merry christmas...
off to a prosperous week of words, flash, and plates.
mabubuo na ang mga plato.
inigo is dumaguete and dipolog bound.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
SAYAW (2 SA 2)
Ako dapat
ang ilaw na sumasayaw
sa iyong katawan,
ang pawis
na humahaplos
sa iyong mga labi.
Ako dapat
ang s'yang ritmong tumutugtog
sa bawat mong hakbang,
ang pagod
na sumasamo
sa nagbabadyang gabi.
Ako dapat.
ang ilaw na sumasayaw
sa iyong katawan,
ang pawis
na humahaplos
sa iyong mga labi.
Ako dapat
ang s'yang ritmong tumutugtog
sa bawat mong hakbang,
ang pagod
na sumasamo
sa nagbabadyang gabi.
Ako dapat.
SAYAW (1 SA 2)
the white space is painted of moving lines, transient circles transforming into hues, complementing the rambunctious pulse of the evening stereo.
i hear the beat; it speaks of the moving distance as you gyrate into the epiphany of your madness - a collapsing melody made between you and the secrecy i hold within.
the crowd becomes a flood of unknown shadows, emphasizing the movement of your hips and the envy of that one that holds them.
i am your shadow and that becomes me, until the sunrise voluntarily sweeps the madness within, until the hips slip into its day fall, until i become a person, distinct and whole,
yet unknown.
i hear the beat; it speaks of the moving distance as you gyrate into the epiphany of your madness - a collapsing melody made between you and the secrecy i hold within.
the crowd becomes a flood of unknown shadows, emphasizing the movement of your hips and the envy of that one that holds them.
i am your shadow and that becomes me, until the sunrise voluntarily sweeps the madness within, until the hips slip into its day fall, until i become a person, distinct and whole,
yet unknown.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
kaboom
The self ponders on his condition - a state of mind wandering off to somewhere, anywhere but here. anywhere but here. the physical torture, the psychological battle, the mental mindplay.
it all works out into the desolation, a place cramped in the unused files of office clutter. yeah, this clutter. what a glorious sound it makes.
growing into mountains,mountains circled on mountains, growing, mountains, drawing mind clocks, clicking right, left, right, left, until you get hypnotized...
right, left, click, clock, click, clock, until you get engulfed by it. hypnotized, deceived into believing, the mountains, these clocks, the piles of edits and edits, wasted time, wasted pencil traces, arrogant slavedrivers, this sarcastic place is all where you will be, the place where you belong. the place where you are meant to be.
click, clock, click, clock.
it's almost saturday. and the clock begins again, hypnotizing. making you believe.
this sarcasm.
click.
clock.
kaboom.
it all works out into the desolation, a place cramped in the unused files of office clutter. yeah, this clutter. what a glorious sound it makes.
growing into mountains,mountains circled on mountains, growing, mountains, drawing mind clocks, clicking right, left, right, left, until you get hypnotized...
right, left, click, clock, click, clock, until you get engulfed by it. hypnotized, deceived into believing, the mountains, these clocks, the piles of edits and edits, wasted time, wasted pencil traces, arrogant slavedrivers, this sarcastic place is all where you will be, the place where you belong. the place where you are meant to be.
click, clock, click, clock.
it's almost saturday. and the clock begins again, hypnotizing. making you believe.
this sarcasm.
click.
clock.
kaboom.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
lions cum lambs
To see lions – ferocious, wild creatures with roars feared and respected – is a scary feat per se.
But the scarier thought comes to mind:
These lions – gargantuan and now so becoming – were once little lambs, soft-spoken, innocent lambs, sacrificial yet determined.
And that is how the food chain goes in this jungle.
And that is how these lions will always be.
But the scarier thought comes to mind:
These lions – gargantuan and now so becoming – were once little lambs, soft-spoken, innocent lambs, sacrificial yet determined.
And that is how the food chain goes in this jungle.
And that is how these lions will always be.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
...
DUMAAN
Maswerte ka.
Inaalalayan ka ng tula
Binubuo sa iyo ang kanta.
Sagot ka ng kanyang mga
Panalangin
Hawak mo ang kanyang mga
mata.
Ang kamay na hindi ko maangkin,
Ang mga dasal na hindi matutupad,
Ang kantang kulang sa huni,
Ang tulang hindi makabuo ng saknong.
Maswerte pa rin ako at
KA
...
isinulat nang dumaan ka.
Maswerte ka.
Inaalalayan ka ng tula
Binubuo sa iyo ang kanta.
Sagot ka ng kanyang mga
Panalangin
Hawak mo ang kanyang mga
mata.
Ang kamay na hindi ko maangkin,
Ang mga dasal na hindi matutupad,
Ang kantang kulang sa huni,
Ang tulang hindi makabuo ng saknong.
Maswerte pa rin ako at
KA
...
isinulat nang dumaan ka.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
...and then she hits fifteen past twelve
and then she hits it - confusing the next hour with doldrums, sleep, doldrums, nap, doldrums, weak, doldrums, droopy eyes, dolrums, yawning, doldrums, counting sheeps, doldrums - and the world, his day, is watching her minute exercise, like a coordinated reflex from a yoga session, only in slow-mo.
the day is half-way through, and the day is becoming a long stride of that magnestic quest, that hunger, for some fruitful endeavor - something mentally
edible, digestible, ah, salivating.
but at least the sight here, visually, is the stimulation of those fries, twisted and fat, delectable and yes, forbidden.
too much salt perhaps. or too much cholesterol for my heart to pump.
it's too much to bear, really. my system is about to excrete them in a matter of time - when it finally decides these fries are not worth their momentary bliss, after all. finally.
the good thing about these fries, though is that i consume them mentally, in the figurative confines of my lost digestives - at least for now, until they get excreted.
and they, these fries, the imaginative fiction that they have become - twisted and forbidden - satisfies the hunger that lurks when she hits fifteen past twelve.
the day is half-way through, and the day is becoming a long stride of that magnestic quest, that hunger, for some fruitful endeavor - something mentally
edible, digestible, ah, salivating.
but at least the sight here, visually, is the stimulation of those fries, twisted and fat, delectable and yes, forbidden.
too much salt perhaps. or too much cholesterol for my heart to pump.
it's too much to bear, really. my system is about to excrete them in a matter of time - when it finally decides these fries are not worth their momentary bliss, after all. finally.
the good thing about these fries, though is that i consume them mentally, in the figurative confines of my lost digestives - at least for now, until they get excreted.
and they, these fries, the imaginative fiction that they have become - twisted and forbidden - satisfies the hunger that lurks when she hits fifteen past twelve.
before she hits twelve...
...a lazy thought before the afternoon break - a quiet relaxing stroll in an imaginative town, an indecisive place for the lunch feast, a haunting growl of the digestives.
and that celebrated partner, that chance of the lifetime - a marriage perhaps, more so a romantic ceremony of i do's and you dont's.
and the reality that abrupts everything - the digestives.
it's famished. so are my thoughts.
one bowl of perspective to feed the mind, coming in thirty strikes of the mother hand.
and that celebrated partner, that chance of the lifetime - a marriage perhaps, more so a romantic ceremony of i do's and you dont's.
and the reality that abrupts everything - the digestives.
it's famished. so are my thoughts.
one bowl of perspective to feed the mind, coming in thirty strikes of the mother hand.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
OCTOBER 20
the day marks my first anniversary with my comma.
congratulations batchmates.
more comma cpa anniversaries to come.
congratulations batchmates.
more comma cpa anniversaries to come.
Monday, October 19, 2009
and the results are...
And the results are…
I thus become the bearer of news – good and bad – for my friends who have recently taken their CPA Board Examinations. I thus become the excitement that enveloped myself a year less a day before. I thus become the mask – the cheerful glee of victory, that triumph after bruises and the almost disgrace; and the melancholic sarcasm of sorrow, of that unwanted news.
Announcing the board results to my friends equated to being Saint Peter on Judgment Day or the self-assured host on your reality show’s grand finale.
It was insane. It was glorious. It was terrifying.
There run the anticipation – then, the sudden outburst of “he made it through” and the quick relapse of “are you sure this is the list?” It was like a year ago, only the list surmounts to the victory and defeat of a new batch of accountants – only that I delivered the news instead of anticipating it.
The good part.
My three batchmates gladly received their delayed blessings today. Arianne, the David Beckham fanatic, managed to juggle her workload with her review schedule.
Cyndi, who couldn’t take the exams with us due to health reasons, knew this blessing was a long time coming.
And to Charelyn, my Kaibigang Charelyn, you know we have won the battle together. God has been our ally.
Accountancy Batch 2009 garnered 82% passing rate, an outstanding feat for my alma mater Silliman University. Congratulations guys.
The bad part.
But with the passing rate comes the remaining 18% of the population – the lesser self-explanatory side of the coin. I choose not to mingle on this ratio knowing that faith will recalculate the results and turn this percentage into that ‘delayed blessing.’
And the sad part – the saddest part, really – of the ratio is my brother, my best bud for all these years, did not make it through. I know God has written the better purpose for why He has chosen him not to experience victory today.
Therefore, why should not be the connecting question – but weren’t our prayers not enough? Has He become tone-deaf of requests and hymns for successful battles?
And then I ponder on Faith and how He magically threads life into an amazing web of blessing, on how He utters viola and you become enchanted on how He fixes all the illusions the black cloud created – and yes, the prayers are answered; He indeed sings the requests and hymns for successful battles.
Maybe not now Dave, not today. Just remember, it’s not about having the comma on time – it’s about having it on the right time. And when it’s the right time, it’s God time.
---
Become the bearer of the news – click on the link provided below:
http://www.picpa.com.ph/announcements/2009-2010/ncpa_oct2009.pdf
CONGATULATIONS!
I thus become the bearer of news – good and bad – for my friends who have recently taken their CPA Board Examinations. I thus become the excitement that enveloped myself a year less a day before. I thus become the mask – the cheerful glee of victory, that triumph after bruises and the almost disgrace; and the melancholic sarcasm of sorrow, of that unwanted news.
Announcing the board results to my friends equated to being Saint Peter on Judgment Day or the self-assured host on your reality show’s grand finale.
It was insane. It was glorious. It was terrifying.
There run the anticipation – then, the sudden outburst of “he made it through” and the quick relapse of “are you sure this is the list?” It was like a year ago, only the list surmounts to the victory and defeat of a new batch of accountants – only that I delivered the news instead of anticipating it.
The good part.
My three batchmates gladly received their delayed blessings today. Arianne, the David Beckham fanatic, managed to juggle her workload with her review schedule.
Cyndi, who couldn’t take the exams with us due to health reasons, knew this blessing was a long time coming.
And to Charelyn, my Kaibigang Charelyn, you know we have won the battle together. God has been our ally.
Accountancy Batch 2009 garnered 82% passing rate, an outstanding feat for my alma mater Silliman University. Congratulations guys.
The bad part.
But with the passing rate comes the remaining 18% of the population – the lesser self-explanatory side of the coin. I choose not to mingle on this ratio knowing that faith will recalculate the results and turn this percentage into that ‘delayed blessing.’
And the sad part – the saddest part, really – of the ratio is my brother, my best bud for all these years, did not make it through. I know God has written the better purpose for why He has chosen him not to experience victory today.
Therefore, why should not be the connecting question – but weren’t our prayers not enough? Has He become tone-deaf of requests and hymns for successful battles?
And then I ponder on Faith and how He magically threads life into an amazing web of blessing, on how He utters viola and you become enchanted on how He fixes all the illusions the black cloud created – and yes, the prayers are answered; He indeed sings the requests and hymns for successful battles.
Maybe not now Dave, not today. Just remember, it’s not about having the comma on time – it’s about having it on the right time. And when it’s the right time, it’s God time.
