Sunday, April 24, 2005
when i die, heaven will be a beach
And once again I leave home behind, this time for Club Noah, Palawan. Palawan is one of the most beautiful places on earth, and I'm lucky to have been able to go at least once a year for the past 5 years or so. This time, it was with Nino's family, the Avenidos! I was touched they invited me along. And it was a pleasure spending 3 daysd with them, parents, sisters, sisters' husbands, sister's boyfriend, nephew/ grandson, step-grandfather, military aide and all!
There is no other feeling like being surrounded by the ocean, sky, and sand, and catching beautiful sunsets everyday (and by this, I do not mean Boracay aka Isla Congestiyon). Makes me feel so alive and healthy.
One thing I look forward to on a trip to Palawan is seeing the mangroves. I've seen them quite a number of times, but I still feel like it's such an exotic place. The roots of the trees curl downwards into the soft mud, sticking out of the calm, green waters. Mangroves comprise an interesting eco-system. Crabs live in magroves, as do aligators, tern, and even otters. I watched the sunrise in the mangroves once. It was an experience I will never forget.
Palawan is a preserved area, home to thousands of marine and bird species, both common and rare. This explains why I had the best snorkel-session of my life there. There was a profusion of giant clam (which is an endangered specie), humongous fish, and forests of technicolored coral!
We were also able to do a little spelunking. Nothing amazes me like being inside the bowels of the earth. Walking into a cave is always such a moment of awe and reverence. Now I know where man got his idea for huge chandeliers; he got it from looking at stalactites on cave ceilings! It was beautiful, like a prehistoric cathedral. Hard to believe it was all handcrafted by nature through hundreds of thousands of years!
And of course, we got to do alot of kayaking and lazing about.
Nino and I tried to windsurf using the resort's derelict, old equipment. The wind carried us in sporadic gusts out into the open sea, then promptly left us. We were stranded out there for about half an hour, then after spending about 20 minutes swimming to shore, dragging our pathetic boards behind us, a speedboat rescued us. Nyah!
*** Nino is really getting good at photography. He took most of the pictures I put on display!
*** Thanks again to the Avenidos for a wonderful trip!
I made you all a post card! Click here to see it!some interesting things
I've always wondered just how big this blog really is. I mean, I am aware that I get 700+ readers a day, but is that enough to make this site one of the top ten most visited blogs in the Philippines (as I recently found out from a surveyoy). So, I asked my webmaster/ Pansitan Queen, Ate Sienna for my web stats which she promptly emailed to me. I discovered some surprising things.
A portion of the stats showed the top 24 countries who frequent my site. If your country is mentioned in the list below, do be so kind as to represent! Introduce yourself. The comment box is all yours! I will be placing asterisks besides the countries that have been represented.
24) At the bottom of the list is...Taiwan*. This baffles me. I do not know any Taiwanese. F4??? Hahaha!
23) Austria*. Huwaw!
22)Saudi Arabia*. I understand there are alot of Filipinos here.
21) France*. Wow. French guys, hehehehe.
20) Brunei Darussalam
19)Spain. Wow! Any handsome spanish men out there?
18)Netherlands*. I'm not even entirely sure where the Netherlands are! Somewhere in Europe yeah...
17) Colombia. Colombia and the Philippines have alot in common.... hehehe
16) Norway. I only know two people in Norway and I know they are not the ones responsible for adding up all those hits!
15) New Zealand*. Salamat, Kiwi Pinay! haha! Wow, Middle Earth!
14) China. Er..tito Peter?
13)South Korea*. Huh?
12) Germany*. Lalo na toh!
11) United Arab Emirates*
10) India
9) Japan*. Salamat, Sachiko!
8) Singapore*
7) Great Britain*. Pimee? The Rapaports? Huh? Hehe.
6) European Union. 'Scuse my igorance but is this even considered a country?
5) Canada*. Errr... Janelle?
4) Hong Kong*. I know one person from Hong Kong and he lives here. :-p
3) Philippines*. Represent! The Philippines is only 3rd in line! How weird is that???
