Postcard: Copenhagen

Here are a few snapshots from an afternoon spent walking through Copenhagen. My apologies for the blurry shots. Once again, I forgot to bring my camera charger so all these shots are from my phone. In spite of trying very hard, I failed to spot Tyler Brule. As he has singlehandedly voted this city the Number One Most Livable City (in the World, baby), you'd think he'd be here more often. Maybe he is here, but I didn't spot him because he only hangs out in exclusive, I-know-the-owner places that are unknown to little people like myself. And, in fairness to him, I can imagine that hobnobbing with handsome locals can take much time and energy that would otherwise have been spent walking around.

I haven't been here long, but in general I find it pretty in a relaxed, village-y, polite way. It doesn't jump out at you in a Grande manner like Paris, or emit a bohemian vibe like Amsterdam, or disorient you with its rich art and chaos like Rome (or Manila). And why does it seem that all there is to eat is herring?! 

So, I like it, but I doubt I'll have trouble leaving after this. I find myself finally agreeing with Tyler: Copenhagen is definitely one of the world's most leaveable cities.

Cover of 'In a Matter of Speaking' by Nouvelle Vague

Year of the Pig

What exactly is lechon kawali in English? Pan fried pork belly? Iki7's recent lechon discovery in Wales seemed to hint of a larger spectre spreading across the globe -- the spectre of lechon. After hearing her news (and growing nostalgic for pork) I came home to find the Chef busy salting a very large, square slab of pork belly, bought fresh from our favorite London butcher. I've watched pigs being butchered without flinching, but seeing this pork piece made me feel a little squeamish for some reason. Laid flat, it literally looked like a carpet of flesh, barely managing to fit onto the kitchen counter. Raw and slightly pinkish, it was something that would inspire Silence of the Lambs villain Buffalo Bill into making a floor length evening gown. No matter. After a bit of preparation -- which included setting off the fire alarm and producing a porky smell that drifted to the far corners of our conservative neighborhood -- what emerged from the oven was nothing less than fiesta-quality lechon kawali:  crispy skin and tender pork held together by a juicy chunk of fat. Naturally this was dipped in soy sauce and vinegar with chili.

I guess this means the neighbors are finally aware that we're Pinoy. 

Read about the actual making of London lechon kawali here.

Fat chance

Tall, blond, sexy corporate hottie falls for smart, witty librarian. The catch? She's overweight. No, seriously. Politeness aside, she's gigantic. He's committed to her, but is put under pressure to dump her when his friends find out that the new girlfriend is, um, a bit large. Will he stay with her? Or will he buckle?

Fat Pig, a new comedy by Neil LaBute, is showing at Trafalgar Studios until September 6th.  It stars Robert Webb (the attractive half of the British Mac versus PC duo) and Ella Smith (who seems to be the last plus size actress still working. Good on her!) Will it be a reflective and moving play about the nature of love, or a boorish comedy that relies on cheap fat jokes? The plot sounds like a meaner, less uplifting version of Hairspray. But, fingers crossed, I'm watching it anyway. At the very least, I'll get to see what a living, breathing Mac looks like in person.

He's a Mac, she's a PC

Oh, tell me what you want

...what you really, really want. Chili fries? Barbecued spare ribs? Well, you'll probably find both at Spice Grill's.

Spotted near Shepherds Bush.  I think the apostrophe 's' just makes it.

Rizal

Happy birthday to Jose Rizal, Philippine national hero, whose brief, passionate, and ultimately tragic narrative still lives on 147 years after his birth.

Above are a few Rizal themed events.* And below is a glimpse of indie filmmaker Khavn de la Cruz's Rizal-steeped Ultimo.

Rizal -- whom in death still remains the life of the party.

*Thanks to erasmusa for links to the Philippine events!

Cine

Speaking of icons, my beloved Jessica Zafra -- frizzy-haired, grumpy, X-Gen icon of my frizzy-haired, grumpy generation -- came out with a review of Sharon Cuneta's new movie Caregiver, which previewed in London a few weeks ago. She wasn't moved, but added:

'Most of us work, all of us have problems. It is also possible to experience alienation and isolation in your homeland. How about a little respect for the Pinoys who stick it around and do the best they can in truly trying circumstances? No one has a monopoly on suffering, but everyone has a unique story. We need fresh insights on the Pinoy experience at home and abroad...'

I agree, but insist that movies about the Pinoy experience in the Philippines are no less subject to recycled cliches. Skin flicks, golden hearted prostitutes (male and female), the homogeneous urban poor -- one frustrated, cinema-going friend called it the 'fokfok-ization of Philippine cinema.' I don't see how Pinoy films can be any less cliched unless the film industry itself becomes less of a corporate, profit-driven cliche. 

But, having said that, thank goodness for the Philippines's thriving independent cinema scene. 

Read the rest of Jessica's review here.

And the trailer for Caregiver is below. 

That's, like, hot

Each generation gives birth to its own set of icons, whose names or faces trigger collective, sepia-stained memories of one's 'youth.' I think the current crop of sleek, Internet savvy, Facebook and myspace kids will inherit Paris Hilton as their poster child. 

Paris, whose unexpected staying power has bumped up her status from garden variety media whore (literally and figuratively) to -- I dare say -- icon. To be fair, she's merely one of many emerging icons for this generation, as I'm sure emos (among others) reject the idea of her being a cultural beacon of any sort. But an icon need not be positive or agreeable, yes? She's here, we're stuck with her, so why not accept her and subject her to cultural deconstruction while we're at it? God knows she's open to it, so to speak.

Joel Stein  does this surprisingly well in his Time Magazine essay Requiem for Bat Boy:

'I want to live in a place where information is so pervasive that people are too smart for tall tales and Photoshop tricks, where our fake headlines are metajokes in the Onion or skewering irony on The Daily Show. It's actually a sign of progress for a society to go from inventing gods and monsters to seeking catharsis in the real life of Paris Hilton. We no longer need to conflate fiction and nonfiction to explain our world...'

Paris Hilton as a sign of social progress? Sure, why not. Maybe she'll even inspire a musical. 

Read Joel's full article here.

Postcards: Milan

Horsey activity at the Castello Sforzesco ('the Castle')

Crowds swirl around the Duomo

Sweeping generalization based on anecdotal evidence: In spite of living in The Fashion Capital (where 'shopping is like a religion,' according to Lonely Planet), the Milanese don't appear any more dressed up than normal Big City dwellers. 

Was I out on a bad day?

South Park Mac vs PC