Sagada

This was written after my trip to Sagada on June 2006.


Have you ever seen coffins hanging from a cliff?

The hanging coffins in Echo Valley are just among the many unforgettable sites you will see in Sagada, a little quaint town, in Mountain Province. Since college, I have been wanting to visit the place. At last, I had the perfect opportunity on June 12-14, 2006 to go to Sagada. (Thanks Ta for letting me tag along)

There are several options to go to Sagada, we chose the route via Banaue so that we can have a glimpse of the world famous terraces. From Banaue, we took a jeepney to Sagada, which is at least four hours (of very rough road) from Banaue. Although, it is only a few kilometers away, the road is really tricky since we have to pass by very narrow roads carved from the slope of the mountain. As we enjoy the scenery, I can’t help but be amazed by the beauty of the rugged terrain.

At first sight, I fell in love with Sagada. The place offers a lot… from rice terraces, rocky terrain, waterfalls, centuries-old burial caves and caves with beautiful formations, rice terraces, local weaving and hanging coffins. Most of the locals express themselves better in English than in Filipino(Tagalog). To make the most of our two-day stay, after freshening up after a 13-hour road trip, we set out for Sumaging cave, the cave was just a 20-minute walk from the town proper. It was very cold inside the cave, with ice-cold water flowing everywhere, you can see your companion’s body seemingly smokin’ cold not hot. You can literally see the person’s body heat radiating. The formations inside the cave were breathtaking. What you have to do get inside the cave was a bit of a challenge, you have to crawl your way into really small holes and use a rope to get to higher ground. We found out later that we can opt not to rappel. But I think that added more to the adventure. It was definitely quite an experience. I have been inside caves before but nothing prepared me for this marvelous encounter.

After our exhilarating cave adventure, we indulged on good food in Yoghurt House and St. Joseph’s café where you will taste the freshest vegetables in the country. The following day, we
hiked to one of the biggest falls in Sagada. It took us an hour to go to the big falls (We rode on top of the jeepney, my first time). When they say, it is the trip not the destination. This is an epitome of this saying. The view that you will see on your way to the falls is really breathtaking, seeing the waterfalls is anticlimactic though. It’s a big waterfalls but nothing extra-ordinary. So far, this trek was one of the most difficult I’ve been in so far. Going back, same way but opposite direction, uphill. Some of my companions were so tired that they did not go with us to Echo Valley and hanging coffins. Igorots place their dead in hanging coffins. The Echo Valley Hanging Coffins are hung from the limestone cliff using slabs driven into the rocks.
Two full days were not enough to enjoy the beauty of the place. Sagada has a little of everything. This is one place where I would want to grow old. Sagada, is just one of the places that affirms the fact that we live in a very beautiful country.

P.S.

I went back to Sagada a few months later on February 2007.

a river runs through it

If London has Thames, Bangkok has Chao Phraya, Vienna has Danube and Paris has Seine, Manila also has a river that runs through it…..Pasig.

Cruising along the river is like having a colonoscopy, an invasive procedure which allows a different view of something very close to my heart. I got to know the city in a different way. When I rode the Pasig ferry last May, the experience was an eye-opener for me. Growing up, all I heard about this river is how dirty it has become. The water is not crystal clear now but thanks to the efforts of several agencies particularly the Pasig River Rehabilitation Commission, Asian Development Bank and Danish International Development Assistance, things have improved significantly since that Smokey Mountain song “Anak ng Pasig” was released. There are less floating garbage and less informal settlers. I was also pleasantly surprised by the modernity of the first ferry station I saw, the Guadalupe station.

This is an unfinished entry meant to be completed by someone else who has captured the moment better than I did and who can weave words more creatively than I ever can.

worst analogies

These are my personal picks among the winners of the "worst analogies ever written in a high school essay" contest run by the Washington Post:

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. (Unknown)

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree. (Jack Bross, Chevy Chase)

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. (Jennifer Hart, Arlington)

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play. (Barbara Fetherolf, Alexandria)

"He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something."

