Cake and Sushi Friday: Oki Oki and the Cake Club

It was a Friday night hell. In Manila, anyways, while on the road. I was on my way on the other side of Makati, just making my way from the north side down south to get my ass to Edsa. It took me an hour from San Antonio Village to Makati Avenue which normally takes ten, fifteen minutes, and about thirty, at worst. Well, it was the usual Friday night traffic, but I didn't expect it would be that bad.

Since I started taking pity on the car I decided to park somewhere, and I was thankful that the A.Venue Mall was a good temporary shelter. And I thought, well, I could have my dinner here.

Two consecutive nights of pizza already strikes out anything Italian, hence I was left with burgers, the local fare, and... Japanese. As much as I was trying to stay away from rice, I kinda disregard that maki in fact has tons of rice as well. Hmmm. The heck. Japanese it is!

I want my sushi, any day.
Image from Wikipedia. Author: Laitr Keiows. 

Oki Oki at the A. Venue mall has been around, I think, since the mall opened, considering how many restaurants have come and gone in this particular space. The menu is expected; they have the usual sushi bar, bento sets, noodles, and the like. It was just a matter of choosing which to gobble that night.

I decided to order the salmon sashimi and maki rolls; I can't remember if I told the waitress I wanted the all-vegetable roll, but I might have said I wanted the shake too or I pointed at the crazy rolls. Anyway. I chatted with a friend over the phone as I waited for the food. The restaurant wasn't full but there was a good sampling of customers: foreigners, a yuppie group, a couple, a small group of male seniors, and three tables occupied by a woman. Wow. How come it's a rarity to see a guy eating out alone?

When the sashimi arrived I told my friend I would have to order another serving as I thought the raw salmon wouldn't be enough. And then the rolls finally made it to my table. OH MY GOODNESS.

They're huge and topped with heaps of strings of crab meat. It was probably six pieces. And it was good. It was more than enough.

I paired the food with a bottle of San Miguel Pale Pilsen (none of that light beer for me!). The stuffing had some crunchy fish inside it topped with a thin layer of mayonaise; the sliver of fresh cucumber made the heaviness breathe. Dang, those crazy rolls. The salmon was fresh, the soy sauce was light. I wish I could have more but I was full.

Price-wise the food is above average; but for all the stuff I ordered my bill was somewhere along
P 550.00; it wasn't bad, considering, but it's a not the usual daily budget for a meal.

When the roads finally cleared at 9PM I went to the Fort to meet a friend. Instead of hanging out in a coffee shop I dragged his happy ass to go out walking. We walked from Burgos Circle to Serendra, thinking we would have a bottle of red. We were disappointed to see one of our favorites, Cuillere, has closed. Ah, memories in that French restaurant. We went straight to another favorite, Chelsea Market, but alas, a waiter told us they would close by 11PM. OH REALLY --- on a Friday night.


I told my friend we should have cake instead but we passed by Slice earlier and it was full. He said there's another place beside Aria, and of course, and finally, we settled our craving asses at The Cake Club by Diamond Hotel.

The dessert selection at The Cake Club was heaven: cakes, pastries, ice cream, some wine selection, the usual coffee. I was deciding between Le Reve, a parfait, and Le Royale, which is pretty much a chocolate cake. The description goes like this:


Le Reve
This dreamy parfait is guaranteed to make you happy. Made with dark chocolate mousse, orange, hazelnut crispy topped with our Supermoist Chocolate Ice Cream.

Le Royale
Chef Pang Kok Keongis' signature cake is made of Valrhona dark chocolate mousse, almond meringue, and hazelnut crispy.

Hmm. They're pretty much the same, no, except one is a parfait, the other is a slice of cake? But Le Reve wasn't available as it was "Weekend Treat" at which point my friend had to say, quite haughtily at the cute waiter, "But isn't it weekend yet?"

So I settled with Le Royale while he ordered the Baked Cheesecake. Price: P 250.00 each. The price of a glass of wine (minus taxes, basically).

The great thing about these cakes is that they are not too sweet and they are just enough to last about an hour of conversation. This is the kind of cake one savors because one small bite is enough to give you the all-much needed sweet from the usual sour. The consistency of the cheese cake is firm enough but not cakey, and there is that slight tang and sweetness that can stand on its own without the supplement of the topping. Like a nicely-made New York cheesecake.

My cake was heaven. The hazelnut crispy and the meringue was a nice surprise to the bite, and these two nutty flavors take their turns in your palette... which is to say, when you bite there is that dark chocolate flavor, and before that there is the almond, taking turns with the hazelnut, and then the back finish is the symphony wrapped in dark chocolate love. The solid mousse was like a fresh ice cream in terms of consistency without the melting point.

I guess after this stint I became more inspired, especially in combining my two favorite cuisine: Japanese and chocolate. Yes, I just said that chocolate is a cuisine. The same way you can probably describe a filmmaker as a genre, you know, like when you say, "It's a Woody Allen movie" and you already know what that is.

Murakami and Repetition: Pinball, 1973

It was an accidental reading.

Saturday night, it was so boring. The day had been. The day before that --- or maybe it was Thursday or the day prior --- I hung out with a friend and he told me he saw an Ian McEwan copy of Sweet Tooth somewhere. Since he works at The Fort and we were at The Fort, we made our way to Fully Booked, thinking that that was the place where we could likely find the new Ian McEwan publication. When we got there, we looked for it and, of course, at the back of my head I was looking for Murakami's latest work, 1Q84 although I knew I wouldn't be reading that, well, immediately.

I just thought it would be nice to have something new by these two authors as I had recently finished The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides. This trio --- Haruki Murakami, Ian McEwan and Jeffrey Eugenides --- have got to be my favorite authors. I was delighted when I found out that these three were coming out with something new between 2011 and 2012. The Marriage Plot... well, it was well-written but it wasn't a eureka moment. I love Eugenides still.

Fully Booked on High Street ran out of stocks on the new McEwan and Murakami books. How sad. Just who the heck are buying them now? (haha!)

I never really thought I would somehow end up reading Pinball, 1973 last Saturday. I didn't really think that this book would be in my immediate future. I've been aware that it's hard to find a copy, it was originally planned to be released in Japan only, and well --- it's an old book. Murakami's second novel, I believe, the second of the Rat Trilogy, the third of which, A Wild Sheep Chase, is the first Murakami book I ever purchased which would eventually suck me into this world home to a man in sheep costume, people suddenly missing, detached sex, name dropping of jazz greats, drinking in bars, and well, lots of coffee and cigarettes. And doing copywriting and translation works. It's a great introduction to, say, surreal masterpieces with Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World as one of the best ever.

But then, maybe I identify myself too much with his world.

Pinball, 1973 is a short novel. I finished it in one sitting... alright, maybe three. I found it, by accident, on my sister's iPad. After my nephew finally got tired of playing Angry Birds' Bad Piggies, I finally got my hands on it and started browsing as Nights on Rodanthe was the only remotely interesting thing on TV that night and I already knew that someone's gonna die. Gee, Nick Sparks, we always know. I guess this is the only Nicholas Sparks adaptation that I can stomach mainly because of Richard Gere and Diane Lane.

So I started reading Pinball, 1973 and, lo and behold, it was again another familiar exploration.

