Tropical Girl vs The Cold

If I were to list down my stressors among the top notchers would have to be: The Cold.

For a tropical girl, it was already a major stressor for me in our offices and buildings in the Philippines. I really do have a very low tolerance level for the cold. I would set the air-conditioning at 22 or 23 (Celsius), anything lower than that was not only cold, but REALLY COLD for me. Now, in a country with four seasons and global warming wreaking havoc all around, the cold does not get to be funny at all. But in times when you feel that you have hit rock bottom, it can be comforting to know that you can bank on love to keep you warm (haha—cheesy! But true… ;)


A funny anecdote on warmth and cultural differences:

I remember the first time I came to visit BE. It was during the summer and the first thing we did was to leave my things in our hotel in Amsterdam, which was were my plane landed. Amsterdam: where legal weed, space cakes and prostitutes are so commercialized BUT still worth a try--the latter one I wasn’t able to try though. Hehe (just kidding!)

In the hotel lobby, I saw a nice painting mounted on the wall and below it was a wide-white metal object that I had also seen in photos of K’s room prior to my visit. I exclaimed my admiration for the painting and then touched the big metal bars and uttered, “This is nice. It’s like the one you have in your room noh… what is it??”

While trying to keep a straight face, K replied, “It’s a heater.”

For a split second I looked at him and then spat out a laugh which turned out to be a succession of giggles (like I am always prone to doing). It would have been embarrassing for me but really, I cannot imagine a house in my country having a heater (Baguio maybe??)…just like I cannot imagine a house in Belgium having air-conditioning. In the movies they don’t really say: “Oh, what a lovely heater you have.” or “This is our heater. Don’t you think it’s just lovely?” Hence, I never knew what a heater looked like…until that day.

For sure, I will never mistake a heater for anything else ever again and I will always have one funny heater incident tucked under my belt.

--End of Anecdote.


On a serious note, I am faced with the reality that the cold will always be a part of my life from now on. More often than not, it is something the sun cannot even beat into submission. I will have to constantly battle it and struggle with it. They say keep your friends close; your enemies closer.

The cold is my enemy. The cold is my friend.

LEVEL 2: 500 Euros and The Wackos (from the Huis van het Nederlands)

And so I begin with another chapter in the Huis van het Nederlands series.

We started our class last Monday. Immediately, when I entered the room (I was late during the first day, as usual. Haay...some things never change!) a booming voice was reverberating and it was coming from a Mexican looking guy (okay, booming and reverberating might be a bit of an exaggeration…let me just say then that it was quite "AUDIBLE”). I didn’t mind at first and thought, “Well, it’s just Day 1. Some people can just be like that; Don’t Judge, Jacki. First impressions don’t normally last. Things will be okay for your next two months of classes.”

I sat beside A, my Italian classmate from Niveau 1, together with D, the Russian Mafia (just kidding!). Ofcourse, on Day 1 you are supposed to bring money for the book that is to be used for that semester. Being the me that I am, I forgot to bring cash and well…they didn’t accept Mastercard. Hehe So the forgetful ones were given the chance to pay the next day and those that weren’t as forgetful paid for the textbook: 18 euro.

The trainer went around to collect money from the rich and the paupers were left to stare off into space or for those who were interested, indulge in the casual “What is your name?” and “Where are you from?” conversation with their seatmates.

Now for the juicy part:

When our trainer reached the guy who was talking loudly when I came inside the room, he made a big sweeping gesture to take out his wallet from his back pocket and took out the only bill he might have had there…yep! You guessed it right! 500 euros.

500 EUROS?!?!?! WTF? In Belgium, 500 euros can get me and K Ryanair (plane) tickets to almost half of the Schengen countries. 500 euros in the Philippines is worth a 2 week stay in the island of Malapascua WITH MEALS. So, what I’m getting at, is that 500 euros, moreover, a 500 EURO BILL, is a lot of money…and it is also something that is quite rare here and that you don’t get to see much of. And to pay for just an 18 euro book and ask for 478 euros change (whoops! 482 ;P ) is quite silly. The trainer then said that she didn’t have change (ofcourse!) and told the guy, well let’s call him “500 euros”, that he can pay the next day, when he'd have change. The trainer then stepped out to get the books from the secretariat.

When the trainer came back with the books she distributed it to the people who were not forgetful and sane enough to pay the adequate amount. When 500 euros didn’t get a book he bellowed (and this time I am not exaggerating): “Howboutmybook? Wherzmybook??”. He apparently had a not so coherent French-Algerian accent.

The trainer, a bit appalled by his outburst, tried to calmy say, “You will get your book tomorrow when you pay.”

“ButIhavemoney! Whydon’tyougiveme abook?!”, while saying this 500 euros took out again his…tadah! 500 euros! Waving it in the air like a national flag.

“I don’t have change so I will give you the book tomorrow when you give me a smaller amount.”, the trainer patiently explained.

“ButIhavemoney!”, 500 euros insisted, “Okay, I’llgiveyoumymoney, yougivemethebook, andthenyou givemethechangetomorrow.”

All 10 of us, the students of level 2 with our new mini-United Nations group with a representative each from: Ecuador, Bulgaria, Italy, Russia, two from Iraq, Albania, Thailand, Turkey, and me, the Philippines…all 10 of us began looking at each other and was united by one single thought: “What the hell is wrong with this guy???”.

In the end, the trainer won and he put his 500 euros back in his wallet.

Whew! The days went on and the wacko continued being a wackjob and in some instances, his wacko-ness seemed to contaminate the other people in the group. Unfortunately, the trainer didn't seem to be helping any either. So just today, after one week of agony, D and I asked to be moved to the morning class. Bah, we made up some "valid" excuse. Some people you just couldn’t stand. I think this new one is better (except for the fact that S is there--ajajajajajaja)… I KNOW it's gonna be better. I can just feel it... *wink*