2) United States*. Yoohoo, relatives?
1) And the winner is... Australia*!!!- How bizarre is that? I mean, how many people do I know in Australia? Junjun, Tracy, Tito Rod, Tita Delia, Brian, Lucy, Hamish...hmmm, maybe I do know alot of Australians.
And finally...
Some advice for bloggers who are lacking in hits and obsessed with getting more, type these 3 words anywhere on your page:
According to stats, those three words are responsible for garnering a large percentage of my site visits. Meaning, when they search for those words on Google or Yahoo, my page comes out. Those 3 words are the highest ranking on my site after "ala paredes" and "ala-ism." Fourth in line is "pink nipples". Wahahaha!
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at 7:26 PM 73 Comments!
Monday, April 18, 2005
22 is looking good
For the first time ever, I feel compelled to think seriously about my life and the future. It used to seem like such a chore, partly because I was afraid, and partly because I didn't know what I wanted. I still don't. But at least I'm going to start thinking about it.
I still felt young at 21 but 22 seems sorta old. I know what my older readers are going to say: "But 22 is still so young, bla bla bla". :-) But the old feeling isn't depressing. It's a huge relief in fact. I want to start feeling and being responsible for myself. I want to know what I want. I'm tired of feeling confused and undefined all the time, and not being able to make up my mind. I am empowered to make my own decisions but I cannot exercise this power if I don't learn first to be responsible for myself.
Knowing this, I feel better about myself already.
1) Drive. I really will. I promise.
2) Save/ budget/ handle my own bank accounts.
3) Have some sort of plan/ timeline for the goals I want to achieve in my twenties.
4) Go out more often.
5) Believe in myself and take myself and what I do seriously.
6) Achieve at least my short term goals.
7) Cut down on aimless websurfing (it wastes alot of time and gives me eyestrain).
8) To love wholeheartedly.
9) To be someone worthy of love. (To quote Fr. Ferriols: "Madali maging tao. Mahirap magpakatao". )
I've been waiting for real life to start happening. Well... this is real life. It's been happening all along.sharing and gratitude
I'm always hesitant to throw birthday parties because scenes of possible worst-case party scenarios like to lurk around in my head. What if noone shows up? What if everyone shows up? What if it's boring?
Not that I've ever thrown an unsuccesful party. So far, each of my parties have been memorable and well, lovely. Lovely is the perfect word. You see, most parties nowadays are held in people's driveways; amidst peeling paint, storage, and flourescent, overhead lighting. Either that or it's in a bar which is great, but the venue has always struck me as a bit impersonal. Plus, you can't really choose the music, and it's hard to talk.
My parties all have a certain style. I like giving people the opportunity to be together and have good conversations, while having something good to eat, in pleasant and cozy surroundings. My past five parties have been held in gardens, with lots of flowers candles.
It all started during my 18th birthday. We held it in my uncle's large garden. We filled the place with hundreds of candles and torches and we bombarded it with flower petals. There was not an inch ground that didn't have a rose petal on it.
It's been awhile since I last threw a party. I decided it was time. I didn't want a rowdy college bash filled with booze, chips, and loud rock/hiphop music. I wanted real food, swinging latin music, lanterns, flowers, chocolate fondue, and free flowing wine. I wanted all my favorite people there, and I wanted to be able to talk with and hang out with each of them.
And since I knew I wouldn't be able to achieve this on a limited budget, I made my theme "Sharing and Gratitude", but was actually a nice way of saying it's potluck!
The night had 4 surprises:1) People brought real food like baked fish, ribs, and cakes; and not just chips, peanuts, and soda! We had tons of food including two kinds of pasta, salad, funky cheeses on melba toast, chocolate fondue, and an overabundance of red wine.
2) Everyone came! And despite that, I still wished I had invited more people. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to accomodate all my different social groups. But with the amount of food we had, now, I regret not inviting everyone! Also, I realized only after the party that there were a few people I completely forgot to invite in my mad rush to plan. Shucks.