To describe Pinball, 1973 to those who are no stranger to Murakami's works, the novel is like being mid-way in grave-digging, with A Wild Sheep Chase finally hurling one to the bottom, which further gives way, and the next thing you know you're battling the freefall, similar to that image of Gandalf the Grey battling the Balrog en route to the nether-nether land. It's a great introduction to the conclusion of the trilogy. However, I already knew what would happen to the Rat, I knew where J's bar would end up... now, is the narrator the same guy in A Wild Sheep Chase? Possibly.

To those who are not too familiar with Murakami, I must say that Pinball, 1973 --- should you accidentally find yourself having a (digital) copy --- is that kind of novel that floats. It doesn't really have a solid plot and it's a very easy read. It's a novel of being suspended with a few surprises. Heck, to start with, the main character narrates casually an encounter with "someone from Venus", like this Venusian entity is just some co-ed in a sweatshirt, describing the good ol' countryside. And of course, the women. The women! Oh, Murakami's women! You are the quintessential ghost.

There is this moment in the novel that pretty much got to me. It's about repetition and how this relates to the pinball. I am not familiar with pinball machines and I do not really care. But I guess the core of the novel is a commentary on routine, on repetition. In addition to the obsession with the pinball, there are the twins. And of course, the guy who wants to get out of the redundancy. Life can be just made up of habits, of plotted action, of the expected.

I do think that this work is a good introduction to the world of Murakami, especially to those who are curious. The story is pretty bare, but there is substantial Murakami to go around. It's like appreciating and analyzing soup: something so simple but if you would dare there are surprising depths and complexities that are worth finding.

Love, as a symbol: The Marriage Plot by Jeffrey Eugenides

I was quite stunned when it ended. Frankly, I had to wrap my head around it and ended up thinking that this is good literary work... but this is something I already knew. For some reason, I was reminded of this book I picked up at National Bookstore because it was on sale, although the title can be a bit a ha-ha moment for someone like me: The Man of My Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld.

Expectations were inevitable; I LOVE Jeffrey Eugenides' works. His works haunted me. I dreamt of the Lisbon sisters during those days I was reading The Virgin Suicides. I guess I found myself liking the movie (which, truly, has fantastic imagery and incredible music/scoring) because that book was outstanding. I reread parts of Middlesex while I was still reading it. I raved and raved and decided that Jeffrey Eugenides is up there, with my Haruki Murakamis and Ian McEwans.

It took several years before Eugenides got to produce a third novel which I had to address at some point: I purchased a collection of short stories edited by him, My Mistress' Sparrow is Dead: Great Love Stories from Chekhov to Munro.

In this compilation of shorts, Eugenides wrote and probably pre-empted the novel he was working on:

"When it comes to love, there are a million theories to explain it. But when it comes to love stories, things are simpler. A love story can never be about full possession. Love stories depend on disappointment, on unequal births and feuding families, on matrimonial boredom and at least one cold heart. Love stories, nearly without exception, give love a bad name".

In a way, I do not really want to think that The Marriage Plot definitely gives love a bad name though I have to agree that the spoil of love stories is that they are pretty much standard-issue. As I pointed out to my friend a few chapters before I would finish the book, "The Virgin Suicides opened with the suicide of a young girl, while incest anchors the story of Middlesex as early as the first, second chapter. Where is the hook, that moment?"

I initially found that "hook" in the early part although I was hoping it would catapult the narrative that way. See --- this is not exactly a spoiler, I hope --- the novel establishes "the marriage plot" which is basically and notably a foundation of many Victorian novels, ie Austen, Eliott, Thackeray (in Vanity Fair, obviously), etc. The marriage plot is, yes, about the quest of these heroines to find their respective Mr Darcy's and then get married. Simple. I read Vanity Fair years ago, and this thick book of satire is about Becky Sharpe's (mis)adventures in easing her way into the English society which will be secured by means of a "good" marriage. Pride and Prejudice begins with the unforgettable line, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife" and that the marriage plot is initially being plotted by Mrs Bennett, the mother of the heroine.

When you think about it, growing up our life is geared towards the marriage plot: the sequence of school-career-marriage. We want to go to good schools so we can grow up in a "good" crowd, that can lead us to a "good" career, which pretty much puts us in a certain status whether we are "marriageable" or not. Seriously. It all narrows to finding that partner whom we will marry, have kids with, and live with in "little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky-tack" as that Malvina Reynolds song goes.

Basically, The Marriage Plot establishes this as the mindset of its heroine, Madeleine Hanna. Although on the outside she seems like the perfect girl in the 1980s with Victorian sensibilities, the conflict is that she is really desperate. Finally finding her "guy" in the character of Leonard Bankhead, she is the epitome of "I want this relationship to work!". On one side, there is Mitchell Grammaticus, the guy who is truly in-love with her. He distracts his, uh, heart from romantic disappointments hence he searches for some light through some frantic religious quest.

I have to agree with this, though: occupation is the best distraction.

But of course, things are not perfect with Madeleine and Leonard. Leonard's dysfunction is a given which I guess symbolizes that not all men (or say, partners) are perfect: they come in some twisted form of impairment that is either inherent or almost uncompromising. Hence, Madeleine and Leonard's love story is about the entire dance of "make it work", some pushing and shoving, until finally someone makes that one big final push.

When you think about it, the marriage plot is but an image of a love story because --- it is universally acknowledged --- love is deemed "real" through the validation of an institution, the population. Getting and being married, frankly, can be a status symbol. It's like having your relationship status being "Facebook official", you know?

The inclusion of semiotics and criticism and many references to Nietzsche, etc. may be due to the college setting, that period when people liked to quote the published and the revered, to take the side of the criticized. But the plot, in itself, is a representation of everything. The book is an approach to the semiotics of the marriage plot, anyone's love story. No matter how you complicate the plots and the demons of the characters, I did come to conclude that, oh well, we all have the same love story --- whether it ends one way or another. The subplots just make the difference, the intentions are one and the same.

The Marriage Plot is not really about love gone wrong; it's about what love is in its many forms, set against the intellectual background of the university, against the Victorian novels, against multiple perceptions. Eugenides opens the book, and somehow gives a peek at how things will go, through an excerpt from the The Talking Heads' "Once in a Lifetime":

And you may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful house

And you may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful wife

In the end, of course, in the name of love, the two boys --- Leonard and Mitchell --- decide what is good for Madeleine. And this good thing for Madeleine is something I told a friend years before she got married, those years she was, er, confused: "The problem is, you were never truly single".

So that, of course, is the solution to every marriage plot that is failing: it fails because the people in it never went through the process of being alone, of being just themselves. And naturally, the most enlightened ones are the ones who make the great move of drifting away, those who are insane enough to explore the world, to explore the madness in themselves, those who are willing to live by leaving.

"More determined, more inspired than ever"

(Screen)captured: This will make you believe in love.

Maybe it's (post)colonial, but to be honest the USA is the country I can most identify with (even though I liked Europe more than LA, haha). We Filipinos grew up watching American TV and movies, sang to many American tunes, and we mostly visit American-manufactured hyper-realities and the other versions of the virtual. Franchises thrive here because of the "American" guarantee, and --- even in this day and age, despite the economic woes and self-identity guilt --- many Filipinos still want to move to the great ole' United States of America and pursue the American dream.

