Fishing at Ebay.ph

The nice thing about ebay.ph is that there are random stuff there that's worth bidding for. No need for credit card accounts, no need for paypal membersip. It's as easy as opening an email account. Once done, you're ready to bid!

These are my new finds: 19th century revenue documents in Tagalog! Let me know if you have translated them. ;)

National Bookbinge

Oftentimes, patience pays off. Waiting for something to arrive and pouncing upon it at the right time gives one the thrill of victory. It's a victory of scoring a very very good bargain. And now, it's hunting season inside the National Bookstore bins. I usually go for the bargain books, and though most imported books sport a 20% discount, it's the 50+% books that I chase. My last trip to the local provincial branch yielded some pretty exciting tomes, namely:

1. Vintage Twins (Crime) 40% discount - twin volumes that share a common theme and in this case: crime. Dostoevsky's seminal novel, Crime & Punishment is paired by Patricia Highsmiths' Ripley's Game. The special thing about C&P is that its current translation is the best. The much-acclaimed translator team of Richard Pevear & Larissa Volokhonsky did this one and critics say it's the best out there. Also, Ripley's Game is one of the later segments of her "Ripleiad"- meaning that this volume is the sequel to her first work, The Talented Mr. Ripley which I am sure everyone is familiar with since there's a movie of the same name.



2. Vintage Twins (Fantasy) 40% discount - in this twinning comes Carroll's Alice in Wonderland and Haruki Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. Actually, I don't care for Alice and her wonderland. She can just wallow there for all I care but as for Murakami's work, ahh... that's another species altogether. If you're interested in the Japan that's urbane, quirky, sanitized, then this volume might pique your interest. It's quite interesting to note that in such sterile society, Haruki can come up with the most surreal of all plots. It's a keeper.



3. Dai Sijie's Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress (50% discount) is one of those rare gems that crop up once in a decade. This is a low-key novel by award-winning Dai Sijie where it talks about the dire effect of Mao Zedong's Cultural Revolution wherein all Western ideas and products were deemed decadent. The prose is sparse and intimate, and the characters well-formed. And for only P125, this is never decadent.



4. Paul Auster's New York Trilogy (40% discount)- this is a bargain for this volume comprises of three novels which normally would cost an arm and a leg. I got this for P140-. I'm not sure whether the bookstore knows how to use the calculator in converting foreign currencies, or this was just serendipity. Auster's Trilogy does not contain your normal linear plotline. It uses the tools in mystery novels and yet it's not a mystery- more of philosophical ruminations of history and life itself. The prose is interesting without being pedantic, the plot Murakami-esque signifying a not-so-delectable resolution. Nevertheless, it's a bargain.



5. Marquis de Sade's Juliette (40% discount) - Ahhh... au bon livre. C'est parfait! This is the bible for atheists and libertines. Marquis is a genius, a philosopher, for he skews the prevailing Catholic faith's grip over the morals of the French people during that time. Remember, de Sade wrote this during the time of the French Revolution, thus, not only was there political upheaval but also spiritual turbulence as well. His views espouse hedonism, self-promotion, and amorality all thinly disguised as novel of decadence. As for the purchase, this work is scarce and not mass-produced, hence the price was a bit higher. Nonetheless, a perfect counterpoint to the book, "The Purpose Driven Life."

City of the Infernal Sun

City of the Infernal Sun
by: j u l s i t o s

Manila,
city of the infernal sun,
whose gods have left you
to die in your dung.
How fortunate we are
that a morass like you
is dying each day,
your people like termites
festering in your crevices
with its footsteps
and tears.
They drink from your pustules,
wounds of the earth
nursed from decades past,
opened now for the soulless to drink
not knowing the difference
between the joy of death
and sleeping in perpetual hell.

Hasten your decay
so a new dawn will break upon us.
Your over-weightedness,
your avarice,
your ingratitude to History
your indifference to grace and virtue
your amorality
will be your end.
You slit your wrist
on the throne of the Devil
like Faustus
to satisfy your hunger
for quick dry orgasms.

What epiphany shall we see in you?
None! For death is sweet reckoning for you.
Never shall you stand again.
Your empty arrogance is your shackle
to which we hope shall never be loosen.
And praise the day when you shall see
your flesh has withered
and your bones scattered on the earth.
And when you decide that death is better,
only then, I shall help you
bury your grave.

