Cathy and Thomas Do the Philippines!

Because I am a GD lazy blogger, I would rather post the trip in photos. Image-intensive post: you've been warned!


One last look at Paseo Parkview *sniff* at the start of the journey.

Relaxing at the Terrazas de Punta Fuego. They are not nice. After the Terrazas manager assured us that we had a place to stay at the Peninsula, the people over there tell us that they were fully booked, so we had to spend the night on the beach. Hello, ano ba sila? Pag sinabi ng letter ng member na we will stay there ng January 2-3, ibig sabihin overnight kami dun no! Common sense lang po! Wag kayong mag-aaprove ng sulat ng member nyo kung mali ang pagkakaintindi nyo. May kasama pa naman kaming mga bata. Your guards treated us like dirt pagkatapos kinabukasan nakita ng management nyo may kasama kaming foreigner saka kayo mag-aalok ng kwarto? Hahaha...and my sister lost her Canon Powershot camera to boot!

This beautiful isolated beach is tucked away in the mountains of Lian, Batangas. Un-touristy places are the best; though there are no amenities, they are inexpensive, and people are much nicer.


St. Martin de Tours Basilica, Taal, Batangas.


Crash! We were on our way to Bicol, staying in our lane, when some 80 year old dude decided to drive his jeep across a blind curve. No blinkers, no signal, no nothing. He wasn't even wearing glasses. The driver, Mr. Pablo Rada, owner of Ramyund Bus Lines, refused to even help us with our transportation costs back to Manila. DO NOT hire Geronca car rental services, they refused to send in a replacement car for us and wanted to leave us stranded in the middle of Lopez, Quezon. I suffered from mild whiplash, which ended in a week. X-rays showed that I was fine. Oh well, there goes the Bicol leg of the trip.

Snakes, anyone? Since we were stranded with nothing to do, our hosts, who thankfully took us in, had a party. We were served fried python, and we could not refuse. Snake tastes a lot like chicken. A chicken with blander, tougher meat.

Waterfalls in Calauag, Quezon

A plate of buttered broccoli. Thomas' dish in Baguio.

The Air up There: At the Summit of Mt. Pulag, Benguet.

The weirdest looking Chicken in the world. It looks like a cross between a chicken and a turkey! Protected Area Office, Mt. Pulag, Ambangeg, Benguet.

The hanging coffins of Sagada. Echo Valley, Sagada.

Thomas and the sulfuric hot water pools of Mainit, Bontoc, where the pigs, the humans, and the sugarcane inhabit the same area. It feels like an alternate universe there. It seems that time really does run differently up there, and it's not just the atomic clocks talking.

Our jeep crossing the Abra river in Cervantes, Ilocos Sur. Dust, mud, cold, heat, sun...adventure! That jeep could crush any 4x4 off-roader. What competition? That damned thing was strong. Ang tibay! Laban Laban! Bawi Bawi Aww! (sorry, Petron ad-Filipino pop culture reference)

With MY monkey in Chavit Singson's exotic animals zoo. Vigan, Ilocos Sur. You've all seen photos of Vigan so I won't bother with that.

Paoay Church basking in the sunrise.

Sunset over Fort Ilocandia, Laoag.

Swamp in Mantatao island, Tubigon, Bohol. This well-maintained island is said to be owned by the Lobregat and the Aboitiz families.

Sunset over Inanuran Island, Tubigon, Bohol.

Thomas at his gayest in the Butterfly Dome on Sagbayan Peak, a tourist attraction on top of another altered Chocolate hill in Sagbayan, Bohol.

Looking forlorn on top of a chocolate hill. Carmen, Bohol. I was pissed off at Thomas because we had just climbed the hill, which had a 45 degree incline, comprised of loose soil and limestone. Why did we have to set up a tent when the Chocolate hills complex was next door? Oh yeah, we wus robbed nga pala.

Thomas making laba laba laba at some house in Anda. No electricity, right beside a pig. Bwahaha!

This beautiful scenery is at the doorstep of the Anda municipal hall, in Anda, Bohol!

Rough dining at Basdako beach, Anda, Bohol. We bought fish for dinner that afternoon. Stupid us, we hung the plastic bag on a nail attached to the bamboo pole of a small shed. The dogs got to it. We had to cook in the open using this filthy pot. It literally looked like "somebody had shit in it," Thomas' words. He was too much of a pussy to even touch it, so I had to clean the grime sticking to the sides of the pot with laundry detergent on a bit of coconut husk, rinsed it in seawater and sand, and boiled it with saltwater. We had sandy instant noodles for dinner. Yum.

