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!

metaporn: the casavan

unlike most caravans, welcomed by loud drum beats and excited cheers, they entered the town in the middle of the night almost crawling in silence.

the first pack looked among the far fetch parts of the town and signaled where they will try to build and hide their massive and colorful tents from the eyes of prejudice.
hopefully, the forest can keep a secret. atleast for days or for a week. before they will head back to uncertainty.

"how many rich, powerful and faceless people will haunt me this time? how many of them will i pray not to be part of who i am now?"this is the kind of life, Melissa grew up with and these are the thoughts she always asks to herself whenever serenity succumb her, whenever the wind is at peace and the ground is no longer shaking.

it draws smile on her lips whenever she looks at how trees stand still. how she can closely appreciate a flower or a scene without the fear of missing or not seeing it again. pathetic as it may sound but so far these are the only things she keeps pn looking forward in her life, that keeps her alive.

as a child, the only memories she can remember was waking up drowning underneath dull and moving colors. there were even times she can't help but to scream when she thinks of it. then the mistress will then shake back reality in her.
the mistress, although strict and brutal, trained her for everything she needs to know to become one of the best nymphs of the casavan, which she later on became.

when the fruit was already ripe to be harvested, the mistress handed her over a small red notebook. she was asked to write her life and the experiences of her fellow nymphs in it. as well as to carefully read and study the life scriptures of the nymphs before her. it was living tradition for people like them.
when the festivity of sounds roared in and the curtain was opened, she knew it was time. she knew everyone was dying to see her, how she will come out of that pool. soaked on rich coconut milk. how she will glide, swing and slide among the vines and shrubs of the most exoctic and most beautiful flowers known to man.
how she will drive everyone on the top of their desires.

when the show was over, papers were forwarded and put inside a jar. it contains how much she was worth to her spectators. when the biggest sum was called in, melissa knew where to go next and what she will do to make herself numb again (for the thousandth time).

inside the cabin, she slowly moved her face close to the man, who was wearing that same emotionless mask again. the picture that draws the power she very much hated. she then whispered to it and asked about its fantasies."i want you to be a diwata and make love to me," it answered.

then she moved away and pulled a thin sheet of cloth hanging in the ceiling.

she already knew what to do...

she is indeed the nymph of every desire...

she made the cloth danced in the air

and then to her body

until she was completely covered with it.



then she drew closer

closer...

and closer...

until she ordered the mask to pull it's end.
and in his surprise,

melissa's naked body '

was already

in front of him...



as if pleading.



to be continued.

everyone has his own story

they grace earth with such color and elegance. redefining the word beauty as they strut their hips in such rhythm. their body nearly bare. clothes hanging almost on the edge of their souls. they laugh as if they were concealing something. they smile to atleast draw the same line on other peoples' lips (or atleast thats what their intentions were).

but despite their presence, no one really knew who they were or understood why there were there. and that even i, could not claim i know nor understand.

people, just like most people, only thought of one thing, that they are just sores that give their place a bad name.

someone once told me that eavesdropping and/or staring at someone is rude. but for me, judging them is far more worse.

the other night, we were having cups of warm drinks and a tasty conversation, when i noticed a group took the table just across ours. believe me, you'll never fail to miss them if you were there.

at first glance, i thought that they were just a simple group of friends having their regular afternoon tea. but then in an instant, i suddenly noticed how their eyes moved like winter birds and how their gestures caressed the air. it was an instant give away. but there was something more; their attention didn't settle to any man that passed them by.

it was as if they were into a hunt. a game that only the preys know.

suddenly the cafe's guard started walking away from his post. then i noticed the sudden but gradual change from his welcoming smile to every customer that walked in to an arrogance that could not be described, as he approached them.

in the table, one of them even raised his cup and took a deep sip. but it didn't stop the guard. then tension nerves appeared. the once fierce and calling eyes mellowed down to mere pairs of dark balls filled with fear.

i didn't catch what they were talking about. they were just too far from our table. but what i saw next, surprised me.

the guard checked and lifted one of their paper bags, with his arrogance still unmoved. i could see how difficult it was for them to answer and no one even tried to take back what the guard was holding. now, everyone is watching them.

what is the guard asking them? is he asking if they really bought those things? is he implying that they shoplifted it? why are they not reacting violently? why do they look so scared?

questions flew inside my head like papers being swept away by the afternoon breeze. i could think of a million possible scenarios from all the movies and stories i have watched and read. but it seemed like nothing really fit in. until the guard took the bag away and put it inside a box near his post. surprisingly, still no one in the table reacted.

so what's the real score?

when the guard put back his welcoming smile and stood beside the wide and heavy glass door again, the group started talking. they look like they were conniving and cooking something. one by one they stood up and walked toward different directions until only one was left.

then he stood up, went to the guard post and retrieved his paper bag. the guard took it from his shelf and politely handed it over to him. he then went back to his table and slowly finished his cup of tea. and the hunting game resumed.

after a while, i noticed a middle age caucasian passed by, went inside the cafeteria, ordered a cup of coffee and sat three tables away from us. it was no big deal since a good number of foreigners usually go to this mall. but that scene actually gave me, the huge piece of the puzzle that i am missing. and it was later confirmed when the caucasian walked pass us and casually sat beside him. then a transaction was made and they left the place together.

later that night, an acquaintance told us about how these groups are now being driven away by cafes inside this mall. despite the running courtesy rule of big coffee shops around the world, that prohibits them from doing so regardless if they are buying customers or not.

only in the philippines, he added.

in this kind of situation, i have only three things to say.

first, its agitating how people have devised ways to stereotype this kind of preference to mere act of prostitution, to a point that even celebrities or people with big names are of no exemption.

how we dress reflects only a part of who we are and not the entire story of our life.

second, its just sad to know that nowadays, a filipino can feel so alienated to his own country, whenever a foreigner is situated in the same place that s/he is. probably thats the problem of us being too hospitable to other people other than our own. we just keep on thinking foreigners are messiahs: great and kind. while us on the otherhand, are just any other brown skin guy up to something not good.

lastly, yes, i am against prostitution but not to those being prostituted (which i think should be more politically correct term for the word prostitute). thing is, not because someone does something immoral, makes us above them. the morals that we have, will never give us the right to do something bad against their like. there are proper venues.

now, i wonder. what if it will be a group of prostituted foreigners wearing the same kind of clothes and behaving the same manner as they do, will the guard still approach them? will the people around them think of the same thing against them? or will it be an entirely different thing?

come to think of it, all of us have our own flaws. its just that its different from others, for its based upon our own life stories. thus, this makes us not entirely different from them.

all of us have stories other people don't know and may not understand.

*photos taken from the movie irreversible