Do something you've never done before
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I've never been big on birthdays. I don't like celebrating mine. Maybe this is why we don't go for the giant birthday parties for our kids. I try to make an effort for theirs. For my own, I'd rather sleep off the entire day. I even get a bit sad weeks leading up to my birthday. Y'all know it's a milestone year for me. And this is my birthday month. Patrick wants to celebrate with a major party. I'm still in denial.
Last week I emailed my mom and told her that this coming birthday is stressing me out. My mom emailed back and shared a few cliches - "Life begings at ____." And "____ is the new black." And "Don't worry, you don't look ____ at all." Gee thanks, Mom. I can't even fill in the blanks. Then before she ended her email she said, "Do something you've never done before." Ma? Is that you?
I posted in my facebook: "On turning a year older, my mom says 'do something you've never done before." Half of me just wanted to show off that I have a really cool mom. But I also wanted to hear what my friends had in mind. The smart alecky ones wrote stuff like bungee jumping and sky diving. Typical midlife crisis cliches. I can't think of anything I haven't done that I'd like to do except a few more little goals like write/shoot/publish a book. But that's work-related.
My brother Cyrus
My older brother Cyrus, who had his birthday yesterday (today in Canadian time), is always so cool about his birthdays. Maybe it's a guy thing. He did crazy things before he hit 40, like buy a big bike (a gorgeous motorcycle he hid from my parents, even though he already had 2 kids, a wife, a house and had been living away from my parents since he was 21) and only Lord knows if he got a tattoo. My brother is totally white collar, by the way (is that even still a PC term?) He's a WASP in Pinoy skin. He's our Alex P. Keaton. He just likes living it up and living well - big bike and all.
Well, he went on my facebook wall. And so did my mom. I'll skip the 20 other comments on the same thread from my other friends. Here's our conversation.
Cyrus: Go bungee jumping. Anyone can publish a book these days... Either that or lets to Spain in July and run with the bulls. I would do that again with you...
Me: Kuya, just take me to Spain on a food trip.
Cyrus: Done!
Mom: Go running with the bulls with your Kuya. It should be fun.
Me: Hi Mom! Spain it is. Kuya, say when. I'm serious.
Mom: Time to rebond with your Kuya. Don't worry, Dad and I will take care of the kids.
Cyrus: When you guys are here this summer let's take a 4-day weekend and head over. Fly into Bilbao and drive to San Sebastian - the best tapas in all of Spain and we can have dinner at Arzak, stay at the Maria Cristina hotel.
That's my brother. Impulsive, fun and mischievous. Opposite of me - reserved, a bit shy and always safe. We were born almost exactly one year apart. We grew up extremely close. Everyone thought we were twins. It was always just the two of us, until my two sisters were born six and eight years later. Sometimes I wish my daughters could have brothers. It's so special to have a big brother - all the roughness and toughness but deep inside you know they're gentle and they really love you.
When we were young he told me he would run with the bulls in Pamplona before he turned 35. And he did. He actually just picked up and left to go to Spain alone for a few days... and lived to tell the story. Here it is. The captions are all his words.
Pamplona - The Chupinazo, the ceremony that opens the fiesta of San Fermin, starts at noon. I found a spot right in front of city hall and had a few very nice total strangers to party with. This one was Jose, or Damian, or Carlos Primera, or something...
Then the priest says a prayer, and all of the idiots below raise their bandanas to be blessed. Note that the entire square is jam-packed with people. If I placed a quarter on my arm, it would not slide down to the ground.
Before the run - with first-class psycho, John Valencia, from California. He had the knee pads, elbow pads, and wore a cup!
Making it into the bullring after the run. They close the doors after the last bull gets in, so if you make it inside, it means there are still bulls behind you. I lost the psycho!
The next day, he watched the bull run from a balcony. He took these photos and recounted the feelings and thoughts that ran through his head.
Before the run... anxiously awaiting the rockets that mark the start of the run... heart starts beating faster... throat gets dry... it's pretty crowded and you start thinking "How the hell am I gonna run with all these people around me?" You hear the rockets go - first one pops, the gates are open... Second one pops - the bulls are out... Start jogging.
