a day in the life...

how to tell a story?

2011-01-08T11:13:00.001+08:00

i have been writing for a manual that i hope to finish soon. it has been a real task, and i am glad that it is going to be over, very soon. while writing that manual, there are moments when a thought that comes into mind, i wish i was writing a story instead.

i wish i was writing a story instead. so i returned to this old blogger site to write a story.

there was once a traveler. who came across a fork on the path. one path is the way his path has always been. the other seems dark, unsure and bends to the right from his vantage point. he knows that the path will never be the same again after deciding to follow one. but he has to choose, as the only way is forward. he struggled, because he has the choice. and this struggle consumed his thoughts and all his will.

finally, he chose the dark, unsure and bending path.

a fellow traveler asked him about the choice. "What made you decide on this path?"

he answered: "Because beyond the path is where I hope to be."

Bridging Leadership for Youth

2009-08-12T09:39:00.001+08:00

What is the role of young Filipinos in shaping the history of the Philippines?

This is a question that we, at the Asian Institute of Management would like to contend with. In the midst of the complexities in our country, we, the young have started to look deeper into ourselves and reflect how we can be relevant as future leaders of the Philippines.

If you are aged between 18-24 years of age, a young Filipino leader who share the same questions as us, we invite you to join our journey. We invite you to apply by clicking www.tuloytulay.aim.edu and see what we can do together in shaping our common future ahead.

The call is being made by the Team Energy Center for Bridging Societal Divides and the Development Resource Center of the AIM through Tuloy Tulay, a leadership program for young Filipinos.

It would be a journey of knowing, of understanding and hopefully, one that of doing... together.

Padayon!

this journal will actually change your life 2009

2008-10-28T13:07:00.006+08:00

i got this really cool offer from FreeSpeech Publications that invited bloggers to get a journal, entitled this journal will actually change your life 2009 planner for free. yes, i am not kidding that is the title of the journal emblazoned all over the front page and on the spine.

but it is free, and i only have to give a review for it.

how hard can it be?

alas, it was a bit hard. as they say, life happens and here i am coming in a bit too late. just the same here are my thoughts on the this journal will actually change your life 2009 (tjwacyl 2009).

my first difficulty is writing a review for a product that has too long a name. i mean, come on who would actually want to write a review for tjwacyl 2009, when you have to repeat its name, heaven forbid - this journal will actually change your life 2009 over and over again. ok, i am no marketing guru, but i know that product recall gets lower and more difficult for customers to get your name right if your name is more than a few words long. not only would it be difficult to pronounce, it just takes up too much space in texts and too much letters in emails.

the starbucks planner is a goody in this one. simple and classic, just the way most people like it. i said to myself tjwacyl 2009 must have something more in store than its name for it to get a good review.

the feel.

tjwacyl 2009 is hard bound with black letters jutting out of the cover. there is nothing funny about it, nor is there something serious about it. it is just plain weird to have those letters jutting out on black background. hey if i have to do a change, i wouldn't be as easy to enjoy it if i am being invited by such a sight.

the starbucks planner was more easy to understand. its covered in leather, nice finish at the beginning, you have a pen holder and pages to start writing. at least i know that this starbucks planner is a planner. not something that wants me to do something else.

physical features.

tjwacyl 2009 is hard bound, it has two book marking strings and nice colored paper in between. but that is just about it. what if i wanted to put a pen right next to it? or what if i want to carry it along my bag, without coming to a point of whether i will bring it or not (because it might be too heavy or bulky. i guess, what you see is what you get for tjwacyl 2009. nothing much to offer except its sturdy covering (with those words emblazoned up front).

going inside.

however, things start to change as i thumbed through tjwacyl 2009. one of the first few pages i laid my eyes upon was that picture at the left. wow, i quote: all proceeds for this journal are going to the building of wells and schools, and the planting of trees all over the world.

we invite you to become part of the solution.

visit www.ineedalifeline.org and help change the world.

ayun naman pala e, may laman naman pala e.

ay sus! then it dawned onto me tjwacyl 2009 is not all about just a regular planner. it is something that has a social objective. something grand, something my mediocre mind can only dream of doing. here is a journal who actually wants to do something.

i just do not know whether they would be true to their word or not. but at this point, at this product review, i think they certainly made a point. that to get tjwacyl 2009 would contribute to something more than just making rich people have a better conscience in drinking their coffee.

features inside.

then the rest is just your-plain-old-things-that-you-expect-with-a-planner. there's the calendar of course wherein you can put your scheds to your dentist, your exam, your paper, your date, whatever date that needs remembering. it also has 1/3 of a space devoted for journaling. hmmm, i tried to do journals in my jvp year in 2002. but i think i will fail miserably. but that is the point of journals right? to have a space to write. i must admit that starbucks also did the same, to be say that it is a journal is to say that its coffee is cheap.

and of course you have your interesting facts and figures on the journal, practical quotes, mood chart, food chart and everything else that i think are informative, but i do not expect to find in a journal. i mean you know, if i want a journal, i would not buy tjwacyl. but if i wanted to help out and be informed on some interesting things about the world in general, and to at least keep track of what i should be doing at a particular date, then tjwacyl 2009 might be something that i can appreciate.

at the end of the day, i think it boils down to what freespeech publications wants to do. i think i lacked the clarity to understand their message. i am just a simple dude, working/striving to keep his commitments and schedules in order, i also wanted to help out the world, and probably bring back some of the things that can help it. but i am not so sure that i am clarified of tjwacyl 2009.

so i say, tjwacyl 2009 might be a little confused on what it wants the user to do. does it want the owner of the journal to change? or does it merely want to help the owner to put down his schedules, have some interesting facts on the side? or does it want to have some contribution in helping save the world?

i guess, it will really help out freespeechpublications if they can sort these things out. i mean there are still some months left. i think for it to be a truly powerful tool (for change, for calendars, for helping the world, for whatever), it has to start off by being clear on what it wanted to become.

isang sentimo para sa iyong iniisip.

and we're back!

2008-09-29T16:17:00.000+08:00

and we're back!

days of adventure!
being sandwiched between two storms
negotiating the wind
the waves
the land
now, i know why batanes is such a lovely, lovely place.

now, if only i can organize the thoughts and the pictures.

and we are off...

2008-09-23T20:49:00.000+08:00

to the the land of the winds.

smallest province in the philippines.
honesty cafe
marlboro country
mahatao lighthouse
ivatans
vakul
batan
sabtang
vuhus

batanes.

we'll see you in a bit.

singiteras in the morning

2008-07-07T06:08:00.000+08:00

for those of us working class who take the fx every morning, probably knows the feeling of waiting in line to get to that ubiquitous air-conditioned work who will ferry us to work with the least smell of smoke and sweat.

its been almost a year since i have been lining up at the suki market to get to makati. for that amount of time of queueing, you get to notice some people already. familiar faces, familiar actions that for one way or the other, i have began to assign code names so that i can tell stories of these people.

so there were these four ladies who turned out to be my favorites. let us describe them.

singitera # 1 is on the heavy side. she has a perpetual cough and and twitches her head from side to side.

singitera # 2 looks like singitera # 1. she looks like she's her sister. and they arrive together all the time.

singitera # 3 has short hair and gets off at cash and carry. she usually arrives early and lets singitera #1 and #2 in her line. once they come in.

singitera # 4 has long hair and usually wears a shade of purple that i do not understand. she is usually the most talkative among the four.

in the past two weeks, i have been promising myself that these ladies would hear something from me, if they get into hearing distance from me. i imagined the confrontation to be bloody, and me losing my cool, and i would be having a bad day. but every time i see them doing their thing, i get infuriated because it has been unjust for everyone who falls in line every morning. in fx lines, mrt lines or in any queue for that matter, it is always first come first served. no jumping in line. no breaking the line. that was taught to us by my grade 1 teacher. and i kinda liked mrs. fernandez so i knew that it is never right to jump in line. even if the other person is really a close friend and i am in a hurry already. i just have to line up.

and so this morning, i saw singitera #1 and #2 rushing off to pay already. and of all people behind them, it was me! i braced up. i can hear my heart thumping more violently. any time now, singitera #3 and #4 would be coming.

and i saw them singiteras coming to the singiteras already in line. i took a breath and:

me: excuse me, the line is over there.
singitera #2: a-a-a-pat ang binayaran namin.
me: oh well.

what do you do at that particular moment? do you raise hell just to uphold justice. or do you just continue to say nothing because they have grown accustomed to this already.

i chose neither. they have to know that what they are doing is wrong. and i cannot just stand there and let them have their way. someone has got to take on that task. and even if they do the same thing again. i will still tell these singiteras - the line is over there.

jolo glimpses

2008-06-08T09:42:00.000+08:00

surpised.

opened my eyes in a dark room. looked around, i was under thick sheets, there was a tv in front of me, there were blue curtains on the window, it was unusually cold. the pillow doesn't smell like me. i am not home.

i remember. i am in sulu at the ssc hostel. i began to relax at that thought. i am not lost.

its a sunday, and i distinctly remember hannbal telling me that i can go to church this morning. what the heck, i wanted to go to mass to pray for some things. so off i go.

i went to the morning motions. i had to move quick, its almost 6a. the cold morning air breathed on me as soon as i greeted the courtyard of the hostel. i observed the early light making its way through the trees, tinting them darker with a bright green. it looks like its going to be a nice day.

toh, sa cathedral.

the cathedral loomed as i turned left from the main road, the cross pierced the sky even as the dome and the spires of the masjid prominently displays itself in the early morning sky. fr. ante said mass. it was really unusual to see him in his sutana, and all dressed up as a priest. he is as good as a man as he is a priest. this was a man that has definitely lived life. i said a prayer, that may i take a similar path. halfway through the mass, i realized that i was hungry not only for breakfast but for nourishment for the soul. i decided that breakfast would have to wait.

the wait was well worth it, just at the back of the cathedral is my favorite coffee shop, second only to consequia. dennis coffee shop is owned by pah sali. one of our friends in sulu. i was looking forward to some satti and kahawa sug. satti came fast, kahawa came strong. both came hot! this should take me through the day. it was a good breakfast.

going back to ssc. i soon felt the pangs of being a foreigner. i am still not from here. i noticed the stares of people are more intense, now that i am venturing alone. it has a sense of worry and wonder. i am still not from here, i had to speak softly and briefly in order to communicate to people. the jolo that i knew in my last two visits, was quite different this morning. everything seems to be a blur. everything happening too fast, too quick for the eye to see.

upon arriving at ssc, i took a deep breath and closed my eyes a bit. getting to know jolo is now becoming deeper. i begin to know the other side in which regular visitors do not see. that of a land trying to come into terms with the realities of poverty, and the constant threat of violence.

all the time i was on the streets, i am sure that i am safe. i had the reassurance of people. but its just unusual to see jolo with through a different lens. now i know what ernie feels, why he wants to make his presence felt here. there is always a sense of need. in which every bit of help, even as little as concern can be of great help.

much needs to be done, and i start with the 2nd day of the workshop today.

a step at a time jolo. magsukul for showing me a more personal face.

defy gravity

2008-04-19T04:31:00.000+08:00

i always liked the idea of flying.

it has been one of the exciting episodes of the work that i do. the idea of crossing vast distances in a small fraction of time, and the comfort that it brings me is one of the sweetest things that i am thankful for.

but a different kind of flying came up in the week that was.

we arrived at the zamboanga airport around 7a on a tuesday. i slept through the manila-zambo flight. because i wanted to be awake when we board a chopper that will bring us to basilan.

with our stuff in tow, we made way to the airbase around 8a. i know that there is nothing much to expect. i also know that these birds have been flying equal to my lifetime, or probably more. and i have had stories of daunting moments of friends riding them. i also remember headlines of the few that went ahead these old birds.

still, i approached these oddly shaped aircrafts like me entering the doors of my employer, on the first day. i knew what is ahead of me, somehow, i know what it took for me to be here, but still the fright of something new, grips me and slowly churns and turns my insides.

and so i put on the blue, supposedly flotation device. aha, a safety feature, a good sign.

i almost took a leap as i stepped into chopper two. i took a seat on the army-like seat, all around me, were people in fatigues. mike and i, plus this lady were the only civilian in the chopper. i worked on my seatbelt, but its not the same easy buckle on a plane. i had to ask for captain edwin to help me buckle up.

i noticed the lady beside me trying to buckle up, but gave up after mincing with the contraption for a time. instead she put her bag over her seat belt and just looked bored.

then the cabin got busy, i knew that the ride was about to start. i was all smiles! this time i can smile without getting dust on my teeth (like the way it goes on a habal habal ride, but i digress once again). the chopper positioned its nose towards basilan as if an athlete getting ready to jump from a cliff. i gripped the edge of my seat and got ready for take off.

i blinked.

when i opened my eyes, i saw that we were just passing over sta. cruz island. unmistakably, the pink sand reflects its soft glow from the morning light. the sea glittered of aquamarine, the midmorning sun bearing down on it and casting a bright glow in its midst. mangroves, dwarfed by our flight grips the earth from down below. it seems like it was raising its branches to wave to our chopper. they seem to feel the insanity of the moment. when one is neither here nor there.

then land.

i saw the way the grass embraced the ground, like the way they do in movies. i saw how everyone went down from the chopper, with their stuff on their shoulders or gripped by strong hands. i observed, how i unconsciously put my hand over my cap, to prevent it from flying off... again like the way they do in movies.

in a matter of minutes, it was over. we were already in basilan, the loud, unashamed, boisterous whirr of the elisi died down. and we set off for our task for the day.

i took a bit of turn, and glanced back to our bird. see you in a few days.

coexist

2008-04-07T07:10:00.000+08:00

U23D has shown in the sm mall of asia imax theater! never mind the hefty price i had to pay just to see it and the seemingly outside the universe venue. it was surely all worth the pesos and the inconvenience to see U2 (almost) live in concert.

U23D are excerpts of performances of U2 in their vertigo tour of 2006. as what might be expected, the energy and performance level was just so high and it seems that i was part of that big mob of sweat and beer. lifting my hands in the air and trying to touch the icons of my younger days.

if you have watched u2 in concert either live or on video, then you probably know what i am talking about. but this time, 3d technology made the difference. imagine seeing the band in a 5 storey screen, with the sound coming from all around. and that's not all, picture seeing the edge and bono, as if they are just two feet away. it felt as if when bono reaches out his hand, literally, i can almost touch him!

its amazing how technology can change the way entertainment has become.

but of course, there is more to u2 than their performance. it is the depth and breadth of their message that has captivated, not only me, but a whole lot of my generation. bono and his cohorts have lived until today because of the justice that they hope their songs can accomplish one day. it should be more than love for one person, but love in all forms, for our fellow men and women.

the symbolism of the night came when bono donned a headband with seemingly cryptic codes. there was a crescent moon followed by "oe" next the star of david followed by "is" and a symbol of a cross. but while listening to 'sunday bloody sunday" (an anti-war song) i realized that the crescent moon (representing the islam faith) the star of david (for the jewish tradition) and the cross (for the christian faith) come to stand as C, X, T respectively. it has a meaning afterall - coexist. bono must have been trying to communicate a simple message to all women and men. to coexist. to live together peacefully and justly. now, if only more people can speak and understand that message. then we might/could be in a better place.

with the message clear and consistent. u2 is still entertainment. the supposedly last song of the night was one. and as if you can feel the crowd in the imax theater singing their hearts content as well. i noticed the couple beside me even swinging to the beat. when they waved their goodbyes, some of the people in the theater, including JB the drummer of the Dawn were screaming "more". and as if not to disappoint, the band came back with "with or without you"

now, that would have been a fitting ending. nothing can top that.

i am glad, anjan (with kuya roy) invited me. its a wonderful thing to do, and to think about on a sunday evening.

on being a bai

2008-03-30T20:21:00.000+08:00

had an amazing weekend get-away in mindanao. just got back from davao and boy am i glad i made that trip. batoto got married last weekend in mangagoy in bislig. i figured it might be a good time to squeeze in some time with davao, and fall in love all over again to its beauty and ardor.

i know that i was back, when the taxi driver at the airport asked me: asa ta bai?

as if some lightning jolted my reality. i quickly told the driver to drive me to sto.nino in matina. i smiled as the city lights of davao wizzed outside my window. i would have wished for a non-air taxi, but it seems only aircon taxis have manipulated the service at the airport. oh well.

on the ride to soniboi's new flat, i thought to myself: oh that is right, when we call someone bai, it means that person is an equal. as opposed to dong, toto, inday that were used as nicknames to call younger people. or to 'gang as a monicker for someone whom you have affections for. or to "kol" (short for uncle) or "te" (short for auntie or ate) or manong for people who are elder than you.

bai is the general term for someone you may or may not know whom you consider with respect. someone you honor the presence of. its like bringing both the speaker and the listener to a plane wherein connection can happen. it is when you talk to each other without rank, influence or authority. it gives you both the opportunity to look each other in the eye and listen to what the other has to say.

bai is also a term that draws the line of trust between bisdaks. you refer to someone you trust as a bai, even for someone whom you encounter, no matter how brief, yet that moment is significant enough for the both of you. its like in the jeepney, i reach into my coin purse, i produce php7 and pass it on to the driver (or to the conductor, for that matter) and say: palihug kog bayad bai. that moment when i pass on my fare, i consider the service important because i entrust my safety and the speed of travel to the hands of the driver.

i realized that being a bai is a privelege, for it connects someone to someone in a personal way. it doesn't matter how long the connection will last, but for how ever long it takes it immediately establishes the line of the engagement.

with that in mind, i called everyone i met "bai."

kapuy na bai, matulog sa ko.

consequia summer rewards!

2008-03-25T10:40:00.000+08:00

Can you feel the summer heat?

Consequia ushers in the joys of summer with a promo for all you guys. Ice blended drinks perfect for a sweltering afternoon, and relaxing drinks in the evening to stimulate a conversation. Revel in heart warming meals that bonds

Drop by consequia at 409 mayon st., qc during the summer season (until April 30, 2008) and get a rewards card that will allow you to earn points. Check this out, your tenth purchase will let you have a free drink of your choice. quench your

And that's not all, get 10% discount on drinks from March 24 - 29, 2008 when you come in groups of five or more.

Bring your friends, family and chill at Conse!