"The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant."








Source: http://www.etni.org.il/farside/analogies.htm

of Everest and Lego

I’m not a mountaineer. I haven’t even reached any mountain peak, but there’s something about Mt. Everest that evokes bizarre emotions from me. After watching a movie about a blind man (Erik Weihenmayer) scaling Everest last night, I have reached a decision. No, I’m not planning on conquering Everest. I decided to determine my own summit. A line in the movie which struck me is “What’s your summit?” I fell in love with the movie after hearing that line. Nothing ground-breaking, just a simple statement, each individual has a different summit to scale.

Like little children given a set of Lego blocks to work with. Each is given a unique set, no set alike. Some may be given enough Lego blocks to build a mountain, while, some may just have been given enough to build a hill. So our summits are expected to be different. Erik’s Dad summit is the Everest base camp. After reaching that, he turned back, that’s how far his Lego blocks can take him. And he was happy and satisfied. For him, that is the top of his world.

Erik was not given his sense of sight, (that’s one big chunk of Lego missing!), not a prerequisite to mountain climbing but it is critical. He was given much less than what most of us have been given. His summit can just be learning how to wall climb but he decided it to be much higher, as a matter of fact, the highest peak in the world.

Each person’s summit is not only determined by his own set of Lego blocks but also by his determination to go beyond his limitations and stretch the resources he’s been given. God-willing, a person’s summit can only be as high as his vision and his own belief on himself.

Your summit can be Mt. Everest itself or it can be reaching your 30th birthday or going to the moon. Or it can be learning to love yourself or figuring out what to do with your life. Whatever it is, I know I just have to determine what mine is, because it’s there.

pen or sword

Our own history tells of a classic battle between these two mediums of combat. One plays on the mind while the other, takes a more physical form of combat.


By choosing the pen, I have opted to use a more diplomatic means of resolving a problem. Taking on a sword means to attack every situation, ready to pounce without giving diplomacy to work its magic.


I personally am a person who’d rather settle things as amicably as possible to avoid conflict. Before, when I had fights with my siblings and friends, I would usually write to them. Although, things won’t get resolved immediately (coz email’s not yet available then), I believe my relationships did not deteriorate because I tried to reach out first using words first instead of challenging them to a fight.


By using the pen, you would have lesser chances of people getting physically hurt unless the pen will be used for stabbing. And nobody really wins in any war, not to mention that there’ll be a lot of collateral damage. In a fight against my siblings, I would be less likely to win because they all outsize me. Especially if you don’t have the resources, better disarm your enemy first by words. But not necessarily hurtful words, rather, they may be words trying to reach out to the aggrieved party. It doesn’t matter who’s at fault or not. Words, like fire, can soften even the hardest of metals (well not really but sounds nice to me...)


Sometimes, a situation calls for a combination of both mediums. Not all persons can effectively use the pen, not all persons are adept in combat skills. You may use the words first to assuage the other party. And then let the sword or maybe just the threat of using the sword do the finshing touches. (ain't no Machiavelli)


Are you Jose Rizal or Andres Bonifacio? Well, as they say, each person has his own strengths and weaknesses. For me, Jose Rizal used the pen to convey his message since he can effectively wield the power of his pen. His words may have convinced a lot of people to take on a sword to fight for our freedom. In my case, there were no Spaniards to fight with but I believe with words, you can move the hearts of your adversaries to submission. Unless of course your adversaries have hearts of steel or have no hearts at all. That’s another story.


And who’s considered our national hero? Jose Rizal, someone who preferred the pen over the sword. (Or maybe because the Americans brainwashed us so that we’ll submit to them without a fight) To each his own. But as for me, I believe that the pen is mightier than the sword. And there’s always James Bond’s pen.

my new crush

I have a new crush. He's big, white, and really clean. And he also has a very feminine feature on the side, big flowers. Mannrose Liner.That's his real name. My latest crush is a bus.