Then people around you start running faster, and faster. Then you hear the telltale sounds of hoofs getting louder, and louder, as the menacing bulls get closer. You hear the sound of panic in people's voices and abject desperation in their looks. Fear and panic sound the same in every language. What the f#$k was I thinking??? Your heart starts racing, and beating harder until that point when it drowns out the crowd around you, and you couldn't determine whether that ominous noise is your heart or the hoofs of oncoming beasts. When the bulls finally get to you, all hell breaks loose and it's every man for himself!!!
A rare shot of all 6 bulls in one frame. I can only describe the "moment" as a blur in slow motion. Time stood still when I found myself next to a 2-ton bull with rather sharp horns, then it quickly reverted back to fast-forward again. It all happened so fast, yet every image is freeze-framed in my mind, and every emotion is tattooed in my nerves. I know which of the hairs in the back of my neck were standing, and I know which ones were too scared to.
His adventure doesn't end there. For my brother, life is all about eating well. The guy can cook. I always told him that if he ever hit a brick wall in his business or he goes through another midlife crisis, he can just open a restaurant. He is that good. But cooking and eating are too much of a pleasure for him, he says he doesn't want it to be a source of income. That trip to Spain had to have a meal in Arzak, a Michelin 3-star and ranked the 8th best restaurant in the world in 2009.
After my massive dinner at Arzak, with the Maestro himself, Juan Mari Arzak. I dined alone - they must've thought I was a food critic because I was on my blackberry describing each dish to Jules and giving her the blow-by-blow. Anyway, after I paid my bill, the maitre'd asked me to wait a minute because Maestro Arzak was coming out. Well, there he was, walking toward me with two snifters of brandy. My reservations were for 11pm, and this photo was probably taken at 2am. What a night that was!
Daph
Thanks for bringing this up... I have always wanted to write about this trip. I believe you suggested it 5 years ago when I first got back, but then life took over, and I never got to it. I'm inspired...
Love,
Kuysie
Happy birthday, Kuys. Now what am I going to do on my birthday?
.
.
I've never been big on birthdays. I don't like celebrating mine. Maybe this is why we don't go for the giant birthday parties for our kids. I try to make an effort for theirs. For my own, I'd rather sleep off the entire day. I even get a bit sad weeks leading up to my birthday. Y'all know it's a milestone year for me. And this is my birthday month. Patrick wants to celebrate with a major party. I'm still in denial.
Last week I emailed my mom and told her that this coming birthday is stressing me out. My mom emailed back and shared a few cliches - "Life begings at ____." And "____ is the new black." And "Don't worry, you don't look ____ at all." Gee thanks, Mom. I can't even fill in the blanks. Then before she ended her email she said, "Do something you've never done before." Ma? Is that you?
I posted in my facebook: "On turning a year older, my mom says 'do something you've never done before." Half of me just wanted to show off that I have a really cool mom. But I also wanted to hear what my friends had in mind. The smart alecky ones wrote stuff like bungee jumping and sky diving. Typical midlife crisis cliches. I can't think of anything I haven't done that I'd like to do except a few more little goals like write/shoot/publish a book. But that's work-related.
My brother Cyrus
My older brother Cyrus, who had his birthday yesterday (today in Canadian time), is always so cool about his birthdays. Maybe it's a guy thing. He did crazy things before he hit 40, like buy a big bike (a gorgeous motorcycle he hid from my parents, even though he already had 2 kids, a wife, a house and had been living away from my parents since he was 21) and only Lord knows if he got a tattoo. My brother is totally white collar, by the way (is that even still a PC term?) He's a WASP in Pinoy skin. He's our Alex P. Keaton. He just likes living it up and living well - big bike and all.
Well, he went on my facebook wall. And so did my mom. I'll skip the 20 other comments on the same thread from my other friends. Here's our conversation.
Cyrus: Go bungee jumping. Anyone can publish a book these days... Either that or lets to Spain in July and run with the bulls. I would do that again with you...
Me: Kuya, just take me to Spain on a food trip.
Cyrus: Done!
Mom: Go running with the bulls with your Kuya. It should be fun.