Thomas didn't like the Loboc river tour, he called it "too commercial, too, chiki-mikki, to boring. It's something for sixty year olds."

The 277 steps down to Nuts Huts. Try descending, then ascending, this flight of stairs with a 10 kilo backpack! I dare you!


Thomas relaxing at Nuts Huts, a backpackers paradise in Loboc, Bohol. Owned by Belgian couple Chris and Rita, I found the place weird, as a Filipino. It's like a westerner's idea of a tropical paradise. I mean, the scenery is great, it reminds me of Apocalypse Now, and I even swam in the Loboc River (which is deep in the middle), but I don't know...you guys know The Beach, that movie with Leo di Caprio? The place is a lot like that island. European pancakes, yogurt. Basically its a place for backpackers. They have a library where you can take a book, but you have to replace it with two books. The huts are really basic. Amenities include a herbal sauna, massages, and you can book river tours, rent a mountain bike, rent a guide for hiking, or take a pumpboat tour to the ocean or to the waterfall nearby. I was the only Filipino guest. Everybody else was white. Anyway, despite my initial trepidation, I kinda liked the cool vibe of the place.


Alona Beach, Panglao Island, Bohol.


Home sweet home. We spent 24 hours of every waking and sleeping moment together for one mnonth, slept in a stinky tent, saw the best and the worst of the other person, and we still like each other. That must mean something.

Tent

Volleyball court, Punta Fuego



Barrio San Diego, Lian, Batangas



Ambangeg, Benguet



Try to look for the yellow dot. Camp 2, Mt Pulag, Benguet



We spent the night on Mindoro Beach, Vigan, in front of a resort Titong Singson built using government money. We woke up with Chavit Singson with brothers Titong and another younger brother in front of our tent, while being interviewed by Maverick and Ariel. See Thomas demolishing the tent in record time. Oh, and they called him "the grandson of Hitler!" as a joke. He didn't take it well.



Paoay Church, Paoay, Ilocos Sur



Calayab beach, Ilocos Norte, near Fort Ilocandia. Somebody stole Thomas' Otto slippers.



Malapascua island, Cebu. Somebody stole my bright pink (!) slippers.



Inanuran island, Bohol. We lost P 5,000 to "bantay-salakay" robbers.



House on a Chocolate hill.



Basdako Beach, Anda, Bohol. Tucked away at the southeast corner of Bohol, we could see Camiguin over the horizon.



Alona Beach, Panglao Island, Bohol



Tagbilaran Bus Station. The home stretch.

Pilya entries

Okies, judging time! my top three pilya picks are:
#3



Hotness!

#2



Wearable!



It's sooo her!

Honorable mention:



What a wicked sense of humor!

A Bumpy Start

Trouble started at 9 am Sunday night, when the car rental company sent us an SMS that we won't be getting the Vios until Tuesday, or 10 am on Monday. Would we mind if they gave us a 1.6 Altis instead? We just shrugged it off and decided to go back to Manila after Punta Fuego.

When we got the car, we discovered that it had a computer-printed plate number on laminated bond paper as license plates, but it had LTO stickers. We decided that, oh well, this is the Philippines, after all.

We settled all our accounts at the flat at around 11 am. With the Philippine road map we had bought two days ago at National bookstore and a Philippine guidebook, we went to my parents to pick up more stuff for the trip.

When we got to St. Andrew's Church along Quirino Avenue IN Parañaque, five blocks from my house, a lady traffic cop stopped us and motioned us t park. We couldn't park because we were in the middle of two intersections in front of a market, and jeeps were right behind us. As we were looking for a place to stop, the lady cop went all C.H.i.P.S on us and gave chase with her motorcycle, blocking our path.

"Okay, be calm, just smile. They just want a bribe from us," said Thomas. They didn't see that Thomas was foreign since the windows were one-way mirrors.

When the windows rolled down, a woman with yellowed teeth started cursing us in Tagalog.

"P***INa nyo tatakbuhan niyo pa ako! Bakit hindi kayo tumigil? Bawal yun pllaka ninyo!"

I answered her in English so Thomas could understand what was going on, when she cut me off and said "Ikaw ha, Ini-English nyo pa ako, dun kayo sa prisinto magpaliwanag!"

I was so agitated, I refused to leave the car. I explained to them that this was a rent-a-car hire, and we had no power over the plates.

I was shocked. Right in my hometown, I encounter a corrupt cop! Oh well better here than in the province. Agitated, I called my mother and my granduncle, who promised to bring us one of his cop friends. My mother sent us an SMS of all the connections she knew, from the Parañaque congressman to Gen. Sacramento. A few minutes later, my granduncle came with his friend in tow. We called the rent-a-car service to explain what was going on. Turns out, the owner was driving the Vios after picking it up from the last customer. He got to Parañaque in 30 minutes, and was sent to a room.

