All the Water Forms in Bolinao, Pangasinan Philippines (2019)
Are you in the Philippines, particularly its center Manila, and you do want some R&R but have limited time, budget, distance, and energy to spare? Also, are you feeling all the blues and you just want to soak it all in the sea (or by the beach, at least), but you’ve also seen this vlog with a gorgeous waterfall that really got you crave for a cliff-jump (because you’re one heck of an adventure soul), but then suddenly you just want to enjoy a calming river cruise while chowing on a big plate of seafood because you’ve realized you’re not into swimming in the rain at a beach with your best-kept swimwear? Then, I’ve got a place for you. I now sound like advertising it, but no, I’m not paid to do so. I just had the same questions to myself some weeks ago, with the answer YES to all of those questions. And if you feel a YES, too, then you’re at the right reading place.
Sea. Falls. River. If you are a water junkie (not sure if there’s such a term, and argh, such a hippie word), Bolinao, Pangasinan might be the one you should be heading to right now. Imagine those three bodies of water in just one town? Sure, other places have them, too, but not in a very close distance to each other, especially being close to Manila. Well, a 45-minute plane ride to some other provinces is technically, 45 minutes only, but we know the entire travel (and hassle, plus plane jitters) is not just 45 minutes.
So, Bolinao is a six-hour bus trip from Manila ( Victory Liner or Five Star Bus; the latter having more schedules). You can basically sleep through your journey if you want to miss the provincial scenery. Upon arriving, a tricycle ride (sorry, no taxi/Grab/Uber or what-have-you here) can take you to your resort. You may want to pay a visit first, though, to one of the oldest churches a few walks away from the terminal and eat in one of the eateries at the back of the church if you fancy a hot (really tasty) bulalo (beef soup?). Then, voila. you can now sleep at your resort! Kidding. Of course, no time to waste, start exploring!
You may ask the trike driver to have a quick sidetrip to the Patar Lighthouse on your way to your resort or when you’re heading to Patar Beach. The area and structure doesn’t look old and the facade is cleanly maintained.
So, the first water form– the beach. Patar Beach doesn’t boast of a fine white sand beach or an amazingly blue-green sea, but the colors the sunset brings is magnificent. You can just sit on the sand and wait till dusk swallows all the reasons why you’re here in the first place…if you’re in the emo mood.
The morning after, you should be more refreshed and energy-packed because you will really need some energy to climb up and down some trails to your next water destination: falls. But no worries, it’s just a five-minute trek from where the trike is parked. And when you finally see them, yes them, as there is a set of three nearby falls to swim your heart out or cliff-jump if you really must.
Once you get all the feels now from that waterfall love, you may want to eat. Eat seafood. And eat the best calamares and addicting chicharong shrimp and fat-in-belly-fat bangus/milkfish, and oh, crabs. Where? Just by a river. Your third body of water. On a floating resto or a cruise… while a live acoustic singer is patronizing your senti feels doing When You Say Nothing At All (again, if you’re in the emo mood). Sungayan Grill is the name of the place, by the way.
Now, if you still crave for some water after all that and a relaxing swim to end the day before you head back to the metro, you can book a semi-budget bed-and-breakfast accommodation at Casa Almarenzo. The catch? Infinity pool. Now you decide.
All in all, Bolinao is truly a smart weekend trip for anyone, whether Manila-based or not. Aside from those bodies of water I mentioned, there are other worthwhile places to see and activities to do here, like caves and coral reef sanctuaries. You can even head to the nearby town of Hundred Islands if you have a little more than a weekend to spare.
For some video about Bolinao, basically a summary of this post but live, you may want to watch this:
You’re welcome. And feel free to get back to me when you get there. 🙂
Exploring the Hundred Islands, Pangasinan in Black & White
Tell me anyone who isn’t captivated by colors, and I’d say he or she is more than blind. Even the blind are fascinated by colors. I once had a job interview for a BPO company which had an account serving the visually-challenged, and one of the (tough) questions was how I could explain colors to people who do not posses the sense of sight. I don’t remember now how and what I replied, but if you’re curious, I didn’t get the job– not entirely because of my answer, I suppose. Back to colors, though.
Recently, I saw an episode (entitled “In Living Color“) of Brain Games on National Geo, and it claimed that “color is just an illusion created by the brain.” It further explained “the colors that we perceive inside our brains—and the significance that we attach to them—sometimes diverge from the wavelengths of light that exist in reality.” Sounds technically complicated, right? But watching the entire show, I could only say “creepy,” learning that our own brain was just actually fooling us and that there are certain things, and people, in our environment that we don’t know are messing with our perception of things. In short, what we see is not what we really get… especially when it comes to color, which also plays our mind. It isn’t all bad, though, as we can manipulate it, too, to our advantage. Also, the ideas pointed out in the presentation can mean that there is really no “color blindness,” only that the people with the said condition have a set of colors different from the ones ordinary people know; the same thing goes with the visually impaired who might be seeing hues that others are void of. And I could have had a more impressive response in the interview had I known these points early.
There were several other “truths,” interesting experiments, and cool games (!) presented in the episode that you would want to watch for yourself, if you haven’t, to understand more how color works, or to just pass your time exclaiming “oh, cmon.” But the thing that stood out for me was the reality that we live in color, and we hardly acknowledge the beauty of it unless we are a child receiving our first box of Crayola excitedly taking out our coloring books, a painter contemplating in front of a canvas, a lady accepting a bouquet of roses and saying yes to the giver (another trivia: red is the color of high-level of testosterone, while yellow is sex), or a photographer (professional or a wanna-be like me) detailing every single little thing, even dirt, as something significantly beautiful. And why not? Every thing that exists is beautiful. Sprinkle a little more color, then that thing will come alive.
Naturally, we are drawn to vibrant colors. The more hues there are, the more attractive the objects are. However, every shade affects our emotion and brings significance to how we view life. I love how the clean blue sky littered with white clouds on bright days calms me, how the changing of blue seas to green when I come near it elicits my sense of wonder, and how a yellow banana gives me hope for a better health. Then again, based on the Nat Geo show, I’m just tricked. But so what?