4 days in the life in cdo

2008-02-16T14:00:00.000+08:00

it was supposed to be a quick training. our (boring) itinerary read:

feb13 - fly to cdo.
feb14 - day 1 of training
feb15 - day 2 of training
feb16 - fly back home.

i am quite comfortable with that four days laid out in front of me. just three nights away from manila, how tough can it be?

how tough can it be?

well...

i am now in at vienna kaffeehaus in cagayan de oro. i am waiting for a dinner with our partner. then i will travel to davao to catch my 7.40a flight.

you can now probably sense that i was asking a rhetorical question.

that is how the "four days" would close.

the story.

let me tell it to you backwards. my flight at 4p back to manila was cancelled. bad weather in cdo. in fact all flights back to manila were cancelled today. coolness isn't it? when i entered the airport at 3.30p this afternoon, i can see creased foreheads, hear raised voices, feel that the situation is really lousy on both sides of the glass window that separates pal employees from the multitude of people who needs to re-arrange their flights.

as i was queuing for me to reschedule my flight, i realized that the guys on the other side, wearing their blue - yellow patterned neck tie were really having a bad day. the white board behind them were already blaring with scribbles and graffiti like writing. "priority passengers", "cancelled", "bad weather" were just some of the things that were watching the cdo airport gallery scene.

when i reached the window. i decided to make my transaction quick and fast. i do not mind the detour. i was a bit happy coming in since i just had a white water rafting trip in the morning.

why not, am in cdo anyway, and it has been the longest time since the river has called my name. i have always been invited, but somehow, i have not been able to answer. until... this morning.

i put on my favorite outdoor shirt, a pair of quick dry shorts, and my trusty sandals. and had a grand time on the river. there must have been plenty of entries written already about that trip. and i would not like to have an additional comment.

hence, in a paragraph, my impression was:

it could have been better! the basic course really did not satisfy my thirst for unexpected happening. i have to flip dive somewhere in between just to have a certain rush. the waters were too polite, too calm, too modest. i was expecting a real ride.

it could have been because of the last couple of days raining. the water was deep, hence not enough excitement for the rapids to play its way. too bad.

marl marl told me that i should go back, and check out the advanced course. that would have made it more worthwhile. i have not yet gone out of the city, and i was already being invited back.

i glanced outside the window as i heard whistles. ah, i remembered that it is the night cafe. a weekly smorgasbord of tianges in divisoria street. its fun walking around, but i really cannot buy anything here. so when we were in the same area last night, we headed to ketkai for some coffee and desserts. it was good. but we think that is not good enough. we had a training didn't we, and we think that it has been a good training.

lets celebrate then!

the celebrations ended with me smiling, my eyes in chebekoy, and my breath smelling like mixed alcohol. but if you smell carefully you would bet that you will smell: beer, absolut mandrin and bacardi 1551.

who in her right mind would want to do that? tsk tsk. that is why i said "if".

i really think our facilitators pulled it off nicely (albeit, in hindsight there were plenty of lessons along the way). not discounting the fact that the flight arrangements need to be perfect. i said need because, they were. we got the flights that were needed to go to cdo in time for the seminar. but it would entail us taking the first flight out of manila on thursday. after our flight was cancelled last wednesday. two hours of waiting and calling did it good. plus, changes in the flights of mayor on friday. whew. i could have sworn that my blood has coagulated in the remaining weekdays of this week doing these.

add to it trying to listen to the lectures.

and so how difficult could it be?

i do not know.

but it sure was great to be back.

capuccino dreaming

2008-01-29T07:30:00.000+08:00

when the conse is not so busy, i ask janet if i can fix my own drink. friday night, just before the deluge of busy-ness, i got behind the counter rolled up my sleeves and decided that i want some capuccino.

been a long time since i enjoyed capuccino. this is my favorite drink in my davao days. ninin, mike and whoever wished to tag along would go to basti's in victoria plaza, order our drinks (make mine capuccino), ask for a cup of sugar and sit back on the couch and talk, or eat, or sleep, or whatever captures our fancy.

time travel five or so years forward. i remembered how dan and the guys at bastis prepare my drink. it feels different to be the one behind the counter, negotiating with our krups espresso maker. but just like any adventure, this one is worth trying.

so there i was, all wide eyed and excited. i took the cup of milk in my hands, put it under steamer and just let it blow. i was watching the temperature reach that red spot. i was eagerly waiting, moving the cup from low to high to create more foam.

when the temperature reached 70 degrees, i decided that i want my milk really hot so i waited more until i reached 90 degrees.

espresso time. we turned up the grinder (right now its an imarflex blender with coffee grinder attachment), and watched two tablespoons of sagada arabica swirled around and around. after a few more moments, its ready! janet put some on the ladle and started up the espresso. i would have done it, but i just know that experts know when to take over when they are teaching their students.

there was a brrrr, and whhrrrr and black, fragrant liquid came oozing out. i smiled because my drink is almost done! my barista master expertly poured one cup of espresso into my cup, and showed how it is done. i asked her about the other cup, she told me that we would not be using that cup anymore. i was already thinking, how about a double shot of capuccino? aka, strong capuccino (in bastis).

i poured the milk into my drinking cup. i was repeating janet's instruction in my mind. half milk - half foam. half - milk - yes! half - foam, darned i need more foam. so i primed the machine again and tried to steam another cup of milk. whew, i should really rememeber to get the foam up for capuccino.

there my drink is done. we clocked in at 9 minutes and 34 seconds. not bad for a first try. as a reward, i took the other cup of espresso and dunked it in my drink.

writing this makes me want to reach for another cup.

alone time

2008-01-22T17:02:00.000+08:00

2008 came in with a whole lot of things going in the days (and nights) of this life. it seems like there is always something to do, something to attend to. good thing most of it are things that i like doing.

so it has been really rare to find time with myself. tonight, i got that precious moment. i ate dinner at malaya, took out the car for a bit of car wash then went to consequia for some coffee.

i did not discuss business with janet, nor did i checked on anything. i just ordered a cup of coffee and went outside to watch a drizzle fall softly on the newly washed toyota.

i was there, listening to the sounds of jeeps, cars, trucks and tricycles run past mayon. deeply inhaling the aroma of my brew. it was quiet. i was enjoying that piece of peace that has somehow descended in that seat just right outside conse.

cheers

2007-12-31T13:04:00.000+08:00

couple of hours till the end becomes a beginning once again. just a few more hours to our reunion (i.e. leaving the house). but let me just offer toasts to the year that was.

cheers to friends. for listening, for talking, for sharing a year. basically for just being true. thank you for moments shared, for hours spent in silence, for being present, even when not there.

cheers to family. for taking me back. for being open to challenges this year... together. for the thirst to try something new. for the trust that we can still create, and can still bring about something utterly big.

cheers to change. for keeping me on my toes. for teaching me to close some doors, and open a new one. for leading me all over, for the smallest funnies to the greatest lessons.

cheers to davao, to manila, to coffee, to photography, to lomography, to good food, to free movies, to music, to murakami, rowling and palahniuk, to travels, to sun and sand, to beer, to colleagues, to fellow travellers. goodbye 2007. it has been a good year.

looking forward to 2008. i hope all of the above would still be there, plus some more.

happiness is a sad song

2007-12-23T14:05:00.000+08:00

borrowed the title from charles m schulz. but this is how i describe my story with the girls. it was during my senior year in the university. i remember that sting is in manila at that time. it was crunch time for the graduating class. lots of group works, lots of writing to be done, lots of exams. lots of sleepless nights.

it was a permutation of these "lots" that i came across the saddest song that i ever heard. it was a song of love remembered. GHOST. my lady friends were listening to it because one of them was heartbroken and wanted some consolation. i was on the other hand, trying to work with them and give what i can contribute.

as the sem wore on, and the year at that, i began to become closer to them. the pain become easier, and our friendships improved. and what ties up these two periods together is the song that we have listened while writing, while driving around UP (and closing the headlights), while working/sleeping in houses, while trying to make it through college.

in retrospect, the sadness in GHOST made us all feel the real-ness of our pain. whether that pain concerns our relationships, our failures, our loves - gained or lost. i resound to that pain because that is one of the things that makes me human. it reconnects me to that basic emotion of feeling.

throughout these years, i have felt more pain, inflicted some more. and when i get to that point of hopelessness, i remember one of the girls' songs, i sing it in my head and i feel hopeful, even if everything will not be alright.

i guess that is what makes me happy about their songs. that it makes me feel!

to the girls, here's to knowing you almost a third of my life. and looking forward to more melodies, poetry and feelings.

a promise to end a march

2007-12-22T16:19:00.000+08:00

i was quietly sipping a cup of coffee at consequia this afternoon. staring aimlessly at mayon street. enjoying my brew.

then i remembered the sumilao farmers present in the simbang gabi in gesu last night. i particularly remember yoyong, the president of SARFA. i was a little impressed on him talking about their struggle for them to take back what is them. i admire their passion to get things done.

he is thankful.

most especially to cardinal gaudencio rosales.

the way i understand it, the good cardinal asked the farmers to go home to mindanao and tend to their families. and the church will continue their struggle here in manila.

wow.

what a big thing to say!

wait!

i thought the farmers want their land? i thought their goal for walking 1,700kms is for them to take back what was originally theirs? i thought they made the ultimate sacrifice because they
wanted to have something for their own? for their family?

i read a blaring headline in one local daily. sumilao farmers to fly home today.

wait!

is a promise (coupled by the promise of the government) by a cardinal enough to take back what is theirs?

wait! what is happening here? would a promise be enough?

i understand the practicality of going home. i mean, its christmas. the family that they have left behind might be hungry already. i would have to say that those are important things too.

but to go home because of a promise of made by someone who does not even have a decision power on the issue, and a powerful force who would want to keep her ratings up commensurate to the 1,700kms?

wait!

i have high respects for my church. but wait! with that promise, i would have to hold cardinal rosales accountable if the land of the sumilao farmers would not be returned to them. i would have to ask him about this promise, because like yoyong, i would be putting my faith on his promise.

i hope, he will not disappoint yoyong. i hope he will not disappoint me.

i do not know if it is the coffee, or if it is the effect of these thoughts, but my heart is racing.

so what happens now? yoyong and his fellow marchers going home. but did they get what they were asking for?

now brewing

2007-12-17T11:03:00.000+08:00

sunday is usually an easy day for the family. we usually have lunch together, then basically just hang around the house, watch the buzz or whatever.

yesterday was a tad different though. we have been up and about since early morning. doing errands, fixing up the siomai, the clubhouse sandwich and the nachos. someone is feeling the space downstairs, paying attention to each and every detail, making sure that the glass is as clear as ice, and evoking the photo shelf to speak its piece.

someone is going back and forth to quincy, buying the last minute requests for whatever.

by 2:45p the jose's sat down to wish each other luck, and the necessary motivations were given where it would help. and so we went our own ways, bought more supplies, cleaned and tidied up some more, cooked a little bit more.

5p, marked the show time. everyone wore their best smiles. slipped into comfortable yet hip clothes. mom and dad wore red for luck. when the ribbon was cut, flash bulbs were fired, and the coffee started to brew.

fresh and sweet aroma filled the air. laughter blended with conversation and the slow drip of espresso. the lights were soft, and reflected the smile and the openness to understand the other person from the other end of the table.

all tables were taken and people seeing eye to eye. the buzz of movement. a cup in hand, every sip reflecting the honest yearning to open up the senses. this is the stuff that coffee shops are made of.

ladies and gentlemen, consequia cafe is now open. now brewing at 409 mayon st. quezon city. see us for coffee and conversations.

opening soon

2007-12-13T12:05:00.000+08:00

consequia is like a baby waiting to be born. but like one that wanted to surprise everyone, it is looking like a very mysterious baby indeed. it brings us to new territories of relationships,to new things that we have not experienced before. still, we are excited. the family will be proud parents soon. we just put up the sign last week. it has been quietly illuminating that part of mayon street for a week already.

the lights are ready, the song list is being created. it should be the hippest, jazziest and coolest selection. and the menu is slowly but surely coming into shape.

although, we would have wanted to be quick in opening it up. we are proceeding quite slowly. which, is not a worry for me and janet. i think, we are quite in agreement that we would want to perfect the taste (quality) of our products.

we have to be patient, especially with each other. all of us are coming into the business as first timers. full of excitement and anticipation of what this is going to bring to us.

so there, we await for things to develop. like waiting for that brew to drip.

maniniyot

2007-12-10T17:47:00.000+08:00

been meaning to create a photo blog for the longest time. finally, one is in the works, still on multiply. check out stoleni ko beh, at http://lomograpiya.multiply.com/.

lately, one of the things that i have been obsessing on is taking pictures. freezing a moment. capturing that smile, that curve of the lips. one that can never be repeated.

this site would house my lomo shots. i do not know until when would i be clicking away with my holga. but while my fingers itch for it, i would house it in the site.

maybe just a reminder of this certain phase in the day in the life.

Rock the Riles!

2007-12-04T11:12:00.000+08:00

http://gangbadoy.multiply.com/photos/photo/23/1?

Be aware. Let's do something.

consequia cafe

2007-11-25T13:16:00.000+08:00

the jose's are on a roll these past few weeks.

we have been putting our heads together and seriously working on opening up a coffee shop in mayon. what has been done so far?

1. looking around - been visiting coffee shops, looking and contacting possible suppliers of ingredients and equipment. everyone seems to be excited in completing the shopping and the equipment list.

2. talking and listening - for me, this is a good thing. we just finished a quick meeting, after pencil pushing of the financials this afternoon. serious number talk. we've established a rosy projection. we think that we will earn. am just not too sure on how we are going to do it...

3. discovering the market - been reading a lot and trying to talk to people who has experience on the market. maybe we are not looking hard enough, coffee advise seems to be rare. hopefully, the flyer i saved from the kape isla event could prove to be a good lead.

next on the list is to finish up the menu (pricing and food tasting) this week, and to firm up plans for the soft opening. we are looking at dec. 8.

for all its worth, i think the desire to work together and to learn from it would certainly be a good experience for all of us. i realize the risk that we are getting into. its still good money that we are investing into it. but if we can work out a good way to learn and make money and a name, it should be all worth it.

----------------------
consequia is chavacano for thirsty. the cafe quenches the need for a place for coffee and conversations where the past is considered, the present is enjoyed and the future is planned for.

new friend

2007-11-20T10:24:00.000+08:00

sometimes you just know that someone or something will be a good friend. i have a new friend that i would get to know in the next few days.

zambo - cot

2007-11-14T15:52:00.000+08:00

i find the shape of mindanao island very interesting. if you look at it, you can see a big mass of land where the moros, the lumads and us, christian settlers have lived in the northern, eastern and south central part of mindanao. tracing along the western side is the zamboanga peninsula. i blinked and imagined it as an oddly shaped coffee cup, slightly tilted with the handle shattered into smithereens.

ok, i might be forcing it, but indulge me will you, am obsessing over coffee at the moment.

with that image in my mind, i really find it interesting to travel from zamboanga to cotabato. i have tried it some years ago, when nin and i travelled from iloilo, stopover in zambo then to cotabato. the zambo - cot segment took all night, with us arriving in cotabato at 5am.

i can imagine the travel that our zambo participants in the peacetech have to take every month. which is really not that bad. i mean, you just sleep on the superferry and when you wake up, you're in cot already. no sweat. well, its a different thing to travel from polloc to cotabato city though.

being the latagaw that i am, i wished then to travel by different route. i.e. by air and by land.

i imagine the land trip would take me from zamboanga to pagadian, then down to marawi perhaps then down narciso marcos highway then to cotabato. i heard stories from our friends in midsayap that this route is not very happy. i mean, the roads and the air con buses have so far improved as compared to my zamboanga trips four years ago. but it is just the time spent sleeping and not being able to do a thing because the bus in motion is keeping everyone hostage.

so i think i would not want to try that out.

so that left me with air travel. and i finally got my chance two days ago. i flew from zambo to cotabato. upon entering zambo airport after lingering at la vina, after a hefty satti dinner. i felt excitement lingering in my hands. something new is definitely coming out. i mean i rode dozens of flights before, i even took nifty and cute seair flights before, i know the feel of zambo airport. but something is definitely there.

check in was not your ordinary way. we were only allowed 10kilos baggage allowance. plus, they have to weigh each passenger in. i suspect that the crew has to balance the weight of the passengers on either side. maybe just to make sure that the plane would be easier to control. hehehe.

the rest is just the usual procedure. security checks, snacks at the terminal, the whitewashed runway, and the people waiting to leave. then they called us for check in. and that is when i realized that we can still have our preference on the seats. so mike got a window, and i got a window too! yey, i knew that seair has a special place in my heart.

it was actually my third time to get into a seair. my first was that cebu - camiguin trip. the second was when i went to bongao tawi-tawi. both were highly enjoyable and the small cockpit makes it even more interesting. you know that there is worry in the eyes of some of the people there. but it remained worries, as all have been easy and pleasurable.

i may have just to sweat right before take off and right after landing because they turn off the aircon during those times.

and so there i was right beside the window, getting all giddy and excited. it feels like the first day of school, or like finally saying what you have known all this time. it feels fresh, and warm and easy and well, nice.

i was watching the tarmac before we left zambo. i saw sta. cruz down yonder. when the sea became too boring, i looked into their in flight magazines and was reminded of all those places that i can still go to. and when land came into sight, i never took out my eyes from the window.

when the cotabato tarmac came into view. i knew that i had to stop smiling and wipe the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

when i alighted there were handprints on the violet strip on the side of the plane. i slapped a green hand and gave it a high five.

nice flight. indeed.

then i realized i hadn't turned off my cellphone.

oh well.

coffee blessings

2007-11-11T15:38:00.000+08:00

i have been accumulating ground coffee in malaya. it started with kath's birthday gift from basilan of kahawa. on the same day, lea shared with me barako from a local lipa market.

we have been enjoying great coffee every morning since i got it. thanks to nanay's diligence in brewing. i am glad not to spend php65 for a cup from deli france downstairs. ever since i discovered that there are a number of good beans from kape isla, i have avoided starbucks. well, except when no other philippine beans are accessible.

as if that wasn't enough. i received a bag of ground from someone in vietnam. i have to admit that the circumstances of receiving it are mysterious. but mischel says that the coffee was yummy and might be good for an early morning jumpstart.

coming from tagaytay today, i passed by bahay maria pasalubong center. i got a kilo of barako for a longer supply. looking around the shop, i spied upon alamid coffee! i have been planning to try it out for a long time already. and thought that maybe php450 for 1/4 kilo is a good deal already.

after dinner at the jose's we brewed some of the alamid coffee. and boy, was it yum! perfect for family bonding. after my second cup, i smile at myself for being blessed with good ground and beans by friends, acquaintances and smiling shop owners.

i go to zamboanga tomorrow. i hope time and space allows for some kahawa

malapascua - bantayan

2007-11-05T15:16:00.000+08:00

what do you do, when given a number of days holiday? the troop of anj, jan, ray, miah, mia, ninin and i, packed our bags ang hied of to cebu. to malapascua and bantayan, in specifics.

it was six full days of the sun, the sand and song. beautiful beaches, wonderful whites, bluer than blue waters. man, you have to be there to be able to see, feel, smell, hear and taste what i mean.

but more than the ordinary travel to and from the islands, its the friendships that were made, discovered and deepened that topped those that were offered by the senses. i feel so much blessed with their company. these are young men and women at their prime sharing good, fun time with each other. the best!

i could also say the same with people we met along the way: tita susan and tito peter in bantayan giving oh so generously; andy making sure that our brief stay in malapascua is pleasurable; joan, in bantayan who announces each and every meal that will be served to us. lola who took us in for a night.

i still do not like cebu city. but this trip makes it all worthwhile for the hassle.

i have so much to say. but when mom asked me how the trip went, i can only say - masaya. with a quick smile.

maybe, you just have to be there to fully understand masaya and that quick smile.

coffee yum!

2007-10-24T14:13:00.000+08:00

last night found me wondering in glorietta the week after the explosion. noticeably, the crowd is thinner. there seems to be a hush that fell in the mall in contrast to the noise and confusion last friday.

my feet took me to glorietta four to the coffee and conversations event of the philippine coffee board. free and coffee on the same line is really worth checking out, whatever the circumstances.

imagine my delight when i saw familiar brands such as amadeo coffee and monk's blend. of course present in the line up as well were figaro, coffee beanery and gourmet coffee.

we saw amadeo coffee in tagaytay. i immediately went towards it as it reminds me of a wonderful day with friends. a chance to translate the fun into taste. the first sip told me that this cup (albeit served in styro foam... the environmentalist in me is screaming) is a good choice. smooth and contains a fruity scent.

the shop at its back is cordillera coffee. hmmmm let me have another cup. it blew me away. the second cup did not loose its appeal. it was the right smoothness and the aroma is also good. it felt like silk caressing my senses while i enjoyed it.

then there was monk's blend. as homage to mindanao, i also had a cup. the taste is very familiar. pretty much the same cup i used to have in the monastery of the transfiguration in malaybalay.

amidst all of this, i found it interesting that the nescafe booth has the most number of patrons. i wonder what is it in instant coffee? beats me.

i was sleepy already when i got home, but wanted that caffeine induced state of floating to stay a bit more. so i spent the night veging out, taking a peep into the days in the lives of kokey, sarah geronimo, lastikman and isay.

i am a bit happy anyway, so i can afford a little bit of a quite domestic night.

no rain

2007-10-23T05:38:00.000+08:00

for the past 30 odd years of this life, october 20th has been greeted with the kiss of rain. the 2007 version begged to disagree though.

woke up this morning, feeling light and easy. looked out my bedside window and saw droplets making their marks on the green roof. its a checkered roof in the making. went my way doing the morning rituals, and as i put on my rubber shoes, i asked omar whether there was rain last saturday.

there was no rain. for the first time in memory, no rain from above greeted me.

i would have felt like as if a tradition has been broken. i would have felt a little bit betrayed by the weather as it did not make its usual visit. i would have felt weird and uneasy. i would have wondered why.

like i said, i would have.

interestingly, i felt not a bit betrayed or weird or uneasy or anything to that sort. i was surprised, astonished perhaps, but none of that drama.

it must have been the new things that my third decade is offering me. i know, just by sniffing the air that something is in store out of the moves that i have made. something unnamed in emerging from the old, there is new life blossoming. and that could have been the greatest present i received this year.

apart from the 6bottles of carlberg chill, a book of kite runners, two bunches of black garterized things to keep my hair in place, and the family coming to davao. the realization that there is a new adventure that i am embarking on makes the hair on my nape stand on end.

maybe its time to break the sad drama and put that frown upside down.

it was when i was walking home from mass

2007-10-08T09:27:00.000+08:00

its been a while.

since my last post, i have been walking tiptoeing in manila. trying hard not to think too much about this thing and that. i don't want to convince myself of anything about this manila chapter. i mean if this is going to be happy, then let it be happy. if this is going to be difficult, well, maybe a little sucking up would not make it hurt too much. if this is going to be sad, well...

but what do you know, the approximately 48 days i've been here were pretty much ok.

sure, traffic still gnaws my insides. dirty streets still makes my eyes itchy. food, makes me fat, and drains my wallet. sure, it is still the old manila that i left five years ago. (well, the manila that i see when i go back for some vacation is an accomodating one, a fleeting one at that. she treats me like a visitor, so all the best accomodations for this boy. anyways...)

and it does not stop at those stressful and not so pleasant things. manila, is first and foremost where most of my friends are. friends who i grew up with, friends who saw me when i still do not know what to do with my life. friends.

i saw quite a bunch of them last sunday. their first comment was how thin i was. and immediately how fat have they become. she is now married, working quite successfully in ortigas. the other she is doing well in louisiana. telling us how she is making a living in the land of dreams. he brought his girlfriend of four years. we made it a point to put the couple in a difficult situation, but to no avail, what the have betwen them is quite strong.

when i was walking home from mass, that is when it hit me. in absolute clarity boom. it was there all along.

i have been enjoying my time in manila. what with family lunches every week. kulitan with the utols. ila and her funny face in front of the camera look. mom and dad in their concern over the brood. other friends who have seen me. drinking and eating and updating ourselves of the last five years.

movies, tagaytay and all those talking somehow now makes sense.

davao is such a nice place that it has been difficult to say goodbye. but, maybe this time, manila is calling me back to do another thing. or rather, i am finding myself back in manila not to do the grind, nor run the race. but this time, to do something fresh, new and exciting.

what would that be? well, lots of things, like, maybe this weekend could be a surfing weekend or a quiet meet up with jvp friends. at the end of the day, it is finding jerry in manila and being happy to be back.

