The last time I was in Paris, the European continent was sizzling due to the heatwave.
Me and my travelling buddy took a side trip to Barcelona and Paris en route to attend a friend's wedding in London. We were supposed to represent our company's CEO in that wedding hence it's a freebie trip. My TB (travelling buddy) had relatives working in Spain and France so our accommodations were taken care of . As espoused by the queen of irony - Jessica Zafra of the impending world domination of Filipinos via diaspora - for wanna be globe trotters; start making lists of relatives to the nth degree of consanguinity living abroad or even people you are remotely related. You might need them if you ever caught the travel itch but can only spare for the airfare and pasalubong (presents/keepsake) or you will end up eating ramen all the time.
Filipinos abroad still practice their genuine unequaled hospitality . When my niece and I were in a hotel in Antwerp Belgium, the Filipino Concierge offered to cook us adobo and rice after learning we were gallivanting Europe for 11days and rightly assumed that we missed them badly . It was such an unexpected wonderful gesture.
The Aunt and Uncle of my TB worked for a Lebanese couple (on a holiday somewhere) whose house was about a block away from Musee d Orsay. They graciously offered us their quarter which was on the top of the apartment building (referred to as pigeon houses) , elevators were so small that you can tell what the other person had for dinner when he/she exhales/inhales. Despite the cramp accommodation, dinners were provided for us (first time ate frog legs)learned to eat grapes with Kirin cheese, we got our own tourist guide in Pilipino and Kapampangan and we had the grand view of the Eiffel tower from our pigeon window.
I equate the Eiffel Tower to romance and glitz but my visit on that hot August changed that perspective.
After completing the usual tour of Musee d Orsay, Louvre (was not impressed with the Monalisa) and other touristy point of interest around Paris, the surrogate Aunt and Uncle took us to the Trocadero Garden for Eiffel Tower tour and to fraternize with the Filipino expatriates in the city. The unrelenting heat wave forced most of the Pinoys out of their quarters and would converge on both sides of fountain of Varsovie in the Garden . Even in France, the ethnic regional division was palpable that on the right side of the fountain the Filipino natives from Central and Northern Luzon had their base while the left plank was dominated by the Tagalog speaking Pinoys. The right wingers warned us not to cross the other side of the garden for they have a grudge against the Filipinos there.
After alighting from the Metro, admiring the bronze statue Taureau et Daim (Bull and deer) and Chevaus et Chien (horses and dog) on the approach to the fountain, our aural senses were greeted by Vincent Dafalong's (a Filipino novelty singer) Bikining Itim (Black Bikini), blaring from a karaoke machine . The OFW (overseas foreign workers) were assembled on the grounds of the park. We were invited in their impromptu picnic, Filipino foods were abundant from the never ending pansit (noodles) to balut (fertilized duck egg). Manicure, pedicure, hilot (massages) and hair cutting services were offered, raffle tickets for t-shirts and bead bracelets from Boracay were peddled (albeit very much overpriced), old editions of Filipino newspapers and magazines were passed around, smiles frozen for cameras , children playing and palaver of gossips and news exchanged.
That's a piece of the Philippines in Paris, I felt so at home that for a fleeting moment I had forgotten that I was in the City of Love not in Luneta Park . OFW's life had never been easy for the family left in the islands and even more difficult to the Filipinos who had to leave their native land. I can not comprehend why some Filipino tourists are sometimes embarrassed by the presence of OFW on downtown areas in the various foreign countries they visit. Maybe they don't want to be stereotyped as domestic helpers. Hello, these contract workers are the pillars of the Philippine economy.
After mega doses of Yoyoy Villame's accented arias, Rico Puno's ballads and gas inducing servings of palitaw (flat sticky rice cake) , we reluctantly leave for the tour of Eiffel Tower but not after a plastic bag of puto (steamed rice cake) was handed to us for the road. We promised our new found friends to visit them again before we leave for London.
Every time I see that famous landmark in the media, it never fails to evoke in me of the memories of those OFWs. They were there to better the lives of their family, enduring loneliness and alienation, oblivious to the splendor and beauty of their adopted city, while we, the regular tourists spend money in order to see and experience a Parisian lifestyle. Ain't that ironic?