3) Nobody got wasted, nobody wanted to get wasted, and instead, everyone got just a little tipsy on the wine and and caught up with each other. Everyone had a wonderful time and returned to the buffet table more than twice!
4) People left at 4am (after which Nino and I fell asleep on the sofa and woke up at 11:30 am).
Nothing makes me happier than being around the people I love. Every birthday always feels like my best birthday. Every year just seems to top the last!It really was a night of sharing and gratitude!
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Wednesday, April 13, 2005
an unconventional lola
with new corrections added
I write this entry to pay homage to the woman who bestowed on me many of the traits I have now: My grandmother Ester Jimenez, whom her grandchildren lovingly addressed as "Abu" (short for "Abuelita"). Coincidentially, it's her birthday today, something I was unaware of when I began writing yesterday. Maybe she spoke to me without me knowing it. Maybe this special date brings on her presence.
People who knew my Abu growing up have gone on to say that I am the spitting image of her, curly hair and all. I do see it sometimes. We have the same smile, and the same ping-pong-ball cheekbones. I can almost predict what i'll look like when I'm older just by looking at her pictures. I even played her once in a play we apos wrote on the story of her life. I take this as a great compliment, and I always hope that it means I inherited some of her personality as well.
I've gotten to know my Abu more through stories and anecdotes than anything else, so I may have gotten a few names and dates wrong; or worse, I may had made up my own versions of entire stories! To my relatives who read this, feel free to give corrections. Whatever the case, this is the story of a very unconventional lola.
My Abu died in 1998 when I was in 2nd year high school. Before her systems finally gave in, she was comatose for 2 years due to a stroke. For 2 years, her spirit raged on in an already expired body, kept alive by an assortment of tubes inserted in diffferent parts of her body.
I didn't know my lola too well, although I really wish I did. Back then, I was just too young to ever consider sitting down with her and having a conversation with her. I saw her quite often though, at least once a week. She would sometimes drop by our house, in her paisley print outfits. Sometimes, my parents would send me over and I would spend the day at her house, jumping up and down the stairs, examining the framed cross-stitchings on the wall, and eating her famous "hermit cookies".
That's what she named her own baking masterpiece, which was, curiously, the only thing I ever remember her baking. They were hard, round, and tasted like fruitcake. She would give them as gifts on special occasions, and sometimes even if there was no occasion, which is why every Paredes household had an eternal supply of hermit cookies. I believe that if we all excavated our pantries, we would all still find a jar, or a bag of these hermit cookies, still hard, round, and smelling of fruitcake.
This is what little I know of my lola's life. When she was younger, she was a champion swimmer. She learned to swim when her father threw her off a boat, in that harsh teaching ritual they call "baptism by fire". Sink or swim. To me this was a metaphor of how my lola was to live the rest of her life, being plunged into the unknown, and learning to swim to survive.
Sometime during her teen years, she got a cut on her foot that began to fester. The infection began to spread higher up her leg. At the hospital, the doctor examined her, drew a mysterious line across her thigh with a pen, and told her he'd be back to examine her in two days. On the 2nd day, he arrived as promised, and noted that the infection had gone down. It was then that he delivered the news that made young Ester break down. Should it have reached the line he had drawn on her thigh, then the leg would have had to be amputated.
Ester was attractive and grew up with a slew of admirers, one of them Jesus Paredes, who was to become my "Lolo Jess", my father's father. He originally planned to be a Jesuit, but at the desperate pleas of his own father, and the tears of Ester, he decided on a none-sectarian life. He married Ester and they had ten children, number 9 of which was my father, Jim Paredes. Lolo Jess died on March 17, 1957, on the same plane that killed the great former Philippine president Ramon Magsaysay, when it crashed on its flight home from Cebu City. Lolo Jess had been personally invited along by the president on this trip, as he was a writer of the president's speeches.
