Last month, one of the yayas for my niece and nephew went on vacation. It was the fiesta in their town and she was this year's hermana mayor.
Here in the city, being hermana mayor was a position my parents cannot even dare assume when our village holds its own pseudo-fiesta annually. Not only was it too much of a hassle, with every detail of the event passing through you, but also quite expensive since the hermana mayor is expected to shell out for fiesta expenses such as the musiko, fireworks, and prizes for raffles or contests. And not to mention the amount of food he has to prepare to feed anyone and everyone who has helped in preparing and conducting the whole affair. The amount of food we're talking about here would be enough to feed an entire tribe in the far-flung villages of Africa for at least one month. I know, obscene.
And so the yaya left for a few weeks vacation. My mom, being the dakilang lola that she is, assumed the yaya role temporarily. And that meant staying up with my hyperactive nephew's kakulitan. She had no choice. Besides, it's only her who can understand my nephew's blabber. I swear, the two of them have developed a language only they could understand.
After a few weeks -- enough time for my three-year-old nephew to perfect the recognition of alphabet letters, colors and shapes, learn to count from 1 to 10 in both English and Spanish (impressive, huh?) -- the yaya finally came back.
Immediately upon her return she carries with her a brand new problem. Her son couldn't enrol for this coming school year coz they didn't have enough money for the school registration. That's why she needs to advance some money to send back home for her son's education.
All of these came at the expense of feeding half the town during the fiesta.
How twisted can some people's priorities be.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Kids Love The Rains
The air had a distinct feel and smell around it. The normally bright afternoon sun suddenly took cover behind the heavy, grayish clouds.
Then it began. The rain started pouring down. Suddenly and heavily.
The rainy season is knocking on our door. To some, it would be a welcome respite from the blistering heat we have endured for the past two months of this summer. For the farmers, it may simply mean a refreshing blessing for their thirsty crops. But to others, the dreaded rains would be bringing more inconvenience than comfort. Memories of harder commutes due to floods and those damn picky taxi drivers come rushing in. And don't even let my wife get started on her dilemma on wardrobe decisions during the rainy season.
Outside, kids running down the street take simple pleasure on every droplet of rain splashing on their half-baked skin. The larger the drop, the deeper the pleasure it gives when it spatters on their bodies. Then there is that different thrill in playing basketball in the midst of a thunderous downpour. Shooting the ball while raindrops try to pierce in your eyes add to the difficulty level no Playstation game can virtually imitate. And go ahead, ask them and they know where to search for that perfect alulod where they can enjoy the heavy gush of rainwater falling down their heads.
Do you still remember the joys of looking towards the heavens and enjoying taking a shower in the rain?
Kids do enjoy the simplest of pleasures.
Then it began. The rain started pouring down. Suddenly and heavily.
The rainy season is knocking on our door. To some, it would be a welcome respite from the blistering heat we have endured for the past two months of this summer. For the farmers, it may simply mean a refreshing blessing for their thirsty crops. But to others, the dreaded rains would be bringing more inconvenience than comfort. Memories of harder commutes due to floods and those damn picky taxi drivers come rushing in. And don't even let my wife get started on her dilemma on wardrobe decisions during the rainy season.
Outside, kids running down the street take simple pleasure on every droplet of rain splashing on their half-baked skin. The larger the drop, the deeper the pleasure it gives when it spatters on their bodies. Then there is that different thrill in playing basketball in the midst of a thunderous downpour. Shooting the ball while raindrops try to pierce in your eyes add to the difficulty level no Playstation game can virtually imitate. And go ahead, ask them and they know where to search for that perfect alulod where they can enjoy the heavy gush of rainwater falling down their heads.
Do you still remember the joys of looking towards the heavens and enjoying taking a shower in the rain?
Kids do enjoy the simplest of pleasures.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Telephones
The cellphone craze has been with Filipinos for quite a few years now. Practically everyone you know has his or her own cellphone. The convenience of having a cellphone has inevitably become a necessity. With just a few strokes of the finger, your message can be sent across.
But do you remember that not so long ago having a phone line was practically a luxury? You would be considered lucky if you only had to wait 5 years before they install a phone line in your home. And this is not a joke.
Here's one memory of my phoneless days.
Since we didn't have a landline in our home back then, it was my practice to list my cousin's phone number in our class directory to have me contacted during urgent situations. This cousin lived in the same street where I was from.
We were in highschool back then. I'm just not sure which year level. Most probably first year coz my sked allowed me to be home early that afternoon to fix my bike (not the motorbike or pocketbike which kids play with nowadays, but the de padyak na bisikleta -- yes, BMX is the proper term).
My cousin rang our doorbell. I had a phone call from a classmate.