My heart skips a beat whenever I see it. For reasons I cannot explain, the sight of this new clean bus plying the streets of Makati inspires me. Maybe it's the fact that it's the first time I have seen a nice clean bus in the Metro. With all those second-hand Korean and Japanese buses scattered all over the city, it's quite refreshing to see this rare sight.

The bus philosophy

But there's more to my unexplainable affinity to this bus. It’s a silver lining behind these dark clouds of hopelessness looming all over us. However disheartening our situation might be, especially with everything that’s been happening all around, it’s uplifting to see something different, something unexpected ………that along our crowded thoroughfares, a nice clean bus may come along….
Even if we only see old dilapidated buses for now, we just have to wait and make sure we won’t miss the nice bus when it finally passes by

Yakal

This was written on my last day in Yakal Residence Hall (March 29, 2002)


Today seems like another ordinary day. But for me, today is not just any other day. This is my very last day as a dormer in my home away from home. My refuge during rigorous episodes of my college life. I could distinctly remember the time I got accepted in Yakal. I clearly remember the rush of emotions I went through knowing that I finally have a place to stay. My only concern for that moment was to have a place to stay while studying. I didn’t expect it to be a start of a five-year relationship.

Now as I attempt to savor my last few hours as a dormer I would like to capture this moment by writing. This moment presents a flurry of heart-rending emotions which if not put into writing, I know will eventually pass. I would move on. Time will help me get over this I know. And as I reminisce in this desolate place (only three of us are left in this 380-person dormitory) what will I miss most in this place are the people who have become a part of my life here. Countless individuals whose faces will be forever etched in my heart. They make up my recollection of Yakal. In time, each of us may go his/her own path. They will just be a part of my memories of a place that I considered my second home. But there are some who would stay. Some bonds are unbreakable as they say but things wouldn’t be the same the next time I’m going to enter this place, I would be a visitor. I couldn’t even go beyond the lobby anymore. I would have to use the CR for visitors not because it’s the nearest one, it’s because I have no choice. If ever I pay a visit to my friends at night, I would have to leave at 8:00 pm. Eventually, I’ll get used to that set-up. As of now, that is unthinkable.

A deafening silence resonates from this place. The basketball court, a hang-out for most of the boys, is empty except for dried leaves and the volleyball net. This is where I had countless encounters with several of my crushes. This place is the venue of my “breaks” while studying. Though most often I spent the whole night watching games, I can recall one time when I almost missed an exam because I got so engrossed watching a game.

I would miss the long corridor of this dorm which I have traversed countless times; how my boisterous alarm clock which bugged a lot of wingmates because of its annoying alarm. How can I forget the times I sneaked watching TV fooling myself often that they will just be 20-minute breaks while studying and the conversations until the wee hours of the morning. Those long walks toward “Lutong Bahay” with grumbling stomachs and the mile-long line. Several layers of “plastic” you have to sift through before you can savor your extra-cheap meal from the Engineering cart… And who could forget those pretty serious conversations about our many love problems? Most importantly, with these memories are the friends who joined me along the way. As I leave this place, there will come a time when these memories would be my only link to this world and of course the bonds I have formed with my friends. Friends who have made these memories worth treasuring. As much as I would like to think that Yakal won’t be the same without me, I know that next year, these experiences will be happening to someone else. New bonds of friendship would be formed. Yeah, next year, another day in Yakal would not include me. But even if next year a day in Yakal wouldn’t include me, I will find comfort in the thought that the friends I have found in this place would have special places in my heart. And if there will come a time, that some ties would be broken, I would still find solace in the thought that they have once been a part of my life… that once our paths have crossed and may eventually cross again. For now, I would like to believe that these ties cannot be broken… That the next time we meet, it will just be like another day in Yakal.

traveling

I love seeing new places. Well actually not only seeing but experiencing new places. Who doesn’t? I guess it’s being in unfamiliar territory, it’s the possibility of being surprised by new things. Whether it being pleasantly surprised or not so pleasantly surprised, traveling lets me experience how people from other places try to go about their daily lives. And traveling also lets me realize that we all have something in common. The humanity of an individual transcends race, age and background. Although I haven’t been to so many places so far, I feel blessed to have the opportunity to see a few. And I especially love hearing stories from people from other places and friends who’ve lived in other places.

my pet peeves

In no particular order of disgust…..