I was interested in US politics because I find it, well, intriguing. I hear a lot about American politicians as opposed to their European counterparts. Heck, I know who Sarah Palin is and I have no idea who the Dutch PM is (I remember Balkenende? from years ago). American politics is almost as good as Hollywood, which all of us can get easily infected with. Didn't President Obama appear in Saturday Night Live or some late talk show?

This care and even concern for the outcome of American politics is not just due to the fact that it has always been the "most powerful country in the world" but also, because, in its current state in which American still hangs on by the thread with that sought-after, say, responsibility of being "most powerful", what happens in America does not stay in America. When 9/11 happened the world somehow rifted apart, recalling this infamous statement by GWBush, aka "either you're with us or against us". It affected our troops as some members of our thin armed forces were shipped to the Middle East. The terrorist networks in many countries somehow got activated. Many of us died, in addition to those who died in their soil, in their war.

And yes, economy-wise, the Philippines has benefitted from the outsourcing which many Americans complain about. We have one of the strongest --- if not the best --- BPO industries in the world. BPO companies here are constantly head-hunting. They want jobs? They're right here. You can stand in a corner and a recruiter from a BPO will approach you. No kidding, I have witnessed interviews in a Tapa King outlet on a narrow street in Makati. Do we want to ship them back? Well, how about these American companies knowing which ones to outsource and which ones to keep home? You can't be competitive if you keep all your eggs in one basket, right? Globalization is a derivative of natural forces, I believe.

Obviously I find myself more aligned with the Democratic agenda. I read The Huffingtost Post, the New Yorker, the New York Times. Even The Economist endorsed Obama for both candidacies. I recently admitted that I am crushing on Nate Silver now, though I read somewhere that he is an "openly gay Democrat" (which I have no problems with and will probably make me love him more). But I believe in corporations as well because capitalism is here. Social capitalism --- is there such thing? Do we really live and believe in -isms? How about doing something about the reality based on a set of basic principles: fair, right, just, equal. Love should be all around and not just for the 1%, right? That's the thing with trickle-down economics --- it only trickles. Trick... trick........ trrrriiiiiicccckkkk.

I did follow the 2008 elections and obviously Obama was a sure winner. This year, it was pretty nail-biting. There were the annoyed, the swayed, the undecided. Whose point would the tip lean towards?

The campaigns were the stuff I found fascination with. Pre-election was insane, it reminded me of "search and destroy". Nobody was supposed to be left alive. The attacks were almost personal. I didn't know which were true, which ones were the lies, which ones were the stuff fairytale villains were made of.

But I know, that the image up there, is real.

We are still making it through the rain

As the world (hopefully) knows, Manila and parts of Central and Northern Luzon were pounded by days of medium to heavy rains due to the southwest monsoons and that overstaying typhoon Gener which, as the joke went, was probably after a Philippine citizenship. It was like Ondoy Part Deux, except that instead of non-stop heavy rains in the morning, the rain was nice and steady and shitty days before. I was actually at work Monday night until the wee hours of Tuesday, and my colleagues and I bore witness to these rains all night. When I drove home I made it a point to avoid flood-prone areas in Mandaluyong and thankfully the route via the Rockwell-Mandaluyong bridge was quite peaceful. However, the next day, most of Manila was immersed in flood waters.

I still had cable when Ondoy hit and my area was lucky to have both electricity and cable working. I watched for days the rescues and the coverage, and since I was freelancing at that time I did manage to join relief efforts for a few days. This time, though, with no cable I only tracked the news via Twitter and snippets from YouTube. On Tuesday I realized I did not have food in the fridge so I braved the rains and the wind and made my way to the nearest fastfood and grocery to stock up. It felt silly. There I was, a little bit too cautious with a bit of rain shower on my umbrella, and there were people who were hungry and thirsty, most likely cold and stranded in the upper levels of their homes. Others were stuck on the roof. It's terrible.

The following clip is a BBC coverage of the rains and floods last week:

Not a nice sight to see, huh?

I was pretty glad how social media was utilized in sending immediate help to the people. Initiatives such as this online Google spreadsheet of relief centers make donating more convenient as private shops, offices, etc. and outreach agencies have become hubs for donations.

A screenshot of crowd-sourced directory of relief operations in Metro Manila. Check it here.

What also impressed me was another crowd-sourced efforts on rescue (thanks to those who started #RescuePH). By using Googledocs and thanks to Twitter, people can input information on those who need rescuing and their contact information. It's quite common that when certain people get in trouble, they start texting others thus spreading the word for such emergencies. See, in this connected world, people can still be online and mobile in the midst of disasters.

A screenshot of a RescuePH spreadsheet which was updated throughout the week.
A new or additional website has been put up.

Twitter and Facebook were burning as well, and international coverage was initially seen via tweets of Time and CNN. TLC or Travel and Living (cable) Channel in Southeast Asia also launched relief efforts to extend aid in the Philippines.

Well. These are just the news. Everyone is quite aware that people have been more vigilant compared to years ago; Ondoy was a tough lesson to all of us. But the problem really is the flooding. Dams, rivers, lakes or even ponds overflowed. The storm drainage system was already clogged up both with the rushing water and urban waste. Many people, unfortunately most of them are the urban poor, live in high-risk areas such as elevated "hills" and ranges, and riversides by way of shanty towns.

At the moment many people have come up with proposals. Paulo Alcazaren, who was actually a member of the panel during my thesis defense in UP, has been coming up with interesting sketches of elevated buildings or buildings on stilts, baranggay halls strapped with rescue boats and constructed with (in our dreams, yes) a helipad where a rescue helicopter is parked, and even a riverside design that relocates the settlers farther from the creeks. The DPWH --- albeit well-intended in thought --- made this mistake in expressing that they would "blast" informal settlers who live in the dangerous areas and waterways ---which Public Works Sec. Rogelio Singson immediately retracted after the unsurprising criticisms.

Of course, on the other end, criticisms rained. We are no stranger to people expressing views that Metro Manila sucks infrastructure-wise, that the city does not have the capacity to handle sufficiently the population (est 19 million this time, ladies and gentlemen), and so on, go on.

I do think that there are a couple of ways we can address the flooding problem not only in the Metro Manila but the rest of the country as well. Here are my humble thoughts.

1. Vast improvements of the infrastructures and utilities, and we need to unclog those waterways. This is already a given. But we need to come up with solutions based on the fact that Manila gets flooded easily not just because of problems with the drainage systems but also the fact that the water rises whether you have a good drainage system or not. Water volume is a problem. This is why one solution, I have to agree with Alcazaren, is that we need to elevate structures in flood-prone areas. However, I do think it's quite silly to elevate a road significantly whereas the houses that line it subsequently become lower, such as what they are doing now along Shaw Blvd between Acacia Lane and Nueve de Febrero. It's merely a displacement method, methinks.

2. We badly need to decentralize and create economic and social opportunities outside Metro Manila. Yes, I am going to say it: there're too many people in this city which was probably not built to handle a population of almost twenty million. For instance: I kinda have this theory that the Mezza Residences could add to the flooding problem in Sta. Mesa/Quezon City borders: the construction of those condominium towers will add to the sewerage capacity requirements of the area. Of course, an increase in population in a certain area means more waste. It DOES NOT HELP that there's a creek nearby that is supposed to serve as an immediate waterway. This also goes to those condo developments along Taft Avenue beside De la Salle University.