---
Become the bearer of the news – click on the link provided below:
http://www.picpa.com.ph/announcements/2009-2010/ncpa_oct2009.pdf
CONGATULATIONS!
Sunday, October 11, 2009
job
SO MY FRIEND DOES QOUTE:
"my job is like having a sugar mommy. You get a lot from her - money, experience, and the occassional drama...
...but you don't necessarily have to love her."
---
nice job. it made my (pay)day.
"my job is like having a sugar mommy. You get a lot from her - money, experience, and the occassional drama...
...but you don't necessarily have to love her."
---
nice job. it made my (pay)day.
SUNDAY
...to whom do i oblige myself: to God or to Office?
the latter is a living; the former, the reason for living.
...to whom shall I dedicate.
...to whom shall i choose.
...sadly, my doing does not comprehend my want for praising.
---
this is a sad reality of working for a firm that mistakenly treats Sunday as the first hours of the regular workweek. It's not mandatory though, but when you are part of a 'team' that has religiously dedicated their Sabbath to praising financial papers instead of the Gospel, then you are oblige to convert to this cult and praise the hysteria of a thousand edits.
it's not worth it i tell. the first message i read on my cellphone was 'to come to the office early to dispose comments on the financial statements.' and the first word that came out of a supposedly holy day was a cursed word - the tagalog equivalent of a prostitute, a whore - my quick response to the schedule this cult has placed me today.
and the rant goes the whole morning, even on my second chance for a coordinated sleep. and it continues, my mouth eventually subsiding as it reaches a halt on a famished hour.
and so i did come, the early - the early afternoon. about two, thirty minutes past two, to be exact. and i write this, yes, in the airconditioned synagogue of the cult i am falsely following.
the ritual shall last for hours - even extending for the forty plus hours of a regular work week. and then another extension, the full fiscal year perhaps.
but the God above wants only mere minutes of my time - sixty minutes of undivided attention. sixty minutes and quiet prayers whispered at night.
that is what He wants. that is all He needs from me.
...to whom do i oblige: to God or to Office?
...of who does love me unconditional: to God or to Office?
...to whom shall i answer the call: to God or to God?
...off to sixty minutes and quiet prayers whispered at night.
the latter is a living; the former, the reason for living.
...to whom shall I dedicate.
...to whom shall i choose.
...sadly, my doing does not comprehend my want for praising.
---
this is a sad reality of working for a firm that mistakenly treats Sunday as the first hours of the regular workweek. It's not mandatory though, but when you are part of a 'team' that has religiously dedicated their Sabbath to praising financial papers instead of the Gospel, then you are oblige to convert to this cult and praise the hysteria of a thousand edits.
it's not worth it i tell. the first message i read on my cellphone was 'to come to the office early to dispose comments on the financial statements.' and the first word that came out of a supposedly holy day was a cursed word - the tagalog equivalent of a prostitute, a whore - my quick response to the schedule this cult has placed me today.
and the rant goes the whole morning, even on my second chance for a coordinated sleep. and it continues, my mouth eventually subsiding as it reaches a halt on a famished hour.
and so i did come, the early - the early afternoon. about two, thirty minutes past two, to be exact. and i write this, yes, in the airconditioned synagogue of the cult i am falsely following.
the ritual shall last for hours - even extending for the forty plus hours of a regular work week. and then another extension, the full fiscal year perhaps.
but the God above wants only mere minutes of my time - sixty minutes of undivided attention. sixty minutes and quiet prayers whispered at night.
that is what He wants. that is all He needs from me.
...to whom do i oblige: to God or to Office?
...of who does love me unconditional: to God or to Office?
...to whom shall i answer the call: to God or to God?
...off to sixty minutes and quiet prayers whispered at night.
Friday, October 9, 2009
OCTOBER RAIN
here are tiny specks of the october rain - some are drizzles, some, heavy continuing storms, unending, violent and unseen:
1. Tom Thumb - belittled despite my height, unseen despite my skin. they will know my worth soon enough. but not from the clutter this boring office makes. not from the evil beasts of suits and well-pressed blazers (one just incidentally passed by - the beast of all my jungle nightmares.) i am in drought, despite the unforgiving flood Ondoy created.
2. publication - followed blogs of word-driven acquaintances. i am not alone in the world after all - thinking of their words makes me sane. oh, when oh when can i write again. pro-bono writing stint, anyone?
3. advertising - finally sent an editted email to someone who might be the answer to my call. sir, kindly answer the soonest.
4. hunger - writing about the old place of misery, where both the broth and the spices speak of the dumaguete boulevard, of those once broken dreams.
5. release - the financial statements shall soon be released. finally, i could be free from the hunger Tom Thumb aches. never undermine a writer i tell you. never undermine.
6. survivor - outwit.outplay.outlast. interestingly enough, the philippine version outwits my initial apprehensions. survivor samoa, like previous seasons, is a must-see. when will russell be booted out?
7. celebration - my father will turn fifty in a matter of days. grand celebration, old man?
seven days. seven rains. some blissful, some desolate and unwarming - coming with or without warning. some...some..some.
1. Tom Thumb - belittled despite my height, unseen despite my skin. they will know my worth soon enough. but not from the clutter this boring office makes. not from the evil beasts of suits and well-pressed blazers (one just incidentally passed by - the beast of all my jungle nightmares.) i am in drought, despite the unforgiving flood Ondoy created.
2. publication - followed blogs of word-driven acquaintances. i am not alone in the world after all - thinking of their words makes me sane. oh, when oh when can i write again. pro-bono writing stint, anyone?
3. advertising - finally sent an editted email to someone who might be the answer to my call. sir, kindly answer the soonest.
4. hunger - writing about the old place of misery, where both the broth and the spices speak of the dumaguete boulevard, of those once broken dreams.
5. release - the financial statements shall soon be released. finally, i could be free from the hunger Tom Thumb aches. never undermine a writer i tell you. never undermine.
6. survivor - outwit.outplay.outlast. interestingly enough, the philippine version outwits my initial apprehensions. survivor samoa, like previous seasons, is a must-see. when will russell be booted out?
7. celebration - my father will turn fifty in a matter of days. grand celebration, old man?
seven days. seven rains. some blissful, some desolate and unwarming - coming with or without warning. some...some..some.
Monday, September 28, 2009
sir soldier toy
i chanced upon the attic and saw my old wooden toy box, now draped in patterned cobwebs and grey aging dusts. The place reeks of that once familiar smell, the becoming remnants of a secret paradise and the subject of mom’s frequent scolding. i approached him and shrieks orchestrated themselves from the attic’s depreciated flooring, equally compensating the uncomfortable silence marooning within my mind. And alas, there he was – still full of his glory, a king untouched from his thrown and I, a child, beholden in the corners of his childhood past. His skin has aged; his knobs rusted by years of being barren, of being unnoticed, unharmed. But still there he stood, still dignified and strong – the friend of my playground, the guardian of my treasures.
he humbly unlocked himself and unfolded from within my prized resources. These childhood toys arranged in disorganized, playful manner were much like my office clutter – only, they were more enjoyable than repeats of statement drafts and plain, uninviting letters. There were the mythical cars, transforming into figures upon my command. And the kids from Angel Grove High, saving the world when it’s morphin’ time. There were those freebies from the afternoon meals – products of the demanding only child. And the stacks of cards for gamble and for play, the relentless pursuit to outwit the last lost game.
and there was my first soldier toy, still tucked in his grey camouflage suit – an arm and foot removed from those selfish games I placed him into. He remained in duty, his purple heart corroded from years of distant wandering. His face is hesitantly tired from battles waged in time; his dirt eyes stricken with guilt of lost and surrender.
so I picked up the glue and some plastic tape for fix. then, repaired his broken pieces, and reflexed his motionless bolts. His arm and foot have been loosely reconnected; the glue almost dried together with tapes sloppily plastered around his waist. I propped up his stature, and stared at him like a general respected by his field. Sweat transpired from my brows to the dusty strips of the attic. at last.
after years of being broken, sir soldier toy is ready in service again – but not as tough and good-looking as it used to.
“but at least its fixed, Nino…
I said to myself,
…it’s fixed.”
--
there’s more to soldier toys and purple hearts. it’s fixed, finally.
he humbly unlocked himself and unfolded from within my prized resources. These childhood toys arranged in disorganized, playful manner were much like my office clutter – only, they were more enjoyable than repeats of statement drafts and plain, uninviting letters. There were the mythical cars, transforming into figures upon my command. And the kids from Angel Grove High, saving the world when it’s morphin’ time. There were those freebies from the afternoon meals – products of the demanding only child. And the stacks of cards for gamble and for play, the relentless pursuit to outwit the last lost game.
and there was my first soldier toy, still tucked in his grey camouflage suit – an arm and foot removed from those selfish games I placed him into. He remained in duty, his purple heart corroded from years of distant wandering. His face is hesitantly tired from battles waged in time; his dirt eyes stricken with guilt of lost and surrender.
so I picked up the glue and some plastic tape for fix. then, repaired his broken pieces, and reflexed his motionless bolts. His arm and foot have been loosely reconnected; the glue almost dried together with tapes sloppily plastered around his waist. I propped up his stature, and stared at him like a general respected by his field. Sweat transpired from my brows to the dusty strips of the attic. at last.
after years of being broken, sir soldier toy is ready in service again – but not as tough and good-looking as it used to.
“but at least its fixed, Nino…
I said to myself,
…it’s fixed.”
--
there’s more to soldier toys and purple hearts. it’s fixed, finally.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
SNOOZE
early morning sky about to set,
roosters about to sing.
here i am lounging, eyes almost at a closed.
my day has just ended, a taxi cab will do.
at quarter to eight, earlier even,
another day shall voluntarily begin -
the cycle repeating itself.
into the deep slumber we plunge...
into silent prayers we go into deep.
good night.
good day.
(yawn)
at last.
roosters about to sing.
here i am lounging, eyes almost at a closed.
my day has just ended, a taxi cab will do.
at quarter to eight, earlier even,
another day shall voluntarily begin -
the cycle repeating itself.
into the deep slumber we plunge...
into silent prayers we go into deep.
good night.
good day.
(yawn)
at last.
SIGAW: SAMU'T SARI'T SAPIIN SAPIN
MALCA
Malca no longer holds his hand
For she’s too far away.
Now, his holding another,
There’s nothing left to say.
GRASA
Akala ko kung may sarili ka nang mundong ikinukubli sa magagaspang at maiitim na sulok ng iyong nagdaang katawan, wala ka nang alam, wala ka nang pakialam sa kamunduhan ng mapusok ng dati mong kapiligaran – ang maingay na usok na ginagalawan namin ngayon.
Ngunit habang nag-aabang ako sa kanto ng jeep para ihatid ang taong dating humahawak sa kamay ni Malca at ang mga kamay na pumalit sa mga ito, lumapit ka at huminggi ng limang piso.
At habang inaabot ko sa iyo ang munting Aguinaldo, naisip ko kabilang ka pa rin pala sa aming mapusok na daigdig.
Higit sa lahat, mas mahirap palang mamuhay sa dalawang ginagalawang mundo.
SAKAYAN
Lumiko tayo’t sumakay pa-timog, ngunit hilaga ang ating inaasam. Dumaan tayo pa-kanluran; naglakad pa-silangan.
Hininihingal ka’t napatawa lang ako.
Minamasdan kitang hinihingal – bilang kaibigan (hingang hinihingal)…bilang kaibigan.
BUENDIA
Susunod na istasyon. Buenda Station.
Apat na taon din tayong hindi nag-usap nang ganoon katagal.
Dalawang taon din akong nanabik para mamasdan kita muli.
At habang nag-iisa ako dito sa tren – palakbay pa-uwi, naisip kong okey na pala ang lahat. Sarili ko lang ang gumugulo sa sitwasyon.
Hindi ko itatangging matagal at taimtim kong pinalangin ang araw na ito – at sa Diyos, lubos akong nagpapasalamat.
At sa iyo, bagong kaibigan ng aking nakaraan, hanggang sa muling pagkikita…hanggang sa muling pagkikita…
Malca no longer holds his hand
For she’s too far away.
Now, his holding another,
There’s nothing left to say.
GRASA
Akala ko kung may sarili ka nang mundong ikinukubli sa magagaspang at maiitim na sulok ng iyong nagdaang katawan, wala ka nang alam, wala ka nang pakialam sa kamunduhan ng mapusok ng dati mong kapiligaran – ang maingay na usok na ginagalawan namin ngayon.
Ngunit habang nag-aabang ako sa kanto ng jeep para ihatid ang taong dating humahawak sa kamay ni Malca at ang mga kamay na pumalit sa mga ito, lumapit ka at huminggi ng limang piso.
At habang inaabot ko sa iyo ang munting Aguinaldo, naisip ko kabilang ka pa rin pala sa aming mapusok na daigdig.
Higit sa lahat, mas mahirap palang mamuhay sa dalawang ginagalawang mundo.
SAKAYAN
Lumiko tayo’t sumakay pa-timog, ngunit hilaga ang ating inaasam. Dumaan tayo pa-kanluran; naglakad pa-silangan.
Hininihingal ka’t napatawa lang ako.
Minamasdan kitang hinihingal – bilang kaibigan (hingang hinihingal)…bilang kaibigan.
BUENDIA
Susunod na istasyon. Buenda Station.
Apat na taon din tayong hindi nag-usap nang ganoon katagal.
Dalawang taon din akong nanabik para mamasdan kita muli.
At habang nag-iisa ako dito sa tren – palakbay pa-uwi, naisip kong okey na pala ang lahat. Sarili ko lang ang gumugulo sa sitwasyon.
Hindi ko itatangging matagal at taimtim kong pinalangin ang araw na ito – at sa Diyos, lubos akong nagpapasalamat.
At sa iyo, bagong kaibigan ng aking nakaraan, hanggang sa muling pagkikita…hanggang sa muling pagkikita…
Thursday, September 10, 2009
VIS-A-VIS
Nada Nada Nada
The choice is simple.
I’m meeting you, of whom I have waited for years – the answer to prayers secretly, fervently whispered at night.
I’m meeting you, for it’s been quite some time – gently reminiscing quiet chats we used to share.
I’m meeting you, despite that this Saturday I have to attend a corporate meeting – yes, even in a Saturday.
But what would I benefit, should I sit, silently with boredom, in that boardroom and pretend to grasp issues and resolutions of which I care little about.
But really, the meeting would go on anyway without my presence, even without my voice.
But I would not let this Saturday go without feeling your presence, without hearing your voice.
And so I shall see you, this Saturday.
For the choice is simple.
Happy birthday former stranger.
Happy birthday
The choice is simple.
I’m meeting you, of whom I have waited for years – the answer to prayers secretly, fervently whispered at night.
I’m meeting you, for it’s been quite some time – gently reminiscing quiet chats we used to share.
I’m meeting you, despite that this Saturday I have to attend a corporate meeting – yes, even in a Saturday.
But what would I benefit, should I sit, silently with boredom, in that boardroom and pretend to grasp issues and resolutions of which I care little about.
But really, the meeting would go on anyway without my presence, even without my voice.
But I would not let this Saturday go without feeling your presence, without hearing your voice.
And so I shall see you, this Saturday.
For the choice is simple.
Happy birthday former stranger.
Happy birthday
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
SIGAW: LIMANG DAHILAN ! LIMANG DAHILAN ?
...
LIMANG DAHILAN PARA MAHALIN ANG TRABAHO !
1.) Magpasalamat at may trabaho ka. Pasalamat at may hanapbuhay ka.
2.) Pinaghirapan mo ito ng higit limang taon.
3.) Nagdasal ka ng taimtim sa Maykapal na marating mo ang estadong ito.
4.) Gusto mo ng overtime, maliban sa araw ng Linggo. Night owl ka kasi.
5.) Na-aaply mo na ang mga turo at aral sa kolehiyo.
...
LIMANG DAHILAN PARA MAHALIN ANG TRABAHO ?
1.) Ang trabaho ang hanapbuhay mo; ngunit nagsusulat ka para mabuhay.
2.) Pinaghirapan mo ang limang taon dahil dikta ito ng utak mo, hindi dahil ng puso mo.
3.) Pinagdasal mo ang estadong ito dahil nasimulan mo na ang limang taon, at nais mo na itong matapos. Gusto mo nang ipanalangin ang trabahong pinakaaasam mo.
4.) Gusto mo ng overtime sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo o di kaya’y bumuo ng bagong konsepto para sa programa at patalastas, kahit sa araw ng Linggo. Creative Night owl ka kasi.
5.) Kung babalik ka sa kolehiyo, ibang kurso ang tiyak na kukunin mo.
---
! ? MAGULO.
LIMANG DAHILAN PARA MAHALIN ANG TRABAHO !
1.) Magpasalamat at may trabaho ka. Pasalamat at may hanapbuhay ka.
2.) Pinaghirapan mo ito ng higit limang taon.
3.) Nagdasal ka ng taimtim sa Maykapal na marating mo ang estadong ito.
4.) Gusto mo ng overtime, maliban sa araw ng Linggo. Night owl ka kasi.
5.) Na-aaply mo na ang mga turo at aral sa kolehiyo.
...
LIMANG DAHILAN PARA MAHALIN ANG TRABAHO ?
1.) Ang trabaho ang hanapbuhay mo; ngunit nagsusulat ka para mabuhay.
2.) Pinaghirapan mo ang limang taon dahil dikta ito ng utak mo, hindi dahil ng puso mo.
3.) Pinagdasal mo ang estadong ito dahil nasimulan mo na ang limang taon, at nais mo na itong matapos. Gusto mo nang ipanalangin ang trabahong pinakaaasam mo.
4.) Gusto mo ng overtime sa pagsusulat ng mga artikulo o di kaya’y bumuo ng bagong konsepto para sa programa at patalastas, kahit sa araw ng Linggo. Creative Night owl ka kasi.
5.) Kung babalik ka sa kolehiyo, ibang kurso ang tiyak na kukunin mo.
---
! ? MAGULO.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
SIGAW: KRISIS
---
a sudden high,
a sudden low.
a sudden gush,
a sudden blow.
of years to wait,
of years to dream,
of years of not doing,
of years of not belonging.
there will always be a stop – a time where one wishes that he had lived a different life, if only he had chosen to follow the road and crossed that detour a few years ago. but then again, had he chosen the other path, he may not have met an unfamiliar stranger, this person who changed his direction, his route for the time being.
but then again, the comma he now has is nothing but an extention of his surname, much like a father’s junior or his grandfather’s the third. only that the corporate savages see a market value in it, a mark, a testament to four or five years of burning brows and bushes, figuratively at least. and he lives in this world of savages – chaotic, cruel, unforgiving. and fortunately or unfortunately, he may become one of them, sooner or later - not out of will, but out of need.
he is not made to count numbers nor to create magical formulas for computations to become an entertaining game, or an inescapable labyrinth. he is not created to analyze increases and decreases of accounts and to materialize a certain percentage of creativity out of it. he is not meant for understanding numerous transactions and documenting the same like published articles in a collegiate newspaper.
he is simply this – a mad man formulae dosed to create a percentage of published articles in some free world atmosphere.
and that, he is not doing, nor he, becoming. at least, for now. at most, not for now.
but then, until when? until when stranger, until when…
a sudden high,
a sudden low.
a sudden gush,
a sudden blow.
of years to wait,
of years to dream,
of years of not doing,
of years of not belonging.
there will always be a stop – a time where one wishes that he had lived a different life, if only he had chosen to follow the road and crossed that detour a few years ago. but then again, had he chosen the other path, he may not have met an unfamiliar stranger, this person who changed his direction, his route for the time being.
but then again, the comma he now has is nothing but an extention of his surname, much like a father’s junior or his grandfather’s the third. only that the corporate savages see a market value in it, a mark, a testament to four or five years of burning brows and bushes, figuratively at least. and he lives in this world of savages – chaotic, cruel, unforgiving. and fortunately or unfortunately, he may become one of them, sooner or later - not out of will, but out of need.
he is not made to count numbers nor to create magical formulas for computations to become an entertaining game, or an inescapable labyrinth. he is not created to analyze increases and decreases of accounts and to materialize a certain percentage of creativity out of it. he is not meant for understanding numerous transactions and documenting the same like published articles in a collegiate newspaper.
he is simply this – a mad man formulae dosed to create a percentage of published articles in some free world atmosphere.
and that, he is not doing, nor he, becoming. at least, for now. at most, not for now.
but then, until when? until when stranger, until when…
TWENTY-TWO THOUGHTS
Today is August 17, 2009.
Exactly twenty-two years ago, a once crazy little wanderer was welcomed into this world.
Yes folks, it’s my birthday.
And these twenty-two thoughts are my self-reflective gifts I have for myself.
ONE: THE HOLY BIBLE
I thank the Lord for the Faith. I am nothing without Him. He is my Friend, the reason for my being. Amen.
TWO: HOUSE GATE
I miss my family back in Dipolog.
It’s a learning process still. My parents are slowly accepting that their playground lad is now a full necktie grown-up. On my part, ‘full-out independence’ is the only way to be in Makati.
All the same, the love remains unconditional. Thanks Ma, Pa, and Obet.
THREE: KINDERGARTEN CLASS
Nika, we’ve known each other since Kindergarten I. Thank you for spending the movie date with me. Cheers niks…
FOUR: DUMAGUETE BOULEVARD
I have fantastic memories with the boulevard, mostly shared with my Silliman friends. These remain to be vivid – the lonesome wind breezing over a wounded being, the serenity coupled by warm conversations chatted over white cozy benches, and the promise the unending horizon offers her visitors.
FIVE: THAT APARTMENT
I still remember a certain stranger, who will graduate soon enough. A friend told me that a vulnerable man would always return to his comfort zone no matter how painful or gut-wrenching that place was. I miss that certain stranger, whom I will always care for.
SIX: DIPOLOG AIRPORT
Dipolog is slowly becoming a grown man. Its charm shall forever engulf me. I miss the real people who made my ‘growing-up’ years worth breathing for. Strangely enough, most of these real people have considered old Dipolog a home only during approved vacation leaves.
SEVEN: ADOBO MAGAZINE
Adobo is my bible for advertising. By God’s grace, I shall experience first-hand the words shared between quotations from admen who rock the creative industry.
EIGHT: BILLBOARD
A former stranger whose greeting would mean a lot. I wish that face could speak.
NINE: OPM CDs
I will always support anything and everything Filipino – a growing collection of Original Pinoy Music CDs and books written by Filipino authors would be a testament to that. Ipagbunyi ang sariling atin.
TEN: ZORRO MASK
Karl, your number one kuya misses you the same. See you in December. Study well.
ELEVEN: RADIO
A simple request: gusto kong makapunta at makita ng personal sina Chris Tsuper at Nicole Hyala. I am a certified Tambalanista!!! Their radio show airs weekday mornings at 8:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. sa certified number one, 90.7 Love Radio.
TWELVE: AUDITING THEORY
I’m giving myself time to love auditing - knowing it’s not the calling for which I live. I have to love it, pero konting tiis na lang Nino, matutupad na rin pangarap mo.
THIRTEEN: MARYSVILLE
To Silliman University Accountancy Batch 2009, especially to my bro Dave, God bless for your upcoming board exam. Wishes extended to my batchmates Charelyn, Cyndi, and Arianne too.