Me: Hi Mom! Spain it is. Kuya, say when. I'm serious.
Mom: Time to rebond with your Kuya. Don't worry, Dad and I will take care of the kids.
Cyrus: When you guys are here this summer let's take a 4-day weekend and head over. Fly into Bilbao and drive to San Sebastian - the best tapas in all of Spain and we can have dinner at Arzak, stay at the Maria Cristina hotel.
That's my brother. Impulsive, fun and mischievous. Opposite of me - reserved, a bit shy and always safe. We were born almost exactly one year apart. We grew up extremely close. Everyone thought we were twins. It was always just the two of us, until my two sisters were born six and eight years later. Sometimes I wish my daughters could have brothers. It's so special to have a big brother - all the roughness and toughness but deep inside you know they're gentle and they really love you.
When we were young he told me he would run with the bulls in Pamplona before he turned 35. And he did. He actually just picked up and left to go to Spain alone for a few days... and lived to tell the story. Here it is. The captions are all his words.
Pamplona - The Chupinazo, the ceremony that opens the fiesta of San Fermin, starts at noon. I found a spot right in front of city hall and had a few very nice total strangers to party with. This one was Jose, or Damian, or Carlos Primera, or something...
Then the priest says a prayer, and all of the idiots below raise their bandanas to be blessed. Note that the entire square is jam-packed with people. If I placed a quarter on my arm, it would not slide down to the ground.
Before the run - with first-class psycho, John Valencia, from California. He had the knee pads, elbow pads, and wore a cup!
Making it into the bullring after the run. They close the doors after the last bull gets in, so if you make it inside, it means there are still bulls behind you. I lost the psycho!
The next day, he watched the bull run from a balcony. He took these photos and recounted the feelings and thoughts that ran through his head.
Before the run... anxiously awaiting the rockets that mark the start of the run... heart starts beating faster... throat gets dry... it's pretty crowded and you start thinking "How the hell am I gonna run with all these people around me?" You hear the rockets go - first one pops, the gates are open... Second one pops - the bulls are out... Start jogging.
Then people around you start running faster, and faster. Then you hear the telltale sounds of hoofs getting louder, and louder, as the menacing bulls get closer. You hear the sound of panic in people's voices and abject desperation in their looks. Fear and panic sound the same in every language. What the f#$k was I thinking??? Your heart starts racing, and beating harder until that point when it drowns out the crowd around you, and you couldn't determine whether that ominous noise is your heart or the hoofs of oncoming beasts. When the bulls finally get to you, all hell breaks loose and it's every man for himself!!!
A rare shot of all 6 bulls in one frame. I can only describe the "moment" as a blur in slow motion. Time stood still when I found myself next to a 2-ton bull with rather sharp horns, then it quickly reverted back to fast-forward again. It all happened so fast, yet every image is freeze-framed in my mind, and every emotion is tattooed in my nerves. I know which of the hairs in the back of my neck were standing, and I know which ones were too scared to.
His adventure doesn't end there. For my brother, life is all about eating well. The guy can cook. I always told him that if he ever hit a brick wall in his business or he goes through another midlife crisis, he can just open a restaurant. He is that good. But cooking and eating are too much of a pleasure for him, he says he doesn't want it to be a source of income. That trip to Spain had to have a meal in Arzak, a Michelin 3-star and ranked the 8th best restaurant in the world in 2009.
After my massive dinner at Arzak, with the Maestro himself, Juan Mari Arzak. I dined alone - they must've thought I was a food critic because I was on my blackberry describing each dish to Jules and giving her the blow-by-blow. Anyway, after I paid my bill, the maitre'd asked me to wait a minute because Maestro Arzak was coming out. Well, there he was, walking toward me with two snifters of brandy. My reservations were for 11pm, and this photo was probably taken at 2am. What a night that was!
Daph
Thanks for bringing this up... I have always wanted to write about this trip. I believe you suggested it 5 years ago when I first got back, but then life took over, and I never got to it. I'm inspired...
Love,
Kuysie
Happy birthday, Kuys. Now what am I going to do on my birthday?
.
.