If you’ve ever been to the newly sprung up, modern cities of the Middle East, it is no secret that Filipinos make up a huge part of today’s culture there. It seems that every hotel in Abu Dhabi, Doha or Dubai are staffed with Filipinos, working diligently and bringing their natural hospitality abroad. It is a win-win for everyone—the hotels get naturally hard-working, hospitable workers who speak English at a native level, while the staff have opportunities to earn salaries that they wouldn’t back home. Filipinos working in other industries flock to the Middle East as well—oil and gas being a major one.

Given the influx of Filipinos in that part of the world, it is not surprising that some aspects of the modern-day Middle Eastern culture would make their way to the Philippines as well—airplanes fly in both directions, after all. But on a recent visit to Manila, I was saddened by one particular element that seemed to be springing up—the idea of smoke-and-mirrors culture.

While the Middle East has a long and storied history as a trading post, today much of it has been reinvented into a playground for the rich. Oil money flows freely, and developers race to build the tallest, shiniest, sleekest, fanciest office and residential spaces they can dream up. In trying to attract buyers and wow the rich, there is little consideration given to historical context or the surrounding environment. And while there is some history there—there is not much else. Dubai was built on a sand dune, just the way Las Vegas was 60 years earlier in the Western United States.

The Philippines, however, is not the Middle East. It is full of a rich cultural heritage that is preserved today, a spiritual and energetic people who carry their flag proudly. Physically, it is a lush, green, fertile land that some of the world’s most exotic and unique species call home. There is no need to create something artifical, tall, shiny, sleep and fancy here—because the natural beauty is strong to begin with.

And yet, one of the developments I saw being sold was called “The Venice Residences”—something seemingly straight out of Dubai. Little homes built on the banks of a fake waterway, complete with verandas and gondoliers. And in my estimation, something so tackily forced in hopes of raising the real estate price tag.

I sincerely hope the Philippines—with all of its spirit and pride and natural beauty—will not fall into the trap of trying to copy the artificial culture of Dubai or Las Vegas, which don’t have the natural gifts to work with that should be appreciated here.

In the U.S., it seems like a must for any reality television show to have someone on the panel that boasts a heavy British accent. Whatever the reason, it catches our ear, women find it charming, and it creates memorability. Not to mention that just about everyone can reel off their rendition of a British accent on demand.

But while it makes enough sense intuitively that it would, I am still surprised every time the same effect occurs on the other side of the Atlantic. Despite that, it appears that British people have the same reaction to American accents as Americans do to theirs. Catchy, charming and memorable. And yes, the English do love to offer their renditions of American accents as much as we do theirs!

So if you’re in America and you want to be considered exotic, fear not…there still is a stage for you—in England.

For a country that sits so far north it’s often frozen, with parts that see so much rain you could float away, Canadians don’t use anything as an excuse to prevent them from enjoying the great outdoors. Taking great pride in their country’s abundant natural beauty, enjoying this beauty is ingrained into the Canadian psyche, no matter what the weather may be on any given day.

Whyte Islet, British Columbia

Business happens here just as it does anywhere else in the world, and yet somehow, people don’t seem to lose sight of what surrounds them and live with blinders, as too many of us are guilty of. When the weather’s nice, everyone is out jogging, enjoying the waterfront in Toronto or the Seawall in Vancouver. When it’s not, they just layer up and go for a hike, perhaps with cameras in tow to capture the beauty they are bound to stumble upon.

If there is one thing all of us can learn from Canada (and actually, there are many), it would be to disconnect from the concrete-and-cellular world we live in today, and reconnect with nature from time to time. It truly refreshes your soul.

One of the best ways to navigate Vancouver

In case you feel like hooping instead: Vancouver’s Kits Beach

Whistler isn’t only for skiing

But yes, we have that too

As any of you who have been to the Middle East know, it’s not unlikely that you may be wrestled from your first-morning jet lag by the croons of an imam with the first of his five daily azan, or calls to prayer–at least if you’re anywhere within earshot of a mosque (which you probably are). That served as my alarm clock on my first visit, and though it’s not exactly hummingbirds singing to the daisies, there’s a certain romantic, haunting quality about it–certainly a great way to remind you where you’ve awoken. Given that the call of the imam, or muezzin, is considered an art form, it’s usually somewhat melodic, albeit a bit tinny depending on the quality of the speakers…

Apparently, not everyone’s experience is so pleasant. Istanbul’s head of religions affairs has responded to complaints by setting up singing lessons to make sure that all 3,000 of the city’s mosques have a pleasant tune for the

neighbors. And for those voices that are just beyond repair?

The loudspeaker in the mosque will be linked to a central recording system that will broadcast a professional voice! Which begs the questions–why not just do this to begin with, and who exactly determines what the threshold of being able to sing vs. not sing is?

