Seen on 4th Street

Saw a grotesquely large sunflower in a small community garden. It's head was so monstrous I just had to take a picture. Got a few amused stares from two people, but hey, I'm not from around here really. I'll get more stares this fall again when I'll feel the need to dress as if it were already winter.

As I was saying, I found the sunflower near the 4th Street entrance to the Chester Park Hiking Trail. The little 6 by 6 foot square of community flower garden wasn't one of the better ones I had seen around the city. It looked forgotten and somehow dusty. I felt just a little bad treating the sunflower like a circus freak.

***

To my understanding these gardens are cared for by neighborhood volunteers, usually a garden society. At the beginning of spring or summer, they get together to plant flowers in several parks and little garden nooks all around the city. Soon, these little nooks become bursts of color.

It amuses me sometimes to think about how passionate the locals are about their gardens. When I go for walks I often see couples, sometimes just the man or woman of the house and sometimes even college roomates puttering around with little shovels and trowels in their front yards. There are special gardening gloves, little stools, special plant food and fertilizers. Even special gardening bags and trays.

It amuses me because back home, people don't spend much time or money on gardens. I remember my mom would sometimes plant tomatoes or go to gardening stores to buy potted plants. But any sort of regular gardening activity in the Philippines consisted mostly of standing around with a water hose in hand and gossiping with the neighbors. The really nice looking gardens in rich naighborhoods are often cared for by house help or hired gardeners and are mostly decorative. Only the the passionate orchid collectors tend to their own gardens. I also think we tend to take gardening for granted because plants did not need much coaxing to grow. My childhood is full of memories of picking avocados and atis in the rainy season, indian mangoes, chicos, guyabanos and aratilles during summer. Guavas were there for the picking year round. I marked the seasons by the fruits I could pick.

In a parallel sense, time here in Duluth is marked by the precious three or four month that flowers can survive. Perhaps that is part of the thrill and the excitement and I guess the wistfulness in flower gardening. Flower, in all their delicate, exquisite, beauty are nothing less than an appreciation or celebration of a season of sun. By the time the season of fall arrives, gardens wilt away, leaves and bushes turn from green to gold, to yellow.

I find it difficult to let go of summer here in Duluth, probably because back home it feels like it's summer more than half the year. I agree that fall is beautiful, and winter has it's own mystique. But these days I feel a mild panic when I see trees and bushes that are starting to turn. I feel a strange compulsion to protest the snow and steady approach of winter.

Clearly, I need to leave Duluth as soon as my studies are over.

Found in the fruit aisle

Blue Funk

ONE of three noun definitions of the word funk from the online Webster dictionary describes it as "a: a state of paralyzing fear; b : a depressed state of mind". I can't explain the fog that has decended on me these past few days. I am restless and the thought of the approaching Fall semester is making me anxious.

I can only guess that the shorter days and the colder wind have something to do with it. Yesterday, I was wearing jeans and a white cotton blouse and I was so cold outside. I had to dig out my formless, fashionless, gray fleece sweater so I could spend two hours photographing in the UMD Rain Garden.

As we have been wont to do this whole summer, C. and I have kept all windows in the apartment open. But last night, I shut about half of them. I also began to wear my flannel pajamas again. This morning, I noticed that the bushes in our backyard are showing yellowing leaves here and there.

It is inevitable and inescapable. We are now shifting from summer to fall and my tropical islander soul is screaming and wailing.

Yeah, yeah, my Duluth friends have told me again and again, "embrace winter! Snow is good!" Sinverguenza! ika nga ni Lola Aguida. Winter is a depressing season and statistics prove it (and I won't bother looking for the stats that say there are more suicides during winter months). There has got to be an easier way to get through winter.

Wide Open Spaces ~ Dixie Chicks

I love this song.

Alien in the Garden

"E.T." was my all-time favorite movie in grade school. But I could never appreciate or understand why Spielberg made the alien a botanist. To me this seemed like the most unexciting occupation for a space explorer. Why not make him a geologist or a cartographer?

Thinking about it now, I am not surprised that I was not impressed. I never saw myself possessing a green thumb. My only experience with the leafy kind was watering the class plants whenever it was my turn to be "cleaner". I was always envious of the boys who hacked at the earth with their small shovels and hoes in the little garden behind the grade school building. All we girls ever did during "Work Education" was sew, cook, paste things together, weave and sew once more. Any chance for me to become a botanist was squashed by our grade school curriculum.

Now, here I am taking pictures of plants and scrambling to identify them using the mighty oracle (the internet) and three thick plant guides. Crash course, ika nga. This is work that I do for measely student wages, but I am learning a lot. I take pictures of the rain garden plants all summer, catalogue them, identify them and am learning how to put them together in a website. It's an intimidating task, considering I never bothered to take any any Biology or Botany classes in college. But I am surprising myself by enjoying the work.