In lieu of the “color” topic, I have had two weeks going back and forth deciding for my post (like it was a more important thing to decide on than what shirt color goes well with colorful platform pumps) about an enchanting place I visited two weeks ago. It was the waters, nature, landscape, and they would surely be laid out pretty in their color. However, this black-and-white theme has been tempting me, too. I have tried a little of it in some posts, and I’ve thought of doing an entire photography post applying only the said style. I used to be judgmental about photo bloggers who utilized the monochrome effect. I thought they were taking away the life of the scene or the subject. In contrast, I adored those who have nice, fancy cameras and color editing tools that make their works stand out. But I’ve come to know black-and-white better, thanks to blog.mingthein.com and a walk with my camera, and to WordPress, in general. I’ve gotten hooked to the crispiness and texture the theme captures and have learned a little about what subjects go well with it. Now, I like both types of photography, color-wise. I know they say, you have to be faithful to one style so that you’ll give an identity to your blog, and that it’s either you’re black or white. But I’d say, why not black AND white?
I’m afraid my chatter above has overshadowed the subject of this post, which is The Hundred Islands Park in Pangasinan, Philippines. I wouldn’t want to showcase it less, despite using the black-white theme. Trust me you can find more than a hundred reasons to love the place if you are keen like us, photographers (wink wink). And even if there are only two colors present, the scenes are enough to signal your brain where to pop out the blue, the green, and the “wow.” And who knows? They might not really be only black and white as they appear to be.
Lucap Wharf, the entry point to the islands. Where you register at the local Tourism office (P80) and find a boat and accommodation and sign up for activities. Of course, there are outside spotters whom you can bargain with.
Boats loitering the area. The tower is one of the prominent spots that visitors could climb before; now, according to the trike driver, it was with electrical wires, so don’t attempt.
Arriving late afternoon, we immediately ventured into our first set of islands. There are two sets of service boats: P800 for the three most popular (and populated) islands, and the other P1400 for islands-all-you-can.
I asked one of our boat guys if he was still amazed of the sights, he said he’s used to them. But I think this boy above, who was the son of our main guide, still had that sense of awe.
And who wouldn’t be delighted by the eerie yet inviting scenery tempting you to explore what is behind and beyond it.
Quezon Island: one of the three main islands where swimming is ideal because of the absence of big rocks in the water. The other two are Children’s (ideal for children’s swimming) and Governor’s, where you can climb to a 126 steps cemented stairs to have a glimpse of the stunning islets.
Being only four to five hours away from Manila, the place is a favorite location for mermaid-themed movies and TV series.
This was once the house of local TV’s “Big Brother.” The sign wasn’t anymore there, but Kuya is (spot him).
This was one of the roughest part of the sea where our middle-sized boat almost jumped up and down. The guide said the other side, not so far from where we were, was already part of the South China Sea.
One of the highlights of the trip. Seeing the sun set so close I could almost reach it. Maybe I was overreacting, but the hues, the feel, the mystery of how it was there and how I was here made me shed some tears. I watched the sun till it disappeared from my sight.
Some caving the next day.
The Bat Island. The bats were outside their cave and basking in the sun but asleep, mimicking the twigs and leaves of the almost-barren tree.
This kid, eight. Sunshine. That’s her name. While we put on helmets just to see the view underwater, she effortlessly jumped to the big ocean and into the surface below playing with the fish which also seemed to enjoy her company. She also accompanied me in some short trekking and in the shallow waters while laughing at my inability to swim. I jokingly bribed her P20 to get my camera from the boat, but she insisted P50. I refused and had her brother get it for me, and then she raced with him to get it ending up crying when her brother got the camera first, but the brother pissed by her crying gave it to her eventually. She settled for P20 (seriously, it was part of our tip; she and her two brothers went with her father who was our boatman/guide; when we finished the tour, her mother was waiting for them in a pedicab full of souvenir items; she was also waiting for us and sold us some; the simplicity of their life despite the apparent day-to-day struggles that have made them stick together as a family is one miracle these days). She enjoyed being my photographer. I asked if she had Facebook and thank God, she didn’t know it yet. But I hope she would not be content of where she was; seeing her assertiveness and strong will, I have faith she’d go great places.
One of the activities: helmet-diving. Since scuba diving needs certification first, we settled for this, and it was nonetheless breath-taking. I am scared of the deep water, do not know how to swim, and do not want to die. My brave friend motivated me to do it, saying “we’re already here, what is there to be afraid of.” I screamed “a lot” in my mind, but the next thing I knew, one of the diver-guides pushed me already while the other held my helmet for a while as I descended, maybe noticing that I forgot the instructions. And there it was– absolute beauty. Fish coming to my direction, Nemos, big clams I tried to touch, the sand underwater that my feet could still feel, the sounds below even if the pressure was paining my ears, the thrill that overcame my fear. It was love. At first dive. But I had to go up to scream how I was feeling that time.
And then, I got kissed by a fish. Or my helmet.
Baguio’s Finest
Baguio in the Philippines is a popular destination for tourists and fresh produce buyers. The city’s six to seven hours north of Manila. And it was my first time to visit the city a month ago. I was lucky to catch the last week of its Panagbenga (Flower) Festival. The parades were over, but a friend told me it was just fine to miss them since I might not be able to handle the crowd anyway. It was still pretty crowded because of bazaars, exhibits, and shows and because of the fact that it’s a touristy area. I, together with my co-worker, checked out most of the common spots through commute and a lot of asking. Many have been written and shown about Baguio, but since it was my first visit there, all that the place allowed me to experience in two days were definitely unique. The cold, the houses by the cliffs, the pine trees, the touch and smell of the wind, and the way it calmed my system make me want to come back there soon.
There are a lot more to showcase, but below are some of the things that delighted my sight.
PARKS, PLACES, & PINE TREES
Burnham Park. stroll, bicycle, boat your way to a stress-free afternoon as the lovely trees and calming breeze embrace you.
People are waiting from morning for a show of the stars of a hit pre-afternoon TV series. The stars came out in the evening.
Lourdes Grotto. The place, which also serves as a retreat center, is Jesuit-owned.
The sights at the Mines View Park.
Mansions as stunning as the question of how they were built just along the edges and cliffs, and the fear for earthquakes.
The Baguio Cathedral.
