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P and I have been frequenting the newly opened book/music store on Bonifacio High St. Upon entry to the store, P and I say a cheery goodbye to each other, temporarily divorcing, as he heads to the fourth floor to browse art books and CDs, while I start my pilgrimage at the ground floor, paying homage to books by category (this is my obsessive-compulsive thing. I must always begin my scouring in an organized manner, the same way I do my grocery shopping, i.e., aisle per aisle. This is to avoid missing anything. If I do not do it this way, the whole experience is ruined for me). Some books are competitively priced in this store, but others are expensive by 10-30 pesos compared to competing bookstores. Oh, well, at least their inventory is extensive and of quality. My blood secretly rippled in delight. I almost made myself dizzy going from floor to floor, inwardly wrestling with the desire to buy new books because of the recent moratorium on book and DVD buying that I imposed on P and myself, but, eventually giving in and buying books and CDs with a promise not to buy anymore in the future, that these purchases are the absolute last!
In the store, we bump into friends, fellow book/CD addicts, and after perfunctory hellos, we each quiz each other’s buys or recommend new ones. This is the only bookstore in the country with a Starbucks. I don’t know how remarkable this is because I’m not a Starbucks habitué as I’m not addicted to coffee, I’m more a tea person and I’m very particular about my teas so no Stash or Gold Leaf for me. Besides, things are expensive in Starbucks although I’m currently addicted to their "Banoffis."
One time, I was waiting for P to finish working in an event sponsored by his company and I went to this bookstore’s Starbucks to have a snack. The crew very politely inquired if the sandwich and juice I ordered was dinner, whether I’m alone, if I would like a glass of water, and if I’m attending the Christina Aguilera concert. I always get these sort of inquiries from people, something about me must encourage small talk. I’m the type who can start conversations with strangers and when we say goodbye to each other we’re already friends. This aspect of my personality is alarming to introverted P to the point that he sometimes shushes me or frowns when I get into gregarious mode. I can’t help it. I’m honestly interested in people. I’m the type who’ll help old ladies cross streets or pick up dropped things, or give advice or offer my services to strangers. With the amount of distrust people have against other people these days, P said that I should temper my outgoing nature because people might misconstrue my intentions. Like, when we were abroad, I offered to take this woman’s picture because she was traveling solo. I saw her stop to think if I were only offering to take her picture so that I could run off with her camera. She looked me up and down and decided that I was safe. When we bumped into each other at the airport we waved at each other and inquired about each other’s destination. There was also this one time when we were on this rickety boat in China, on our way to sample the local cooking of a seaside town, I tried to start a conversation with a guy asking him where he was from (Ireland), if he was traveling alone, if he thought that traveling alone was romantic, etc. I saw P roll his eyeballs. The guy probably wanted to be left alone to his thoughts. He looked a bit like Gerard Depardieu.
Anyway, back to the bookstore. At the cash register, I fingered the Moleskine merchandise as I waited for P to pay for our purchases. Said to be the notebook used by the likes of Hemingway, Picasso, and Chatwin, Moleskine is leather bound and expensive (at 800-1,000+ pesos a pop). I had to reconsider as I still have a lot of notebooks and journals given by P, E, and E. I have never bought an expensive notebook in my life because even though I love them, I’m too stingy to spend too much on parchment. I’m all for recycling and mostly just use the backs of used bond papers for composition (que horror!). Also, I’m a bit of a messy writer. I sometimes can’t even read my own handwriting. Ha-ha. E recently got me two pocketsize, leather-bound notebooks from abroad. Not Moleskine, but equally beautiful and made in Italy. I can’t wait to use them!