There has to be a consensus that urban planning and development should not be self-serving and inclined to the whims of the capital- and political-driven individuals/groups/ventures. I mean, seriously, how effective has been these developments' environmental impact assessments? Current and realistic flooding situation and flooding potential should be factored in in these tests and standards.

3. Rescue and relief have been so far, well, improved. But we do need a more organized system, especially in areas that normally do not receive help (or are hard to access). I have to applaud though the immediate rescue efforts of agencies and many NGO, outreach and private groups. PAGASA might not be the most "high-tech" weather bureau yet, but they walk with us through all these. Bravo also to those who are helping the relief efforts, from the donors to the volunteers to the relief centers, and various initiatives like the One Nation for the Sanitation initiative of the UP Red Cross Youth (yay!) and their partners. You can visit the UP RCY website for information and donation.




However, this is a SHAME:






Why why why do you have to put your faces everywhere?!!!
Are relief efforts opportunities to edge your campaign? And to think you likely used public money to buy these goods.

THESE ARE NOT YOUR PERSONAL NOR POLITICAL DONATIONS. THESE GOODS RIGHTFULLY BELONG TO THE PEOPLE. IT IS YOUR JOB TO HELP.

Gosh, and you have the nerve to name the donated rice after you.

My gulay.




4. Last but not the least... let's face it, it is, in essence, an ENVIRONMENTAL PROBLEM. We do need to plant more trees and adapt more, to use the term, "green" systems and lifestyles. Lessen the "development" by way of more responsible and strategic planning, design, and construction.

Right now, it is apparent, that everything should be with respect to the environment. The urban jungle, in order to survive, has to be green. We have to re-check the "old ways": we live in new times, the old way of looking at things may be destructive now. Do not just uproot or cut down trees just so you can cement your garden or front lawn. It's a small solution but it can go a long way.

And now, we still have rains. A typhoon is passing in the north which is sucking more southwest monsoons. Thankfully, the rains haven't been that hard but the winds have been insane. I haven't seen the sun since its brief appearance last Saturday. These are crazy times.

We have to be friendly to the environment. We do not really own these lands because, just so you know, Mother Nature can easily wash us away. This is just a mere nudge.

The Smashing Pumpkins and Oceania in Manila

This week has been exhausting.

I looked forward to this week as a surreal dive, a moment of drowning in magnificent music:  The Smashing Pumpkins, Snow Patrol and Tears for Fears all in one week, this particular week in August. Weeks before the event, however, I knew that I could not watch the August 9 performance of Snow Patrol as work would supposedly call that night. I had to accept it (although I admit I was kinda scheming a way to at least make it to Araneta Center from Newport in Pasay --- dream on). The Smashing Pumpkins ticket came as a blessing: it would be on Tuesday, August 7, and I have blocked off everything. I can say the same for fans who have been waiting for the Pumpkins to make it to the Philippine shores.

But nature had something else in mind.

Monday night and early Tuesday morning the rains fell. I was actually in the office at around 2AM Tuesday morning, in preparation of the Thursday event. We watched as the rains continued, not stopping, sometimes bursting into huge, pounding drops and then suddenly switching to a drizzle that lightly touched the pavements. Who knew that the rains would continue, in this consistent pace, for hours? I woke up Tuesday reminiscent of that Saturday morning when Ondoy hit: about half of Greater Manila was underwater. People were on roofs, houses were being washed away. And to think that wasn't even a storm.

I am lucky to live in an elevated area although the rest of the city I live in were submerged. I spent the morning online, picking up on the news. Afterwards, I noticed that the rain started to seep into my apartment via the windows, and and I went on a freakish spree, snatching up rugs and a bucket, discovering a nearly-decomposed cockroach behind the door in the process. But that episode seems like a "first world problem", considering what's happening to the rest of the country, huh.

Of course I had to check if the Smashing Pumpkins would continue their show Tuesday night. And of course, they had to postpone and sent nice words to the victims of the tragedy.

They're awesome. Really.

***

Wednesday afternoon, after work had set us free due to the rains (again) and as we set off for Araneta Center, my sister and I discussed the set list whilst listening to Oceania. I'd only listened to Oceania maybe a couple of times; actually, I had only let it play in the background. I didn't have the time to focus on the album in manner of me, fifteen years (eek) ago, singing along to Tori Amos' Girls for Pele in the middle of the night whilst grasping the album's in-lay lyrics card.

Based on what I heard, I liked Oceania. There were beats that reminded me of Siamese Twins. But I didn't really know what to expect from the Smashing Pumpkins, especially as this was their first time to ever perform here, after about two decades and a few reformations.

I have to say it would be dangerous for me to have high expectations because the last SP album I bought was Adore and I loved it a lot. But I knew, despite these years of absence, that I would have that kind of expectation, to be swept away by this specific angst that is distinct from what they produced in that era also known as "Seattle" (yes, I believe in music terms, when you hear "Seattle" it deserves a rightful, genre-ish definition).

Besides, my first web-based email address had the local client "pumpkingirl". Seriously.

***

The Smashing Pumpkins performs
the Oceania set in Manila.

The Smashing Pumpkins started their set with songs from Oceania. The huge floating globe suspended above the stage served as the screen where different dreamy visuals were projected: images relevant to the Oceania art work to those Victorian-like art the Pumpkins used during their Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness days (more particularly via the music video "Tonight, Tonight"). The set was straightforward: Billy Corgan, in all his height and impressive built, sang in his unique voice; bassist Nicole Fiorentino looked cute and sweet as she kicked-ass with her bass; guitarist Jeff Schroeder seemed the shy type as he made those riffs; and drummer Mike Byrne hit it like it was Jimmy Chamberlin sitting behind the drum set.

You don't do the mosh pit with Oceania. You can't even bob your head, not really. You sit back, eyes open, staring at the globe. That album is a trip, a journey. It's the kind of song the couple in the video "Tonight, Tonight" might be playing as they shot into space. The songs take you to a different place: sometimes somewhere unfamiliar, sometimes it takes you to the past in the form of those familiar undertones from Siamese Dreams and Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness.

Oceania is but the sum of The Smashing Pumpkins all these years.

***

Eventually it got really rocking and the crowd went wild. Every time the guys started the familiar riffs: "Today", "Bullet with Butterfly Wings", "1979", "Zero"... people went crazy. I almost lost my voice shouting the shouting parts in "x.y.u.":


I know where I can't know
I bleed for me and mine
RAT TAT TAT TAT
KA BOOM BOOM
NOW TAKE THAT 
AND SOME GOOD OLE BLISS
CAUSE I'M A SISTER
AND I'M A MOTHERFUCK!!!!

Whew.

It was amazing. Really.

The Smashing Pumpkins' entire set lasted for almost three hours, with about five songs for their encore. I was on my feet the entire time. I danced and my abs danced as well. My throat hurt. My hands were up in the air. I jumped in my wedges. My hair was everywhere.

It was such an epic night.

***

I almost cried, hoping I could hear "Rocket", "Porcelina of the Vast Oceans" and --- most especially --- "Mayonnaise", a song that would send me weeping. But I wasn't teary-eyed because it was, well, bitin. Through their songs, old and new, I witnessed the band's evolution, and mine as well. Those years when they were starting and so sure, from Gish to Siamese Dreams to Pisces Iscariot to Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness... to their loss as seen in the depressing but very substantial Adore... to the break starting in  Machina to Zeitgeist and so on. And now this.