The Botanical Garden.
Wright Park. If you want to enjoy some horse-back riding. We witnessed somebody falling hard, though, when we passed by it on our way back from the Mansion.
I gave myself a thumb-up, too, as it was my first time to ride a horse without falling, although I did it with a guide. Nevertheless, a thumb-up. (but no same smile as the kid’s)
The path leading to the Mansion. Who’s mansion? The president’s, when he or she is having some time off.
COLORFUL BUYS
A mix of delightful, delicious, religious, random, and sometimes obscene stuff for sale. Most are from Session Road.
Baguio Night Market, Harrison Road.
BLOOMS, BEES, & ALL THAT’S BEAUTY
We’ve also visited other sites like the PMA camp, Tam-awan Village, and the markets. Unfortunately, my camera’s battery ran out. The first two were also interesting places despite their distance from the city proper. And if you want to try fresh, affordable vegetables, fruit, daing na bangus, longganisa, and others, then don’t miss out Baguio’s big market.
Summer has kicked off, and I think the sunny smile of the flower above should convince you enough that Baguio is one of the destinations that should be in your list.
sunset suicide
bayside. the pleasing warm breeze on your skin. the light air kiss-brushing your hair away. the calm waters seemingly mirroring the stars of the coming evening. the play of bright-to-dark orange in the horizon. the perfectly contoured visage of the lone Mountain from afar. and its lover Sun on His way down with rays so blinding they’re beautiful.
and then there’s the people. crowds of them. so, you realize you’re not alone. or you are alone.
parks and baysides can eat up a solo stroller. last sunday on my home from a nearby province, i decided to drop by this mall by the bay and get some snack. i knew it would be a crowded afternoon with families, groups, and romantics “enjoying” each other’s company. still, i thought it would be a good chance to have some sunset-viewing. but being surrounded with people who, beforehand, knew they came because they wanted to feel fun, forced me to question my own purpose for being in the same place as theirs, and eventually, my own purpose in the place called life.
but is it a sin to not have a purpose? i’ve heard of setting goals, aspirations, and dream-boards to get what you want. my school echoes to always strive for excellence. to be successful. to be happy. but why do we, humans, crave for “happy”? why do we need to be happy? is it not okay to just experience things as they are? or is happiness only a trick to escape the usuals and to gear us up for misery?
science might have an answer. but what does it matter? i came only for the sunset, and i stood amazed of it.
Wedding: The Barrio Way
We were supposed to take the bus which would leave before dusk, but since we were aiming for a cheaper cost, we waited for the 8 PM schedule (don’t ask me why it’s cheaper; i don’t know either). I have traveled before. Even on a plane. So what’s an eight-or-so-hour ride to the hometown of my mother? Vomit. That is. But I’m a three-year old kid, so it would not be that gross. Consider my mother’s.
That pukey situation did not kill my excitement, though. For months, me and my sister had been so excited looking forward to have a change of environment, temporarily leaving the provincial feel of our home to go to, well, another province. But it would be different. There would be my other cousins, my aunts and uncles, my grandmothers, and my great grandmother. It would be a riot. Especially for my great grandmother who, although loves our presence there, hates to be bothered with even the littlest noise, and me and my cousins would make a lot of big noise because we had missed each other and we would play a lot. And there would be a wedding. Since the bride’s house, where the reception would be held, was near the sea, there would be beach time, too (big smile on my cute face). And that was why we came. The beach. Noo, i meant the wedding. My Ate was a flower girl. And I? I was there for the beach. I didn’t envy her at all.
We arrived. And everyone seemed busy already.
My family was on the groom’s side. Just like most cultures (I’m just guessing since I’m only a kid), it is the groom’s party here that should prepare everything and spend for everything (I hope that this tradition remains when it is my time to wed, that is, if weddings are still a thing in the future). On the eve of the wedding, the group already went to the bride’s home. A small red truck plus a jeepney carried for them pigs, chairs, gowns and suits, utensils, decors, and of course, the gin, which I know only because I had seen it with my father. It was amazing to see the willingness and cooperation of everyone.
The wedding’s eve was not only meant for the preparations. I learned that it was also part of the tradition to have a sort of a dance party or a small ball the night of its eve. This would also be an opportunity for the soon-to-be husband-and-wife to start collecting money- like gifts- from attendees. And here, it didn’t matter if the groom saw the bride the night before the occasion. It wasn’t a bad omen. Just one good night of fun. And no fancy dresses were even required. We just danced.
The freezing cold woke me up early the next day. Despite that, I enjoyed the view of the sea at the back of the cottage one good relative provided us. But my Ate enjoyed it more because instead of readying herself for the church- getting dressed, make-up, and all- she still had the guts to join our cousins jogging by the beach and savor the fresh breeze along with the view of the sunrise-kissed seascape. And I? I had to drink my milk.
Off to the church. It was a simple wedding. The number of people though, present here is much less than the number of people who ate at the free dinner the previous night, and I was guessing even less than the ones who would come after the church ceremony. It was generally quiet. Maybe because the officiating priest threatened reminded the parents to control their children. I didn’t really see who cried and who didn’t in both parties, except for one ring-bearer who, if was not making a sudden yell, was giving a sudden shriek. I didn’t really care. I was playing somewhere, except when my mother was able to control me, especially toward the end of the ceremony. How come there was no you-may-kiss-the-bride declaration of the priest just like how it is in the movies? I guess it was the photographer’s task. Anyhow, while my mother carried me, tired from roaming around the church, I contented myself watching the couple and the entourage do some interesting, sometimes awkward, poses the cameraman instructed them to do. Creative, nonetheless.
Feeling hungry, I was already pestering my mother on our way back to the bride’s house, the reception venue. A line of makeshift tables surrounded by some red and white balloons, paper flowers, and other decorations that made the area somehow glow with color greeted the visitors. Some were not invited, but they came anyway because these days, as my aunt put it, it is rare to hold the reception in the bride’s house, even in this seemingly old-fashioned place. Most were joining the bandwagon, and more practical way, of bringing the celebration in a cozy restaurant. Or they just don’t get married at all. The number of “eaters” was overwhelming making the place crowded that you could already lose your appetite. But who would have thought the food was tasty? I wanted cake, though, but my mother insisted it was only for the couple (and the mustache man?).
