Forced Feeding

One of the perks of being in Medicine is actually the continuous barrage of food into your gut. There are grateful patients who bring Red Ribbon cakes and pastries, pancit from the bilao, Gonuts Donuts, lanzones and seasonal fruits. It's a constant blessing and reminder that all these stressful work has borne gustatory delights albeit a superficial joy. We're humbled that there are really people who seek you out just to give you a farewell gift.


What hunger can do to some doctors.

And not only that, the MedReps would cater our lunches so that many will come and hear about their product launch. What a very crafty strategy! They know that in order to lure Filipino doctors into the open, food is needed. Perhaps it's only food that delivers an instant warm feeling to the soul and an instant zap of energy for the upcoming lecture, presentation or conference.

This afternoon, our residents had to present their census for the month in a conference where all the consultants and clinicians will attend it and scrutinize the hits and misses of the residents' clinical practice, in the hope that they will improve their protocols in the future. Each case will be dissected with a fine hair comb of criticisms and violent reactions. But to ease the stomach aches that can trigger a feeding frenzy against the residents, the department (as a norm) decided to feed the sharks with a catered feast. There was chopped lechon with delectable liver sauce, braised beef in tomato-barbecue sauce, palm-sized fish fillets with tartar sauce, steamed rice and for dessert, buko lychee. Yum! Yum! I had seconds, no, thirds! It was perfect! So perfect that I dozed off the entire lecture.

And with that, everyone in the department always look forward to each Friday because it's forced feeding day. No exceptions. No excuses. No escape.

Friendster Fiendster

Filipinos are simply suckers for new (and free) tools aimed at connecting people. That's why we're suckers for Nokia. At first we're suckers for the beepers, then the email, then the texting, then the phonecam, and now, we have another way of keeping us in contact with our friends and beyond. And that is Friendster.

Friendster is fast replacing the current mode of emailing. More than just sending messages, this internet tool has the capability and culpability of spying and snooping around your friends' current pictures and also searching the countless email possibilities of anonymous users. Before, emails tend to be impersonal and detached, now with this freebie, writing mails now have become virtually interactive as if the other person is actually on the other line waiting for your reply. It's great to have a personal face to a somewhat static feature, but sometimes having one takes away the privacy and discretion of the whole practice. Though it depends on your level of exhibitionism, having your personal photo runs the risk being taken advantage out there. It's a double-edged sword which neither one can extricate the good results with the bad possibilities of posting personal items.


Friendster Online...

Eventually, such a feature gives rise to a plethora of alternative entertainment such as voyeurism, cyberdating and cyberprostitution. Undersirable as they are or seem to be (according to the norms of idol-worshipping Catholics of the Philippines), they are some of the possibilites that we can think of as a direct result of our innate nature- nature which according to Plato is evil. Yes, man is evil according to the philosopher. Who am I to object?? That fact that we, as Pinoys, are always tempted to abuse and pervert the original cause of Friendster just shows that being evil is in our blood. But guilt aside, this just shows that we are capable of stretching the possible to near-impossible, which is good in a way. We make use of what we have. Innovate!

Though those are some of its peripheral uses, its main purpose is to reconnect. You reconnect with your old high school friends, your college colleagues, your coworkers, your boss, and your family. You keep them in one tangible box where they can be just a click away. The whole thing brings back nostalgia, all those memorable persons who strike a chord in your heart. You'll see your barkada have grown fat, or with children or with flashy cars or with a new beau. The joys of learning that some of your friends have reached the top or have transfered to the US is exhilarating, and the cruelty of realizing that some of those who tormented you in the past are getting their just rewards now is very very satisfying. And contacting them is so easy.

Instead of keeping folders of impersonal emails, you have rather the faces of those whom you consider an important part of your life. The drawback is that people do not check their Friendsters as freqently as they would do to an ordinary email account, so updates and replies can be pretty erratic and unpredictable. It's because for some this is just a fad. But for many, this has become an extension of their persona in cyberspace.

So, is this tool just a passing game of kings and fools? Or will this gambit become a permanent face in the net? Perhaps only time will tell.

Toxic Tuesday

Obgyne as a specialty is simply not my cup of tea. Tough I somewhat enjoy the rotation (rather more like got the hang of it), I hate the waiting and the anticipating. It's like doing Beckett's play, "Waiting for Godot," over a span of 36 hours doing nothing but engaging in belly rubbing sessions known as "labor watch".

It's one of the laborious and most inefficient medical methods of assessing uterine contractions. I feel you're being chained to the patient 24/7 as if in only 5 seconds, the mother's womb will blow up like Mission Impossible. It's as if that that person is the only patient in the whole ward. It's not only a waste of precious time but also shows how primitive and left behind is our medical field. The equipment needed is a tocometer, but if there is none, all you have to rely is on one's sense of touch. Simple but really impractical. Especially during the peak season.

Speaking of peak season, yesterday I got the taste of blood. In quick successions, mothers in the throw of giving birth were being rushed one by one like an assembly plant of human fetuses into the labor room then to the delivery room. It's a madhouse. Government hospitals must have double the trouble. It's adrenaline rush indeed, to see that after waiting hand and foot for a very long time the patient suddenly shifts to high gear with all the residents and intern involved in alert mode.

They would say, "Ok! put in 8 units Syntocinon to present IV, stat!", "Prep (means to scrub up) na, people! Lalabas na yan!", "Misis, pagtumigas ang tiyan, huminga nang malalim, pigil, and push!! One! Two! Three!... Ten!", "Mali pag-iri mo misis! Magconcentrate ka!" .... it was really a mad mad night.

And when the baby's head is already jutting out the canal, the resident is ready to catch it while I have to clamp, milk and cut the cord quickly and cleanly as possible. After baby's dreadful exit, it's down to the expulsion of the placenta, cleaning of the uterus, and suturing of the vaginal lacerations.

But even though it's a chop-chop timed regimen, the amount of patients pouring in is really nerve wrecking. I just wish my next duty is benign. I wish. I wish!!

The Eagle has Landed

The ever famous Go Nuts Donuts! has arrived in Robinson's Ermita. I was surprised a while ago that a lady was carrying a 6-piece box with the donut label on it. I literally accosted her where she bought them. She said they opened a branch outside Robinson's located at Padre Faura Street right beside Cinnzeo. Wow! It's true!! Now everyone can get their donut fix!!

Pachelbel Rocks!

I was and am still blown away by Pachelbel's Canon in D. He may not be the brightest star of the Classical world where such composers such as Beethoven and Mozart have perpetually carved their fame and fortune but his single, "Canon in D" has won millions around the globe. It is only this melody which made him famous the world over, even if he did compose many Protestant pieces during his lifetime.

Johann Pachelbel (1653 - 1706) lived in Germany during the time of the Age of Enlightenment when Europeans wore wigs and cravats and did not take baths. It was a time of Louis XIV, the sun-king who famously said, "I am the state!" and also the time when the Vermeer painted his Girl with a Pearl Earring. That was the age of Robert Boyle and Isaac Newton. The music, arts and architecture of this era was molded by the Church and nobility whose patronage lifted the humanities to its pinnacle as seen in the lavish and ornate Baroque and Rococo architecture, the rich, realistic and dark colors of Van Dyke and Gainsborough, and the uplifting Baroque music of Vivaldi, Handel and Bach. Unfortunately, Pachelbel was just one speck in that topsy-turvy world where his brilliance was not readily recognized unlike some of his contemporaries who in their lifetime had achieved vast fame and wealth.

Even in today's cynical society still lies the appreciation for the old and classical, and thankfully, Pachelbel lives on. Not many know it but his music has been the inspiration of current bestsellers like that R&B song, "I'll see you when you get there" by Coolio and the "Graduation Song" by pop icon Vitamin C. His Canon in D has also been infused into commercials and wedding marches. In the internet, this is one of the most famous singles and so far it has been transcribed, rerecorded, remixed and jazzed up so many times that there are already lots of variance but the main strain still remains.

Why is this melody so successful? Because of its simplicity. It has been once compared to "Flower Duet" in Delibes' opera, Lakme, the tune of which is fairly familiar with many who have heard it during Olympic commercials and Yanni recordings. But it pales in comparison with the orgasmic and heavenly quality of Canon in D. The tempo is mellowed, more with the objective to lull the listener but the quality of the music uplifts the soul many times over. A perfect anti-depression remedy. Stefan Helander
said it more clearly:

I listen to it when I'm happy and I listen to it when I feel sad. It touches my soul and sends shivers down my spine. And it still does, even though I've listened to it thousands of times.

