how am i?

i guess this is the time of the year when everyone turns back to where they have started. and i will not deny the fact that its been a while since i have posted an entry here.

it has been two years since i have decided to come up with a lifelist. and surprisingly, i was able to accomplish most of it. and while drafting this, i was able to cross out another one.

a saving's account. thanks to my boss who is trying to be a father to me for more than a year now. he ordered our finance manager to open me up one and argued that i need to be mature enough to think of my future. you will not believe what he tells me everyday at work, on top of business.

for the past months, i am just busy with work. probably, because i already have a team to manage and did not realize how difficult it is.

basically, i go to work at 8 and usually leave by 9 or 11 in the evening; that is from monday to saturday. but despite these, i am not complaining. in fact, if i did not write this post i will not realize that i have been doing this for the longest time now. lets just say i am simply enjoying what i am doing now because of what i have experienced before with the jobs that i really did not like doing (which i also chose not to dwell anymore).

last weekend, i had the chance to go to singapore and watch a broadway play that i always wanted to see, aside from rent and the phantom of the opera. it was wicked. the play just left me wordless whenever someone ask how was it. it was just too nice to be spoiled. but the trip also made me realize, a number of things i never expected will happen at least to me.

traversing this rich city opened me to a lot of things and even the possibility of working abroad, which i never really entertained before. the city provides almost everything a young professional would dream of, which simply equates to a more promising career. but beyond this, i decided not to be very hasty with my decision. try not to go with what other young people like me did.

honestly, my boss was a bit hesitant in allowing me to go to singapore. i knew he feared that i may not come back like what happened to his staff before me.

i am not even sure if what he told me was just to convince not to go or stay in singapore. but what he pointed at has some truth on it. he believes that the reason many young filipino professionals fail in singapore and returns back is because of lack of experience. most of them just risk going there after graduating because of the promise of a good opportunity without really equiping them with the right sets of skills and expertise. so having that in mind, i guess its will be just an open option for me. something that i could always go back to if worst comes to worst and if i already have the right skill sets and experience.

but it also made me think that i should travel more often. see the world more. a new lifelist for this year came in mind. 3 abroad and 5 (new) local destinations. luckily, someone asked me to do some "surprising engagements" in boracay next month. and regardless, how absurd it was, who can refuse an all expense paid trip?

after this, i am planning for another backpacking adventure in mindanao. i have only been to mindanao once. it was cagayan de oro last august, Eid al-Fitr to be exact. but it was more of a work engagement so i was not able to enjoy the place at all. hopefully, my itinerary and the people who are suppose to go with me (you know who you guys are), will push through. in fact, i have already my itinerary booklet prepared since last year. i have this thing with preparing itinerary booklets for each trip. see?

however, please be guided that i have no plans of turning my blog to a travel blog. let's just say i am widening my places to wander for wonders.

'til next time and take it easy, guys.

exploring FREEdom

it will always be there. the rag of horses galloping inside my chest drawn by uncertainties. but the unfamiliar scent of the boarding area i took that day made me realize how different it was from the other lane i usually take.

the departure area was way more silent; almost barely empty; as if it was indeed a living machine brewing loneliness and griming farewells. i can just imagine how many people cried in this sea of waiting and lonely benches. while the lane at the other side was full of people excited to be reunited. honestly, being inside the departure area, didn't really help me with the fact that i will be going out of the country alone and for the first time.

the three hour flight was spent mostly of reading the same magazine (i've been reading in that airline for almost two months that time); writing mental notes and itineraries, practicing some commonly used local phrases and convincing myself that everything will be alright as long as my sense of direction will not fail me, that i know how to read and i have enough money in my pocket.

so as soon as the captain welcomed us to Suvarnabhumi Airport , i knew its wanderer mode on. so the first thing i did was to exchange my money to the local currency; buy a local sim card since our receptionist forgot to activate the roaming service of my line; and find a local map.

but never did i imagine that i will be welcomed by an immediate challenge.

looking my way out, the sign boards and maps made me felt like i was a five year old kid again just staring and figuring out what those doodles meant. so i thought of asking for directions instead.

from the airport, my plan was to get to khao-san road, where most of my friends recommended me to go because of cheap accommodation. just to realize later that its recommendable if you are coming from bangkok airport and not from Suvarnabhumi, which is like 2 hours away from khao-san during non-rush hours.

nonetheless, i politely approached and asked a man who was waiting for the shuttle service.

