One Less Egg to Fry

My person is leaving.

Actually, two of them - as I found out last night that another friend is moving to his hometown. The first, back to hers. It's an Exodus from Sydney-town it seems, or my life. Two persons leaving.

Grammatically, I should say "my people" are leaving, but that makes me sound like Moses leading "his people" across the Red Sea. Or Braveheart at the charge. Or Harry leading broomsticked witches across the Thames to fight that dude with the white-hair. You know what I mean.

So they're leaving. The In-Case-Of-Missing-Keys person. The bully-you-with-honesty person. The OMG-it-is-a-bad-date-give-me-an-out phone-a-friend person. The "that's-what-friends-are-for" person. The family-you-choose person. The no-plans-let's-make-some person.

I am thankful I have these people, and even more so the ones who still party the good party (at least in my immediate locale), still in my heart and on speed-dial.

And so, as much of a tribute to them as I sit in their stable of people from a far-away land (and to those that do stay), but fortunate to participate in the bask of their effervescent glow as brightening my world albeit shortly, wallow with me a little while I turn their departure from Sydney in to MY sorrow.

I know I should be happy, but all I do is cry.

If I added any more songs, I'd hurt.

I Miss You - Bjork
Miss You - Etta James
I'm Gonna Miss You in the Morning - Luther Vandross and Patti Austin
Miss You Much - Janet Jackson
Neither One Of Us (Wants to be the first to say goodbye) - Gladys Knight and the Pips
One Less Bell to Answer - The 5th Dimension
Never Can Say Goodbye - Isaac Hayes

And as a bonus. A brilliant LIVE version of The 5th Dimension's "One Less Bell to Answer" from Soul Train.


(Passage of the Red Sea: Source)

Paris, A Baker's Dozen (#2): Visionaire/Lacoste Boat Party

Oh lord how do I even begin to discuss this one. Probably one of the B-E-S-T parties I have been to - in my life.

Imagine this - timed with a blue Eiffel Tower for its first night heading the EU (see more here), aboard the decked out Le Paquebot near Pont D'iena and with a star-studded attendance (Eva Mendes, Karl Lagerfeld, Mark Ronson) - this party was wow.



Then add to that Lady Bunny's huge personality (and wig), beats from SpankRock and oh - Santogold icing more cool cred on the Siene. She was amazing, fierce and friendly at the same time - and she brings it. She has a presence, fullstop. She sang all my favorite songs from her debut album, and she worked the crowd like anything when she sang L.E.S Artistes. HA!


Best of all - I got to hang out with one of my dearest friends (thank you JOpa) who I've known since those awkward teenage years where we both found our obsession for Madonna. Go V!
Download: Santogold and Diplo's "Top Ranking" Mixtape

Guys Don't Make Passes at Gays Who Wear Glasses

While I know others who despise wearing eyeglasses despite necessity, I secretly like wearing them. I get to hide behind them on occasion - and sometimes, they work so well I often get asked if I wear glasses when let them rest as I don contacts.

I've been wearing glasses since I was 14. My most memorable pair - my second, were thin wire frames that were roadkill once it fell from my lap as I let them defog from the cold air-conditioning of my car when I jumped out of the driver's seat to steal a poster of the first X-Files film for my cousin, if you're good - you'll know that was in 1997. The irony of charity.

Since then I've moved on to sturdier plastic - with anti-reflective, double-glazed lenses (so technical no?), fully flexing the muscles of experimental dabbling of geek chic in the early 00's.

The pair above is #4, from 2002. Nice dark brown frames boxy enough to just sit below my eyes. I've been wearing them on and off since 2002 with a short break as I experimented with other styles and contacts. I love them.

This one is #6, I got in 2006 - attempting to appear avant-garde and contradicting myself from the heavy dark frames I had been wearing, I picked up these clear glasses from D&G.


And taking a cue from D&G (and Viktor & Rolf and D-Squared) from last month's 2009 S/S shows where they sent just about every model in eye glasses (don't you love my segues?) I decided to do some upgrading on the spec-front. Say hello to #7.


First, since I couldn't find Persols to turn in to eyeglasses - and inspired by Terry Richardson's bespectacled portraits, I had Jose - the optometrist at Karishma at the Wentworth Hotel in Sydney convert tortoise shell Ray-Ban Wayfarers into specs. This feels out-there poseur style, the round frames off set my fat cheeks.