One of the joys of spending time in France, and indeed one of the very staples of French culture, is to spend your afternoons sitting in a café, sipping on a coffee, in the company of friends or at least a good book. If you want the full experience, add a semi-rude waiter to that equation.

You see, as charming as its cafes are, and as much of a premium as French culture places on gastronomy, service is not typically considered one of its strong points. If you know this going in, you can actually find the lack of service charming.

Here are a few tips to help you make the most of your experience:

1. If you’re on a tight schedule, take your drink to go:  Dining in French cafes or restaurants can be painfully slow at times. Don’t complain, just expect it and look at it as if you’re sitting in a theatre people watching.
2. Don’t order café au lait:  You want to impress the waiter with your knowledge of French, but in this country, that drink is enjoyed in the morning, at home, from a bowl. You’re probably thinking of a café crème instead.
3. Say your s’il vous plaits:   Manners are a must in France. Whatever you order, follow it with s’il vous plait.
4. Don’t talk back:  If you’re asked “how was it”, simply reply “tres bien”. If you didn’t like it, he doesn’t care, and surely isn’t going to do anything about it.
5. Keep the tip:  Part of the reason French waiters don’t have to be polite is that they aren’t dependent on tips. If you do get lucky and have a pleasant server, rounding up to the nearest euro or leaving a few euros on the table is more than enough reward.
6. Use all your senses:  Make sure to enjoy all of the sights, sounds and smells from the world surrounding you!

I’ve gotten a lot of questions as to why I included a skull in the IDmalaysia banner. I have no intention of portraying Malaysia in a negative, gory or violent light, but I was simply fascinated upon visiting Sarawak and learning about the headhunting culture of their native Iban people.

An early-1900s Iban warrior displaying his catch of two skulls

While it is perhaps now considered to be a dubious distinction, depending on who you ask, the Iban people are known as being the pioneers of the practice of headhunting, which was prevalent amongst fighting tribes in the 19^th century. The story is that during their peak, their native lands became overpopulated. As such, when enemies infringed upon their territory, there was no space to keep them alive. With confrontation being the only way to survive, killing those enemies and displaying the skulls as home décor (literally) was considered a badge of honor. It was believed that beheading the slain enemy was the only way to completely kill off his spirit for good.

While the culture of headhunting is now a thing for the history books, there have still occasionally been ethnic conflicts that have broken out in Borneo and brought back chilling memories of the past. As recently as the late 1990s, for example, 500 Madurese immigrants (from Indonesia) were killed—many decapitated—and tens of thousands were forced to flee when conflict broke out.

The sample interior decor of an Iban Longhouse

Sarawak proud of its heritage

Traditional mate gourd

So you finally made it to Buenos Aires, and you want to fit in among us, huh? While you may have brushed up on your wine tasting, cuts of beef and a few Spanish phrases, what you really need to learn is what mate is, and how to drink it!

See, while we definitely produce plenty of wine, this is what we really drink on a daily basis. I guess you can say it’s like tea, since it’s made from Yerba Mate tree leaves. But we like to think of it as something special, and our very own (although of course one may debate that its origins stem from Paraguay or Uruguay as well, but we’ll never agree to such nonsense).

A little bit of mate in your everyday diet will wake you up, lessen your appetite a bit (which is a good thing considering the copious amounts of red meat cheaply available here), and the doctors even say it is good for your blood pressure, immune system and pretty much every other part of your body.

Ready to join us?

Seven Dont’s of Drinking Mate

1. Don’t be Selfish: Sure, we all crave our mate in a pinch when we’re looking for some energy to get moving. But mate is really about sharing time with those we love to be around. We may even argue that the health benefits of some healthy camaraderie and conversation are just as real as whatever those doctors say mate helps with.

2. Don’t be Polite: Kidding, of course! But really, while your inclination may be to thank the server upon receiving your fill, in our culture, saying “gracias” means that you will be having your last pour of the session. So make sure you don’t thank the server until you’re ready to check out.

3. Don’t Touch the Straw: As you can see in the picture, mate is served with a straw-like device called a bombilla. Since the server is responsible for the flavor of the mate and will deliver it to the best of his or her ability, you may be offending someone by messing with it.

4. Don’t Ask for Sugar: While some parts of South America serve their mate with sugar (“dulce”), you probably don’t want to ask unless it’s offered. If you find the mate bitter at first, it will become a bit more mild as it is passed around. Hang in there.

5. Don’t be Reckless: You should be able to feel how hot the gourd is before you drink it. Just make sure to be cautious at first, as it may be scorching hot. Drink with caution!

6. Don’t Jump Right In: If you want to become a real mate drinker and buy your own gourd, don’t drink from it immediately. The first time you use yours, fill it will yerba leaves and pour in hot water. Leave it for a day, then rinse it out and you should be good to go.