Enough said. Go and listen to this wonderful music. It's included by the way, in a track in Bond's new cd entitled, "Classified."

The Hand

Ever wonder why almost all doctors have terrible handwriting? It's especially evident in the way prescriptions are written. It's so bad that only the pharmacist can decipher it. By the way, how could Mercury Drug Store clerks ever understand those illegible scripts which even academicians might mistake it with Sanskrit or Mandarin?

It happened to me yesterday when it was so toxic (med lingo for being busy) that I assisted my consultant from 10am until 5pm without any lunch break. My feet were already tired and livid from standing up and going to and fro. Anyway, the doctor on hand assigned me to type a medical referral for a patient in waiting. She was blurting out paragraphs while my mind was merely latching just to some phrases of it. I am not sure if it was just me being slow in memorization or she was too fast in her instructions. To help me in typing it, she scribbled the important points to be included into the certificate. I tried recognizing the familiar letters but her handwriting was soooooo bad that it looked more terrible than the worst Arabic steno ever found. Anyway, I had to waste a long time deciphering it but fortunately, the staff in the rehab have already grown accustomed to her scratchy script that upon presenting the draft, they were able to comprehend and translate it for me. It was lost in translation, indeed! But seriously, it was really a pain trying to understand all the unintelligible squiggly lines and loop-d-loops.

It comes to the point where I began to reflect on the effects of being a doctor. Does this mean that being one, one is predisposed to develop "malgraphicus medicus"? It must be attributed to the tight and toxic schedule of a clinician whose mind works faster than his hand. So, in the effort to catch up the physician's train of thought, the hand has lost its ability to punctuate its sentences. But logically, who wants to have bad handwriting skills, huh? In fact, no one. It just so happens that physicians use their writing faculties mostly to write abbrevations, short cuts, orders, etc, and not wordy technical essays. All things must be brief, short and straight to the point.

Rationalization aside, the repercussions of having bad handwriting is huge. Columnist Michael Tan, said it plainly:

"The physician may have prescribed Losec, an anti-ulcer drug, but careless dispensing could mean Lasix being given to the patient, which makes a world of a difference because Lasix is a drug to induce urination."

A bad stroke can make a big difference- some deadly. That's why doctors take time to explain everything that's written on the prescription sheet, which he assumes that the patient understands the name of the drug.

So, on your next visit to the clinic. Be sure to check on the handwriting of your doctor. The worse it is, the better that doctor is, because it just means that there are more patients who come for consultation, which after the doctor has written countless amount of prescriptions, his handwriting is sure to deteriorate.

Kama Sutra Therapy

What's that thing dangling from the lady?

I thought Physical Therapy (PT) was just about flexing muscles and trying to reach the full range of motion of the affected muscle groups. I also thought it was just limited to... you know, weights, treadmills, steppers, hydromachines, parrafin wax treatments, electrostimulations, but No! It did not stop there.

While I was perusing this three-inch thick textbook on physical therapy which I got from their mini-library, I chanced upon pg.197 which, lo and behold, in full illustration, was the Kama Sutra of PT. I know it's not my place to pass judgement over what these therapists learn in school, but sex therapy? Yes, that's the title of the chapter: "Sex Therapy" I cannot imagine these PTs having practical exams on this topic during their training years. Can you picture a love doll for a partner during a return demo? It's kinky, i know.


This is sick!

Also, for me it's very very wierd to encourage couples to engage in sexual intercourse even if one of them is disabled. I don't prejudice those with handicaps because it's a fact that their sexual functions and appetites still exist whether we like it or not. Libido is still there, unless you wish to do a lobotomy. Some disabled are "capable of rape" daw, as seen in the newspapers and tv series. But perhaps it's not a very nice sight to see paraplegics engaging in foreplay where the muscle groups needed for sexual initiation and follow-through are disabled. The quadriceps, biceps, hamstrings, abdominals and others which come to play during sex are the same muscles that are weakened during strokes and accidents. Can you imagine fornicating with someone who has a colostomy bag in front? Could you imagine yourself having fun with a quadriplegic stroke patient? Can you imagine Stephen Hawkins having sex with his female colleague? It's possible but improbable. I think it's not only silly, it's absurd. But in this time of political correctness, I stand corrected.


They say stroke patient's are capable of rape? Please!

The bottom line perhaps, is that as humans with sexual desires, we cannot limit others in persuing this lustful pleasure solely because of physical disability. It is probably a good thing to give them alternatives on how to engage in such activity while maximizing their remaining active muscle groups. But political blah-blah aside, it's a bit wierd and perverse, more to the taste of necrophilia perhaps?

But as they say, "you can't knock it 'til you try it."

Muy Sobresaliente!

Certified Chef d'Angelo Addict

Chef d'Angelo is for me the epitome of cheap, sulit, gourmet food. Every time you eat here is always a pleasant discovery. And almost all foodlovers agree.

It's located at the heart of Robinson's Place - Ermita (and other Robinson malls) and there are plans to open another resto at Glorietta. That is a very terrific idea considering the purchasing power of the urbane yuppies hanging out there.

Good thing the line wasn't that long, so we got to order fast. I ordered Potato Cheese Choder (P52) and their P98 Sampler #1 consisting of a huge "Big Bird" chicken breast coated in batter, deepfried, with Caesar's salad, and a 9" Hawaiian Pizza. With a raspberry ice tea, the night was perfect. Enna on the other hand, ordered P78 Sampler #3 made up of soup and the same pizza while Mark got Spaghetti with Beer Sausage. He was so stuffed that he wasn't able to finish the rest of the pasta.

The servings are large and quite cheap when compared to the same food served in some restaurants. Their P145 9" Great White Pizza (Bacon, shrimps, mushrooms with garlic over rich and creamy Alfredo Sauce) is better and more satisfying than say, a P150+ Family Hawaiian Greenwich Pizza. The dough of the latter is more chewy and delectable to the palate while the former tastes like a stale uncooked bread stick or that sidewalk, 3M pizza.

The other great thing about Chef is the quality of food they serve. It's gourmet and at par with Don Henrico's or Italiani's in quality. They really know how to combine good ingredient to produce great combinations...like shrimps and thick garlic Alfredo sauce... or different herbs and tomato sauce... teriyaki and pizza... you know, fusion stuff. Though the service needs improvement partly due to the fact that the place is always packed, it's better than the usual restaurants. It has that Italianni's personalized touch so to speak.

So, if you want to gorge down on great classy gourmet food that's easy on the budget, then, you must try Chef d'Angelo.

Rating: (Passing grade of 75%)

Food Content: 96%
Staff Projection: 82%
Price Impact: 90%
Audience Appeal: 94%
Ambience & Special Effects: 86%

Total Average Score of: 90%

Fragile Flame

The li'l cutiee!

There was one patient at the Rehab clinic today who left an indelible print in my mind. She was just barely two years old and already she has been afflicted by a disease that only stubborn and sedentary people get- stroke. Yes, a child of two can have a stroke. It’s called “Stroke in the Young” and it’s quite a rare condition considering that the cause of this disease is not due to lifestyle factors. Many times it’s due to blood diseases wherein a blood clot forms and becomes dislodged into one of the many arteries of the brain, thus, causing a stroke.

Late in the afternoon she was playing with the Rehab’s toys and was enjoying herself with the company of the PT staff who were responsible for her therapy. She was being helped to walk since she was dragging her right foot. Her warm smile and energy made me suddenly realize that in life, no amount of tragedy can take away your ability to smile, more so, to love. Also I became acutely aware that anything can happen to anyone as if Fate was playing Russian roulette, that no amount of preparation or contingencies made can prevent a sudden twist of fate from happening. But on the other side of this seemingly futile notion, lies a silver lining which tells us that God is there and that no matter how heavy is our cross or how tragic is our loss, He will help us use our disabilities to be the instruments for his plans. It’s manifest destiny.

From what I saw at the reception area where this bubbly small girl was not really minding the difficulty of walking, I now know that all things happen for a reason, a certain reason, which sometimes its purpose is deeply hidden from sight as of the moment only to be revealed by God’s own time. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle- if the piece you’re holding does not fit into the pattern, get another one and try again, for in the end all the pieces will fall into their righteous place.