After the food, dancing started along with other activities common to any Catholic weddings. We had ice cream outside the area, so I didn’t get to see the entirety. We came back and witnessed only the throwing of the garter and afterwards, the speeches. But now, I saw who cried.
We headed back to our cottage to prepare for the next part. The swim. I didn’t know how to yet, so I just played at the shallowest part of the water. It was clear at this part of the year since the beach was not yet crowded by many people who dirty it. We actually owned the sea that day. We were the only ones there. I was still begging my mother to stay but she just told me we would come back the next day. Little by little, I am beginning to learn lies.
After half-a-day of rest, we packed again. This time, we had to go back home. I might not anymore remember this occasion in the future since my brain is still that small to retain memories. But I know, somehow, a part of it will remain in me. It might not be the details, but the feel of it. Something will always make me seek this place of “happy.” With the sea, the breeze, the warmness of people. With family- the very reason why my Uncle Rio and now-Aunt Fe married, for the rest of their life.
Hello, 2014: 14 (Un)Posted from 2013
quezon.manila.camarines sur.ilocos.rizal.bohol.PHILIPPINES.
i’m ready for you, 2014.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Community (The Departed)
six feet under. what do they have to offer?
is it the same with what they have above them?
blue, green, and serene?
or just the soil’s smell of nothing?
Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light (Ilocos, Philippines)
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/11/29/photo-challenge-lights/
“There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.”
– Charles Dickens
The lamp posts heading to the cobble-stoned streets of the Heritage Village in Vigan, Ilocos Sur were not the kinds that could illuminate all of the place’s dark corners. Although my companion and I barely knew the place, and it was at night, we still felt safe trying to locate the historic Calle Crisologo. While doing so, interesting Christmas lights displays and old lamp posts provided a sense of awe that kept us away from the fear of getting lost. Most of all, the friendly Ilocanos we asked for directions lit our way making us truly appreciate the place and gain another valuable experience.
The Bangui Windmills (second to the last photo) are one of Ilocos’s energy resources, the power that provides light to homes in this part of the country, while, the Cape Bojeador Lighthouse (last photo), through its flickering light at night, guides seafarers in this part of the South China Sea. The topmost part of this structure, though, is already close to visitors. Our guide mentioned that the province is planning to put up a new lighthouse in one of the hills near the Kapurpurawan Rock Formation. Let there be more lights then.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Layers
layers…
of balance. of grace. of faith. of strength. of oneness.
“Banga” literally mean pots. The Banga or pot dance is a contemporary performance of Kalinga of the Mountain Province in the Philippines. This dance illustrate the languid grace of a tribe otherwise known as fierce warriors. Heavy earthen pots, as many as seven or eight at a time, are balanced on the heads of maidens as they trudge to the beat of the “gangsa” or wind chimes displaying their stamina and strength as they go about their daily task of fetching water and balancing the banga. (http://www.seasite.niu.edu/Tagalog/Cynthia/philippine_dances_cordillera.htm)
At present, the Philippines is again at a place where our faith and strength are tested. But just like this dance, we try our best to remain collected and to keep standing. We may be swaying off grace at some point, but we will never lose it. We refuse to fall. But we will not refuse your help or compassion to get through these hard times. And for your prayers, a big “thank you.”
Until we dance again.
Nanay (juana)
She noticed her suddenly getting busy that one afternoon while she was lazying herself toying with her point-and-shoot in the small hammock. It was rather unusual for her seeing her busy like that. Whenever she visits them, which is rarely, she normally sees her lying on the rickety wooden bed just by the door of their crumbling wooden house. She doesn’t mind if she shares the bed with her two cats, both tied for her own reason, one just got birth to four kittens who would soon be disposed to different households. She sometimes hear her snore, which calms her because she knows she’s in a deep, sound sleep, undisturbed by the chaos she’s loathed all these years. She surmises that when she doesn’t make any sound, she’s just there lying, appearing peaceful, but all the worries and frustrations are filling her restless mind. A thirty-something woman’s mind is a bucket filled with those, who knows how much of them overflow from the mind of a soon-to-be centenarian?
She then heard her call her name and was obliged to get inside the house.
She did not change her house dress, a worn-out yellow sleeveless shirt and red-green floral shorts, but she saw her glimmer with these white, or silver, (not-so-authentic) jewelry pieces on her neck, ears, wrists, and fingers. After boasting about them being a gift from her youngest child, she asked her to take a photo of her in that set.
She jokingly asked her why she was not wearing her glittery blue semi-gown her sister gave her, the dress she said she would want to be buried in once the time comes, but she blamed herself for not initiating and letting the old woman have the guts to ask for the shoot.
But she has lots of it, guts. She is never shy. She sings in front of many people if she desires. She dances in front of many people even if she’s half-naked at times. She is never the one who holds her thoughts back from anyone even if she’s not right. Her children and grandchildren cringe when she fights with others and even if she does it for them. She also fights her offspring and grandkids themselves (who are all scared of her at one point in their lives) if she feels they are disobeying or disrespecting her in any way.
But who could question the old lady’s character? When one was raised by a strict mother, was educated only up to the second grade being told that like carabaos, one could survive without further education, married at puberty during the time of war, buried a supposed-to-be only son after days of giving birth to him, buried one husband after another, worked on her own to feed six daughters, one of which she also buried after years of being in an abusive marriage, and has battled almost one hundred years of the daily ins-and-outs of life coping, or failing to cope, with the weathers of times, who wouldn’t be that tough?
And now she wonders, tough as she believes herself to be, will she ever reach her time? Being educated as far as she had dreamed of and being able to cope with the changing times, will she be able to survive sixty more years of the ups and downs of the world’s turmoil-driven setting? Will she ever have that chance of having one love that would give her a family she could work her butt off for? Or will she be there, too, on a rickety bamboo bed, trying to sleep her troubles away? Or will she be in a corner of some confinement together with others like her, or with no one somewhere under the sun begging for anything that would keep her sane? But does she really want that? To reach her time?