From then on, Abu was left alone to raise, feed, and educate ten kids, all on her own. They sold their possessions and moved to a much smaller house. She learned to be painstakingly matipid, imposing strict and equal divisions on all provisions she brought home for her children. All food had to be divided exactly into ten equal portions for ten children. "Hating kapatid", they call it.
She learned to be resourceful and to value even the littlest things. A pair of shoes would be passed on from one child to the next, going down the line, and only until it was worn to the end of its life would it be thrown away (my dad would always complain of this, because he was the 9th child, and would therefore always be one of the last in line to inherit the shoes. The same went for clothes). To Abu, every centavo mattered during those times of scarcity.
Then again, she had always been thrifty. When the family house was being built, Abu taught her kids to salvage bent nails from the construction site, the ones that carpenters would throw away because they couldn't be used anymore. She would collect them and make her kids hammer them straight again. The next day, she would present them once again to the carpenters ready for use.
Despite having very little, it is clear to see that her kids grew up very happy. Maybe they didn't have alot of toys, but they had songs and music. They didn't have alot of money but they had laughter. When I hear my aunts and uncles reliving the days of their childhood, it didn't seem like they were lacking in any way. And whether or not they were, one thing is for certain: it sure did give them character. The Paredeses are a wacky and unconventional lot.
Ester eventually remarried, completely against the norms of society at that time. She able to put all of her children through school with the help of scholarships. Her children eventually went off to live their own lives; one became a missionary, a few worked in the government, one went against the government by joining the New Peoples' Army (NPA), and my dad, as you all know, went on to become a famous musician. They all married and bore my Abu grandchildren, 29 of them to be exact!
But the story doesn't end there. In fact, it is at this point where the story really begins, at least for me. This was the era that defined my lola as a woman forged out of steel. It was in the late 1970s, the era of Martial Law. The dictator Ferdinand Marcos occupied the seat of power in the presidential palace.
One Christmas day, Col. Rolando Abadilla and his men arrived on Abu's doorstep. Rolando Abadilla was the head of the Military Intelligence and Security Group (MISG), the elite police of the dictator. He was one of the dictator's major henchmen, powerful, armed, coldblooded, dangerous; he was a man who was not fraid to take aggresive measures to get what he wanted. When the colonel interrgated someone, they trembled in their shoes and followed orders. He was a formidable man, and he was there for one reason: to arrrest Abu and her husband for their alleged involvment in subversive activity.
It is said that at the moment Ester was brought face to face with Col. Rolando Abadilla for questioning, my lola, a little old lady, cussed out vehemently at the fearsome head of the MISG. In other words, minura niya si Abadilla. I don't know exactly what is was she said (probably something along the lines of "p*tangina mo!"), and why she was not killed on the spot, not even Abadilla himself knew. But he was later quoted as saying to one of my uncles: "I have killed people for lesser reasons. I could have slapped your mother that day, but I don't know what stopped me."
Abu sure had a way with words.
Abu and her husband were both placed in Bicutan Prison as political detainees for their involvement in the activist group, the "Light A Fire Movement". Her children, who had had zero knowledge of her involvment in activism till then, all rushed to visit her and demanded to know why, why, why they were never informed of it. Her only answer was said too have been: "Because you would have tried to stop me."
Still, my lola's spirit was indomitable. Even in prison, she kept her cool. She was adored by all, and was called "Mommy" by all the other inmates, even the guards. She taught them how to play tennis. During her trial in court, as the judge and jury mulled over what her sentence would be, she sat there with her knitting needles and a ball of yarn.
Eventually, Ester Jimenez was sentenced to death by electric chair.
I was barely 3 years old when all this was happening. I do not remember ever visiting Abu in jail (although my older sister does). I do not remember the day Abu was released from her 3 year incarceration for "humanitarian reasons", as pressured by "Amnesty International".