Shirt

"Corruptissima republicae, plurimae leges."
-Tacitus, Roman historian


Is it true that MMDA has now implemented an order making guys without shirts unlawful? It's another manifestation of the stupidity that that department is very famous for. It's not only crazy but also a waste of budget and legal space. I guess GMA's austerity measure is being stictly implemented for Bayani Fernando with his cavalier approach to all things has show that his brain can produce miniscule impractical austere measures which doesn't make a dent into our daily lives. It's another useless law by a useless man for a useless cause. Tacitus aptly put it when he said that the more laws a country has, the more corrupt it is.

So what if one will take of his shirt in broad daylight? It's not as if our climate is a Russian winter where anyone with commonsense will be forced to cover themselves. With the humidity and heat of hell, it's just practical sometimes to disrobe our tops.

Look at the Americans. They take off their shirt in public parks, beaches, and streets so they could catch some rays and skin cancer. For them, it's their right if they want to have a shirt or not. I think they're right. It's enshrined in our bill of rights that we have the right to dress as we deem fit. If I'm an Igorot by heritage, is it unlawful if I exercise my culture in Luneta? It's ironic that this banal topic is even being exploited by our government just so they can rack up brownie points into their legislative portfolio. The sheer audacity of it is already disgusting.

What are we? Prudes? It's as if we're receding into the middle ages. Or into a despotic rule of a communist pig called Fernando. I can't believe that having a shirt off can strike malice into other people. This just shows that women are hornier than man for it is they who act like prudes and complain about immodesty but put malice into anything that's bare. I'm not a misogynist but this same applies to older males. As the Little Prince once said, "Malice is in the eyes of the beholder."

The Promise of Internal Life

My hiatus as a certified bum has officially ended. Today, I rejoined my co-interns in their daily grind at the San Juan de Dios Hospital. It's a feeling of anticipation (because of the new things I'll discover in the course of my training) and dread (because of the level of responsibility being expected at this time). Being in this profession is never routine work. Every patient presents a new page for learning. There is no flowchart to follow, just instincts and gutfeel. There is no assembly-line management, but case-to-case basis. It's indeed both a sense of wonder and dread when you restart internship. I kept asking myself, "Do I have what it takes to become a good doctor?" I pray to God to grant me the strength and endurance to master and apply all that I have.

My rotation (since I was on LOA) was a toss-up between Rehab Med and Radio. Both were pretty benign areas and one has the luxury to go home and sleep at the comfort of a bed. I was placed in the Rehab Medicine department where most of the patients there were post-CVDs (stroke) and people who have back pains due to work. The center looked like an air-conditioned work-out gym but instead of trainors, you have PTs and OTs as your gym buddy. I was surprised to note that there were a lot of seamen (no pun intended) who have lower back pains which according to my consultant was due to their occupation of lifting heavy equipment. What else were there? Osteoarthritis, scoliosis, stroke, stroke and more stroke. It's depressing to see people get sick, but what can I do? It's the fact of life, the circle of birth and death. And perhaps with physical therapy, it's not only their body that's being healed, but also their hurt and frustrations whose handicaps have incapacitated them from leading a full life. As they say, time heals all wounds, and perhaps in this way, we can help chip in.

My Milkshake Bringeth

Just can't resist putting this here. So, click it. 

Bulgogi Night

Tita Astrid (Tita Groovy) suddenly remembered the ongoing Midnight Madness sale in G4.

It was my cousin's birthday, so he treated my aunt, his siblings and me to this obscure Korean restaurant called Bi-Won in Makati near Rockwell. It was a Friday night when yuppies become mananangals but to our surprise, the place was virtually to ourselves save for a couple of Koreans on the next table. We ordered bulgogi, smoked mackarel in Korean marinade, and Korean Bbq. Considering there were several mini-appetizers like Kimchi, century quail eggs, fried camote, spiced sayote, and seasoned tofu paste, it was like a mini-feast. But some of the appetizers were really acquired tastes. It was a really good meal- not that heavy but busog. We chowed down every morsel and relished every bite. And with Coke to round it all up, the night was perfect.

The thing I have observed is this: Are we gradually being invaded by Koreans? Unlike the Japanese who come here only for business trips and go home immediately, Koreans are slowly but gradually being assimilated into the Philippine social fabric. They're like the Chinese. They put up businesses here catering to Korean expats (restaurants, mom-&-pop stores, foot massages) and they eventually stay here for good. Sometimes they even marry Filipinos and have little Korinoys (Korean-Pinoys). If you go to Dasmariñas, Cavite, you will see that there is a strip in Manuelaville where everyone is Korean in ethnicity. It's not I have a bone to pick with them, it's just I am amazed at their assimilation rate. Actually, I hope this trend continues for this brings fresh air into the foreign community here in the country. Then this means more Bulgogi nights for me. =)

Suffer Little Ones

Why should we suffer in this God-forsaken metropolis? The more I live in this squalor, my hatred and loathing for Manila increases. It's not just the garbage and pollution, it's the system, the corrupt and inept government services, the bureaucracy of accomplishing things, the traffic, floods, poor health system, cynicism, greed & materialism, under-the-table dealings, crime, arrogance and lawlessness of the rich, etc.

Manila-bashing is never anti-Filipino or unpatriotic. It's actually a sign that one's brain is not yet filled up with pollutants which convinces one to actually LIKE Manila. Being desensitized and tolerant does not equate to LIKING this shithole of a city. It's funny to hear people say that to bash Manila means bashing Filipinos too, because that person assumes and presumes that this shithole of 11 million rats comprises the whole Philippines disregarding all other provinces out there. Because of centralization, all other other cities outside NCR are beholden to the budget decisions, caprices, and procedural delays of the capital. It supposes too that this hell we're living is inherently "Filipino" and it's part of our "cultural identity". If so, I'd rather not be a part of it. Tinikling, yes; Traffic, no! Calesas, yes; Corruption, no!

Staying here is not a matter of choice. It's a matter of survival. I mean, going to work was never a pleasure. Dealing with the police or government lackeys were never fun. The price of commuting and eating out were never light-hearted. It always has been a struggle, a war for that delicate balance between reaching one's financial success and enjoying most about living. Money vs. Quality of Life. If it's not for the fast influx of profits and the good quality of professional training here, I would be already in the first plane out of here back to the provinces.

I am just finishing my training here, so after the boards, I can chuck all this up ala Gaugin and move to Tahiti... or some far flung idyllic paradise. When? When pa? I don't want to die in this dark shallow grave of the second most polluted city in the world. Oh well, another fools paradise.

Princess Diaries: The Royal Derangement

The Princess Diaries 2 movie trailer promised this was to be a better and more exciting sequel than the first. My friends and I bit the bait so to say. We classified this as a dum-dum movie which means this is a Hollywood fanfare that requires no brain frying and schematic analysis. The gist of this is that Princess Pizza Mia (Anne Hathaway) who just turned 21 must marry off within 30 days, or else, the crown will be given to Prince Charming. But due to "love", she delude herself into engaging with a British nobleman but her heart still beats for prince charming. awwww... gak!

Alas! Twas not to be so!

Where: The setting, if my friend would put it, "looks like it was plucked out from Enchanted Kingdom". The kingdom was too Disneyesque in character that everything looked fake as if they were made from plastic resin. And the so-called royal castle was nothing but a country manor. They could have at least rented a real castle for goodness sake. The interiors were not regal enough for Genovia for it looked like some noveau riche hotel room and lobby.

What: The princess finding her true love... awwww. Remind me to puke on the way out. I expected her to be more intelligent in the matters of love vs. duty since she already graduated from college and had outgrown her clumsy ways. But she still acts as if she was a 14-year old spoiled brat running around the castle breaking all forms of protocols, to the frustration of Queen Julie Andrews and the secret police. Well, she had her shining moments when she spoke with the wisdom and maturity of a queen-to-be. It just shows that Americans can break all the rules and have their cake too. Ugly Americans.

Who: The casting director was a complete idiot. Where in Europe can one find a noble member of parliament who's black? Where can you see a population like Genovia comprising of races ala United Colors of Benetton- White, Latin, Black and Asian? It's too Americanized. This is what you would see in a politically correct Disney Land where affirmative action is the law. And how can Europeans speak with an American twang, save for Julie Andrews? It grates into my ears to hear their pompous self-serving accents try to pass off as if from some small European state. Authenticity-wise, it bombed.