We later learned that the cops hassled 1,500 pesos from him. When he turned over the Vios, he gave us strict instructions to tell policemen that the car belongs to "my cousin" whenever we are stopped; apparently rent-a-car owners are charged much.

My parents were also in a bind; the Mercedes van they borrowed was in bad shape, and had to stop every 15 minutes because of engine overheat. They left at 9 am and arrived at 3 pm.

We had a map that showed us a shorter road to Punta Fuego via Maragondon; so we decided to take that road. It lead to a dead end called Caylabne resort. So we had to drive back, and fueled up. The attendant explained that our map was wrong! The coastal road in the map didn't exist! The auxilliary road was apparently infested by NPAs, so our only choice was to turn back via Tagaytay, 30 minutes away.

We reached Punta Fuego at 6 30 p.m., to find my parents at the gate. Apparently, Terrazas de Punta Fuego closed at 6, so we had to go to the peninsula de Punta Fuego 5 kilometers down the road, where the hotel was...

Overdrive

Overdrive
Eraserheads/Barbie Almabis
Alam mo mayron akong pangarap sa buhay
sana matupad na
magda-drive ako hanggang Baguio
magda-drive ako hanggang Bicol
magda-drive ako hanggang Batangas
tapos magswi-swimming dun sa beach
isasama ko ang boyfriend ko
isasama ko kahit sinong may gusto
kahit may kasama siyang aso
basta't meron siyang dalang sariling buto
magdadala ako ng pagkain
burger fries tapsilog at siopao
magda-drive ako hanggang Visayas
magda-drive ako hanggang sa Mindanao
magda-drive ako buong taon
magda-drive ako habang buhay
magda-drive ako hanggang buwan
please please lang turuan mo
akong magdrive
gusto kong matutong magdrive
(kahit na walang kotse)
gusto kong matutong magdrive
(kahit na walang lisensya)
magdrive....drive
drive

In the tradition of my favorite road-trip stories like Lolita and Y Tu Mama Tambien, Thomas and I are going on a month-long journey around the Philippines. We rented a Toyota 2005 Vios 1.3 engine (not practical but the cheapest). I took a leave from work. I was so afraid to do it.I've never really gone on holiday, so I accumulated three months' worth of leaves after four years on the job, and the paranoid in me worries that I will get fired.

Our journey will take us, appropriately enough to Punta Fuego, Batangas with the family, then Thomas and I soldier on to Sagada, Laoag, Vigan, Legaspi. Then we return the car and fly to Cebu and roam Bohol. I may not be able to update my blog regularly. A sanitized chronicle of my journey will appear on Asian Journal.

I've always wanted to go on a backpacking tour around the country ever since I got out of university. However, I listened to my parents and elders, who always held me back. Well, since I have somebody to go with me now, all their arguments about how dangerous it is for a single female to go out across the country is out the window! This is a chance for me to do something I've always wanted to do, so I'm taking it. I now have the money to do t, and I've made the time for it.

The flat is clean now, and we're in the process of moving out. A new chapter in my life is unfolding, and I might be in for a roller-coaster on 2006.

So buckle your seatbelts, boys and girls, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

The Faces of Eeeeevil

I hate it when needledick chauvanists believe that they have the liberty to do everything they want to women, just because they are men. Honestly, their ugly mugs are enough to warrant that they won't get a woman to like them. EVER.


I was on my way to work when this happened. The whole story is on my
friendster blog. I just culled this part to share with you guys. I hope
this won't happen to anyone else because it feels so wrong.

I attached pictures, read on to find out what pictures I'm talking about...

I got off at Makati to take the MRT to GMA-Kamuning, my everyday
routine. I usually wait for the first train cabby to be able to save
myself a seat. But today, the train was already boarding when I got in
the station so I had no choice but to rush to the nearest open cabby
door, which was located towards the middle of the train. Needless to
say, all seats were taken so I just accepted the fact that I may not be
able to grab a seat for the rest of the ride.

I was wearing a striped sleeveless shirt, it had a low neckline but I
still looked decent and was ok with it. Besides, there was no cleavage
to show off anyway, so I was comfortable with my outfit.