thats not bad ain't it?

as i crept in my bed under my malong last night. i felt a mild drizzle outside and a quiet wind whispering. i closed my eyes, said a little prayer and told myself, with a smile.

i am home.

for now

2007-09-15T14:39:00.000+08:00

the long wait is over. after months of hearing avenue q from my computer, we trooped to the rcbc theater to watch avenue q.

before we watched it, it has been in constant play in my earphones or in the office when i want to relax a bit, so i know all of the songs already. but i promised myself to make it a little bit different from watching rent. the theater is more full than the gmall cinema in davao. i wanted to keep my mouth shut and listen to the songs, watch the actors play and... ok, i will just sing in my mind.

the show was a blast for me! i loved watching the songs come to life. i liked seeing the actors' facial expression and the way they moved on stage. it was a great treat for me, and i think the audience in general agree with that. breaking out in laughter while hearing "the internet is for porn," emphatizing with kate monster as she belts "there's a fine line," and the other songs that i would have danced if i forget for one instant that i am in a theater. anyways, it was almost good. the only thing that bothered me and my officemate was the sound system. i felt that it should be more surround or something. but over-all it was pretty good.

more than the presentation, i think what made me enjoy the show was that it tells a story of a young adult person. those struggling with life, finding (or not finding) about his purpose, probably about being with someone (or not). kinda my story to begin with.

avenue q is sesame street when done by people my age. when i was little, i am ok with singing "letter b, letter b, letter b..." (sung in the tune of let it be... hah, as if you did not know). but now, that i am older, scarred, and more wiser, i hope, my concern would be getting in touch with the life that i am leading. and it might be the greatest question that i would have to answer. what is my purpose?

the show gave some consolation, that maybe, life is not supposed to be as hard as that. maybe life is not figuring out my true purpose. if i haven't found out about it now, then maybe i would just have to keep on living this life, until it comes. like a penny from the sky.

for many people, like kate monster, their purposes are cut up for them already. but for princeton, and me, maybe we have to look a little longer for it. it would not be easy, i know but for now, i think i will ride along with life and just hope that it will come.

for now, the hope of finding it is there, but it should not be bothersome. sometimes, looking after it zealously, makes me shun away the better persons in life. i may not know, what that big P is, but knowing that i am on my way to it, one way or the other gives me something to look forward to.

yeah, i may be in a weird situation right now, but this could only be for now. i should be on my way there. i hope.

davao e

2007-09-12T06:25:00.000+08:00

just a quick shout out-

am in davao!

the feeling is, how do i say it?

new.

hospital happy hour

2007-09-06T13:21:00.000+08:00

generally, hospitals are horrible places. there seems to be a permanent gloom that hung over the heads of people as you walk through its halls. the smiles of people are loosely fitted mask of a heavy feeling that only a hospital can give you.

some of the crankiest cashiers i've met are those working in hospitals. the doctors with their clean and white overcoat always looks serious when they attend to you. there probably is not a place in that whole sanitized and white walled building where you can find real and genuine happiness.

when i was little, i visited my mom who has just given birth to janet. i was so disturbed when i went to the hospital. i tried finding solace in the chapel to no avail. i wanted to go home already, and was almost ready to throw a fit. until my dad called me us to the nursery for the viewing time. then i saw janet for the first time. suddenly, all the world is happy!

when mom gave birth to melo, i was looking forward for that happy hour again. and i did not seem to mind the whole waiting and damp hospital-like surroundings. because i know, towards the end of the day, i would see my 2nd baby sister. come viewing time, all is happy again!

last sunday, i that a friend of a friend needs some blood. the friend has just given birth. i marched to lourdes hospital, carrying whatever happiness i have. as soon as i entered the gate, it felt as if dementors are sucking the happy in me. we were waiting for the hospital to get my blood checked. we were waiting for them to bleed me.

until we were called together by the husband of the friend. and for a moment, there must have been a doe patronus that lighted up everyone's faces. all is happy again.

morning walk

2007-09-02T10:35:00.000+08:00

more than a week back in the jungle. i still get that surprised feeling every time i open my eyes in the morning. i still have to remind that i am back in manila. i have taken it upon myself to make the most of this move and come up with a few things that i have (re)discovered around.

one of the things i (re)noticed in manila, particularly in manila is that, people walk more quickly in the morning. every morning, as soon as the fx deposits its passengers in ayala avenue, i feel like i am in some sort of a race. once the door has opened and the radio sounds of love radio is drowned by the bustle of business in makati, i feel that the starting gun has been fired. and everyone would seem to just run off, in a dizzying pace at that.

at first, my legs remembered the tension of walking quickly. i lift my shoulders, getting ready to move sideways if necessary. my legs moving quickly, diagonally, always forward, never halting. arms swinging in tune to the cadence of my legs. eyes forward, never noticing the faces of those who walk by.

i get to the office 10minutes after with sweat blotting my polo, my handkerchief starting to get drenched, and with breath almost out.

but then again, i remembered, that this same race is one of the things that i have happily foregone in davao. i resolved to keep it easy the next morning in the twilight i realized this.

and so, as soon as my feet landed in front of pnb in ayala, i stopped awhile. i let all those women in fancy clothes and men walk past me. i tried to notice the greyness of the sky. the tensed eyebrow of the woman walking past me.

i tried to walk lightly. not digging my heels into the hard pavement. i noticed that there is a taho vendor at the corner of ayala and paseo de roxas that morning, and bought myself a php10 glass. the price did not increase in the five years i was away.

people still walk past me, in this morning ritual in which they probably are not even aware of. i felt their anxiety, and their hurry so early in the morning. i clutched whatever peace that is still left of me and tried to rub it off them. i would have probably given it all if they peeked a quick glance into my face.

i arrive at the office 15minutes later. my polo still brandishes a sweat blotch, though my handkerchief is a little bit dry. but i think, i am more prepared to handle today. five minutes is a small price to pay for a good morning anyways.

afraid

2007-08-21T17:40:00.000+08:00

manila is becoming more real as my 9p flight tomorrow approach. i do not know what the future holds for me in that jungle. however, to keep my wits, i made a list of three things that would, hopefully guide me to reintegrate, re-enter manila.

with the waves making their way to the shore, and she as my witness. i will keep in mind:

1. suck it up

manila would have changed. as i have changed, tremendously. and thinking that everything will all be the same is probably expecting too much. i expect a lot of changes. and whining would not help at all. so suck it up jeriboi. life is not over, in fact it is just beginning... again.

2. suspend judgement

am the world's greatest complainer. and if there is one place in the whole wide world that has earned my ire, that would have been manila. i would complain every chance i get. how the weather is too hot, how the air is too polluted, how the traffic is so goddamned slow. but, i think i have to give manila a chance to redeem herself. it cannot be that bad. and even if it is, there would be friends and family.

3. davao and manila are not the same

davao has been home in the past five years. in fact, i wanted it to be home for me going forward. but manila is still a home. and thinking how much better one place over the other might not be fair. for both places.

am writing these things, because things would be a blur in the next few days. there are things to look forward to in manila. as there would be a lot of memories that would occupy my perception of things.

and my biggest problem is packing into bags and boxes, five years of a life. now that sucks.

count up

2007-08-10T10:36:00.001+08:00

he remembers may 30, 2002. he remember that the sun has just set, and the energetic glow of the sasa pier greeted our faces as the three of them emerged with packs full of stuff that they should be needing in 10 months. he knows that he would not be able to carry everything in his 45liter backpack. but his heart was full and ready to set on the adventure of a lifetime.

the smile on his lips was wide. the past seems a bit blurry now. his eyebrows were trying to form one straight line, his eyes straining to look forward. but all he can see are the backs of the heads, rushing to get back to the coziness of a bed. after three days at sea, the body feels like a terrific knot of muscles that needs a little bit of touch to straigten up.

he was tired but, he is hopeful. he is imagining the wondeful adventures that would be offered to him. a fresh orchard of rambutan seems in bloom, like those trees on the sides of the road going to kabacan. they appear most enticing in july and august. their heavy, hairy, red fruits dangling from the ends of branches. the wind carrying a waft of flavor in the air. each fruit seems like a different experience, a different sensation, a new discovery. and he cannot wait in reaching out and tasting one.

before he slept that night. he looked at the mirror and smiled his boyish smile, and said more to himself than to his reflection - "this is going to be one helluva ride..."

he woke up this morning before the sun smiled. as consciousness trickles in his brain, he feels his limbs starting to feel sensation. it is cold outside his malong, and his eyes strained to go back to sleep.

his sore back reminded him of the bus trip he took last night from cagayan de oro city. while it was a quick one, it felt like a thousand little kittens have stepped on his back. as light as they were, at one point the back would feel the pain of the pinkish pads of these cute little babies.

he was tired.

this morning seems different. it does not produce the same smile as before. it feels like a deep breath, buntong hininga. it reminds him that this is probably one of the last magnificent davao mornings he would find himself waking up to.

slowly, his senses continue to wake up. light creeping from outside starts to give his room for two years a nice glow. he grabbed his cellphone and took note of the time, and for the first time the date. august 10.

today sounds like a good day to say goodbye.

a goodbye that is sounds more of "so long" or "see you again." five years in davao is not an easy thing to forget. but five years in davao also lends a feeling of security. somehow he knows, the five years he spent in davao would still somehow beckon him to return.

one of these days. or in a few years.

he picked up his malong as he skipped out of bed. stretched his arms, and told himself, 'welcome to another adventure.' pretty soon, this would only be a memory. but he was glad to have lived through this memory, and all of those little and big memories that has shaped the life between that night in sasa, 5 years ago, and this morning, in his room, at 6.29am.

another day awaits. another tick in his calendar in his mind.

anybody listening in the sona?

2007-07-23T10:58:00.000+08:00

right about now, my girlfriend in a dream is giving yet another masterfully written speech. maybe just a slur and a blur there,her english would be eloquent, nicely said words and promises. she would have been speaking right in front of a whole gallery of dirty hands and clean intentioned senators and congressmen whose interests in what she says varies from:

1. i hope she finishes soon so we can get over this ceremonial show.

to

2. i pray your nose gets to become taller than you... you liar.

before i feel the bane of the human security act... (which to my mind is better termed as government insecurity act of 2007).

as i was saying, right about now, she is now in front of the bicamera. she is in her best telling her minions how the economy has grown, how the government has saved bossi (after allegedly paying 4,000,000), how infrastructures are booming in luzon, and how it is not in mindanao, how everything is nice and gay and beautiful.

while outside, the masses has year on year gathered to present their version of the real state of the nation. it usually is a stark contrast.

ok, the numbers may have shown a spark of hope. and there are definitely some progress here and there. yet, the voice of the masses not feeling this so called progress is definitely a voice that can never be ignored. it will transcend the barriers of riot police and someone must listen to these cries.

and so we are stuck.

the versions of the truth in the philippines is spoken by both sides at the batasan, right about now. but no one wants to listen. both are talking (and shouting, proclaiming progress or burning an effigy). but no one wants to do anything about it.

the girlfriend does not want to do it. because it would mean that she has done a little bit (ok for the benefit of the doubt) of wrong all these years. she would be opening a whole lot of defenses that has somehow kept her in power. and the slightest threat to this power, she would crush, like a shiny boot would crush a cockroach on the marble steps of malacanang.

the people, for their part, also would not listen. their sentiments are far too strong to be ignored one more time. even if that has been happening ever since. i imagine my compatriots during my time in UP. i know them well, those who have been to the picket lines and shouted their lungs out. i know also of people who were born out of the storm. they also have shouted their lungs out. and i imagine the fresh fists that would be raised today. they are in fact shouting their lungs out. yet the same voices of what they have been fighting for have become too noisy to hear what the other side would have to say.

and so the people, the government is stuck.

the truth is held by these two. the one in the inside, preaches hope (in some form). the people outside believes in some way that there should be something better for them. if only they would sit down together and get their acts together.

i say to the girlfriend. stop patronizing your numbers in congress and the senate. they are just there anyway because of their own economic gains (ok, not everyone, for example there is senator..... ahmmmmmmm, what's his face? and oh congressman..... hmmmmmm, tsk tsk, i am a forgetful bud).

i hope one sona will come when everybody comes together to move forward. rather than celebrating or damning their version of the truth (or the untruth).

knock, knock...

whois there?

eddie

eddie who?

eddie wala...

there she blows

2007-07-18T16:24:00.000+08:00

i first met the north wind in a movie. she was the invisible character that seems to be so powerful that leads vianne rocher from one town to another. since then, whenever, there is a movement in this so called life, i would always remember her.

she is a phenomenon of such intense character. who can resist her charms? when she calls my name, i have no other choice but to follow her whim. she is has been the reason why i braved lands beyond my vocabulary. she is the light in the long tunnel of uncertainty and doubt. most of the times, i felt lost, my bearings fail me, my compass is running haywire, but when she blows, i always turn to her call and i feel found.

and there she goes.

she has blown yet another time.

i felt her cold, sweet kiss one june's day morning. playfully entering the room from beneath the door. the room was airconditioned, but her presence made sure that i'd know that it is her. the hair on my arms stood on end. i shifted position, trying to listen to what my boss is telling me. but i see her voice, and hear her heartbeat in him. she is here. and there is no need to fear.

but, i was afraid. it was a conviction that has started to crumble. i was afraid of admitting something. something that i have held for truth all these five years. afraid of letting go of a life so fun, a life well lived, a life on the edge of everything.

then i remember a friend asking me over kfc lunch, one day, in ncc: ano pa ba ang mayroon sa davao for you?

i shrugged, for i know deep down, there is. but i just could not put a finger to it. one thing led to another. there were many voices from people i know. asking me the same question, giving me their unsolicited advice. yet, i know her voice, the one that i have waited for and is now quietly whispering, over and over like a mantra.

the north wind asked me once more: what is left in davao for you?

this time, i shook my head.

for there seems to be none.

i am still afraid. but she is blowing mightily.

and so i must go.

back.

because she calls.

counting to seven

2007-07-15T09:59:00.000+08:00

it was cynthia night last night at the 70s bistro!

she was singing the saturday night away with cj, who plays the tabla, with malou on the keyboards, don on slide guitar, jerry on 6string bass and jay on drums. it was a full regalia of probably the best musicians out to play on a saturday night.

the saturday crowd, started to groove around 10pm as cynthia and her band took center stage. amidst the haunting accompaniment of the the slide guitar, cynthia started her set with familiar songs and melodies. songs that started to haunt the strangeness between my ears.

it was probably a saturday morning in davao i heard her speak to me. it was the time between waking and sleeping. the first hours of the day, as the sun gently makes its presence felt beyond the screen window of our apartment. you only get up when you are ready, especially if it was a sunday. and before that proverbial readiness, i felt the sweet caress of melody from the ladies room. am i dreaming or am i dead?

no, this is better than being dead. this is the real thing, sunday mornings in davao. it was glad to meet you ms. alexander.

then we saw her in mts (this is what, almost 5 years ago), with cj and malou. last night, cynthia introduced both her friends up to how many years has she been rehearsing with them. "this is cj, we've been practicing for four years." in between strums of guitar and nodding of the head, and the clink of bottles against bottle. "this is malou, we've been practicing for... a decade." everyone cheered, lifted their bottles and glasses in the air.

the lesson she gave concerns the number of beats per measure. instead of the normal eight, cynthia and the gang, strum, bang, tap and hum in seven beats. so it was, one, two, three, FOUR, five, six, SEVEN... and so on.

amazing, world music at its best. i realized she can jam with sting!

seven beats to a measure. and i thought, the way we play music have always stayed the same. but there are several other ways. as many as there are ways to skin a cat.

more songs, happy melodies continued to occupy the hearts of the people. the lyrics intertwine with the instruments as if they were one. i imagine our glazed eyes opening up the windows of our souls. it embraces and caresses our spirits, only to be brought back to earth again by the applause of everyone.

towards the end of their set, just before comfort in your strangeness, cynthia covered the indigo girls with a soulful rendition of love will come to you. i had to close my eyes there to imagine the girls singing. she knows this by heart and i was drawn to her voice singing beside me. it was as if i could stay this way listening to her.

'tis a pity, nights like these, like laughter also ends. and life goes on, counting to seven, swinging to the beat of the drums, the hum, the strum.

evening walk

2007-07-10T08:54:00.000+08:00

its 7p on a sunday evening. an hour in san pablo proved to be soul gratifying. after a languid day, lazing around in the darkness of my room, under the familiar scents of my malong, i figured i need two things. one, a decent meal, and two, some exercise.

times like these, i'd let my feet do the walking. so i made my way towards matina, passing by the small right of way pass from the church towards juna avenue. my stomach feels like a taps and decided that i would keep on walking until the familiar bouquet of hulongsilog is caught by my nostrils. the nearest would be mts.

upon reaching matina, the lights of ncc partly blinded my vision. they were too extreme, too noisy. thus, i resolved that i would not be visiting that mall anytime soon. and so i walked. trying to stay invisible as people young and old, seems to be hurrying towards the pedestrian lane that they should cross in order to get to the airconditioned air of ncc.

i breathed exasperation, shook my head, and reaffirmed that i do not want anything commercialized for tonight. i want my air, davao-y, my meal freshly cooked, not on styrofoam, nor on some strange containers of plastic before being laid in front of me, or at the least something born in davao.

the crowd and the confusing thinned as i approached ateneo high school. in my five years of this so called life, i have often passed this way, mostly inside a jeep. sometimes in a taxicab. more often than not i look at it from the other side of the road. after downing some couple of bottles of red horse it looks like a coffin that is not for the dead. it looks sad, and hi tech, and somehow dead. probably because i only get to pause in front of it in the dead of the night.

but this time, i felt a bit of life as i passed by the huge mango trees that stand guard outside its newly constructed walls. i never would have realized that they were mango trees until i have came close enough to see their leaves. i have never seen them get heavy with fruit. maybe they are sterile. maybe, they have grown old. that could probably be it, the body was an immense big chunk of wood. mortals like me need to join hands with another to hug its beauty.

there was another specie of a tree, that jutted out differently from the mango trees. i am not able to ascertain its kind. i am not a biologist, nor a tree lover after all. somebody mustve realized that they wanted variety. so out of nowhere, lets plant this seedling and see how it will blend with our mango line. and to punctuate it, lets put a nim tree at the end to keep away the mosquitos.

i am getting into the head of some imaginary gardener.

i pressed on, taps was closed in mts. there is one in illustre. the nearest would have been in gov. duterte along the line of jollibee and mandarin. but they closed it down, to give way to a grocery store that is frequented by many people. except me.

i am lost in this thought as i started to cross gov. generoso bridge. heavy traffic has been the daily face of this bridge of the city, ever since the other lane was damaged. so they had to tear it down in order to build a new structure. it has been so for the most part of this year. and they say, it would last until next year to have it fixed. i say, it is plain stupid. probably somebody thought that we should get accustomed to the traffic. and loosing on lane of the bridge, and letting the cranes sit by and watch over it without doing anything might be a nice way to do it. i say again. plain stupid. what about the commerce in bankerohan to the matina part of the world? what about the people from the lanang side wanting to visit their friends in the other side? i had to say again. plain stupid.

i saw the waters of davao river swirl underneath as i walked. it looks like they are agreeing with my angst. the tides join with the brown water from the depths of the mountains yonder. at this point it is not only fresh water and salt water, but fresh salt water. or salty fresh water. or brackish water. or whatever. the identity of one is now becoming a swirl. a reminder of its history as it blends with another body of water, similarly loosing its identity.

i guess it would not be a problem further on as both join the davao gulf. now, it is now gulf water.

whatever.

i pushed on. my stomach is grumbling and here i am making sense out of the senseless. taps is just around the corner. hmmmm. wait, i think i will see if hkm carinderia is still open. its my favorite carinderia in the whole wide world. food cooked fresh (well in the morning), friendly staff, exorbitant prices (imagine me paying php79 for a meal... in a carinderia). no, it was not because of the sinful expense that i liked hkm. probably, it was because of the tradition attached to it.

we used to eat here in my agri-aqua days. gaga, before she left for the states also ate here. hkm speaks of something familiar. something like home. something personal.

after a meal of humba, sugbang atay, a cup of rice and 8oz coke. i paid ate, the cashier, and left.

and made my way home. this time riding a jeep.

more than meets the eye...