Plot: Well, I was hoping this would be like that 1991 film "King Ralph" starring John Goodman wherein he was trying the ropes to be new King of England but disaster after disaster threatened his ascendancy to the throne. Same villain as in the Princess Diaries where some noble relative wants to grab the throne for himself by orchestrating scandals and accidents against the protagonist whereby the villain was uncovered and all's well that end's well.

Comedy: Very Ok. A few laughs. Some giggles. Several smiles. Enough said.

Rating: One thumb up for concept and Julie Andrews, one thumb down on the casting, and two middle fingers up for any future trilogies of Princess Diaries. Sorry, pun intended.

A Bacolod Treat

A relative from Bacolod arrived in the apartment today bringing several goodies from Bacolod. There were homemade country sausages, and bangus, among others. But the treat I was excited for was the Dulce Gatas.

Dulce Gatas. Also known as Dulce de Leche among Latin American countries like Argentina and Peru, and also known as Caramel spread or Milk Jam in Europe, is a famous dessert in Negros. Most of the product is manufactured in the culinary heart of Silay City. It's made from fresh carabao's milk and sugar which is reduced to a caramel consistency. It is then poured into Tupperware-like pots and is immediately stored in the ref. It's eaten by spooning the sticky mess and licking it like crazy. Dulce Gatas stays for a long long time... more than a month, but due to insistent urge to dig in, it doesn't stay for more than two weeks.


Mmm... heaven. 

This is pure decadence. Mmmm...The texture is soft and slightly oily and it sticks to the tongue.It's like that taste of caramel but with a more "going-down-&-going-up" flavor. Dulce gatas is best eaten cold and in front of the TV after dinner. But it's advisable to treat yourself with a small amount cuz the calorie count and glucose amount is quite high. But with a dessert such as this, who cares?

Peque's Gone Korean

The cover of Summertime.

Yesterday was another treasure-hunting day in Quiapo. There were lots of Asian films especially from Korea and it seems that this country really has a lot to offer. So I went to my suki tindahan and picked up a couple of films. One of which was Jae-ho Park's "Summertime" which was released 2001. I thought for awhile it was standard Korean erotica but the moment the first scene unfolded, I was taken aback to see the stark similarities with this film and Peque's 1983 film, "Scorpio Nights."
Through the internet, it was known that Summertime was indeed the "official" remake of Scorpio Nights with the full blessing of Peque Gallaga.

To say that the film was a remake is an understatement. It's really a xerox copy- from start to finish albeit some insignificant details like the premise why the peeping tom is there and much more.

Looks familiar.

The film itself is filled to the brim with bump-&-grind sex scenes. Not that I enjoy watching it. ^_^wink ^_^wink It's quite graphic but not to the point of being pornographic. No frontal nudity. But to see the actress writhe in sweaty ecstasy is sheer delight. The plot is solid just like Peque's original. But the main selling point of this film is *****oooh.. sex. Nothing but pure adulterated sex.

It might be seen as a rip-off but to see that one of the top Korean directors took notice of our films (take note: by the Experimental Cinema of the Phils.) is already an acknowledgement of our expertise in this field and more importantly, an honor to the Filipino people.

A Dali Moment

I went to Robinson's Place yesterday to meet with a couple of friends for dinner when I saw this most surreal scene: a badminton competition right inside the mall. What thu? I know it's common to see a Catholic mass inside a mall, or a celebrity show, but a badminton tourney?? What gives? It's as if you had a basketball 3-on-3 inside Glorietta or a Wimbledon match inside Harrods. Well, I know for a fact that no one will get "hurt" from a shuttlecock to the head but it's just too close for comfort to see sporty players sweating, racing to the net and jumping up and down in the court.


I can't find where my shuttlecock has landed.

However, I'm glad that this sport is fast gaining respect and support from Filipinos who are already brainwashed with basketball. At least in this way, everyone can play the game- young, old, short, fat, tall, ugly, etc. And the amount you need to spend for badminton is quite affordable- just a trusty racket and a shuttle cock. But the best advantage of this game is that you can play the game practically anywhere, from backyards, to the Baywalk, and yes, even inside a Robinson's mall.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

I can still remember those high school days of being assigned to read novels such as Iliad, J.D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye (which I got bored reading) and short stories by Guy de Maupassant. The material was scarce since we have to contend ourselves with xeroxed copies or have to fight among our classmates for the the limited supply of battered novels from the library. Thus, we were not really honed to appreciate thick written works much more read classical literature.

But if teachers and school administrators try to intensify their literacy campaign by assigning more book reports, initiating literature contests and procuring more novels and classical works, only then perhaps the students can have a more solid and meaningful foundation for their careers. Their vocabulary will expand, they will be able to engage in intelligent and impassioned conversation about history, politics and culture and they'll become aware of different idealogies that will mold their mental outlook. They will not become mere puppets of the media, the government or the church but they will form credible and rational opinions about relationships, justice and progress for which they shall apply later in life.

But alas, nothing like this happens. Not in a large scale. We see whiny students in endless conversations about mindless plots from telenovelas. We see narrow-minded politicians and housewives who cannot stomach anything that's not endorsed by their local priest. We see people believing every propaganda the government gives them without even consulting credible sources. We see stupid crowds salivating at stupid air-headed starlets during election campaigns- campaigns which doesn't address the issues of population control, food security, housing, etc. We see clueless contestants who cannot identify "The Sleeping Giant." We see apathetic college students and employees ignorant of the current state of their environment and who are clueless about their rights and privileges.

I mean, our way of thinking has become a pool of water conforming to whatever shape the surface gives it and trickling down wherever gravity is strong. Many have lost their capacity to think. We have become jaded, cynical and passive most of the time. Our heads are filled with garbage from telenovelas to Eat Bulaga to Kris Aquino's latest tantrum. As they say, "Garbage in, garbage out."

The implications of a mind that does not read are immense. Without reading on history and learning from it, we are doomed to repeat the consequences of our perinneal bad habits. Another is that we are contented to become disposable employees rather than entrepreneurs. Look at the Chinese: they are voracious readers of self-improvement books like Johnson's "Who Moved My Cheese?" so that they have an idea on how to be successful. We are happy to what is doled out to us without question and our lack of imagination (that was not developed due to inadequate reading perhaps) prevents us from pursuing a higher level in life, just like GMA whose method of governace has the imagination proportional to her height.

It saddens me that these things are happening to us. Are we that cursed? I just hope that we shall enough time to flood our brains and purge the garbage within. And plant the seeds for the next generation. It's all a matter of time I guess.

In a Twinkle of an Eye

Yesterday despite of the typhoon, I wrote a long missive about the absurdity on how our elected senators cling to their pork barrel fund as if it was their birthright. So lengthy it was that I felt a pang of fear that such entry was practically inviting Murphy to apply his cursed law. And then I hear the door knocked; it was Murphy himself.

These were the main points from that article:

1. Senators & Congressmen are elected solely for the purpose of legislating. Period. They are not there to earmark pet projects or usurp the responsibilities of the different agencies and the local units. They should leave the initiating, planning, budgeting and implementing of schools, roads, housing, basketball courts, and watersheds to the likes of mayors, governors and provincial agency heads since these are the people who really stay put in their different locales. This "project" thing is the perfect scapegoat for some inutile senators to be absent from senate hearings, committee meetings, etc, where their representative votes are crucial for without their presence, there may not be a quorum to pass anything at all.

2. Many current senators are undeserving of their CDFs. Sen. Osmeña III may have a long list of CDF-funded pet projects in Cebu but his legislative portfolio according to PDI columnist Bambi Harper is nothing more but two bills- bills to rename España and Taft into Tañada and Diokno avenues! Sen. Lapid on the other hand excused himself in the middle of the senate meeting for the defense committee where Sen. Joker was grilling the generals because of some appropriation scam. Lapid didn't contribute as much as a pip in the hearing but instead (yes, in front of the camera) whispered to his staff while showing him the documents pertaining to the meeting. Perhaps Lapid wasn't able to read it beforehand? From what was portrayed in the news, I can assume that the honorable senator did not know what the issue at hand was. Shame indeed. Even Sen. Pimentel lamented how some neophyte senators (Revilla, Lapid & Estrada) aren't keen on learning the ropes of legislating for they are frequently absent during meetings. Probably attending to their "constituents".

Okay, finished. As I pushed the Publish button, to my horror, a terrible error struck. Server not found! What tha &@#*%$! My face went white and my skin became cold. Aaargh!! I then developed a sudden urge to pull out the roots of my hair after realizing that all the words have been erased into oblivion. I cannot believe that such a glitch happened. Aargh! With that, I ate lunch na lang to drown my sorrows and watched Ms. Global Pinay to cheer me up.

Lust Song Syndrome

AAAARGH!!! The building opposite the apartment is really driving me craaazy!! Every night, every blasted single night (from dusk 'til dawn), it plays that infernal racket called, "Itsumo" over and over again. It has probably played it for more than 10 times just this night. My ears are already hemorrhaging from listening to that long-winded pseudo-japanese drivel (whose Niponggo lyrics don't mean one single coherent sentence). And Itsumo is now stucked in my amygdala. I think the song is beginning to transform from "Itsumo" to "Isubo" quickly. My mind is racing to erase the picture of sweaty gyrating, long-haired, spaghetti-strapped morenas bobbing their heads up and down to the beat of the music while their balding, rancid-smelling, pot-bellied British "friend" sport this twisted look as if he had reached the pinnacle of his miserable existence after tasting the Ambrosia of Aphrodite. Ooops. Perish the thought.


Curse this damn boom-boom room!

Unfortunately, my area overlooks that garish establishment so even when I close every last possible space, their slutty songs reverberate through the concrete walls. Damn that law which says that sound travels faster through solid medium. You must have wondered how I sleep at night- involuntary desensitization of noxious aural stimulus.

That cursed God-forsaken place is a pick-up bar called (censored). Try to guess where this rinky-dinky bar is.

Top 5 Ghibli Films

If the God of Manga (Japanese comics)is Osamu Tezuka (maker of Astroboy), then it is rightly so that the God of Anime is Hayao Miyazaki. His animated masterpieces have won accolades around the world and have touched the hearts of every viewer. Film festivals like Berlin, Toronto and Montreal have honored films like Princess Mononoke and Nausicaa and award-giving bodies like the Oscars have given top plum in animation for Spirited Away.

Even Disney animators have acknowledged the divinity of Miyazaki because his fresh approach to animation is not self-serving and childish but rather humanistic wherein not everything is divided into pure good and pure evil, and empathic wherein his characters mature and mellow as the film progresses. His techniques are unbelievably lush, full of life, and painterly- and most Disney films pales in comparison with the details and colors of these japanese cartoons. Oh, and these films are not just for kids. Their themes are deep yet simple and sometimes some details are too raw and unforgiving for the viewing pleasure of kids below 10 (like heads and arms being decapitated in Mononoke). They should see Ghibli's Totoro where the racoons there use their expandable testicles as weapons of mass destruction! But on the whole, Ghibli's Anime respect their viewers unlike those cartoons from the USA (101 Dalmatians) where they infanticize their audience's intelligence.


*All of the non-italicized blurbs below and pictures in this entry can be found in this very comprehensive Ghibli fanpage:
The Hayao Miyazaki Web
The rest are personal inputs and reflections on these Japanese masterpieces.


How dare you make a pass at me!
1. Princess Mononoke
Set during the Muromachi Period (1333-1568) of Japan, Mononoke Hime is a story about a mystic fight between the Animal Gods of the forest and humans.

On the side of the Animal Gods is San (Mononoke Hime), a human girl raised by the wolf god Moro. On the side of the humans is Lady Eboshi, building a kingdom for oppressed people by cutting down the forest for her iron-making operation.

In the middle of this fierce fighting for survival, Ashitaka, an Emishi boy, struggles to find a way for both sides to co-exist. But the fighting just becomes more and more bloody and all hope seems to be lost...

This film has one of the deepest themes in anime history (along with Ghost in the Shell) where one sitting is not enough. Miyazaki I think wanted to critique the delicate balance between man's prolific progress and nature's struggle for survival, where in the end will result in the ultimate destruction of both parties. In it, you can't blame one more than the other. All have their share in the conflict.



Here's your doggy bag, miss.
2. Spirited Away
This is a fantasy adventure with a ten year-old girl, which starts in everyday Japan but goes somewhere very different. For young Chihiro and her family, a mysterious tunnel and haunted town lead to the Land of Spirits, inhabited by gods and monsters and ruled by the greedy witch Yu-baba. Chihiro's parents are transformed into pigs; to rescue them, she must surrender her name and serve in this world. Luckily she finds friends and allies, including the handsome but mysterious boy Haku. Initially sulky and listless, Chihiro (or Sen, as she's now called) finds inner strengths and establishes an identity in this strange world. But can she win back her name and return home?

Spirited Away is a delightful children's adventure story reminiscing of Alice in Wonderland whose characters mature like wine. The setting and colors are masterly done and the plot, though linear, is like a box of chocolates- always full of surprises.



Seita inadvertently reached Metro Manila.
3. Grave of the Fireflies
This is a very somber film about the struggle of two children to survive during World War II. Seita and his younger sister Setsuko are left to fend for themselves when their mother passes away from severe burns inflicted by the American fire-bombing of their town. Their father is serving in the Japanese navy, but the children have not heard from him in a long time, so Seita and Setsuko try staying with a distant relative. However, Seita doesn't get along well with this relative and decides to leave, taking Setsuko with him, to live on their own.

This has to be the most depressing anime film ever made. That's because the theme of death, survival and desperation of two little kids in a fire-bombed war torn Tokyo is truly heart-wrenching and cathartic. What i like about this is that it's not melodramatic, sappy, Hollywood-like, or cheezy, but shows the will to survive despite the futility of it. One has to watch this with a full stomach and a pocketful of Kleenex.



Pazu, we're not flying anymore, are we?
4. Laputa, Castle in the Sky
Pazu rescues an unconscious girl descending from the night sky with a glowing pendant around her neck. He helps the girl, Sheeta, to escape from the air pirates and the military who are obsessed with Laputa, a legendary kingdom on a floating island in the sky with which Sheeta is suspected of being connected.

Unless you are a Spanish pervert, Laputa is not an obscene title but rather, one of the places in Jonathan Swift's novel, Gulliver's Travels. Laputa is the flying island of Gulliver's third journey. It officially translates to Lap, meaning high, and untah, meaning governor. After discovering the earflaps and communication problems of the Laputans, Gulliver desires to leave the flying island to discover the lands below. Laputa is held together by a strong lodestone located in the center of the island, and is the ruling island of all the lands below.



Let me show you how to do the Asereje, Uncle Mito.
5. Nausicaa
Nausicaä, the princess of a small nation, lives in a world devastated by a holocaust called the "Seven Days of Fire". She tries to stop other warring nations from destroying themselves and from destroying the only means by which their world can be saved from the spread of polluted wastelands.

In Homer's Odyssey, Nausicaa is the heroine daughter of Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians. While Odysseus sleeps (since the sea brought him to the island), the goddess Athena who favors & protects him, visits the young princess, Nausicaa. Athena, in the disguise of a young girl, tells Nausicaa to assist her maids in the washing of clothing the next morning. Nausicaa complies. While she and her companions are at the river, they engage in a game of ball, the noise of which rouses Odysseus from his slumber. All of the other girls are terrified by the sight of the hero - all except Nausicaa. Nausicaa demonstrates her bravery and offers Odysseus food and clothing. Ultimately, the beauty and charm of the princess represent another of the many temptations that Odysseus encounters on his long journey home.

Burn Baby Burn

The Oishi group of chichiriya has come up with their most unique potato chip flavor. And that is, Wasabi! Just the name makes my mouth water.


Woohoo! Wasabi! Ang anghang!!

As you place the chip on your tongue, you're going to feel a sudden rush of spiciness and malamang, wasabi flavor. You can feel your buds tighten up and your palate seared with the heat of the wasabi. Depending on the intensity, some highly seasoned chip's flavor can be very intense that it shots up to your sinuses. After which, it mellows down and your mouth begins to water. Perfect. Just like an orgasm! Psyche! Mmmm...

Away From the Maddening Crowd

Last Sunday was hell incarnate. After the wonderful mass in Malate, I dropped by Robinson's Place to check on new books from National, bargains at Booksale and new films from Astrovision. As soon as I entered the mall's cavernous maw, I was shocked to see the entire population of the Philippines crammed into just one space. I forgot! It was a three-day sale scheduled on a 15th of the month. Aaaargh!! The Mokongweis must be cackling in their beds dreaming of another killing (profit-wise, not kidnap-wise) to make.

