First Summer Weekend of 2005
Almost as if on cue, summer un-officially started at the East Coast on Memorial Day weekend. The long holiday had most New Yorkers heading for the beach - the Hamptons, Cape Cod, or the beaches of the Jersey Shore or Long Island.
One week after we experience our first highs in terms of temps and more heat and humidity is expected the next few days before some rain brings a temporary relief.
On Saturday I went with a friend to Long Island. What had started to be a midly cool damp morning turned out to be a perfect day for browsing the wares at the Nautical Mile Festival at Freeport. Afterwards, we sat in an Irish bar for lunch, gulping down mini-burgers, fries and barbeque wings, the water along the Woodcleft Canal reflecting the bright summer sun and the cloudless heavens. There were amusement rides sprinkled along the length of the festival venue - one that caught my attention (and breath) was one that flipped its seats upside down. Nope, I didn't take a chance. We headed for the pig race (which I thought was hilarious but actually fun). As for the winning piglet, I hope he gets spared from a Filipino table for the next day's Independence festivities at the park in Manhattan.
Taking advantage of the great weather, we drove south of Freeport and basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun along the boardwalks of Long Beach, Lido Beach and Atlantic Beach. One thing I find amusing is that Americans love the beach but when they do come, they either play ball on the sand, sunbathe, throw frisbees, sail, fish, surf or dive. I told them that where I come from, people go into the water and just stay there for hours, swimming or just talking. I remember long mornings or afternoons (we get out when the sun is too hot) until our fingertips loooked like prunes. And when we went to bed at night, you could still feel the movement of the waves.
Long Island on Saturday
Today, Wally and I arranged to meet at Grand Central station to head for Coney Island in Brooklyn. It was going against the advise of everyone we know. The M.O. warned me that it wasn't anything like the beaches at Long Island. So clad in our flip flops and summer outfits, Wally and I met up and decided to walk to take the D train on 42nd and Park.
On the way, we met many Filipinos on their way to the Independence Parade and so we decided to just peek and see. As we turned on 41st and Madison, we were surprised by the en masse turnout of many 'kababayans' who were either watching or participating in the parade. First, we bumped into Wally's cousin who handed us a bottle of water and a bag of skittles.
The parade was a week early of the actual date of commemoration of the Philippine's Independence from its last colonizer (hmmm, totoo nga bang independent na tayo?) of June 12. In parade-crazy New York City however, June 12 is the Puerto Rico parade.
NYPD officers riding on horseback brought in the red,white and blue of the US and the Philippines and then the parade began. Float after float of beauty queens of many titles, interspersed with marching bands and men in kilts playing bagpipes (I LOVE this sound!!!) made me feel like a child. I waved my freebie Philippine flag (from my friends from BPI) gleefully, sometimes clapping and ever so glad we took a detour from our Coney Island trip.
I take pride in being Filipino - the reputation we have established as hardworkers, intellectuals and beautful women (bow). In New York, the common pick-up...errrr, breaking the ice line I get is often: are you Filipina (and I sometimes say yes) then immediately followed by: are you a nurse?
I detest however the common Filipino traits among them, of making a sport out of picking faults or criticizing other people. PINTASERA, is the exact word that has no appriate equivalent in Engish probably because it is criticizing often times out of envy. Then there is this constant urge to make everyone else's business their own: PAKI-ALAMERA. When the high sun lifted the shade on the sidewalk where we had positioned ourselves, everyone around us shifted backwards to the shadows. Wally and I stayed under the sun hoping to bronze our arms as much as we could. Then we heard unsolicited concern from the people behind us: "Hoy, mainit na diyan, mapri-prito bunbunan ninyo!" (Hey, its too hot you'll fry your scalp!) or "Naku, lumilim na kayo o di kaya eh bubuhatin ko kayo!" (Hey, come to the shade if I have to carry you here myself!".
I realized these were among the reasons I DETEST about being in the midst of other Filipinos. A backward kind of mentality that not even having lived in a more progressive country has changed. Fortunately for me, the Filipinos from my organization have left behind this negative trait at the baggage carousel at the airport. I realized it is not even by level of education that Filipinos have this terrible attitude. The women behind us were from my college alma mater. Hay naku...
A day that started full of patriotic pride was doused by the reminder of a disappointing reality about my heritage. Why are we the way we are, anyway? Wally and I walked away, deciding not to dwell on our annoyance. We headed towards the direction of the Filipino streetfair on 28th Street and downed our frustration with food we grew up with: liempo fresh from the grill, lechon paksiw, sweet catsup-flavored spaghetti downed with sage-gulaman. On the way to our ride home, we bought for Renee some boat tarts and balut for our dinner.