Despite her age and being the oldest among her siblings, despite being almost blind, despite the regrets and the failed dreams, one can still see “life” in her. She doesn’t have any conditions that would force her to be bed-ridden. She can still walk around every morning and every late afternoon sometimes accompanying her ailing younger sister. She can still notice the little things annoying to her and nag or rant about such. She can still wish that one of her offspring would put her in a big house and make her be called “rich.” (Years ago, she exchanged her roadside lot, now costing a million, with 300 pesos and a radio, which was a symbol of status during that time.) She still wishes that one day, she and all her offspring would be in one place and live together again. Most of all, she can still seek simple joys from simple things like being photographed by her, presumably, favorite grandchild.
She counted 1-2-3, uttered “smile,” then clicked it.
Who said she could trick her with the count and impose a smile on her? She managed, though, to take another shot.
And there it was, the kind of smile she got from her.
She is certain that she will be happy when she sees these herself in printed copies.
Weekly Photo Challenge: One Shot, Two Ways
The Stand of Lapu-lapu, Rizal Park Manila
(A monument of whom we consider as our nation’s first hero. In the books, we know Lapu-lapu as the brave ruler of Mactan- an island in the Visayas, Philippines- who resisted the first wave of Spanish colonization particularly led by the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan. On the streets, ask any one the question “Who killed Magellan?” and you’ll immediately hear his infamous name. After him, many have followed vowing to protect our gentle little nation.
Despite the controversy this 40-foot bronze statue stirred when it was erected in the park named after another national hero, it will always serve as a reminder of how we should be as Filipinos– standing tall.)
And below is not my not-so glam stand as reflected inside this lamp pole’s globe in my fun attempt for the challenge: a portrait of that globe and the encapsulated landscape of the place by the entrance gate of the Manila Zoo.
For more interpretations, check out the Weekly Challenge.
Village of the Sea
How easy life is by the sea.
Wake up as soon as dawn does, and prepare for office.
Before the daily grind, be sure to attend the brief ceremony and take part in waving your national pride.
Then, you’re all set for work. Take out your tool.
Some projects, you do by team.
And some, you just have to do alone to be ahead in the competition.
Sometimes though, it just has to be a family affair.
So that at the end of day’s work, you sell some and be eager to come home knowing that you’re bringing something to the table.
Of course, you do not forget your faith. To thank the One Above for another day of a smooth-going life.
And don’t forget, too, to have some little R&R.
How easy it is to live by the sea.
You always see how your dreams and hopes are glistened by the Sun.
Daily Prompt: Take Care, Motherland
Tomorrow, June 12, is another celebration for you. It is just fitting then to pay tribute to you and try to the best of my ability to “feel” the significance of this celebration– the commemoration of your, as they declare, 115th Independence Day.
How are you now with that independence?
First of all, 14 years of schooling me about how you achieved that independence instilled in me that pride I know you wish all your children to have. Yes, I still remember po how you were almost fooled by one conqueror from Spain when you welcomed him and his troops in one of your pristine islands that one sunny day in 1521. Thanks to our brother Lapu-lapu who successfully took care securing that almost lost independence. And as an act of appreciation to this brother, we, the succeeding generations, graciously named a place and one fish after him, and sometimes fondly use him in some of our jokes’ punchlines.
After that bloody battle in Mactan that Lapu-lapu led, numerous other battles took place because several other “visitors” posing as “friends” took over you, raped you, and killed many of your children who would not let you to be totally broken.
And then, as history puts it, with the bravery (most resulted in death) of your men and women, we succeeded. You prevailed.
Or have you?
Hundred years more later, are we still proud of you? Are you proud of what we have become? Do you still feel our care?
I am happy to say, motherland, that we still enjoy the freedom that the past has passed on us. But I hope you don’t mind that despite rejecting the idea of being a part of another nation, we’ve not been selfish entertaining remnants of these conquerors’ influences, like how we adore the pop cultures of the West and some of our neighbors in the East more than our own kundiman and OPM (original pinoy music) and Tagalog films, how we spend our hard-earned money on Starbucks instead of the simple kapeng barako, and how we live a Western lifestyle far different from our grandparents’ traditional ways. On the contrary, you should be proud because unlike your fellow Third World “mothers,” we’re updated with the present technology, only that that technology is not ours. Facebook, Instagram, Hollywood buzz… we are ahead in these nonetheless. We really take advantage of the Internet the West has introduced to us. But don’t worry, we’re not going to give in to these pleasures and give you up. Yes, we entertain “visitors” with our well-known sweet Filipino hospitality but we know our limits. Of course, we can’t just easily give your lands to them; we only let them manage those lands. For taxes. We would not also let someone from the outside to come in and bring bad things, like that some African guy in the news the other night who tried to bring drugs in your land by swallowing them up so the immigration would not see. Government would not let him though. They are housing him now in some clinic, feeding him with papaya for him to poop those capsules of drugs. Poor guy. And that Dan Brown who declared your city as “gates of hell” in his book? We don’t believe him, of course. But he should thank us because he’s sold many copies here since the controversy.
On a sadder note, motherland, many of your children have chosen to go to other lands for a better pasture, they say. I know they should not leave you like that, but I could not really blame them. I admit, I, too, have that desire of leaving you for the same reason and for other personal reasons. Apparently, many of your children do not have enough trust in our present “heroes,” those who are chosen and are supposed to take care of those underprivileged and forsaken. Sadly, most of those “heroes” just battle each other in debates and petty arguments instead of fighting the bigger enemy of the present time, poverty. With your independence, we have the freedom to choose our leaders, but for decades now, the same problems just tend to multiply.
I am at a fault, too. I once promised you to help educate my kind, but I opted to take a different path. We all have our share of neglecting you, I know. And I will not be surprised if one day history repeats itself– loss of independence because of land grabbing. We don’t know how to fight now and whether we still have that ability to battle. We ought to be scared and to prepare because of some silent threats, but we’d rather update our online profiles.
Please don’t be depressed. It’s not all bad. I know like me, you have faith in each of us, that we only need a point to trigger our unity and courage once again. I, we, just hope that that point does not anymore entail bloody battles. We have enough monuments for the heroes of our past. Help us have leaders who live the right path and help you be vibrant once more.