Fool enough to almost be it

Cool enough to not quite see it 

Old enough to always feel this 

Always old, I'll always feel this

No more promise, no more sorrow

No longer will I follow

- "Mayonaise"

And I couldn't help comparing the years I started listening to them in my early teens that were starting and so sure, and then my  twenties that were adventuresome and hazy and unsure. And now this.

So this I have to say. It was a given that the Oceania Manila leg was an incredible success. But on a personal note, this is what I have to say to The Smashing Pumpkins after all these years:

Look how much we have grown.

Oh, Go Multiply Thyselves!

I am going to tell this story which I experienced about two Christmases ago.

I decided to attend the Midnight Mass one Christmas Eve. I went alone; the rest of my family stayed at home, or one of my sisters probably went to the earlier mass in another church, my mother was cooking, or my other siblings were probably getting drunk and partying somewhere. See, I am not really the kind who likes going to mass, but I still do (sometimes); I have to admit though that there are times I like going to church more when there's not much happening, just to sit inside and absorb the calmness. And religiosity is not, well, forced in our family: there are times we find ourselves going to church together, there are times we go our separate ways, and above all that, there are times I don't give a feck. See, faith is very personal to us... as individuals.

Anyway.

So I went to this church in another village. It was my first time to go there; looking back, I think this itch in me to attend the Midnight Mass that night was some kind of, quite ironically, divine intervention. The mass started: the priest went about the usual rituals. And then, came the homily.

I was expecting something meaningful that night; heck, Christmas Day would be a couple of hours away. I was expecting something along the lines of hope and joy, about the coming of Christ, about the cycle of life, that usual drift about birth and family and tradition. Well, I am not exactly the Mary Poppins kind, but I didn't really mind listening to these kinds of things with the spirit of Christmas upon you, ya know?

Then the priest started talking about his visit to the bookstore.

He said he was aghast to see books that had titles like, "Is there a God?" or "The Atheist's Manual" or "The God Particle"... and all those books that make you think. See, his argument wasn't out of offense; it wasn't because there were publications that dare to explore God's existence (or non-existence, whatever). He was disgusted that people now have access to these thoughts, thoughts that challenge Christianity, thoughts that are outside what he believes what the world should be.

And then he said, "I am glad that Filipinos are not a reading race".

True story.

Yes, the RH Bill can be a moral issue and I think the bill is also beyond the issue of choice. It is setting a framework of what the country is going to be like in the years to come. It is going to be a source of corruption, some say. Others express that it is another means to control the population. For some, it is a Pandora's Box that encourages people to do the sexy dance in manner of Saturday Night Live's "Dick in a Box"... and you know what comes next, winkwink.

I've read the debates: pro and anti, morality, allocation of resources, opportunities for corruption, the health of women, the importance of responsible parenting. It's tiring because let's face it: nobody really knows what's right or wrong. I agree that we should control the population and that we need to be progressive in these modern realities... but can we trust us, uh, "non-reading" Filipinos in the hands of --- gasp --- worldly knowledge that may --- gasp --- contest what is supposed to be Christian wisdom?

But my stand really is based on this memory, that particular Christmas Eve inside a Catholic Church that was supposed to be jinggly-janggling as Santa Claus made his way around the world. When the priest started praising us Filipinos for being ignorant, that we didn't like to read, and that we are not supposed to know certain things and that we should rely on the Church what we need to know, I did what I had to do.

I walked out of his fucking mass.

And now I leave you with "Dick in a Box"... just in case you're curious and want to step outside the box. Heh.

The Architecture of Living Alone

As I made my way home the other night, I started making decisions what to have for dinner. I started last week with a small can of corned tuna, straight from a can, and a packet of crackers. Although I could easily pop another can and rip another packet, I went to a fruit stall instead, purchased two ripe mangoes, and then finished it off with Skyflakes whilst standing by the kitchen counter. Now that was an episode called dinner.

I am the Master of My Laundry.

Those years I lived with family was a delight but I would hear a scolding, even in my twenties, if I did not eat dinner at a proper time. Although I would bark back with "(I'll have dinner) LATER!", I was expected to join the nightly, albeit small, gathering around the dinner table, not because they were desperately seeking my company but rather they were desperately wanting to clean up and wash the dishes ASAP, before the Koreanovelas begin. Skipping dinner was not an option.

Now, as I am about to mark this week my fourth year of living alone, I have started to reflect if it has been worth it: from the expenses to those bouts of loneliness that resulted to a growing number of imaginary friends (kidding). But then, to counter these supposed downsides, I can always cite Demi Moore's character's insights in St. Elmo's Fire, about getting up in the middle of the night to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and that is the best PB&J sandwich she's ever had because she made that sandwich from the ingredients found in her refrigerator, which is in her kitchen, which is in her apartment.

I came across this study by Eric Klinenberg on the single-living population in the United States; features have appeared in the New York Times and The Smithsonian, among others. Basically, the study points out that the growing number of people living alone can be also attributed to the evolution of the household, and of course, the eventual realization that living alone does not equate to being alone. Klinenberg also mentions that the feasibility and the appeal of living alone is due to the fact that we are now a society set against hyperconnectivity. How can you be alone if you're connected even while mobile? You can have almost everything with just a click away: information, connection, company... and even relationships.

In an interview with The Smithsonian, Klinenberg also mentions other drivers in addition to communication; these are the rise of women in the labor force which gives them more opportunities and capabilities to go solo; urbanization, which can be seen in the rise of "convenient" real estate and the development of urban nodes which make living alone more social than isolated; and lastly, longevity, which underlines the fact that the life span has been extending thus there are instances wherein people age alone.

When I was looking for an apartment I made it a point that the space I would move in to can contain what defines my lifestyle. I had a set of requirements; my spatial priorities in addition to the basics were as follows: a space for my work desk and a space for my bookshelf. I loved to cook, hence a kitchen with sufficient cooking area was required, and I loved to watch TV, hence an area where I can place a 27inch'er would be needed. But then, space was not enough and a rental had its limits. I took up painting at some point and ended up making small paintings that I could only prop against the wall on top of my bookshelf. I had a lot of stuff hence, I am the kind who needs storage.

Oh schnapped! Photo by Mirro Macatangay.

But then there are habits, of course, and then there are preferences which go way beyond the physical space that I occupy. When I studied architecture in college, I was a sucker for programming. I liked to imagine the life of the occupants which kinda explains why I was hooked playing god on The Sims. For years my life fits comfortably in what Klinenberg enumerated: I am an example of those drivers. I am a woman of the labor force, I have lived the life of a telecommuter before it was cool (oh, how hipster, haha!), I have occupied my time staying in coffee shops, watching movies in the theaters, and wining and dining with friends. I would drive to Fort Bonifacio during those days it was not yet a construction hell to jog around midnight, and I would meet with friends whenever just to hang out. Oh yes, those times when you just want to drink in your pajamas without judgment? Well, there you go.