2007-07-04T17:49:00.000+08:00

multiply message board has been so pregnant of reviews on transformers. everyone seems to be raving about it. well who would not, as it was an excellent film, true eye candy, humorous, and has a lot of value to it (especially when prime is holding the mike).

but my story on transformers is not about the movie.

when we were young, the jose kids were not allowed to watch tv from mondays to thursday. mommy jose thought that watching too much tv would distract the kids' study habits. i was too young to rebel, and besides, i really wanted to study then (yeah right).

and so it goes, i would wait for friday (or is it saturday) wherein i could tune in to my favorite tv shows. one of which was transformers. it was nice watching robots fighting their wars on earth. but what gave me the tingles was optimus (he was called optimus by his friends, and prime by megatron) always narrating about the good he found on human beings.

somehow, that made quite an impression for this wide eyed boy watching this red and blue 18wheeler transform into a robot that is like a human himself. although, my greatest mystery then, was how he could talk without moving his mouth, if he has one.

in school, we would be drawing the autobots sign whenever we find a space on our notebooks. it was quite difficult drawing it in the bathroom, as our walls are already occupied by funnier quips like "what you hold now is the future of human kind." nobody wants to be megatron or the decepticons. after the weekend, me and my nerdy friends would be talking about the weekend episode of transforms. "anong nangyari sa transformers?" even if all of us were glued to our respective tvs.

and we would go into saying how good the autobots were, how annoying is the voice of starscream, how the humans are so lucky to have the autobots at their side. in short we wanted to be like optimus, or like bumble bee (who was a volkswagen in the original cartoons) who was very loyal to humans.

we would feel the pain of one of the autobots who would lament on optimus' relentless love and respect for humans. and be glad that they were on our side, because the autobots always win. even if the decepticons are more "astig" and looks more powerful, well, because they are war machines in the first place.

looking back in those faithless days of old, when i still do not know where i am headed to, as if now, i know where; match that with the movie last night; and frame those in the recent events of this so called life- it kinda tickles my fancy.

transitions.

that is what it is. some say that those things come about every five years or so. it could be a call to change against the basic human yearning to stay the same. alas, the north wind is blowing once more. and when it does, it usually takes me to places and situations that i have never been into.

i guess, those early days have a lot to say why i am here right now. and i think it has a lot to say as well about the direction that i would be taking. while i still am confused and dazed from all those letting gos, and trying to hold ons, that i have been juggling in the last month or so, i take a little breath of air and see where i am.

its so confusing yes. but i know deep in the dark is the clarity that this soul is seeking.

but the eternal question still remains, would it be a 110 or a 220? my take? 110.

why?

i do not know... yet.

there i go again, confusing myself yet again.

istayl

2007-07-03T08:57:00.000+08:00

i went out with friends last night. we were at bakbak, drinking its renowned ice cold beer. our conversations moved to blogging. ok, what about blogging?

i feel that i wanted to change my writing style. i wanted to write like haruki murakami, twisted. or, or like chuck palahniuk, dark and mysterious.

maybe i should read more.

good morning!

2007-07-02T08:13:00.000+08:00

woke up at 4am to drive my friend's mom who leaves today for the states. she'd be coming home soon so there were no drama at the airport. what i found dramatic was the way the sun made its presence felt in davao.

left the house with the moon still reigning supreme in the night sky. the cold whisked at my still wet hair, as i jumped across puddles on the street. it was a rainy night last night.

in a matter of minutes, the sky seems to break open as the slow rays of the sun begin to seep through the dark. oh yeah, it is morning. tricycle drivers who have spent the whole night awake at the corner of matina and sandawa were all but glad to give us a ride to my friend's home. maybe, they were just waiting for us for them to cap their work night. the glare of the morning sun would surely hurt their eyes later.

driving along boulevard, the the clouds play with the rays of the sun as it slowly ascends in the eastern sky. it would be light soon. i quickly shot a glance at my right as our car passed by the gov.generoso bridge... ah my favorite place in davao city is still as wonderful as ever. i told myself this is a beautiful morning.

i must do this again, sometime soon.

hopefully, i'd wake up early enough.

lakbayan

2007-06-15T20:04:00.000+08:00

obviously, i cannot think of anything to write about. so there

My Lakbayan grade is B!

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out at Lakbayan!

Created by Eugene Villar.

2007-06-15T18:38:00.000+08:00

also my own...

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

dirty finger chronicles

2007-05-15T12:39:00.000+08:00

*
aling glecia went to yoyong early in the morning on that monday. she was determined to exercise her right to suffrage that day. she has been a long time resident of paang bundok for nearly 50 years now. since the day that she married her (now deceased) husband, she has lived in that barangay. she has observed all of the kids in the neighborhood grow up along with houses and apartments that sprang up like mushrooms themselves.

so to speak, she has actively participated in almost all political exercises ever since she can't remember. the only year in which she was absent was in the year her husband died in 1998.

imagine her horror when she could not find her name in the certified voters' list. she was holding the comelec id supplied by her barangay to supposedly help her find her precinct faster, thus a more convenient process of voting. but it was no use. she felt confused and frustrated knowing that she cannot participate this year.

she left the ppcrv clutching her black bag and shaking her head. "sayang," she thought.

**
upon entering the yoyong building, there is a door just at the right of the stairs. it seems to be the busiest room in that polling place. busier than precincts combined. when my bladder seemed to be full of excess water, which i did not sweat, i know that this door would lead to relief.

no doubt, it is a men's room. there's urinal on the wall, the type in which a ditch is fashioned to catch the piss and in which men would as much as possible face away from each other. but what is this i see? women emerging from the cubicles. so we have become unisex today, i thought.

at the end of the day, it has been so stinky! and yet the line does not seem to vanish. how can this door be so famous? when all it has to offer is basic relief, and the perfume of ammonia. what does it have that makes it so special. i guess, people have no choice.

i hate that this happened not only in that restroom but in the quezon city mayoralty race. sb, was the only candidate credible enough to win. there are other "unknowns" who took the cudgels. but the point is, quezon city residents have no choice. i mean, he's not bad. but he is not fantastic either. there were still a lot of things that could have been better, like fixing quezon avenue for example. or solving the squatter problem.

yeah, he is still smells like that restroom in the morning, but later on, he would have to stink for all that he is not doing, or doing for that matter.

i wish there was a choice.

as a matter of fact there was! i did not vote for him.

***
emy is an old guy. his hair is almost white. he wears two pairs of eye glasses. one to let him see far objects, the other so that he can read. but today, he looked at the vote in a deeper and more respectable way.

he got invited by pareng bing to join the ppcrv. a volunteer group of lourdes parishoners who simply wanted more out of the electoral process. sounds exciting for him, plus he'll get to do different and something patriotic (if there is such a thing) for a change.

so he donned his ppcrv shirt and marched to the polling places at 6am.

for the next 18 hours he only left his assigned precinct to vote (30mins), to have lunch with his kids (1 hour) and to pee (a combined 1 hour and 15 mins. est). he watched the vote, and waited and watched and waited. and he realized that it is important for people to do this. because it shows the enormous power of the citizen to make the votes count.

he left yoyong at around 1am. where other ppcrv volunteers still sit and wait for all ballot boxes to transport to city hall. "fine young men and women" he thought.

we might actually have a future.

lost in makati

2007-05-12T08:06:00.000+08:00

there was a certain bad trip weighing my legs that night. i feel tired, but i also feel that i do not want to go home... yet.

dinner was quick at oodys, plus a considerable amount of time spent at the powermac store. when the ladies went on their way, i tried to fill my lungs with the makati air. it smells familiar, hell, this was my playground 5 years ago.

this is where i have played, made friends with my demons, gambled and won... and lost. this is where i learned many things about me, some foundational learnings that have become so much more manifest these days.

i looked around, it seems that the only considerable change was in greenbelt. when i left in 2002, greenbelt 3 was still being constructed, greenbelt 1 was still the best shopping place for christmas shopping. but glorietta, landmark, park square were pretty much the same. maybe, i should move along and retrace my steps when i used to spend my days, and some nights in this city.

from greenbelt, i passed along the landmark, it is now closed for the day. the atm's still blink as if inviting people to withdraw cash some more. i felt for my yakan wallet inside my beltbag. yeah, its still there. not much money, but enough to get me home. headed on towards glorietta, the booming life in one of the hip places fronting the park squares were in contrast to the silent mannequins that guard the addidas display that i also passed by.

they watched me as i was quietly thinking, where were the places that i used to ride fx for malaya. hagen dazs still blitzed with its character... i remember sweet nights here when we would stop by for a quick bite, after a lot of beer. how about that.

i knew that i should be going to ayala avenue, so off i went. the young mother with here kid, i noticed a while ago is still waiting for a taxi. that is when i resolved that i would not take a taxi. am not a stingy at all, but i'd like to play a game and see if i can still find my way.

the night is warm and as i made my way in ayala, i stopped to wait for a bus. by now, right across the street is the makati stock exchange. such a nice building, i used to say. and i still said that night. i was alternately looking at the humongous cavern of the lobby and for the bus that would take me to quezon avenue. cubao ibabaw, no. crossing ibabaw, no. ortigas ilalim, no. then, i remebered that i would never find that perfect combination. if i want to have that quick trip home, i would just need to flag down a taxi and i should be on my way. but the red lights at the front of the windshields of the white cabs simply did not entice me. my soul thirsts for more adventure.

i continued to walk. on the sidewalks, on the streets. i would have certainly earned the ire of the traffic aide had i done this at daylight. but the night embraces the city, and the crocodiles and alligators in uniform are either fast asleep or spying on their new victims.

my feet slowed down as it sensed an all too familiar neighborhood. the familiar facade of the building on my right... hey, its the lkg tower. no wonder, a few buildings onward is ayala life fgu. and yes, there should be fx around here.

but no. there was none. nada. zilch.

is it my time to concede defeat? would the red meter lights at the front of the windshield rest for a while? i will give it 10 minutes.

then, as i shaked my head, i saw another familiar sight. a former officemate. michelle! we talked. well, she talked. i listened. i heard about stuff that i already know. but still i listened, looks like that i am not the only one that is tired and needed someone to pour out my thoughts. so i let her.

pumayat ka....
i interjected: thank you.

parang mas masaya ka dati...
i laughed. my droopy eyes always gives that impression. oh well, if she would just listen. but not this time i guess.

we talked some more. well, she talked some more, i listened some more. then a van came along and picked up the last passengers for nagtahan. well this is my ride. success, no taxis for me today. i checked the time its almost midnight. i dozed off for the trip. knowing that i would be home in a few minutes.

ps. my low eq caught up with me in dimasalang, half past 12 midnight. no more jeepneys that time, so i sucked it up and took a cab. oh well.

let me see today is may 7

2007-05-07T15:29:00.000+08:00

today is probably just any other day on the road for me.

not with standing the fact that i am in cagayan de oro for the night, and typing away in gazebo cafe in a. velez street. i also came from a whole day talking with a good friend who is running for a party list seat in congress.

we talked about just about anything, his campaign, his struggles, the many compromises that he has to make, and basically the passion to change some things, if not a lot of things.

however, while listening to him, what struck me most is that i have never really thought about the coming elections. i remember that i used to be so passionate about elections, about the sanctity of the vote, about the little thing i can do to contribute for change.

but ever since i put my trust on gma, preferring her over fpj, and raul roco (i know, shame on me...) i came to be disillusioned. i thought that there is really nothing i can do to change governance, to stop corruption to influence the leadership of this country. and i am left to sulk at my own opinion. somehow when i saw gma (who was my girlfriend in a dream), that i voted for, saying sorry in front of live television, my hope succumbed.

but talking to my friend somehow created a tiny spark in my almost-apathetic-may-14-attitude for the elections. i came to realize that, yeah while my vote is only one vote, it is but indeed something that could chart the story of this country. i was wrong in 2004, not voting now would be more wrong.

at least now, 7 days before the polls open, i come to articulate one very important lesson i learned: that is to vote, not out of practicality, but out of conviction. and the belief that something wll turn out well from all of this, and the hope that we can still work together.

eeeewwwww. shitty realizations, but then again that is just me. hoping and praying and still believing that my vote is still my voice, and my future.

bud bongao

2007-03-09T16:46:00.001+08:00

woke up early to catch the sunrise today. but i would like to catch it at the highest peak in bongao island, tawi-tawi, philippines.

we parked mon's multicab van at the southwestern side of bongao island, just very near the sea breeze resort. it looks like a daunting climb. with wall faces looming at our path. i have not climbed since apo in october 2004. i stretched a bit to make sure that i would be ok through it.

about an hour and 15 minutes of quick step climb up, we came upon the main shrine of bud bongao (bud is the tausug word for a mountain or in this case a hill). it is an fenced structure made of a wooden frame and covered by a white cloth. from inside, pilgrims pray for the intercession of a spirit to intercede for them for various reasons. either to heal the cough of a husband or to pray for passing a board exam. the people of bongao would trek through the jungle and encounter the monkeys that guard the sanctuary just to commune and ask for the help fo the so called spirit.

it was said that the spirit revealed his resting place to a holy man who in turn popularized it with his fellow town mates. the legend turned into practice and into custom, and now even with the declaration of islam leaders of the practice being haram (as there is only allah as the one true god, and believing in spirits that heal is contrary to this belief), the local folks would still climb and hope for a miracle.

for us it was for sight seeing.

the exerting climb was rewarding with views and stories. tong, our climbing buddy was fast and quick on his feet, i used to remember how i can climb as fast as he is. in one of our pitstops he pointed to an island off the horizon. the island is known as sibutu, 3 -4 hours away from bongao. it crosses the sulu sea, thus the current is very very strong. another two hours, you would have reached sitangkay and the turtle islands through a different route. three hours more and there is sindangan, malaysia. i imagined the lights and the life of this tiny malaysian city. i heard its call and i said to myself that i would reach its ports someday.

quick trivia: turtle island is a marine protected sanctuary that is protected by a multi-sectoral group of stakeholders from bongao and from sindangan. ain't that cool?!?!

teaser: if there is sibutu, another island in the tawi-tawi archipelago is called binilat. go figure.

a few meters from that view spot, tong stopped again to point to simunul. simunul is another island which houses the oldest mosque in the philippines, the sheik makhdum mosque! my imagination ran wild, especially when tong told me of the beautiful women and people who have arabs from malaysia as their ancestors.

from the same point, he pointed to sangay shapu, a sand bar and the la island, which is in turn is a dive spot.

from the main shrine, there are two more viewing decks. the left side, afforded a view of the southwestern side of the island. sibutu is visible here, and the stories of politicians and their antics were casually shared. there is another peak visible from this deck that looks like pico de loro. a zip line could be attached from this deck, rappel down. or rock climb up! possibilities are endless.

the right viewing deck, is more strenuous, and has a wider and expansive view of sanga sanga island. the airport is visible, msu tawi-tawi and the straight that separates bongao and sanga sanga. it truly is a magnificent place, lots of opportunities to explore and discover.

when i arrived yesterday and saw bud bongao, i asked casually what is its name, and whispered beneath my breath, "i want to climb it..."

mon warned me that once i say it, i must do it. otherwise, there would be repercussions to me... stories according to old folks.

i didn't need much prodding. climbed it i did.

lupa sug

2007-03-07T22:35:00.001+08:00

i slept almost the whole eight hours
going to jolo. i probably got tired from our santa cruz island
trip during that sunday. nothing could have prepared me for that
monday. i tried to leave my pre-judgements of the place as nickel
princely sailed off zamboanga port. i know i have heard some
things about the place... sadly, the not so good ones, overcome
the good ones.

i got the text from derkie, warning me not to go with the crowd.
i would learn later on that usually, the bombs go off during the
rush. so i stayed put, tried to see if my sunburn is that
bad. when i went out, i was greeted with one of the nicest
mornings i have ever seen in my life.

the sun is raising its rays in front of me. its not the hard
light of the day yet, a soft, gentle reminder of another day.
derkie is in the midst of tausugs, waiting for their beloved. its
a port scene. i missed it last night, when i boarded. but
at that time, i felt the people welcoming their loved ones. it
was as if, i am being welcomed myself.

we went off on a motorcycle to have satti. satti is a tausug
dish. it's mainstays are puso (a packet of rice cooked inside
coconut leaves) and satti sauce, and a few sticks of beef or beef
liver. the satti sauce makes the dish special. because it
can never be the same from one house to another. theirs are
secret formulations of the sauce that spells immediate success or a
ading into obscurity. if you are in zamboanga check out jimmy's
satti in pilar street.

the meal was even made more precious because of kahawa; a local,
organic, native coffee. its brew makes for a strong one and a
potent wake me upper. some say that this is where the tausugs get
their courage. i would not wonder why.

during the day, i interspersed my wonder with wander. i went
around the streets of downtown jolo and witnessed the market.
trade is characterized uniquely in this place. you can find big
fish being sold in bargain. php80 for two large barileson.
there are also a lot of pad jak. pad jak are pawnshops. i
heard that this is because of the tausugs propensity to put their
treasure in gold and jewelry. so that when they need some money, they
would just go to the nearest pad jak and pawn their jewelry. this
is supposed to be haram on the other side of things, but who can blame
the people?

i also got a chance to buy kahawa for home, and looked around their
tiangges, tricycle rides going to the kapitolyo showed hundred year old
acacias standing proud and tall. it stands as a reminder to
everyone of the history of jolo. no one can deny it, and no can
tell you all about it in one sitting.

in the afternoon, dr. barra of msu-jolo treated us to more kahawa and
bambang. bambang is a platter of the tausug delicacies. i
can identify the banana bread, fried banana fingers and this delicacy
that looks like lumpia but the filling is like bucayo. that was
my favorite. while having our snack, i shared with derkie and the
good doctor of how i felt that as if i was not being stared at.
that is quite a new and welcome feeling for me. because i have
felt that in most of my travels. it was as if all the world is
observing me. making me feel uncomfortable. however, in
jolo, ever since i woke up at the pier, i have never felt a anyone
stare me down. amazing. derkie has some propositions,
either, my features look like that of a tausug or, i am with familiar
people. either way, because of that experience, i can say that
jolo is a welcoming town.

when night came, i felt exhausted from the meetings i had. i just
wanted to curl up and sleep. but i have to go back to zamboanga
for more business the next day. derkie, invited me for my last
meal in the islands to the provincial capitol. in one of the stages,
there is this barbeque place that serves chicken barbeque with the best
sauce. it felt good talking with ustadz ibs, al and derkie and
sharing with them the simple meal. we shared not only the good
times of eating, but our faith in our god, and somehow our passions
that goes along with it.

finally, it was time to go. i shook the hands of my new friends,
after every which, i bring my hand to my chest, and said my
goodbye. my steps on the ramp was in consonant with the full moon
rising behind my back. as if telling me "goodbye, and see you
again."

i placed my bag inside the aircon room of nickel princely and went back
outside to say goodbye. i spotted a boy, a girl, a young woman
and some old women looking up. they are waving their hands and
saying goodbye to someone on the upper deck. i can feel them
holding back their tears but at the same time, wishing for a safe
voyage for their loved one, together with a prayer to bring them back
someday. i would have waved my hands to them, but i stopped
myself in time. it felt like as if the island is saying
goodbye to me. but never the permanent goodbye, its a wish that
we will see each other again.

as i braced for the ride back to zamboanga, i told myself that i will see jolo once more. lupa sug, the land of the waves.

to travel

2007-02-28T00:27:00.001+08:00

this year is the year of the itchy feet. i have been all around mindanao and manila all so many times that i feel a visitor when i go home already. but whois complaining, this is what i wished for and now god, in his wisdom gave in to my silly-ness.

and as if it was not enough, i am going to basilan - sulu- tawi tawi in the week after next! i have been wishing to go there and look at what god has given me. in my quiet moments i came to think about stuff that makes me smile, even at the mere prospect.

stuff # 1: i travel because i like. there is no one thing that i want to do the most, it is to travel and be at places most people can only dream of. it is something that has breathed more life in my mundane and simple life. the fulfilment of getting to my destination and the simple waiting while life passes me by, watching through my window, is the serene thought that i am living. doing what i should be doing.

stuff # 2: i travel to be: not only do i travel to go to places but also to do something worthwhile. i feel that my talents should be shared to those who need them. i am not a superman to save the world, but at least, i know that i am a man for others. someone who can do things with a smile in his face, even if it means being sent to places not in the map.

stuff # 3: i travel to my destiny. like any confused person, i am on the search for my jewel. i am on my road to writing my history. traveling somehow gives me a physical sense of getting "there" to my kaira-uma, to my desired state. i dream of saving souls, even just one, even if that soul is mine.

enough of this messianic/philosophical bullshit. but at the very least, i travel because i am happy travelling. and i guess people do what they do because it brings a joy, a smile in their lips. if i am to die today, i would like to hear that someone declares in her eulogy, "jerry is someone who can never stay in one place."

and so off i go. i may not be the happiest person, but i feel that i am contented and just chilling to accept what my travels, and life in general has to offer.

post script manila

2007-02-26T17:20:00.001+08:00

my manila trip started with an almost fiasco, only to end up as one.

my flight to davao was slated at 4p, saturday. i was getting ready and leaving, mayon street at around 2p. i was waiting there, looking both ways for a taxi that would take me to the airport. some stopped and as soon as they read my mouth saying "airport, to the airport" they immediately shook their weary head of theirs and proceeded in their way. not bothering to care

at 2.30p, with a more worried line traversing my forehead, i asked omar to bring me to the airport. i knew i wouldn't make it when we crossed nagtahan and the diggings on my right were happily digging away, while motorists are slowly moving. but i wanted to push on. i wanted to go home right away.

and so it goes, arrived at the airport at 3.30p, made my way to the counter. the lady at the counter was already all relaxed, sucking on a lollipop as she said "a;lsdful;,n;dgopwr.nfg;asgliyglgfl;u" translated: the counter is closed, its a full flight, rebook your flight for the earliest schedule, which is tomorrow, sunday.

damn.

oh well, what is another night in manila?

pre-manila blues

2007-02-16T13:37:00.001+08:00

do i really have to go to manila?

that is the first thought that shuddered my sleep this morning at 5am. sheeeeet, i have a flight to manila at 7.45am! experience told me that i would not want to be late for a flight. that would mean adding more stress to an otherwise stressful experience already. at least for the love of me i would be able to take it easy before the sojourn. though breakfast would be at the airport already at least my heart wouldn't beat through my neck as i travel to the airport from matina.