Dead on Arrival

Dead on Arrival
by: Julsitos

Their bare feet swept the floors herein,
without a sound to paint despair,
but as they stopped to call me in
the smell of death pervades the air.

Dawn of a New Horror

It has been three months since I pressed "Publish Post" in this blog. I had not realized that it was that long since my brained vomited another entry from its deepest recesses. Work, subhuman at that, has taken it's toll on my system. No juices flowed, no sparks flew. No inspiration came... but now, times have been a bit easier. So, I guess it's time to take a break and start this blog rolling, again.

Love in the Time of Marquez

There is reason to celebrate Gabo's utterly brilliant novel, Love in the Time of Cholera. Why? It's the new film by Mike Newell:



Even Oprah picked this one for her recent Book Club and I hope with this kind of promotion Gabo's popularity will soar again as he did when he published his One Hundred Years of Solitude.

I fell in love with his books not because of the subject but more for the sheer imagination he has planted into his words where the impossible become possible, the unbelievable become believable. Moreso, his words breathe in that sultry dusty and heady air of South America which is not that different from ours. Think of the cobblestone streets of Intramuros, Nick Joaquin stories, rondalla music, the smell of camphor wood, the waxed sheen of narra planks of old Spanish homes, clip-clop noise of the caretela horse, the rich taste of egg yolks blended into the flan, water stains on limestone walls and mildew smell of the pages of leather-bound books. It's no wonder why a LOT of Filipinos put Marquez as their top choice for a Nobel-prizewinning author. I hope with this new film out, more Pinoys shall enjoy Marquez's works for the pleasure of it, and I'm confident it will be as enduring as Florentino's love for Fermina.

Immodest Proposal

Students have learned in school that British satirist Johnathan Swift is the author of Gulliver's Travels but most literate people however do not know that he also wrote scathing essays about the pressing social issues of his days.

One of these essays is his "A Modest Proposal", a sarcastic reaction to the overpopulation of the Irish during the late 18th century. His solution to the escalating problem of population explosion where impoverished mothers were spawning kids like pigs in a blanket is to fatten these oxygen-consuming creatures for culinary consumption.

Swift proposed, "that a young healthy child well nursed is at a year old a most delicious, nourishing, and wholesome food, whether stewed, roasted, baked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee or a ragout." And frankly, that will solve the Philippines' malnutrition dilemma. Mothers shall ideally give birth to a maximum of 3 children to be raised as real children and all subsequent births will be reserved for commercial use. Swift planned his scheme as such:

"That the remaining hundred thousand may, at a year old, be offered in thesale to the persons of quality and fortune through the kingdom; always advisingthe mother to let them suck plentifully in the last month, so as to render themplump and fat for a good table. A child will make two dishes at an entertainmentfor friends; and when the family dines alone, the fore or hind quarter will makea reasonable dish, and seasoned with a little pepper or salt will be very goodboiled on the fourth day, especially in winter."

In other words, all lechon-roasters will have an alternative source of livelihood. This is very good news to all nuns administering the orphanages for they shall have a source of income to sustain the upbringing of their poor defenseless wards. But will this thing be seasonal? Swift said that "infant's flesh will be in season throughout the year, but more plentiful in March, and a little before and after; for we are told by a grave author, an eminent French physician, that fish being a prolific diet, there are more children born in Roman Catholic countries about nine months after Lent than at any other season." After the carcasses has been flayed and consumed, Swift suggested that "the skin of which artificially dressed will make admirable gloves for ladies, and summer boots for fine gentlemen" in order to maximize use. Such is the genius of the man.

With such amount of children being born as a mere inconvenient consequence of the pleasures of sex, such proposal may be prudent and timely in order to balance the resources of our nation. Infant de Leche anyone?

Exultate Justi In Domino

The major reason I love Spielberg's Empire of the Sun is the orchestral music... and this finale caps everything I love about the film:



Can you feel the bass of the timpani? The exultant melody of the oboe and French horns? The majesty of the trombones? The purity of the voices? This should be the ideal music to be played in churches, but because of post-"Vatican 2", I have to suffer with dirge-like Tagalog drivel like "Hindi Kita Malilimutan" or the Ilonggo mass songs penned by a deaf-mute vagrant from the Plaza that are being sung on off-key notes at the Cathedral.