FOURTEEN: CABLE
I freaking miss my couch potato days. Housemates, pa-cable naman jan.
FIFTEEN: BOOK
Could someone hand me another Tony Perez book? Nakaka-adik ang Cubao Midnight Express: Mga Pusong Nadiskaril Sa Mahabang Riles Ng Pag-ibig. Ang galing ng pagkagawa. Dalawang beses kong binasa at binili ang librong ito.
SIXTEEN: PEN AND PAPER
I hope I could have a formal writing job assignment soon enough. Would want to write a more directed subject-driven article again.
SEVENTEEN: CELLPHONE
Akala ko wala nang nakaalala. Meron pa pala. And I thank you for making the effort to text, no matter how distant we are.
EIGHTEEN: ZAMBOANGA PLAYGROUND
I want to go to Zamboanga for one reason – I have lost contact with my childhood play buddies for more than ten years. What came after the habulan, the patinteros, the basketball, is something I don’t know. And that, I wish to know.
NINETEEN: CEBU HOLIDAY
I would not be a Nino today had not my parents prayed fervently in the Basilica Minore de Santo Nino de Cebu. It has been a year since I have last visited the place. I want to pay gratitude for all the blessings that has come my way because of Him.
TWENTY: BLACKBOARD
Thank You Ma’m and Sir. To my Ateneo grade school teachers, thank you for building a strong Christian education during my formative years. To my Vincentian high school instructors, thank you for the support during that competitive flair of that tough four years (you know what I mean). To my Silliman Accountancy professors, thank you for widening our knowledge about our profession. And to Sir Casocot, your English Literature class has changed my life forever. I have read countless Filipino-written words because of you. To the professor who shares my birth date, Happy Birthday Sir.
TWENTY-ONE: PRAYER
I hope someone would pray with me someday, and that we would pray together for the rest of our lives.
TWENTY-TWO: BITHDAY CAKE
Happy Birthday Inigo. Treat yourself well. Thank You Friend Lord.
-------
Written exactly at 10:00 am. I am officially twenty-two.
Exactly twenty-two years ago, a once crazy little wanderer was welcomed into this world.
Yes folks, it’s my birthday.
And these twenty-two thoughts are my self-reflective gifts I have for myself.
ONE: THE HOLY BIBLE
I thank the Lord for the Faith. I am nothing without Him. He is my Friend, the reason for my being. Amen.
TWO: HOUSE GATE
I miss my family back in Dipolog.
It’s a learning process still. My parents are slowly accepting that their playground lad is now a full necktie grown-up. On my part, ‘full-out independence’ is the only way to be in Makati.
All the same, the love remains unconditional. Thanks Ma, Pa, and Obet.
THREE: KINDERGARTEN CLASS
Nika, we’ve known each other since Kindergarten I. Thank you for spending the movie date with me. Cheers niks…
FOUR: DUMAGUETE BOULEVARD
I have fantastic memories with the boulevard, mostly shared with my Silliman friends. These remain to be vivid – the lonesome wind breezing over a wounded being, the serenity coupled by warm conversations chatted over white cozy benches, and the promise the unending horizon offers her visitors.
FIVE: THAT APARTMENT
I still remember a certain stranger, who will graduate soon enough. A friend told me that a vulnerable man would always return to his comfort zone no matter how painful or gut-wrenching that place was. I miss that certain stranger, whom I will always care for.
SIX: DIPOLOG AIRPORT
Dipolog is slowly becoming a grown man. Its charm shall forever engulf me. I miss the real people who made my ‘growing-up’ years worth breathing for. Strangely enough, most of these real people have considered old Dipolog a home only during approved vacation leaves.
SEVEN: ADOBO MAGAZINE
Adobo is my bible for advertising. By God’s grace, I shall experience first-hand the words shared between quotations from admen who rock the creative industry.
EIGHT: BILLBOARD
A former stranger whose greeting would mean a lot. I wish that face could speak.
NINE: OPM CDs
I will always support anything and everything Filipino – a growing collection of Original Pinoy Music CDs and books written by Filipino authors would be a testament to that. Ipagbunyi ang sariling atin.
TEN: ZORRO MASK
Karl, your number one kuya misses you the same. See you in December. Study well.
ELEVEN: RADIO
A simple request: gusto kong makapunta at makita ng personal sina Chris Tsuper at Nicole Hyala. I am a certified Tambalanista!!! Their radio show airs weekday mornings at 8:00 a.m. and 9:00 a.m. sa certified number one, 90.7 Love Radio.
TWELVE: AUDITING THEORY
I’m giving myself time to love auditing - knowing it’s not the calling for which I live. I have to love it, pero konting tiis na lang Nino, matutupad na rin pangarap mo.
THIRTEEN: MARYSVILLE
To Silliman University Accountancy Batch 2009, especially to my bro Dave, God bless for your upcoming board exam. Wishes extended to my batchmates Charelyn, Cyndi, and Arianne too.
FOURTEEN: CABLE
I freaking miss my couch potato days. Housemates, pa-cable naman jan.
FIFTEEN: BOOK
Could someone hand me another Tony Perez book? Nakaka-adik ang Cubao Midnight Express: Mga Pusong Nadiskaril Sa Mahabang Riles Ng Pag-ibig. Ang galing ng pagkagawa. Dalawang beses kong binasa at binili ang librong ito.
SIXTEEN: PEN AND PAPER
I hope I could have a formal writing job assignment soon enough. Would want to write a more directed subject-driven article again.
SEVENTEEN: CELLPHONE
Akala ko wala nang nakaalala. Meron pa pala. And I thank you for making the effort to text, no matter how distant we are.
EIGHTEEN: ZAMBOANGA PLAYGROUND
I want to go to Zamboanga for one reason – I have lost contact with my childhood play buddies for more than ten years. What came after the habulan, the patinteros, the basketball, is something I don’t know. And that, I wish to know.
NINETEEN: CEBU HOLIDAY
I would not be a Nino today had not my parents prayed fervently in the Basilica Minore de Santo Nino de Cebu. It has been a year since I have last visited the place. I want to pay gratitude for all the blessings that has come my way because of Him.
TWENTY: BLACKBOARD
Thank You Ma’m and Sir. To my Ateneo grade school teachers, thank you for building a strong Christian education during my formative years. To my Vincentian high school instructors, thank you for the support during that competitive flair of that tough four years (you know what I mean). To my Silliman Accountancy professors, thank you for widening our knowledge about our profession. And to Sir Casocot, your English Literature class has changed my life forever. I have read countless Filipino-written words because of you. To the professor who shares my birth date, Happy Birthday Sir.
TWENTY-ONE: PRAYER
I hope someone would pray with me someday, and that we would pray together for the rest of our lives.
TWENTY-TWO: BITHDAY CAKE
Happy Birthday Inigo. Treat yourself well. Thank You Friend Lord.
-------
Written exactly at 10:00 am. I am officially twenty-two.
TWENTY-TWO MATERIALISTIC MONEY-DRIVEN GIFTS
Twenty-two materialistic money-driven gifts I would have wanted to have for myself during my birthday.
Don’t get me wrong here. My parents are good providers and they have raised me well enough for me to realize that money does not (and will never) make the world go round.
But hey, with the monthly salary that feeds my ATM card just enough, dreaming of twenty-two gifts I want for myself is and the only next best thing.
ISA: An all-expenses paid adventure to every Survivor season location -from the first destination in Palau Tiga to upcoming islands of Samoa.
DALAWA: Well-structured brown and black office jackets. I’m very specific with what I want - the very reason why I haven’t bought any until now.
TATLO: A solid blue, white-striped Volkswagen or Mini-Cooper. Interestingly enough, the former is my father’s dream car before.
APAT: Next to a Volkswagen, a STAREX van will be the next drive. Astig.
LIMA: Another trip, this time to my hermosa, Ciudad De Zamboanga – to reconnect with long lost childhood friends back in RCDAO Subdivision.
ANIM: Next destination. My birth place – Cebu City! I haven’t been to the place since May of 2008.
PITO: How about a family vacation to the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’? Disneyland, Hong Kong, and the childhood fantasies in between.
WALO: A collection of Tony Perez and other Filipino-authored works. Branded Pinoy, Original.
SIYAM: Let’s talk Pinoy and let’s talk Sessionistas. I missed their concert though. An exclusive hang-out session with the artists (with selected friends and relatives as their audiences) will be rock-out cool!
SAMPU: And the clock strikes ten. A Fossil watch has always been a want. My overused rubber watch feels the same.
LABING-ISA: The commercial speaks of a TV Cable provider allowing the audience to view ‘the channels of their choice.’ A brand-new 21-inch television set with ‘the channels of my choice’ will satisfy my couch potato cravings.
LABING DALAWA: A personal laptop with all-around internet access. This will spare me with no excuses in writing and updating new posts regularly.
LABING TATLO: A brand new pair of Nike or Chuck Taylor sneakers.
LABING-APAT: A house and lot – for a Habitat for Humanities beneficiary. I have not done any Habitat outreach program since I left college. Being an active member now as a professional would be a fulfilling thing to continue.
LABING LIMA: A multi-functional baking oven for mama. She loves cooking and cooking loves her the same.
LABING-ANIM: A stress-free spa and massage treatment for papa. Just a day, pa. Just a day.
LABING PITO: For my brother, a portable PSP – a timely gift for his upcoming graduation.
LABING WALO: A sudden thought rushes in. A library of our favorite 90’s music will become a memory lane of nostalgia and great childhood lessons.
LABING SIYAM: I always had this guilty thought of buying a Power Ranger toy figure every time a new season comes out. A museum of rangers and megazords will be as great as exclaiming, ‘it’s morphin’ time.’
TWENTY: Writing-wise, a scriptwriting workshop with Ricky Lee and other scribe masters. Self-written words of clichés and ordinary lines may just fit a two-hour well-received film.
TWENTY-ONE: A romantic date with that stranger, Bea Alonzo, or both. Naks.
TWENTY-TWO: My most-priced gift: a new baccalaureate degree. Soon, by God’s grace.
And the next better thing to the next best thing?
Them receivables becoming actual gifts.
Yes, pun intended.
Don’t get me wrong here. My parents are good providers and they have raised me well enough for me to realize that money does not (and will never) make the world go round.
But hey, with the monthly salary that feeds my ATM card just enough, dreaming of twenty-two gifts I want for myself is and the only next best thing.
ISA: An all-expenses paid adventure to every Survivor season location -from the first destination in Palau Tiga to upcoming islands of Samoa.
DALAWA: Well-structured brown and black office jackets. I’m very specific with what I want - the very reason why I haven’t bought any until now.
TATLO: A solid blue, white-striped Volkswagen or Mini-Cooper. Interestingly enough, the former is my father’s dream car before.
APAT: Next to a Volkswagen, a STAREX van will be the next drive. Astig.
LIMA: Another trip, this time to my hermosa, Ciudad De Zamboanga – to reconnect with long lost childhood friends back in RCDAO Subdivision.
ANIM: Next destination. My birth place – Cebu City! I haven’t been to the place since May of 2008.
PITO: How about a family vacation to the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’? Disneyland, Hong Kong, and the childhood fantasies in between.
WALO: A collection of Tony Perez and other Filipino-authored works. Branded Pinoy, Original.
SIYAM: Let’s talk Pinoy and let’s talk Sessionistas. I missed their concert though. An exclusive hang-out session with the artists (with selected friends and relatives as their audiences) will be rock-out cool!
SAMPU: And the clock strikes ten. A Fossil watch has always been a want. My overused rubber watch feels the same.
LABING-ISA: The commercial speaks of a TV Cable provider allowing the audience to view ‘the channels of their choice.’ A brand-new 21-inch television set with ‘the channels of my choice’ will satisfy my couch potato cravings.
