It really is summer now, isn’t it? I can tell from the rancid, unmistakably sweat-induced smell that assaulted me as I entered the cramped elevator noontime yesterday. Though I had to hold my breath till the 29th floor, I can't help but smile to myself. It's summertime, yey!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Funky
It really is summer now, isn’t it? I can tell from the rancid, unmistakably sweat-induced smell that assaulted me as I entered the cramped elevator noontime yesterday. Though I had to hold my breath till the 29th floor, I can't help but smile to myself. It's summertime, yey!
Monday, March 30, 2009
I miss school
The last class I attended, way back in 2007, was a three-unit penalty course I had to take for exceeding the university’s Maximum Residency Rule and the last hurdle left before I can finally finish my master’s degree in Social Development Studies. And it turned out to be a real punishment, indeed.
Since I was already living here in Manila then, I had to endure the weekly seven-hour torturous bus ride to Baguio to attend my three-hour class, and then immediately after another seven-hour bus ride back to Manila. Every week we are assigned a couple of inches thick of inscrutable articles, chapters and multiply cross-referred references, all of which we are required to read and write a short paper about containing our supposedly distilled, but often inchoate, thoughts and ideas. Having to read, understand and integrate each article into one coherent whole, initially inside my head, and then be able to transfer it on paper is a daunting--almost impossible and seemingly interminable--task.
It is a marvel to me, until now, how I survived that bloody semester. What I’m entirely sure of is how I miss every gory detail of it. I miss school.
I miss those sleepless nights I spent reviewing for long exams. With adrenaline running high, what kept me awake all night long was this one obsessive thought: I must get a 1.0 for this exam. I miss all the research – all the blood, sweat and tears - that goes behind crafting a paper. And the heightened feeling I get from earning a good grade afterwards is truly incomparable. I miss the challenge of making sense of the abstruse ramblings of ancient and contemporary philosophers and social theorists. I miss those frequent intellectual orgies with my classmates. I miss the interaction inside the classroom whose sheer informality nullifies the usual teacher-student distinctions and enables everyone to be a learner, instead.
I miss school.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
the universal urge to be otherwise
I spent most of the weekend reading Philip Roth's Operation Shylock: A Confession (1993), from which I find this passage so true:
...people are trying to transform themselves all the time: the universal urge to be otherwise. So as not to look as they look; sound as they sound, be treated as they are treated, suffer in the ways they suffer, etc., etc., they change hairdos, tailors, spouses, accents, friends, they change their addresses, their noses, their wallpaper, even their forms of government, all to be more like themselves or less like themselves, or more like or less like that exemplary prototype whose images is theirs to emulate or to repudiate obsessively for life.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Rush Mode
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
plans, plans, plans
Hop on a plane and spend a few days in Boracay – that’s the plan. But it’s like so many forces are at work to make it merely a dream and less of a plan. The fact that we now reside in different countries is not the only issue to contend with. Factor in visa requirements, family obligations, incongruent schedules and different priorities, and the more the plan turns into wishful thinking. The only thing that holds the plan together and makes it attainable is our strong desire to, once again, be with each other.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
The Greeter's Lounge
Buzzing with so much excitement, it is a place where, in the middle of the night, not a single person looks sleepy. Everywhere I look, I see faces glowing with wide-eyed anticipation, unmindful of the place’s chicken coop atmosphere. With bridled impatience, greeters alternately glance at their watches, the small monitor announcing flight schedules, and the arrivals ramp across the street.
It is a place where expressions of heartfelt delight abound. Cries of She’s here! That’s him! Welcome home! Welcome back! – all uttered with undisguised joy - can be heard all around. The way people’s faces light up as they catch a sight of the person they’re waiting for amidst the crowd is very heartwarming.
It is a place where all waiting ends. It is where you will witness the sweetest of kisses exchanged by couples reunited after long periods of separation. It is where the person you’ve been waiting for becomes that person you can finally press your face into and wrap your arms around.
Monday, March 23, 2009
when i don't update my blog
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Certain Scent
Isn’t it astounding how a certain scent, a particular smell, can bring back a plethora of memories?
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Bangkok Chronicles Five: Impressions


Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Bangkok Chronicles Four: Throne Halls and Temples
The Royal Pantheon (Prasat Phra Monthian Dharma) in which statues of past sovereigns of the ruling Chakri dynasty are enshrined
What amazes me most among these structures is the intricacy of detail devoted to each piece:

The Dusit Maha Prasat Throne Hall is furnished by an exquisite mother-of-pearl inlaid throne surmounted by a nine-tiered white canopy, a symbol of the duly crowned king. Its principle function has been and still is a hall for the lying-in-state of kings, queens, and honored members of the royal family
From the