I immediatey washed my greasy hands. Quickly wiped them dry. And ran as fast as I could towards my cousin's house which was about 10 houses away. I didn't want my caller to be put on hold for a long time, whoever he was.
Huffing and puffing, I greeted, "Hello?"
It was Bing. I'm not sure if he was the class secretary back then. But surely he was the one we could rely on when it came to information dissemmination.
"Meron tayong PE bukas. Magdala ka ng uniform.", Bing informed.
Apparently, the PE schedule for the following day wasn't fully decided yet when we went home from school. So Bing was now informing me that yes, there would be actual PE tomorrow, and not the PE lecture. So we had to bring our shoes, shorts and shirts for PE.
"Ah ok", I quipped, still catching my breath from the running.
"O yun lang, tawagan ko pa yung ibang classmates natin to inform them.", Bing hurriedly says.
"Salamat." was all that I could reply.
We exchanged goodbyes and hung up. And I was still breathing heavily from the running.
A part of me wanted to tell Bing, "Wait! Please don't tell me I did all that running for that piece of information. C'mon, kwentuhan muna tayo." But then again, he needed to call the others. It wasn't his problem that we didn't have our own phone line yet. It wasn't his fault that I had to run a few meters just to be able to answer my phone call.
As opposed to the running I did just a while earlier, I took a leisurely walk on my way back home. Cursing PLDT under my breath.
For all its worth -- Salamat ulit Bing. I still appreciate that phone call.
And just for the record, we got our landline installed one month after I graduated from college. But until now I am still cursing PLDT for robbing me of a normal teen-age life. Some things cannot be brought back.
But do you remember that not so long ago having a phone line was practically a luxury? You would be considered lucky if you only had to wait 5 years before they install a phone line in your home. And this is not a joke.
Here's one memory of my phoneless days.
Since we didn't have a landline in our home back then, it was my practice to list my cousin's phone number in our class directory to have me contacted during urgent situations. This cousin lived in the same street where I was from.
We were in highschool back then. I'm just not sure which year level. Most probably first year coz my sked allowed me to be home early that afternoon to fix my bike (not the motorbike or pocketbike which kids play with nowadays, but the de padyak na bisikleta -- yes, BMX is the proper term).
My cousin rang our doorbell. I had a phone call from a classmate.
I immediatey washed my greasy hands. Quickly wiped them dry. And ran as fast as I could towards my cousin's house which was about 10 houses away. I didn't want my caller to be put on hold for a long time, whoever he was.
Huffing and puffing, I greeted, "Hello?"
It was Bing. I'm not sure if he was the class secretary back then. But surely he was the one we could rely on when it came to information dissemmination.
"Meron tayong PE bukas. Magdala ka ng uniform.", Bing informed.
Apparently, the PE schedule for the following day wasn't fully decided yet when we went home from school. So Bing was now informing me that yes, there would be actual PE tomorrow, and not the PE lecture. So we had to bring our shoes, shorts and shirts for PE.
"Ah ok", I quipped, still catching my breath from the running.
"O yun lang, tawagan ko pa yung ibang classmates natin to inform them.", Bing hurriedly says.
"Salamat." was all that I could reply.
We exchanged goodbyes and hung up. And I was still breathing heavily from the running.
A part of me wanted to tell Bing, "Wait! Please don't tell me I did all that running for that piece of information. C'mon, kwentuhan muna tayo." But then again, he needed to call the others. It wasn't his problem that we didn't have our own phone line yet. It wasn't his fault that I had to run a few meters just to be able to answer my phone call.
As opposed to the running I did just a while earlier, I took a leisurely walk on my way back home. Cursing PLDT under my breath.
For all its worth -- Salamat ulit Bing. I still appreciate that phone call.
And just for the record, we got our landline installed one month after I graduated from college. But until now I am still cursing PLDT for robbing me of a normal teen-age life. Some things cannot be brought back.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Batangas Outing
Seven hours of driving, five stopovers, and one unforgivingly painful lower back. We finally got to our destination -- Laiya, Batangas.
The resort we checked into wasn't even recommended. The nice places, as we were told, have all been fully booked weeks or even months ago. We just took our chance. It's the beach which mattered anyway. Or so we thought.
A few meters from the rough road of Laiya was the resort's parking lot. Initial scan of the parking lot, not good. Jeepneys. Not one. Not two. A lot of them.
J-alert goes off. Jologs alert, that is.
Okay, maybe the place isn't too bad itself. Who cares about the crowd? Let's see. As my bro-in-law would say, give jologs a chance.
More bad news. The cottage which was supposed to be reserved for us has already been taken. We would have to stay in a cottage with no airconditioning.
And it doesn't end there. There are no toilets and bathrooms in our cottage. What they have are public restrooms and bathrooms.
And as if our miseries weren't enough, here's the clincher -- there's a public videoke machine conveniently located right beside our cottage.
The resort manager assured us that come 9PM, the videoke singing would stop.
It did not.
What happened next was straight from an episode of Twilight Zone. I swear.
Another videoke machine was strategically set up on the other side of our cottage. So now, if you stand in the middle of our cottage, your left ear would bleed from a drunken (or was it drug-overdosed?) rendition of Laklak, while your right ear would wish Kitchie Nadal never became famous for her song, Wag Na Wag. Geez! Even if I do have DJ ears trained for separating the sounds coming from my left and right ears, it was unbearable.
That became the last straw. Pack up, guys.
10:30PM. After re-loading our baggages (which could fill up any decent apartment) into our cars, we were again travelling the rough roads of Laiya.
We went to Marikit Resort. It was in the town-proper of San Juan, Batangas. An hour away from the coastline of Laiya. But thankfully decades closer to civilization. They pride themselves of being a Class A Resort, as recognized by the Department of Tourism.
We stayed at the Presidente suite. Aptly named, the room, like the rest of the resort, was built with modern architecture. Bathroom was spacious. Airconditioner was blasting. Beddings were comfortable. And the staff were professional and courteous.
It was already past midnight. I've been driving for the most part of the day. I was dead tired. I slept like a log.
The following morning was refreshing. Nothing beats a good night's rest after a day of stress. Breakfast from the hotel/resort wasn't exceptional. But going through what happened the day before, I could have appreciated even the food by any tapsihan.
A dip in the swimming pool was a welcome relaxation. I needed it. Especially, knowing that a few hours later, I would be driving our way back to Manila.
Moral of the story:
When it comes to outings, rely only on recommendations from people who have actually been to that particular resort.
Recommended resort:
Marikit Hotel and Resort - San Juan, Batangas
Stay away from:
Magic Cream Resort - Laiya, San Juan, Batangas. I have no idea how we got to trust a resort with such a name.
The resort we checked into wasn't even recommended. The nice places, as we were told, have all been fully booked weeks or even months ago. We just took our chance. It's the beach which mattered anyway. Or so we thought.
A few meters from the rough road of Laiya was the resort's parking lot. Initial scan of the parking lot, not good. Jeepneys. Not one. Not two. A lot of them.
J-alert goes off. Jologs alert, that is.
Okay, maybe the place isn't too bad itself. Who cares about the crowd? Let's see. As my bro-in-law would say, give jologs a chance.
More bad news. The cottage which was supposed to be reserved for us has already been taken. We would have to stay in a cottage with no airconditioning.
And it doesn't end there. There are no toilets and bathrooms in our cottage. What they have are public restrooms and bathrooms.
And as if our miseries weren't enough, here's the clincher -- there's a public videoke machine conveniently located right beside our cottage.
The resort manager assured us that come 9PM, the videoke singing would stop.
It did not.
What happened next was straight from an episode of Twilight Zone. I swear.
Another videoke machine was strategically set up on the other side of our cottage. So now, if you stand in the middle of our cottage, your left ear would bleed from a drunken (or was it drug-overdosed?) rendition of Laklak, while your right ear would wish Kitchie Nadal never became famous for her song, Wag Na Wag. Geez! Even if I do have DJ ears trained for separating the sounds coming from my left and right ears, it was unbearable.
That became the last straw. Pack up, guys.
10:30PM. After re-loading our baggages (which could fill up any decent apartment) into our cars, we were again travelling the rough roads of Laiya.
We went to Marikit Resort. It was in the town-proper of San Juan, Batangas. An hour away from the coastline of Laiya. But thankfully decades closer to civilization. They pride themselves of being a Class A Resort, as recognized by the Department of Tourism.
We stayed at the Presidente suite. Aptly named, the room, like the rest of the resort, was built with modern architecture. Bathroom was spacious. Airconditioner was blasting. Beddings were comfortable. And the staff were professional and courteous.
It was already past midnight. I've been driving for the most part of the day. I was dead tired. I slept like a log.
The following morning was refreshing. Nothing beats a good night's rest after a day of stress. Breakfast from the hotel/resort wasn't exceptional. But going through what happened the day before, I could have appreciated even the food by any tapsihan.
A dip in the swimming pool was a welcome relaxation. I needed it. Especially, knowing that a few hours later, I would be driving our way back to Manila.
Moral of the story:
When it comes to outings, rely only on recommendations from people who have actually been to that particular resort.
Recommended resort:
Marikit Hotel and Resort - San Juan, Batangas
Stay away from:
Magic Cream Resort - Laiya, San Juan, Batangas. I have no idea how we got to trust a resort with such a name.
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