anyways, i arrived at 6.30a. lots of time to grab a sandwich and a good cup of coffee at cafe to go at the airport. enjoy a quick cigarette perhaps. these are happy images forming in my mind when i saw a burgeoning line right at the check in counter for PAL (plane always late...). this couldn't be right.

i checked the flight schedules. i couldn't find the 7.45a schedule, typical.

there are, however, an 8.15a and a 9.20a schedules. and guess what the longer line, and the later flight schedule would be my flight. brillant. lots of time in my hands.

i managed to check in 2 hours before my flight. talk about being early.

i can feel sapot knocking on my door. i feel my nerves tingling.

good thing there was a quick and nice breakfast with ava for some more stories and pan cakes.

fair enough.

oh well, another week to bear. good thing it started just right.

yakan village

2007-02-10T16:19:00.001+08:00

the yakan village in zamboanga is a small bunch of shops near the lobregat resort in zamboanga city. there were around eight or so shops clustered around a small area. at the onset, from a davaoeños point of view, it looks like aldevinco, a smaller version and warmer version. and it was minute in comparison to the barter in pasonanca (which i would be visiting with omar and divine later on).

but something about that brief afternoon visit, wants me to come back with a camera. it was brief, we only stayed for 30 minutes or so. maybe it was that few minutes i spent talking with a lady and her daughter who were selling yakan weaves. they described the different names of the pattern.

the sabutangan, is the most intricate and prized of all patterns. it is a memory design, in which the weaver makes the pattern based on her memory. i inspected the fine design and i wondered if its machine made already. it looked so fine. i concluded it could be, but that would not discount its beauty.

the bunga sama is the pattern that i usually see in aldevinco. it is usually made of blue cloth and the one other color of thread for the pattern. they usually make them the patterned cloth into table runners, placemats and glass coasters.

the sinaluan on the other hand is the original yakan cloth. the lady at the stall and her daughter told me that it takes a few days to finish one meter. the pattern is also impressive with a combination of colors and designs that i lack the words to describe. for my un-expert eye, the sinaluan is like a malong that is made yakan style.

in my next trip to zambo, i hope to have my camera and my friendly smile ready. i sure would like to hear more of the weaves.

beer @ bakbak

2007-02-05T18:03:00.001+08:00

sometimes, i would like a place where the beer is ice cold. just your good old fashioned red horse that is ice cold. somehow, asian fusion has become lame in serving my favorite beer a bit warm. if only there is a place in davao city where the beer is ice cold, i would be sure to visit.

during my last visit to manila, i got together with ninin, andy (lim) and steph, and they were talking about bakbak. where the beer is cold. strike the bottle with a fork, and the beer would freeze like slush.

i just have to try it.

and tried it i did!

it is a small place at the back of K1 ktv in torres. it looks like a carinderia, but with the tables all full. all the more intriguing me. i must be true.

our first bottle was not a disappointment. its definitely ice cold beer rushing through my throat almost giving me brain freeze. well, one good turn deserves another. so i got another bottle, this time to see if the beer will freeze, using andy (lau)'s trick.

a fresh bottle, i got a fork and struck the bottle right at the middle. and observed. the beer started to bubble, then ever so slowly, the little bubbles turned into little globs of beer. i told a funny story, and then when i brought the bottle to my mouth, the beer has turned into a slush.

ahhhhhhhhhh, so good! i remember 7-11. i remember yani's red horse float!

and there is nothing to prove anymore. but what the heck, i ordered another bottle to cap the night.

mobalik ko diri.

honeyed bahalina

2007-01-31T15:13:00.001+08:00

monday night. ahh, what a nice to time to... drink.

monday started early with me rushing to kabacan to take care of what i left there. i am virtually clean of assisi stuff. but then again, maybe not, judging from the panaw sa kalinaw shirt i am wearing right now. but then again, i may never ever get to steer clear away from it. not now not ever...

anyways.

i arrived just in time for a late dinner of batsoy in lanang executive homes. thanks for the meryenda treat of batoto i survived the trip back home until 8p.

model homes is not very far from lanang so we were there in a jiffy. judging from the look of things, this is going to be an easy night. one bottle of red horse grande, one bottle of red wine for the ladies. some chips, lots of stories, calendar presents from two of my best buddies. no sweat.

so i thought.

the time came for everyone to come together and open this beatifully wrapped bahalina bottle-present from rhia-hand carried by kitoy. hmmm, interesting how it smelled. it smells like sweet vinegar.

when we were young, omar, janet and i used to fancy dipping our fried galunggong into natural cane vinegar from pangasinan with a dash of sugar. it makes the oh so ordinary galunggong more interesting like what mang tomas does to other dishes. this is not to say i fancy that brown liver sauce.

fast forward to monday evening at rubs.

one shot of the elixir and i tasted its treachery masked by the sweet, cold sensations that i feel in my mouth. it would not be long now when my head will spin, my eyes will get chebekoy and my tongue will twirl and make slurred sounds that can still be discerned (thank god) as speech.

but i was not about to give up this beautiful drink swirling in my glass for that drunken state later.

after finishing the bottle, some 3 shots for me and yani, small wine glasses for ava and tatit and churchill mixing it with red horse, i just about got what i expected. that happy, sleepy feeling of being drunk.

but not wasted

at all.

the right time to eat chocolate covered durian

2007-01-19T10:07:00.001+08:00

we were texting last night. i can almost hear her scream at me, "why didn't you tell me that you're in manila?"

i said "i wanted to spend more time with ila." which was true. but if someone kaladkads me, i would not have choice but to be kaladkaded. hehehe.

anyways, we agreed to meet up in starbucks in tomas morato. it was around 11:00p when i got there. still a whole lotta people. i wondered where do they get the money to spend for coffee worth more than a hundred? i remembered how i enjoyed the kabacan - pikit brew at php5 per 1/4 kilo. i went outside and waited for her.

she is a good friend, and we always make it a point to see each other, whenever she comes around in davao.

when she arrived, she was carrying this green box and dutifully handed it to me. it is a box of Vesso Durian Chocolate! i love durian! and i love chocolate, what other combination could be better than that. i was feeling all giddy and happy for my gift, wearing it like a prize.

when our time came to order, mira, the starbucks lady saw my box and i saw the way she looked lustfully at the box. i asked her if she's from davao? she said no. then why would she be interested in durian? she answered, "hindi pa kasi ako nakakatikim nyan e, are you going to share it?" eyes fluttering. "meron nyan sa sm, bili ka na lang..."

sure she's interesting, but i would wait for sunday, when the whole family is gathered before i open this. though, i would be dreaming of the sensation of eating it now every night till sunday, it would have to wait to be shared to people that matter.

it would have been great to open up the package right there and then and enjoy it with the guatamela brew that i ordered (with risreto shot). i would have gained some pogi points with mira for a few yumful delights. but i think, i'd rather have it when we are all gathered. all nine or ten of us, including of course my favorite pamangkin - ila. we would be so noisy, and i can see the excitement brew in our eyes as we wait for the box to be finally opened by either dad or mom.

while there might not be enough for 2nd or 3rd servings, at least the thought of sharing something good with persons you feel really attached with and love the most is far more comforting than sharing something with a stranger.

"may eq ka pa ba, to keep that till sunday?" she quipped.

opkors!

new year

2007-01-09T22:59:00.001+08:00

new --

is such an amazing word. i googled it and came up with almost 3,150,000,000 hits! meaning to say the word must've popped in more than 3m web pages. more so during these days, what, with the beginning/ushering of 2007.

i wrote something at the start of last year about how i see the new year enfold. it was a bold acclamation of what i think would be happening. if i were a fortune teller, and make a living out of it, i can pretty much say that my batting average was pretty decent.

but i wasn't. i was this adventurous young man, out to conquer the world. with itchy feet and a nothing much on my bag except my trusty water bottle, 2006 was a venture in known waters. i mean i have been in assisi then 2nd year in a row. been in mindanao 4 years. and should i say that i am quite comfortable with what i was doing.

but all that changed, seems like in a moment in 2007. now, i am with a new job, new frameworks for development, new things to do, new people to get in touch with, new way of doing things, new areas at that.

and contrary to last year, this year, it seems i cannot say what would be in '07. nothing seems sure. uncertainties taint every step of the way.

but that is not to say that 2007 is frightful. the most part of that uncertainty is the thrill of new discoveries about me. a good friend whose nose knows told me that it is evolution. am 30 after all. and that age opens a lot of doors, windows, avenues and what have you. it could be nerve racking, full of baby steps alond the way, but am sure i can squeeze in a whole lotta fun along the way.

and there you go. like watching the new year night on the last night of 2006 and the esplanade sky last sunday at the esplanade pyrolympics, i wait for the next big explosion that would make me wow!

happy new year.

home-less

2007-01-05T15:32:00.001+08:00

mila is a young girl i met one time i went to my parent's house. she seems to be on the annoying side of being a child. you know, trying to attract our attention by closing the gate and eating a piece of candy with her fingers. and as if that is not enough, she would reach out and touch the ends of my fingers with the same fingers.

it was easy asking for her name.

the difficult part was getting into her, when i asked her where does she live. she just shrugged off and reached out her still wet fingers and asked for a peso. and lyan then briefed me and told me that she does not have a place to stay. she sleeps with her dad in front of our house at night.

during the daytime, she goes around with her dad. either begging for food or trying to make of what is left of her childhood.

which makes me sad.

here they are trying to cram themselves into the manila that they know. but they are sleeping it off with just a page of newspaper on their backs against the cold concrete in someone else's front house, not knowing where or what would their next meal be. all that is sure is the uncertainty of life. it is an annoying thought, a kind of a persistent tickle on the roof of your mouth.

at this point, i do not know whom to blame. should it be the government? should be mila and her father? should it be mommy and daddy? when i ran out of options, i realized that it is not persons nor institutions are to be blamed for them being homeless.

rather it is the attitude of people towards them that makes the difference. the indifference of everyone, including themselves, to their plight make the problem all the more insolvable. it has become a systemic problem that would take more than my parents, more than the homeless themselves, and more than the government.

sure my mom can always call the barangay tanod to drive them off every time they sleep around. but the next day, they would still be there. sure, we can always ask them to leave quietly, practice diplomacy and all that bs. but where would they go. they would just be the problem of some other front house. sure, we can ask the government to build more houses and all that funky slogans by tibaks on the issue. but where would we get the money.

i felt helpless.

but i looked mila in the eye, when we were talking. told her my piece of mind and joked with her a bit. and maybe that is better than all the far reaching solutions that any development worker can fathom for that moment. maybe, it is not they are asking me or my parents to solve their problems. perhaps they just need a place to stay for the night, as they try to sort their lives out.

breaking that indifference made me realize that there is more to the problem than what we can do. the first step is really being with the people in their plight. and from there on, solutions can be discerned and maybe they can be lead out of their situations.

but until then, i would just have to realize that the best thing i can do is to be frustrated with them. against the system, against the enormity of the problem. and wait until someone can help the likes of mila and her dad, and the likes of my parents and the government to come together and find directions and solutions.

it could be frustrating to wait, for the time might not come. but as one t-shirt blatantly displays: it is better to be frustrated than to be indifferent.

the north wind has blown

2007-01-02T16:16:00.000+08:00

i have moved homes.

i am now at http://zildjan.multiply.com/

see you around.

pagud na at upod ang aking sapatos

2007-01-02T16:11:00.001+08:00

even before i came to manila, i was already telling nin that the lakwatsa bug has bitten once again. i wanted to take a long drive, the farther the better. and so when we saw each other i was already winking at her and telling and telling her that we need to go. so after easy planning, thanks to virtual tourist, we (nin, rhia and me) were off to pagudpud.

i just made sure that we have a place to stay, some places where we can go to and the bus ticket. and we had one of the best vacation ever.

its funny how pagudpud came to be known as such. one of the local legends tells of a batangueño who hiked from, where else, batangas to the ends of northern luzon selling his wares. and when he came around to the sleepy town, the townsfolk asked him how he was. not really knowing what to answer he answered: pagud na at upod ang aking sapatos.

the locals laughed at the new language. and they came to call their place pagud upod as a contortion to the reply of that batangueño. later it was further contorted to pagudpud.

its funny in my mind to end the year with visiting pagudpud. while the batangueño seems to be saying that he is tired of travelling; i, on my part has just been bitten again.

and it might just continue to bite my ass in 2007. the prospects are endless, zamboanga, cagayan de oro and cotabato. god must have head the beatings of my heart, and the yearnings of my foot. i want to travel.

and so i welcome the next year with good memories of pagudpud and look forward to more mileage.

at the end, let me share one of my most favorite text quotes, which goes:

"like falling in love, travel throws us into a state of delight, uncertainty and self-discovery. like lovers, traveloers both give and take. travelers, like lovers, go naked into the world."

check out my travelogue of pagudpud at: http://members.virtualtourist.com/m/d2ca5/152e6e/

93-16987

2006-12-14T13:30:00.000+08:00

the mid year and year end reports are the two main reasons why i go to manila. i view it as a necessary evil, a thorn on the side of being employed. but somehow, no matter how i rant and get angered by this, a strange hint of simple enjoyments pervades this otherwise, seemingly sad (because i am away from home) situation.

one such glimmer happened last night. we wanted to watch noel at conspiracy, but the time between end of office and the end of happy hour, which should also be the time that noel starts his gig, seems to be in two opposite sides of a ballpen. with the butt of the pen as the flat and utteringly ugly part of the pen and the point signifying the time that the day picks up.

i was wondering how i can shorten that distance. then the idea to visit UP came around. why not?

so there we were, sitting at the edge of sunken, glaring into the facade of the main libe that stood as an edifice in the mystery of what the night holds for us. ba, with the imagined sounds that the spirit of business makes stands well lighted guards our backs. i was munching on the last few pieces of the greasy liempo that i had as an addition to the shawarma for dinner, i realized that i have not sat at this exact same spot for the longest time already. i could not even remember when was the last time.

and the air of nostalgia reached my nostrils. it blew a light touch of lemon that made the liempo taste so much better. and i realized that it has already been almost 10 years since i left this academic institution. i may have sat like this during my undergrad years, but never would have thought that i would be in this position around 10 years thereafter.

then i remember, where my ideals have started from. i remember how it was born out of ed's, marlboro lights and gin bulag. i remember the nights and midnights at lbh. i remember the long walks around the academic oval, with myself or with a buddy. i remember how i used to feel about serving the people about being one with them in their struggle.

and so it is. 10 years thereafter, i think i've moved closer to that dream. albeit an insy winsy step that is made more heavy with my passion for a good time and self interest, at least i have come to turn myself into that direction that i wanted to be headed for.

i ditched the last of my ciggy, and went with the gang. its now time for noel, its almost 9:00pm. i leave my dreamworld and face the canvass of this reality that i choose to believe in. asking myself, 10 years after, or a year from now, what would i be thinking.

well, i guess that is for me to find out.

brownie afternoons

2006-10-16T11:35:00.000+08:00

i have to postpone my entry on trekearth.com to write about something that i am really passionate about. aside from photography, travel and sleep, my passion also lingers on food.

i ate lunch today at mandarin. joy and i were the only assisi-ians in the office. all of them seems to be so busy, doing stuff. joy went ahead to buy lunch, leaving me to fend for myself. so i made my way to ncc mall and found myself ordering my favoritest meal - beef wanton noodles. i have it most of the time. i only have scallops rice toppings or tausi spare ribs rice toppings in times i crave for variety.

it was a so-so lunch. but i wanted it to be a celebration in itself. so i let my feet direct me to a good dessert place. i thought i would have fudge brownies from jollibee but i steered towards red ribbon and asked if they've brownies. they don't.

instead they pointed me to this local stall, fudge factory. hmm the name sounds promising. and it was all good! the brownies were glorious. it was good to the last bite. it has a soft texture that mixes well inside the mouth. letting me dream my illusions with sweetness of a thousand kisses. i closed my eyes everytime i took a bite, savoring the moment of having a treat for dessert.

in one of those moments, i remembered december afternoons, when mom, omar, janet, melo and i would be measuring and sifting flour with sugar. choosing good peanuts, melting chocolates, and mixing the ingredients in a baking bowl. my mom introduced baking even without the oven to her brood. we had a turbo broiler that seemed ok for brownies so we were contented.

when mom announced that there would be brownies, all of us took heed and got ready. washed our hands and take out the ingredients and the recipe from the recipe box. when all the preparations were done. we would quietly watch the brownie cook from the glass turbo broiler. waiting in anticipation for another treat that we made for ourselves.

aha, that's why i so love brownies.

paraskevidekatriaphobia

2006-10-13T15:55:00.000+08:00

luck is how you look at it. i have never been particularly unlucky. but i think i am particularly lucky. this is something that i have been thankful for all my life. for luck to be always at my side, constantly cheering me on to continue the play with life.

i think i have been lucky most of my life. with my family, with my decisions and with the life i am leading. though life is not that good all the time. most of the time, things still bring me down, or i am stressed or burned out. but see, i cannot seem to see me unlucky on those occassions. maybe its in the way i see things. that even those stuff that can be considered unlucky are the not as "bring me downers" as they are to other people when looked in my point of view. in my book there is such a thing as lucky, but its opposite is not unlucky. it is like lucky manzano, a matter of fact.

this entry sounds that it still needs a lot of work. oh, how i wish i can write philosophically too. like murakami. someday.

what's the frequency kenneth?

2006-10-04T20:28:00.000+08:00

kenneth, the mustached host of the amateur singing contest held every sunday in bonifacio park took a deep breath before taking the mike. he made sure that his smile is in place and tried to internalize his star role for tonight.

there was a brief rain before it turned dark, as people were milling out of san pedro church from the last mass of the day. he grunted with his crew as they readied the musical instruments and the speakers that would be used for tonight's big event. in all the years he has faced the sunday crowd, he has always found the rain a big disappointment. rain spells, less attendance, more empty spaces and no one to see his antics, majority of which he either renews from previous performances or come up with something new week in and week out.

he was glad when people, mostly men start to make their way towards the front of the stage. it wouldn't be a lonely night after all. the buzz started to mount into a soft blanket of noise that permeated the readying to sleep san pedro. the plates in make shift carenderias sing with the fork and spoon as patrons were happily welcomed back. there was some feedback when the bass amplifier was turned on, illiciting a snicker and an applause from the crowd, here for their weekly dose of entertainment.

kenneth read along the number of performances for tonight. he counted less than the fingers of his hand. he remembered and contestants used to flock to his show a few years back. he bathed in the warm glow of appreciation and awe from his audience. he knows how to strut his stuff and before long can recognize the regulars.

as the years wore on, so did the people came less and less. his creativity is often pushed to the limit, observing and watching the likes of classics to the new comers. from tito, vic and joey, to willie revillame, boy abunda, richard gomez and butch francisco to lucky manzano and toni gonzaga. he made it an effort to stay ahead of his game. people can get tired and might not come back if you do the same joke two weeks in a row.

half way through the performers, his legs up to his waist begin to hurt. it must be tough getting old. but there is no room to show his pain. he must be funny, top of his form and in tip top control of the situation. he cannot even just a sign of pain escape his eyes. for he knows, the people are watching his every move.

after some more sordid performances from davao's dreamers, he ended the night with more jokes. he announced the winners and made it seem that they have won such a big deal. he waved goodbye to the audience and asked them to come back next sunday, same time, same place.

he actually wished very hard for them to come back. as he pocketed his keep for the night from the organizer of the show, he took another deep breath to loosen up. instantly, his shoulders drooped, his hands automatically massaged his hips and suddenly he felt hungry.

but that would have to wait, for he must take his wife and two kids home. a drizzle is brewing and their make-shift kart might not be able to bring them home safe and dry.

fragile peace

2006-09-28T15:46:00.001+08:00

about two weeks ago, a man together with his friends were fishing in the small kakal creek in buliok.

one youth, approached him and they talked about small things. they parted with:

youth: sinong kasama mo dyan?
man: mga kasama ko mga bente kami nandun sa kabilang dulo...

a moment later, the young man shot the elder one at the back. died on the spot.

the youth escaped immediately.

the aggrieved party gave the young man seven days to surrender. otherwise, they would shoot the first of his kind in sight. as retribution.

this is a serious matter and puts into a real test, the sanctuaries for peace in carmen. sanctuaries for peace are communities that have resolved to grasp peace and to hold it gently in their communities. they practice tolerance among cultures and they put in place a peace keeping council to oversee the peace building efforts in their communities. most importantly, the leaders have decided to work hand in hand among themselves and among their neighbors for them to settle more permanently in their land that were ravaged by the war in 2001 and 2003.

since 2001, all is well. there were few problems but were quickly resolved by the peace council. that is until the said incident.

on the seventh day, i spoke with a leader from the other party. he told me that ammicable settlement was reached. the suspect would not get out into the open, but they agreed to pay php60k, php10k as downpayment.

my first reaction was one of disbelief. a life for php60k! wow. and it is going to be paid in installment, double wow....

both leaders agreed. my heart and mind are screaming! no fair. my co-worker argued, that settlement is better than no settlement at all. most crimes, especially in this part of the country, go unsettled. at least this time, said he, leaders are talking and there is justice... or some disfigured form of it.

somehow i do not agree.

i would have to say that i am not satisfied with how people are treating the issue. but the past few busyhectic days proved fatal as i put the issue to sleep. at least for the time being.