Bilo-bilo sa ginatan
Maraming tao sa Mall
Hopia na baboy at mongo
Very colorful friendster pages
Fault-finding freakazoids
Unappreciative creatures
Insufferable know-it-alls (like me? hehe)
Holier than thou pips (guilty)

my glorietta 2 experience

It has been more than six months since God led Tata and I, away from danger.....and here's my account of the incident

I had a lunch date with my friend Tata at Glorietta. She had been at the mall with her brother since 10:00AM that Friday, and they parted ways around 12:30PM. I was on leave, so I took my sweet time getting to the mall. Meanwhile, my friend whiled away the time at Glorietta 2, trying out clothes and bracelets at the Atrium.

I may have reached the mall around 1:10PM, just as my friend finished trying out a dress at Plains and Prints. It was around 20 minutes before the fateful incident.

Tata then moved to The Bead Shop where we agreed to meet up. She tried out some trinkets while waiting.

“Glorietta 1. lapit sa YRYS and cindy and carol.” was her text message.

My friend was mistaken; The Bead Shop was in fact located at G2. But we both didn't realize this at the time. Tata simply relied on the only guide signage she saw closest to the Bead Shop, and that signage said "Glorietta 1", so that was what she texted me.

Looking back, that “Glorietta 1” guide signage may have saved my life.

Anyhow, I went straight to the center of G1 but I wasn’t able to find The Bead Shop. I asked for directions and a salesperson pointed me towards G2. For some reason, I doubted his instruction.

I could’ve gone straight to G2 from G1 but some unseen hand seemed to guide me back to the mall’s Activity Center. I remember asking myself why I was going that way when the salesperson could be right, that The Bead Shop could be at G2.

Still, I followed where the unseen hand seemed to lead me and found myself at the Activity Center where there is a customer service booth. Meanwhile, I got another text message from Tata saying, “G2 pala.”

Before I could even ask the lady at the customer service booth for the exact location of the shop, I heard an explosion and the sound of breaking glass. Smoke and dust emerged from the corridors of G2. People were running and screaming. I ran as fast I could to the nearest exit, G1.

Nearing the exit, I still felt so unsafe and exposed since I had no idea what I was running away from. I feared I could be running towards a more dangerous zone. So I stopped just outside the mall and looked back in time to see an old lady trip on her way out the door. Had there been more people running, she could’ve been crushed in a stampede. But thank God there were only a few people in that particular area and a guard was able to swiftly help her up.

Then I saw a girl right behind me who suffered some minor cuts, probably caused by shards of glass, just before pandemonium broke out again. People started screaming and running again. Still unaware of what everyone was fleeing from, I ran anyway towards SM where I finally met up with my friend.

Retracing my steps, I realized that God was watching over us that day. He allowed my friend to see the "Glorietta 1" signage which caused our confusion and ultimately led us away from the heart of the blast. The Atrium, where Tata bid her time, was completely blown away but not before she stepped out of the place to get to The Bead Shop. It was still a very close call for her--- The Bead Shop was just three stores away from the Atrium--- but she was nevertheless unharmed.

Tata said that during the minutes of waiting, she almost wanted to text me for a change in rendezvous--- a store familiar to both of us and one we’ve made a meeting point before--– Plains and Prints. We all know what became of this shop after the blast.

God’s unseen hand guided us to safety. In a weird way, I am thankful for the experience. I was reminded of how short life is, that I should value each moment and focus on things that really matter.

smoking weed

Why do some people resort to smoking weed to get away from it all? Or are they just bored? Or is it because it makes them feel cool? Whatever their reason is, who am I to judge?

But is saddens me to think that we sometimes have to resort to actvities that would destroy our God-given bodies to make us forget about the harsh realities of life.