And since it was early in the morning before work - I really only intended to stop in to "just see" what stock was available - the big looming "SALE" signs calling my attention - I browsed some more and found a second pair that looks the same-same but different. Bigger glasses, boxier, and oh John Varvatos - I could wear it with the Jack Purcells he designed. And given that Jose was an affable salesman - and that I still had a why-the-hell-not attitude left over from my va-cay I returned home from the day previous. I got these too.


As a friend said, "you look like a hot Asian nerd" - I guess if anything I don't mind being a walking, talking oxymoron.

Ciao Italia: Live from Italy

Hold up, hold up, hold up - before you think I am about to start singing "Who's That Girl", or at the very least emulate the Queen as she writhes and whirls along Venetian canals singing along to "Like a Virgin" - let me just say that, no - that will not happen.

Although I can only hope that there are people out there who will certainly enjoy that, I'm not about to in my current state of mind - being offline for a week while I cruised (double entendre intended, although the "cruising" part was unoften and unsuccessful), and finally trying to catch up with myself after 3 and a bit weeks of being away from home. I am here, barely - as I just realised I have 31 hours of flying time ahead of me crossing the Atlantic tomorrow to NYC then the Pacific next weekend to get home.

I do miss home somewhat, except glad I am away this week as it will be M-A-D-ness in the wonderful walls within Emerald City as the Pope graces the "great Southern land of the Holy Spirit" (did he really mean NZ? I think dude was confused, I mean look at him - can we say car-azy?!) and with about 200K pilgrims sampling Sydney's world-renowned gay clubs and saunas, oops - I mean Sydney's great open spaces for camping and manic Kumbayah-ing. Imagine adding 5% to a population in a week, that's an Olympic-sized audience, the gay bars won't know what hit 'em.

So while the Pope visits my home, I got to do a little switcher-oo as my little journey has taken me to Roma - his home. Or should I say the seat of Roman Catholicism amid the clusterfuck of old remaining buildings dotting this fine city.
Check me looking all pious. I am repenting my evil gay ways. Although, let it be known that since I got to London three weeks ago and traveling as I did - I have never been so touched and surprised by the deep deep roots of Christianity I was subjected to as I visited Church, after museum after monastery, after grave - that I felt this huge surge of guilt about sodomism. To avoid any Circles of Dante's Hell - I just gave head instead. Wait, did I just say that? It's the nasty gin they served at a bar called Hangar earlier tonight - making me all honest. I really went to Rome to absolve sins and wash my unholiness in the many holy fountains in the city (or should that be watering holes).

And so before we get back to regular programming, sing (or writhe) along. Watch Madonna's Like a Virgin from the Confessions Tour

Paris, A Baker's Dozen (#1): The Eiffel Tower in 13 Sittings

So as not to bore anyone with a random collection of a gazillion photos of one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world - here's another baker's dozen to start off this list. I first saw the Eiffel tower as I climbed the crazy escalators of the Centre Pompidou after being in transit most of the day. It was mid-evening, but being the summer it was bright. The clouds were sparse. The setting was perfect, and to be fair - surprising, as I didn't understand that as you reach level 6 of the Beauborg you would be floored as the city's expanse is majestic - and one of its many jewels doesn't disappoint.

The following days I'd get to see it from Pont Neuf, up close, across the way from the Trocadero, behind the Arc de Triomph, from the window of the Metro and twice, for its daily encore when its lights would sparkle for 10 minutes at 11 PM.

And as for the last time I saw it - that was special too. It was the first day that France would head the EU for a year. To mark that occassion, the Eiffel Tower turned a shade of blue and found a way to put the stars it tried to reach - right on it's chest.

See all 13 "sittings" of the Tour Eifel here.

Around the World in 32 Days: A Baker's Dozen Special (Introduction)

Raph-locator: currently in Barcelona.

To prepare for the onslaught of "how-waz-its?!" from everyone back home and to really justify my wtf-woah-really good-times on a four week leave from Sydney (3 for play, 1 for work) and to somehow give context to over 3,800 photos I have somehow managed to take in just four cities in 2 weeks (8 more to go - and yes I am snap-happy) - I'm going to attempt to give order to a random list of the best of everything I love/adore/amor from this trip.

Alas, without a proper moment to fully absorb each city on my mammoth trip in situ as I move from one to the other at a hyper-pace of packing and unpacking then studying the next city in transit (I only prepare HOW to get from airport to hotel and figure the rest out - sightseeing, food, etc as I go along - smart right? ha! thankfully I have guides for each one), and with no solid internet connection - I've resolved to take a baker's dozen of the best random things I love from each one. Call it post-partum appreciation.