Me and my travelling buddy took a side trip to Barcelona and Paris en route to attend a friend's wedding in London. We were supposed to represent our company's CEO in that wedding hence it's a freebie trip. My TB (travelling buddy) had relatives working in Spain and France so our accommodations were taken care of . As espoused by the queen of irony - Jessica Zafra of the impending world domination of Filipinos via diaspora - for wanna be globe trotters; start making lists of relatives to the nth degree of consanguinity living abroad or even people you are remotely related. You might need them if you ever caught the travel itch but can only spare for the airfare and pasalubong (presents/keepsake) or you will end up eating ramen all the time.
Filipinos abroad still practice their genuine unequaled hospitality . When my niece and I were in a hotel in Antwerp Belgium, the Filipino Concierge offered to cook us adobo and rice after learning we were gallivanting Europe for 11days and rightly assumed that we missed them badly . It was such an unexpected wonderful gesture.
The Aunt and Uncle of my TB worked for a Lebanese couple (on a holiday somewhere) whose house was about a block away from Musee d Orsay. They graciously offered us their quarter which was on the top of the apartment building (referred to as pigeon houses) , elevators were so small that you can tell what the other person had for dinner when he/she exhales/inhales. Despite the cramp accommodation, dinners were provided for us (first time ate frog legs)learned to eat grapes with Kirin cheese, we got our own tourist guide in Pilipino and Kapampangan and we had the grand view of the Eiffel tower from our pigeon window.
I equate the Eiffel Tower to romance and glitz but my visit on that hot August changed that perspective.
After completing the usual tour of Musee d Orsay, Louvre (was not impressed with the Monalisa) and other touristy point of interest around Paris, the surrogate Aunt and Uncle took us to the Trocadero Garden for Eiffel Tower tour and to fraternize with the Filipino expatriates in the city. The unrelenting heat wave forced most of the Pinoys out of their quarters and would converge on both sides of fountain of Varsovie in the Garden . Even in France, the ethnic regional division was palpable that on the right side of the fountain the Filipino natives from Central and Northern Luzon had their base while the left plank was dominated by the Tagalog speaking Pinoys. The right wingers warned us not to cross the other side of the garden for they have a grudge against the Filipinos there.
After alighting from the Metro, admiring the bronze statue Taureau et Daim (Bull and deer) and Chevaus et Chien (horses and dog) on the approach to the fountain, our aural senses were greeted by Vincent Dafalong's (a Filipino novelty singer) Bikining Itim (Black Bikini), blaring from a karaoke machine . The OFW (overseas foreign workers) were assembled on the grounds of the park. We were invited in their impromptu picnic, Filipino foods were abundant from the never ending pansit (noodles) to balut (fertilized duck egg). Manicure, pedicure, hilot (massages) and hair cutting services were offered, raffle tickets for t-shirts and bead bracelets from Boracay were peddled (albeit very much overpriced), old editions of Filipino newspapers and magazines were passed around, smiles frozen for cameras , children playing and palaver of gossips and news exchanged.
That's a piece of the Philippines in Paris, I felt so at home that for a fleeting moment I had forgotten that I was in the City of Love not in Luneta Park . OFW's life had never been easy for the family left in the islands and even more difficult to the Filipinos who had to leave their native land. I can not comprehend why some Filipino tourists are sometimes embarrassed by the presence of OFW on downtown areas in the various foreign countries they visit. Maybe they don't want to be stereotyped as domestic helpers. Hello, these contract workers are the pillars of the Philippine economy.
After mega doses of Yoyoy Villame's accented arias, Rico Puno's ballads and gas inducing servings of palitaw (flat sticky rice cake) , we reluctantly leave for the tour of Eiffel Tower but not after a plastic bag of puto (steamed rice cake) was handed to us for the road. We promised our new found friends to visit them again before we leave for London.
Every time I see that famous landmark in the media, it never fails to evoke in me of the memories of those OFWs. They were there to better the lives of their family, enduring loneliness and alienation, oblivious to the splendor and beauty of their adopted city, while we, the regular tourists spend money in order to see and experience a Parisian lifestyle. Ain't that ironic?
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| I. M Pei Pyramid in Louvre |
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| Gustave Eiffel's Tower |
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