"sewasdi!" the first word i learned. the man warmly smiled, bowed his head while both palms are together. unlike here in the philippines, people in thais are more welcoming to people who looks like them.

pretty cool and nice, i thought.

but the moment i asked, "would you know how can i get to khao-san road from here?" his warm face turned into something that resembles into fear. he immediately waived his hand as a sign of rejection and immediately just move away from me.

what did i say wrong? is khao-san road a very dangerous place? and prohibited in this country to be talked about? did my friends just throw another prank at me?

that incident made me a bit paranoid. it felt as if i missed out something in the picture. it took me another thirty minutes just sitting on one of the airport's benches to come up with another strategy. luckily, i was able to spot a tourist assistance center. for travellers visiting thailand, these centers are friends!

the receptionist told me that there is no direct route going to khao-san from that airport and just take a cab from there.

but i told her, no cabs (still brave enough to keep up in challenging myself) and will just take local transportation.

she smiled and told me to take the shuttle service going to the bus terminal and from there take another ride going to this place and then i just totally did not understand what she said next. so i just did what i understood. i bravely took the shuttle service passing the airport and just told myself to drop off where the bulk of people are dropping off. luckily, the strategy worked. i reached the bus terminal and immediately looked for the bus going to khao san road. unfortunately, the ticketing officer told me that there was no bus trip going to khao san that day and asked me to ride another bus which was later on objected by one of the dispatcher. and the story got more complicated and complicated. regardless, he told me to take a van ride going to victory monument. so again, i did what i was told and understood--- the last.

there are a lot of backpackers during that time, august. since most of the schools abroad are on summer vacation and classes resume by september. i met a lot of backpackers along my trip.

probably the rule of backpacking is always accommodate questions when you know the answer because almost everyone pays it forward and they know the dilemma one traveller faces in each trips.

on my way to victory monument, i met two korean girls who just came from another backpacking trip in indonesia and headed to the same route i am going. though difficult in communicating in english, there were sweet enough to give me tips on how to go by bangkok.

we bid goodbyes when we reached victory monument. the place at 7 in the evening is like cubao. buses were everywhere. crowd are coming from different directions. and even the people's faces were almost the same faces you don't seem to notice whenever you commute.

it was already 8:30 in the evening and i still cannot locate the bus number, the korean girls told me to take going to khao-san. actually, the moment i started reading and locating the bus numbers on each of the waiting sheds i passed, i kinda forgot the bus number they told me to take.

but im pretty sure it was 18. so when i finally found it, i immediately jumped on a bus number 18 and find myself the nearest empty seat. the bus conductor was holding like a piece of bamboo where in all the coins and tickets were place. i told her, "khao san." as i expected, she asked me again. i repeated. then suddenly a man sitting in front of me, waived the same hand gesture as the man from the airport gave at me. i am now really developing this fear of talking about khao-san. the man talked to driver in thai then informed me that i took the wrong bus. he instructed the driver to drop me off to the nearest waiting shed and advise to take bus number 32. i felt a bit relieved.

the moment i stood up, i bowed at him, made the amen gesture and said, "kub kun kup." just to realize eventually that "kub kun kup" is thank you when refering to girls. it should have been "kub kun krap" since i am thanking a man.

it was total a disaster believe but all i can do that was to laugh at at myself the entire time. it was already 9:30 in the evening. so that will be 10:30 in manila since the latter is an hour ahead. it was really a long day and all i can think of is just to get a hotel and sleep the entire night. i figured, i just have to give up and hail a cab. so i tried. surprisingly, i noticed that it seemed like all the cab that pass by happened to have someone seated in the passenger seat. then i remembered, vehicles here are right-wheel drives! argh!

so already desperate, i hailed a tuktuk instead though i know they are far more expensive than taxis. eventually, we agreed with the amount and headed to khao san road.

to be continued.

the men of the old house

it felt it was just last month, when a young boy fresh from college took all his courage and decided to find life in the city.

without any family, relatives nor friends with him, he saw himself renting a small room in katipunan together with an old landlord.

for almost four years the two men stayed under the same roof. but they managed not to divulge into a conversation. there relationship was constrained with brief nods or small talks whenever the boy pays his rent. there were even times when the boy catches the old man just waiting for him sitting on an old dusty couch as if cornering him to finally know who his tenant was.

but the boy, though as polite as he can, would always excuse himself with alibis of something important to do. then he will just catch the old man's dismay through his eyes. He will then feel loneliness radiating on his face.

It seemed like the boy just cannot stand the gloominess and coldness of the room. it was as if he was watching a very depressing film. hence he would always just stays inside his own space.

one time, the boy woke up realizing the landlord was not in the house. there was no coughing down stairs. no radio turned on. it was just plain silence. so he finally went out of his lair and decided to explore the entire house. then he realized, it actually took him a year before he have done this.

ang maarteng kurtina

in general, it was old enormous house, where dust already covered its elegance and time already stole it from being a home.

there was an old piano dead waiting on the corner. above it were frames of blurred old photos; of people who the boy have never seen before. but somewhere among the frames, he managed to identify his landlord. a young radiant man who was laughing while hugging a woman carrying a baby. the boy figured it must be his family. and no, he no longer attempted asking where they are now? he just left his curiosity inside boxes of piled stained letters, post cards and peeking photos. the mere thought made him really down and was even magnified when a cold smooth breeze brushed his arms.

it had been over a month since the boy learned his landlord was back. surprisingly, he was no longer waiting for him downstairs, sitting on that old dusty couch and listening to a struggling radio box. however, he noticed a woman, probably in her 40s, cleaning and bringing food to his landlord's room. she was also silent. eyes blank and lip tucked.

when the end of the month came, someone knocked on the boy's room. it was the woman. she said the landlord wanted to see him.

so the boy hurried, dressed up, took his rent from his pocket and went downstairs. when he opened the door, he was shocked. the old man was look entirely different. his frail body seemed way weaker than before, his swollen eyes sunk deeper towards his face. cheekbones almost vanished and skin paler than the cream blanket covering him. the boy almost did not recognize the man. pity started engulfing him.

the boy also barely recognized the old man's voice. though the message was clear. it was almost over. he wanted the boy to find another place; afraid that he can no longer maintain his house. he just wanted to rest and go back to another waiting. At least thats how the boy understood it.

the words struck him. he (boy) was speechless. there was just that automatic response of handling over his rent and go out. guess, he just can't bare the feeling or perhaps the conscience asking him why he cannot give the old man very small amount of his time before, just to make him forget or at they very least alter his routine.

but before he even made his second step, the old man stopped him. he refused to take the payment and advised the boy to use it for his next space. then he smiled. the boy almost surrendered to his own tears. he thanked the old man and left.

when he arrived in his room, he just stood in front the closed door and looked at the space he called at that time called his home, along with the things that he have brought inside; all the memories that he have met for the past four years.

goodbye has never been his thing probably because he always has difficulties of starting over. but if theres one thing he have learned from the old man, its simply waiting in between is far more worst than starting or ending something.

now, after four months of checking ins and sleeping overs, the young boy had finally moved over to his new place. brewing a new line of stories. and hopefully, this time, he will have the time to spare for other people to share their own stories with him.

J.A.P.A.N. (Just Always Pray At Night) Japan!

when i heard the news, the first thing i thought was 2012, the alleged end of the world.

but it was actually my next thought that really drove me to post something in my status,

"wait lang 2012... bigyan mo muna ulit ako ng lovelife. its been a year, nalimutan ko na..."

then while waiting for a response, i saw a picture that made me realize how stupid, insenstive and selfish the status was. hence, i immediately deleted it and contemplated.

for at the end of each day, this is just one of the scenes, that goes beyond any selfishness and hope one will never see in his/her life.

source

all my prayers to the victims of the recent earthquake and tsunami in japan.

someone from the north

*free writing

i am in a place far away. always in transit; nurtured by hellos and farewells. but at the end of it all, it still leaves me wondering, what am i really looking for?

***

there was uncertain silence for every uncertain questions i threw.

but what i only know was he lives in a very remote tribe village in the north. a community, wherein time have already forgotten them. the thought of poverty as their dish served on empty plates and cold corruption as their resting beds.

then he looked at me. his eyes, a bit shy. clearing his throat and composing every words he was about to utter. he smiled again and made his eyes disappear in a dark uplifting arc.

then he said,

i don't know.

perhaps, i just go somewhere ---away here. i already 27 years and done all works just to find i really want. construction, farming, porting, even assistant pastor.

what i experience, i guess never find answer here. so if my response convince you that i true, then, you'll think that i am to do any job regardless small or hard it be. at least, i can something to start.

in an ordinary conversation, the uncertainty and softness of his words can just simply leave someone asking, what did he just actually said?

but for me, the word escape instantly appeared.

in a way, he kinda reminded me of myself a couple of years back or even until now. he made me realize how fortunate i still am and introduce me to the pettiness of my day-to-day rants.

i don't know how am i going to tell it to my boss. if i will lie and tell him he is qualified just to give him that favor. but after we shook hands, i figured that i just cannot stain the honesty of what he said. so i totally told everything to my boss.

and for some weird reason, he understood where the both of us were coming from. hence, i was so surprised when he asked me to contact him again and ask him to go with us to manila by the end of the month. i will find something that he can do and take him as a secret company scholar for a course he always wanted to get--- criminology.

i must admit it definitely gave me goosebumps.

for this lad at least gave me something to hold on; a small piece of what i am really looking for. i may not know what it really is for now. but it feels like i already made my first step going there--- wherever that maybe.

kilig

i'm 25...

and i recognize the fact that i am at that point of my life, where i thought puberty had already passed just to wake up one day, being swept away by a larger hormonal tide.

i remember what T once told me over those rare coffee table moments that we are beginning to lose lately,