What's interesting is that urbanites are starting to shape what the architecture of the city should be. Manila may pale in comparison to Western cities but with the continuous waves of the graveyard working class, thanks to the ever-thriving BPOs, the city and its architecture is being designed by new generations and the social realities they live in. I grew up in the age of Sex and the City and Bridget Jones, and I won't be surprised that women of my generation, once they are able, will push for getting their own personal corners in the city which they can call their very own, with thoughts of Carrie Bradshaw's closet and Bridget Jones's bookshelves that hold publications along the lines of Why Men Marry Bitches (not me, wahahaha!).

So what is the architecture of living alone? Is form and function enough? I remember reading a publication on the architecture of hyperreality and in a way, this is also something to consider --- say, this desire to live alone may be a mere imitation of the lives of Carrie Bradshaw and Bridget Jones, or say, for this generation, that girl from Fifty Shades of Grey (eeek). Hmm. But then, this goes way beyond that: for those of us who want to emphasize spatial privacy in this age of connection and mobility, what defines our space and structure will always be related to our physical and online networks.

At the end of the day, we are still creatures who like to connect and to communicate, to reach out to a greater world even if we just view it through screens or through smart phones in the comforts of our fifteen square meter bedroom. And when we really come down to it, this definition of space and privacy and personalization... it's like making our own little world where we plot where we eat, how we eat, what time we eat. Living alone is a process of circumscribing our own reality by means personal structures. And with such function, the form must be something that has to be connected to the rest, like a planet orbiting yet connecting to the rest of the universe.

I took a boat to get to work. Well, sort of.

One of the best things: the online Metro Manila Traffic Navigator
courtesy of the MMDA and Interaksyon TV5.

Here is one thing you need to know about Manila: you need to be dang creative to get through the traffic, to get to wherever you need to be. Manila drivers normally use the following words to survive the jam: shortcut, side streets, back roads. I use the term "secret passage"; now that I think about it, the "passage" is not so secret but it beats honking along with the mainstream. Ooh, how indie.

So this boat? It crosses Pasig River, between Mandaluyong (where I live) and Makati (where I work). The first time I heard about it was in 2007 when I met this volunteer tutor in an NGO/youth center, and somehow we talked about our living arrangements as mine was pretty interesting at that time. That was the year I first moved out and roomed with randomness in Mandaluyong. I asked her where she lived; she said that she lived in Makati. Then I think I mentioned something like, "Oh, it's not too far" and then she did say she took the boat. A boat? The only passenger boat I knew that treads Pasig River is the one along it, from the far east portions of the metro to the Old Manila proper. Then she said that she would take this small boat, made of wood, and that the boatman would pull the boat across the river via a rope that hangs between a post in Mandaluyong and a post in Makati.

Say what?

But of course, things have changed. Now the boat moves with the help of a motor and it takes less than a minute to cross. They charge you Php 4.00 for helping you avoid the traffic jam that is Edsa or the option to cross the bridge on foot via the Makati-Mandaluyong bridge. It normally takes me more than an hour to get to this part of Makati via a bus on Edsa and almost two hours to get home. This "side street-river route" is more expensive because I had to take more rides but it cuts time significantly. I was at work in less than thirty minutes.

Crossing the Pasig River via this medium was a bit exhilarating at first. The boat rocked and the massive clumps of water lilies can move fast, and I know of the tricky undercurrents of this river. But I have to say that the last two times I took the boat the river was not necessarily dirty. It's not the cleanest river in the world, but it's no longer what it was before. Well, at least the part between Makati and Mandaluyong. We wish for the same for its entire stretch.

When I rode the jeepney and thought of those number-coding days in the coming weeks, I had to think of other routes. I have another two up my sleeves, but in the meantime I am thinking that this route is the fastest one so far.

Then again, why not save up for a bicyle?

Memories of Sweet Valley (so help me god)

I cannot help but look up this new Sweet Valley series called Sweet Valley Confidential which follows the lives of them Sweet Valley folks in their late 20s. Yeah, yeah... there's Jessica and Liz, Todd and Bruce and Lila and Enid and all those people who would make you gasp whilst reading their So-Cal teen-age adventures at the tender age of twelve. I mean, Jessica's wearing a hot red bikini at sixteen and she took off her bikini top while swimming on the lake...?!!

To be honest, I was a bigger fan of the Sweet Valley Twins series, with that oh-so innocent setting of the middle school. I loved the idea of the Unicorns with their purple addiction, and one of my favorite "episodes" is the one where Winston Egbert tries for the cheering squad Boosters. I also remember the one where Jessica ties herself to a tree to save the trees behind the school, the one called Psychic Sisters, and the one where they sell love potions and everyone believes that it works.

Oh my, why do I still remember these things?!!!

I guess it cannot be helped that these memories are forever present in my consciousness, just merely buried by newer ones. When I read this article on Yahoo about the "current" lives of our favorite young adult characters from more than a decade ago, I made comments on how I remembered them. Seriously... when I read out that Steven Wakefield has come out of the closet and is now with Aaron Dallas, I went, "Wasn't Aaron Dallas a jock and Jessica's boyfriend at some point?" Ding-ding-ding-ding-diiiinnnngggg!!!

Oh to be young.

I had my share reading Sweet Valley High, of course, and I still remember those special series like The Evil Twin, which I found to be a pretty good old-school thriller. I did finally stop when I started finding the series tiring, with no resolution in sight. I mean, I know that The Simpsons has been around for more than twenty years, but there is still the point, you see? Besides, back in high school I was collecting other YA stuff, mostly the mystery thriller kind: Christopher Pike, R.L. Stine, Caroline B. Cooney and even some Lois Duncan after I fell in-love with Joan Lowery Nixon's Secret, Silent Screams. Oh, and I have this memory reading The Color Purple, Return to Peyton Place and Let's Go Play at the Adams' during those years. Take that Jessica and your string bikinis!

On a special note, I did remember feeling terribly disturbed while reading Mendal Johnson's Let's Go Play at the Adams', especially that ending that I remember to this day. Of course, I Googled the book and was not surprised that the book was generally considered "horrifying" and "disturbing". I think I read this when I was thirteen. Thirteen.

Now that I think about it, age is everything. There is that corresponding stage of understanding and exposure to a certain version of life that makes every era memorable. It compartmentalizes one's perception of reality and this parallel universe that reaches out to you to make you feel and know things. Wisdom is acquired by phases though sometimes you get walloped by it in the form of an interesting title, a cover art that catches your eye.

In that case, is Sweet Valley Confidential an adult book? I don't know. I think it's a book for Sweet Valley fans, to those who wonder whatever happened to the Wakefields and their minions. The reality of these Sweet Valley people has evolved into the realities of adulthood even though Jessica remains to be that selfish, lucky biatch whereas Elizabeth becomes more of an obvious pathetic yet manipulative biatch. But we loved them. Will we still love them now that they are adults who are still, in core, those little sociopaths who seemed to have everything? Does Jessica still have that red bikini and has Elizabeth's beauty mark faded? And why the hell did Francine Pascal kill off Winston Egbert by having him fall off a high-story balcony, of all characters, of all manners of fictional death?

Not that I am going to buy the books. And that I still care. Huh. *whoknows*

Music Streaming and an Update on Magic Mike

Of course we like to wander off and check out what else is out there. Discoveries are a gem; they may come in random or in recommended channels, but if your curiosity does not hit you will regret not clicking on the link.

Here's a rundown of my selected music discoveries today:

"Take Me Somewhere Nice" by Mogwai from the Rock Action album (2001).


