Shopping is probably one of the most tedious chores on earth for me. I like window shopping but earnest shopping: scouting for great buys, trying on things and deciding to buy it, these things don’t excite me.  You would wonder what possessed me, then, to go all the way to the World Trade Center on Diosdado Macapagal Highway in Pasay City to visit the Noel Bazaar:  I needed a heating pad that doesn’t run on electricity. An article in the Philippine Daily Inquirer written by Pam Pastor informed me that therapeutic heating pads were on sale there.  That’s the reason I went on the quest for the heating pad.

It was easy enough to drive there.  From Bulacan we took the NLEX, up A. Bonifacio Avenue.  We turned left on D. Tuazon to cut through to Quezon Boulevard and turned left on Morayta (Nicanor Reyes Street) down Recto to go to Binondo to see the Chinese herbalist first.  After a quick lunch, we went back onto Recto Avenue and turned right at Isetann to get onto Quiapo Boulevard.  We took Jones Bridge, down to the Liwasang Bonifacio and found ourselves on Roxas Boulevard.  We turned right at the CCP, went around back, passed the Senate of the Philippines and the GSIS and turned right to Diosdado Macapagal Avenue.  It was suddenly a tour, not a shopping trip.

Mayor Lim and the Habagat a few months back removed all those unsightly structures that littered the Baywalk.  From the car, I could see out the window to the expanse of blue that is Manila Bay and I was amazed at the thick population of seagulls!  Seagulls meant that there are fish and crustacean in the water which are what they feed on.  Manila Bay lives once more!  The hot afternoon sun glinted on the water.  The small waves looked like pieces of gleaming blue crystal.  The yachts, sailboats and even the commercial ocean vessels looked majestic in the water.  That beauty of the Manila Bay, well, I haven’t seen since I was a little girl.  Simple joy!  I wanted to get out of the car and stroll as I used to do with my Mom and Dad when I was three.  I was waiting for the man who sold the psychedelic printed balloons and the man who sold balut, chicharon and peanuts.  They weren’t there but they lived on in my imagination.  I suddenly had a craving for Magnolia drumstick and orange popsicle.

The CCP still looked like a lovely lady but the Folk Arts Theater was shabby.  The Experimental Cinema of the Philippines simply looked woebegone.  They are relics of the Martial Law years.  Sofitel looked modern.  The US Embassy looked like a fortress: the barbed wire, the thick G.I. sheets around the perimeter; the CCTV cameras all over and the guards in full battle gear made me think of Saigon in 1975.  Gone were the days of the long snakelike lines of visa applicants: you now make an appointment online before coming for your interview.

Parking at the World Trade Center wasn’t difficult. From Binondo where everything was cramped to Roxas Boulevard where everything seemed spacious and breezy, it was like a planet away instead of seven kilometers away; a culture apart instead of the same metropolis.  The contrast between the spacious exterior of the World Trade Center and the booths in the Noel Bazaar was just as wide, though. There were far too many colors, too much merchandise and too many people shoving empty plastic cups in my face asking me if I wanted to taste their alkaline water.  The selling area was an assault to the senses especially since I came there to shop for just one thing.  I looked at the small narrow passages between the booths that were set on a grid pattern and decided to be systematic in my search for the heating pads I wanted to buy.

It is a wonder to me why the secretariat of the Bazaar was at the farthest end and in the corner when they should be right up front near the entrances so that they can be accessible.  They offer a novelty: you can pay with your credit card instead of just paying in cash.  So it really is a wonder why the secretariat was at the back.  Unless, of course, they wanted the crowds to press in and disperse through the maze of booths and whet their greed; and only when they have run out of cash would they reach the secretariat wanting their credit cards swiped for their purchases.  The stage and the food selling area were also in the back, next to the secretariat.

Had there been a sign near the entrance where the secretariat was, I would have bee-lined for the secretariat first and spared myself the assault on my senses.  But after getting my senses overwhelmed (let’s see: loud music, a DJ with a pseudo American twang, sellers hawking their wares, multi-colored displays, rows upon rows of merchandise), I was ready to give up finding the heating pads!

There was no directory near the entrance so that I can orient myself with the arrangement of the 200 booths. There were no overhead signs that showed the numbers of the booths in one passage.  There was no arrangement of booths by department.  Clothes, furniture, shoes, bags, jewelry, household appliance, electronic gadgets and native products were all over.  I guess that would have added to the fun if I weren’t looking for just one thing: those heating pads I needed to soothe me when I suffer from dysmenorrhea every single month!

When I finally made it to the secretariat, I was advised to go to booth number 156 to a shop aptly named SOOTHE.  Guess what?  The booth was right near the entrance!  How could I have missed it? I found it and the shop keeper told me that there were about four or five other shops that sold heating pads in the Bazaar.  Their pad was unique, though, theirs didn’t contain gel. Their heating pad costs P550 each.  I chose a pad with thick and durable brown corduroy outer bag.  The pad which actually looks like a pillow measures 4×12 inches. Into this bag, they put a smaller bag.  This smaller bag had what felt like sand in it.  The lady said it had grains and seeds in it as well.  That accounted for the thick herbal aroma in the booth.  She had a microwave oven in there and she popped the bag in.  She nuked the bag for 3 minutes on high heat and presto!  The heated pad was hot enough to be soothing and yet not too hot to be uncomfortable.  The pad retained warmth for about half an hour. If you need a cold compress, you can put the entire bag in a freezer- zipper-bag and freeze it.  I was content with the heating pad. I decided to buy one to try at home.  It came in a plastic carrying case.

If you are averse to taking pain relievers as it may be habit forming or harmful to your gastric lining, the heating pad is a good alternative. It was perfect for me.  I could put the pad on my abdomen and fall asleep without fear of being toasted alive if I used an electric heating pad.  And it smelled good, too.  I had a cold when I tried it and the warm aroma helped me relax and de-clog my nose.  By bedtime, I knew I should have bought two more pads: one for me, one for the hubby and one to store in the freezer.

The pad can wrap around the head or drape on the shoulders to soothe the stress of the day away as you watch TV or listen to music with the lights dimmed in the room (provided the kids listen to their own music on their earphones!).  As I lay there, I remembered how sweet life was when we had just gotten married and we were all alone in the apartment.  We actually relaxed and talked like the intelligent adults that we were.  Imagine what one heating pad can do for my sanity!

But no, wait.  I musn’t be greedy or selfish and keep this to myself.  I share with you now the joy of the heating pad.  I will even tell you that you can buy the heating pad from Soothe through multiply.com.  And, if you are lucky… you might even get one from me on Christmas!