but talking to jopuz today made me realize that there is no putting the issue to rest. there must be a way, a creative way to treat this issue. definitely more than just accepting the ammicable settlement, but never getting near the part on violent means.

i told him to start thinking of ways to let his young members come together and talk about the issue. the threat (to communities, and to the general peace and order situation in the area) is definitely there, but it should not be feared. it should be faced and discussed openly. the intention, however, is not to arouse more hate, rather to open doors of understanding, within their sanctuary and the other community and the party that has aggrieved them.

the idea is not to stop with that for it is not enough to secure the lessons and imprint it into the minds of young people. the direction is to continue working together, both communities that is so that this sort of thing never happens again. the intent is to heal without covering up the hate and the failures of the system. the hope is that people would still believe that peace and justice and love can still overcome the failures of human systems.

i do not know if jopuz sees it the way i do. i would definitely move with them, if at least one soul believes.

for now, i pray that the peace that their mothers and fathers have worked hard for could sustain and carry the people through their grief.

i would have thought it to be sunset

2006-09-21T17:36:00.000+08:00

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits.
Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle.
Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it.
You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What Time Of Day Are You?

this is our way

2006-09-21T10:54:00.000+08:00

home stretch for peacetech 3!

after the flurry of activities and "have to do's" in september, i know i need to stop a while and reaffirm my treasure. my guts are crimping, and my lips wants to suck on a ciggy. in a thought, what keeps me going?

i was copying cds of the peacetech theme song early (as in early) this morning. this is our way. it sounds so much like a wyd '95-jubilee song rendition. maybe it was because it was done by the same artist.

anyways.

i am too freakin' busy with the small stuff of arranging lodging, jeepneys, doing trainings and giving trainings. most of the time, i can't seem to see where all of these would be heading. you know about the proverbial question? it sounds exactly like that?

then it struck me this morning. this is our way. this is my way for peace to begin.

i mean its nothing much to what other big people are doing. but i believe in the small things that can start big movements. like it went in the song:

and the mississippi's mighty

but it starts in minnesota
at a place that you could walk across
with five steps down
and i guess that's how you started
like a pinprick to my heart
but at this point you rush right through me
and i start to drown

sparing the mush, i think there is really something to what i am doing. of what it could be, god only knows.

till then, i dance to the beat of the song and mumble softly in my mind.

white books on the shelf

2006-09-20T22:20:00.000+08:00

his books are white.

three titles standing in the shelves of national bookstore in the last week of the sale. when i saw them, i felt a strange attraction to it. i must try and reading his work.

haruki murakami and i met in powerbooks sometime in december last year. i was waiting for a good friend in powerbooks in makati. so there i was, pouring over the titles and the authors in the store. but something about norwegian wood asked me to stop by and see of his other works. i did not carry enough cash then, so i said that i would be back.

i was not able to come back though.

so when i saw dance, dance, dance, a wild sheep chase and a wind up bird chronicle, i told ava and myself: it is now or never.

i grabbed a copy of dance, dance, dance.

finished it in a week.

the day before the national sale ended, i found out two things:

(1) national in sm davao carries only one copy of each of the three titles. so, got a wild sheep chase, the last would have to wait; and
(2) i have a new favorite writer.

maybe its the main character of the two books that captivates me. he (is nameless) nears thirty at the chase book and is 34 in the dance one. but the connection is deeper than that.

the themes are even inter-connected without the feeling of murakami doing a hard sell (i.e. forcing it on the readers). he does not do references and all that. i (and probably all readers) was surprised how similar events were used in both books without making you feel at a loss of perspective and of details.

his two books are magical and conveys the workings of the mind of a modern man. surrealist, modernist, call it what you may.

maybe that is why i ride his groove.

of weddings and the peace agreement

2006-09-13T17:43:00.000+08:00

she she tied the knot last friday. had a chance to talk and kid with the guy. i blurted my often used line:

"pare akin na ang susi sa kotse mo. full tank ko na. paandarin ko na. anytime magbago isip mo, senyasan mo lang ako, sibat tayo. no questions asked. di na tayo makikita dito."

i used the same line with omar, with similar results. she she calmly said.

pare, eto ang kailangan kong gawin. at masaya na ko dito.

the last sentence was a new addition from the first one, that we have often heard. after the ceremony, i can see how happy he and myra are. weddings have a way of making people happy. it even has a way of infecting the people with happiness attending the wedding. thanks to red wine of course.

but as fr. millar was officiating the wedding rites, a thought came into my mind.

i whispered to my co-abay, monsalas.

pare, ang wedding pala ay parang grp-milf peace agreement.

all the hardwork comes after all have been signed.

movie weekend

2006-09-11T10:36:00.000+08:00

movies have a way of calming me down, at the same time, it has a way of opening up my thoughts on life. how it is, and how it should be.

i've had a good dosage of two movies this weekend, that i think somehow would help me make it through the week.

1. RENT - finally it has shown in davao. and finally, i have watched the musical (albeit in movie format) that have long since been a favorite of mine. i was singing softly to ava's ear, for fear of disturbing the other 6 or eight people inside the gaisano mall, last full show. it was nice, i really love the way it has been done. no day but today!

2. SARUNG BANGGI - art films top my list of favorite movies. this one is another line that would be added to my growing list. it is nice, well made and lets me think. i like the way, it has provoked my mind into thinking of the possibilities that can exist in one night. lahat ng tao ay may kwento. ikaw, ano ang kwento mo?

lemme hear some of that bizrock!

2006-09-06T09:49:00.000+08:00

cebu was great!

primarily it was a weekend when we met our friends in cebu. satisfying grasa's thirst for a jvp reunion, meeting up with ross in minglanilla, going around town with jayneil, george and dana and borge. gimiks with diser in THE barbeque place in cebu, chilling in the rooftop of this real cool place near marco polo cebu (its not yet officially open, but they're already serving beer -- yeah!).

then it was catching up on lost sleep.

and of course, a night out with reggae revolution in kuskus cafe, gorordo avenue. jayneil's warnings, that kuskus is a haven for prostitutes did not prevent the souls of the vacationeers to make their way to the bar. at around 10pm, the place was packed already with boys and girls in dreadlocks. smelly as they are, 2 bottles of beer helped overcome the smell of unwashed hair and sweaty bodies.

the music seems to have a life of its own, that infused everyone. people were dancing in their own silly steps, with eyes closed. some were audacious and wild as they kept in step with ska, others, well like us, were mildly moving and swaying to the more preferred rasta beats of covers from bob marley and other reggaton artists. there were also originals, bizrocks that the budding artists performed (gitukar), much to the the crowd's delight.

reggae has a soothing effect on me. and hearing it from one of our own, makes it all the more endearing. i remember popong in mts, blend it with the young breed of musicians in that small venue, i hope this movement will continue and reach the shores of davao and the hearts of davaoeños.

ruby thursday sent me two bisrock samples already, thanks mehn. "this is pretty good!" i said to myself as i listened to both tracks, in the same way i said to ava when we were at kuskus.

the merrymaking of that saturday night in cebu was cut short around 2a when we had to make our way back to la florentina. damn, we have an early morning flight back home. but not so damned because we know we never missed a bit at that time, rocking with bisdaks.

duaw

2006-08-24T11:43:00.000+08:00

it seems very difficult to talk about kadayawan. apart from being "the" favorite fesival of the gang, and the festival of festivals (as the tag-line in the tarps say), i never can really say much about it.

probably it is all about the experience. but here is a shot of phrases, words that would help me remember kadayawan 2006.

ninin, mike, ina, shiva
marco polo/roadway inn fiasco
ninong sa kasal
penong's
indak - indak - relax lang dude
updharmadown, in the background
tequila
chemas
mr. guerrero
shopping (for fruits) in the rain
eskapo!
banana choco chip muffin
jollibee is a 24 hour fastfood resto
ava

see you next year!

artist

2006-08-17T09:57:00.000+08:00

is there another way?

dot and che and i were having red horse two nights ago in a carenderia in kabacan. we were talking about, well, drunken stuff - from photography to discernment (imagine the full spectrum of topics a bottle of beer can give you).

before we called it a night, we were fathoming the depths and meaning of the artist without a medium. well, there's the usual artist who is very much into the art, she finds expression in her drawings, his colors, her sound, his drums, her poetry, his prose, his clay and in her metal, even in her thoughts and in his angst. these artists are the main stream ones. you know that they are artists by what they do.

but what about those who can't even draw a nice square, can't even combine colors properly, can't even sing/play the guitar in time, has to look at the mouth of the one singing in order to hit the note (believe me the last one is possible)?

kinda frustrating if the definition of an artist lies only in his craft. but we think, an artist is an artist because of the interiority of the soul. and this interiority finds expression in more than conventional means. it could be the infusion of the creative into the daily things that we do. case in point, i may be a business ad person but my artistry is in my photography, in my technical writing, in the way i think of how i can share with the lives of young people in our areas. and probably in the way i love (shit, just have to put that in.)

the bottomline of the artist is to be able to ask the question: is there another way? another way to write a boring report to funders, another way to drink beer (?), another way to write about life, another way to live life, another way to risk, another way to believe in, another way to attain peace.

and it is this "another way" thinking that sets the real artist apart, beyond definitions, beyond explanations. mike and ninin and i were right when we say, "artist ako, di ko kailangang mag-explain."

we raised our glasses as we drained the last drips of rh from our glasses. our eyes were glazy, maybe from the alcohol, but more from the affirmation that we are artists in our own way.

kampai!

of risks and chances

2006-08-14T17:12:00.000+08:00

kadayawan remains to be my favorite festival of all time. i mean, it is not perfect, but therein lies its beauty, its charism that has made this boy fall in love with davao.

last night, i fell in love again. went to magsaysay park to see the sights of a local carnival. there were the usual mango shakes, a booth of coke, henna tatoos, slippers for sale, color game (i.e. color gamble) and of course the ubiquitous rides (ferries wheel, horror caravan and mad mouse, my favorite last night).

mad mouse is a roller coaster in common parlance. have always been amazed of roller coasters, from those super hi tech in theme parks abroad (how i wish i could have a chance, but then again the desire to go around the world is not there. but that is another entry) to the pretty ok stuff in ek - space shuttle and those blue-shoe-like coasters. i guess the fascination comes from the energy transformation from potential to kinetic to potential. amazing isn't it?

plus there is the feeling of trust in the rails, on the coaster and those who put their name on the line.

that putting your name on the line thing was challenged last night. we looked suspiciously at the mad mouse. and boy, was it really mad. i observed how the rickety-looking tracks move to every jerk the coaster makes every time it turns a corner. i looked at how the passengers would somehow dislocate a neck bone and immediately get them back in place as it pass those corners. i heard the rusty wheels bounce with the ups and downs of the ride, looking like they were off to jump off anytime.

oh shit.

i should try this. bought two tickets and held her hand. hah, i just couldn't do this alone. sat on the coaster, smelled a faint blush of beer from the care taker of the coaster and got ready for the ride.

oh shit.

is all i can say everytime our coaster made its head jerking turn.

oh shit

is all i can mutter everytime i imagine the tracks and the wheels hugging it.

oh shit.

and before i knew it, its done. my hearts a beating faster than normal, knees buckling a bit. but a smile painted, written all over.

oh shit.

view from the end of my finger

2006-08-12T12:26:00.000+08:00

attended a bangsamoro youth consultation in one of my weekends in cotabato. as in most consutations, there was a lot of talk. a lot of positions and thoughts were shared to the less than 40 participants in foggy mornings, rainy afternoons and cold nights.

i participated with an observer status, having persuaded a good friend to get some seats in the consultation. thus, i promised myself that i would be listening and hearing what young moros have to say.

alas, nothing was quite new from what these brillant young moros are saying from the leaders that i have heard speak before. their ardent desire for self determination and self governance has always been in the forefront of their agenda.

however, towards the end of the consultation, the theme of the event: conversations, cooperation and collaboration, kept on singing a very familiar tone. it is hard to keep quiet when your heart is beating fast, your mind is racing to get some thoughts together forming into letters, syllables, words and finally an idea.

thus, i had to speak my playful mind. perhaps not written verbatim. but the heart of the matter is:

i just had to say -

the problems that the bangsamoro youth are similar to what young non-moros are experiencing. worse problems are being faced by young lumads. it is a pity, that in these problems the commonality of the mindanao youth is surfaced. it comes as a stumbling block to a bright future ahead. and yet the same problems present an opportunity to work together, come together, cooperate and collaborate.

maybe this consultation can help us, work with our commonalities, and triumph in our coming together. maybe, there is a way we can solve our problems. together or separately, it does not matter as long as we do. maybe, the future is not as bleak and as dark as our days.

maybe, just maybe.

i open the experiences of young people in our sanctuaries for peace for you brother moros. perhaps we can help you, in the same way you guys can help us.

kahulugan

2006-08-06T20:11:00.000+08:00

it has been a week since the buklod kalilintad - peacetech youth skill building workshops and videoconferencing series in usm kabacan. it was a grand activity. so many young faces, hopes for our future.

after all the reports have been submitted (well almost all...) and before i run in preparing for the next one, i pause a while and remember one of the moments in that conference.

it was a sunday afternoon. my boss was just complaining of how redundant the culture of peace seminar. it was cloudy i remember, looks like its going to rain. the synthesis on first path to peace was being given. the central question, ano ang kahulugan ng kapayapaan?

quite a daunting question.

reflected a bit, and remembered fr. soc's story on kahulugan. he said:

there is a method of planting rice in which the ground is poked with a stick and the rice seed is put into the hole - hinuhulog sa butas. kahulugan is very much like this idea. when we find those instances when we find ourselves in situations wherein we are put into our right places.

kahulugan.

finished the session with the kids. but the reflection on kahulugan continued.

i smile as i write, because somehow, if i am a rice seed, i have found a hole to bury myself into. i have felt what is it like to be held by a hand, carefully selected and lovingly placed in the embrace of the earth.

many things came into near clarity when i've found myself in my kahulugan. somehow, it made sense why i am doing what i do. somehow, i became convinced more, if i am not that convinced yet, of why am i here in this great adventure of mindanao.

i used to think that my work can sustain my stay in mindanao. somehow, i still do. and i think, it still could. however, the events of the past couple of weeks added a new ingredient in my mindanao brew.

we met near the center of the island. the opposite side of davao. i remember scratching my over-growing beard as i entered this office, in which there was supposed to be a meeting. i decided that i would be shaving as soon as i come home the next day. i went in, and there she was.

the meeting started. people i love to work with are there. but this interesting young woman is getting all my attention. she is saying things right, a gleam of brillance is peeking out of the sense that she is making. plus she smiles the sweetest smile, that makes her eyes vanish when she does.

we met again a few weeks after. there, i saw what stuff she is made of, i heard her talk about what she does. i read an article about her. as i listened to the inner stirrings of my soul, i felt that i am being drawn to this woman.

after many conversations over coffee, over text, over the phone about life, family, school, work, passions and everything in between, i became more aware of the desire to follow this call of being with someone. of being with her.

this is not new to me. i've been to many relationships and an equal number of break-ups. but what is new is the way i have somehow come prepared for this person. it was as if i was waiting for her to come into the story and introduce a new chapter altogether. and that waiting was not in vain, for there she is. an individual shares her stories of davao, her stories of strength as an ate and her stories of her dreams and passions as a woman and as mindanaon. i listened and i find myself sharing my stories as well.

i feel the stories blending everytime i stir in half a teaspoon of brown sugar into my capuccino. it tastes just right. it feels right.

the story is being written, it goes on. like the story of the seed growing in the fertile soil. it has reached up and broke the ground. and the kahulugan, the meaning became real. life.

i can't wait to go home!

mtv gen

2006-08-02T10:47:00.000+08:00

MTV is 25 years old yesterday.

although, i am not the boob tube addict as i was in manila. i still can and would still relate to its great impact, not only in my life but in the life of people all around the world.

it was in the 80s when the fascination for music videos grabbed my viewing habit. i used to come home early from school to catch music videos in rpn channel 9 then. there is also casey kasem's america's top 10 videos on sunday afternoons. its fun watching singers come alive. seeing them gives a face to their voices and to their music.

michael jackson's bad, madonna's like a virgin and vogue, tears for fears' sowing the seeds of love, van halen's jump. these were my earliest favorite videos. the fast paced videos with overacting singers/actors became the standard by which most of my classmates behaved. we were able to dance like michael jackson, and have free soft porn as madonna gyrated on tv. though we were pre-teen then, we became teen agers almost overnight. over-ager to taste the freedom of love and life. anticipating the vast world to be discovered out there.

when mtv debuted in asia in channel 23, late nights became more interesting as the best and the worst of media and advertising introduced itself to pinoys. the violent and sex-heavy cartoons made its mark in the minds of the young pinoys. for us to be called pinoys, we watch those cartoons and discuss it the next day. you are not "in" if you haven't watched the latest video of g'n'fn'r (guns and fucking roses). our epitomy of coolness is slash playing his guitar which is not even plugged into the amp. we were fools then.

then came pinoy videos. first it was the love songs, jose mari chan... augggh. then the dawn revolutionized it altogether with iisang bangka tayo. pinoy music videos, though very trying hard at that time was also a nice thing to look forward to. it makes a lot of difference to hear the likes of jet pangan then, ely buendia in the 90s and the host of pinoy bands in mtv pilipinas blaring their hearts out on tv.

25 years from that first mtv broadcast in virginia. mtv has honed this generation. it has given direction (whether it be right or wrong, i cannot say ) but it has definitely shaped the young to what we are today. fast paced, dynamic, always changing and, as mtv would have said it: "forever young!"

davao mornings

2006-07-15T08:33:00.000+08:00

i woke up, albeit groggily at 4am this morning. athan was calling me up and telling me to be ready to meet up at the office by 5am. ungodly hour and my bed is warm, not a light from outside, i promised myself 5 more minutes.

i am bringing kids from carmen to the airport. i am their yayo since yesterday, dragging them from kabacan, feeding them at the office and talking and joking around with them and listening to them make jokes about nano. nano, not eating vegetables; nano, not eating beef; nano, not drinking coffee; nano, eating only chicken and fish. and from all of these, nano, who is the ever good natured guy only makes us laugh more with his crazier hirits.

back to my waking hour. i dragged myself, brushed my teeth, washed my face, changed clothes, put on my new trainers and made my way outside. cautiously balancing from one side of the canal that pass along the side of our apartments.

the moon is still up. the day is still sleeping.

finally left the office, after chambie came at half past five. davao is waking up. passed by matina, nope, no morning rush today. no frenzied and quick feet, all primed for another workday. just the street sweeper going about her daily task of keeping the city maintain its stature as one of the most livable city in the country.

after sandawa, the sight of the davao river made me jump on my seat, hoping, imagining to catch a glimpse of the delta as it pours out into the davao gulf. i know i would not see it, but i was not disappointed for looking east. the sun is bursting its regale as we passed by the bankerohan bridge. the yellow bidlisiw swallowing the white clouds of the morning.

the airport is still the airport.

heading back to town, passing by the diversion road, apo allows a majestic peek from our city. talomo, while standing guard looks like a sentry with crossed arms, bathing in the warm morning sun. a smile made its way across my unshaven face. it was as if saying: i'd gladly wake up tomorrow, no matter how early again, just for a glimpse of this.

i feel sleepy while the city slowly wakes.

adobong baki

2006-07-12T17:37:00.000+08:00

... gisahin mo sa lamas. dayon, butangan ug toyo ug suka.
murag adobo gyud.

so goes the tindera as she gave her instructions on how to cook up a feast for tonights meal. and the main course, adobong baki!

my love affair with field frogs started when i was still young. i was, probably around 7 or 8 then, in pangasinan, summer. tita babes got some from tito vi's rice fields, and announced proudly that we are going to have a delicacy for dinner. it would be monggo na may sahog na palaka!

interesting. i was there when they skinned each tiny frog, got all of its innards and removed the head and all. no wonder biology class came easy.

since then, i have been on the look out for opportunities to get to eat it again. my time in mindanao gave me the most chances to get to taste it again. from pamulaan's sahakeen, to kabacan market's random showings. i must say, i am now looking forward for dinner.

when they said that it tastes like chicken, they weren't joking. but anything that cannot be described in the terms of the layman, is described as such. here is my shot:

it looks close to a dismembered balut chick. but only this time the limbs are longer. the flesh is white and the smell is fragrant. it mixes well with the aroma of garlic, onions and ginger. after i loose some more inhibitions, i bring it close to my mouth. anticipation sets in and i take a bite. i begin to bite, but not thoroughly, avoiding the bones that are being separated from the flesh.

then i open my eyes and say: nye para din namang manok!

for a lack of a better term.

this writing has made me hungry.

on fire trees

2006-06-21T15:13:00.000+08:00

doggy fart gladdens my heart.

so goes aunt benedicte (a very long engagement) as she quivers and smiles all over when she hears her dog fart. it was a difficult time for her i guess, as her nephew mathilde searches for her fiance manech at a time of war.

i have never been to war, i would have to hear a dog fart, and still would have to see if would indeed gladden my heart. but somehow these times have been occassions of gladness for me. i have pretty much remained and have become comfortable with melancholy for quite a long time now.

reviewing my mp3 songlists, you have: comfortable (john mayer), a few songs by james blunt here and there and a whole lot of jewel, alanis and indigo girls strewn all around. i would have to say, i've come to enjoy being sad. most of the time, it has been a solace to be feeling under the weather. even if my brave smile is flashed to everyone, my one little secret is to feel otherwise inside.

these days, however, there are more reasons to smile. not only from that wide grin on my face, but from deep within. it must've been the fire trees that stretch on the national highway in sta. cruz that have verified that i am happier now. probably, the merriest i've been in the past few years.

see, i've come to be introduced to fire trees in sagada, april 1998. it was my first out of town trip from manila. i was still quite young then, and my lust for adventure has not yet been unleashed before that sagada trip. when, i packed my bag, took a 14 hour trip from manila, i knew then that travelling as far as my feet can take me would be my greatesrt adventure.

though it was summer then, the cold weather in sagada might have caused the fire trees to flower. it was a marvelous sight with the backdrop of lush mountains teeming with the breath of cool air in that wonderful place i've come to love so well.

it has been everywhere in that little commune, that i have come to identify happiness with the blooming of fire trees. happiness, gladness, enjoyment, even to the extent of blissful existence. for every fire tree that blooms, i would remember sagada and my initiation to adventure. i promised myself to always smile and look forward to more travels and more roads to traverse, and more summits to conquer, and more companions along the road, when i see the blooming of fire trees.

since that fateful, holy week, i have kept my word to always break into a genuine smile whenever i see fire trees. though in the last 3 years or so, fire trees seem to have lessen their appeal. less, but still happy to have them around.

zoom back to last saturday, on the road home, passing by santa cruz.

when i saw the red crowns atop magnificent trees, i genuinely remembered the first smile i've had in sagada. its the happiness that is not chased but has arrived. it is something that did not come from something but perhaps from someone. it feels so authentic that it doesn't take much of an effort to be happy. no need for the beach, no need for flirting with someone, and definitely no need for booze!

its that feeling that calms down my over eager senses. it invites me to stay a while and listen to a faint music that must've lost its beat so long ago. it is the feeling of a hand to hold, a face to study, the scent of a woman and good company that somehow makes it real and stays on with me until the next time i see her.

i would have said, a few years ago that all happiness in davao came with a price. the price of leaving home, leaving someone and being left to my own devices somehow drives me to accept this dictum.

however, the fire trees in sagada reminds me that happiness is free. just being there and letting its beauty encompass and embrace my soul is reason enough to be one. there is no need to be extraordinary and great to get to that light feeling. maybe it is just appreciating what has been given and bath into the blessing of the moment. i learned that in sagada. and somehow, i've relearned it again in mindanao.i can't wait for this friday when i would be passing by fire trees country again. all the more reason to come home.

i should now change my playlist.

thoughts on independence

2006-06-13T18:08:00.000+08:00

june 12 came and went without so much of a hoopla in my so called life. late last night, as i was making my way home, i was asking myself why there were philippine flags displayed in the restaurants that line san pedro street. then it hit me, it was the day of the philippine independence.

i had to check my indifference and dig deep into my thoughts. we were supposed to be a free nation. a people that can be proud of their country. but i know that you know we can always say the negative to those previous statements. we are not free and most of us are not proud of our country.

that is a sad thought.

but i know, that i am free. free to choose what i want and free to be governed by a higher respectable authority. i can still be proud of some filipinos, and the beauty of the nation. but the nation in general, hmmm let me try putting it milder.