I have to admit it sounds a bit like Sigur Ros (to those offended, if ever, pardon me for the comparison) but it also reminds me of Pinback's "Loro", for some reason. 


The line that hits: "A false memory / Would be everything / A denial, my éliminent"

"Follow the Map" by Mono from the Hymn to the Immortal Wind album (2008).

A pretty cinematic piece that caught my attention because of the title (I think one of my favorite words is "map"). I remember a song by some group called Mono before, but I am not sure if this is the same. Anyway, I initially suspected this would go along the Haruki Murakami world but this is far from surreal; the cut is more Departures with its obvious dramatic elements.

"Tres" by Pinback from the album Blue Screen Life (2001).

The thing with Pinback is that they seem to sing from the underground: muffled and atoned. They can be quite cryptic as well. And the thing with their songs is that you will know right away that it's Pinback. Hurrah.

The line that hits: "Sah fasa gan"... no idea what it means, haha.

"Pretty Face" by Soley from the album We Sink (2011).

What's with these North European people? They make it sound like their music float over snow. Apparently this Soley person is the Icelandic Seabear band member Sóley Stefánsdóttir. Well. You can expect fairy lights in this song grounded with some tribal-sounding bits. 


The line that hits: "Will you be my friend in my dream / Just take that pretty face I've shown me"

"Octopus" by Bloc Party, from their latest and recently released album, Four (2012).

Finally! A new set of tunes from one of my favorite boys. I am not sure if "Octopus" kicks off the new album. Although the song hasn't taken me yet in manner of "This Modern Love", "Octopus" seems to be a continuation of the Bloc Party sound --- not a drastic change, just familiar.



Finally, finally --- I saw Magic Mike last night (why do I make it sound like it's an important highlight? Haha!). I enjoyed it; I knew right away that what I was seeing was a Steven Soderbergh treatment. I had to keep my jaw from dropping every time there's a strip show. Surprised to see CSI guy Adam Rodriguez in one of the roles and was happy to see him stripping.

This image of Matthew McConaughey, in this black pussy shorts and small yellow top is hard for me to get over though!

Oh, that outfit!

I thought Magic Mike was good film; better than the usual average pieces but what I like about this is the story is simple and predictable (the inductee, the hero, the aging stripper) but set against complex relations and personal demons. I was impressed by Channing Tatum in general and I like his chemistry with Cody Horn. I guess, the thing with Soderbergh this time is that for a film about those who gyrate their crotches in every screaming female's face, he still adapted a very subtle approach and not too in-your-face. Although, again, there were moments I had to put a hand on my mouth, especially when I had to stare at numerous buttocks and packed abs and the exotic dancing na talagang bumabayo! Afterwards, I knew that after the spectacle of a strip act, you just know how cheesy it really is once you get down to what they really do.

I'd recommend any girl to watch it. Yes, including my mom and my aunts. I wonder how they'll react.

Magic Monty: On Males and Strippers

Yes, I have been to a strip club. Maybe three times. Or four.

The first time I went to one it was this, well, nice place on Timog Avenue. I was still in college and I was with college friends. Most of us were girls though we had one male pal with us, supposedly to "protect" us, but in fact we ended up protecting him. I went there as a girl who wanted to see the hardened male bodies gyrating to the cheesiest love songs (along the lines of Air Supply, mind you); I wasn't there to observe the state of humanity. It was indeed the best attitude, getting into this kind of thing.

Captured from the Magic Mike trailer.
Yes, this is how we react to the sight of a naked guy.

I enjoyed myself and ended up finding this particular stripper oh-so-cute. When the night ended, us girls who were enrolled in the premiere state university of the country compared notes as to which guy we thought was good looking, which one had the best body, which one had the most interesting looking, uh, schlong. I was probably twenty-one and as my exposure to actual naked male bodies at that time were only limited to the naked frat boys on the Oblation Run, the male strippers I saw that particular night had the best bodies I had ever seen.

Magic Mike: yes I will yes.

Years after that I did get to visit strip clubs mostly for the, well, inane purpose of finding a stripper for bridal showers. I did notice that the bodies of the male strippers I encountered then kinda declined: they were smaller, paler, less experienced. Or maybe the strippers were finally younger than me and I was no longer that girl who watched the yearly Oblation Run who shrieked at the sight of a dangling, uh, stinky pickle.

There was this one time we hired a stripper for a bridal shower and we went to this bar on Roxas Boulevard. When we talked to the manager, he lined up the available boys execution-style and shone his flashlight on each of them, saying, "Ito? Ito? O gusto ninyo 'to?" (This one? This one? Or maybe you like this one?). It was one of the most horrible feelings ever. Finally, we chose this guy and when the night finally came, I insisted we feed him and I ended up talking to him about his family and his life as a stripper. He never mentioned it, but it was implied he had a lifeline connected to someone more affluent, maybe a mamasan or a gay lover.

Them sexy things.

Anyway, as I have been thinking of relaxing this weekend after days in the wilderness and recovering from urban shock, I debated whether I should take my nephew to see Ice Age 4 or I should finally give in and watch Magic Mike. Now, why do I want to see Magic Mike? Aside from the fact that the exotic male dancers are portrayed by the likes of Matthew McConaughey, Channing Tatum, Alex Pettyfer and True Blood hot wolfman Joe Manganiello, it's directed by Steven Soderbergh, the guy who did Full Frontal, Erin Brokovich, the Ocean Eleven sequels, and one of the sexiest films ever without the usual graphic sensual scenes, Sex, Lies and Videotape with the very drippingly hot James Spader. And it has a current rating of 78% fresh rating in Rotten Tomatoes, hehe.

Although Magic Mike has all that potential, at the moment I am fiercely loyal to the best male stripper film I've seen so far: it's about this six out-of-work workers in a formerly thriving English industrial town. You know what I am talking about. To quote Todd Wilkinson's character in the movie that pretty much describes their group Hot Metal: "He's fat, you're thin, and you're both fucking ugly".

Of course, the best scene is the one where they all strip. But the one with "Hot Stuff" is freaking hilarious. The following clip alone seduces one to go watch it. Now I am itching to dig up my The Full Monty, the VCD copy!

Anyhow, with this male stripper film in the cinemas now and memories of The Full Monty flooding my head which is why I have been laughing out of nowhere, I remember this thing I read years ago, a question which can still be mind-boggling: why is it that when guys see a naked woman they suddenly fall silent while we girls start laughing at the sight of a naked guy?

Does this still ring true, now that we are constantly exposed to casual nakedness? Hmm. I should see about this bunch of naked guys and find out myself.

Where the Wild Things Go, What the Wild Things Do

Jumping off a cliff. Maton River, Apayao province.
Photo by Anna Varona.

I guess things just happen.

Finally, I have managed to go on an adventure trip with the Last Wild Bunch, the wandering force behind an upcoming kick-ass TV program. I am still stunned by it, even by memory.

Let me just enumerate this suspension; I am astonished that I ---

1. Rode a 4WD pick-up truck and crossed the back mountains of Benguet which includes numerous river crossings that are tire-deep. The thrill was that it happened in the evening. Oh, and we emerged in the province of Pangasinan afterwards and then went back to Benguet via Kennon Road.