All I remember is the little old lady with a smile on her face who would come every now and then to visit us, whose house I spent afternoons in, who would give each of her grand children 20 pesos every Christmas. She attended my first communion. I played her in a short play we wrote about the story of her life, as a birthday present for her (she wore a silver outfit and gold shoes that she had bought for 50 pesos. My Abu, always matipid). I remember how she'd let me play with the wrinkly skin on her arm, and how I'd stretch it, and twist it like it was clay. I found it so fascinating.
I remember the last time I saw her alive and well. She came over in a purple, paisley skirt and blouse combo. A few weeks later, she suffered a stroke that rendered her comatose.
Four years after her death, she was honored by the "Bantayog ng mga Bayani Foundation". Her name appears in gold letters on a monument together with luminaries such as Pepe Diokno, and other heroes of the Martial Law era. My Abu, the woman who raised ten kids and baked hermit cookies, is now a certified bayani, a hero.
And thus, today, her birthday, I pray that the spirit of this woman lives on in her grandchildren. During times of hardship, may we manifest her strength. During times of injustice, may we have the courage to fight for what we believe in. May we have the mettle to carve out our own lives, to let the unknown in. And during the times wherein we feel we have very little, may we, like Abu, see the great abundance that constantly surrounds us.
And lastly, I dont know if any of us have a flair for activism but I do like to complain alot and I think that is an important activist trait.Happy Birthday, Abu!
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Monday, April 11, 2005
We were first introduced by a friend of mine. She had nothing but great things to say about him but I wasn't interested. Back then, he wasn't my type and I was looking for other things.
For several years after that first introduction, we bumped into each other in odd places, very rarely at first, then more and more. He would catch me by surpise in cafes, stores, and even the beach once. I don't know when the very first spore of attraction germinated but it could have been on one of those unplanned meetings.
Eventually, I discovered that we had mutual friends. He'd show up unexepectedly at our getogethers, and would often come along on our afternoon car-rides. I grew more and more familiar with his company, and eventually, our interactions turned into subtle flirting. Still, our meetings remained spontaneous. He would show up uninvited, although I never did mind.
Soon, I found that I couldn't keep him out of my thoughts. He was on my mind constantly. His voice, his words, would haunt me in my daydreams and I found myself feeling a strange longing for him, a strong desire to close my eyes and surrender to him, to be surrounded by him.
And so, this mental foreplay continued on for months during our long car-rides, and our accidental meetings, until the tiny spark of desire had turned into a raging inferno. I had to have him for myself.
And finally, one day, I summoned him into my bedroom. It was our first non-accidental meeting. I had invited him over. I closed the door behind me. Finally, there we were in the intimacy of my quarters, just him and me. At last. This was the moment.
I lay on my bed. I turned him on and soon we were making beautiful music together. He whispered into my ear. We sang to one song. Not just once, but over and over again. And by the 4th time, I knew it was love.
We've been inseparable since then. Everywhere I go, he goes too... in my handbag. (Or in my iPod to be exact!)
Dave Matthews, I love you! It took years for me to finally pick up my own copy of your music, and now you've been playing on my iPod non-stop. Now I can listen to you even when I'm not in Nino's car!
And so I stay in my room, lie on my bed, turn on my iPod, and listen to Dave Matthews.
Why? What on earth were you thinking???
I'm also in-love with Jeff Buckley but he's dead.ano ba?
Damn these strangers trying to get on my Skype account! I've gotten 4 calls the past few days from total strangers. One of them even had the gall to message me things like "where are you?". And when I asked him who he was (just in case he might be someone I actually know), his only answer was "yes". I mean, come on! To me it's the equivalent of making prank calls. Besides, it's so stalker-ish!
That's the problem with the internet. The world becomes so small! Anyone with a modem can reach you.
Come on guys, people deserve privacy with regards to their celphone numbers, e-mail addresses, messenger services (YM, MSN, AOL, etc.) and internet telephony services. Whatever reason you have for contacting me, whether you even know who I am or not, it's not cool. If I don't know you, I will block you. No I do not want to talk to you unless you've got a good reason (i.e. business proposal, long lost relative, etc). Even then, e-mail me or contact me in a way a decent person would.