The seething mass of humanity inside broke that law of nature which says "no two objects can occupy the same space at the same time." It was an elbow-to-elbow experience. Well, such occurences should not surprise us here anymore. We have become New Yorkers of sort- jaded and cynical.

So I walked to Booksale to check if they have some med reviewers (Geez, they really milk every peso from their already 2nd hand rejects) but unfortunately, there was none. I then decided to browse through their back issues to see if they have some good mags like Scientific American or Discovery but there were only the teen mags, cigar afficionado mags, food&wine and mags about Harly-Davidsons. I didn't know car magazines have a swimsuit issue. Ha-ha! Anyways, the crowd was really really thick. A claustrophobe's nightmare. I can smell the BO (like rancid butter) of a balding caucasian sex-tourist behind me perusing some Reader's Digests. I gave up. If I decide to stay just so I can read some of the pickings there (like those cool architectural coffee table books) for like an hour, then I have to go back some other time. That way, I don't have to stay in one corner like a trapped rat. Have to get out!

The Adriatico wing was like deja vu... hmmm... Schindler's List? Kind of. It was so surreal. The right corridor was filled with people going inside the mall while the left side was filled with people going to the exit door. Even if some stopped to look inside the bargain bins lined against the stores, it was still as if two parallel rivers of humanity tried to outspeed eachother. And with that, I went to the other river and decided to swim back to the entrance. Astrovision can wait another day. Perhaps if they turned off the aircon, then the so-called river will probably turn into a deluge- a deluge of sweat, grime and BO.

Feeling a bit nauseated by the fact that such density was impenetrable, I headed back home empty-handed and unsatisfied. Well, Mokongwei's leader, the great Mao Zedong, once said, "Take one step backward to advance two steps forward." For that, I call it a day.

La Lengua Española

During my Bacolod years, my grandma whom I shared the room with (yes, hers was air conditioned so 'twas better that I sleep in her room!) sometimes reprimand me when I tinker with her TV saying, "Nunca pahilabti ang TV basi mapierde ina karon!!" Any Ilonggo can understand that statement perfectly well which reads, "Don't even try to disturb the TV for it may "lose it's efficiency" later on." For us in the province, we were not acutely aware that our tongue was peppered with Spanish words or Hispanicized Ilonggo. We just took it for granted and assume it's vernacular Ilonggo.

Coming to Manila however made my senses more acute since I have to shift to Tagalog when speaking with people. (I hate code switching!!!) It seems that many words here are of Malayo-Austronesian in origin while the same counterparts in Ilonggo are usually Spanish loaned. For example, the word for "open/to open" in Tagalog is "bukas/buksan" while in Negros, it's the Spanish "abri/abrihan." Another is "meanwhile" wherein in Tagalog it's "habang" while in Ilonggo, it's "mientras (while) or mientras tanto (meanwhile)."

Some of them are as follows: [English- Tagalog(vernacular)- Ilonggo(vernacular)- Spanish]
1. Eyeglasses-Salamin-Antipara,Gapas-Antipara,Gafas
2. Gun-Baril-Pusil-Fusil
3. Teacher-Titser,Guro-Maestro,Maestra,Titser-Maestro,Maestra
4. Lose-Talo-Piyerde-Pierde
5. Cheap-Mura-Barato-Barato
6. Change-Sukli-Kambyo-Cambio
7. Dance-Sayaw-Bayle-Baile
8. Key-Susi-Liyabi-Llave
9. Clean-Malinis-Limpyo-Limpio
10. Until-Hanggang-Asta-Hasta

I don't know whether I should feel proud or happy or ashamed about having a more colonial tongue. It doesn't diminish though my love for the soil of my forefathers. Yeah right!! Soil, my ass!! I guess this matter is inconsequential and moot, not worthy of killing my remaining neurons. But it makes me wonder though. Is development or the dynamism of a language determined by the progress of its users? Has Ilonggo stagnated itself into the nostalgia of the past? I hope not. Tagalog seems to have more English incorporated into its vocabulary than any other Philippine language, probably due to the fact that it's the country's major port- an entrepot of global influx. Whatever. Basta, it's moot and academic. Urgh!

Oh well...that's it.... no more neurons to burn.

Amazing Race!

Wow. This reality show sure is fun!! Not only you get to see the Pyramids, Catherine's Palace in Russia, the Nile, Kilimanjaro, but you also see the pairs struggle their wits as they pass each challenge whether it may be physical (pulling a huge block of Pyramid stone 50 meters using no wheels), gastronomic (eating 1-kg of caviar in a hurry) or mental (block ice hockey pucks 5 times). The tests are ingenious and never boring and the contestants are really funny (with all their sarcasms, double-dealings and insults) but not to the point where you get irritated by them. This is so unlike Survivor where you were stucked in a never changing island full of whiny, lazy, spoiled inconsiderate ugly Americans who do not know how to cook decent rice doing nothing all day except scratch their folliculitis-infected bottoms and conspire to smilingly backstab their groupmates.

When you watch Amazing Race, you heart goes tachycardic (>100 bpm) and your skin become diaphoretic (sweaty) from watching the hurried & harried faces of the contestants who are all under time constraints. The visual & aural stimuli are tremendous, resulting with you wanting to watch more. Better than Survivor.

Update: They're on the way from Tanzania and going to Dubai, UAE next week. And the whiny cousins Mirna and Charla (people call her Shmirna) are thankfully eliminated. Note how loooong Mirna's hug with Phil! And Charla's speech made Phil Keoghan choke! hahahaha... ;P I pray that somewhere in Dubai, Colin & Christie will be ambushed by Taliban Ninja Fighters or something. And I pray that cool Chip & Kim wins this so amazing race!!! They have the class and the decency that no other team has. Isn't it ironic that it's the white pairs who are showing how ugly Americans are? Cheers!

Next Week: Colin goes to jail!!! Yahoo!!

A Midsummer Night Lullaby

A Midsummer Night Lullaby
by: Julsitos

Now rest your eyes, my dearest child,
lay upon your mother's breast,
and feel the warmth, so sweet and mild,
your peaceful face gently pressed.

Hush little one, the day is done,
for you are in my keeping.
The ills of yesterday now begone
its secrets now asleeping.

Can you hear the crickets playing,
hidden 'mong the grasses there?
Can you feel the wind whisp'ring
blowing through the midnight air?

And when you yawn, your face alights
without a care or worry.
To dream in splendid perfumed nights,
is paradise and glory.

In the darkness of midsummer
not a stirring, child and I,
for in sleep we sleep together,
and dream beneath a moonlit sky.

Eternal Blank in the Spotless Mind

Don't you just hate it if you have a writer's block? I mean, when your head is out of ideas to churn out or the words are lost in the air. There is some grain of truth to what "spiritualists" say about writing. They theorized that creativity (writing, painting, composing, etc.) comes from inspiration, and this inspiration is possible because our "spirit guides" or guardian angels send these signals or ideas for us work on.

I wonder if seasoned authors get such block. If they do, here are some of my take on their works:

Can you imagine J. K. Rowling of the Harry Potter series if one fateful day she was stricken by the bug? She might chuck it all up ala the painter Paul Gaugin and decide that she is getting tired of Potter that she instantly have him and Hermione elope for good. Well, if she wishes that Ron shall enter the fray, then they could have a menage-a-trois. If I were Rowling, I would suddenly have the wicked urge to end the saga in the middle chapter where Harry will have a heart attack and due to an earthquake, Hogwarts shall crumble down and kill everyone to smithereens. Yes, even incontinence-stricken Dumbledore dies because the dumb Dumbledore was on the act of changing his adult diapers in the lavatory. The Horror!

How about the Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown? Doesn't he get the writer's block from time to time? He might have been tempted to end the chase then and there at the villain's house but since he is so well into the novel, we get a hundred pages more to read. Wouldn't it be funny that instead of the couple finding all those clues in the Louvre, the sprinkler system kicked in and washed away those written messages leaving Langdon and his mate clueless as ever. Or what if the zealot monk decided to hijack the private jet and as a protest to Bush's War of Agression, he rammed the plane into Big Ben just like Sept. 11? Such would bring a smile!

So, after writing this rant, is my spotless mind still blank? Positively so!

Boogerama!