2. Went white water rafting in a quite wild segment of the Chico River, the Tucucan-Anabel run. Glad that I didn't fall off the raft, but there were few moments I thought we'd flip over... without meaning to. Oh, and on the plus side, I took a jump into the river from a jutted rock about eight feet from the surface. Not too high but it was a rush!

3. Took part in a magnificent ride through the Mountain Province, particularly in the Barlig area. The views were astonishing: mountains, mountains everywhere! And the mountains are covered with thick forests that you just want to kneel and pray it will stay that way forever.

4. Spent the night in Barlig Centro and explored its rice terraces. It was amazing walking through the golden tiered fields, especially as a lot of them were ripe for harvest! Met very impressive people and I was so impressed by the culture. Self-preservation is inherent among them. Learned a few things about the wild plants that grow along the paddyfields and chewed on some wild mint as we balanced ourselves on the dike which is at least six feet above from the next paddy.

5. Traveled all the way from Barlig, Mountain Province to Apayao via Banawe-Nueva Vizcaya-Isabela-Cagayan Valley. That was insane. The trip lasted as long as going to the Mountain Province straight from Manila that we had to spend the night in Tuguegarao. We had the option to travel via Barlig-Natonin-Paracelis and then Kalinga province, but due to the previous bad weather we didn't want to risk it because of the road conditions. Actually, the morning we left Barlig they had to clear a small portion of the road due to a landslide; and to think it merely rained for an hour or so the night before.

6. Apayao, in itself, can pass as a statement. First of all, I didn't know that Apayao was already a separated province from Kalinga; I studied parts of Luzon and it used to be Kalinga-Apayao... back in grade school (haha). Second, who would have thought that Apayao is such an amazing place? Speaking of, say, perceptions I thought Apayao was just a boring province with mountains and an interesting history involving head hunters and the usual "threats" that come in the form of the New People's Army. But what the heck. That province is such a wonder.

7. Went spelunking in the Lussok Cave. One of the best cave mouths I've seen although unfortunately there are portions of the cave that were vandalized. The challenge in entering though is one has to swim or ride a small boat. We didn't have the latter, hence, we started swimming. From the swim you climb up and then you get an amazing visual ambience: the glistening wet ceiling, the different hues of gold and brown, the brilliance of the greenish water. Oh, and the stalagmites actually made my imagination run wild; they gave me the impression that a lot of dead souls have settled in this cave.


8. Rapelled inside the Lussok Cave as we reached the last cavern we explored. It was probably a 50-60 feet drop. It had been a couple of years since I did any rapelling, but the rock face was a challenge. I lost my balance and ended up slamming on the side when my foot slipped inside my slippers thus I lost my footing. I was a bit shaken but afterwards I wanted to shout WHOA!


9. Tasted the gamey Apayao cuisine. They still serve dog in this province although--- "legally" --- for special occasions only. They served us bayawak (monitor lizard), duck cooked in blood stew, and tons of chopped and spicy pork insides. Same with the other portions of Cordilleras we visited in this trip, we encountered pork kilawin which is pork cooked in vinaigrette, similar to a ceviche. When we camped in Nagan River the locals served us the fruits of the river wild: frog, fresh water eels, and these fresh river prawns known as udang (I think, haha). The porters picked betel nut straight from the tree and they chewed away while trekking. We had wild boar in this small community at the mouth of the sanctuary which the locals caught the day before. The food, in my opinion, is quite wild and gamey, a sign that the hunters' blood still run strong among the Apayao people.


10. Trekked the Agora Wildlife Sanctuary. Wow. This place is unbelievable. It is a lowland forest, very thick with a very impressive ecosystem. Sightings of the Philippine Eagle have been confirmed; in fact, the Philippine Eagle Foundation went up the rocky mountains of Agora the same afternoon we made our way to camp in the rocky riverbank of Nagan River. The hike is dry but muddied until you get into the forested area. The trails were wet and mossy, there were several "river" crossings, and we managed to stop by a few portions of the Nagan River which is incredible. There is actually a part where a huge boulder sits in the middle of the river and a huge tree has sprout out of it. Believe me, it's like a fairytale.

My shoes and I have been through a lot. Taken during its last
full mountain trek. Cinco Picos, Zambales, 2010.

11. Lost my two beloved trekking footwear :-( I was wearing my Merrel hiking shoes until we got to the small community/camp at the mouth of the sanctuary. I then noticed that the sole was broken due to the heavy mud (oh, and of course my shoes were already five years old). I had to leave the shoes in the camp and then change into my Sandugo outdoor sandals. Twenty minutes into the continuation of the hike the strap got broken thanks to the mud. The porters were kind enough to lend my their slippers and they had to walk barefoot the entire time. I had been thinking of getting new ones but I never thought that I'd leave both of them in wilderness of Apayao. The locals were so kind.


12. Experienced one of the most amazing night skies ever during camp in Nagan River. The camp itself was a challenge; to get there we had to cross the river, waist-high. The moment we settled it suddenly rained. One of the guys feared that the water would rise that he had to make markers. The water did rise almost to the critical level (as he marked it) but eventually it receded. The rain ended, the locals cooked a very tasty dish of freshly caught river prawns, and we watched the stars as a bonfire roared on. And I saw this amazing shooting star that only two of us at camp saw: it looked like a meteor and it's pretty near the earth, and then suddenly it split into three. It looked like a mini one-directional explosion, if there is such a thing. It was a few seconds of wonder.


13. Rode a bamboo raft on our way down the Nagan River. Actually, in addition to the rowers and the supplies we brought, I was the only one who rode it because of its size. My guide/escort and the local porters commanded me to ride because I was so slow, thanks to the oversized slippers I had to use and the very slippery non-existent trail we took which forced the troop to walk on muddier trails and slippery boulders with moments of crawling on the side of river cliffs and swimming across the other bank. I felt quite guilty, to be honest, but it was an incredible ride. I looked up the canopy of trees and saw tons of birds and different-colored dragonflies. It was a different kind of wild white water rafting. I had to suggest to the Apayao tourism officer to make an activity out of it as part of their tourism promotion.


14. Drank too much mountain spring water which I love. I am probably magical right now.


15. Had one of the most scenic drives: the drive back to Manila consisted of the beautiful northern Luzon coastline which gave us a view of Claveria, Cagayan Valley and then Pagudpud as we took the Apayao-Cagayan-Ilocos route. It was a very long drive but there were perks that our eyes feasted on. When you think about it, the trip in itself is like one of those ultimate roadtrips. After all those days in the mountains, I couldn't help but shriek at the sight of the sea.


Well. I just wrote from memory. I cannot believe I am back in the city. But I really stand by what I said in a previous entry: I am not "back to reality". This whole thing has been my reality, from that moments I landed on my ass in Agora when I slipped downhill to this very moment sitting in my apartment in Mandaluyong, with the high pile of laundry and the Hip-Hop Abs DVD waiting for me just so I can keep the blood pumping.


No wonder I am seriously considering joining the UP Mountaineers this year. I need some excitement. Besides, I think I was sold on this ad they posted on Facebook:

"Sis, am I going to find my true love in U.P. Mountaineers?"
Answer: Go to the orientation. There are many broken hearts who get into sports instead.

HAHAHA!


Unfortunately, I couldn't attend the orientation; however, in times like these, I always remind myself of this line from James Joyce's The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man:


"But you cannot have a green rose. But perhaps somewhere in the world you could."


An'labo.