7. Don’t Clean It with Soap: And for goodness’ sake, never use soap to clean your gourd! You’ll forever ruin the flavor. Unless you plan on spitting up all over it (which you shouldn’t), just rinse after each use and have another round!

Having traversed nearly 50 countries and explored countless metropolises along the way, I never feel more alive than I do while I’m experiencing New York City’s very own Union Square. While Central Park, Times Square and the Statue of Liberty attract most of the tourist interest in this world-class city, Union Square is where one can truly feel its pulse.

Spend an hour sitting on the rounded steps facing 14th Street on any summer evening, and you’ll be consumed in the creativity, diversity, energy and sheer talent on display. The four kids breakdancing in front of you, showcasing their incredible strength and body control, will be performing on Broadway in a few weeks’ time. On your left, an aging man from Brooklyn just beat an immigrant from Russia in chess, while his friend from Botswana waits patiently for his crack at the champ. The paintings for sale on your right look like they were stolen from a gallery Uptown, yet the artist who created them continues to churn out masterpieces in front of your eyes, explaining his inspiration in the process. And that language you hear being spoken behind you, well, that surely wasn’t taught in any of the schools you attended.

The most international city on the planet, New York is a place people all around the world dream about. Union Square is the place where they come together, creating the trends and styles of tomorrow that help New York City sustain its place among the world’s greatest cities.

I’m not sure exactly what it is that made me find my comfort zone in Rio so quickly, on a bus rolling through downtown past Praça da República, but when I first set my eyes upon the shores of Ipanema, it’s hard to understand how I was ever nervous in the first place. Children playing,stunning bodies laying, and green trees swaying amidst turquoise waters under the watchful gaze ofPedra da Gávea…it seems such a contradiction to the chaos I was pre-conditioned to expect.

And that’s what I couldn’t get my mind off of the entire time I was there.

How can a place this beautiful, this festive…this free (because yes, the beach is public)…be so full of discontent? How can people turn a setting like this into a war zone? Especially when I feel so comfortable here?

I couldn’t get these thoughts out of my mind the entire time I was there. It was like although I was enjoying the scenery immensely, there was an element of awe with every person I walked by…

“I wonder if she lives in Rocinha?,” I’d find myself thinking.

“I wonder if he’s ever been in a gun fight?”

When I went to the Centro Cultural Banco do Brasil to see an exhibit of M.C. Escher’s work, I noticed a photo documentary of Rocinha (which is the largest favela in Brasil, and one of the most notorious for its violent reputation) in the bookstore. It was a striking image of a boy, no more than 7 or 8 years old, guarding a stash house with a Glock in his hand, staring into the camera. It was this image I just couldn’t shake from my mind with every step I took in the seeming paradise just a kilometer or two from the hills of Rocinha.

Ipanema Beach under the gaze of Pedra da Gávea

Naturally, this is what I’d want to learn about from every native of Ipanema or neighboring Leblon, and I learned something interesting. Firstly, that element of fear. Quite simply, it’s reality. You learn to live with it. And become conditioned to being able to go about your business, live your life, and enjoy the stunning beauty of the scene in front of you even if you did get mugged yesterday, or even if you did know someone who was robbed in a traffic jam last week and left for dead. You just don’t dwell on thoughts like these.

Vidigal favela looking down on Ipanema

Number two, how this came to be. Apparently, the influx of mass quantities into the favelas ramped up in the 1950s and 1960s, when hordes of people would come from small villages throughout the country in hopes of cashing in on the economic opportunities the big city provided.  Because they couldn’t afford proper housing, they would squat illegally on the public lands that surrounded small villages that had already been formed, and over the years, those villages grew and grew. No property was bought, nor taxed. The land was taken because the newcomers had nowhere else to go. Politicians didn’t want to stop the growth for fear of losing those votes, and a few decades later, Rocinha had grown to its estimated 250,000 residents—all squeezed into an area of about .86km².  Introduce drugs into the community and not only did addiction set in, but it created a multi-million dollar industry amidst the dead-end career options that existed, and drug dealers have been controlling most of the favelas since. With the World Cup coming in 2014 and the Summer Olympics in 2016, this may be set to change…but for how long? Stay tuned.

Vidigal lit up at night on the mountainside

Today’s post comes courtesy of Val, who runs a really funny blog I found called Faking Fabulous. It hasn’t been updated lately, but Val details some of her escapades living in Italy, and although today’s post was originally written in 2009, it holds oh so true today! I am just going to paste what she wrote on that day, as it makes a point far better than I could do so myself.

“The Thing about Italian Men”

(credit: Faking Fabulous: 16 December 2009)

WARNING, WARNING! This blog contains sexually related content. Do not read if you are one of my brothers, my nephew, or my Dad as it may embarrass you! The rest of you may proceed.