...

i can't.

as a nation we are not free and we are not proud of who we are. the glory of the sea games, pacquiao and all those filipinos who made it good outside the country are overshadowed daily by those people in government. why are we so goddamned good outside? and looking inside, we can't even do our laundry?

but individually, as i said: i am free and i can be proud, albeit selectively.

there seems to be a problem with that. as in many filipinos' mind. individually we are ok, but as a nation, well, we don't want to think about that anymore.

aha, and so there is the problem. we don't want to think about our country. i have been contented with the good things that are happening to us. that we have shied away in talking and ACTING on issues concerning our own back yard. i have been so insulted by gma, raul gonzales, even the opposition, that i have chosen to be apathetic.

hey i'm from BA, the bastion of apathy.

the question for me: when or how can i bridge that distance between being a good person and being a good filipino? ask with me then.

you me

2006-06-09T15:07:00.000+08:00

pronouns.

these past few days have been a flurry of sorts. when i say it is davao where my life happens, i mean it at every sense. i have been here for the past seven days, and it has been a pendulum of sorts from great to the not so great. not so great, because i've been to the hospital due to a bad case of colitis. great, because i've recently affirmed what davao means to me.

davao not only endears itself because of what it can offer. its beauty would seduce even the most hardened of all travellers. inviting them to stay, for a night, a week, forever. not also because it is a haven of freedom for me as well. i mean, i can be as free as i want to be, even in manila. but have to admit that, i have done so many new stuff in the past four years that may have equalled or surpassed the 25 years of new stuff that i've had in manila.

but maybe, i've considered davao home, is because of the relationships that i've discovered. and the past week exemplified this wonderful aspect of davao. i was never afraid, that i'd be left alone in the hospital with the needles, thermometers in the armpit, bp every hour, michelle and gigi (my nurses, who visits me every so often to change my dextrose) and all. the guys were all there to see me through. even before i came to the hospital, i felt the care that i need to make each and every step possible. i think i would not have made it without them. so thanks to everyone who came over. even those that can't but were equally as concerned in manila, thanks as well.

but most of all to you and to you. even if the cable and aircon were the major come on for you guys to stay. sure am glad to have you around and see me in my pink hospital gown, longer than everyone else.

pronouns can mean nothing if the people behind them are not named. and just before the memory of the food poisoning wears off, i really must let you guys know how lucky am i to be at home with you in davao.

even if male pride gets in the way.

gitil-asan ko jud

2006-06-02T16:38:00.000+08:00

i will forever remember makilala.

packing up the silhouette artworks of the participants in the young advocates for peace camp, i suddenly felt the need to scratch an itchy part of my back. then it felt like a thousand, no a million other knicks are digging their ugly little teeth in that particular spot.

i was short of rolling on the floor. i wish i was laughing, but for the love of me i was in anguish. it was not painful, nor it felt hot. but it was a feeling of being run down by a certain kind of itch that was magnanimous compared to a mosquito bite.

good thing people know about antropsophy and got a handful of salt and applied liberally. damn. that was when i knew that a til-as just got in my shirt, decided to creep into my shoulder and release its innocent menace.

but it was more than that itch why i will never forget makilala.

another reason would be the kids who attended the camp. they were a chop suey of mindanao. cultures and ideology and behaviours of 39 young persons converged in forming a "plan" for themselves, that is achievable in the short to long term. the presence of this fire within them somehow created an effect when some top honchos in government and in funding agencies came to witness their plans transformed into proposals.

a plan for mindanao. not grandstanding as the words coming out from the politicians. but concrete and doable plans that could and should create a ripple of effects.

if only for that, i am already glad to have helped in facilitating this event.

that

... was the professional itch, that was scratched.

however, there is a personal itch that has been left by makilala. an itch, that i may have forgotten how to scratch.

youth camp image

2006-05-25T20:24:00.000+08:00

it was raining last night. not very strong nor very weak. its like rain that you get towards the end of summer. a welcome kiss for the parched land of cotabato. and a slow goodbye to the last days of the sun and the sea.

its day two, and the last night for the YoUTH KaMP in Ranzo. the second night also we attempted to light a bonfire for a peace ritual. while it already rained in the afternoon, a sunshine break as it was about to get dark provided us enough time to chop some dry wood and pile them at the center of the field. the wood was really very dry, in spite of the soft rain minutes ago. i chipped off one small piece and lighted it with my lighter.

ahh glowing embers.

within minutes, a big part of the almost rotting mango trunk was making a sound and heat was already emanating. i looked up at the heavens, and prayed that the rain wouldn't extinguish our bonfire.

as soon as it got dark, me and all of the young people who participated in the camp had to rush back to the peace center to shelter us from soft rain as it blanketed our camp. i sat outside the peace center, and afforded a few minutes of silence. looked at the direction of the bonfire, and it was still burning!

amazing.

a bonfire burning under the rain. its like two elements comming together, marrying each other. opposites but letting each other be each other. at some point, the flames illuminated a portion of the field. am just in awe, and do not know what to make of the sight. similes and metaphors seems mute at that very moment.

i always had the idea that to extinguish fire, you just need water. and to cast the spell of coldness, you just need a bit of fire to warm you. last night, all those definitions went down with the rain. oh, if only my slr can catch drizzle of rain as it embraced the warmth of fire. if only my words can write what i felt at that exact moment....

i would, and preserve that powerful and consuming image.

it was a night of exemptions. a night of contradicting ideas and "out of the box" thoughts. and with the blessing before my eyes, i said to myself that there is just no way i can guess the work of the divine. i still carry the excitement of last night.

this morning, the rain is gone, and the supposedly bonfire is also gone, few pieces of wood littered the rim of the ashes. maybe fire and rain has cancelled each other out.

the fuss about the code

2006-05-22T16:18:00.000+08:00

upon entering the ncc cinema we were greeted by a long line of people with expectant faces. i don't know, do they hope to be swayed by the movie? what i can infer is just they just want to see what is the fuss of the catholic church about this movie. yes, the way some things were presented can be quite disturbing. but i don't think, faith is swayed by a movie.

faith is a gift. and this gift is nurtured by the person through prayer and community. thus, to believe that a movie can sway the faith is preposterous. if catholic priests and the lay would only live as real persons of god, i don't see why they should be afraid of the questions that might be posted by the faithful. we should even be glad that we are questioning our faith. that means, it is alive and dynamic and well.

the danger i think is when people close themselves of possibilities. i myself was amazed and entertained of the different frameworks that the movie (and the book) presented. i was even intrigued to read more on the subject. to find out more, to be more aware of history. if the church is my lover, i would like to know more about her. to see where she has erred, in respect to where she has been right.

why hide the mistakes of the church? i always say "kasama sa pakyaw." the church cannot and would not be perfect because it is run by imperfect persons. only with the grace of god, can an imperfect institution be able to lead the flock towards peace, hope, faith and love.

and to believe otherwise is to become like the council of shadows who "conspire" to hide the truth. the church as i know it does not strive to hide itself from the horrors it has committed. but she has still been timid to be vocal about it. i do not blame her though.

i suspect the critics and the movie producers are in connivance. the movie was so-so. but with all the hype it has generated, it has been earning big bucks. i just hope those critics are happy that their show only generated more support for the movie. (read: i hate lining up for a movie... in davao)

in the end, i would like to paraphrase what robert langdon in the movie told sophie neveu: all that matters is your belief.

3 years

2006-05-17T18:41:00.000+08:00

purchased rambutan seedlings this morning. they are quite tall at around 5 - 6 feet tall already, and quite a bargain at that, selling at php35 a seedling (we bought ten). benjamin, was the brodin who sold us the seedlings from his nursery, said that the rambutans are already 3 years in the making.

its funny how 3 years can be worth. i could say that its cheap at php35. but i can also say that 3 years is also as precious as my thoughts, angst writings, loves, beautiful places that have discovered me. usahay turned 3 this may. months in the life has been ever extending, same as the tropa (most of which are good friends) who've come to share a bit of their time.

i don't know until when i'd be writing. but as far as i'm concerned, i'd be writing till there is some thought left in me. sometimes, i itch when i cannot bring myself to a decent internet connection to write an entry. but i've realized that some entries are better left experienced. and i find consolation that i've come to experience these so called 'moments' because i look forward to writing about it later.

... even if most of them don't get to make it here. i carry them with me.

so there, three years of blog entries. i just hope i can save all of them one time, so i wouldn't loose them.

pabaon

2006-05-05T20:09:00.000+08:00

its friday. and i couldn't remember how many friday nights have i stayed back in kabacan. last year, my butt would have been itchy as if i was sitting on a centipede come friday afternoon. i would have been enjoying a beer or two at mts already.

but that was year.

this year, i feel that i wanted to stay longer in the area. why not? asks i.

there are so many stories to hear. so many stuff to experience.

just like today.

i was talking about the crisis that has permeated carmen communities. and today was no different. i was supposed to meet up with young people from motunan. it was a hot day. and i tried to arrive earlier in ranzo, because nasser, elmer, norodin, kadil and guimla have been waiting since morning. though we agreed to meet up in the afternoon, they were quite excited so they came earlier (much, much, much).

i arrived at 12:30noon. i excused myself from katanayanan just before they prepared for lunch. i knew there was none. and i knew that there wouldn't be neither in ranzo.

when i saw the kids, my hunger panged even more painful. they haven't had lunch yet, neither have i. but that was where the similarity ended, for they haven't had their breakfasts, while me, at least i've had bangus paksiw at buntis' place.

i bought some bread for us. i felt it a sin to find a house where we can be invited. but lunch is as scarce as the harvests of corn in a drought like this.

at around 4.40pm, i was quiet. for i am already very hungry. finished the water from the orange starbucks water bottle that janet gave me for my birthday. i had to contend with this first, while waiting for brod toto to finish his meeting.

finally, before the sun went on its quick decent, we were able to get a trike to bring us back to carmen. as we made our way out of ranzo, i noticed heavy drops of rain splashing on the windsheild. not long after that, rain was finding its way into the small tricyle driven by a fat man. my pants was getting wet, but at least my shirt isn't.

almost at carmen, when the small tricycle driven by a fat man suddenly came to a halt, the sparkplug has been affected by the wet mud. the rain has not abated. i noticed that the road was turning into a river. this is quite a downfall.

the fat man driving the small tricycle hailed the log truck driving after us, for us to hitch a ride to carmen. this is going to be wet. so i took out my red ponchos and put them on, secured my cellphone and shades inside my bag, and went out into the rain.

i have always loved the rain. and with the knowledge that my stuff inside my bag would not get wet this time. i relished the droplets trickling down my face. sitting on some gemelina logs, my pants were being drenched. i felt cold, but warm inside. this is another story that would be one for the books.

as the truck turned left, we asked the driver to let us down. for now we have to walk to the highway. the rain still pounding, i can't help but break into a smile. at least the ground got wet today. at least hope for some farmers is kept alive.

at least today, i felt like a kid again. am sure this would be a happy weekend. with or without the beach :)

guilty pleasures

2006-05-04T12:58:00.000+08:00

i shouldn't be guilty.

my last two weekends were spent entirely at the beach. twice in chema's by the sea, and once in costa marina.

the sun, the sea, the company of friends, frisbee, food and some beer.

... need i write more?

i wonder where would i be this weekend? home perhaps.

crisis

2006-04-27T10:30:00.000+08:00

it was hot yesterday. the sun was merciless. the corn fields bear witness to the sun's power. the leaves are wilting, curling at the edges, begging for a little respite of rain. the dust continued its free swirl as the habal habal i was riding made its way to ranzo.

i know that it is crisis time for the peoples in carmen. people have already started to tell their grim stories: that they would not be harvesting any this season. that as soon as the (supposed) harvest time come, people would be coming to their communities and would be pulling ropes. at the end of those ropes would be their carabaos. and if the carabaos would not be enough to pay for their debts, they would still have an amount to contend with at the next harvest.

injustice!

sad.

i do not know what could be sadder than that.

until i actually felt what they were feeling.

i was visiting a youth leader in ranzo. unintentionally, i arrived at the community at a quarter before the lunch hour. i always am uneasy to arrive at this time. but everytime, the people would always have something to offer, no matter how simple or small.

but yesterday, i noticed that the stove is not smoking. the children have contended to watch pilipinas game ka na ba. they must have been dreaming of the good life as the contestant (whose name is nickasius) won an entertainment showcase.

i was hungry yes, because of the early start. but who am i to complain at a time like this?

good thing, a girl came by selling snakol. its grated cassava sweetened by sugar and steamed to perfection. it is best eaten warm. i bought her last two ones. ate part of the first and left the others for the kids.

that may have been the difference between feeling their hunger and knowing about their hunger.

good thing it has been raining since last night. there is hope.

mindoro-marinduque in stories of food

2006-04-21T20:38:00.000+08:00

i was figuring out how to tell the story of our recent MIMA trip. at first, i think i wanted to write up the descriptions of the places we've been to, the feelings and all those shit that i can think about. but i thought that it's too kapuy and i feel that i wanted to write about something new. so since, i am a food lover (among other things) i decided to write about the whole experience through the mouthwatering dishes that graced my palate. i'm no connoiseur, that's for sure, but i know good food when i see, smell, and taste one.

here goes.

i woke up very early morning on the sunday that i left davao. very early, that i was even awake before the chickens in our yard came tiktilaok-ing. i am flying out at 0545 and woke up at 0400. lots of time to dilly dally and catch up on a little stress free morning. after i've dressed up for my flight, i figured that i have some time to eat a little something for breakfast. i looked into the fridge and fished out a package of dangit that ross sent a week ago. hmm why not.

i fried away and ate a little bit of the organic rice that sonnyboy cooked the night before. the saltiness was just right to wake up my senses. but the thing that really woke me up was the fact that i realized that i haven't left the house at 0510.

changna.

thank god i made it, arrived at the airport at 0540. changna talaga!

arrived in manila very sleepy, yet very much anticipating a good vacation. i carried six kilos of durian with me. one was for the house and the other for the mom of a good friend. it was teasing me all the time i was carrying it and was tempting me to have a taste. my davaoeño craving was finally satisfied at night. when i opened a durian fruit for the first time.

it was no joke! durian attendant needs a lot of skills to break open the thorny shell to bring out the meat in good condition. that i found out the hard way. but for lack of skills, i was hacking and prying and twisting the knife to get to my ultimate fruit passion. at the end, after a lot of sweat that trickled down my brow, the sweet familiar scent of durian filled the family room. and proudly gave out portions to my dad and siblings. of course this experience wouldn't be complete with cokes (ok, so it is coke).

when i burped, i was reminded of home.

but home would need to be left behind for a while because i would be travelling with good friends to MIMA of MIMAROPA (mindoro - marinduque - romblon - palawan) for the holy week break. i left manila and boarded the bus earlier than i left davao, after a slow night with the utols indulging on delicious starbucks beverages. i got abjf, the rest got their frap and tea and strawberries and cream. good thing kuya is treating. i skipped ranting against the commercialism crap.

anyways, arrived at calapan around 8a. now i am hungry. and ninin knows me when i'm hungry. she devised this theory about boy-sapot. see when i get hungry, i get really angry. 'nuff said.

and the nearest food place are the carinderias along the side of the road. i figured its too early into the vacation for boy-sapot so i opened one kawali at a time, looking for interesting food to keep my tummy at peace. i finally settled with tinais. 5 fishes wrapped in young mango leaves, boiled in vinegar, onions and garlic. tastes like paksiw but with a slight tang. i'm sure it would have tasted better if only the ambience was better. but what the hey, boy sapot was averted.

so it was me, ninin and gerry that were travelling from manila and met up with tatit, anj, jan, meh and rhia travelling from puerto gallera. we finally took off calapan as soon as they finished their jollibee breakfast. jollibee, by the way seems to be the place to be in calapan. aside from chowking and greenwhich, these three fast food establishments are word of mouth of all the people who we asked on where we could have a chow.

we ran into kuya art, a driver that agreed to take us to roxas, which we coerced to take us to bulalacao, and we finally convinced to stay the night to take us back to socorro the following day. good guy that art!

for lunch we ambushed ninin's lola. amazing woman, lola socorro is. preparing a quick lunch of tilapia, some soup and rice. not bad, for arriving in short notice. in here short notice means, arriving at 11:00am and eating at around 12:00. i expect to raise some eyebrows. but the kind hearted lola and the ladies in waiting were all smiles and welcomed us warm heartedly into their abode.

dinner treated us with the bad news of rhia's leg being too friendly with carbuncles. good thing gerry, who is a doctor, was around to help her see through the sutures and all. its kinda hard to remember our dinner but am sure it was fish and salad and cokes.

next day, i was gladdened to have rhia back on her toes. her bandage hugging her left leg, but still alright i guess. so we drifted towards three islands off the shores of bulalacao. we had the whole morning hopping over rocks, interesting plants and joshua trees. we treated ourselves to lunch at a desserted island with a sand bar. our lunch of fish, rice and watermelon was made sumptous by the crashing of the waves, the warm sea air tickling our nostrils and the cool shade of a tree in the foreground. what a nice feeling to eat and be alive.

i was wondering since yesterday why dead skin cells were forming on my abdomen. then i realized that i got them from exposing my tummy to the sun for an hour or so on the trip back to balatasan in bulalacao. we took the whole afternoon and early evening to travel back to socorro. kuya art is really a cool guy.

but all those travel was rewarded with delicious crabs and shrimps and adobo and fried tilapia that were prepared for queens and kings. i was very quiet then, savoring the feast before me that filled my tummy but my heart as well. i wondered what could be the secret ingredient of all the good food that i've tasted. certainly not the fancy food decor, probably not the ambience. but i think it should be the cook showing his or her love to the one who will eat the dish that hits the right taste. and i'm sure this meal was prepared by one smiling cook.

we hurriedly took our adobo breakfast next day as we were afraid to be left behind by the boat that plies the pinamalayan - gasan route. left pasi (socorro) before real light and finally settled down on our seats on the motor boat at around 9a. the batya (a boat that ferries people from the shore to the boats) weren't very friendly as it clashes with the angry waves hitting the shore. not very friendly. not very friendly.

around 12 noon we arrived in gasan, marinduque the same way we left pinamalayan, mindoro. through a batcha. my legs were wobbly and my head spinning from the strong waves and children barfing all around. i never knew i could get sea sick. i learn something new everyday.