A friend sent me a text message asking where I was, so I was busy
texting back that I failed to notice two perverts standing beside me.
One of them was actually trying to take a sneak peak of what was under
my low neckline. He even took out his cell phone. I was rattled by the
clicking of his camera phone that I actually saw him CAPTURING my
breasts! People sitting in front of us saw what happened and were
stunned. He showed my picture to the guy he was with and was pleased of
his handy work, dismissing that I saw what he just did. I was giving him
a stern look and when he did look back at me, he gave me a smirk as if
telling me that I cannot do anything about it. I got so infuriated that
I called a friend up just to have an excuse of broadcasting what had
just transpired to everyone on board the train and to show the two
pricks that I wasn't just gonna stand there and do nothing.

I was telling the whole story over the phone loud enough for everyone to
hear. The passengers started talking amongst themselves, some clearly
showing disgust for the two asswipes while the others whispering that I
was actually looking for trouble for dressing up the way I do.

Of course, I didn't just stop at embarrassing them. I took 2 pictures of
the sleazebags too. When I got off my station, I talked to the station
manager there and filed a complaint. I was endorsed to the MRT central
station where I will be submitting the pictures I took. MRT management
promised that they will be posting an ad at all MRT stations, using the
photos of the two pervs, as a warning to all others who have made
capturing of breasts, legs and other what-have-you's of women
passengers, their MRT pastime.

I don't know if its Filipino culture or it's just that people don't get
that no girl would want to be sexually harassed period. It is never the
girl's fault if she is harassed and it doesn't mean that if a girl is
wearing a sexy outfit that she wants to be hollered at or that she is
showing off her body and anyone is invited to take pictures of any part
of her!


Love, rage, fire and flames,

Mei

Maria Edilyd P. Orias
Campaigns, Communication and Media Officer
Amnesty International Pilipinas

Tel. no. 63 2 927 9856
Telefax 63 2 927 6008

While I'm being a firebrand feminist today, a parting shot from Jonas' blog

A lot has been said about how to prevent rape.

Women should lock themselves in their houses after dark. Women shouldn't have long hair and women shouldn't wear short skirts. Women shouldn't leave drinks unattended. Fuck, they shouldn't dare to get drunk at all.

Instead of that bullshit, how about:

If a woman is drunk, don't rape her.
If a woman is walking alone at night, don't rape her.
If a women is drugged and unconscious, don't rape her.
If a woman is wearing a short skirt, don't rape her.
If a woman is jogging in a park at 5 am, don't rape her.
If a woman looks like your ex-girlfriend you're still hung up on, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in her bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is asleep in your bed, don't rape her.
If a woman is doing her laundry, don't rape her.
If a woman is in a coma, don't rape her.
If a woman changes her mind in the middle of or about a particular activity, don't rape her.
If a woman has repeatedly refused a certain activity, don't rape her.

If a woman is not yet a woman, but a child, don't rape her.
If your girlfriend or wife is not in the mood, don't rape her.
If your step-daughter is watching tv, don't rape her.
If you break into a house and find a woman there, don't rape her.
If your friend thinks it's okay to rape someone, tell him it's not, and that he's not your friend.

If your "friend" tells you he raped someone, report him to the police.
If your frat-brother or another guy at the party tells you there's an unconscious woman upstairs and It's your turn, don't rape her, call the police and tell the guy he's a rapist.

Tell your sons, god-sons, nephews, grandsons, sons of friends it's not okay to rape someone.

Don't imply that she could have avoided it if she'd only done/not done x.
Don't imply that it's in any way her fault.
Don't let silence imply agreement when someone tells you he "got some" with the drunk girl.
Don't perpetuate a culture that tells you that you have no control over or responsibility for your actions. You can, too, help yourself.

If you agree, repost it. Email it to your friends and family. It's that important.

Happy Holidays from Cathy and Thomas!

A Little Bit Wiser

It may sound a bit cruel, but every couple of years, I take stock of past relationships and one night stands and fuckbuddies to evaluate 'performances" so far--who's the best kisser, the best lay, the biggest dick--you know the rest.

Usually, I also evaluate how far my perspective has changed in the relationships/pseudo-relationships I've entered, and whether I have developed better judgment in my choice of men.

So far, I've been with only nine men in my life (and yes, that includes Thomas), and I have decided to relate the lessons I have learned as they've walked through my life.

#1- The Soccer player- It does not pay to be a bitch. I was really insecure, and I apologize for my behavior back then. you were my first and I didn't know any better.

#2- The Geek- You were a mistake. At least I had fun in the tower. Thank you for fulfilling my wish to "leave my mark" in the university, five days before graduation! ;)

#3- The Artist- There has to be something wrong with me when the longest relationship I've had was with an acknowledged fuck-buddy. No more fuckbuddies for me at the moment, I fall in love too easily. I've learned that I should never allow anybody to take advantage of my insecurities.