Sometimes you just gotta grab the bull by the balls when it comes to matters regarding privacy. It's one of those no-win situations wherein if you entertain one stranger, all the other strangers feel like they deserve to be entertained too. Sometimes it's better to just say no.
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Sunday, April 10, 2005
what dreams may come
And now for some Boracay-inspired artwork! Everybody knows about Boracay's famous sunsets! As always, I had to make the image smaller and reduce the file-size therefore sacrificing alot of the original color. I hate that. Oh, well."Cosmic Ocean"- Midafternoon in Boracay. A bowl of light.
"Dancing Sunset"- A pulsating sun illuminates a swirling ocean.
Both were inspired by a dream I had there during an afternoon siesta. Naks! Must've had too much to drink that night. Either that or I watched one too many sunsets. Also, I dream in technicolor.
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Saturday, April 09, 2005
closer
Was finally able to watch "Closer" (Natalie Portman, Julia Roberts, Jude Law, Clive Owen) last night. I fell asleep midway, not because it was boring but because I was so damn tired. Otherwise, it was a very good movie. One of those with deceptively simple storylines, but with such intelligent acting, and richly human interaction amongst the characters, that it makes it anything but. Genuine and intelligent acting, combined with raw conversation puts us face to face with the twisted games people in relationships play on each other.
If you've been in love a couple of times, the movie's stark-reality way of presenting relationships will arouse a bunch of both familiar and uncomfortable feelings. It makes you remember every relationship pain you've ever had and how love can just turn so ugly once spite, and infidelity come into the picture. People hurt each other, use each other.
But at it's core, the story is about four confused, desperate people looking for what they think is real love, and always falling flat because they can never go beyond their own self-love. All the characters can never find fullfillment, can never ultimately reveal their true selves to the other, because they are always worried about their own security. Julia Roberts and Jude Law seemed to be concerned more with "feeling" loved than with loving another person, always keeping one foot out the door, ready to make an escape should they feel the relationship doesn't fullfill them anymore.
In the end, the movie makes you ask yourself if you really ever know the person you're with and vice versa. Sometimes your partner can really seem like your soulnate, the only person who knows and understands you. Other times, being in a relationship can make you feel ever so much more isolated, misunderstood, and alone. Do we spend more time keeping secrets from each other than showing who we really are?
We're always told that everyone has to keep a part of themselves only for themselves, for safekeeping. "Don't ever give your whole self away", they tell us. "Keep a little something for yourself." Is to love with your whole self ever really possible then? Just how much of ourselves can we keep while still loving genuinely and honestly? Is it better if the other person doesn't know some parts of you? After all, we do keep it secret for a reason.
*** Natalie Portman is this generation's Audrey Hepburn. Was never a fan of hers till now.
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Monday, April 04, 2005
quiet
No, I was not abducted by rebels while I was in Davao. I am alive, safe, and well, and I am here to stay. Well, for the mean time at least. Seems like I'm always jetting of somewhere. The past two weeks were spent in Davao and Boracay. Hello summer!
Davao to me will always be Buenavista Island (aka "Small Ligid"), Eden Mountain Resort, and the warm, welcoming hospitality of one of the coolest families I know: our relatives, the Ayalas!
Small Ligid is one of my favorite islands in the world. Sure, Seychelles and Boracay are both gorgeous, but this island is the most special because my childhood will always be intertwined with memories of all the golden summers I spent there, courtesy of the Ayalas. It's a beautiful place, white sand, aqua waters, and a regular display of "natural artwork": driftwood washed up on the shore. The island is a nature preserve and is only as big as 3 football fields. You can walk around it in less than an hour. But the best part is, everytime we stay there, we have the entire island to ourselves, save for a small island staff!
What made this trip particularly special is that I was able to bring Nino along. I've always wanted him to see it.
