inglorious wanderer

The moment I set foot on Hyde Park, I thought of Central Park in New York. Central Park is much much bigger and maybe San Diego's Balboa Park is even bigger. But Hyde Park has a character of its own just like many historical landmarks. Aunt Pauline pointed out to me the Speakers' Corner and she made me pose like I am giving a speech. I think Speakers' corner is the most significant part that give the park its character. I was amazed at how people congregated in Hyde Park. I wondered if they have no other place to go. It was Saturday afternoon. I posted the above picture at Facebook and I called the grassy kind of secluded place "Making-out grounds". After seeing several people lazing out in the grass on a Saturday afternoon at Hyde Park's Making-grounds. I wanted to remember that feeling of "if you can't beat them, join em". I couldn't wait to get home to my babe.

Any visitor would understand the restriction. No phones, no cameras. Illustrated edition. The restriction however did not nclude tablets. Tablets just like what Moses had for his ten commandments long before Apple Store came up with their own modern version and equipped them with cameras. The Ten Commandments still appply. Thou shalt not steal. P.S. If thou can't help it, don't get caught. Escuzi my Lord. I do can't help it. I'll email you my act of contrition. It was a Sunday afternoon and the barricades that would keep visitors from entering the St. John the Baptist Doumo while the mass is on going had just been removed to let visitors in. I tried my best to look solemn while I was viewing the shroud. Discreet and tablet in hand. Joy Magbanua, my host and new abyan (she comes from Iloilo) hovered and kept distance while I approached the encased burial cloth of Jesus Christ. I was in awe to remember reciting the act of contrition in my mind. The mass was over. The c...

Benvenuti a Torino! It was a rainy welcome to Turin. The Italian immigration officer took some time to inspect and question the traveler ahead of me. An African descent. If he had the blue or maroon passport that Americans and British hold, it would have been easier for him to move through. He keep getting documents from his handcarry bag to show the officer. I wonder if he is having a difficulty because of his dark skin. Finally, he was waved through. And finally, my turn. "So you're a tourist?" "No, I am a visitor." To the immigration officer, a tourist and a visitor are probably one and the same. But I was not in Turin as a tourist. I was there to visit my sister's grave. Caselle Airport is not that big. If it is not as big as Heathrow, it would be fairly small. Maybe the same size as Stansted Airport in London. I went straight to the bus ticket booth. SADEM. I was able to purchase a ticket for Torino. I asked how much and the lady answers me in Italian. ...

The British barista at Starbucks London at west end couldn't figure out what I wanted. "Didn't you order black coffee?" "Yes, cafe americano with room for cream" She was beginning to look exasperated. First I asked for half and half and now, room for cream. "Is that something used for coffee in a foreign country?" an Indian-looking staff wearing a tie comes to the rescue. "Yes, it is half cream and half milk," I replied. The Indian-looking Starbucks staff seemed to understand my English but he didn't say anything. He didn't say that half and half is not available nor tell me there's no room for cream. I regret ever asking. Never mind. Cancel. Forget about it. I couldn't decide what to say. I remember co-workers from India when I was working in Saudi Arabia. They took pride in speaking English the way their British colonizers spoke the language. Instead of using "Dear Sir" to start their letters, t...

It's nightime in London. Back home, it would be another afternoon in the 80's in America's finest city.