Images from the Independence Parade at midtown
One week after we experience our first highs in terms of temps and more heat and humidity is expected the next few days before some rain brings a temporary relief.
On Saturday I went with a friend to Long Island. What had started to be a midly cool damp morning turned out to be a perfect day for browsing the wares at the Nautical Mile Festival at Freeport. Afterwards, we sat in an Irish bar for lunch, gulping down mini-burgers, fries and barbeque wings, the water along the Woodcleft Canal reflecting the bright summer sun and the cloudless heavens. There were amusement rides sprinkled along the length of the festival venue - one that caught my attention (and breath) was one that flipped its seats upside down. Nope, I didn't take a chance. We headed for the pig race (which I thought was hilarious but actually fun). As for the winning piglet, I hope he gets spared from a Filipino table for the next day's Independence festivities at the park in Manhattan.
Taking advantage of the great weather, we drove south of Freeport and basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun along the boardwalks of Long Beach, Lido Beach and Atlantic Beach. One thing I find amusing is that Americans love the beach but when they do come, they either play ball on the sand, sunbathe, throw frisbees, sail, fish, surf or dive. I told them that where I come from, people go into the water and just stay there for hours, swimming or just talking. I remember long mornings or afternoons (we get out when the sun is too hot) until our fingertips loooked like prunes. And when we went to bed at night, you could still feel the movement of the waves.
Long Island on Saturday
Today, Wally and I arranged to meet at Grand Central station to head for Coney Island in Brooklyn. It was going against the advise of everyone we know. The M.O. warned me that it wasn't anything like the beaches at Long Island. So clad in our flip flops and summer outfits, Wally and I met up and decided to walk to take the D train on 42nd and Park.
On the way, we met many Filipinos on their way to the Independence Parade and so we decided to just peek and see. As we turned on 41st and Madison, we were surprised by the en masse turnout of many 'kababayans' who were either watching or participating in the parade. First, we bumped into Wally's cousin who handed us a bottle of water and a bag of skittles.
The parade was a week early of the actual date of commemoration of the Philippine's Independence from its last colonizer (hmmm, totoo nga bang independent na tayo?) of June 12. In parade-crazy New York City however, June 12 is the Puerto Rico parade.
NYPD officers riding on horseback brought in the red,white and blue of the US and the Philippines and then the parade began. Float after float of beauty queens of many titles, interspersed with marching bands and men in kilts playing bagpipes (I LOVE this sound!!!) made me feel like a child. I waved my freebie Philippine flag (from my friends from BPI) gleefully, sometimes clapping and ever so glad we took a detour from our Coney Island trip.
I take pride in being Filipino - the reputation we have established as hardworkers, intellectuals and beautful women (bow). In New York, the common pick-up...errrr, breaking the ice line I get is often: are you Filipina (and I sometimes say yes) then immediately followed by: are you a nurse?
I detest however the common Filipino traits among them, of making a sport out of picking faults or criticizing other people. PINTASERA, is the exact word that has no appriate equivalent in Engish probably because it is criticizing often times out of envy. Then there is this constant urge to make everyone else's business their own: PAKI-ALAMERA. When the high sun lifted the shade on the sidewalk where we had positioned ourselves, everyone around us shifted backwards to the shadows. Wally and I stayed under the sun hoping to bronze our arms as much as we could. Then we heard unsolicited concern from the people behind us: "Hoy, mainit na diyan, mapri-prito bunbunan ninyo!" (Hey, its too hot you'll fry your scalp!) or "Naku, lumilim na kayo o di kaya eh bubuhatin ko kayo!" (Hey, come to the shade if I have to carry you here myself!".
I realized these were among the reasons I DETEST about being in the midst of other Filipinos. A backward kind of mentality that not even having lived in a more progressive country has changed. Fortunately for me, the Filipinos from my organization have left behind this negative trait at the baggage carousel at the airport. I realized it is not even by level of education that Filipinos have this terrible attitude. The women behind us were from my college alma mater. Hay naku...
A day that started full of patriotic pride was doused by the reminder of a disappointing reality about my heritage. Why are we the way we are, anyway? Wally and I walked away, deciding not to dwell on our annoyance. We headed towards the direction of the Filipino streetfair on 28th Street and downed our frustration with food we grew up with: liempo fresh from the grill, lechon paksiw, sweet catsup-flavored spaghetti downed with sage-gulaman. On the way to our ride home, we bought for Renee some boat tarts and balut for our dinner.
Images from the Independence Parade at midtown