Plants have interesting and majestic scientific names pala. Take for example Aronica melanocarpa (Black Chokeberry), or Eupatorium maculatum (Joe Pyeweed). Some of them sound like the musica sacra pieces I used to sing in choirs in Quezon City. See, these are songs: Ubi caritas, Et misericordia, Fecit potentiam, Ave verum corpus. And these are plants: Viburnum trilobum, Geranium maculatum, Carex stricta. They kind of sound alike sa unang dinig and, well, if you did not take an elective course in Latin.

Some plant names sound like a disease, like Aster simplex (what you get when you sleep with a loose woman called Aster, or Aster umbellatus (sex with Aster's umbrella?). *Shudder * Or they sound like a neurosis, like Atennaria neglecta (what happens when rich parents neglect their Atenean kids). And some plants make me wonder about the hobbies of those who named them. Take for example Panicum virgatum "Heavy Metal" (common name Switchgrass). Ano raw? Could this be the panic one botanist felt after the booze buzz wore off and he realized that he deflowered a teenager picked up from a heavy metal concert?

Learning about these Minnesota plants makes me regret not knowing much about plants in the Philippines. I can't even name the plants I played with as a child. I wonder what the Makahiya is really called. How does it do that? You know, recoil when touched? It's an amazing plant. Nakakahiya that don't know much about the makahiya. Note to self: kidnap a botany major when you go home to Quezon City.

***

If you're interested, check out the pictures of plants I've successfully indentified so far.

If you're wondering what the UMD Rain Garden is, check here.

Best Diner in Duluth

Uncle Loui's Cafe
520 E. 4th St., Duluth, MN 55807
Tel. (218) 727-4518

I HAVE written about Uncle Loui's Cafe in a past post, but I want to write about it again because now I have pictures! C. and I had breakfast there this weekend. I ordered my usual: corned beef hash with eggs and a pancake this time (still too much for me) and C. ordered the biscuits, potatoes and gravy with a side order of bacon.

It was, as usual, a busy weekend morning for the staff of Uncle Loui's. All the booths were occupied and at the counter, only one or two seats were vacant. Every 15 minutes or so, new customers seem to be arriving and people finished with breakfast walking over to the counter to pay for their food. A guy seated to my left ordered a heaping plate of pancakes topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

This is diner food. American diner food, to be more precise. The servings are large, the food is greasy and carb and sugar loaded and is enough to feed a family of five in the Philippines. I go to diners because I don't like fastfood chains and I want to support small business owners. I go because it's a cultural experience. But I can't go too often because I don't need the extra pounds. There is one other diner in Duluth that we've explored. This one had an older clientelle. The customers looked mostly retired. They also looked like the human characters that populate "The Far Side" cartoon by Gary Larson. Maybe it was the far side. It was certainly the far side of Duluth. Maybe I stumbled into Gary Larsons squiggly universe. Unforunately, I can't go back. Last time we went by there was a huge "closed" sign on the door and the place seemed to have been cleared of furniture.

Uncle Loui's Cafe has a younger crowd: college-aged kids, young couples with their young families, mixed in with older customers. It seems to be managed not by a guy named Loui but a woman named Penny. I suspect the woman with short, red hair must be Penny. She has a commanding presence. You know she's in charge of the kitchen, or at least the serving. She remembered that C. prefers tabasco with his eggs and she has a very pleasant manner. I haven't had the chance to ask if she is indeed the famed Penny who will pay for your meal if you break the pancake record (8 pancakes is the current number to beat). Maybe when we go eat at St. Loui's again, I'll remember to ask.

Lakeheads

I KNOW I whine a lot about winters here in Minnesota. But if it weren't for that, I enjoy living in the state. The official motto is that Minnesota is the land of 10,000 lakes. As a person who grew up in the land of 7,100 islands, this statistic is not so bad.

Minnesotans are "lake heads". Almost everyone has a boat, a canoe or a kayak. Rarely are there places where you can rent these. On the Interstate 35, vehicles that aren't pulling a boat-loaded trailer are the exceptions. Driving through seemingly deserted county roads, the stretches are punctuated by gas stations and fishing supply stores. Diners proudly proclaim "Fishermen welcome", meaning they open in the butt-crack of dawn.

August is Funky

OI...Reading the news these past few days has been giving me headaches. First, there was Gloria Arroyo's Supermaids idea (hindi talaga ma-take ng kokote ko). Now there's this recent terror threat in London.

I love traveling. I don't like long, transcontinental airplane trips. They numb my butt and make me feel groggy days after the trip. But I bear with these because I like visiting new places. I like the idea that there are other realities out there that are so different from mine. I like incorporating these realities in my world view. I love to watch, to observe, to try different kinds of cuisine and learn about how other cultures spend their days.

