Italia!

My friend Titus, economist slash banker slash backpacker, sent this pictures when he went to Italy. I wonder if he goes to these places by himself.

Florence

Bologna

Venice

Siena

Долотина: The Slavic Connection

I have always wondered where my family came from. My family name didn't strike me as Spanish, so I was pretty sure one side of my family didn't spring from the Spaniards, neither were my native ancestors issued names by the colonizing missionaries. It didn't sound well, native enough, like Katigbak or Panganiban. But it does sound European, I just couldn't figure out which part of the continent we probably sprang from.

A few years ago, a cousin I haven't seen for a long time gave me a lecture on family history. She said our great, great grandparents said that an Italian guy travelled with the Spanish friars and eventually married and settled in Dauis, in Panglao, Bohol. I remained skeptical because I thought my last name didn't sound Italian enough. I tried searching the internet for Italians with similar last names as I did and found nothing. But surprisingly, in Singapore my Greek boss asked me if I had an Italian heritage. And so the Italian connection is probably correct. After all, Greeks live next door to Italy.

Except that further research in the internet reveals the Italian guy probably descended from the Slavs of Eastern Europe. I was so surprised when I found out that I shared last names with people called Ekaterina, Galina, Kamila and Irina, all based in Russia, the Czech Republic and Latvia. In Slavic script, it appears as Долотина. Kewl.

So there you are. One side of the family probably branched out from the Caucasus mountains, as some ventured out down far south and west to Italy while the rest remained in Russia and the Baltics, producing off-springs that came in contact with the exploring Iberians, the Spaniards. The Italian-- much like Columbus (another Italian) and Magellan (a Portuguese)-- served under the Spanish crown as an assistant to the proseltyzing Spanish friars, travelled to Mexico, and with the route taken by the Galleon trade in Acapulco set out for either Manila or Cebu before finally settling in Bohol.

The thing is, the name isn't widely used in either Spain or Italy, but more widespread in Slavic countries, especially in Russia, which means that only a small number probably ventured out southwest to Italy and Spain. People, I'm reconstructing the geographic movement of the genes here.

Yes you are absolutely correct. I am not doing anything productive right now.

It's That Time of the Year

Christmas is about sharing, loving, giving and of course...

...endless videoke singing! It is Christmas morning and I woke up to my next-door neighbor's full-blast rendition of Dancing Queen. There's three of four more houses with caterwauling Mariah-wannabes fellating the microphone. The only consolation is that no one is singing April Boy Regino's greatest hits or imitating that high frequency guy in Air Supply.

Few days earlier, my landlady bought a brand new amplifier and DVD player. Problem was, she didn't pay attention to the attendants on how to set up her sound system. And since she dislikes reading manuals, she called me up to sort out her problem.

Now that's her sound system's all set up, she's blasting like a rocket into space.

To my friends in Australia, Singapore, Germany, the US, Mars and here in the Philippines, Malipayong Pasko Kaninyong Tanan!

Axed!

The first time I used Axe Deo cologne in college was my last as well.

Beaming like a kid who just found an Easter Bunny egg, my dorm mate, Marino exclaimed, "Aha! I know that scent," to all and sundry. It didn't help that, for comparative purposes, he smelled like Drakkar Noir.

Marino is now a lawyer, I think. He went to prison on hazing charges (if memory serves me right), got out, married a socialite and got himself featured in a bridal magazine or something. According to Marc, Marino is now a raging homosexual. (Marc, baka you confused him with that namesake of yours who hails from Bacolod?)

Early Signs

In grade school, a little girl sang on stage a weepy number called Oh My Mama. Her mom, who taught her the song, was in the audience as well. The little girl was half-sobbing, teary-eyed and was looking at her mom's direction while her mom and some audience members were singing along.

The audience was so touched some were choking with emotions and wiping their eyes. It was like watching Flor de Luna live.

I think I was the only one who wasn't impressed at all. I know, early signs of kill-joyhood.

Gifts

I once gave somebody a figurine for Christmas. It was one of those kris kringle events wherein you just have to contribute to community spirit and camaraderie by giving each other gifts. She was probably expecting some sort of a sculpture. It was a sculpture all right, of some bird perched on some tree.

I can never forget her priceless expression upon opening the gift: from giddy excitement to uhm, obvious disappointment followed by forced merriment, it felt like watching a balloon deflate in really, slow motion.

I'm not really good at sending gifts. I gave Che a yellow Hello Kitty key chain, not knowing that the blasted cat doesn't come in any other color but pink. To my office colleagues I gave some of them yoyos. In grade school, I lost count of the number of times I received and sent handkerchiefs and socks during Christmas. I once gave a gift consisting of Cheez Curls and a face towel.

Hey, I got some really weird gifts, you know. At the Kalayaan Hall, somebody gave me a pair of scissors...unwrapped! I also got a baseball cap wrapped in an SM plastic bag! I think Frodo gave me surplus corporate giveaways complete with company logo and stickers. In keeping with the White Christmas theme, Titus once gave out Colgate white flouride toothpaste along with...with...adult diapers! Adult diapers!

So for this year, what would I want for Christmas?

World Peace and a Greener Environment na lang. And some Acqua di Gio.

Idol

Pacquiao pummeled and hammered the highly-favoured Oscar de la Hoya into submission in the 8th round in what appeared to be a lopsided affair.

At the end of the fight, however, Manny told de la Hoya: "You're my idol."

Predictably, de la Hoya retorted, "No, YOU are my idol."

You may now roll those eyeballs.

"Te Amo," said Manny. "NO, mahal kita", said Oscar.

OK, I made up that last bit.

Now let's move on with our lives. I have deadlines to meet.

Language Conversations II

Last night, I spoke with Ambrose via Skype. He's been in Germany for like, four years already and so I asked him if he can now speak in fluent, conversational Deutsch.

"Yes I can. I had no choice but to learn the language," he said.

"In one of those scientific conferences, I even asked some questions in German," he added, proving once and for all that he has conquered Goethe's language.

"And?" Still skeptical I asked him, "they understood you?"

"Yeah."

He's currently writing his dissertation in gasp! solar physics! I wonder if his computations can still fill up a whole cartolina or manila paper.