LABING DALAWA: A personal laptop with all-around internet access. This will spare me with no excuses in writing and updating new posts regularly.
LABING TATLO: A brand new pair of Nike or Chuck Taylor sneakers.
LABING-APAT: A house and lot – for a Habitat for Humanities beneficiary. I have not done any Habitat outreach program since I left college. Being an active member now as a professional would be a fulfilling thing to continue.
LABING LIMA: A multi-functional baking oven for mama. She loves cooking and cooking loves her the same.
LABING-ANIM: A stress-free spa and massage treatment for papa. Just a day, pa. Just a day.
LABING PITO: For my brother, a portable PSP – a timely gift for his upcoming graduation.
LABING WALO: A sudden thought rushes in. A library of our favorite 90’s music will become a memory lane of nostalgia and great childhood lessons.
LABING SIYAM: I always had this guilty thought of buying a Power Ranger toy figure every time a new season comes out. A museum of rangers and megazords will be as great as exclaiming, ‘it’s morphin’ time.’
TWENTY: Writing-wise, a scriptwriting workshop with Ricky Lee and other scribe masters. Self-written words of clichés and ordinary lines may just fit a two-hour well-received film.
TWENTY-ONE: A romantic date with that stranger, Bea Alonzo, or both. Naks.
TWENTY-TWO: My most-priced gift: a new baccalaureate degree. Soon, by God’s grace.
And the next better thing to the next best thing?
Them receivables becoming actual gifts.
Yes, pun intended.
Friday, August 21, 2009
PALAWAN: THE PALAWAN EXPERIENCE
July 17-20, 2009
Enjoy.
The following posts present a journal of the three-day Palawan adjective. Our cluster is utmost humbled by the experiences of the cumulative three-day vacation leave.
PALAWAN: THE FRIDAY BONANZA
- documents the cluster's memorable arrival at the Puerto Prinsesa Airport to our eventual visit to Palawan's secret wonders.
- documents the cluster's memorable arrival at the Puerto Prinsesa Airport to our eventual visit to Palawan's secret wonders.
PALAWAN: THE SATURDAY SERENADE
- the splash, the waves, the snorkles. All these and more written in the sands of Hunda Bay.
PALAWAN: THE SUNDAY ESCAPADE
- a first-hand visit to the World Heritage Park of the Sabang Subterrenean National Park becomes the exclamation point of our final day in Palawan.
PALAWAN: THE MONDAY ADJECTIVE
- we have experienced the adjective. So should you. The post is a summary, in words and in snapshots, of the wonderful Palawan adventure.
- we have experienced the adjective. So should you. The post is a summary, in words and in snapshots, of the wonderful Palawan adventure.
My hands had been as adventurous the whole trip. They produced three Palawan-born posts.
PALAWAN: FUNDADOR
- a drunken poem written while the author was mid-way sober and half-way asleep.
- a drunken poem written while the author was mid-way sober and half-way asleep.
PALAWAN: HINGA MALALIM
- the simple talk that eventually lead to a deeper silent breath.
PALAWAN: BARAS
- written literally in the sands of the Sabang Beach, this poem has been translated by our tour guide to Cuyuno, Puerto Prinsesa's local dialect.
Enjoy.
PALAWAN: THE FRIDAY BONANZA
Friday, July 17
10:30 a.m.
“PALAWAN!”
That was the first word my officemates exclaimed upon our plane’s arrival at the Puerto Princesa Airport, July 17 Friday at approximately thirty minutes past ten - amidst the jubilant welcome of the “military band” that greeted every tourist as if we were Very Important Palaweños (VIPs).
2:30 p.m.
To Puerto Princesa City we tour.
With our guide Edna B. De Los Angeles at hand, the tour around the main pueblo of Puerto Princesa began with some important facts about one of the cleanest city in the Philippines.
“…The largest Philippine city in terms of total land area, Puerto Princesa was named after a Spanish princess born in 1864. The place was initially known as Puerto de la Princesa, but was later change to its present name after the princess’ untimely death. The town’s bay area became center for Spanish naval operations during the conquestadors’ occupation.
The town was formally inaugurated provincial capital of Palawan during the American regime; then a Philippine city by 1970. Puerto Princesa and the rest of Palawan belong to the MIMAROPA region.”
Intrigued by these facts and more Palawan gossips shared inside the van, we ogled over what lies behind this Puerto Princesa vibe.
The city is a spectacle of progress, evident in small-to-medium-scale business establishment surrounding the pueblo. Of course, Jollibee was a sure sign of the development in this quaint town populated by the warm and amiable personalities of pure-blooded Palaweños.
Puerto Princesa is much like my old place back home. It imbibed the aroma of my Dipolog – quiet yet ambitious, serene but adventurous, cozy although expanding. This made me easy to embrace the beauty of the Princesa and the many pearls she has unraveled throughout the years.
Two of these magnificent pearls were the Immaculate Conception Church and the Plaza Cuartel – two adjacent reminders; one of faith, the other a testimony of it.
Freedom within walls, instead outside of, has been exemplified in our next stop, the Iwahig Penal Colony.
A sneak peak for day two’s itinerary, the Hunda Bay, can be seen from the retreat house.
A quick stop at the Baker’s Hill stamped the final wonder for day one.
Baker’s Hill has became a local tourist spot not only for their local pastries and delicacies (their Halo-Halo sold at Php 60.00 is a guaranteed must-try) but also for their unique decorations, mostly figures from our favorite cartoons, ornamenting the place. An officemate even confirmed the reasonableness of one piece. He was more than satisfied.
10:30 a.m.
“PALAWAN!”
That was the first word my officemates exclaimed upon our plane’s arrival at the Puerto Princesa Airport, July 17 Friday at approximately thirty minutes past ten - amidst the jubilant welcome of the “military band” that greeted every tourist as if we were Very Important Palaweños (VIPs).
With the unexpected first-hand hospitality, I expected much after the warm airport reception.
I was not mistaken. Our Travel Agency, 3B’s Tours and Travel, made our JHE Cluster embrace the warm-er VIP reception via their custom-made streamer, shell-adorned necklaces, and of course, that au natural Palaweño charm.
Talk about an all-out VIP experience in just the first thirty minutes of your trip.
I was not mistaken. Our Travel Agency, 3B’s Tours and Travel, made our JHE Cluster embrace the warm-er VIP reception via their custom-made streamer, shell-adorned necklaces, and of course, that au natural Palaweño charm.
Talk about an all-out VIP experience in just the first thirty minutes of your trip.
And so, our three-day VIP adventure began with…
12:30 p.m.
…hungry stomachs eager for some native cooking. Seafood and native restaurant Bilao at Palayok concocted the perfect ingredients for this craving.
Bilao at Palayok’s ambiance was exceptional, the mood relaxed with soothing jazz music fitted for a quiet conversation or two. True to its name, the restaurant boasts of a native atmosphere - a brief refresher to the quiet and laidback Palaweño lifestyle. My favorite part would definitely be the tribal statues and images strategically located in different parts of the resto. My fascination for Survivor still follows me wherever I am.
Food-wise though, the lunch was just great, not superb nor a must-try. Dishes served were as enticing as how they were presented, but the meal was, in Tagalog, “bitin.”
Either the serving in the bilao was just too economical or our stomachs wanted an upsurge from its recession.
Or Both.
I give Bilao at Palayok seven out of ten spoons.
12:30 p.m.
…hungry stomachs eager for some native cooking. Seafood and native restaurant Bilao at Palayok concocted the perfect ingredients for this craving.
Bilao at Palayok’s ambiance was exceptional, the mood relaxed with soothing jazz music fitted for a quiet conversation or two. True to its name, the restaurant boasts of a native atmosphere - a brief refresher to the quiet and laidback Palaweño lifestyle. My favorite part would definitely be the tribal statues and images strategically located in different parts of the resto. My fascination for Survivor still follows me wherever I am.
Food-wise though, the lunch was just great, not superb nor a must-try. Dishes served were as enticing as how they were presented, but the meal was, in Tagalog, “bitin.”
Either the serving in the bilao was just too economical or our stomachs wanted an upsurge from its recession.
Or Both.
I give Bilao at Palayok seven out of ten spoons.
2:30 p.m.To Puerto Princesa City we tour.
With our guide Edna B. De Los Angeles at hand, the tour around the main pueblo of Puerto Princesa began with some important facts about one of the cleanest city in the Philippines.
“…The largest Philippine city in terms of total land area, Puerto Princesa was named after a Spanish princess born in 1864. The place was initially known as Puerto de la Princesa, but was later change to its present name after the princess’ untimely death. The town’s bay area became center for Spanish naval operations during the conquestadors’ occupation.
The town was formally inaugurated provincial capital of Palawan during the American regime; then a Philippine city by 1970. Puerto Princesa and the rest of Palawan belong to the MIMAROPA region.”
Intrigued by these facts and more Palawan gossips shared inside the van, we ogled over what lies behind this Puerto Princesa vibe.
The city is a spectacle of progress, evident in small-to-medium-scale business establishment surrounding the pueblo. Of course, Jollibee was a sure sign of the development in this quaint town populated by the warm and amiable personalities of pure-blooded Palaweños.
Puerto Princesa is much like my old place back home. It imbibed the aroma of my Dipolog – quiet yet ambitious, serene but adventurous, cozy although expanding. This made me easy to embrace the beauty of the Princesa and the many pearls she has unraveled throughout the years.
Two of these magnificent pearls were the Immaculate Conception Church and the Plaza Cuartel – two adjacent reminders; one of faith, the other a testimony of it.
Situated a few yards from the Immaculate Concepcion Cathedral, Plaza Cuartel is a grimful reminder of the Palawan Massacre of 1944. The note on the marker reads, “Sa pook na ito na dating taggulang militar noong ikalawang digmaang pandaigdig naganap ang pagsunog ng mga sundalong Hapon sa humigit kumulang 150 Amerikanong bihag ng digma noong 14 Disyembre 1944.”
Of the enlisted prisoners-of-wars, only eleven men survived the massacre – most of them swam across the bay and were rescued by Iwahig Penal Colony inmates. Survivor Eugene Nielsen of the 59th Coast Artillery recounted that ‘the [Japanese] would laugh and shoot or bayonet the [prisoners-of-wars] in the stomach.’ Marine Sergeant Douglas Bouge revealed ‘the Japanese resorted to dynamites in forcing men out of the rocks where they hid.’ Meanwhile, Marine Glen McDole survived the massacre and an ‘apendectomy without anesthesia’ while hiding in the camp garbage dump with two other prisoners. (More stories from survivors on the link provided in Palawan: The Monday Adjective.)
After the short detour to history lane, we were lead to another local wonder – a vibrant masterpiece of the unique Palaweño craftsmanship
.
Binuatan Creations became the venue for a much-demanded pasalubong spree. The products offered were mostly ‘made of local fibers and grasses endemic in Puerto Princesa City beautifully [crafted] by women, out-of-school-youths, and working students.’ Some officemates even got a first-hand experience in weaving indigenous fiber-made mats, which sells for Php 20.00 to Php 30.00 per yard. The souvenir shop beamed with its native products – from colorful bags to practical table runners and accessories; to personalized notepads and even attractive wall decors.
I bought only few items though - three notepads, a bookmark, and one table runner were a good enough buy. Something told me to be rather stingy on that spree, knowing the next days may lead to better and cheaper deals. (As day three revealed, I was right all along.)