Before I came to Italy I was warned about Italian men. “Don’t look them in the eye and don’t smile at them,” I was told repeatedly. “In Italian culture eye contact and smiling is a signal you are interested and it’s okay for them to approach you. Italian men are quite forward. And all they think about is sex.”

“Well, that’s inconvenient!” I thought to myself. In business and in self defense women are taught to walk with confidence and purpose, to keep our heads held high and look people directly in the eye. And how am I supposed to not smile? It’s all I do! “Okay, okay,” I told myself. “No looking at men in the eye.”

I was also warned that Italian women are very jealous and if they catch you looking at “their man,” be prepared because they will have words with you about it. “It’s best just to keep your head down when walking and if you bump into someone don’t bother saying scuzi because no one does.” Great! I get to go to one of the most beautiful destinations in the world, never talk to anyone, and the only thing I’m going to see is the pavement!

For the first month and I half I followed this advice. I averted my eyes at all costs. I mostly kept my head down and walked the “city walk.” This is not easy to do by the way, when you have no idea where you are going and you have to look up to the side of a building to discover what street you are on! It’s definitely an acquired skill.

During the month of November, Rome experienced an indian summer. Winter coats were not necessary until the very end of the month. One night, when I was in a particularly good mood, I decided to head out to the City Center for dinner on my own. This required a 25 minute walk from my apartment. I was enjoying the warm Mediterranean air and had a bounce to my step. About 15 minutes into my walk I saw a gorgeous Italian man walking my way with a motorcycle helmet in his hand.

He was distinctively tall for an Italian (6 feet 2 inches) and had the quintessential thick, wavy brown hair and olive skin. He truly was the picture of male Italian beauty! I could not help myself. I did a double take when I passed him. That was when it happened. His eyes connected with mine and I held the gaze for only a second before remembering the rules of Italian mating.

“OH CRAP!” I thought to myself, and swiftly looked down and continued walking. But it was too late. The ritual had begun. He jumped on his motorcycle and followed me down the road. When I crossed the street he followed me. When I cut down to the next street he followed me. He parked his bike, took off his helmet, and signaled for me to come over. I did, and promptly said to him in Italian that I could not speak Italian. I asked him in Italian if he could speak English. He said he could… a little. He asked me for my number. “Why do you want my number if you cannot speak English?” I asked. “Language exchange,” He replied.

Language exchange is a pretty common thing in Italy. Many legitimate people are interested in meeting native English speakers to improve their English and learn the slang that is not taught in foreign language courses.

Naively, I gave him my number and we agreed to meet the next day at a public place and at an early hour to have a language exchange. Honestly, I knew it wasn’t all innocent, but I thought there may be some fun flirting and I’d get to hang around with a really good looking Italian guy for a while. To spare you all from the uncomfortable and (only after some time has passed) “funny” story of how I almost got date raped, let me just summarize it like this; apparently language exchange in Italian really means fluid exchange.

Even though I was warned about Italian men, I was really surprised about how aggressive this guy was. Did he really think I was going to sleep with him on the first night? I mean, you know, without him even buying me dinner! A girl’s got to have her standards you know! ;-) Anyway, this event was a good reminder that I was in a different country and didn’t know the rules here.

Since then, I have been approached on the street several times without me accidentally initiating it. Italian men are definitely not shy about going after what they want!  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have the “don’t even try it” scowl on my face anymore like I did when I first got to Italy, but I am definitely not giving the, “Hey, come talk to me,” signal either. I’m just walking, head up, no smile. Just walking.

Now that I am finally meeting some English speaking friends in Florence, I’ve been asking about this trait in Italian men. “Why are these guys so horney?” I inquired. The new group of girls I met last week had many thoughts on this topic and they were happy to share, as most of them have Italian boyfriends.

One woman shared something with us that her Italian boyfriend told her when she asked him the same question. What he explained was this. Look around Florence. Look around most of Italy. We are surrounded by beauty 24 hours a day; beauty in architecture; beauty in landscape; beauty in food and beauty in the human form. We are surrounded by naked statues or paintings of physical perfection. At every corner there is a scantily clad statue of some man or woman posing suggestively with an exposed breast or a perfectly proportioned penis proudly displayed for all see. Sensuality and sex are in the air here. It permeates our thoughts without us even realizing it. It is not shameful; it’s beauty.

I thought about this explanation for a few days, and as I walked through the city and through the Uffizi Art Gallery, I realized this man was absolutely correct. Florence is the birthplace of the Renaissance; the time of reborn appreciation for beauty in all things. Sex and sensuality ARE everywhere in Italy. Without realizing it, being here heightens your sexual senses. It makes you see things in a different way. It helps you see beauty in all things; even in that which is not particularly beautiful.

It all makes perfect sense to me now!

Huh… Maybe this is why I keep having erotic dreams about a man named David.