For now, let us celebrate. It is your day, in the first place. There will be official celebrations for you in the higher seats, but for most of us, whom you grant a day off our exhausting jobs, we might just be enjoying tomorrow by waking up late and later on, being in some karaoke bar belting our lungs out to Frank Sinatra’s I Did It My Way, or crying our broken hearts out to the local song Pusong Bato. For some of us, the nation’s woes are way too big to put our hands on. Pardon if we’d shamelessly wallow on our little personal issues rather than really taking care of your bigger concerns for our own bigger benefits. Because sometimes apathy can be quite comforting. But please, don’t let us stay in that useless state.
Take care of us, motherland.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Color
roses oozing red, fields scattering greens, sunset on a horizon of orange, sheets of clean white, balloons smiling yellow, skies and seas of blue serenity, the deep brown in my grandma’s eyes that even though do not anymore behold this beauty the same way that i do, still reflect life… these are just some of my favorite things that bear the colors i love to see and that i goal to capture more of soon.
for now, here’s my take on this week’s challenge. being part of the crowd of these colorful people enjoying a dolphin show last year in Thailand brought a different kind of joy in me. as a kid who grew up with mostly the colors of poverty, i never dreamed of traveling outside my country because i knew it would be one of those dreams that would just leave me disappointed. when this undreamt dream came true last year, the joy it brought me inspired me to never underestimate the power of dreaming and working hard for it. much more joy when i got to blend with people of different colors. it was a humbling, challenging (with the language barrier), and enriching experience. sometimes, this kind of color that race brings sets boundaries, elicits fear and hatred, and even fuels wars. opportunities like this when you get to meet and be with different “colors” lessen if not totally remove the prejudice. but i hope that even though not all people get the same chance, we would all see that not one color is more vivid than another. white, black, brown, yellow… let us just appreciate the difference and stop the indifference. like the song goes, it’s a small world after all. and it should be a colorful world.
there should only be one color that shines through the world, and that is the color of love.
Life On A Day: A Twist On the Weekly Photo Challenge
I want to participate in this week’s “A Day In My Life” challenge; however, since a typical day for me is something that does not interest me so, i don’t have the energy yet to share about it. I hope though I could still share something about it that what is worth of words. I still have a week.
For now, I have a post about a break from my typical days, which gave a sort of life to my everyday living because this day gave me some joy being away from work, city life, and stress. I don’t hate my usual days; even stress drives me more, but that feeling of BEING away and not seeing the usual things gave me a sense of self-love. I so needed this break, too, after undergoing a minor surgery and surviving it, thank you Lord (I might also write about that ordeal as a follow-up to my ‘medical paranoia’ post).
So where did I spend that much-needed break?
Rizal province. A little more than two hours away from Manila, specifically from Shaw Starmall where my brother, our cousin, and I kick started our mini-day-tour with a commuter van costing us 70 pesos each to our first destination, Daranak Falls in Tanay. I just want to put the photos now before this post is again taken over by my usual wordiness.
the one where we were here looked the same as that one before us.
we had some more meters to walk after the trike driver, whom we paid 150 pesos, dropped us off saying he couldn’t anymore go farther. we thought he was just lazy since there were still vehicles passing our way. dusty (especially the uncemented part), sweaty, me panting. but i welcomed the walking since it’s still exercise.
… and this beauty erased that resentment we had toward the driver.
a staircase to the Grotto of Mama Mary. we didn’t attempt to go there and climb it since i know it would cause me a day or two of being bed-ridden. my legs are old for climbing. they’re even hurting as of the moment of writing because of all the walking we had on this day.
finally, we reached the main entrance and proceeded to paying 20 pesos per head. the picnic huts and tables were already full and rented, so we just looked for a place where we ate and rested for a while before heading to the falls. and discovering other areas.
I thought we were still early coming in at around 8 AM, but the place was already crowded. It was a holiday, so we expected this. I myself was making the most out of the holiday that was why I still decided to go. The noise was a bit frustrating because I didn’t feel that much the serenity I was craving for, but the feeling this natural beauty gave me overshadowed that minor setback.
I wasn’t able to go to main part of the falls though since I was afraid to make my way to it. I can’t swim. I wouldn’t trust my life on the “salbabida” I rented. Just the part of passing and walking through the slippery rocks almost made me give up to even touch the falls’ water. I overheard the policeman telling a guy asking that the water on the main part is 30 feet, or 13 feet maybe… either one of them, it is still way more than twice my height. I just contented myself feeling the moment of being close to that natural wonder, shooting anything that caught my eyes, and watching some people with their “tricks.”
satisfied on the side where my feet can still feel something underneath them. it’s strange because 5 more steps away from the side, then it’s already 5 feet deep.
I left the place with a satisfied feeling. I might visit Daranak again (or its sister falls, Batlag) on a less crowded day. So far, this is the most affordable and nearest tour I had.
I didn’t forget that this Friday was also the Lord’s Day. When I was a child, my folks told the children to just stay at home and sit on this day because Jesus died for our sins. I saw that that tradition was totally different now based on the people in Daranak maximizing the day taking their vacation and the busy streets and roads we passed through going home. I don’t know how to feel about that since I myself was not anymore just sitting on this day, but I would never fail to thank God for His love and sacrifices on any days. Before we left the province, we went to Antipolo Church and I thanked God for giving me this day to be closer to Him through His gift of nature, to feel His presence in His home, and to appreciate His gift of life more.
preparing for the procession.
I hope everyone has a fruitful Holy Week. God Bless.
It Takes a Man And a Woman: A Say On the Filipino Rom-Com
It is Black Saturday, the first showing day of the third installment of the Laida-Miggy series, and this early you know that this is going to be a replay of the success of the previous two films. The lines were longer than those of the G.I. Joe movie and The Host. The cinemas in the mall where we initially planned to see the movie had tickets already sold out. Good thing another mall was just beside it, so our plan was not totally ruined, but the lines were also long. The confidence the producers have on the film was right on even if no premiere night was hold and with less time promoting it compared to the last two. And why not? The moment the two faces appeared on the screen, you could already feel the ‘excited vibe’ of the entire theater. Everybody was engaged in it. The audience took part as the movie progressed. From the arrival and unveiling of Laida Version 2.0, where the audience had a laugh trip with her “moving on” antics toward Miggy, and ‘Zoila and friends’ (Matet-Gio-Joross) adding in to the funny riot of the exes, to the forced comeback of ‘old’ Laida, where the audience (or at least, me) cried feeling her struggles of testing herself whether she truly has moved on by confronting her past. Sarah Geronimo did a better job with her role now. The part (spoiler) where she started to cry without any words said while looking at John Lloyd’s character singing to her was believable (as opposed to her previous O.A. and ‘pilit’ acts in Part 1 and 2), and even the daughter-father forgiveness scene was tear-inducing, if not for Sarah’s adlib at the end of the scene. This time, you can already feel her connection to the character and truly “gave in” to her one true love, John Lloyd’s character.
