This is so cool.

On July 15, 2007, the city of Paris will debut a new self-service "bicycle transit system" called Velib’. Parisians and visitors alike will be able to pick up and drop off bicycles throughout the city at 750 locations—offering a total of 10,648 bikes. By the end of the year, there will be a Velib’ station approximately every 900 feet for a total of 1,451 locations and 20,600 bikes.

To access the bikes, riders can select a one-day card for 1 euro, a weekly card for 5 euros or an annual card for 29 euros. After the purchase of an access card, riding for the first half-hour is free and a supplement of 1 euro will be charged for an additional half-hour, 2 euros for another 30-minutes and 4 euros for every addition half-hour after that. Example: a 25 minute trip = 0 euros, a 50 minute trip = 1 euro, an hour and 15-minute ride = 3 euros.

Each Velib’ parking station will be equipped with muni-meters to purchase one and 7-day passes and to pay any additional charges once the bike is dropped off. The Velib’ meters will also provide information on other station locations.

Application forms for the annual card will be available starting June 13 at Paris District City Halls, 300 métro stations and 400 pastry shops throughout the city.

The city of Paris has over 371 km (230 miles) of cycling lanes.

For more information visit: www.velib.paris.fr (French language only)

Source: http://us.franceguide.com/article.html?NodeID=1&EditoID=88863

I never quite understood the gravity of Paquiao's boxing matches until today.

After bumping into Kuya at church this morning, he asked me if I wanted to tag along to watch the Marquez-Pacquiao fight. I've never actually watched any of Paquiao's fights with my full attention, let alone watch it with a room filled with strangers. But I was up for it anyway. I didn't have anything else to do but walk around and get lost in the city (except maybe treat myself to a Karaage Cheese Curry -- again).

So off we went to Rooty Bay, which is 40 minutes north-west off the city. The room was packed with Filos (Aussie for Filipinos). It suddenly felt like I was in the Philippines again, so it was weird having to order food in English when my stomach started to rumble before the fight. By the time the main fight started, none of the seats were vacant. The room was filled over, if not to its capacity -- around 1000 men, women and their children.

It was one of the best experiences of my life. I don't think I've ever felt as one with that many people (just to clarify - I've felt one with other crowds before, just less than 1000). Each blow was met with "OHH!s" and "YEAH!s" that you just knew that these fights could perhaps be the only thing that ties our nation in the midst of diaspora. It is what the children of Filipino migrants grow up with, and eventually learn to love. It is the venue in which Filipinos are reminded that no matter how far they stretch out into the rest of the world, they will always find ways to feel at home.

That we will always, and only, ever find home in each other. Thank you, Manny Pacquiao.

Australia has weird looking coins that without fail fatten and add weight to my wallet. Their 50cent (go shawty, isshaw birtday) coins look like our 2peso coins, circa 1990. Their $2 coins are as small as the American and Canadian 1cent coin, albeit two times thicker, blah, blah, blah. All stores round up (or down - hardly ever happens) the total amount of your purchases, so as to avoid having to unleash the useless 1cent coins (do they even exist anymore? I don't know) into your rock of a wallet. For example: if your total bill adds up to $31.59, you need to pay $31.60; if it adds up to $25.52, you pay $25.50.

The consipracy theorist in me tells me that two supermarket giants in Australia have hired professional mathematicians to come up with prices that will most likely add up to the numbers 3, 4, 8 and 9 once the customers have their groceries scanned through the red laser. This therefore explains the reason why their prices are never numbers that end with 5 or 0. They're always weird numbers, ending in 3s, 8s or 6s, making you think that you're saving a few cents on aggregate, when really, they're trying to "help you out" with your wallet's weight issues.

After finding out that I rushed out of the house to get to my 11am class for a cancelled one, I sat on one of the archs around the edges of the Quad, the most beautiful building on my campus, in which two of my classes are held. I sat there reading the book I haven't been able to put down since I bought it from the weekend market at Kings Cross. I'd take breaks from my reading every so often to absorb the beauty that rested comfortably in the lawns of the quad - the perfectly trimmed grass, the shade provided by the tree behind me, the intricate details of the sandstone buildings, and a few tourists and the awe that sparkled in their eyes as they took turns posing and taking pictures.

I then realised that the simplicity of this moment was something I wanted to remember for as long as I possibly can (I need to be realistic after all -- I have a memory that involuntarily chooses what to retain). I waited for the girl in front of me to finish her phone conversation. She had been sitting there reading a Chinese beauty magazine longer than I have, with her white wedged sandals neatly placed infront of her stretched-out legs. I asked her if she could take my picture, and she gladly reached forward to take my camera. Then I noticed that she only had three fingers on her right hand, some of which deformed, and her right big toe was missing. Her right big toe, which is the same toe that I've been agonizing over the past two years doesn't even exist. I smiled at the camera, thanked her, and continued reading my book. As I walked to my next class, I looked at my right big toe, which I've done a poor job of bandaging up this morning. I thought how petty my complaints have been, and how it must be for her... But then again she was wearing white wedged sandals -- something even I can't do for a long time!

Nevertheless, the past events of the week: girl who took my picture, my blind classmate and his dog, and the children in southern Luzon -- all have made me realise that the simplicity of life doesn't exist in how simple we make our lives, but in how we use this simplicity to the best of our abilities. That we live our lives ready to lend a helping hand, willing to know the marginalised, and that we pray, for the unbelievable, the oppressed, the seemingly hopeless.

I stepped out of the house to put the MXs (free newspaper) that I've accumulated over the past few weeks into the recycling bin that sits two steps away from the front door. The moment I heard the door slam shut behind me, I knew I was in trouble. See, the front door locks automatically as it closes.

There I was, standing frantically in front of the door, as I slowly realise two things: 1) I haven't got anything with me except the clothes on my back, and 2) Brigid is out of town and won't be back until later in the evening. I looked downwards, to my left, to find the grotto of our landlord, and wondered if he might have a key to the house. As I was walking out of our doorway and down to the front door of our landlord, I realise that it's still 4pm, and he may still be at work, making my situation hopeless and that I should therefore prepare myself to sit out on the steps while waiting for Brigid to come back and say "Ohhh yer a funneh gerl!"

So I rang the bell of our landlord. Lo and behold, an old European man comes out and patiently listens to my dilemma. He takes two steps back into his house and pulls out a set of keys and tells me, "Next time, don't forget the key!"
"I know, I'm sorry..."
"Where you from?"
"Canada" (before anyone whips me due to my un-nationalistic ways, please consider that it takes a great deal of effort to explain the existence of my Canadian accent -- yes, I have accepted it now, after having several strangers tell me that I have one.)
"Ohh, yes, I knew that was a Canadian accent!"
"Where are you from?"
"Budapest. Do you know where that is?"
"Yes!" (yeah, I will know once you let me in the house and I google it.)
"Where?!"
I squint and make the luckiest guess in the world: "Hungary?"

Sunny days, chasing the clouds away. I love this weather! :)