Of the enlisted prisoners-of-wars, only eleven men survived the massacre – most of them swam across the bay and were rescued by Iwahig Penal Colony inmates. Survivor Eugene Nielsen of the 59th Coast Artillery recounted that ‘the [Japanese] would laugh and shoot or bayonet the [prisoners-of-wars] in the stomach.’ Marine Sergeant Douglas Bouge revealed ‘the Japanese resorted to dynamites in forcing men out of the rocks where they hid.’ Meanwhile, Marine Glen McDole survived the massacre and an ‘apendectomy without anesthesia’ while hiding in the camp garbage dump with two other prisoners. (More stories from survivors on the link provided in Palawan: The Monday Adjective.)
After the short detour to history lane, we were lead to another local wonder – a vibrant masterpiece of the unique Palaweño craftsmanship
.
Binuatan Creations became the venue for a much-demanded pasalubong spree. The products offered were mostly ‘made of local fibers and grasses endemic in Puerto Princesa City beautifully [crafted] by women, out-of-school-youths, and working students.’ Some officemates even got a first-hand experience in weaving indigenous fiber-made mats, which sells for Php 20.00 to Php 30.00 per yard. The souvenir shop beamed with its native products – from colorful bags to practical table runners and accessories; to personalized notepads and even attractive wall decors.
I bought only few items though - three notepads, a bookmark, and one table runner were a good enough buy. Something told me to be rather stingy on that spree, knowing the next days may lead to better and cheaper deals. (As day three revealed, I was right all along.)
From a historical insight to Palaweño ingenuity, Puerto Princesa next showcased her natural wonder via the Palawan Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center.
Founded in 1987 with support from the Japan International Cooperative Agency, the Crocodile Farming Institute was established with the aim ‘to conserve [two] endangered species of crocodiles, C. porosus and C. mindorensis,’ and ‘to introduce and develop suitable farming technology to uplift the socio-economic well being of the [country].’
Renamed Palawan Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center, the institute is a sanctuary to wildlife species and a free retreat for stressed Makati associates with Mother Nature.
Among the activities in the Center included a visit to the Hatching House for newly-born crocodiles, the stimulating stroll to witness the motionless nocturnal adult reptilians take their lazy afternoon naps, and the immediate insight to the Nature Park, a clandestine haven for wildlife animals – from the graceful ostrich and the noble eagle, to the loquacious myna bird and the timid bearcat.
Founded in 1987 with support from the Japan International Cooperative Agency, the Crocodile Farming Institute was established with the aim ‘to conserve [two] endangered species of crocodiles, C. porosus and C. mindorensis,’ and ‘to introduce and develop suitable farming technology to uplift the socio-economic well being of the [country].’
Renamed Palawan Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center, the institute is a sanctuary to wildlife species and a free retreat for stressed Makati associates with Mother Nature.
Among the activities in the Center included a visit to the Hatching House for newly-born crocodiles, the stimulating stroll to witness the motionless nocturnal adult reptilians take their lazy afternoon naps, and the immediate insight to the Nature Park, a clandestine haven for wildlife animals – from the graceful ostrich and the noble eagle, to the loquacious myna bird and the timid bearcat.
But the main highlight was the photo-ops with the kid crocs, tagged reasonably at Php 30.00. I did not dare hold those crocodiles though, even if that stranger ordered me to. Their skin would just remind me of snakes, and (argh) I fear snakes.
The visit to the Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center revealed the vulnerable side of being a ‘buwaya’, contrary to its usual connotation with greed and selfishness. In that, the buwaya and the rest of wildlife deserve our utmost respect.
The visit to the Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center revealed the vulnerable side of being a ‘buwaya’, contrary to its usual connotation with greed and selfishness. In that, the buwaya and the rest of wildlife deserve our utmost respect.
Freedom within walls, instead outside of, has been exemplified in our next stop, the Iwahig Penal Colony. Dubbed ‘the world’s largest prison without bars’, the Iwahig Penal Colony was established in Palawan in 1904 to serve ‘as a depository for prisoners who could no longer be accommodated at the Bilibid Prison in Manila.’ The tour guide narrated that the inmates today are subdivided into three major groups: minimum (identified with brown shirts), middle (blue), and maximum (orange) security inmates.
The inmates are given livelihood programs during their term. These include farming, fishing, forestry, carpentry, and hospital paramedical work, to name a few. These projects would probably explain why most inmates choose to live within the communities near the Colony once they are emancipated.
“Mas mabuti na dito sa Iwahig kasi may ikinabubuhay sila; mahirap maghanap ng hanapbuhay sa labas kaya dito na rin sila namamalagi kung nakalaya na,” explained our tour guide.
The inmates are given livelihood programs during their term. These include farming, fishing, forestry, carpentry, and hospital paramedical work, to name a few. These projects would probably explain why most inmates choose to live within the communities near the Colony once they are emancipated.
“Mas mabuti na dito sa Iwahig kasi may ikinabubuhay sila; mahirap maghanap ng hanapbuhay sa labas kaya dito na rin sila namamalagi kung nakalaya na,” explained our tour guide.
As a gesture of respect towards the inmates, no pictures were taken within the facility. Products handcrafted by the inmates were purchased instead.
From the Penal Colony, we proceeded to our next destination that redefined ‘picturesque viewpoint.’
The retreat house of former House Speaker Ramon V. Mitra, Jr. displayed the untouched scenery of Palawan and painted lush greens perfect for cattle grazing. The house is reflective of the former House Speaker’s long-time involvement with cattle, particularly his post as a Chairman of the Farm Management Enterprises Corporation which operated farm cattle ranches.
From the Penal Colony, we proceeded to our next destination that redefined ‘picturesque viewpoint.’
The retreat house of former House Speaker Ramon V. Mitra, Jr. displayed the untouched scenery of Palawan and painted lush greens perfect for cattle grazing. The house is reflective of the former House Speaker’s long-time involvement with cattle, particularly his post as a Chairman of the Farm Management Enterprises Corporation which operated farm cattle ranches.
Mitra was elected Palawan congressman for two terms, 1965 until 1973, but resigned during midterm. He became senator in 1971, and after the EDSA revolution in 1986, was appointed Agriculture Secretary. He later became Speaker of the House of Representatives in 1987.
A sneak peak for day two’s itinerary, the Hunda Bay, can be seen from the retreat house.A quick stop at the Baker’s Hill stamped the final wonder for day one.
Baker’s Hill has became a local tourist spot not only for their local pastries and delicacies (their Halo-Halo sold at Php 60.00 is a guaranteed must-try) but also for their unique decorations, mostly figures from our favorite cartoons, ornamenting the place. An officemate even confirmed the reasonableness of one piece. He was more than satisfied.
Much has happened during the first day of our Palawan adventure. Needless to say, the first day was only a primer to the incredible escapade of days two and three.
Writing-wise, my hands gave birth to Fundador, the love child of that stranger and the hypnotic breath of alcoholic liquid. See Palawan: Fundador for this post.
Off to day two. Or should I say, tayo na’t magbabad sa mainit na alon ng ikalawang sikat ng araw.
Writing-wise, my hands gave birth to Fundador, the love child of that stranger and the hypnotic breath of alcoholic liquid. See Palawan: Fundador for this post.
Off to day two. Or should I say, tayo na’t magbabad sa mainit na alon ng ikalawang sikat ng araw.
PALAWAN: THE SATURDAY SERENADE
Saturday, July 18
8:00 am
The second day of our stressed-free vacation leave could be summed in two words: HUNDA BAY.
Personally, it was ‘salamat sa ganda ng Palawan.’ The bay’s undeniable charm became the inspiration for Hinga Malalim and the backdrop for most of the pictures seen in Baras. See Palawan: Hinga Malalim and Palawan: Baras for the actual posts.
8:00 am
The second day of our stressed-free vacation leave could be summed in two words: HUNDA BAY.
Hunda Bay is situated in Sta. Lourdes, Tagbanua around 12 kilometers east of Puerto Princesa City. Recognized as ‘the Last Frontier’, the Bay reflects the magnificent canvass of white sand beaches, pristine snorkeling and diving spots, and a rich and well-preserved coral reef system.
These God-given gifts have been generously distributed to the bay’s group of islets which adventurous nature lovers could visit through island hopping via hired pump boats abundant in the bay’s wharf.
These God-given gifts have been generously distributed to the bay’s group of islets which adventurous nature lovers could visit through island hopping via hired pump boats abundant in the bay’s wharf.
Among these islands include the Cowrie and Bat, named after large fruit bats ‘coming out of holes at sundown for the evening fee.’ Equally worth visiting is the Snake Island with its curvaceous strip shaped like a wandering snake. The island is host to the Pambato Reef, our cluster’s snorkeling playground for the entire day. Other famous islands include the Canon, Lu-li Island (an acronym for ‘lulubog-lilitaw’, the island is apparently visible only during low tide), Senorita Island (a breeding site for the Lapu-Lapu), Meara Marina, Pandan Island and Starfish Island.
Officemates named the Hunda experience, ‘astig’, ‘sulit’, and ‘sarap ulit-ulitin’. And it truly was.
There were many stories created amidst the basking heat of the Palawan sun. We had our cluster fun games that eventually turned into a contested riot of equality and fairness, in all material respects. (My team won second, by the way.) Fellow snorkel-geared new hires became immediate marine enthusiasts, equally conversing with the aquatic life forms and creating a much-thought appreciation to Nemo’s heritage. Some became novices at boat rowing; while others revived the college flame via a heated volleyball game.
Personally, it was ‘salamat sa ganda ng Palawan.’ The bay’s undeniable charm became the inspiration for Hinga Malalim and the backdrop for most of the pictures seen in Baras. See Palawan: Hinga Malalim and Palawan: Baras for the actual posts.PALAWAN: THE SUNDAY ESCAPADE
Sunday, July 19
7:00 a.m.
And the finale should be grand.
Day three’s itinerary comprised unraveling the marvel of Sabang, Puerto Princesa – the Subterranean River National Park, the Mangrove Paddleboat Tour, and the unexpected plunge into the Sabang Beach.
The 81-kilometer travel to Barangay Sabang from the city proper took two hours to complete.
Between our rambunctious chorus for Eraserheads’ Huling El Bimbo and the intense revelation of Lucas in Ricky Lee’s ‘Para Kay B’ were the magnificent stretch of quiet mountains and untouched virgin forests gently cascading the long drive to Sabang. An unexpected detour to the Buenavista Viewpoint, a project of the celebrated Mayor Edward S. Hagedorn, became a breather for that refreshing view and a revival for another pasalubong spree.
And after being in an almost stationary arrangement in the crowded van, we have finally arrived at the Puerto Princesa Subterranean National Park. A marker declares the location as ‘A World Heritage Park’.
We first navigated towards the Underground River via a twenty-minute pumpboat ride. The scene in the pumpboat ride was coated with the unending horizon of blue crystal waters, crashed only with angry moving waves and gigantic rock creations that commanded our respect. 
The arrival at the Underground River was like the cinematographic start-off from my favorite reality show – castaways dropped at an unfamiliar island to survive a game against nature and against each other. A smooth Jungle Trail was the Heritage’s brown carpet preview for tourists before arriving at the underground river.
Navigated by means of a paddle boat, the Palawan Underground River features 8.2 kilometers of God’s perfect creations. The river flows ‘within a deep cavern under rugged limestone and marble cliffs,’ with visitors greeted by the welcoming committee of the underground bats. The secrets of the stalactite and stalagmite pillars, the mysteries of the famed Cathedral Chambers and the enigma of the geological formations were all revealed by the magic of the trusty flashlight and the words by our paddle boat master.
To unravel the truth of these formations, one must definitely test his imagination.
Formations like the Holy Family, the ethereal Guardian Angel, a grotto for Saint Roque, and a snapshot of the Three Kings adorned the Cathedral Chambers. A trip to the fresh market, este the Fruits and Vegetable Section, offered the vegan tourist a gargantuan feast of Carrots, Cabbage, Pepper, and the Male Mushroom. Other well-remembered images included the silhouette of the perfectly-curved woman (yeah, man!), the neighing of the horse’s head, and the enchanted twist of the mythical dragon. It was near impossible to take a perfect snapshot of these formations though. A split-second click would spell the difference between a photo-worthy image and an ordinary rock formation
The Underground River Tour was a blast. And that explosion was followed by another entertaining aftermath.
The Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour was a direct access to the ideal ecosystem – a tranquil hideaway for the diverse wildlife, converging in that safe place undisturbed by human development. The endearment with conserving the mangroves was further enriched with FYIs narrated by our nature guides, Lady Mangrove and Manong Untoy. One could just grasp the guide’s love for these mangroves, even offering the Mangrove Song to the tune of Paru-Parung Bukid at the end of the tour.
But the right of passage for the Paddle Boat Tour was Palawan’s version of Fear Factor: the Tamilok Experience.
Tamilok, scientifically known as Bachtrophorus thoracites, is ‘bivalve mollusk of the teredinidae family.’ These woodworms thrive in trunks of wood scattered within the mangrove ecosystem. After the insides have been removed and cleaned, the Tamilok is dipped into vinegar seasoned with ample amount of spices. Rich in protein, calcium, and iodine, the local Sabang delicacy is believed to be an aphrodisiac. Mmmm….a better version of kinilaw.
The mangrove planting ceremoniously marked the end of our Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour.
Maraming Salamat Lady Mangrove and Manong Untoy. May your advocacy towards preserving the mangrove ecosystem paddle to deeper and wider seas. You have made the tour worth reminiscing. Sa Sabang may tamilok, uy. Uy, uy, uy….
The group eventually left the Puerto Princesa Subterranean National Park at around four in the afternoon.
It was part three of our pasalubong spree upon our arrival at the city proper. And yes, we have arrived at the best and cheapest deals at the Tiangge. Palawan shirts at Php 80.00, key chains at three pieces for Php 50.00, colorful bracelets at Php 100.00 per dozen. Plus you can haggle if you can use your old Makati charm.
Sadly, (ahh) the Palawan souvenirs have to be with our bags on our return flight the following morning.
7:00 a.m.
And the finale should be grand.
Day three’s itinerary comprised unraveling the marvel of Sabang, Puerto Princesa – the Subterranean River National Park, the Mangrove Paddleboat Tour, and the unexpected plunge into the Sabang Beach.
The 81-kilometer travel to Barangay Sabang from the city proper took two hours to complete.
Between our rambunctious chorus for Eraserheads’ Huling El Bimbo and the intense revelation of Lucas in Ricky Lee’s ‘Para Kay B’ were the magnificent stretch of quiet mountains and untouched virgin forests gently cascading the long drive to Sabang. An unexpected detour to the Buenavista Viewpoint, a project of the celebrated Mayor Edward S. Hagedorn, became a breather for that refreshing view and a revival for another pasalubong spree.
And after being in an almost stationary arrangement in the crowded van, we have finally arrived at the Puerto Princesa Subterranean National Park. A marker declares the location as ‘A World Heritage Park’.
We first navigated towards the Underground River via a twenty-minute pumpboat ride. The scene in the pumpboat ride was coated with the unending horizon of blue crystal waters, crashed only with angry moving waves and gigantic rock creations that commanded our respect. 
The arrival at the Underground River was like the cinematographic start-off from my favorite reality show – castaways dropped at an unfamiliar island to survive a game against nature and against each other. A smooth Jungle Trail was the Heritage’s brown carpet preview for tourists before arriving at the underground river.After the pumpboat ride and an Amazing Race hike, we were welcomed by the imposing structure that is the Palawan Underground River.
Navigated by means of a paddle boat, the Palawan Underground River features 8.2 kilometers of God’s perfect creations. The river flows ‘within a deep cavern under rugged limestone and marble cliffs,’ with visitors greeted by the welcoming committee of the underground bats. The secrets of the stalactite and stalagmite pillars, the mysteries of the famed Cathedral Chambers and the enigma of the geological formations were all revealed by the magic of the trusty flashlight and the words by our paddle boat master.To unravel the truth of these formations, one must definitely test his imagination.
Formations like the Holy Family, the ethereal Guardian Angel, a grotto for Saint Roque, and a snapshot of the Three Kings adorned the Cathedral Chambers. A trip to the fresh market, este the Fruits and Vegetable Section, offered the vegan tourist a gargantuan feast of Carrots, Cabbage, Pepper, and the Male Mushroom. Other well-remembered images included the silhouette of the perfectly-curved woman (yeah, man!), the neighing of the horse’s head, and the enchanted twist of the mythical dragon. It was near impossible to take a perfect snapshot of these formations though. A split-second click would spell the difference between a photo-worthy image and an ordinary rock formation
The Underground River Tour was a blast. And that explosion was followed by another entertaining aftermath.The Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour was a direct access to the ideal ecosystem – a tranquil hideaway for the diverse wildlife, converging in that safe place undisturbed by human development. The endearment with conserving the mangroves was further enriched with FYIs narrated by our nature guides, Lady Mangrove and Manong Untoy. One could just grasp the guide’s love for these mangroves, even offering the Mangrove Song to the tune of Paru-Parung Bukid at the end of the tour.
But the right of passage for the Paddle Boat Tour was Palawan’s version of Fear Factor: the Tamilok Experience.Tamilok, scientifically known as Bachtrophorus thoracites, is ‘bivalve mollusk of the teredinidae family.’ These woodworms thrive in trunks of wood scattered within the mangrove ecosystem. After the insides have been removed and cleaned, the Tamilok is dipped into vinegar seasoned with ample amount of spices. Rich in protein, calcium, and iodine, the local Sabang delicacy is believed to be an aphrodisiac. Mmmm….a better version of kinilaw.
The mangrove planting ceremoniously marked the end of our Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour.
Maraming Salamat Lady Mangrove and Manong Untoy. May your advocacy towards preserving the mangrove ecosystem paddle to deeper and wider seas. You have made the tour worth reminiscing. Sa Sabang may tamilok, uy. Uy, uy, uy….
An unexpected splash with the big, inviting waves of Sabang Beach followed the Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour.
It was an easy temptation for my officemates – not for me though. The sand and the majestic wind whispered lyrical words that eventually became Buhangin or Baras in Kuyunin. It was the best compromise for fighting the temptation, I thought. Refer to Palawan: Baras for this post.
It was an easy temptation for my officemates – not for me though. The sand and the majestic wind whispered lyrical words that eventually became Buhangin or Baras in Kuyunin. It was the best compromise for fighting the temptation, I thought. Refer to Palawan: Baras for this post.
The group eventually left the Puerto Princesa Subterranean National Park at around four in the afternoon.It was part three of our pasalubong spree upon our arrival at the city proper. And yes, we have arrived at the best and cheapest deals at the Tiangge. Palawan shirts at Php 80.00, key chains at three pieces for Php 50.00, colorful bracelets at Php 100.00 per dozen. Plus you can haggle if you can use your old Makati charm.
Sadly, (ahh) the Palawan souvenirs have to be with our bags on our return flight the following morning.
PALAWAN: THE MONDAY ADJECTIVE
Monday, July 20
Palawan. Princesa, the Princess. Puerto, the Port, the Entrance.
For three wonderful and unforgettable days, Puerto Princesa unlocked its gates, wide-opened, to young professionals from the busy outskirts of Makati. And in that three days of being welcomed strangers into the Philippines’ Last Frontier, we have witnessed Palawan’s unexplainable charisma – from its relentless pursuit to environmental conservation to our first-hand commune with nature’s wildlife, from the treasures of its historical reminders and the many stories behind them, and from the laidback Palaweño lifestyle to the warm hospitality of its people.
All these and more. All these in a princess’ immaculate turf. All these made us crave for more of…
“PALAWAN!!!”
Palawan. Princesa, the Princess. Puerto, the Port, the Entrance.
For three wonderful and unforgettable days, Puerto Princesa unlocked its gates, wide-opened, to young professionals from the busy outskirts of Makati. And in that three days of being welcomed strangers into the Philippines’ Last Frontier, we have witnessed Palawan’s unexplainable charisma – from its relentless pursuit to environmental conservation to our first-hand commune with nature’s wildlife, from the treasures of its historical reminders and the many stories behind them, and from the laidback Palaweño lifestyle to the warm hospitality of its people.
All these and more. All these in a princess’ immaculate turf. All these made us crave for more of…
“PALAWAN!!!”
---
EXPERIENCE THE PALAWAN ADJECTIVES…
CULTURAL...
...INVITING
...RELAXING...
INVIGORATING...
...CAPTIVATING
...ENTICING...
REFRESHING...
NATURAL
---
Special mention for the following officemates who have shared their Palawan pictures: Miss Ghislain Barro, Miss Jemaica de la Cruz, Mark Joseph Pizana, and Jonathan Servania. Without these snapshots, the articles would have not been complete. The following links have provided invaluable references for the Palawan experience:
For Palawan and Puerto Princesa
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puerto_Princesa_City
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palawan
http://www.puertoprincesaboard.com/
For Plaza Cuartel
http://www.historynet.com/american-prisoners-of-war-massacre-at-palawan.htm
For Palawan Wildlife Rescue and Conservation Center
http://www.experiencepalawan.com/crocodilefarm.php
For Iwahig Penal Colony
http://www.wirephoto.com/swallace/iwahig.files/Iwahig.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iwahig_Prison_and_Penal_Farm
http://www.thepinoy.com/sites/archipelago/html/dalisay2.html
For Mitra Retreat House
http://www.senate.gov.ph/senators/former_senators/ramon_mitra.htm
For Hunda Bay
http://www.philippinecountry.com/philippine_beach/hondabay.html
http://www.wowphilippines.com.ph/explore_phil/place_details.asp?content=famousefor&province=22
For Palawan Underground River
http://www.e-philippines.com.ph/destinations-puerto-princesa-palawan-c-343_354.html
http://www.wowphilippines.com.ph/explore_phil/place_details.asp?content=famousefor&province=22
For Mangrove Paddle Boat Tour
http://bararing.blogspot.com/2008/10/exotic-tamilok.html
EXPERIENCE THE PALAWAN ADJECTIVE!!!
Contact 3B’S TOURS AND TRAVEL at (048) 434-1436.
Friday, August 14, 2009
SIGAW: BITUIN
Sa araw nawawala ang bituin, hinihintay ko ang gabi upang kuminang muli ang aking mundo…ako’y tahimik lamang sa pagmamasid habang hinehele ako ng kanyang mga panaginip.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
PALAWAN: BARAS
Eto ang munting tula...
BUHANGIN
Parang saliw ng buhangin,
nakikita mo ako –
ngunit hindi
mo ako pinapansin.
Parang alon ng dagat,
nilulunod mo ako
sa iyong tingin – at ‘di
mo ito napapansin.
Parang ihip ng hangin,
niyayakap kita,
palihim – at ‘di
mo dapat ito mapansin.
At parang dalampsagigang
may inililihim,
minamahal kita…
…’di mo ba napapansin?
Parang saliw ng buhangin,
nakikita mo ako –
ngunit hindi
mo ako pinapansin.
Parang alon ng dagat,
nilulunod mo ako
sa iyong tingin – at ‘di
mo ito napapansin.
Parang ihip ng hangin,
niyayakap kita,
palihim – at ‘di
mo dapat ito mapansin.
At parang dalampsagigang
may inililihim,
minamahal kita…
…’di mo ba napapansin?
~~~~~
BARAS
Mejo eyep ang baras,
nakikita mo ako -
pero ara mo ako
ning iniintindi.
Mejo daluyon ang dagat,
inglelelemes mo ako
sa imong paneling - ig ara
mo ako naintindi.
Mejo eyep ang angina,
ingkekepan takaw,
Patago - ig indi
mo ako ing intindi.