If you love this kind of music, there's this French film I stumbled upon in one of my Quiapo raids. It's entitled "Le Choristes" or "The Chorus". It's one of those foreign films hailed by the world over which ordinary Filipinos will never see in the local sinehan. It's not even a high brow film but more akin to our own "Mga Munting Tinig."

Building a Library

Living here in the province didn't stopped me from buying great classics and bestsellers at low low prices. Thanks to the availability of Booksale, I am able to accumulate books I feel are worth reading in this lifetime. My latest finds are seen in the aforementioned picture and most prices ranged from P44-70 except for the Kenzaburo collection of four novels which was priced a bit higher. As to when I can read them, only time will tell. And as long they're there stocked high among my shelves within reach of my fickle mind, then I can sleep well.

The books I try getting are those whose settings are NOT in America, whose timeline does not fall within this age of consumerism and whose themes must reflect the ironies of human frailties. The only exception to my choices is the Pulitzer Prize-winning book, Martin Dressler. This I haven't researched on yet, but if such book bested the whole 1997 lot of American Fiction, then at p44, it was a steal.

And newly adopted books from Booksale are then herded to my mini-library (as seen below) where they'll await their duly appointed time. I hope to expand my collection to fill an entire wall of the house so long the wooden floors wouldn't give in.

Must Love Crocs

My dad was a shoe fetish. I am not. My pairs are his hand-me-downs and the product of hours of trawling inside factory outlets. But today, I received a package from mi hermanas in North America. Inside a plastic bag were two pairs of Crocs, a khaki colored one and a navy blue with an orange strap.


Though their designs are left to be desired, their function as wardshoes are perfect. Why?

1. When working long bestial hours (8 am until 5 pm the next day), a health professional's feet eventually develops edema (swelling due to water retention) and thus must rest. But with Crocs, the orthopedic softness of the material cushions each footfall which means less pressure. With less pressure, fatigue is somewhat diminished.

2. The design has vents to facilitate the release of noxious fumes coming from bacteria and fungi respirating from one's feet. Thus, such ingenuity will eliminate bad odor.

3. Because the material is plastic (and is designed primarily for the beach), they are durable against constant use and abuse. I can use it in the rain, in the wards, in the ER, or even kicking Dr. Caprice's corrupt ass.

4. The shoes have an easy slip-on mechanism wherein at the front it looks like a decent closed-toe shoes but upon seeing the heel, one will discover that it is more of a sandal instead. Thus, comfort and convenience are achieved. With a little compromise in the dignity departmant, that is.

5. Biggest reason to wear crocs is this:


I can't believe I've devoted time and space for this! I guess a "shoe fetish" can indeed be inherited after all.

Tie-In Movies

There's nothing greater than seeing the works of your favorite writers on the silver screen. I have read them, enjoyed them and breathed each phrase and syllable. Such sublime works should never be missed in one's lifetime. Although such choices are arbitrarily picked, they are mine, so others must have theirs too.

As for screen adaptations, my opinion is that though it saps your imagination by toeing your mind to the photos of the sets, nevertheless, such incarnations provide a feast for the senses, a tangible ambrosia for the eyes and the ears. So if one would like to have a first impression, read the book before watching the film. This shall ensure that one exercises their brain before the film lush cinematography fills one with that of the director's.

So far the ones that have been shown since last year are these: (click on the title to access their literary form)

Patrick Suskind's Perfume


W. S. Maugham's The Painted Veil


Upcoming films this year:

Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love in the Time of Cholera (Nov. 2007)


The making of the film:



http://www.stonevillagepictures.com/film/inprod/litc.php

Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner



The New York Times article...

Lakbayan

My Lakbayan grade is C! WTF? So Saaaaad! So embarrassing that it inspires one to go backpacking across this God-forsaken yet sublime country of ours.

How much of the Philippines have you visited? Find out atLakbayan!

Created by Eugene Villar.

Yet Another Afternoon

This Father's day I'm spending my time alone at home simply relaxing and listening to the silence of the walls of my house, walls impregnated with memories gone by. The photos with such smiles that speak of happier times, the blooming Vandas at the gardens that are living reminders of my parents, the flaking paint from the verandah ceiling, are some of the things left to remind me of their existence. And such cannot assuage this reinforcing notion that I am living in a surreal nightmare. Reminds me of Stephen King's The Langoliers.

Apart from the usual folks here: Nana, Norma and Jan-jan, my uncle B and his four Korean pseudo-spawns, there's no one else. My parents are living together in another address which is currently located in a 4x4 ft. hole in the ground amidst grassy lawns and marble headrests. So, while the entire country is spending their salaries to honor their padre de familia, others like me prefer to stay home. This, I empathize with the countless Filipinos separated from their loved ones- OFWs working in foreign lands, orphans languishing in rescue centers, and children whose parents were killed violently. How lonely they must all feel.

Still, it is cruel and arrogant to assume that everyone must fit into boxes marked "Normal Family." Normalcy is relative. Though it is in paper, in reality it's difficult to digest. Still, it would be nicer if we can still have that taste of being in a normal, complete, extended, non-dysfunctional family, wouldn't it?

"Losing family obligates us to find our family. Not always the family that is our blood, but the family that can become our blood. And should we have the wisdom that would open our door to this new family, we will find that the wishes we once had for the father, who once guided us, for the brother, who once inspired us..."
-from the movie, Finiding Forrester

Chanson d'Espoir Perdu

by: julsitos

Is there a sun beyond this night
to light my footsteps by?
Will they, the stars and moon burn bright
to share the tears I cry?

Tis the darkness, cold and hidden
so far from human touch,
blind, comforting and guilt-ridden,
filling the heart so much.

And yet the Lord has made it so
that men shall not despair
alone in death nor shall they go
consumed without compare.

Though wise men speak in flourished tongue,
to soothe this quivered mind,
to cloak in velvet, dreams unsung
in folly most unkind.

Forgive me, Lord, one cannot cope
the demons that have won.
Sustain this soul where there is hope
and rest where there is none.

The Unbearable Sadness of Being

The day Dra. Donut Kho died, the whole hospital staff wilted in their grief. From the nurses to the orderlies up to her co-residents, all of them felt a heavy burden weighed upon their shoulders with some even reinacting some parts from the film, "Crying Ladies" albeit trebled at a much telenovelesque tone. I felt bad when I learned about her demise. I saw Dra. Kho during my ER duty but I've never felt close to her- probably that's because I haven't had a one-on-one conversation with her. This is why I didn't cry for her passing.

Conversely, I broke down one ER night when my patient who went back for another check-up died. A few weeks prior to her death, this patient went to the ER due to chest pain. ECG findings showed to be consistent with angina. And Angina is just a Troponin away from being a Myocardial infarction. I strongly suggested to the family that she be admitted at the ICU pending a Trop-I result. This patient vehemently refused to be admitted and her children were helpless in forcing the old lady to do so. In the end, she went home against medical advice. Fast forward a couple of weeks: same patient came in due to chest pain but this time her lungs were congesting. Same ECG findings and her condition was not that good. Fast forward one hour: I was doing an Ocho-ocho on top of this patient's chest when the mother of the adjacent patient who took a swill of pestcide shouted at me complaining, "Why are you not giving us medical attention?! My patient needs help pronto! You're just trying to revive someone who will be dead anyway!" to which I retorted, "You have to ask the children of this patient if it's ok for me to leave her to die just so I can take a look at your patient who by her own stupid free will wished herself death anyway!" With that, the pesticide-drinking freak left my ER along with her ilk, and after a few minutes of hurriedly trying CPR, my own patient left this world.

People grieve for a lot of things but most cry because of a loss of a loved one. My mom once commented among her friends that I was a "dry" person- her acerbic way of describing me as emotionally unattached. That's true. I never feel grave emotions during melodramatic moments, of mushy-mushy sentimental moments or even a death of someone I am apathetic about. But after my parents died, I became more sensitive to the sadness of the someone's immediate loss. I feel terrible when patient's die and worse if I see his/her children, siblings, parents, co-workers wail and howl in front of the deathbed. It gives you a knot in the gut and your lacrimal ducts work overtime. I feel so bad because that patient could have been my mom, my dad, my sister, my other loved ones. And the feeling of death is oftentimes unbearable.

When my parents died, I was still in training and it was frustrating to see that I was helpless to do something for them considering the profession I was taking was the same field that could have saved them. It was gut-wrenching and mind-numbing. Now that I am in a position of direct intervention, I view patients who die under my service as that of my kin too. Perhaps this feeling of pain and sadness is merely a tranference of my own sad experiences, and that I am in a way making up for the times I wasn't helpful during my parents' death. And if my patient's die, I feel as if my own also died.

Naturally, not all patients were created equal, so it is only for those who I had a personal connection with to whom my tears are reserved. And limited they are.

Paprika

I'm thoroughly looking forward to watching Satoshi Kon's newest ouerve: Paprika. It's one of his most psychedelic piece of animation where the plot goes like this :

With PAPRIKA, Satoshi Kon unleashes another eye-popping anime adventure. The visually striking thriller is set in the not-too-distant future, where doctors are developing a groundbreaking new psychotherapy treatment called PT. This coincides with the invention of a device called the "DC Mini," which enables researchers to enter the dreams of a subject and explore matters of the unconscious mind. But one day, a "DC Mini" prototype goes missing, and the doctors are thrown into a world of confusion. They realize how dangerous a turn of events this could be, and to ensure that things don’t spiral out of control, they embark on a mad quest to track down the missing prototype. The pretty but timid Dr. Atsuko Chiba teams up with the food-loving Dr. Tokita to find his assistant, Himuro, who has disappeared. Unfortunately, it is at this time that Atsuko’s boss, Torataro Shima, tries to commit suicide. Dr. Tokita calls in an old friend, Detective Konakawa, to help the team find an answer to the rapidly devolving problem. As the characters use their dreamworld alter egos to enter the dreams of troubled patients, the line between reality and unreality begins to blur, until no one knows for sure what is real and what isn’t.

Review? Well a 100% from Rotten Tomatoes won't hurt. The music by Susumu Hirasawa works perfectly with the craziness of the whole film. Hirasawa is the same guy who did the music for Millenium Actress as seen below.

Savor and inhale the fantastic opening credits!



Another of his other works:

Millenium Actress:

Tupad Bulata, Sipalay 1

Another milestone was set in our department: everyone (including the duty residents and our chief service consultant went to the jewel of the sugar isle, Sipalay.) When I mean milestone, I mean that this is the first time everyone went out for a vacation.



Sipalay is one of the remotest cities south of Bacolod. It is in fact 40 kilometers away from the next town, Cauayan. During the 70s, the place was swarming with NPA insurgents and political overlords. The road then was rough, unpaved and rarely used. It was a no-man's land. But now, after being discovered by Germans and with the roads paved with the smoothest asphalt, Sipalay has now positioned itself as the unspoilt paradise of Negros. Today, many Negrenses are willing to travel long hours just to reach this place. Unfortunately, what God has blest this area with good marine life, man in his greed has burned the hills and the mountains leaving them bare and brown. That's what I saw during the zig-zagging roadtrip to Sipalay- entire hills have been replanted with cogon grass and banana plants. It's a sad sad sight, which is probably why the city and all the corru... umm correct political families therein (Familia "Psycho"-path) have only been trumpeting their marine areas.

Anyway, we reached the pitstop after a circuitous route made up of the roughest dirt road imagined, steep inclines, and a wonderful backdrop of dried up rice paddies and thatch houses. Our group was very concerned of the state of our "kansi" cauldron. Kansi as a soup is delicious, but when dribbled over bags and stuff, it turns into the most noxious gunk. Good thing it only splattered on the floor, and thank goodness it wasn't my car. Heh-heh-heh.

When we arrived at the compound, I realized we arrived at the edge of paradise. The house was a two-story California beach villa nestled among the tall coconut trees 10 meters from the seashore.



The owner, a local architect, has good taste structure-wise and interior-wise. His resort-house is compact and yet it has the feel of being in a 3-star resort. His was far away from the usual nipa-&-sawali versions and other bamboo-clad nativist huts that one usually finds in small time resorts like this. Well, being an architect helped a lot. The floors were stone-tiled, the stairs and upper quarters lined with polished hard wood floors, the bathroom was huge that someone even commented that she could dance inside, the kitchen was easily accessible, the porch opened to the sea and the sala with its French glass windows and Barbados-style furnitures makes the whole set-up very relaxing.

The whole group brought in their bags and chilled out at the porch. Most of us just sat down at the pebble-washed porch breathing in the fresh salt air, listening to the swish of the coconut fronds, and doing exactly NOTHING. Nothing productive. Nothing utilitarian. It was sheer bliss. It sure soothed us to think that at this one moment, we can sit down and do what neanderthals did thousand of years before- sleep and eat. Rather than frizzle our brains with esoteric pathophysiologies and worry if our patient is still alive, that day was a day to let our hair down... and it was only the beginning.

Mother's Day Special

Happy Mother's Day, Mom, though you're already looking down on us from "up" there. Won't forget you. I just wish that there would have been more Mother's Day for us to celebrate, but I guess God had other plans for you. He called you home.

Burn

Crash & Burn
by: Savage Garden

When you feel all alone
And the world has turned it's back on you
Give me a moment please
To tame your wild, wild heart


I know you feel like the walls are closing in on you
It's hard to find relief and people can be so cold
When darkness is upon your door and you feel like you can't
Take anymore


Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone


When you feel all alone
And a loyal friend is hard to find
You're caught in a one-way street
With the monsters in your head


When hopes and dreams are far away and
You feel like you can't face the day


Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone


Because there has always been heartache and pain
And when it's over you'll breathe again
You'll breathe again


When you feel all alone
And the world has turned it's back on you
Give me a moment please
To tame your wild, wild heart


Let me be the one you call
If you jump I'll break your fall
Lift you up and fly away with you into the night
If you need to fall apart
I can mend a broken heart
If you need to crash then crash and burn
You're not alone

... great song... pity it didn't garnered as much fame as their other songs. Trivia: The wife of the guitarist of the now defunct Savage Garden is a Filipina in Australia.

Calea Calea Calea

One of the most hallowed institutions of culinary arts here in this fair city of Bacolod is Calea. The place is well-known to all and even Red Ribbon (with its dismal sales) will attest to the prowess and sheer tenacity of this dessert place. Only during force majeure will Calea fall. (A matchstick and a can of petrol will do the trick!) In a nutshell, because of its unyielding quality and generous quantity, Calea will forever increase the diabetic curve of my fellow Negrenses. Pass me the insulin will you. Better yet, let me inject 10 'u' Actrapid SQ stat prior to cake consumption.

Calea, hopefully, will not be beholden to the Sodom & Gommorah (that is Manila) when it tries to tempt our cakeshop with the promise of hyperbolic profits. I'm glad that instead of taking the bait and let Manileños have their cake too, Calea is contented to sit and relax and see its three shops here churn centavos in profits. At least this will ultimately force Manileños to order stuff provincially rather than to have everything conveniently bought from Glorietta.



Their main shop sits beside the 3-star hotel called L'Fisher, Lacson Street while the other two are conveniently located in Robinsons and Eastblock. They open from 10? to 10 p.m. Negrenses looking to have their dose of diabetes can get their daily shots there.



But the question remains, what makes Calea very very special?
1. Even though they are located in the heart of this provincial nest of vipers, Calea is able to make cakes worthy of Nigella Lawson with ingredients culled from Bavaria. Take for instance their White Chocolate Cheesecake. It's rich and sinfully so, and is accompanied by a spoonful of raspberry puree. Where in Manila can you find such treat for only P60? Even Sugarhouse cannot afford such luxury.

2. The varieties are endless (only in Bacolod you will find the racist dessert called Black Sambo which is merely chocolate-vanilla layered pannacotta) and Calea is not stuck with the usual regimen of Chocolate cake and Chocolate Crinkles and Blueberry Cheesecake. Each cake is filled with soul and people who have tasted Calea will always point out how "uncommercialized" the taste is. For instance their Blueberry Cheesecake are like the ones being made in NYC and the crust! the crust! How to describe it? A buttery concoction of oatmeal crunch granola instead of the usual graham crust being peddled in Starbucks and Cheesecake Factory. They even have several semifreddos that even Bizu can't come up with.



3. The place (especially in East block) has a great atmosphere. Great concept and lay-out that is more like Sugarhouse with personality. It is fortunate that whoever designed the place didn't get his/her inspiration from Dumaguete's House of Sans Rival because did not end up looking like the interiors copied from a Grimm's Fairy Tale.

4. They serve goooooooood coffee. I don't know what blend or what style (perhaps human kopi luwak?) but their White Chocolate Capuccino is waaaaaaay better than Starbucks.

5. The price! The most expensive cake would be around P60-65. Most cheesecakes are in the P50s range and the Butter pecan slice about P64. In McDo, your P65 is just your typical Cheeseburger meal. Do the math.



Thus, Calea is ours and ours alone to taste and enjoy.