There was an article about a week ago wherein the government announced that the air in Manila is at par with world health standards. What tha? Have they gone that stupid from testing air quality here? To think they are "college" graduates"! I guess a degree does not gurantee intelligence, that's fer sure! There are only two conclusions to their disinformation: one, it's just the government's run-of-the-mill white propaganda (more like puro pampaganda) or two, their air quality gathering equipment is so decrepit and obsolete that any result coming from it is off-tangent. Probably, the air quality they were investigating were those of Mars or Jupiter. Most probably from Uranus! Geez. They think Filipinos are that dumb not to notice their celestial results.

If their quotations cannot be trusted, whose then? Simple. Our boogers!

Yes! Our booger, kulangot, pong-it, or snot is the best indicator of air pollution levels in Metro Manila. Not only it is free and easy to get, it's natural!!

How? Just at the end of day, pick your nose and collect a sample of your daily remnants. Then, rub it in between your fingers until you get a nice homogenous consistency in which you then compare it with a corresponding color chart that shows the present pollutants in the atmosphere. Easy, no? It's better than to trust some ambigious result doctored by the DENR. =)

Collateral Headache

Louie, Enna (both batchmates & interns at Manila Doctors) and I watched Collateral at Robinson's Place Manila yesternight. I just settled for White Cheddar popcorn and Ice tea from Tater's to make my viewing pleasure more palatable.

Watch out! Random spoilers ahead!

For a complete synopsis, check out this site:
Collateral from themoviebox.net

To make the whole gamut short, the movie was too fast and furious. Tom Cruise's timely end was anti-climatic but there were good chase-and-run scenes in the end. The premise as the assassin is satisfactory but the premise on why he's killing those people is at most, murky. His acting was Hollywood-like as always, with posing-posing, pregnant pauses and cowboy dialogues, but he managed to pull everything off in his favor. But I have to praise Jamie Foxx (Max) who played the cab driver to was coerced into servicing Vincent in his game of "sutukil" (shoot-to-kill). Max's acting was brilliant- the way he was panic-stricken by all the lightning speed events happening around him and his change of character from the optimistic coward to the fatalistic hero. His emotions were neither melodramatic nor exaggerated but were on the other hand, befitting for someone in the edge of being shot, not to mention that his complicity to Vincent's job made him a "black" accessory to the crime. I simply enjoyed the look on the driver's face when he was told by Vincent to retrieve the list of victims from Felix. His face became white from fear. Hahahaha.

Collateral, while a good cat-&-dog film, gave me migraine. I don't know if it was from the popcorn or from the drink, but I'm sure all those exploding car chases, blair-witch carmera shots, and those endless running contributed to that throbbing feeling inside my head.

Soooo... I rate this movie: One thumb up!!! Yipee!! (Cuz the other thumb is on my cell's keypad texting!)

Angels & Demons of Malate

I just arrived from Malate Church. It's one of my favorite churches and attending their Sunday masses is sheer joy. More like inner joy.

The priests there are mostly Columbans who primarily are Irish. I find their presence very humbling (imagine leaving their homeland just to spend the rest of their lives here in the Philippines) and inspiring (for they're very active in community works.) Their experience in poverty-ridden Negros during the 1980s' "years of famine and insurgency" strengthened their faith and resolve in propagating the Catholic faith through example. This in turn, makes their words effective in touching the heart. They seem to be surrounded in an aura of holiness which is very effusive and infectious. Their sermons are conscience-hitting steeped in suffering and hope, love for the poor and the sick, and most of the time they talk about our obligations as Christ's children to our fellowmen and our duties to Christ himself. Their sermons are based on their experiences with the people of Negros, and not on lofty abstractions that only theologians can relate. What they have is heart and hearing their words can bring about the conversion of one's soul. (The question is: Is that change going to last as soon as you leave the Church?)

Because of their zeal and their holiness, the Columbans of Malate are highly respected and loved by their parishioners. A very good example can be seen right after the mass. It's only in their church where children, as young as 3 and as old as 30, approach the priest to make the "mano" sign. You can feel your heart being tugged as you watch the priest being delayed from leaving the aisle by hordes of people jostling each other so they can all make "mano." Such a sight is far from the hatred and animosity felt by Filipinos for the Spanish friars- but that's another story.

However, I am disappointed with some of the parishioners. Why? They leave at the middle of the mass. They prefer standing up and taking a bow right after the sermon or after eating the holy host. What on earth people think this is? A movie house? A play? A theater? Do they think this is not worth finishing at all? Do they think they can just leave without saying goodbye? It's as if you simply left the banquet table without letting the host know that you're leaving. I don't want to sound sanctimonious or oh-so pious but finishing the mass is the least you can do as a sign of respect for the faith and the religion you are affiliated with. If you really believe your faith can save you, then at least, give it the proper attention it deserves.

Sure, sure, there's that clause which says, we humans have the "freedom of choice." Well, freedom of choice indeed! Blah! Blah! Blah! Rationality sucks sometimes.

Oh well, just another Sunday blues.

Good Reads

Angels & Demons (Dan Brown, 2000): Hmmm... still on the first chapter. But nonetheless, it's as good and fast-paced as the The Da Vinci Code.

The Decameron (Giovanni Boccaccio, 14th Century): To think that Medieval Literature is boring, this should dispell any notions. Thanks to King Arthur, Chaucer, Thomas More, St. Augustine, etc., we tend to think of Medieval lore as painstakingly boring and full of old English yarn. We conjure ideas of princesses with pointed hats being rescued from dark castles by prince charming, or the Robin-hood like chivalry and cavalierism during those times. However, we must remember that the Black Death ravaged most of Europe during the Dark Ages. Not everyone is in the church praying and kneeling before the pews feeling pious. This classic shows the bawdy, humorous, satirical and farcical side of the Medieval Era. It's not about noble knights searching for the holy grail or battles fought for love (ala Romeo & Juliet) or philosophical monarchs going murderously mad (ala Hamlet & Macbeth), but rather it's the daily activities of the common people of Italy. I have to admit, most of the population then were poor. Most of the time they eat, feast, get laid, blackmail, cheat, murder and get drunk... just like today. You agree, GWBush? I can see you nodding your head Erap.

After seeing Pasolini's The Decameron, I simply have to check if the film was faithful to the original manuscript. Well, mostly yes.

The blurb from Dover Publications:
"While the Black Death rages through 14th-century Florence, a group of young people retreat to the countryside and amuse themselves by telling tales of romance and adventure. This is the premise of Boccaccio's Decameron... Vast in scope, teeming with colorful characters, and rich in worldly wisdom. Folk tales, ancient myths, fables and anecdotes range from earthly and irreverent satires of hypocritical clergy, to gripping tales of murder and revenge, to stories of passionate love, both adulterous and faithful."

Some of the stories from The Decameron:
Ninth day, Story II: An abbess rises in haste and in the dark, with intent to surprise an accused nun abed with her lover, thinking to put on her veil, she puts on instead the breeches of a priest that she has with her: the nun, espying her headgear, and doing her to with thereof, is acquitted, and thenceforth finds it easier to forgather with her lover.

Third day, Story I: Masetto feigns to be dumb, and obtains a gardener's place at a convent of women, who with one accord make haste to lie with him.

First day, Story I: Ser Ciappelletto cheats a holy friar by false confession, and dies; and having lived a very sinful life, is, on his death, reputed a saint and called San Ciappelletto.

The Pirate's Lair

The hidden location of the pirate's lair. Just go into Arlegui Street.;

Hmmm... And so the plot thickens. This is one of the entry points to the infamous Quiapo DVD market. From the Quiapo church, you have to cross the underpass to the other side of the avenue. There, you can ask for directions or better yet just follow where most people are going. Here, Arlegui street poses as one of the less crowded access to the fabled stuff. Just go straight. Do not panic if you see a cop because as far as anyone with an IQ higher than 90 knows, they are frequently batting a blind eye to this seemingly illegal trade. I think their philosophy is that as long no one is hurt, killed, maimed or kidnapped, then everything's well.

Caution: Do not bring lots of cash, or credit cards for that matter. Do not show off your cellphone in public, or use it in the streets. Do not wear expensive watches or jewelry for they can become targets for street pickpockets. Do not wear formal clothes because Muslim merchants are wary of giving discounts to coños. Furthermore, do not make any snide remarks ala GWBush about Muslims because you won't get any discount that way. (I was about to write "you won't be able to escape Quiapo alive if you do insult them.")