The movie was very relatable. Anyone who has undergone a break-up or experiences the daily struggles of a relationship would really feel both the characters’ emotions. Also, this time, all the support characters were given a fair share for the audience to know better. It is also fun seeing that everyone of them took part in bringing ‘the happy ending’ our protagonists rightfully deserve… except of course, Belle, the third party, but even she was not portrayed as hateable and even had her own moments. This third installment takes the audience back to the beginning of the love story we’ve so adored, explains what happened during the time we waited for their comeback to the big screen, and brings us (another spoiler) to New York. The way the story ended the way it started is effective enough for the audience to exclaim “awww.” For the reflective aspect, the lesson is centered on forgiveness and accepting one’s shortcomings before truly loving the person. It also shows the true sense of change, maturing, and growing by keeping one’s original values in life.
Of course, this kind of story is one we only wish would happen in our reality. Thus, you would want to see this because you are a fan of the series, you love the movie stars, you want to de-stress, or you want to bring your optimism back to “love,” the fairy-tale kind.
There might be not-so-positive reviews soon attacking how commercialized the film is, especially with product placements here and there and its overused plot, but if you were part of the audience today, you’d feel only positivity in the air, and that for me, was enough to say that what I paid for is truly “sulit.”
P.S. For the fans of the loveteam, you’re in for a treat and you’d root for them again to be together in real life. Sarah will surprise you here. 🙂 And the bloopers… just watch now before I spoil for you the rest of the movie.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Future Tense
and so we begin with this.
hardly touching hands, barely hearing what we say. not caring at all.
but that smile? yes, mine. can you see?
and oh, my heart singing. scared you’ve been listening to all along.
i want you to hear, believe me.
but the present’s more stable, let’s just stay there.
and savor, freeze our moment.
for now, let me walk you to your dreams.
for i know when the right time comes, the right words shall flow.
Phoneography Challenge: Neighborhood
Guadalupe, Makati City, Philippines
… definitely not during the rush hours.
Nothing special, right? Seeing the place at this viewpoint though, I didn’t know it is capable of being this laid back. I won’t show the ‘reckless’ side of it. Or maybe I might someday. Or maybe, you come visit the place and see for yourself. Just one friendly advice. Do it when it’s all busy, messy, and noisy. I like that side of the place more, too, when I am in it (and that’s on a daily basis: first, before 5 AM when I’m office-bound, and the other when I’m home-bound, sometimes before 5 AM, too). Why? Well, if you want to be safe.
Of oral health and medical paranoia
I finally faced one of my fears last week.
I had put off going to the dentist for two years because I believe my last visit had caused the once tiny sore in my inner right cheek to enlarge after being hit by the careless, I think neophyte, dentist I saw. In the past, I wrote about my hesitation to go to the doctor for either a consultation or medication. I’ve always thought either my mother or a traditional doctor could fix whatever bad I feel. But I know a dental appointment is necessary. I actually don’t fear the pain. What I don’t like is the expensive cost (especially that our company’s Health card only shoulders the basics) and the self-shame brought by the confirmation that I don’t have a very good set of teeth now. I sometimes blame myself for not taking care of my biters much when I was a child up to my teenage years when chocolates and junk snacks were the ultimate rewards for my achievements. Now, I have to face whatever dental nightmare I have.
And so I went to a clinic last week. I had the cleaning part, but I just wanted to know what the dentist would say about this pea-sized circle in the inner part of my right cheek. I had my guesses already since I had researched about it. I might already know what it is, but I need an expert’s words. He was not sure, he said. Great. I was tempted to relay to him all that I had read but I knew some medical people are annoyed with smart aleck patients. He said I have to undergo an x-ray, and then, maybe a surgical removal of the thing if the x-ray supports his guess. He also said I might already need dentures because he surmised the lack of bony support in some areas of my mouth could be causing the condition. Another great.
I was still hesitant to do his recommendations. First, I am skeptic about x-rays because of the effects of their radiation. Second, I am more skeptic about surgeries because they’re, well, surgeries. And so, my reading began. What I just wanted to get was something that would tell me that I should not worry about my worries. But of course, I would get both the “anti” and the “pro”, and what I got made me worry more. Great, again. I chose to trust one of the answers I got when I e-mailed a question about the effects of radiation from x-rays to a medical site especially that I also needed to get a chest x-ray the same week for work permit purposes. A doctor responded:
“I have received the question you sent to the American Association of Physicists in Medicine regarding your x-ray procedures. There are a couple of things to keep in mind. First, radiation from an x-ray source such as for your chest x-ray or the dental x-ray is localized just to the area that they are looking at. In this way, it works sort of like sunshine: you can only get a tan if the sun is shining on that part of the skin; the part that’s not exposed doesn’t get tanned. So there is no relationship between a chest x-ray and dental x-rays. Secondly, the dose from each one is actually so low that, if there is truly any risk at all, it is so small as to be completely dwarfed by any other daily risks or the natural occurrence of cancer. I hope this helps.”
With this disclaimer: “The opinions expressed in this message are the product of the gray and white matter loitering in my cranium. I speak for myself and no one else, unless I say otherwise.“
Hmm.