If Wat Arun is impressive during daytime, it is equally so, or even more, at night. Here’s a photo of Wat Arun taken from a restaurant across the river, The Deck at Wat Arun Residence, where D and I had a lovely dinner overlooking the river.
Wealth of the World
Books are the treasured wealth of the world and the fit inheritance of generations and nations. Books, the oldest and the best, stand naturally and rightfully on the shelves of every cottage. They have no cause of their own to plead, but while they enlighten and sustain the reader his common sense will not refuse them. Their authors are a natural and irresistible aristocracy in every society, and, more than kings or emperors, exert an influence on mankind.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Rustication
I’d like to build a house by the beach with plenty of books to read, music to listen to, with the love of my life drinking Shiraz or Merlot without a care in the world. Occasionally, we would visit a museum in the urban jungle, see a day baseball game, go to an exotic place, hike the Appalachia, camp under the stars, see a play or go to a concert, dinner at a small restaurant by the Windsor castle and lots and lots of laughter. And do it all over again… I'd like you in my dreams, traipsing on the beach, teasing each other’s follies and you quoting famous dead people.
So far-fetched it seemed then, but it is now almost within our reach. It is so close that I can almost hear our laughter blending with the lulling sound of the waves and the rhythm of country life. It is so close that I am eager to be dislodged from where I am today. It is so close that I find myself anxious to say goodbye to life as I knew it and to embrace a new one with you.
Others may not believe it, but I yearn for the quiescence of a bucolic life--away from all the unnerving noise and enervating zombie-like energy of the city--punctuated with occasional visits to the world beyond it. I yearn for a home where, while fashioning sentences, I can look out the window and actually see the true color of the sky, vivid and not steeped in smog. The boondocks it may seem but it provides all of life’s essentials. Above all these, I yearn to have a world of our own, the life of our dreams.
Just a little bit more. We are almost there.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Toga
Friday, March 13, 2009
Bangkok Chronicles Three: Lumphini Park
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Right of Way
It’s crazy how D just steps off the curb and proceeds walking along the pedestrian lane oblivious to the onslaught of speeding vehicles coming from who knows where. I had to explain to him, here in Manila you have to look in all directions before you attempt to cross the road. Drivers won’t stop even if there’s a pedestrian lane or a red light. He protests, but it’s my right of way! Yes, that may be the case but what’s the use of claiming that it’s your right of way if you’re already maimed or killed? Right of way is neither enforced nor followed here. Everywhere I see impatient motorcycle riders sneaking and snaking their vehicles even into the tightest of spaces, using the sidewalk--originally meant for people going on foot and not on wheels--just to escape traffic jams. They just can not and will not wait for their turn. It’s so exasperating how they bend the rules to their advantage, acting as if they own both the road and the sidewalk. For us lowly people without wheels, walking, once beneficial to our health, has now become a hazard.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Bangkok Chronicles Two: Cabbages and Condoms

unconvincing, implausible and blah
I’ve recently watched three hype-producing, award-winning, critically acclaimed, supposedly good movies: Gran Torino, The Reader and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Contrary to popular perception, though, I find all films totally unconvincing, implausible and just plain blah. Watching movies presupposes suspension of disbelief but as I sat down and continued staring at the flickering screen, listening hard to what’s being said and trying to comprehend what’s happening, my incredulity mounted. Then boredom set in.
I can’t help but wonder, do those movies really stink or is it just me?
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Bookhouse
Looking at my table, it suddenly dawned on me that I need a bookcase. The table has become so crowded with all the b ooks that kept piling up over the past two years I’ve stayed in my apartment. Now I not only have more desk space but my books have their own home. I had fun organizing them as I relived how each book became my source of wisdom and refuge, how they radically dismantled everything I’ve known and believed in, how they rocked my world and illuminated what was once dark and made ambiguous what was once clear. Every time I look at the small bookhouse, I can’t help but be delighted--and awed--with the vastness it contains.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Bangkok Chronicles One: Street Food

We started with the roasted tilapia, so fresh and yummy (and went well with D's Singha beer and my own strawberry cola). Then I proceeded with the semi-cooked chicken salad seasoned with chili and herbs. The herbs so powerful, it was absolutely delicious and tasted like nothing I’ve tasted before. I savored each bite, wondering what particular ingredients were added to it. Halfway through, my mouth started to burn. Really, really burn. I’m used to spicy food but for that one, I think I drank almost a liter of water. D tasted it and he, too, had to endure its spicy kick. Just a few hours in the city and we were already having fun!
Here are just some of Bangkok's scrumptious street food:
