Amici di Estomago

Last tuesday, T and I bumped into an old friend from HS as we traversed the underpass along Paseo de Roxas in Makati. We thought it would be another duo food trip, but luckily, R. was there to liven up the dinner scene. We took a cab and headed towards this non-descript hole-in-a-school restaurant that people tout as Manila's best kept secret, the Amici di Don Bosco.

Amici is simple but people who go there do not mind the kitchy atmosphere and the canteen-like set-up because the main attraction there is the great authentic Italian pizzas and pastas and gelato. Most of its customers, we observed, are well-dressed moneyed citizens of Makati which is ironic because the place is located under the overpass along Arnaiz (Pasay) Avenue. I was expecting the SM food-court crowd but I was wrong, people really go out of their way just to order pizzas to go and gelatos for their hankering brood back home.

When we entered, T was ecstatic (read: jumping up and down)to see the varieties of gelato that she immediately dived into a chocolate scoop. I tried it and the I was blown away with the intensity of the flavor. It was rich, silky and soft, no ice bits clinging to the cream. I then chose mine Cheese flavor and the first scoop reminded me of the milky goodness of cheese with its sweet creamy texture spiked with tart pieces of cheddar cheese. Some might find it wierd to eat fromaggio gelato, but for me, this is the best- and no other ice cream brand can surpass Amici's in terms of quality and pricing. At P35 per scoop of quality gelato, who can resist? For those who have deeper pockets and only eat at Rockwell's Pazzo gelato, this is a great alternative.

We went back to our table and ordered our dinner. We decided on pasta. Not knowing what to get, we asked the cashier/clerk what are the recommended entrees. She ticked the Tagliatelle con Sici(something Sicilian), spaghetti ala don bosco and some other dish. We settled on the first one- home-made tagliatelle cooked in tomatoes, red wine, parmesan, and italian sausage. It was so satisfying that my tongue began to sing O sole mio, not! It was fantastic nevertheless. These are the pastas that are not found in commercialized knock-offs where their basic menu consists only of spaghetti bolognese and carbonara. Amici is the bomb! And the servings are good for two people. T barely finished hers, R was slow in his plate while I was feeling constricted after eating halfway.

We skipped on drinks, as usual, and settled on their fresh and priceless mineral water... yes, price-less meaning free. Because the place has that scholarly feel of being in a high school cafeteria, we were free to enjoy lounging about with nary a care towards our fellow foodlovers. Who cares about slouching in our seats and laughing to our hearts' content about high school faux pas? No ugly heads reared in our direction with their evil eye glaring at us. We had a great time catching up with old times.

After the meal, another round of gelato. T got some flavor which I forgot while I took away some cheese gelato. Just can't get enough. We egged R to try it but he passed saying he was too full to have a scoop of the cold delight. We stayed on for another 30 minutes before venturing out into the hell that is Manila. At least in Amici, the food will always be your friend, and that's their promise. And yes, with such food intake, I promised my porcelain bowl back home to meet another friend from Amici albeit in another form. Hah!

Other sites featuring this terrific discovery (w/ photos):
http://dessertcomesfirst.blogspot.com/2005/07/manilas-best-kept-italian-secret.html
http://www.tsinoy.com/blog/index.php?op=Default&Date=200502&blogId=31
http://anton.blogs.com/awesome/2005/07/amici_de_don_bo.html
http://justeats.blogspot.com/2005/08/amici.html

Molested By An Arab Donkey

No, it's not me. It's my friend R. She seemed to be a magnet for these sexually excited fellows everytime she ventures out at night. I'm not sure, but this time, it seemed serious enough that she pressed charges against this Arab donkey. (Sorry, that undesirable alien has no place in our country, and as such, he does not merit any respect from any Filipino- except from the refuse of society like those money-grubbing prostitutes in the throes of AIDS and naturally corrupt and lazy policemen who'll do anything to avoid doing anything.) There's one thing frustrating to see a foreigner abusing his way through Manila, and it's another to see your own fellowmen fawning over and accommodating this poor Arab-trash cum criminal.
This is his passport photo, so if you know him, please call GMA7 for a live interview.

Click on R's blog and read her harrowing experience of being molested by an Arab donkey (and how the stupid & corrupt police tried to cover it up):

R's Nightmare On Makati Avenue

Rizal on Penguin Classics

How cool can this be? Jose Rizal has now joined the pantheon of Classical author thanks to the Penguin Group of Publishers.

Jose Rizal's NOLI ME TANGERE

Elda Rotor, a Fil-American working at Penguin Books has this to say:

Monday June 19th is the birthday of Jose Rizal and I'm pleased to announce that NOLI ME TANGERE makes its debut as the first work of Filipino literature to be published in Penguin Classics. Harold Augenbraum, executive director of the National Book Foundation, wrote this new translation with an introduction and notes.

The book is available at the end of June. It is the 60th anniversary year of Penguin Classics, and I have just started as the new Executive Editor for the imprint. As a Filipino-American, I'm excited about this new publication and wanted to share it with all of you. Look out for the book, check out www.us.penguinclassics.com. Watch out for events in New York and San Francisco this summer and fall.

Personification of American Hegemony

Superman going around the globe from Manila to Italy to France saving people reeks of American Hegemony of global security. He is portrayed as the world's policeman, fireman, and one-man security force where everyone is beholden to him and utterly grateful to his Boy Scout acts. But still, it shows that an American Icon like Superman being on top of global affairs where he has influence over other sovereign nations makes me want to puke. Not only is he violating the air spaces of other countries, he is implying that other countries can't take care of themselves and are always in need of Superman.

Now, who the fuck asked Superman to save the world?
Who the fuck asked GWBush to save the planet?

These are the questions Superman must answer:
1. Why is he not classified as a Weapon of Mass Destruction?
2. Why did GWBush not tapped him in the Iraq-Afghanistan War?
3. May passport ba si Superman to go flying into other nations?
4. Why was Iraq or Palestine not mentioned in the areas where help is needed?

An Ubermenchen Review

We saw yesterday the brand new Superman movie at Glorietta 1. The place was packed to the gills with couples and families with restless children. Actually we sneaked into the adjacent cinema sans tickets because the first one was so jampacked and this was 10 minutes before the anointed schedule. So, like evil sneaks that we were, we changed cinemas and ended up with a couple of good positions in the center of the theatre.

The movie was good, the effects were superb, but Routh's acting was terrible to say the least. Strip him of everything that's heroic and you'll get an acting that's wooden and impassive. It was as if his entire face was injected with Botulinum toxin. Even Spacey's acting was disappointing for I was expecting more malevolence but all I saw was another Botulinum injected spiel. Bosworth was passable, wow, she has a large forehead, come to think of it. The only redeeming value of the movie was its deft atypical plot, the 21st century CGI effects and the heart-rending sound track. The music was fantastic, and really played to one's emotions. Acting aside, the whole flick was one hell of a ride!

Was the movie worth the P100 fee? Absolutely yes.
Is it good for repeat viewing? Damn yes.

Rating: 8/10

The Departure

The Departure

by: Julsitos

Let me kiss your cheeks one last time,
and feel the burning warmth of your shame,
for soon no one shall remember your crime,
the secret you bore in your name.

Let me embrace you one last time,
and forget the tears we shed before,
for soon none shall hear your song and rhyme,
when you're lying beneath the floor.

The Gasp

The Gasp

by: Julsitos

And I looked at her with awe and fear,
her lips, a gasping monotone,
for whether I love this creature here
is a conclusion now forgone.

SC Upholds "Live-In" Couples

I applaud at the Supreme Court's landmark decision to uphold "live-in" relationships depending on one's religion. With a vote of 9 pro-judges against 5 dissenters (with one abstaining), this reflects the high level of maturity of our Supreme Court system for it only upholds one's freedom of religion. It's only because our SC judges are wise enough to realize that a democracy like ours should never be retrofitted with narrow and baseless Christian mores. It should be "each unto his own beliefs" for one's marital practices may not apply to others. For instance, while Muslims are exempted from polygamy and concubinage, the rest will just have to tread Christian lines lest they want to go against the law. And what about Buddhists? Hindus? or Jehovah's Witnesses? Their beliefs cannot subserve to those of Catholics' but rather should be treated fairly and on a secular basis. I hope this will pave the way to more pro-choice decisions that will uphold man's basic and inalienable rights such as freedom of religion.

As as for SC Chief Justice Panganiban, shame on you for forcing your narrow Christian morals on others not of the same religion. Shame! But then again, that's why there was a need for a vote- so every decision will not be swayed by the opinion of one man.

The Taste of Youth

The famed foodblogger, MarketMan, has recently written in his website about the flavors of childhood. It is said that the foods enjoyed during our formative years carry itself the greatest memory. This is where your taste preferences were formed be it from your favorite ice cream flavor to your abhorrence to vegetables. Those tastes are carried well into adulthood, and each bite you take evokes the deep long memories that lay dormant inside the one’s brain just like a switch. While the connection between the faculty of language, memory and childhood has been scientifically studied, taste recall has not been well explored- and this is one field that might be of use to us in the future. For instance (this is just an anecdotal observation), children who were given vegetables during the early years will not be picky in their diet. Unfortunately, I was not one of those kids, so the foods that evoke deep passion within me are the sweets and those delicious junk foods. Well, too late to rewire, eh?

*steaming batchoy with 3 buttered toasts and cold coke with a straw, eating on the lanai looking afar to the lawn as the august rains poured…

*magnolia vanilla ice cream - i was forbidden to eat this brand of ice cream, but my grandma sneaks a pint into the fridge every now and then….

*butong-butong, kalamay-hati, hard caramel candies - my grandma usually buys them at the manug-libod (vendor) when she visits the downtown market

*inday-inday (palitaw with muscuvado dip), steaming pancit molo, pork bbq and rainbow-colored bread with cheese pimiento filling during childhood birthday parties…

*weird childhood food: toasted bread dunked in Coke!!! yum yum! Back then, i didn’t find it wierd. I do now.

Other junk foods...
*He-Man (orange colored cheeze puffs)
*She-Ra
*Enteng the Dragon (yellow-colored chicken-flavored puffs)
*Sunrise green peas snack (yung nakabalot sa foil)
*yema (those hard candies w/ yema centers w/ a toothpick *sticking on top & covered with pink cellophane)
*white rabbit candies
*CHIKININI!!! - forerunner of the boy bawang…
*camote-q being sold by vendors outside school…
*Bobot (a weird candy: peanuts coated in an M&M-like shell)
*Rin-bee? yung cheese stick snacks… meron pa ba nun?
*fishballs that cost P0.15 each!
*Ice Scramble (gee, what was I eating back then?!)

Never Never Lend

Nowadays, there's one pet peeve that irks me more than anything else and that is retrieving books from my friends. It's a hassle, that's why. And it should not be my obligation in the first place.

I usually let some of my friends borrow a volume or two from my collection in the hope of widening their reading preference. Encouraging your friends to read books for the sheer pleasure of it is a rewarding experience. It makes me feel somewhat accomplished. But what I hate is that 1) it takes months for them to finish a single one, and 2) they don't read it at all. Filipinos generally dislike asking people to return things, that's why it's just logical and prudent for the borrowers to return it as soon as they have finished it. But no, here, people just chuck the tomes into their shelves and forget about it and you, the owner, wait and wait for its "second coming". It's a paradox but it's reality.

What's more irritating is when you've follow-upped your friend to return it, that person delays the transaction for reasons ranging from non-reply to the Bermuda Triangle phenomenon. It's not funny and I feel they're taking my book hostage. That person would say, "Oh, I haven't finished reading it. I'm still at the first chapter." And I thought, "For three months now?" During that time, I just wished that the book will run away from that person's room and head back to my shelf where it belongs. It just shows how indifferent and disinterested these people are in reading your book. I think it's only right that if such a person cannot sustain his/her interest in finishing it, the only recourse is to return the damn book read or unread. Sad to say, in this ningas cogon country of ours, it does not happen.

Here's some solutions whenever your friends start forgetting what they've borrowed:
1. Text/Call them every week asking them if they've finished the book.
2. Remind them that your third cousin twice removed wants to borrow it.
3. Tell them that a lot of people finished it in one to two sittings, and that it's a shock for you to see that they can't do the same.
4. Inform them that a lot of readers' lives were changed after finishing the volume, and you'll help them change their lives if they don't finish it.

How to stop your friend from kidnapping your books:
1. NEVER LEND a single one. Too late for me to realize it.
2. Only lend those ratty editions that you're trying to dispose.
3. Lend them only the titles that you don't want to see again.
4. If you still let them borrow, ask them when can you expect it to be returned.
5. Lock your books in your fire-proof cabinet or bookshelf.

But the best answer is still: NO! Nein! Nunca! Non! Nyet!
Oh... that reminds me, I need to text my friend to remind her to return my Kite Runner.

Da Vinci Mode

The SM chain of malls is standing by their conviction of not showing Brown's Da Vinci Code movie in all of its outlets. They say, all R-18 movies (regardless of the merits of the film) will not be shown because it will "harm" the minds of the movie-going public on the basis of immorality and all those pharisaical inanities. From a businessman's point of view, this is not a very good strategy. Why? A highly anticipated movie since Harry Potter 5 + religious controversy + popularity of the novel = Box Office Hit.

Any self-respecting entrepreneur would milk Robert Langdon for all its worth just to spike up his/her flagging movie sales. But I guess the Sy's are more Pontius Pilate than St. Paul for they would rather show the world that their movie houses are "hands clean" from any vulgar immorality than to let the public decide for themselves as to what's good for them. Isn't that already the job of the stupid MTRCB- to play God with their "moralistic" index of forbidden movies criteria? It's a pity that for a thriller without any nudity or violence, it still garnered a severe rating of R-18 (the severest in the world.) I didn't realized that a movie which explores the origins of our Christian roots would be deemed as unsuitable for viewers under 18! This reeks quasi-censorship, is it not? However, in fairness to MTRCB chair Marissa Laguardia, she is right in saying:

"Those groups, like the conservatives who want it banned, maybe they can tell
their friends, discourage their friends from watching it but it has to be shown.
Otherwise we will be the only country that will not show this film. Thirty-six
countries have already reviewed this film and they have not banned it. So are we
just out of the Stone Age?"

Yes, we're more advanced than the Stone Age, because we're definitely in the Medieval Age.

They felt the film would "confuse" the faith of many. Hey, if your faith is like the mustard seed that remains small and undeveloped (thanks to your parents and the church), then, it's not Dan Brown's fault is it? If you change your mind about Catholicism after watching Sophie Langdon, then there's no one to blame but yourself.

Why? If you're really concerned with your faith and salvation, then you'll try to seek answers from definitive sources, mainly the Church and common sense. The Church says that it's fictional and trivial. Common sense will tell you that by having facts derived from Merovingian legends and concepts contrived by conspiracist theorists, the novel is not a reliable source for straying away from the faith. Yes, it does asks questions, but no one yet (not even the book) has provided sufficient and credible answers- just mere speculations and suppositions. The Church did not address the origins of its Gospels or the persecution of Mary Magdalene, and the "Grail" theorists did not put up credible documentary evidence supporting the "sacred female" something-something. It's akin in saying that the Egyptian pyramids and the Mayan pyramids were built by the same group of aliens. It's the same as saying that hidden religious meanings in Da Vinci's painting are connected to some pagan ritual of the Heiros Gamos. Connect the invisible dots, I tell you. But what's funnier is that there are real groups of people trying to stop the showing of the movie. Geez. They're just a bunch of Bible-toting, holier-than-thou, pseudo-virginal, sexually-deprived sleazebags who try to bring attention to their miserable existence. I say to them: Get a life. As to Dan Brown, close but no cigar.

The Best Da Vinci Code Review: http://www.bettybowers.com/davinci.html

Eulogy

Eulogy*
by Julsitos

Now I realized your footsteps gone
the unbearable silence of your absence felt,
the bed turned cold, my grief untold
as I see the end of your journey done.
How long in despair have I dwelt?

But you're free, free at last
to sleep in the embraces of the Lord,
His love shall comfort you
our love nourished you,
the thorns that pricked you now in its past
for this day you have earned your reward.

From your love, we shall never forget
we cherish and yearn for more than this
for our joys and tears, our hopes and fears
not once did we regret
for the love we shared, eternal bliss.

*delivered during the burial mass last Mother's day.

Grief

Grief
by Julsitos

Grieve not for the love that has departed
for theirs are with the Lord,
where love is never thwarted,
neither sullied nor distorted,
basking in the summer of their reward.

Grieve your tears for those who are left behind
for they remain on this earth
to feel the loss from time unkind,
with tears flow from memories pined,
hearing now the abscence of mirth.

Free

Free*
by Julsitos

At last you're free,
smile for the day is done,
where rest shall be your friend
with your journey at an end
the shackles of your heart now gone.

At last you're free,
free from the peering eyes of hate,
where the blossoms caress you
and the wind shall cleanse you
the smear that sullied you of late.

At last you're free
to think of lighter things
beneath the bluest sky
passed the clouds on high
where the joy of our Lord abundantly springs.

At last you're free
your eyes closed, you face at ease
with neither sadness nor pain
just sleep and sleep again
for where there's rest, eternal peace.

*poem for my mom who died April 25, 2006. painting by www.duyhuynh.com

SAKSI!

Thanks to US-published manga artist Jennyson Rosero, this clip shows how NOT to do a field report. Funny as it is, it doesn't bode well for the state of journalistic professionalism here in the Philippines. Because GMA (and ABS-CBN) focuses more on human drama and sensationalism, it reaps the fruits of ill-researched and subjective field reporting. Nonetheless, enjoy.

Myleene Klass

This Fil-Brit sensation is the toast of the Classical world in 2005. Although she is more known for her gigs in the British pop arena, classically-trained Myleene Klass branched out into the more refined and rigid classical genre. Based in the UK, this Avril Lavigne lookalike has earned a cult following for her exotic Eurasian look and her virtuosity with classical piano. I think she has even grazed the pages of British FHM. If Maxim is the male version, Myleene is the female counterpart. She has recorded her first album, "Moving On" which has gone gold and was nominated for an award in the UK classical scene. I have yet to hear her Moving On album, but suffice to say that her MTV in Classic fM TV looks stunning. Why don't we have a classical channel here????

Be blown away with her classical MTV as she play Bach's Toccata & Fugue (a short variation actually):
http://www.myleeneklass.co.uk/
http://www.myleeneofficial.co.uk/


At least now, we can have another half-Pinoy to be proud of. Yihee!

On Cutting In

A couple of days ago, I went to Handyman to get my dog some cheap dogfood. (Yeah, I know- dogfood in Handyman!) Since it was about 5 kg. heavy and the pushcarts were there for use, I placed the load in and went straight to the counter. There were about two customers lining up and it was taking the cashier forever to scan the prices. She must have forgotten the seminar on how to scan barcoded goods. In about five minutes of "happily" waiting for her to finish, a middle-age grey-shirted woman tried to cut in in front of me. Just because I give ample space between my cart and the next person doesn't mean it's her cue to cut in front of me. What I did next will surely light the torches of Abanse Pinay! (this women's lib group): I pushed my cart forward, thus, preventing her from sneaking her fat butt in!

Hey, I don't think it's misogynistic to assert your rightful place, is it? I waited in line, so I felt I deserve to be entertained first. It is logical albeit selfish. If I was not selfish, who will then look after me? No one. And besides, giving space for others, though altruisitic it may be, will not earn you brownie points in heaven. You can't say to St. Peter, "Though I murdered my entire family and spawned dozens of bastards during my lifetime, I made sure I gave up my seat to every beautiful lady I encounter." St. Peter will surely say, "Sorry, acts of pakitang-tao are not considered acts of charity. Try again!"

If I had let that woman cut-in in front, what good does it do to me? I don't think a warm fuzzy feeling of being a willing accomplice in aiding an injustice would suffice. Will I get that girl's number? No. Will I get a simple "thank you?" No. (She didn't ask in the first place.) Well, if she did ask nicely, I'd be rude not to let her in. So, if doing such an act cannot benefit the doer, then why bother doing it? Besides, she's fit as a cow to wait a few minutes more.

I realized that this can blow into a vitriolic discussion between chivalry vs. equal rights. I can hear hapless ladies yell, "How dare you, you arrogant prick to prevent us from using our charms to get our way!" Hahaha! All I can say is: "first come, first serve- unless you're in an emergency." And besides, it would seem unfair also for the rest of the customers who are waiting patiently behind me. By cutting in, you're being inconsiderate to others' time and patience. By cutting in, you are being self-serving and selfish and I hope you rot in hell.

The only persons I will give up my seat/place in line:
1. Old people
2. The Disabled
3. Pregnant women
4. Mothers with hellspawn children
5. Ladies with heavy bags
6. My family and friends

As for the rest, I can strongly suggest to use those two legs that God has given them. Else, they can whack them off and ride on a wheelchair, then, they can have my place.

DIE Haloscan DIE!!

A year ago, Haloscan.com was a promising entity that provides bloggers with free management of one's comment's space. But I've realized that all those musings by vistors and friends were entirely erased at a certain time- I don't know why but I find it frustrating to see that the effort of those who passed by has disappeared.

An apology from them won't make up for all the words of encouragement and intelligent quips I have learned to enjoy reading throughout the past months. Don't they know that half the fun of blogging is to see people rattled in their seats that they are compelled to comment? I realized that perhaps its a bit of an ego trip, but hey, it's part of the ride. Because I don't choose or restrict my blog topics, nor tailor them to the prudency of the masses, my writings then are not pressured to conform. Thus, it's nice to read people dropping by like friends visiting a house while commenting on your latest diatribe. That's why it's infuriating for me and insulting on the part of the commentors that this has happened.

I needed to cut my losses hence I reverted back my comment page to good reliable Blogspot.
*Sigh. Life. And by the way Haloscan, if you are reading this, I curse your money-grubbing NASDAQ-delisted company and I hope your stupid main office be burned to the ground due to electrical causes. I curse your President, may he be killed by AIDS while having sex with his dog. I curse your staff and personnel, may they get pustular boils on their nipples, varicose veins on their noses and Grade III internal hemorrhoids for the rest of their miserable whiny whiny stupid drop-out American white-assed lives. DIE!!!

Muesli on the Beach

This Holy Week, the whole Manila dung heap population will undergo a mass exodus to the provinces. The only objective of this unholy affair is to soak up the sun, splash in the turquoise waves and to voluntarily get skin cancer. That is what the Holy Motherly Church has been trying to tell our melanocytes: Go forth and multiply! Exchange your Small Cell Lung cancer for Squamous cell carcinoma! So, instead of kneeling in front of marble saints and reflecting on the Gospel of Judas, the Da Vinci Code and the Passion of the Christ, Manileños all go to Boracay, Cebu, Hundred Islands, Baguio and Mindoro to have fun, booze and party. I'm not sure Good Friday at Friday's in Boracay means singing the Pasyon, but I'm sure the scene is similar to a bad taping of Temptation Island.

Speaking of Boracay which is the epitome of an expat-packed beach, I can't help but wonder how people stomach non-native foods at such a locale. The beach itself is isolated from any urban center and getting to the island is not easy save for the rinky-dinky airport to bring in the goods. Thus, having Foccacia with Balsamic Vinegar and Olive oil under a Bahay-kubo or eating Pecan & Walnut Muesli in your two-piece or speedos is not only paradoxical and anachronistic but also surreal. I'd expect native Filipino foods like Inasal, Sinugba, Halo-halo, Sinigang, Pork BBQ, etc at the beach, but unfortunately due to international demand, this is not so. Expatriate culinary expertise and coño Manileños with the grungy backpackers make such a supply-and-demand situation possible, and these people just lap it up! If it's a matter of economics, then there's no quib about it, but if you look at it from a cultural standpoint, it's quite insulting on our part.

Why?

1. Though experts imply that having international cuisine on Boracay is a showcase of the "love" foreigners have for the island or of the vibrancy of the place, the argument also suggests how these foreign carpetbaggers cannot assimilate to Filipino cuisine. This is different with a Pinoy expat serving adobo and pinakbet in his LA turo-turo house. With Pinoys, we cater our soulfood to fellow Kababayan because we know there's a sizable Filipino population within the vicinity, and such a business is logical. But have you seen a Boracay Brit or Greek serving Filipino cuisine in their establishments? No, they would rather serve haggis, bangers & mash, and gyros than our liempo or lumpia. And it's not even fusion cuisine. They cook it just the way they do it at home. For whom? For the handful of their expat compatriots? Yes; them and everyone else.

As for us Pinoys, we lap it up because having muesli for breakfast or penne arrabiata for dinner is as exotic as the island itself. You won't find it in your corner-street in Manila. I bet you'd rather have bulgogi than bulalo, or eggplant parmigiana than tortang talong anytime you're in Boracay- all because you're on vacation. V-a-c-a-t-i-o-n. And if I was there, I'd do it to. We don't feast on it in Manila, so finding it cheap in Boracay and at such array is a unique experience. You can have a French breakfast, Greek lunch and Korean dinner every night. For some, it's more unique to have a lassi drink than a mango shake. Truly, it's more of an "experience" than your usual Pinoy fare. But that's a case-to-case basis. I like Japanese cuisine, but I'd rather eat it in a Japanese restaurant in Manila than in a pseudo-Bali Hai open beach restaurant where the decors are from Kalibo and the wasabi flown in from Tokyo. But some will digress.

The pointless point here is this: Why dish out foreign cuisine when your ingredients cannot be sourced easily? Why do foreigners eat the same food they make at home, when the purpose of a vacation is to get away from it all? It's like a Filipino who went to Paris and ended up eating adobo and sinigang by the Seine. Why cook it for a population that's over two-thirds local tourists? Pasalamat na lang sila na sanay ang lasang Pinoy sa foreign dishes like bratwurst (mmm tastes like Swift hotdog), meusli (mmm tastes like pinipig), crepes (mmm tastes like lumpia wrapper), vichyssoise (mmm tastes like Knorr sopas), or sashimi (mmm tastes hilaw!)

2. Many tourists are not interested in our culinary culture. They try some native dishes for a night or sample the local drinks for the "experience", but after the novelty wears off, their tongue forces them to revert back to their home cuisine. That is why you'll see hordes of grungy unwashed backpackers wolfing down waffles during the day and Korean lemmings gorging on kimchi (a winter dish) in the middle of summer. Whatever makes them happy (and open their wallets) is fine by me. As long they're spending their budget on the local economy, expat and otherwise, it's as good as them eating our native dishes. I just hope our food is the main come-on, and not their home cuisine. If you compare this to Kho Phi Phi in Thailand, many of the restaurants there serve Thai cuisine with a few continental dishes interspered in their menu. It's a rarity to see an establishment there solely selling Greek, British or Korean cuisine. That's to show how respected their foods are, so much so that foreigners just shut up and eat Pad Thai rather than whine about the lack of Blueberry waffles. Here, we prostitute ourselves too much and everyone's oblivious to it.

Our restaurant is famous for its delicious food of original salads, succulent
paninis, oversized sandwiches, crusty pizza, creamy risotto, famous pastas,
day-fresh seafood and tender and tasty steaks. This season, our Chef is cooking some original food specials: Fresh Goose Liver (Foie Gras), Duck Breast (Magret de Canard), Ostrich Steak, Lamb Shank, Sea Bass and Chicken roulade.

-Blurb from Friday's Boracay Website

Ahhhh..... I rest my case. Oy waiter! I'll have some foie gras and champagne to go with my sinigang!

Personified

Personified*
by: Julsitos

He was light personified,
He was truth personified,
He was faith personified,
He was peace personified,
He was compassion personified,
He was forgiveness personified
He was suffering personified,
He was dignity personified,
He was love personified,
For Christ is love,
He is,
Thus,
Christ personified.

* A Tribute the 1st year Death Anniversary of Pope John Paul the Great.

Bibliositis

While my sister and mother always tell me that they feel the urge to defecate once they enter a bookstore, I on the other hand want to take up residence inside. One, bookstores are a veritable trove of literary treasures waiting to be rediscovered and most of these have bargain bins where you can find a rare gem. And for those who have the mongoose instinct of digging up things, looking under a mountain of discounted volumes is a strong motivation. However, some people's pleasurable obsession for hunting books can transform into what I'll call "Bibliositis."

Bibliositis is the inflammation of the satiety center in one's hypothalamus and symptoms are characterized by a sudden onset of manic euphoria, tachycardia (rising heatbeat), salivation and phalangeal tremors, all precipitated by the sight of bargain books and aggravated by more bins of discounted books. This is followed by book-induced nystagmus, the disappearance of any self-control, and loss of temporal consciousness. Depending on the susceptibility of the patient, the inflammation usually ends with gradual depression after paying for the books, and chest tightness if he/she sees that the book is a dud.

This psychosomatic disorder is prevalent among high-school and college graduates, more in females than in males, and seen among bloggers and pop culture reviewers. Personal history includes personal libraries in patient's homes. Family history includes other family members afflicted with Bibliositis.

Currently, there is no definitive cure for Bibliositis. Only constant observation and counselling are recommended at this stage. Electric shock therapy is presently being researched as a Bibliositic cure at the National Institure for Mental Health, but so far, test subjects have only shown to exhibit adverse reactions like coprolalia and dyslexia. The Philippine Medical Association is appealing to Book Sale and Powerbooks to put up warning signs on their shop's entrances and on their cashiers, but they have yet to receive the shop's formal response.

This lifestyle disease has struck several bloggers as of late like Jessica Zafra in her latest entry, blogsite of Gigi Goes Gaga, and even John Nery, an editor of Philippine Daily Inquirer.

The question is: Do you have Bibliositis??

Literary News:
1. Powerbooks is having a warehouse sale on March 16-April 1, 2006; 10am to 7pm at # 25 Brixton st. Capitol Subdivision, Pasig City. If you are coming from Shaw blvd., take a left turn to Reliance st. then turn right to Brixton st. (it's the street parallel left to Pioneer st.). there is a BIG Powerbooks signage at the gate. More bargain books, bigger discounts!

2. Find of the Year:



Penguin's "Red Classics" offers a fairly good range of old and modern classics at a reasonable price. While these are being sold in the UK at its original price, here in Manila you can avail of a copy at Powerbooks for 60% off the calculated price and 20% more if you buy it during weekend sales. If you'll compare them with other editions of the same title, more often than not you will be surprised at how expensive others are. For example, Penguin's "Bridge of San Luis Rey" costs only P220 ($4.40) on regular days and P180 ($3.60) during sales. That against Perennial Classics edition which costs more than P800 ($16), it's still a steal. But if you can find one under BookSale's jungle of used books, then so much the better.

Only In Bacolod 1

In one of the netforums, my debate on the my beloved hometown Bacolod went like this:

Isn't it awkward when you enter a restaurant all heads turn to you because everyone's brains are scanning their who's who registry as to who this person is? And when someone recognizes you, you go to their table and do the aristorcratic routine of exchanging pleasantries. "Uuuyy.. amiga, maniaga ka di? Sino upod mo??" Beso. Beso. or "Migs! Kaon ka upod sa amon!" That's why it's acutely embarrassing to eat alone in Bacolod cuz people around you are speculating what's wrong with you.

Isn't it funny that even with the nice sidewalks and near accessibility of everything in Bacolod, people still prefer to ride their cars or the jeepneys? It's as if people are embarrassed to be seen walking down North Drive or Lacson. Perhaps we're afraid that a car will stop by, its windows drawn down wherby your classmate will say, "Nagalakat ka haw? Waay salakyan? Upod ka na lang!" Sige nga, tell me if you have strolled the sidewalks of uptown Bacolod! (nevermind downtown)

There's no argument about the cleanliness and the infrastructures of Bacolod. These are static features, unlike Bacolenos who can either be a blessing or a curse. We're like a two-sided coin that if you attend our aristocratic soirees and inumans, then you'll be on our good graces, but if you've made a huge scandal or social faux pas, you'll have to expect the full brunt of humiliation. Not true? Well, tell that to the rich girl who was in Bacolod scandal where everywhere she went, she can hear people murmuring "Namit gid!" (her line in the sex scandal) Do I need to say more?

Then, some of the comments that followed were: (names altered)

C: hahaha...i find it very true...especially that beso-beso thing in a restaurant...

D: I eat out at least once a day and most times I eat alone either at Bob's, Pendy's, or some other restaurant. I don't mind eating out and I don't mind if they look at me for a minute. It all depends on you, whether you will allow other people to get to you. I also walked a lot to and from school. In fact, I'd rather walk if my car is being fixed than take a jeepney. I don't mind walking. It doesn't mean I'm any less than anyone else. And I'm not aware of people stopping to say condescending things. In fact I don't find anything wrong with "Nagalakat ka haw? Waay salakyan? Upod ka na lang!". In fact I do stop in the proper manner if I find a classmate on the street - except for smokers that is - because I would rather share my ride with them. I think it is indeed a good thing for people to be mindful of how everybody else is behaving just so that everybody would behave well. In fact I find Bacolenos to be better behaved than the rest of the country. The only Bacolenos that complain of Bacolod's "small town mentality" are those who have committed a "social faux pas". Bacolod is indeed a competitive society - which is good for keeping everybody in their proper and best behaviour. As for that lady, it was her fault in the first place.

The reason why I have a hard time finding Filipino friends where I'm at because most of the Tagalogs here are so ill-mannered. Last Christmas, I invited some of my colleagues to a Christmas presentation at church and I found their behaviour very, very, very, embarrassing. One grabbed a British kid just so he could have a picture taken with Westerners... he could have simply asked in a nice way and I'm sure the kid would have agreed. The other started asking a South African how much his salary was...another sign of ill-breeding. Still another brought home some church property as a souvenir.

C: I think (the author) only wants to point out how the "lower-class" would think about the "snobbish", the "elegance", the "fine" manners and attitude of bacolod's high society...

D: I don't think it is the lower class that would be complaining of the "small town mentality" of Bacolod. I think, that those who had been behaving badly are the ones who are complaining about the "gossipy titas" and hypocrisy that they think pervades Bacolod's society. I only know of two people who are complaining about this - also because of their own fault. One grew up in Manila and behaved differently - earning the ire of close relatives. The other, dated too many women that people started talking about him. My lower midddle class friends have no complaints as they have a different set of friends. But even then, because they do have a few upper class friends, they have learned to behave properly.

So I said:

I'm not arguing about the social ignorance of other Filipinos. I can't comment on the upbringing of Tagalogs or Cebuanos, but I'm sure they're raised in the best and decent way possible. Most Bacolenos are indeed well versed in the "oro plata mata" style of delikadesa and propriety. Kiss your tita-tits, I tell you! The lower middle class cannot break into the social glass ceiling imposed by the rich, that's why they don't have hang-ups with the everyones who's who registry, family trees, and social faux pas. For instance:

Rich boy: (Castilian accent) Mama! I'm going out with some friends to a party tonight at Bar21.
Rich mother: (Bastardized Basque accent) Really hijo? Who are you going with?
Rich boy: Ah, with my classmates Carlo and Paolo.
Rich mother: Do I know them hijo?
Rich boy: Umm... I think so. Carlo is the only son of Agustino Valdezayco and his mom is Felicita, you know the consultant at PNB.
Rich mother: Ah yes hijo! Now I know. She's the cousin of my good amiga, Meredith Gastolacson. I should invite her to play mahjong soon. How about Paolo? Who's child is he?
Rich boy: He's the son of Mr. and Mrs. Taculing.
Rich mother: (blank stare for 10 seconds) ahhh... really now. His dad works where?
Rich boy: His dad is a college professor at LCC, architecture I think. His mom works in city hall.
Rich mother: (another 10 seconds of stupefid look) ahhhh.... I see. Well then, don't be late, hijo. Oh, don't forget you have an afternoon flight tomorrow to Brussels for your CISV trip!

"The other, dated too many women that people started talking about him." I'm sure the whole city too.

As to your wonderful hypothesis that only those who have incurred social debts and faux pas are the ones who complain, don't you also mean that those bacolodnons who are regulars in Bar21, North and other watering holes of the la buena familias who always burn their elbows from partying don't have any problems at all? I'm sure the comments they hear are: "How's your papa, hijo? Has your tita soledad arrived from Europe?" or "Pre, kadto ta sa punong ni tito Z, may clan reunion!" ( Pare, let's go to the prawnfarm of uncle Z cuz we have a clan reunion!") and never "Ay! Ara ang bata ni X. Amo na sya ang nagso-and-so kay Y. Merece!!" (Oh! There's the child of X. He's the one who did kwan to Y. He deserves it!)

For instance:
Two amigas eating in Bob's Restaurant...
Amiga 1: (whispering) Huy Soling! Look who just came in! (Lips pursed while pointing to the direction of the door)
Amiga 2: (whispering) OMG. It's Diego! He must have snucked in from LA. No one told me that he'll be arriving today.
Amiga 1: Me neither. ... (Blanching!) Look! He saw us! He's coming this way!
Amiga 2: Ok. Let me handle this.
Diego: Oh, hello tita Carmen. Tita Soling. It has been a while since I've seen you two. I just arrived in Bacolod. (Beso-beso)
Amiga 2: (fanning herself) Oh! ha-ha-ha Diego. Nice to see you again. How's things in LA?
Diego: Oh it was fine. My skin treatment in LA went well. Dad knew of a specialist who deals with this, and he's great. Anyway, twas nice to see you both in good health. I'll leave you two, I'll just say hi to my cousins at the other booth.
Amiga 2: Ok hijo. Oh, do come and visit us this Friday. Bring your cousin Pilar too. I have something to give her then. (Diego sauntered off to the other booth)
Amiga 1: (whispering harshly) OMG! His skin, his albino skin hasn't improved a bit. It's a pity that with all his pork-gotten money Cong. Monivilla wasn't able to cure it here and had to send him to LA.
Amiga 2: Hmmph! (fan closed abruptly.) Let me tell you something. Ruel (Monivilla) sent that boy to LA not to have a skin treatment, but because he discovered the boy had an affair with their driver! (triumphant look)
Amiga 1: (shocked look) Dios de mi alma! Are the rumors true that Diego prefers the other side then?
Amiga 2: My lips are sealed amiga. You think what you want to think. If my husband was in politics though, I'll make sure to keep any dirt as far away as possible. C'mon, let's get the chit and go to Melinda's house. She'll get a kick when she finds out who we saw at Bob's!
Amiga 1: Oh yes! I'll call call Lourdes too. At least there's something fun going on in Bacolod other than to hear about utangs ni X or querida ni Y.

As they would say, "Familiarity breeds contempt" and with Bacolenos penchant to be familiar with everybody's affairs, we are indeed a contemptible lot. My point is this: Bacolod is such a small town that everyone's family tree (bastard or not) is known, every utang is exposed, every ugliness is noticed and every mistake is amplified through the social grape vine. It's insidious and embarrassing. What your tita-tits tell in front of you may not be the one she tells to her amigas. It may not apply to you but I have seen during my stay some people being talked about because of their mistakes right in the middle of Bob's or Calea. Then, how can one redeem his-/herself in this society? As for the girl in the sex scandal, she did what she thought was best for her: to ditch Bacolod for Manila. Good for her!

Sometimes, I feel it's better to go and live in Manila just to appreciate the fact that you can go to Glorietta without bumping anyone, or go to Rob with your special someone without a relative accosting you to divulge your friend's biodata, even going to malls na nakatsinelas. In bacolod, everyone dresses up to sevens just to watch a movie!!! Jus go to Rob and see people in their sunday's best bedecked with brillantes that can blind you. "La mona en seda, mona secada." But I have to admit, people in Negros have style and knows how to carry themselves.

But ultimately, it's always nice to go back to Bacolod and spend vacation there. Only vacation. and maybe retirement. Life is so good in Negros and much better than Manila. Even I have some bad quips about my hometown, I'll still go back and live there.

Cornball Review

A good friend brought some caramel corn last week. It looked like one of those US made gourment popcorns heaped into a tub. Well, the label says "Chef Tony's Popcorn", a product that is not available in any supermarket from my experience, so it seemed that my friend sourced this somewhere else.

I opened the tub and corn greeted me with its golden sheen of fine uncoagulated caramel. It has to be gourmet. Each kernel was distinct and entirely coated with a thin layer of goodness. Far from the commericalized cousins like Fiddle Faddle, Peacock, Goldilocks and Nuts'n'Pops, Chef Tony's is in a class by itself. I did not see clumps of corn sticking to each other.

I took half a handful and popped several into my mouth. The taste was sweet as one would expect with caramel, but not so sweet that it would make your head spin. Since there was no globs of hardened caramel jutting from the corn, I did not have the usual experience on crunching on sugar, which was a relief I tell you. As my tastebuds got acquainted with the flavors, a blast of saltiness shot from the corn and melded into the caramel producing a very unique experience. The taste was like that of kettle corn but with more body and character. After the coating has disappeared, the kernel practically melted in my tongue leaving a soft buttery taste. My glands went overdrive as the salivary floodgates were opened and gushed into my palate. Pure bliss.

I wasn't able to resist popping another batch into my already anticipating maw. The weird thing was, I was fast becoming addicted to it with my mind saying, "just one more bite won't hurt." After watching my daily dose of MadTV, the bucket was nearly halfway through. I didn't know I had been eating the damn thing non-stop for 30 minutes. Oh, well.

The label did not indicate that this popcorn can be highly addictive! As I looked more closely, there was a phone number for customers who would like bulk orders. It had to be toll free in the US. I thought,"Hey, wait a minute. The number starts with 0917?? Isn't this a Globe number?" It was. And "Chef Tony's" is a local product! Yahoo! After a while, I called the source and they happily provided me with the info on where to buy the stuff, and that means more happy days to come.

You can contact Chef Tony's at 0917-500-CORN.

The Smile

The smile that escaped her withered lips
forced up by miseries untold
quivered slightly as my eyes unveiled
her wrinkled lips cracked from the cold.

God Of Small Things

'No one can deny the fact of Evil,' said the philosopher, sententiously. 'Now, if God cannot prevent Evil he is not all-powerful, and if he can prevent it and will not, he is not all-good.'
-W. Somerset Maugham, The Judgement Seat

Right in the heart of Makati's Ayala avenue, an accountant crossed the road and met his maker. His brains splattered like pink tofu on the asphalt road while his cranium became flat from impact. A bus near him did the job. Near the corpse were people gawking at the spectacle thinking that they could be in his place right now.

Some may ask "where is God in all this?"

I believe God is still there. He may not like what happened or how it happened but he knew that this had to happen. If he indeed had intervened, then, where is free will? We may as well become chess pieces being moved around the chessboard by a divine hand. It's the same free will God gave to Adam & Eve when they disobeyed and took a bite from the forbidden fruit. Same applies here. Because of man's free will that he chooses evil, he then must suffer its consequences. From his choices will spring forth sin- in this case, murder. The bus driver may have chosen to drive recklessly (for whatever reason I don't know) and because of that, he hit the guy. Or the guy may have chosen to make the run for it and because of that, he became a roadkilled flat "cat". This might explain why we have wars, genocide, rape, theft, and all the horrible things. It's because of man's doing that everything goes wrong. His choice to sin causes undue loss and suffering amongst its victims. That's what sucks the most. And that's why Christ encourages us to forgive and to repent.

Poverty, as an example, is suffering... and this is caused by the sins of those who have more. The unequal distribution of wealth and lack of welfare (government), greed and apathy (society), and sloth (self) are reasons why poverty continues to exist. People who, out of free will, chose not to give (sin of omission) a part of their wealth, talent or time to those who have less remains the main cause of poverty.

So, I blame the Holy Mother Church for being such a lameduck institution. If they force people to give more (not because of charity but because of necessity) and remind them that it is their duty to help carry the cross of their brethren, then poverty may be wiped out. But what the Church emphasizes more is for the poor to bear their sufferings like martyrs all for the promise of a Lazarus-like redemption. It's like saying that there's no hope for the poor to find heaven here on earth, and that they may as well prepare for the heaven that is to come. For me, that's a load of bull. Fortunately, there are lots of religious and lay workers who try to combat this suffering through livelihood projects and education. A couple of them are the Virlanie Foundation (by Dominique Lemay) , ERDA by (Fr. Pierre Tritz.) Another is the Gawad Kalinga by Couples for Christ, and the Bacolod Boys Home (by Bro. Gratian Murray.) Charity is always good, but education is best.

As for natural disasters to befall on man, he is just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Take for example Mt. St. Helens: people knew it was going to erupt sooner or later but they still chose to ignore the warning and continued to live there. When indeed the volcano erupted, they were all killed. Now, whose fault was that? God's? I don't think so! As for Guinsaugon, people returned to an already dangerous village.

What about miracles? It really depends on what angle you're looking at. A skeptic won't believe it but the faithful won't deny it. If it is indeed a miracle and say, God answered your prayers, then can you say that God indeed intervened? For me, He may have indeed intervened because He knows this will help you go closer to Him. His intervention may be interpreted as his love but it's more because of his generosity. Remember the parable of the workers of the vineyard where Christ gave the same wage to the workers who He hired at different times? It shows how generous He is. But if He didn't answer your prayers, that only means his answer is "No." (That's why people would say, 'it's not meant for me.') My religion teacher once said that God answers prayers in three ways: He either answers right away, or makes you wait for some time, or He gives you a better one. I'm sure God's answer to the man whose brains were splattered in the road is still a mystery to me. I can't honestly say that He gave a better answer either. Well, God moves in mysterious ways.

Rejected Titles of Brokeback Mountain

"Hey, just a week to go until Elton John's wedding. You know where Elton's
honeymooning? Brokeback Mountain." -Jay Leno

Garbageman Johnnie Smith found inside a trashcan of Annie Proulx's suburban home an alleged list of rejected titles of her seminal novella, Brokeback Mountain. Prior to its publication, Annie was rumored to have a very difficult time naming her story with the author engaging in back-breaking mental search. This was the partial list recovered:

Bore Ass Mountain?
Broke Ass Mountain
Broke His Back Mountin'
Bareback Mounting
Bareback Mountain
Brokeback Mountain...

Let me know if you've found the rest of the titles & I'll be glad to post it!

I Say 1081, You Say 1017

Now boys and girls, can you spot the difference??

PROCLAMATION 1081
NOW, THEREFORE, I, FERDINAND E. MARCOS, President of the Philippines, by virtue of the powers vested upon me by Article VII, Section 10, Paragraph ('2) of the Constitution, do hereby place the entire Philippines as defined in Article I, Section 1 of the Constitution under martial law and, in my capacity as their commander-in-chief, do hereby command the armed forces of the Philippines, to maintain law and order throughout the Philippines, prevent or suppress all forms of lawless violence as well as any act of insurrection or rebellion and to enforce obedience to all the laws and decrees, orders and regulations promulgated by me personally or upon my direction.


PROCLAMATION 1017
NOW, THEREFORE, I Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, President of the Republic of the Philippines and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, by virtue of the powers vested upon me by Section 18, Article 7 of the Philippine Constitution which states that: “ The President…whenever it becomes necessary,…may call out (the) armed forces to prevent or suppress…rebellion…, “ and in my capacity as their Commander-in-Chief, do hereby command the Armed Forces of the Philippines, to maintain law and order throughout the Philippines, prevent or suppress all forms of lawless violence as well any act of insurrection or rebellion and to enforce obedience to all the laws and to all decrees, orders and regulations promulgated by me personally or upon my direction; and as provided in Section 17, Article 12 of the Constitution do hereby declare a State of National Emergency.

Poems of Angela Manalang Gloria

Through life, I have never been a poem-lover so to speak. The only ones I've appreciated are those by authors who wrote classical and lyrical poems- the ones that are strict with the meters, the rhymes and so forth. I enjoy my poems structured, because it represent order and talent. It's like comparing Picasso and Rembrandt on the merits of their technical acumen to which I am biased towards the latter. My only idols in this genre are: Edgar Allan Poe, Rudyard Kipling, and Jose Rizal. Now, I shall add to the list the illustrious Angela Manalang Gloria (1915 - 1996).

Her poems are almost song-like but full of wit and wisdom. Since she was a feminist during the colonial years, her works are centered mostly from a woman's point of view. Even that is such the case, her talent resonates in everyone who reads them. Her biography can be read here in PinoyLit.

I have collected her hard-to-come-by poems floating in the net because hers are quite rare to find. She has only published one book called Poems (1940) and it's out of stock. So, sit back and enjoy some of her better known ouerves.

Old Maid Walking on a City Street* (1950)

She had a way of walking through concupiscence
And past the graces her fingers never twirled:
Because her mind refused the heavy burden,
Her broad feet shovelled up the world.

Querida* (1940)

The door is closed, the curtains drawn within
One room, a brilliant question mark of light...
Outside her gate an empty limousine
Waits in the brimming emptiness of night.

Revolt From Hymen** (1940)

O to be free at last, to sleep at last
As infants sleep within the womb of rest!

To stir and stirring find no blackness vast
With passion weighted down upon the breast,

To turn the face this way and that and feel
No kisses festering on it like sores,

To be alone at last, broken the seal
That marks the flesh no better than a whore's!

Any Woman Speaks*** (1940)

Half of the world's true glamour
Is held--you know by whom?
Not by the gilt Four Hundred
Parading in perfume,

Nor by the silvered meteors
That light the celluloid sky--
But by these eyes that called you,
Blind fool who passed me by!

Ermita in the Rain*** (1940)

It is not the rain that wanly
Sobs its tale across the bay,
Not the sobs of lone acacias
Trembling darkly in the gray,

Not the groans of harried breakers
Flinging tatters on the shore,
But the phantom of your voice that
Stays me dreaming at my door.

Soledad*** (1940)

It was a sacrilege, the neighbors cried,
The way she shattered every mullioned pane
To let a firebrand in. They tried in vain
To understand how one so carved from pride
And glassed in dream could have so flung aside
Her graven days, or why she dared profane
The bread and wine of life for some insane
Moment with him. The scandal never died.

But no one guessed that loveliness would claim
Her soul's cathedral burned by his desires
Or that he left her aureoled in flame…
And seeing nothing but her blackened spires,
The town condemned this girl who loved too well
and found her heaven in the depths of hell.

Words*** (1940)

I never meant the words I said,
So trouble not your honest head
And never mean the words I write,
But come and kiss me now goodnight.

The words I said break with the thunder
Of billows surging into spray:
Unfathomed depths withhold the wonder
Of all the words I never say.

Cementerio del Norte****
To the memory of Consuelo

And so, it all must come to this—a dying afternoon,
Thin cerements of rain around the forlorn ghost of weeping,
White tombs so desolately splendid, a priestly monotone
Drifting in sacramental grace, and then—the final sleeping.

What else is there to say? (The last word has been said too soon
For you and all the golden hopes once minted for your keeping)
White tombs so desolately splendid, bone unto alien bone,
What else is there to say, now that the sleepless dead are sleeping?

Sources:
* Missives from the Teacher
** Babaylan Speaks
*** Best Philippine Short Stories Index
**** Oovrag.com

Word of the Day: Wowowee

Wowowee: /ooa'ooa'ooee!!!/
verb. To incur undue physical injury due to greed and desperation.

e.g.
1. Tuloy na-wowowee ang mga tumakas na mga snatchers nang masagasaan sila ng jeep.
2. Si Congressman Sipsip ay winowowee ng kanyang querida pagkatapos niya sinara ang joint bank account nito.
3. Sana makikita mo magwowoweehan ang mga contestants sa Pinoy Big Brother 2.

What's Up Mohammed?

From the Study of Revenge Blog

When the Danish newspaper, Jyllands Posten, published the 12 caricatures satirizing the prophet Mohammed, it unleashed an unbridled fury over the Muslim world condemning the Danish blasphemy. The reason why they published it is because they wanted artists to show that they don't have to be afraid in illustrating sensitive Islamic themes like Allah and Mohammed. Norwegian, French, German, and Spanish newspapers followed suit and reprinted the or or two of the caricatures sparking a domino effect of hate across the Middle East. Of course, the Danes took the brunt.

The European alliance of journalists rallied around their kin proclaiming that secular and democratic societies (like Denmark) have freedom of expression and according to a German newspaper, "the right to blaspheme". While it is true that western journalists bank on this statute, they did not foresee the backlash their cartoons would unleash. They should have been more circumspect and sensitive to Muslim sentiments because they're targeting a people whose religion has been fanaticized and radicalized into Medieval zealotry.

And do Muslim zealots, moderate or extreme, respect "all" forms of free expression? No. They are acutely sensitive towards Western criticism and anything that ridicules them, they immediately give a knee-jerk reaction. And criticizing Mohammed may have been their "Jollibee" (see preceding entry) of some sort. If the Danes caricatured the Pope or Jesus, can we expect people joining rallies? No. It's because the enlightened West has separated the issue between Church and State, and has the wisdom to protect the rights of man. L' Droit d' Homme! However, if one goes to repressive states such as Saudi Arabia where women are treated a little better than cattle, how can we expect them to respect the freedom of the press, much less the freedom of self-expression? It's only natural to see such mobocratic rhetorics inciting to jihad to come from repressed rogue countries. The Europeans should have known better.



What I find disturbing is the fact that the current Islamic interpretation of the Quran "espouses" violence and annihilation as a form of retaliation towards any religious criticism. It is all an "appeal to force" as the fallacy of Ad Baculum would say. With such a Muslim line of argument, how can one then, diplomatically rebut? I'm not sure if words would be enough in quelling the anger of the insulted. And Denmark and Norway have already apologized (reluctantly) for their actions but still, the rage goes on.

The contention here being that it is supposedly blasphemous to depict Allah and his prophet in any form of illustration because it will lead them to idolatry. Huh??? They why don't they look at their own historical manuscripts again and see how the Persians and the Ottomans have handily drawn Mohammed. Why was there no complaint over them? Then why don't they burn them first before rallying against the West? It smells a bit of double-standard, don't you think?

Borrowed from Mohammed Image Archive

In the name of Allah the merciful, can we just get along?

Ugly Americans

You ought go and read author Pamela Ribon's blog entry where she insulted Jollibee to a pulp. Well, what do you expect from Ugly Americans?!?! The way she talked about how terrible the spaghetti or the pearl shakes are speaks volume about our gastronomic culture and dignity as Filipinos. It's like saying how can we have the shame and dignity to eat these foods when Caucasian mongrels like Pam think of it as dung-hill craps. Not because I find her opinions far more important than ours, but because she thinks our food (uhh... hotdogs in our sweet spaghetti) is so anomalous that it ranks as one of the most least desired cuisine on earth.

Pam's quotable quotes:

Two girls with Texas educations that we were, my favorite part about our experience was when we wandered in pondering, "Where is Manila?" "I don't know, but they make awesome folders."

"This all tastes exactly like school cafeteria food."

When eating a yumburger:
Meanwhile, Ty was staring at her Yumburger. "This isn't something we can eat," she says. "There's a pink...sauce... and it's pink?"

"It's like Wendy's took all the goo that comes out of their burgers when they're done cooking them, pressed that down into a mold, froze it in a patty shape, and exported it to the Philippines, where they put it between some bread, put pink sauce on it and sent it back here."

The last straw, for me, was the banana langka pie. It doesn't taste like banana, nor pie. It tastes like burned pineapple butter on stale bread crust. With some kind of membrane in it.

For shame you ugly Americans!!

Tell how you love her article at the forum area where about 30 or more pages of pure scathing insults of unbridled vitriol are being hurled at the American author. Can't say she's James Frey though.

Ayoko Na!

My brain is currently in a fizz after another round of review. ahhhh.... boards.... coffee? nahhh... sleep? yeah yeah gimme some.... ahhhh.... ok page ano na ba? hmmm.... here... fizz fizz fizz.... zzzzzt.

Joke! Joke! Joke!

The following is a brief exchange between a reporter and the DeGaulles at a dinner honoring Gen. DeGaulle's retirement:

Dorothy Macmillan: "What are you looking forward to now?"

Madame DeGaulle: "A penis."

(stunned silence)

Gen. DeGaulle: "My dear, I think the English don't pronounce the word quite like that. It's not 'a penis' but 'appiness.'"

Signs of the Times

These were borrowed from a German site showing how "progressive" Talisaynons really are...

Uhhh... isn't that a dead given? Where the heck do you think the hands should be? Somewhere else besides the steering wheel I wonder? And the eyes? I don't presume the endless expanse of sugarcane fields provide the distraction, or is it something else?

This one cracks me up. You can bet your hiney that the first ones to land in jail is the driver of their ambulance. Lee Kwan Yew it aint. But if you drive moderately, you can have the best of both worlds: to see the city, then go to jail.

I guess there are elbow snatchers around Talisay city. "Oooh, don't stick it out sonny, 'cuz it's gonna get stolen by the Talisay elbow snatchers!" And how far do the officials think one's elbow will go out of the car? Should it not be "Don't stick your arm out?" So, if its someone's behind that's sticking out of the window, does it mean it will go home in another car?

Filmfest Poem

(A tribute to the ongoing Manila filmest currently being shown in all theaters.)

Oh, Misfortune!

by Julsitos

Oh, what misfortune we have wrought

to see such films in wide array-

bereft of wisdom, lack of thought,

a show of splendor in decay.

Our peoples' souls are penned in blood,

our story fills the thickest book,

and in our tongues the fire of God

breathes in films no maker took.

For such I cannot clap and praise

to watch moronic drivel pass,

These lemons do deserve a place-

deep inside the film-makers ass.

Five X'mas Gifts for Your Stepdad

1. Prime Real Estate
Nothing is good for your stepdad but the most expensive piece of real estate there is. Such love for him means that what you'll get is far more upscale than a lot in Forbes Park or Alabang. Think of rolling hills with crisp morning air, lots of cypress trees, bermuda grass all around and a church nearby. There is no loud music, no noxious traffic fumes, but there is a 24hour security for your safety. What better place to give your leech of a step dad but a nice niche inside Rolling Hills memorial park.

2. An Exotic Beach Vacation
Your stepfather deserves all the rest and recreation he can muster after ingratiating his slimy tentacles in your family tree. He needs the sun, white sand beaches and turquoise waters of a tropical island, where the natives massage his back with coconut oil. Why don't you give him a one-way ticket to one of the world's most pristine tropical isle in the South Pacific: Bikini Atoll. Site of the US's first testing of its atomic bombs in a tropical atoll, Bikini Atoll offers your stepdad unlimited supply of UV and gamma rays for quick and easy tanning, friendly islanders who love the taste of fresh meat and ownership of undiscovered aquatic species like the three-eyed barracuda. He will have the sole privilege of reliving the life of Alexander Selkirk (the real Robinson Crusoe) sans Friday or the Internet. Or die trying.

3. Full Treatment Massage
For all the stress your spineless stepfather has wrought upon himself and your family, surely, he needs one hell of a good massage to soothen his nerves when he finds out that he is persona non grata with you, your family's servants, your relatives and everyone of consequence. Wouldn't it be Christian for you to offer him one day full body massage at a local spa? He would be indebted for your mercy when he realizes that his masseur is a 300 lbs. on-parole gay wrestler named Igor.

4. Trip to Enchanted Kingdom
It would be great quality time for you and your new stepdad to bond with each other with new fun activities like going to theme parks such as Enchanted Kingdom. It will be just like your old dad. You can go on the Viking Ship or the Ferris wheel or the Tunnel of Love. Better yet, have your new dad test their scariest rollercoaster ride first before joining him. Just make sure to pay extra to the controller to have the ride go on for at least a hundred times. Or you can go with him at the Splash mountain ride whereupon at the point of no return, snap free his seatbelt so he can enjoy the fun of going overboard midair at 100 feet above ground.

5. Bottle of Johnny Walker Whiskey.
One way of showing how much you have accepted your new daddy, buy him a 750cl. bottle of Johnny Walker whiskey or even Remy Martin cognac. Before doing so, get a syringe and fill it with cyanide, and mix it with his drink as you are to serve him in a symbolic gesture of acknowleging his authority over you. That is, for an hour or two, whereupon his lifeless body has slumped on the floor to which you attribute it to too much drink. Taking into account the beautiful state of forensic science in the provinces, it would probably take ten lifetimes to know the real cause of death of your new love one. Pity.

Posters for Sale

I hope I can entreat you guys to visit my other site where from time to time I shall post items for sale.

Jules' Garage Sale: http://newseller.blogspot.com/

Present sale items: Hollywood Movie Posters

Amazing Thailand 2

Chatuchak

When you're in Thailand, make sure you reserve one weekend for the Chatuchak Weekend Market. It's on Saturdays and Sundays only that this great shopping trip transpires.

The market itself is an overcrowded, overwrought open-air emporium similar to a Turkish bazaar where the heat and humdity eats you whole, where the people speak in a language way far stranger than Malay, where the aromas of spiced meats, curried stews, grilled satays, basil, chilies, lemon grass, ginger, and cardamom mix in with sweat, teakwood, sandalwood, dust, paper and mildew.

The multinational crowds who descend on Chatuchak are immense- foreigners haggling in pidgin English for bronze buddhas while Thai merchants calculate the price on their calculators, young Thais eating hot meat curries, Tom Yum Goong, or noodles al fresco amid the chaos, Asian tourists sampling the different Thai snacks being sold along alleyways, or families looking harrassed with all the plastic bags they're carrying.

It's a place that has something for everyone. And the pleasure is in the hunt. There are lots of hard dealing and bargaining since what you see in one stall, you will also find in the next. So haggling is a must. My sister, whose haggling acumen is excellent, managed to buy bronze Buddha heads for a B100. I bought good after-sports shoes there for B350. But most of the artifacts scattered are reproductions especially made for the tourist trade or for cheap home furnishings. The real antiques in Chatuchak have also "antique" prices. Thais know the real McCoy. It's the tourists who are in a bind which is real or not.

Apart from antiques, home furnishings cram many aisles in Chatuchak. From oriental umbrellas, to teakwood stools and trays, to incense paraphernalia, to silk pillowcases with elephantine designs, to cheap trinkets, and to lamps, the place is the ultimate homeowner's paradise. One can get lost among the goods and one's wallet can ultimately become thin before the day is over. Even though the heat is stifling, the urge is there to scour the entire complex for bargains galore. It's surprising that no one gets heat stroke there.

Also, there are souvenir shirts, leather sandals, stylish dresses, and knock-off pants. They have brands that are uniquely Chatuchak. It's like a factory outlet crossed with Ukay-ukay. Besides the garments, there are toys, used books, Thai magazines, and other what-nots. Chatuchak is their version of Divisoria. The nice thing though, Chatuchak is very well organized, the people polite, the smells exotic and there's just so much to discover- unlike the monochromatic and Somalia-like stalls we have in Divisoria. While they have ample room to brisk through their wares, we have to struggle with shoulders and vendors that eat up the alleys. Oh well.

And if you're a Filipino shopping in Chatuchak, the salesladies usually speak to you in Thai thinking you're a native. Flattering but not an advantage for us because we surely can't understand what they're ululating about. But it's only when you tell them to speak in English that they shake their heads and apologize quickly. They then turn to that touristy pidgin English hoping to lure your for another buy. Of course, the only language they undestand is the language of my fingers tapping the calculator and shoving it in their faces. But thankfully, almost all understand a smattering of English, so we were able to bargain well.

Chatuchak.... shopper's paradise. When in Bangkok, don't miss it.

The Kite Runner

The novel, The Kite Runner (2003) by Khaled Hosseini is perhaps one of the best fiction novels to come out of the US in the last five years. It's amazing to think that this is the debut novel of a Bay Area doctor. It's haunting and the memory of the heart-wrenching story remains with the reader even after the last page has been put down. To quote a fellow blogger who reviewed it, the Kite Runner "sucks you in, chews your insides, and spits you out after." Highly, highly recommended!

I hate dishing out synopsis for the fact that many others have been writing them and regurgitating them again and again. So here's the jist from Amazon.com written by Gisele Toueg:

The Kite Runner follows the story of Amir, the privileged son of a wealthy businessman in Kabul, and Hassan, the son of Amir's father's servant. As children in the relatively stable Afghanistan of the early 1970s, the boys are inseparable. They spend idyllic days running kites and telling stories of mystical places and powerful warriors until an unspeakable event changes the nature of their relationship forever, and eventually cements their bond in ways neither boy could have ever predicted. Even after Amir and his father flee to America, Amir remains haunted by his cowardly actions and disloyalty. In part, it is these demons and the sometimes impossible quest for forgiveness that bring him back to his war-torn native land after it comes under Taliban rule. ("...I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.")

The novel is both educational (in the sense that it brings to light in clear and simple terms the nuances of Afghani life, honor, prejudices and customs), and emotional that you will be sucked into the story forgetting that this is fiction and not a memoir. I have learned more about Afghanistan and the Afghan diaspora here than in CNN or BBC. You will learn that Pashtuns look down on Hazaras, that lineage and honor is more valued than money, or the countless food Afghanis eat which is altogether similar to Indian food (kabobs, samosas, tandoori-baked naan bread, etc.)

And this is the first novel that made me cry- most probably because of the parallelism of the fate of Baba's dad with my own. But anyone who reads this will probably cry too. You will feel too the emotional turmoil of Amir, the reserved love of Baba, the braveness of Hassan and the wickedness of Affez. All the characters have been well fleshed out with lots of multilayering and character change. From the insecure yet concerned Amir to his strict yet noble father, Baba, to Amir's friend Hassan whose unwavering loyalty and friendship is unbelievable, and to Farid who at first detests Amir but became his friend in the process. For that alone, you will enjoy the book immensely.

The book rarely used high falluting words or swathes of philosophical reveries just to fill out the pages. Rather, the author created daily experiences and anecdotes so vivid and fresh that one will forget that this is not autobiographical (although Hosseini admitted that many of the experiences are in one way or another was adapted from his own and from his relatives' stories). And Hosseini's description of the Afghanistan of yesteryears is so vivid that one can smell the lamb kebobs wafting along cramped bazaar alleyways or the sweet taste of pomegranates from the sun-drenched hill where Amir and Hassan once played. This is the first book that made me appreciate the richness and gentleness of pre-Taliban Afghanistan.

Now, The Kite Runner has become one of my all-time favorite novels. I hope it will be yours too.

Language 4*/5*
Writing Skill 5*/5*
Flow 5*/5*
Story 3.5*/5*

Amazing Thailand 1

Kho Phi Phi

As of this writing, I am at the famed resort island of Kho Phi Phi, the same one where Leonardo did his movie, The Beach. It was the grace of my sisters to take me with them on their vacation knowing financially I may not able to do so. Nevertheless, I enjoyed going through Thailand discovering what an amaaaaazing country it is.

Phi Phi Island is the Boracay here in Phuket. The sand is powdery fine just like talcum that your feet just sink into a soft cool cover. The waters around the island are turquoise blue that stretches as far as the eyes could see with stone cliff fringes on the sides. Pure paradise.

However, the tsunami that blew over Phuket and Phi Phi has dealt great devastation not only to the environment but also to the brisk tourist trade. The beaches now are clean apart from the destroyed palm trees and some resort walls that jut out of the scene reminding us that such catastrophe really occured.

The tourist trade here never went back to their full capacity. Compared to Boracay, PhiPhi has all the infrastractures just like ours with tiled boardwalks, reggae bars, internet cafes, massage parlors and small resorts. The problem is this: the grungy backpacker crowd just like Leonardo then which made PhiPhi just as wild and partyish like Boracay has dwindled substantially. It's sad that such an island where the people are friendly, accommodating and cooperative would never recover (in the near future) to its past glory. Still, there are backpackers here and caucasian Europeans making up for most of the people here- but not the native Thais. Hope this won't happen to Boracay.

Tomorrow, we fly back to Phuket for a couple of days. Ciao!