We spent three days waking up at 7am, kayaking around the island, playing with Ananda, eating huge buffet meals, eating fresh uni right out of the sea urchin (ah, heaven!), and learning how to hunt for octupi during the night time (quite a grisly experience I must say).
After three days on the island, we spent three days in the mountains at Eden Nature Park. There's something so laid back about being there, tearing around the mountain on a golf-cart picking herbs, strolling through the flower gardens, and kicking back with Nino and Mio in a tiny kubo overlooking the gulf, and watching the clouds.
We celebrated Nino's 24th birthday high up on a hilltop, under the stars, with a bowl of salsa, a bag of chips, a bottle of wine, a guitar, and a fantastic view of a moonlit ocean and the islands surrounding Davao.noise
Imagine yourself sprawled on your new sarong (300 pesos from the talipapa!), toes digging into powder-fine, immaculate, white sand, gazing out into a dancing ocean stained pink and orange by a fantastic sunset. A boat sails peacefully across the horizon. Savoring your banana-choco-peanut shake from Jonah's, you lean back, sigh, and congratulate yourself for being able to afford paradise, far away from family/classmates/ work mates and "real life", at least for a few days.
AND THEN YOU HEAR IT, dark and menacing:doogsh dagsh doogsh dagsh doogsh dagsh...
You think, "What the f---?". House music? At the beach???
With your bubble of bliss shattered, you look around for the first time and realize that there are 500 other people in your immediate vicinity also admiring the sunset and sipping Jona's shakes. And wait, isn't that your boss over there several sarongs away from you?
Welcome to Boracay!!!: A paradise whose pure shores have been marred by screaming red, white, and black Addict Mobile posters, tents, inflatables, booths, and lanterns. What an eye-sore! Globe at least had the decency to put a lovely, palm-tree design on their lanterns that blended in nicely with the ambience.
It's the place to go if you want to see all the Makati clubbing scene people you desperately wanted to escape from in the first place. Just head to Cocomangas on a Boracay weekend. It's Manila with sand!
Want even more of Manila culture? Just head off to the Addict Mobile "exclusive" Hed Kendi party at Hey Judes! To ensure maximum exclusivity, they even fenced in the party area with white, canvas walls! Never mind the sand, ocean, and sky. Forget Boracay's natural ambience. Just enclose yourself within the exclusive canvas walls and party the night away, just like you do at home!
Or wait, why don't you save your money and just stay in Manila instead?
Maybe the whole Boracay experience would have been different if I hadn't just come from a quiet, peaceful Davao trip. I had my moments of bliss before and after the weekend, when all the Manila people were still, well, in Manila. These blissful moments were spent learning how to windsurf in Bulabog (I can now legitimately say that I know how to windsurf!), eating, sleeping, watching the sunset, and hanging out with good friends over beer and good conversation. Also, I got to watch Session Road play, and there was dancing, and singing, and good, steady fun that you can't get often in Manila.
Now you all think I'm a killjoy loser with a big L-shaped sunburn on my forehead. I'm really not. I just think that if you're going to have fun in Boracay, you don't do it the Manila way. There's such a thing as noise pollution, and ad pollution. Then again, this is all just personal preference (also, I like to complain :-p). I'm not the Hed Kendi type. And I'm not an Addict Mobile subscriber. Everyone knows I have that blue, blinky light in my eyes that signifies my Globe-ness. Just kidding! It's not a loyalty issue at all. I would say the same about Globe if they littered the beach with pictures of big, blue Gs.
So there. Boracay way absolutely great, even if I didn't show my face at any parties.smoke
Nino and I frequented a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant called Smoke (***thanks to Harald for the referral!:-) ). It had good food, good prices, good music, bad service, and a bad location, right smack in the middle of the wet market. But we came every single day anyway.
It may have been in the palengke, but at night, the whole place transformed into a warm, glowing, bowl of colors. What a treat to the eye! I went shutter-happy. Wish I could show all of the pictures, but there's such a thing as bandwidth.
Here are some of the best ones! Wish I could show them full-quality.
I love the Philippines!
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