Ig mejo baybayen
Nga ing tatagó,
ing gegegma takaw…
…ara mo ba naintindian?
----
Biglang kumati ang mga kamay ko sa Sabang Beach, Palawan hindi dahil sa buhangin o dahil sa alon ng dagat – kung hindi dahil sa mga letrang nais lumabas at makilangoy sa kapwa nila letra, upang makabuo ng mga salita ng araw, tubig, at buhangin.
Ang problema: wala akong pluma at papel habang kaharap ko ang dalampasigan, tahimik na minamasdan ang mga ka-opisinang nakikipagkaibigan sa mababagsik na mga alon.
Ang solusyon: ginawa kong pluma ang aking daliri at ginawa kong papel ang handog ni Sabang Beach sa nangangati kong kamay – ang buhangin.
At ang naging bunga ng pakikipagsapalaran ay ang Buhangin. Isinalin ng aming tour guide na si Edna B. de Los Angeles ang Buhangin sa Cuyuno. (Ang Cuyuno ang lokal na wika ng mga Cayunonen o Cayunon, mga mamamayanan ng Cuyo Island, Palawan*.) Dahil sa pagsalin ng mga letrang Tagalog sa letrang Cuyuno, ang Buhangin ay naging Baras.
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*www.ncca.gov.ph
Pasalamat: kay Mark Joseph Pizana sa pagkuha sa larawang nakatalikod ako. Hindi mabubuo ang buhangin kung wala ito. Salamat kaibigan.
at Kay Kaibigang Panginoon sa mga lihim ng Palawan at paggawa ng sapat na mga elemento para makunan ko ang kagandahan ng mga ito. Lubos kaming pinagpala sa Inyong Kabutihan.
PALAWAN: HINGA MALALIM
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Masaya kung mag-isa ka lang.
Yung hindi mo iniintindi ang mundong nakalibot sa ‘yo.
Tanging ikaw lang at ang mundo mo – hindi mundo nila o mundo niya, kung hindi mo lang.
Bakit tahimik ka?, tanong niya.
Nakikihati lang sa katahimikan ng dagat, sagot ko.
Bakit, tahimik ba?
Oo, tahimik – tahimik sa mundo ko…
…(hinga malalim) at ng karagatan.
Walang imik.
Naging tahimik muli.
Masaya kung mag-isa ka lang.
Yung hindi mo iniintindi ang mundong nakalibot sa ‘yo.
Tanging ikaw lang at ang mundo mo – hindi mundo nila o mundo niya, kung hindi mo lang.
Bakit tahimik ka?, tanong niya.
Nakikihati lang sa katahimikan ng dagat, sagot ko.
Bakit, tahimik ba?
Oo, tahimik – tahimik sa mundo ko…
…(hinga malalim) at ng karagatan.
Walang imik.
Naging tahimik muli.
PALAWAN: FUNDADOR
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FUNDADOR
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Bangag ako
at
ako’y natutu
naw sa iyong mga tingin –
tila bituin na pitil kong minimitih, atttt ang
iyong mga labbi, na puno ng “”after-mark
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Bangag ako
at
ako’y natutu
naw sa iyong mga tingin –
tila bituin na pitil kong minimitih, atttt ang
iyong mga labbi, na puno ng “”after-mark
s” ng ininum na
FUNDaDor, ay ang SiyAA’ng
Dahilla NG pagka ngayonG GGABI(.)
N lasing
FUNDaDor, ay ang SiyAA’ng
Dahilla NG pagka ngayonG GGABI(.)
N lasing
M
A
H
H
A
L
KITA, nngguunniittt tanging ALAK
lang
nga makakaRINIG saaa dalamhating ito –
dalamhaati sapagkat, RAK ‘EN ROL,
hindi mo
ako
pwedeng mahalin, tang ina mo!!!1
HINDi PWEDE
AKONG MAHALIN
…TagAY…
At habang, nagshishinungaling ang Camay
Ko-o sa pagkaMATINO…
Patuloy,,, kong hinahabi ang aikng isipan –
N apuno ng mga pangarap ng
Ikaw ang tayong dalawa ---
Ako at
Sha mundo ng kalasingan,
Sha mundo ng aking Pantasya….
!RAK ‘EN ROL!
lang
nga makakaRINIG saaa dalamhating ito –
dalamhaati sapagkat, RAK ‘EN ROL,
hindi mo
ako
pwedeng mahalin, tang ina mo!!!1
HINDi PWEDE
AKONG MAHALIN
…TagAY…
At habang, nagshishinungaling ang Camay
Ko-o sa pagkaMATINO…
Patuloy,,, kong hinahabi ang aikng isipan –
N apuno ng mga pangarap ng
Ikaw ang tayong dalawa ---
Ako at
Sha mundo ng kalasingan,
Sha mundo ng aking Pantasya….
!RAK ‘EN ROL!
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Ishinulat sa Palawan habang medyo nakakainum na ang aking bibig at nagmamakatino ang aking mga kamay. Rak ‘En Rol!!! Mukhang mineral water bottle sa blog, tunay na Fundador sa Word Document, rak 'en rol!!!
PALAWAN
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Ang susunod na tatlong katha ay isinulat ko sa Puerto Princesa – isa habang ako’y nagpapatino mula sa pag-inom ng Fundador, isa habang ako’y tahimik at inuutusan ko ang sarili na Hinga Ng Malalim, at ang isa habang nakikipagsapalaran sa huni ng Buhangin.
Sana maibigan ninyo ang mga muthing komposisyong ito habang sinusulat ko pa ang mga naganap sa aming cluster outing sa...
PALAWAN!!!
Ang susunod na tatlong katha ay isinulat ko sa Puerto Princesa – isa habang ako’y nagpapatino mula sa pag-inom ng Fundador, isa habang ako’y tahimik at inuutusan ko ang sarili na Hinga Ng Malalim, at ang isa habang nakikipagsapalaran sa huni ng Buhangin.
Sana maibigan ninyo ang mga muthing komposisyong ito habang sinusulat ko pa ang mga naganap sa aming cluster outing sa...
PALAWAN!!!
DAY SEVEN: BALIK
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No pictures were taken as I left Dipolog and my family. I don’t want to hold false pretenses in my memory bank. I don’t want to smile gladly at the camera’s flash when all I want is to be at one corner, alone, like that Silent Kid in Kindergarten. I don’t want to leave the place…
…but I need to.
I wonder now what my love ones are doing back in their normal lives. After one week of welcoming me back into their system, they will have to return to the normal process of contact - hearing my voice over the phone, viewing uploaded pictures at Friendster, non-stop texting of kamustahans and missing yous. Yes, much like what an OFW family normally does.
If only Dipolog was relocated to Laguna or Makati be a two-hour ride away from the Boulevard. If only vacation leaves be accommodated weekly and work pressures be reduced to the regular Monday to Friday, eight to five work schedules. If only meeting them was as easy as answering a pop quiz in Facebook: “Find out what City you want to be in now?”
DIPOLOG CITY!
Oh, well. There’s nothing I can do except than to wait for cold December breeze to bring me back to my place.
For now, I’m staying away from Michael Buble’s “I Wanna Go Home” and Daughtry’s “Home” - knowing how much it might lead to depression like what happened back in college, third year. But come to think of it, that depression led to one tWs article, Babalik Ka Rin, which I have always considered a “good pat on the back.”
Self-Inflicted Depression, Silent Kid?
“…another sunny place, I’m lucky I know but I wanna go home, I got to go home, let me go home, I’m just too far, from where you are, I wanna come home…”
No pictures were taken as I left Dipolog and my family. I don’t want to hold false pretenses in my memory bank. I don’t want to smile gladly at the camera’s flash when all I want is to be at one corner, alone, like that Silent Kid in Kindergarten. I don’t want to leave the place…
…but I need to.
I wonder now what my love ones are doing back in their normal lives. After one week of welcoming me back into their system, they will have to return to the normal process of contact - hearing my voice over the phone, viewing uploaded pictures at Friendster, non-stop texting of kamustahans and missing yous. Yes, much like what an OFW family normally does.
If only Dipolog was relocated to Laguna or Makati be a two-hour ride away from the Boulevard. If only vacation leaves be accommodated weekly and work pressures be reduced to the regular Monday to Friday, eight to five work schedules. If only meeting them was as easy as answering a pop quiz in Facebook: “Find out what City you want to be in now?”
DIPOLOG CITY!
Oh, well. There’s nothing I can do except than to wait for cold December breeze to bring me back to my place.
For now, I’m staying away from Michael Buble’s “I Wanna Go Home” and Daughtry’s “Home” - knowing how much it might lead to depression like what happened back in college, third year. But come to think of it, that depression led to one tWs article, Babalik Ka Rin, which I have always considered a “good pat on the back.”
Self-Inflicted Depression, Silent Kid?
“…another sunny place, I’m lucky I know but I wanna go home, I got to go home, let me go home, I’m just too far, from where you are, I wanna come home…”
DAY SIX: BAKIT
Mama said it best, “The problem with hello is goodbye.”Six days ago, my dream of going back to Dipolog and spending time with people “that matter most in my life” came true. And now, as I write this, I have to temporarily leave this home (again) and trade all this unconditional love I get from my humble abode for the harsh and often unforgiving realities of Makati.
Reflecting back on the six cumulative days I had here, I would have to painfully accept the fact that vacation leaves would most probably be the routine for the rest of my professional life. That’s the reality probinsyanos like me are facing, in search of “greener pastures”. Knowing how meager my salary is, I would say “greener experiences” would be the more appropriate term.
I now ask myself a serious question: Is the search for “greener experiences” worth the sacrifice of being away from my family for months? Is the “market value” greater than spending time recharging your “family values”? Is the sacrifice, per se, worth it?
That remains a great debate on my part, honestly.
As I have said in Day One, I’m not used to the Dipolog City life anymore. My dear city may not provide the thrills and excitement of growth as much as Makati would offer. But one thing Makati cannot buy away from Dipolog is the fact that the latter would always be my home, my humble sanctuary. It is where I was educated to be who I am now, and much I owe back to her.
Dipolog is where I could freely taste Mama’s adobo, intellectually learn from Papa Kik’s principles, and genuinely tease my brother whose growing up quickly like the giant Goliath. It is where strolling around the Boulevard with my friends would, in an instant, bring us back to our high school uniform and tuksuhan days.
Dipolog is where everyday and everything looks, sounds, and feels free. In the words of Daughtry’s Home, “where feeling good don’t ever cost a thing, and the pain you feel is a different kind of pain.”
Going back to the Orchid City has become more than an approved Vacation Leave – it has become a humbling experience.
It has thought me how valuable my family is.
How they have shared their efforts in preparing a small thanksgiving beach party for my return. Kung si Obet pa, “Ah, warag gikan Canada.” How papa purposely shaved his moustache, “as to disguise his personal business matters.” How mama prepared my favorite adobo for my first Dipolog meal after eight months of separation.
It has also thought me how valuable friendship is.
How I chose to spend time with friends “that matter most in my life”. How a simple kamustahan would easily rekindle the months of not having to communicate personally. How a simple advice would mean the world to a recently heartbroken pal (ok lang yan pre).
It has also thought me what humility truly is.
How my high school teachers still remember that thin nerd they used to teach some five years ago. How the Cathedral helped me thank for the many prayers that has been answered by humbling before His presence. How this starting Makati lad has and will always be that “small probinsyano boy with big skyscraper dreams.”
But I’m leaving this Home for now. I’ll be back by December, by God’s grace.
By afternoon tomorrow, I’ll be surrounded by the four walls of my rented apartment unit, equally anticipating conversations with my “adapted family.”
My roommates will surely ask how the vacation went, and one thing I would sure say…
“THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE HOME.”
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