But this, this nakakainis na war between the US, Britain et al versus whomever (I'm not really sure anymore who their enemies are). This impaktong pangyayari that affects all other countries na wala namang kinalaman, hay nako. Nakakaimbiyerna.

Two jobs I'm considering applying for are based in DC. This is making me think twice about them. I don't know if I can live with the stress of being in that city. I believe I've said this before. But kung titira din lang ako sa isang maselan na lugar, mas gusto ko pang tumira sa NY.

Ewan ko ba. August has been funky. Maybe it's because it comes before September and going back to school and this being my last semester. Maybe it's because August has Duluth poised over the precipice of winter. I savor the sun and the warmth and dread the cold and the snow that will take over this quiet city once again.

Even my body is whining. Been very good to it by taking walks every day. Even jogging a bit every now and then. But yesterday, my throat felt scratchy and I had a headache for the better part of the morning. Last night, despite careful hydration, I had spells of dry cough. I might have even dreamt about it. Don't want to get sick. I've got so much work to do to prepare for September.

What I would personally like to do to Gloria Arroyo

OH MY GOD. Tangina talaga. Walang katapusang katangahan. I've been in a bad mood all morning but this, this, this stupidity is making me fuming mad.

Supermaids

Gusto kong umuwi

TANGINA gusto kong umuwi. I love that it's summer now and the sun is out and I laugh my head off and smile when the locals complain of the heat. But leche, what I would give right now to stand in the middle of the UP Coop, in my slippers, in my shorts and munching on isaw. Gusto kong mag-dive sa Puerto Galera. Gusto kong magtampisaw sa Bohol. Gusto kong tumambay sa Delaney hanggang 11 pm, kumakanta with the crazy, perpetually tardy people of Coro de Sta. Cecilia. Okay lang. Sige, kahit lagi silang late. I'm just so homesick right now.

Reading R.K. Narayan

From "New York Days" in The Dateless Diary

YESTERDAY, at the self-service cafeteria, I made the mistake of waiting for someone to ask what I wanted. Today I know better. You enter the cafeteria, pull out a 'check' (on which prices are punched) from a machine, pick up a tray and spoons, and study the various dishes displayed on the long counter under a glass cover, trying to judge what's what and how far a vegetarian could venture--whether that attractive yellow stuff might not be some prohibited food such as lobster; the men here evidently do not like anyone to stare so long at their display; one of them asks in a surly manner, 'What do you want?'

First Lake Superior Swim

IT WAS more like a dip really. I never thought I would submerge myself in Lake Superior's chilly waters. I had heard stories that it was too cold, even in the summer. And that only real, true-blue, genuine northlanders or people with Scandinavian heritage could survive a dip in the lake.

Hindi naman pala. Yakang-yaka.

I was out on the Lake Walk with C. yesterday when we saw some kids splashing about in the lake. And if little, itty-bitty kids could, I probably could, right? So we walked to shore, took our shoes and shirts off and went in. Sarap! Refreshing on a muggy summer afternoon. Too bad alang photographic evidence.

August 1st

INDEED, it's that time of the year again. Every day will be a query. Every click on "check e-mail" button, every peep into the mailbox a masochistic, electric, hopeful exercise. I thought I was through with this. But I guess there will be some years when yes, you do have something to say and you wonder if you can say it the best possible way.

Hoping for the best, indeed.

On Sweat and Brown White People

BY SOME strange quirk of nature, weather here in the northland is almost the same as weather in tropical Manila: Rainy, stormy. Hot and muggy. I'm the only person who seems to enjoy it. Well, maybe just me and the other handful of Southeast Asians in Duluth. Americans are used to dry heat. Duluth locals are used to frigid temperatures (most vacation in Alaska in the summer). To them these summer temperatures and humidity have been unbearable.

My officemate B. says she feels suffocated in humid conditions.

"But it's good for your skin!" I say.

"Oh, I still don't like it!"

I guess it's mainly about the sweat. The sopping, sour, sticky days of sweat. I don't have this kind of sweat because, hey, I'm Filipino. I shower two or three times a day in this weather and I have pores built to regulate humidity. When I do sweat, it smells like Body Shop's Mango Shower Gel. Mmmmmm!

I am so glad I am not in France right now where the sweat must be rancid.

***

Sometimes some teens here get a little carried away with their tanning salon obsessions. There is this episode in the show "Friends" where Ross gets thrice the amount of tanning spray he should have and the result was not a tanned look but a chocolatey burnt look.

I saw an attractive teenage girl last weekend who looked like she just came from a tanning salon massacre. She must have selected the "dark chocolate" spray or slept for days in a UV chamber. She looked hilarious and not at all sexy or cool. I think she fairly got the idea that she looked ridiculous because when I saw her I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ika nga ni lola, mukhang ikiniskis sa puwet ng kawali.