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.