meh and gerry left the bunch but karylle and arienne (who've had a bunch of names, before we met her) were quick enough to fill the gap. the eight is complete once again. lunch was highlighted with the traditional marinduqueño welcome of putongan. some old timers were brought in to sing for us and put crowns over our heads and palm and flowers on our hands. i never felt such royal treatment ever in my whole life ever. i felt humbled by the gesture. it was a sweet as lola's rhia hugging and kissing and sniffing me when we came to see her. the heart of the philippines surely must be so full of love!

we visited gaspar island the next day. when tita vi was preparing our packed lunch, she told me about her displeasing experience at elephant island.

tita vi: (holding out a five inch sugpo) hindi mo pwedeng dalhin ito sa elephant island. hindi sila pumapayag na magdala ka ng pagkain mo. kailangan kang bumili sa kanya. ay sus! ang mahal nito (referring to the sugpo) dun... fifty pesos isa.

me: (in my mind) ang mahal nga!

but i guess, the thing that would endear tita vi's (or is it tita melba) cooking is the way the cook connects with me. again, i felt the love of the people in the food that we indulged in. my taste buds were all in a blur but my heart connected to the heart of the cook. it was all good food.

together with a kitang, we feasted once more. and then it came to me another ingredient that would make food delicious. its good company. friends, both old and new. make the simplest and most inato of all meals taste better than the most savory dish eaten alone. somehow, a part of me is being shared when i eat with good company. i used to say that you can never really know a person if you've not eaten with them. true enough, the best moments with friends i've had were moments when we were eating. not necessarily talking (don't talk when your mouth is full...) but sharing the ulam and all. nice.

we were also introduced to kare kare marinduque style. its liempo chopped into fine pieces, cooked in pork's blood and vinegar and siling tagalog. much like dinuguan but without the innards i guess. it goes well with puto (which are one of the most mouth watering ones i've tasted ever). there must be something in their puto and their bibingka that sets it apart from the other ones. hmmm if only i knew.

we were about to leave boac, but not without witnessing a march of the morions as they were seeking out longinus. we almost missed this integral part of the trip because of our wanderlust. but the whole trip would not be complete without the last meal in boac. it was sinigang na pata cooked in pressue cooker. the taba gives credence to the part when the candyman sings melt in your mouth. it was guilty indulgence, a cardiac delight of sorts as we chomped away.

i came back to manila maybe a few pounds heavier. but i think all those travelling, adventures and stress must've eaten them out all the same.

i still feel tired from that vacation. anj, tat and myself agrees that we need a vacation from that vacation. o well there is always the labor weekend.

vacation mode

2006-04-03T17:08:00.000+08:00

too early? perhaps. but since we've capped off our two day activity yesterday, my body and consciousness have decided not to do work anymore.

four days does not seem to be a long time. but for me, it feels like an eternity. ok, so what stands between me and mindoro-marinduque? how about two meetings with the youth from two areas on wednesday and thursday, a meeting with the boss on friday, and a fiesta tomorrow.

i would have felt excited with the stuff that i need to do for the week. but no, something in me refuse to cooperate. when the sun touched my skin around noon today, i cannot help imagining that i am at the beach. when the wind blew at my face in the tricycle going to the area, i imagine how the wind would blow my hair going across from batangas to mindoro.

i am sure it would be a treat going from island to island, seeing the blue of the ocean. marvelling at wonderous sunrises and sunsets. i can't wait to be surprised by the crooks and crannies of the caves we would be visiting. the many jumps as high as i can that would pull me straight to the deep end of the water. i just can't wait to pack my bag and go.

but probably the best treat of it all would be having good friends along. i haven't been with these guys for the longest time. i must have been very busy already, that i've been spending less and less time in davao. this trip would be "pambawi" of sorts.

more than anything else, it would be laughing with them, sharing the experience of the laag would have been worth all the tripping, and the months of savings. for someone whois coming from davao, the trip would not be cheap.

but hey, whois counting? all the money in the world couldn't buy friendship anyway.

and so it goes. just four more days, then another night in davao and vacation here i come.

can't wait.

wipe that grin off your face

2006-03-17T20:29:00.000+08:00

its been ages since i read and finished a decent book. i can't even remember the last one that held me. and its even longer since i wrote something what i've read. so here goes the over analytic jerry in me, trying to make sense out of good omens (by neil gaiman and terry pratchett).

the world is an interesting place to live in. why? because it is populated by humans. if only the last creature that god created are not humans, then it would have been simpler. he was so far ahead in the first five days, until it came into his mind that he needed someone to foil up perfection.

thus, on saturday (though, this is highly debatable, i can see fr. miranda's eyes widening... anyways) he took some mud and created our parents. and worse he gave that creature something that could make and break (hopefully either or, but we must admit, its make and break at the same time) his creation. he gave humans: free will.

and then it got nasty.

flash forward, 4million years to now. and we see the world that is ours. we see war, famine, pollution (i know, i know, don't blame me, blame gaiman and pratchett) and yes death. we see it everyday, and we know it exists where it matters. in our minds.

had i been god, i would have been sad. i would have regretted that sixth day. i would have stopped at angels and demons. angels and demons are simpler. if you are good then you are with me, if you are bad then you are my enemy. no gray areas, no uncertainty. ineffable.

i mean, where is the love (insert black eyed peas intro here)? where is the grandeur of creation when you see fellow filipinos fighting against each other? when you meet up with leaders who've one way or the other made an attempt to pocket some project funds (some have succeeded mind you)? and the worst is, i have to work with them. i have to believe that they can still help out their communities. even if the heart of me wants to damn them to eternal suffering.

okay, so i have issues.

but the point is, at the end of the day. i have to deal with humans. no angels. no demons. humans who are capable to choose. worthy of being good as much as being bad. humans who make this world's knees buckle in his (or her as the case may be) greediness and self centeredness. and humans who lend a fresh face to beauty in her (or his as the case may be) unselfish sacrifice of oneself.

that is why it so freaking hard!

but i am not god (thank god). i am a dude, whois trying to make sense of this world i've inherited from who knows who. i am just your typical, easy go lucky 'george' whois looking after himself in this chaotic and un-comprehendable world.

the man and the woman, i've learned early can bring about the destruction of the world. but they are also the hope of creation. they can make a life beautiful, the way that a mother looks at her newborn child. or the way someone tells you not to sleep yet, cause she's got something to say :)

i think that gives a more meaningful meaning (hah! i just have to put that in) to this life that i am in. in as much as i can make myself miserable, and sad, and 'menopausal' (not that i would be, not in a million years, but you know what i mean is being in sapot mode), i can also choose to be happy, to open up to life's challenges, to love and be open to being loved.

i guess that's what makes us special in god's eyes. for we can, and would always like to choose. destiny might be a word that i can associate with free will. that's all there is to it. i choose who i wanna be, and i go where my heart tells me. even if all these choosing can make me sad (or damned) in the end. at the end of the day, i choose my destiny.

and in the midst of all the pains that i've been through (work life, family life, davao life, kabacan life, manila life, love life, life in general, life in specific), there is something in me that makes me want to smile... nay, grin is more like it.

because in between all of those and/or happening one after the other, there is something nice (exact and precise) that is meant for me. now if only i can have a peek at that plan (or as would fr. manoling and fr. johnny would refer to as the greater scheme of things.)

all that we let in

2006-03-07T10:12:00.000+08:00

i opened my eyes on yet another bed early morning monday. i froze to recollect the things that transpired before i went to sleep last night.

from all the fluids we've drank yesterday and water around us (ac, ag, jj), we felt thirsty. arrgh, after downing more than five bottles of strong ice/san mig light who wouldn't? then the blur of images came back instantly and i woke up finally from the proddings of ac's uncle to wake up the sleeping bodies in the family room of paradise island beach resort in davao.

the blur became clearer and clearer as i reached for the glass of water that the waiter brought to our table. it was supposed to be an intro dive for ac. i arrived around lunch time, with my sling bag wearing my trunks underneath my shorts and a polo shirt and some money. nothing more. i expected it to be a relaxing, slow day.

but after taking a cool dip in the almost "hunas" waters of paradise and downing a bottle, and after the waiter informing us that the last trip out of the resort was 5.00p (he was kind enough to inform us around 4.45p... how thoughtful), the three of us decided to well spend the night there. with little prodding of course from ac, whose family is staying over for the night.

free food and booze, how can ag and jj resist. with the beach and the sunset, the water just right, not too cold, nor too warm, we contemplated on the davao that we know. the davao that has come to be home for many people, but in differing degrees.

some consider davao home because that is where they are. they sleep, eat, drink, study/work in davao. they literally breathe in davao. they get bored in davao, they get a life in davao. they are davaoeñas in the strictest term.

others consider davao home because their roots are still here. although they work in other places where the pay is better, they'd hop into a plane in a heartbeat for some soul feeding. davao is their home because this is where they want to be even if their work takes them far away.

while others consider davao home because davao is rest. from the hustles and bustles of life. even if they spend two days a week at home. they get their refreshment, stretch out their weary bones and muscles and get ready for yet another week.

still others like joey ayala consider davao as their creative spot. when we were chatting loosely after the jvp rocks at 25 concert last saturday, he told me how most of his songs were written in davao.

(other davaoeñas/davaoeños can still put in their two cents worth and add to the list.)

with the sun casting its light in the last few minutes of the day, beer in tow, talking about our friends and acquaintances, learning more about each other. we declared to come home to davao, wherever we are from.

after taking a bath on sunday night (courtesy of ac's soap and shampoo sachets) we laid down on the beach, stared at the sun some more, listened to the waves some more and smelled the salty wind some more and waited for us to fall asleep.

capping off another moment with our beloved home i can't help to think that this would not be forever. and yes together with my waking up monday morning, the moment has already passed. but it was all so real that it has become difficult to separate from the other real that we have to go through on monday.

its tuesday today and i still wish i was still on the beach. but no regrets for i know that i could always go back any time i like. it would only take some company and a few hundreds (mga 200 siguro) to have another shot of paradise.

we look forward to the next visitor / resident to davao, and be happy because we'd be better off for all that we let in.

top load

2006-03-01T00:53:00.000+08:00

i know, i know.

i've written about this before. in fact before i typed away, i searched my blog for any entries that has "top load." the search came up with two.

fair enough. here's number three.

i should be sleeping now. but the thoughts of the last few hours needs to be written down.

i thought i have rode on all possible rides back home to davao. i was wrong, for tonight i went home "on" a jeepney. notice the word between the quotation marks. i was on top of the jeepney we hired to get all the participants for the training tomorrow that my bossing is going to give.

in short... top load.

with the stars littering the cool sky of the last day of february, i realized how small and far away i am.

last week, i spent the whole week home in davao. doing, well davao stuff. all could have been perfect, but someone in malacañang just had to do a back door of martial law. giddemit! now i have been worried for my brothers and sisters, for my mom and dad, for ila and for my friends in manila. somehow the things i did last weekend have been a bit dour. the water in samal seemed too cold for a comfortable swin. beer seemed watered down (hell yeah, after downing 7 bottles for the day, one more than our 3-6 theory.) and fricking hang-over the morning after was mind numbing, more than the last few. and i have to wake up early to attend a meeting.

sheesh!

had i been in manila, i would have been the noisiest among people i know. i would have spoken out early on, maybe even asked my friends to stand up in protest. i would have networked with a few connections from my college days and asked where i would be needed. i would have downed more beer in the spirit of discussing and finding ways for a viable and long lasting solution.

but i'm not.

i am in mindanao. so far away, that the ripples of that is happening in my imperialist (other) home are fading away. right here, the problems that people face are more real. poverty, war and all the injustice that comes as "pakapin" of the first two.

its more real, because people have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. while our stay in the areas, afforded us with tinapa (sardinas in manila parlance) some kadjos (vegetable dish, its good, but i can't seem to make out the ingredients) and a whole big tray of rice. i cannot help but feel alienated from the real suffering of the people. our hosts would usually let us eat first and they would mostly do the pahimagas of stories of their communities, within and around their neighborhood.

but still, the ugly face of poverty is at hand. even if it has been window dressed to almost perfection, prepped up to look good and suave and cool. poverty behind a facade, is still and will always be poverty. and it is not just the hunger in the physical sense.

so small and far away (fade in on me on top of the top load of kuya willie's jeepney, looking at the stars). yes, and that would be the reality if my reference point is manila. when i am in mindanao, i still feel small, but nearer. nearer to where the real action is. nearer to where i think i am most needed at. nearer, because i can feel the impetus for the change that is needed.

never a change of leaders of government of systems. but a personal transformation of the person. from the way i look at it, if the people in communities would just have a chance to become a dwarf in suit, they probably would have done the same. to do all that they can not to loose grip of power. power without responsibility. that is bad.

all i am saying is, we filipinos as a people need to look at ourselves individually and be the change that we would want to see. obviously, my favorite michael jackson song is "man in the mirror" (not the crotch-grabbing "thriller" mind you).

from my so called development work, i have come to realize that i am not doing anything for people to change. rather, the change has been happening inside of me. from the way i look at life, even on the way i enjoy my ciggys, up till the way i am thankful for the small and big blessings in life. thankfully there are more big ones.

changing people would be just a fringe benefit from all the "good" that has been happening inside. i placed the word good between quotations, because as i have told my good friend anj, "hindi ko talaga masabing: gusto ko lang talagang maging mabait." it made my hair stand on end just uttering that phrase. but somehow i know, that the goodness in all people can still make itself manifest, even from a person like me.

far and away from manila, but nearer to home in mindanao.

at this point in time, i would rather be here than any other place in the whole wide world.

staring at the stars.

of a blister and of hope

2006-02-18T21:05:00.000+08:00

had it not been for the three amoxycillin capsules i took since last night (with eight hour intervals of course), i would not have made it back home to davao.

now i believe the person who said: "sakit ng kalingkingan, sakit ng buong katawan!"

injured my pinky of my right foot wednesday. a blister developed and the skin broke all in a period of two hours, while walking in muddy terrain, under the heat of the late morning sun. i thought not much of it then, as my whole body ached from all the walking to and from sambag. and a sore pinky is not exactly what i want to remember before i went to sleep. i just did the usual first aid, cleaned it up with soap and water as i took my nightly baths.

thursday, a limp is quite obvious now. hmmmm, still far away from the stomach. so i just cleaned it at night with betadine and soap and water. pretty ok, but i feel a little bit immobilized as i cannot run, much less walk as fast as i wanted to.

friday. the moment i woke up at the un-godly hour of 5.30a, i know something is wrong with my foot. i looked at it to confirm. holy kamote! my foot is swelling. the blister has been infected. but i braved the day as we went through with a scheduled training. with the hopes of getting better, i bandaged it before i left the office. only to realize that it has worsened around noon. as the sun set on friday, i decided to crack a capsule. i would have consulted a doctor first, but being in the middle of a barangay that is connected to the highway by a muddy (yet again!) ever diminishing road (being eaten by an irrigation canal, right by its side). i would have to go with the advice of ate lanie.

and that was how i came to remember: i am mortal, after all. capable of feeling pain from a pin prick, much more from an infected foot. when it comes to dealing with the people in communities, the temptation to think of greatness more often than not permeate my agenda. i always have the vision to make everything better. to help them solve their problems. i have this glorious feeling of making a difference in the lives of the people i journey with.

i looked at my foot another time and laughed at the irony of it all. the man who wanted to journey with the poor cannot even walk straight.

then it hit me, it is never me that would make everything better. i cannot even make the pain disappear from my foot (darned it! no alcohol for me....) i cannot help them solve their problems as their problems as their own. and the feeling, the glorious feeling of making a difference in the lives of people is not so glorious after all.

yet, it is the least i can do. it is the least i can hope for. the road to real development is never gonna be easy, but i know, what we do now can and would make a difference down the road. after all the projects have been completed, and all the reports have been liquidated and filed, the people remain to move on and fight their daily struggles. in a blink of an eye it could all be over. but that blink could be as long as forever if it is spent fruitfully.

and maybe that would be the most that i can do. to hope with the people. to ask questions with them, and with enough faith and hope, make things possible through them. and maybe i can have more fun with them. and make friends with them. since the start of the year, i have been working with youth in communities. i figured that i cannot run my meetings and do activities with them the way i run it with the oldies. it has to be with more pizzaz, yet never loosing the meat of the matter. short enough to be interesting and long enough to cover the important things... like a mini skirt.

sweet, short and sexy!

i do not dream of big projects. all i want is for these young people to realize the good that their have done for peace to come to their communities. or at the very least, think of how they can carry the legacy forward. and have fun along the way.

for at the end of the day, that is what makes this job all worth it.

i still feel a prick of pain down there. but i know, it would get better.

one time lang

2006-02-14T20:15:00.000+08:00

can i just take all the air that i can take in. and exhale slooooowly.

the day that is just like anyother day turned into tragedy. what with one of my housemates in kabacan crying her heart out. just because i joked that someone has a crush on her.

sheesh.

and the other one is out in the area. after having a spat with her.

sheesh.

and me. insert "buntong hininga" here.

weekend attitude

2006-02-09T19:57:00.000+08:00

its thursday.

supposedly, its a day or two away before i go home to davao. but no, i might be sticking it up here until next week! what must've been the cause of such a delay?

usually, i would have my lower lip pouting and my eyebrows meeting with the prospect of not being able to come home. i need my rest and davao is rest for me.

however...

things are starting to change. somehow, the tug of being with the people seems to be getting a bigger priority in my days. it has become easier to schedule meetings with the people on saturdays and sundays. and "worse" it has been me who has been doing the scheduling. i was thinking, maybe i can get my rest on any other day. or maybe i could even get in any other place, other than davao.

intimidating, daunting even.

this change in weekend attitude has made me wonder on what is it going to be like in the next few months. i would not even have an answer though why this came about. and i would not even go into my usual maybe's and perhaps'. suffice it to say that things have taken quite a turn recently.

damn, if only i can point my finger on what exactly are those "things."

in the meantime, i get ready for a davao less weekend.

kwentong barberya

2006-01-31T16:57:00.000+08:00

its weird really, entering a barbershop for the first time, what, in like five years.

i surveyed the three barber chairs, one of which seems to be for sale. two barbers barely in their 30s are busy with their clients. the third one is watching a tv show at abs cbn, quite unmindful of the new client that went in.

there was a lolo though, but he is reading a local tabloid, probably waiting for his turn on the other two barbers. so i made a polite aherm and the third barber looked my way. aha a client! he must've said, as i noticed a little smile that formed at the corner of his lips.

i sat down at the barber seat. it felt funny. my fondest memories of barbershop was back in third year high school when me and my cocc mates would troop to me queni in retiro once every two weeks to get our "4-by-5-white-side-walls-flat-top-sir!" the quote should be said out loud to get the full effect.

hehehe those were the days, when most of my allowances would be spent to get that regular sharpening. when i started to grow my hair, five years ago, i have stopped visiting barbershops and frequented parlors for my trims. just so to prevent split ends.

and so i felt the impersonal chair and leaned back and let the kid do his job. i closed my eyes, indifferent to what was going on outside. i just need to get this over and done with. mid way, he had to stop and get a fresh set of blades. sheesh, has it been that long? in a few minutes it was over. i asked how much it cost me. its twenty five pesos.

what the f*ck! it costs five pesos more than regular cut. damn. i gave him a hundred and waited for my change. i would not have wanted to go through this hassle, i mean being back in cdo the second time in three days and taking that night trip later. but o well...

but the two week facial hair has to go.

instant travel

2006-01-28T18:58:00.000+08:00

i wish it was this easy everytime.

i woke up this morning curled up inside my malong in st. peter. an interior barangay in malaybalay city that i reached yesterday afternoon after travelling seven hours from davao. it was a cool and nice place where an activity would be held in the next few days.

what happened in the next few hours till this moment was still a bit blur for me. i knew that a few friends would be in cagayan tomorrow for a zipline event thingy. i was a bit sad when the activity this weekend coincided with the gimik. but after learning that my take at facilitation would still be on monday, my feet suddenly got itchy.

so i asked boy to accompany me on a seven minute habal ride to sitio mahayag to get to a cell site. made a few calls, computed time it would take me to get to cdo and back, consulted the habal drivers for their last trips, took a peek inside my wallet, and finally asked permission from ate maco.

and off i go. took a one hour ride on a habal habal within a road not frequently taken. skipped on a non-air bus to cagayan de oro. and now, typing away so that i do not forget this moment.

whew! this should be one hell of a trip. a bonus is my bro is also in town because of some roadshow for his company. and there is the fire works display at ketkai tonight at nine. and of course there's anj and tat, real good friends that i really wanted to spend time with.

wanderlust.

just do it

2006-01-17T10:58:00.000+08:00

its the third week of the year, and i was still in vacation mode! damn, i hate feeling like this, feeling exhausted already because of all the things that need to be done. just looking at all the plans and the stuff that should be happening next week and the rest of the year, makes me want to go back into my bed and sleep it all away.

talk about escapism.
talk about laziness.

but somehow, sparks of inspiration strikes me that makes me wonder why i am escaping... or why i am feeling lazy. the inspiration came yesterday in SM Davao. there i was walking around, trying to get two rolls of film and three mini dv casettes. at the same time, trying to figure out what to do in the next few days.

then i passed by the nike stadium shop and instantaneously i looked for the swish and the words that are associated with the brand. i saw the swoosh but somehow i knew what the swoosh is telling me.

just do it!

and i get the drift.