So why a baker's dozen? Just because. I love the concept of lists, and trying to find order and themes and whatever. Also, it's the number of people in the Last Supper which would really be an allusion to the unexpected deep dive in to Christianity I've encountered on this trip. But before you say your 'Amen's, while most everything in this trip was wholesome, not all of it is holy (so you'll have to keep coming back

I'll start randomly, although it is the one I did just leave behind, Paris.

Goodbye Diet, Hello Heartburn

Ouch. I officially threw my diet out the Iberian Air window as I went from Paris to Barcelona - demarking each departure and arrival with a BIG meal. Country Pate (entree) THEN Chicken with bleu cheese cream sauce and pommes frittes? Lunch in Paris.

In Barcelona - I opted for the most mentally-comforting lipid-reproducing stomach-expanding food of "home" - the only Filipino food in the Raval district of the Time Out Barcelona guide I picked up. I had pinakbet (stir fried quatro stagioni style veggies with pork and shrimp paste) and lechon kawali (deep fried pork) oh and garlic fried rice.

And so now, my heartburn will either give me nightmares or keep me up all night.

The American Way, Irish-style

Back at work we're doing employee peer assessments in the belief that the view of your co-workers will improve your general professional demeanor in the fulfillment of your fuller career path within the wider company.

While this might work in a utopian workplace, I thought about how this might work in real life - and I found a more apt symbolism... grocery store aisles. Well more specifically, a take on another culture's goods as represented by a large discount chain.

This week in Ireland, Lidl (think Aldi) has "USA Week!" - a special section for Americanized goods suited for a cross-Atlantic audience. And while I liked to browse "McEnnedy" products (see they even "re-Gaelic-ize" an already popular Irish name - Kennedy) - their catalogue consisted of dried cranberries (Craisins!), authentic marshmallows, and chilli mixes... this however, popped out of the aisle...

You like? Not only Hot Dogs - but canned hot dogs!

Not to say I am an expert in American culture, but if this were a workplace, I'd be bringing this up in a peer-assessment form. In a quiet Irish country town untouched by obvious global industry (a lone Subway flies that flag, imagine - no Starbucks OR MickeyD's - the closest one is an hour away. I will however be corrected since Magee's up the road provides Donegal tweed to Burberry) - the idea that Americans buy hot dogs in a can (vaccuum sealed no?) must be normal.

That being said, American industry has for decades misrepresented other cultures in their grocery aisles (and those countries that import them, case in point - the Philippines where SPAM is part of the local fare)... and yet another (my sister's favourite, she eats it with rice)...


I wonder what the Austrians think of that?

Who Knew?

The Irish country side rendered me speechless - this country really is beautiful. And contrary to the greenery we are fed in postcards and ads (see left) - I got to see the Irish coastlines and beaches, more of it than you can imagine. And damn are these beaches pretty, all they need is the sunshine (it's ok I'm talking about the weather, EVERYONE here does). Pristine sands, rolling clouds and sheep - everywhere.





Here's what I got to witness when we went down to Maghera Strand. Apparently vikings came through here in 702 (!) my god the history in these rocks and sands. The dunes went for 16 kms, there were caves to explore but high tide and the lack of will saw us stuck in the sand...

And as if we hadn't had enough of jumping (there were more - check them here) - I thought I'd try my hands on the ground, upside down... this, to more than anyone, was a shock to me. Who knew I could hand stand?

The Mac Dad will make you: Jump, Jump!

And in the case of hanging out at the majestic Rossnowlaugh after a morning of hefty Irish rain where blue skies reigned - my sister, rather than just being my sister holding a camera taking crappy tourist-y posing shots - took the situation at hand and turned in to Mac Dad.

Or Daddy Mac. Regardless, she got me... well, you get the idea, but being the older sibling - she naturally led by example...


And just because with family you're wont do to silly things, I got in to the spirit of it.


More photos are here.

As much as allusion becomes homage, let me extend my love for a 90s classic some more - and that won't be wearing my clothes on backwards - I tried it once when I was a fat 12-year old, it was uncomfortable - here's that tune that inspired my shoulda neva have sartorial faux pas, or in this case my "ebordraw".

Enjoy - Kris Kross "Jump" (D*L*I*D Remix)