"there will always be those times when you will just realize that your urges will be stronger than your rationals and morals; and there will no other way but to give in. for the smarter you are, the stronger your urge will be."

in a way, his words struck me and from that point, i am always reminded with it every time i go elsewhere.

there will be those nights when the heed needs a response and all i can do is just surrender.

like any first, the fear and anticipation drive anyone insane. not to mention those inner ghosts that would annoyingly nag and constantly remind you. but i guess, there is indeed no clear answer for anyone who only lives among the mirage of his assumptions.

but i never thought, twitter-pat could also be that treacherous.

nostalgia

first is the dream. next, we encounter routines. then choice follows. finally, we meet our considerations.
but if our considerations overruled our choice, we end up dreaming again.
***
you wake up bathing with sweat.
even your eyes still half close, you instantly reached your phone; already knew where it was even if it roamed all over your bed the entire night.

you checked for some messages and missed calls. then reply to them with the least sense you could pull out from your head. the dream is still fresh. it messes itself with reality. but you wanted to remember it and don't want to forget just like the rest. hence, you held on it.

after realizing you are no longer dreaming, you get out of your bed and head to the toilet.
after you're regime, you go back to your cradle and turn the tv on.

you scan for any interesting show in a typical afternoon.
once settled, you open your laptop and check for any emails. you surf for a number of websites until your tummy pleads, that becomes your queue.
you then decide to put your slippers and hit the streets. you drag yourself in search for a place that you haven't eaten yet. but the choices are thin, especially if you are living in the same place for the last four years.

source

after taming your stomach, you then return back home. sadden with the realization that you have no place else to go.
while walking, you'll calculate how many hours left (like you usually do) before you go to work again. once you have determined it, you'll squeeze yourself out for something worthwhile doing. but the prize is as scarce as a diamond in a pile of broken glasses. so at the end, you find yourself forced to watch either a movie that you have already seen for the sixth time or daisy siete when worst comes to worst.
by the time you need to prepare for work, that is the moment that you'll start bargaining for another 15 minutes with yourself. chances are, if the diligent ego wins, you will have an extra 30 minutes to smoke before going to work. but if the stubborn-you wins, you'll lose another 200 php for the taxi fare.
then after a long day of work, you'll find yourself exhausted from walking and commuting towards home--- alone.
nothing in mind but to lay down on your bed and sleep until you never wake up again. until you dream the same dream again. the dream that you again, have forgoten.
you'll tell yourself that your routine seems to be endless.
***
contentment is probably man's missing other half. almost everybody keeps on searching for it through material wealth, bodily pleasure, emotional stability and even intellectual satisfaction. but sometimes, once it is achieved, we will then realized that it is not actually what we are looking for; that something is still missing. thus, we look again.
everybody is endlessly chasing it: without even knowing what it truly is, regardless of how uncertain the path maybe.
nonetheless, everyone will agree, that not all of us have the same form of contentment. it may vary. and for some of us, we even find our own contentment in the very routine that we are taking.

well, i just wish that i am one of them, that i could learn how to live and love my routine.

the eighth brew

funny how things are going with me so far.

reading my entries several months ago, made me realized how much i have been ranting with how unfulfilling life had been going--- work wise. how monotous it had became that it already became a stagnant routine, almost draining all the life energy in me, making me almost surrendering with such hopelessness.

now, i find myself sitting on an empty hotel bench, infront of a beautiful pool with a turned on jacuzzi above, while having a good smoke, my eigth cup of kalingga brew, and a laptop sitting on my lap to actually boast everything--- just kidding!though back in the metro, i am still trying to desperately ask friends to do my enrollment for it is only up within the week. but time is so rare nowadays, that i cannot afford to include such in the things that i am presently thinking. so i am letting my years of friendship to do the magic.

actually, i still cannot say that this is the best job for me. but i am trying to love it--- enjoying it! besides, its not really common nowadays, to have profession that travels a lot, meeting new faces, hearing different stories and experiencing a totally different breathe.

(huwag lang tayo pupunta sa usapin ng lovelife dahil nanununtok na ako lately sa usaping yan! hahahaha!)

it was our last night in baguio. friends were texting for a meet up, for catch ups. but unfortunately, the demand to prepare for our next trip was that heavy that i have to sacrifice some invitations. it was infact, depressing not to meet friends that you haven't seen for a while--- dear and close friends for that matter.

i guess, baguio already had placed itself within me that it is already hard to set it aside. memories, regardless how minute and embarassing they maybe, constantly haunt and remind you how life slowly molds you to an entirely different individual; whether you like it or not . well, i guess, change is indeed inevitable, never easy and we just have to suck it up--- hopefully, for the better.

the following morning, i woke up by a call in my phone. i sluggishly reached and answered it.