Inside one of the many alleys in DVD country;

There are lots of places to start. And you have to be discriminating with your choice of DVDs. Just don't take it as it is because if something is wrong with it, it can be very difficult to return it back for exchange. There are rows and rows of DVDs and with luck, you can stumble on rare titles (like the works of Paolo Pasolini & Kurosawa), or better copies of unreleased films. The DVDs are stack on shelves upon shelves extending from the floor to the ceiling. When they say DVD copy, it means it was copied from the original, but when they say "Clear copy," it means it's not worth buying the disc yet.

My routine:
1. Check for the titles.
2. Check for scratches and defects on the shiny side of the DVD.
3. Have you choice be tested on their DVD player.
4. Haggle. Currently, it's P70 ($1.30) per disc. If bundled into three purchases, you can get them for P65 ($1.20) each.
5. Make sure they stamp/mark the DVD title insert, so if you return them, you can argue that it was from their store that you've bought the disk from because if not, they can play that Shylock argument that you "might have bought it from other stalls."


An otaku shopping for anime;

There are lots of films to choose from. Just remember to have the presence of mind on what to buy and a limited budget for your trip, so that you won't indulge on impulse buying. It's difficult to control oneself once you're there, especially if you have been afflicted with the shopping bug.

Many of the films being peddled in Quiapo are:
1. Unreleased Hollywood films
a. copied from a promotional disc
b. copied inside a theater
2. Released Hollywood films (copied from the original DVD)
3. Classics (Hitchcock, Kurosawa, war movies, etc.)
4. Arthouse films (infrequent, scarce supply, rare titles) ex. Criterion collection
5. Asian foreign films (Korean, Japanese)

Raids are frequent in Quiapo. However, if Edu and his cohorts have a scheduled raid, more or less, the sellers have already been tipped off and are extremely vigilant during that particular day. You can see them talking about the impending raid, having boxes readied, and their supplies are not 100% displayed. Besides, if a raid ensues, the news spreads like wildfire and within a span of five minutes, all of the shops are closed. Should you encounter one such raid, then simply head to the nearest convenience store and take cover.

So, be sure to send a postcard on your next trip to Quiapo.

Museum of No Return

Yesterday, I accompanied Dennis to the National Museum as a sidetrip in his ongoing vacation here in Manila. We rode the jeepney and went down at the old Congress building. We were surprised to see that the Museum was under renovation. The question is: for how long? We were informed that the exhibits are currently housed in the nearby Finance building. So, as intrepid tourists, we walked over to the new museum and we were surprised at the state of the National Museum, which should be the repository of our culture and heritage.

When you go there, please bring an ounce of sanity because the information desk is as daft as a lobotomized chicken. She smilingly informed us that there are no available brochures or maps as to how the exhibits go. She cannot elucidate if the Spoliarium is on exhibit. Don't the employees know what on earth they're displaying there. Any well-respected museum should have more foresight than that! If you go to the Hong Kong Museum, you'll be all agog and be swept away in the depth of their exhibits.



Look at all those plates!! 

So, we headed first for the San Diego Exhibit. Wow! It was worthy of praise. The exhibit was well made with the ship's planks laid on the floor; the cannons and shots all meticulously arranged. The nice thing is, it was informative and interactive- meaning, research was very thorough and the ojects (cannons) can be touched. And get this- there was no guard around. Unfortunately, there were a handful of visitors to the museum. This is to show how we appreciate our cultural heritage: by not going to the museums.

Then there were lesser exhibits like the evolution of the Philippines, the exhibit of the Filipino people showcasing indiginous crafts and antiques from the Ivatans, to the Tausugs, from the Igorots to the Mangyans. There were swords, krisses, baskets, handlooms, dresses, cooking pots, utensils, head gears, etc. For school children, this was a perfect place to start immersing them into Philippine history & culture, but for the avid collector & art afficionado, the place is bereft of anything interesting (except for the San Diego wreck). We were looking for Lunas, Amorsolos, Hidalgos and old Spanish gold and ivory. But due partly to the renovation, only the peripheral specimens were exhibited. I'm sure, though, that when the old Museum will be opened it will be a prime tourist attraction. But if they shall procastinate and delay the opening of the old one, then as far as I'm concerned, this will be the last time I will go (lest bring anyone) to this "replacement" museum.

Going Nuts over Donuts

MMM. The Pandora's box of goodies!


MMM... donuts. Seen here are the Peanut Butter frosts and Berry Full Stuffits

MMM.... what can I say? These donuts from Gonuts Donuts are really really delicious. They are like Krispy Kreme of the Philippines. "Insanely delicious" is what the product blurb tells us. The dough is soft and moist- similar to those no-bake brownies. There is no lemony taste or the sickeningly sweet sensation in the dough. It's not that sweet. And this delight is carried by the yummy taste of the glaze or the filling. The filling is really really good. For example, I love their peanut butter donut where the frosting if reheated tastes like real soft delectable peanut butter. So far that's my favorite, though some of the flavors like the Chocohazelnut and the Berryfill really stands out.

The line in Greenbelt3 is continuous and you can see all those donuts disappear before your eyes. I've heard that at the main branch at the Fort, you need to wait for 2 hours. The turnover is so fast that by the time you reach the counter to tell the cashier your orders, they sometimes will regretfully (but happily) inform you that your chosen flavor is already gone. It's ironic because it was only 10 minutes ago that you saw a whole tray of them.

And people cannot stop buying this stuff. It's as if the whole world turns on this donut alone. You can see families going to the movies, lovers strolling by, children waiting with boxes upon boxes of Gonuts Donuts. It's amazing to see hordes of people gorging and stuffing their faces with these donuts- and still keep a smile.

Is this just a fad? I don't think so. Compared to the price of a single donut from Dunkin or Mister Donut, the difference is a mere peso. It's very affordable, even if the product is coated in exclusivity. It's a status of good taste to have them. So rather waste your money on some mass-produced donut that you can't even finish a single one, sample and get addicted on Gonuts Donuts. I just can't help raving about this stuff. You'll never go wrong on this one!

***oh yeah, I was paid by Gonuts for the article. Psyche!

Greenhills: In the Belly of the Beast

In Thailand, there is an open market called Chatuchak. It is famed all over SEAsia and probably all over the world in which tourists, young and old, rich and poor, go there to purchase cheap knock-offs and overuns and to rub shoulders among the natives. It must be one exhilarating experience to enter and be devoured into the cavernous maw where your senses are frequently assaulted with exotic sweaty smells, colorful sights, raucous noise and the temptation to dive into the fray and haggle with the merchants. There your budget is on the red and if your common sense does not reign in your impulse, then your wallet can go bye bye sooner than you think.

An experience in Greenhills is probably as near the one in Chatuchak. The only difference is the air conditioning. I observed there that the place was set-up according to the merchandise. The atrium was filled with clothes of every kind- from sarongs to printed T-shirts, from pants to socks. The place was so jampacked that you have to squeeze yourself right through the crowd. I even stepped on the foot of one of the saleslady- that's what she got for wearing open-toed sandals. The mezzanine meanwhile is filled racks upon racks of cellphones of every brand and color. This is compounded by Muslim urchins prodding you to buy bootlegged DVDs harking "DBD, boss? DBD?" In another corner, there were countless stalls of cheap jewelry- most of which looked like plastic beads anyway. Most of the sellers are Muslims. I don't know why that is so though. In Virra Mall side, the whole place is full of CDs, pirated software of any kind, computer parts, and collectibles which can bring anyone with the shopping bug into virtual orgasm. Everything your imagination desires is here.

The whole place looked like a big termite colony. You can see flow and counterflow, traffic sans altercations and bumper to bumper congestion. A claustrophobe nightmare. The funny thing is that there were a number of foreigners haggling over bags and jackets, trying on rip-off Nikes, rummaging through the clothes and rubbing elbows with the Filipinos. It's as if they turned our shopping playground into another secret tourist destination. For adventurous "National Geographic" tourists and foreigners out for a bargain, then, this is the best place to be- all in one roof. Some even brought their children. Must be expats. Just imagine them being so sensitive to their travel advisories that they ignored it got enough spunk to go into Greenhills. To think there are Muslims in every stall and that there is a chance that a terrorist can blow up the place or hold them hostage. But like life in the fatalist Philippines, hell may come over basta we get to shop. The government should take notice about this sight, so they can be encouraged to put up more shopping areas emulating Thailand's premier entrepreneurial paradise- Chatuchak. If not, I hope the private sectors like travel agencies hopefully shall put the shopping experience of Greenhills on their brochures. If not, then we shall remain in the belly of the beast.