at the Bad Godesberg Station.

That night, we had pansit and oven litson at a Filipino expatriate's birthday party where Lando took us, and politely refused several invitations to do the videoke.

That night, we built a bonfire boy scout style along the Rhine to cut the evening chill and watched as ferry boats paraded for the big moment when the Rhine will rise in flames, failing miserably in our attempt for a tripod-less flash-less low light photography, and somewhat disappointed that high-tech Germany would be a letdown in terms of a fireworks show.

But other than that, it was a big exclamation mark for an otherwise dull week of a workshop and round table discussions...