"sir, si malou po ito. nandito na po kami ng driver. san po namin kayo pupuntahan?"

i just told them to meet us in the mezzanine for breakfast. then i asked my partner to use the bathroom and prepare first, while i hurriedly pack my things. after packing, i approached our room window and made a last glimpse to the metro and its rare vacated morning.

then i silently whispered, "someday... someday."

ang tunay na wanderer...

... hindi takot suungin ang mga one lane rough road,
no barrier beside the cliff,

na may countless landslide
over foggy weather na national road!



*i miss writing. kahit kailan napakahirap kalaban ng oras!

*the following are actual photos.

child play: masbate, dangerously beautiful

i looked at my ticket again and read 5:15 AM.

it was already 3:45 AM,and without any sleep, i have decided to go straight to the domestic airport from tomas morato, after having countless bottles of beer (again) with my bedan blockmates. i have been officially baptized as the "ultimate kaladkarin" of the group

i flipped the next page and read another name printed on it. my supervisor instructed me to wait for this guy at the airport and he will introduce himself there.

when i arrived it was already 4:10 AM, and no familiar face was on sight. i tried to contact him and a man with a deep voice answered the phone, apologizing tremendously for being late.

he arrived right after the last call. i already failed to profile him for we immediately rushed towards the check in counter. the clerk told us that we were just in time, the gate was about to be closed. we only had the chance to talk when we were boarding, he introduced himself as M. he also works for the same company as i am but in a different department. he also seldom goes to the office, no wonder he is not familiar.

it actually took me a while before i was able to ask him what will his role be in our current task. he smiled and looked at me.

"i will be your BG," he answered.

i caught myself really surprised. it was actually the first time that i will have my own BG, at least for this project.

he explained that the area is relatively risky for someone like me. though i know how to speak the language, it is still not enough to handle unexpected situations. right that very moment, i already thought of enrolling myself in a martial art class.

***

we arrived in masbate at exactly 6:30 in the morning. we went straight to the hotel we are staying, reviewed my itinerary and proceeded with all the necessary retrievals required.

masbate is a province in between the island of luzon and visayas. but it doesn't have any hints that it is detached from the main land luzon for almost all familiar establishments are present there. it almost reminded me of my dad's hometown, sorsogon, that also made me realize that my ancestors are actually rooted in the island of ticao, another island of the territory of masbate.

i called my dad and informed him that im in masbate. but i never thought that ill be more surprised than him. for the first time, he was really concerned. for the place has a reputation (whatever that means).

then M told me that aside from its beautiful beaches, masbate is quite famous for its insurgencies and numerous ambush attacks. but i was never bothered since our intentions were not something political and besides, the conotation for the leftist groups has never been an issue with me. i know these are just one of those black propagandas.

***

we went to the centro to take a ride going to our area. there, we were given an option to either take the tricycle or habal-habal, (a trip, where 3-5 people are forced to fit on a single motorcyle). of course, i took the tricycle ride for i know it will be bumpy and dusty; and with the equipment i am carrying, falling from a moving vehicle down to a rocky road is the least thing i want to happen.

on our way to the area, i saw a number of passing habal-habal, that made me realize that it is really the most popular and cheap mode of transportation in the area. it costs around Php10 per person while the tricycle can soar 'til Php50, but what really got my attention were the mini buses.

its your typical provincial mini buses, where most passengers are outside the vehicle. there are even kids on top of each. actually, i was a bit intrigued with them. for aside from being only around 8-12 years old, without any adult supervision, each of them were also holding long and dark pellet gun and shot guns. cut soda bottles, attached with a piece of string, wrapped around their heads, covering their faces. their movements could tell me that they were aggresively and anxiously waiting for something or someone.

then i noticed another set of kids that were standing along the bumpy and dusty road, also holding pellet guns. in an instant, they were swiftly clicking their guns and firing at each other. a good ten shots flew at both parties. when the mini bus made a good distance, each party posed a series of aggresive poses, insulting each other, as of resembling to the cracking dance.and the same scene continued as we drove along.

but what made it more surprising, was that no adult riding the bus, reacted nor opposed of what happened. it was as if nothing really happened. and during my entire stay, as i go back and forth to the area, the exact scene repeated over and over again.

somehow, it made me remember the film, cicade de dios or city god.

then i realized, if this is the kind of child play, someone has been exposed to while growing up, no wonder the place has already enveloped a negative reputation.

in such setting, ambush or any violent attack, regardless of how irrelevant they maybe, will eventually be deemed legitimate or ordinary by such society.

ironically that night, we attended a town fiesta activity, i clearly remembered one of the lines the provincial education superintended said in his speech. he describes masbate as dangerously beautiful.

please be reminded that i do not intend to write this entry to throw bad words against the province. i just want to point out an event that seems to be invisible to the locals. i am not questioning any morals nor traditions. perhaps, i am just trying to send an inquiry across, expecting an opinion back.

***

another surprising scene in the province were the kalboys.

or kalyeng baboys (akala niyo ha?!).

unlike the domesticated pigs i used to see from the places i have been. the kalboys in masbate are free to wander around the perimeter of its owner. it runs with the dogs, whenever their master call and feed them. they chase each other and sniff things new to them.

i can just imagine how manila or other nearby provinces will look like if such treatment to pigs is enacted. vegans will definitely rule!

***

relatively, there is no night life in masbate. so i decided to just stay in my hotel and think of anything else to do. but i failed. the day was so boring for me, that it lived with the province name, literally. hahaha! kiddin!

paano pa kaya sa trip ko sa panay??? hahaha!

***

after masbate, we rode a fast craft going to sorsogon then legazpi city!

despite numerous times, i have seen mayon, it still never fails to awe me. its even more breathtaking if you'll look at it above.

nung highschool ako at wala pang jolibee sa aming baryo, sikat ka na kapag kumakain ka dito--- sa quick n' hearty. hahaha!

wish stick

tonight, as the harsh cool night breeze escapes to my window, i find myself staring at my monitor screen again. reading my thesis, which is a week pass its deadline, for the hundredth time. and all i could do, was just to patiently wait for the right words to come.

i decided to take a break for the warning of an upcoming headache is at sight. i took a box out from my resting bag, opened it up and saw a couple of cigarette sticks. my brain already developed dependence to the dizziness a puff brings. i wonder, until where it can bring me tonight.

behind my cabinet were piles of fresh clothes neatly stacked and just like me, they too, were also waiting.

i lit my first cigarette and took a deep sip. but for some reasons, flashbacks instantly flew like pages of the already staled book in front of me.

i remembered the very first stick i had almost a decade ago. it was the sweetest stick i ever had, no wonder i still could not drop the vice until now. or perhaps, it was more than that.

perhaps its the search of having the same experience again. the thrill and excitement of not getting caught and called a newbie; pressured by new peers in an entirely different place. trying to be cool, pretending i am not.

unfortunately, when i was already in the group, it was already too late. i was completely caught tangled with it. i just hate when i am not in control, especially of something that pertain to myself. i guess there is no longer any way now, but to claim it. nonetheless, i am still hopeful that someday i will surpass this--- that i will totally overcome this addiction.

when i felt the heat crawling near my lips, i forcefully smashed the dying flame on the ash tray as if holding the very stick responsible for me, losing my own control. but then i took the box again and saw my last. i laughed at myself, realizing it was actually a wish stick. i laughed because of the realization that i am almost a decade smoker but i am still doing the same routine: still believing that i am entitled with something before finishing a pack.

honestly, i already lost count of how many wish sticks i had and how many wishes i had said. but if there is something that i am certain about, it is the fact that i have been saying the same wish for myself (other than whats for my parents and close friends) over and over again.

a couple of years back, i used to ask my friends or someone i knew, how it feels like to be 25? what did they do during that time? or what they should have done during that age?

but for some reason they would always give me that strange look and awkward answer. basically, they would always say its irrelevant and insignificant to who they are now, that its just the same, nothing really special.

but i remained unsatisfied with their answers. probably because, i just couldn't stop myself from escaping the realization that i am already nearing that corner of my life; that i am always in competition with time; and that i would be stuck with my own uncertainties and unfulfillable decisions of staying in a profession that i really do not like nor imagined myself for the rest of my life.

at the age of 23, i was already torturing myself with these kinds of life dilemmas. instead of enjoying things as they come and go, like i would always tell myself, i tend to wonder with the things that are miles ahead of me, otherwise. i guess, thats what the film boy culture meant, its difficult to live this kind of life for you think like you are already 40 even though you are just 14. but how can you blame them or me, if fear, in its full bloom, is (still) lurking around our presence.

last july, i just turned 25, still unemployed but blessed with a supportive family and circles of friends, ever understanding and supportive. nonetheless, i knew that it was still not enough. thus, i was then determined to take the risk, to change and make this something special. so without even thinking, i signed a job offer that is way more than what i used to earn despite my pending debts, due bills and even my rent.

suddenly my phone rang again. i answered it and heard a familiar voice.

"prepare your things. we have already booked you a flight. you are going to bicol." then the line dropped.

in an instant, i opened my email, printed my ticket and copies of my tasks. closed my laptop, approached the neatly stacks of fresh clothes behind my closet and put them inside my sack. i went out and hailed an approaching cab. then on my way to the airport, i felt a very uncomfortable thing bulging inside my pocket. i took it out, found the same cigarette box and saw my waiting wish stick inside. for a second, i caught myself staring at it. flashbacks instantly flew again. but in my surprise, i slowly closed it, put it aside and told myself,

it had to wait. i still have to come up with a new wish.

tatlong mukha ng paglisan

“Ma, nasa loob na po ba niyan si papa?” buong inosente kong tanong kay mama habang pinagmamatiyagan ang dambuhalang balikbayan box, na linuwal na kalawanging trak.

Naalala ko noong unang beses kong itanong iyon sa kanya. Halos bumagsak ang mga bubot niyang luha sa alulod ng kanyang mga mata, nangingig ang mga nanunuyong labi at halos hindi makapagsalita. Nito ko na lamang naintindihan ang hapdi nang pinagsamang pangamba at pag-aalala.

“Hindi kasya dito si Papa,” matapang na sagot niya habang binubuo ang mga bigkas ng bawat salitang yun.

“E, kailan po siya darating?”

“Malapit na,” yun lagi ang mga katagang s(in)agot niya.

“Gaano po kalapit?” pag uusisa ko.

“Basta, malapit na.”

Utang ko marahil ang pagiging Best in Math ko noong elementarya sa pagbibilang ng mga araw kung kelan darating si papa. Patunay pa ni nanay, mas nauna ko pa daw natutunan ang pagbibilang kesa sa ABAKADA. Mas naunang naunawaan ang adisyon at substraksyon kesa sa pagbabay at grammar. Lahat yun dahil sa paghihintay.

Marahil kung susumahin, bago ako tumuntong ng kolehiyo, mas higit pa sa bilang ng edad ko, ang mga pagkakataong umuwi at nakapiling namin siya. At noong napagdesisyunan na niyang hindi bumalik sa barko, kasabay ng pagkawala ng hilig ko sa numero ang pananabik ko ding makapiling at makausap siya. Siguro kaiba sa mga prutas, hindi kailanman naging matamis ang pagkahinog ng aking paghihintay. Sa madaling salita, nangahulugan ang kawalan ng mapag-uusapan, ang madalas naming away. Nagagawa naming palakihin ang mumunting ‘di pagkaka-unawaan. Nagkamalay akong kaiba sa kanyang inaasahan. At kaiba naman siya sa mga imahe ng pangungulila ng aking kabataan.

***

Marahil kundi dahil sa edad namin, marahil ay perpekto na ang lahat. Hindi naging malaking isyu kundi man kami nakakalabas gaya ng iba, maging affectionate tulad ng iba. Naging masaya na kami sa kung ano ang napupuslit namin; kung ano lang ang pwedeng maging sa amin.

“Anong plano mo pagkatapos nito?”

“Pupunta ako ng Maynila. Gusto ko’ng magtuloy sa masteral. Tapos maghahanap ako ng trabahong pwedeng tumustos sa pag-aaral ko. Dyahe na din kasing humingi sa mga parents ko, e ikaw?”

Marahil kung alam ko lang kung ano ang isasagot niya noon, sana hindi ko na lang binalik sa kanya ang tanong.

“Pupunta ako sa Canada. Kukunin daw ako ng tita ko doon. Magtratrabaho para naman makatulong kanila mama at papa--- para makabawi naman kahit papaano.”

Malayo ang tingin niya habang sinasagot iyon, na para bang tanaw niya ang Canada mula sa aming kinauupuan.

“Maganda yan. Yan naman ang pangarap mo di ba, ang matulungan ang iyong pamilya.” Mahirap makipag kompetensiya sa pamilya.

Hindi ko alam kung napansin niyang binitawan ko ang pagkakahawak ko sa kamay niya. Pero magkaganun pa man, hindi ko na sinubukang bawiin ulit iyon.

Gaya nga nang sinasabi ko sa sarili ko, matagal na akong gradweyt sa paghihintay.

***

Noong nakaraang taon, bumalik ang matalik ko’ng kaibigan mula sa Singapore. Halos magdadalawang taon na siya duon. Bakas mo ang kanyang pananabik sa kanyang bawat pag-uwi. Subalit mas madami pa sa pasalubong niyang over-sized na damit at tsokolate ang kanyang baong mga kwento. Kwento ng pangungulila at kung papaano trinatrato ang tulad niyang Pilipino sa kanyang pinagtratrabahuhan. Kayod kalabaw ...

Subalit sa kabila ng mga ito, matuturing niyang mas mapalad pa daw siya kumpara sa iba niyang kakilala, na tinutunggali ang araw sa pagkakayod kalabaw at binuburo ang mga gabi sa pangungulila sa mga mahal sa buhay. Magkaganun pa man, para sa akin, hindi pa din nalalayo ang kanyang buhay sa kanila.

“So babalik ka pa ba?”

“Kelangan eh. Kasama na ata yun sa job description ng kontratang pinirmahan ko.”

“Kelan ba matatapos ang kontrata mo?”