I went for the dental x-ray. I walked in without any thought or sign of nervousness or idea of how the test would be done. I thought it was just like the one that checks the state of your lungs wherein you’d be asked to take your top off and replace it with that ‘gown’, face a machine, breathe in for some seconds (which also makes me paranoid), breathe out, and wholla, done! But no. It was a moving x-ray machine! It was an x-ray robot! Not only that. I was like locked in the machine after I was asked to bite that rod-like thing, and then was told not to move while the machine does its thing seemingly extracting something from me or imprinting something in me, which made me think that if I did, either I or the machine would explode. I’m not exaggerating. Panic really crept into my brain when the machine started to warm up especially that the woman who prepared me for it left the small room I was in after she did her routinary tasks. What if something wrong happened, who would save me? What if I moved? What if that thing I saw in the movie Saw because of a similar machine happened to me (body shattered into pieces… and so, think hard whether you would let your child watch the movie)? To the machine’s dismay, my reflex moved me the moment the sound of the revolving thing entered my ears and started to deafen my system also causing my jaw to lock for some long seconds while my sane reasoning and utmost desire to be orally healthy tried to keep me from giving in to that black stillness that was starting to show not far from where I was standing at that point. I didn’t even have the chance to tell myself, “Think of happy thoughts. Think of happy thoughts.” I didn’t know FEAR could be that robotic monster with marking lights that would seep through the tiniest particles in one’s mind and eat the person’s sanity up if welcomed fully. With a little prayer, I was later successful to shut my door to it.
not me. a google search result for “panoramic dental x-ray.”
But you know what was even more “exciting”? I had to do the test again right after the first one. Agony, fear, panic, paranoia times two. The first one apparently didn’t show a clear result of the inside of my mouth. I mind-shouted at the woman. I don’t know why I was blaming here. But was the error caused by my accidental movement? I don’t remember if the woman responded to that query. The second time though I realized I just had to close my eyes. Soon (although it felt more like the opposite), the test was over, but still not in a smooth way. I had the confident thought the second time that I already knew the machine, and yeah, the fear it brings, but a part of the machine touched my shoulder when it was completing its 360-degree turn. I was scared that I had to do it again increasing my fear of dying from radiation. Thankfully, the radiologist said the film was already acceptably clear. A big sigh, not much of relief though because after the test, every sudden jerk with even only little pain my body created caused me to think, because of my radiation scare, that I was doomed.
This week, I went back to the dentist, who told me, based on the x-ray, that two teeth have to be extracted, that a surgery should be done for the lump (his hypothesis: a fibroma) that will then be sent for biopsy, and dentures should already be placed in the toothless areas of my mouth. Great, for the nth time. I am still young for this– dentures, that is. And can/do you kiss with them on? (Just asking.)
I did the first must-do. No fear and only little pain, and no thanks to the anesthesia since I felt the numbness after the extraction was over. I will never be in good terms with these technologies.
I know that I am somehow over reacting to this medical situation I am in right now. I have a 50+-year-old friend who underwent several operations already, and she seems perfectly fine. She was also one of my moral support in this. So I tell myself now that I really should worry less or not at all. Think of her. Think of Pi (even if he’s fictional). Think of the family in The Impossible (which I really want to write about but still haven’t). They all survived much more physical pain and scary predicaments; mine must be a needle prick compared to theirs even if I say it’s a prick from a huge needle because still, how dare me.
I will be back to the dentist for surgery next week. I am not afraid of the impending pain but of the thought of undergoing surgery. I’ll be doing it anyways because I do not want that thought to continue making me down and because I look forward to writing about how it’s successfully over.
and this i saw just outside the mall (Taguig’s Market Market) where i had the x-ray, and which i also look forward to riding with my kid cousins after the operation. 🙂
Weekly Photo Challenge: Forward (Like Stripe Does)
Sometimes, you join them go up the trail unsure why you do it and what awaits you when you get there. There- somewhere unfamiliar, something that brings a sense of thrilling anxiety.
So, you go forward.
And what do you find?
Sometimes, nothing… or almost something, but then you’re not allowed to get to the beautiful part of that something. or at least, not yet.
So, you content yourself standing, viewing from afar, taking all bits of that beauty-from-afar that your limited 360 degree-view can get and hoping that that glimpse satisfies you enough. And you dare take a picture of it to savor that ‘I’m almost there’ or ‘I almost get it’ feeling. Even if it says, “No picture, please.”
Because you have to capture some reminder of your almost-glory. To remind you that even if you get somewhere, you know you still have to join the others and continue moving. forward.
I was actually reminded of the inspiring message of the book above (Stripe’s journey) when I learned this week’s photo challenge theme… the message that has always been a reminder for me to fear not, to not lose hope along the way, and to continue moving without stepping on anyone because somewhere someday, something beautiful awaits.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Home(less)
“home. since they say, it is where the heart is, i’ll find my true home once i find my heart.”
not my home, or house. just some surviving house a little right across the space i occupy at present, which i also cannot sentimentally call ‘my home.’ in fact, i do not have any place or physical structure that i can call as such. although i did write a bit about my hometown (my mother’s, and where i spent a decade for education and a few years building a profession that i eventually left), i feel guilty sometimes calling it mine. although it doesn’t complain, i don’t think i still have the right to call it ‘my home’ for i am always somewhere else. in the last few years, i treat it as ‘my retreat house’ because i go there only if i need some, yes, retreating. but i do not have any resentment toward not having a home that i call mine. i like how i have transferred from one town, city, or house to another in my entire existence, and i am even itching right now to move again, if not only for the very cheap cost of the very small space i am currently renting in the very expensive city in this metro i’ve insisted myself into. my aunt was telling my mother that with my present salary, i could already afford to buy a house somewhere in the outskirts of the city. i did try already, but i didn’t continue even if it meant wasting some hard-earned money. i couldn’t commit to more than a year of relationship with a love interest, what makes me think i can for 20-25 years with a Realtor?
back to the house above (photo). it just interested me one lazy afternoon while looking by my room’s window railings. it is sandwiched between tall buildings and modern apartments (which i unfortunately wasn’t able to accurately capture because of the limits of my location), and as you can see, by scary electrical wirings (… calling MERALCO). not a long time ago, this kind of house is already the standard amongst the well-off in the philippines. right now though, it is just trying to survive. it may seem a little out-of-place considering its ‘neighbors,’ but it appears to still stay strong despite some parts being in tatters. and beautiful, i suppose, especially to the family it shelters, the one which calls it home.
in the pink of 
Recent Comments