“Basta, malapit na.” Nakakatuwa at nakakainis isipin na pilit akong binabalikan ng sagot na ito.

Dalawang linggo lang siya sa bansa noon. At isang araw bago siya bumalik ng Singapore, tinext niya ako. Ihatid ko daw siya sa airport pag-alis niya. Pero mas piniling kong hindi na sumagot, kaya hindi ko siya nahatid. Mas pinili ko yun dala na rin ng katotohanang,

kailanman ay hindi ako naging magaling sa pagpapaalam.

*special thanks to max

going down the queen

"packed your things. you'll be leaving for cebu today."

then the line dropped.
immediately, i opened my cabinet, sort fresh clothes from the laundry and stuffed it inside a small shoulder bag. no more time for second thinking of what i still need to bring.
in a matter of 5 minutes, i already caught myself hailing a cab and riding inside it.
two hours later, i was already walking along mactan international airport looking for my contact, where she later brought me in a hotel in cebu city.
***

i must admit, it was my first time in cebu. actually, it was my first out-of-luzon trip. alright, it was also my first AIRPLANE ride (roll eyes to geek and toiletots).

***

cebu doesn't have much difference from manila. if not for the language, i can wake up there believing i am still in makati or in quezon city. your manila signs obviously are there: the heavy traffic, rows of commercial establishments, fast paced commuters and of course, the ayala mall.

***

a friend once advised me, never ask in filipino/tagalog in cebu because most of the time, they would answer you in bisaya (he believes, it is cebuano's way of getting back to manilenos prejudices against their accent). he added that i should rather ask them in english. but being me, i still insisted in asking in filipino. luckily, i understood the language eventually.

***

other than food and hotels, the three major businesses in Cebu are:

1. water vending machines; 2. spas; 3. foreigners.

water vending machines

i guess, "ice tubig for sale" is already long gone. in cebu, water vending machines are almost everywhere, especially among busy streets. the concept is you get a sheet of plastic bag, located on the side of the machine; open it right below the water funnel, then drop a peso. then, water will just automatically pour and stop once it reaches it serving level. you then tie a knot above the plastic and bite a hole on the side. then the rest is just gulping.

massage/spas

like, water vending machines, spas in cebu are crazy everywhere. almost every street has one. they offer a wide array of services from full body massage to facials and foot scrubs, and it doesn't even costs that much. usually, it ranges from 150-250 php/hour.

if you try checking online and compare your results to other key cities in the country like manila or davao, you'll learn that the number of cebu masseues and masseurs are winning by miles.
now, it makes me wonder if either it is indeed stressful to live in Cebu or the people are just...

fond of relaxation.

it was also in cebu that i have heard (note: heard, not learned nor found out) the linggam massage.

foreigners

at first, i always believed that the huge number of foreigners are concentrated in Cafe Havanna in Greenbelt 3. but when i went to cebu, it appeared as if the entire Cebu islands were the main branch of Cafe Havanna.
unfortunately, for some of us, it seemed as if whenever we see a foreigner, they automatically register to us as stacks of cash; or whenever we see a foreigner together with a Filipino partner, we immediately connote that that the Filipino is a milker.

you can understand this by observing how aggressive and assertive certain subjects are towards foreigners, especially among malls and bars (particularly in Mango Square).

i guess, this is another part of colonial mentality that we failed to look into in our history and sociology classes.

***

when riding jeeps, people from cebu don't rely on the signage. they rely on the number-letter on top of each vehicle: 13C, 4B, 12L etc. as if they are map coordinates.
there are also cases, from which, when you ride a certain jeep going to a certain destination (for instance, 4C). but you will be needing to ride a different jeep (12L) to go back. or that was just me being dumb with directions again. hahaha!

***

after almost 4 months of no rice diet, operation: no rice diet was suspended in cebu. who can resist their presentation? and it only costs 2php.

but i guess, the bottomline is, you cannot fully enjoy cebuano food without rice along with it.
especially the cebu lechon and POCHERO aka BULALO (don't expect Cebu's pochero with tomato sauce).

***
looking for popular place to eat, friend suggested this place, where they serve the best grilled and raw food. so i hailed a cab and told the driver,

"manong, SHOOT-TO-KILL po tayo!"

i swear, i saw him laughing at me (eto pala ang feeling nang nadidiscriminate dahil sa accent). ***
i really enjoyed going to Cebu. infact, the supposed to be 5 days stay was extended to 13 days. i consider it as a working vacation, since our job there is to pose as a tourist. and they are planning to send me their again for a 2-3 month project. but if offered, im thinking of declining. for me, the time frame is just too long.
personally, cebu is for vacation, not for work.

but then again, kung malaki ang food allowance at may prospect love life baka ma- 'let me think about it ako.' hahaha!