#4- Fedex guy- I should've checked out your background. I should've known you were with her. Your now-wife made my life hell, but I found myself in the aftermath of what you did to me. I guess I should thank you.

#5 Anime boy- You broke up with me on Christmas day, and accused me of stealing your mommy's watch as an excuse. Tsk tsk. YOu need some major cojones man. This is what happens when I let my hormones do the thinking.

#6 Yaoi dude- You really took advantage of me. I learned my lesson. I am too young to be anybody's sugar mommy!

# 7 Bishie Boy- booze + horny boys + sleeping in one room = bad idea. Thank you for helping me find my g-spot! Fuck you for trying to make money off me!

# 8 The Writer- Some things are really too good to be true. I should've believed you when you told me you were fucked up.

#9 Thomas. The journey continues. All I know is that this is my happiest relationship yet.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

House of Wax

I am really chicken. The sight of pain and blood makes me squeamish, I have a low, LOW tolerance for pain.

Yes, I am a coward. However, my vanity far outweighs my fear of pain.

My sister wanted to impress her US-based hubby for their annual grand reunion this Christmas, so she decided to get herself a "brazilian" as a homecoming gift. My fancy ideas of "sympathy" and "solidarity" gave me the idea that, hey, why don't I get one along with her?

I have heard hushed stories and glorious results about waxing, the pain, the torture, the horror. Basically, you're paying somebody to give you one of the most popular methods of torture. It dissuaded me from getting "the wax." My "maintenance" ritual involves depilatory lotions twice a week, and a shave in between. I never, NEVER shave my pubes because it gives me unsightly ingrown hair, and re-growth is a bitch!

So my sister booked us a 5 pm appointment at a salon along Macapagal Avenue. I arrived late, and my sister had already started her waxing.

I was led to a back room, quiet and serene, with low, flat beds. My sister was lying in one of the beds, and she was just done with her procedure. Nervously, I asked my sister if it hurt.

"Of course it hurts!"
"You shouldn't tell me that!"
"But what am I supposed to tell you, that it doesn't hurt?"

Oh boy, if a mother of three says that it hurts, then it must really hurt.

I proceeded to undress myself. I was so nervous I left my clothes on the floor. The friendly neighborhood aesthetician wielded what looked like a giant popsicle stick, with a yellow, gooey substance at the tip. it reminded me of Stickwell wood glue, something which I used repeatedly in making my costumes.

"Is it too hot?" she asked. After receiving no reply from me, she spread the stuff all over my armpits.

I then began to babble to my sister to ease my nervousness. Funny thing is when I am nervous, I tend to laugh. I always laugh during gynecological and breast exams, tests, and stressful situations. Once, I found myself laughing manically as my plane during a trip from Boracay hit rough turbulence. Passengers in the small twin engine hugged each other. My mother looked at me strangely as a gave a really loud nervous laugh.

"So did you get the braz-YEOW!

Insert hysterical laughter.

My friendly torturer showed me the fruits of her harvest: a flat, yellow chia pet. She re-applied wax, and her second harvest yielded hair and small spots of blood.

The waxing in my other arm did not lessen the pain. I decided to grit my teeth and bear it. You're being such a sissy. Women around the world have themselves waxed twice a month, surely you can endure this.

Then they went to my pubes.

Now I'm really nervous.

I asked for a magazine, something to read in my vain attempt to distract myself from the procedure.

She applied a small patch of wax at the corner of my groin, with her soothing assurances that "Pagkatapos nito mam, gaganda kayo. Para sa beauty ho ito." (You will become more beautiful after this. This is for beauty), she pulled the patch of wax in a swift motion, as I yelped and flailed my legs in pain. She showed me the waxed part, a dense forest of inch-long hair, the roots so close to each other that two strands seemed to grow from the same root.

With each patch of hair, I began to ooze cold and clammy sweat. I could feel Lactic acid starting to accumulate in my legs from the stress.

"Kaya mo pa ma'm? Kaya mo pa?" (Can you still take it ma'm?)

Willing myself to continue, I told her "Sige kaya pa, isa pa," (Yes, one more!)

The procedure segued into masochism, with each "Kaya pa?" was met with "Sige, isa pa!"

Finally, when it came to the point of whether or not to take it all off, my torturer said, "Sige na mam, tama na muna. Balik na lang po kayo pag may tumubo uli," as sge gingerly petted my pubic area, as if it were a small wounded animal. (Enough mam, come back when there'e re-growth). She said that I must continue waxing unwanted hair, even if I don't return to their establishment. They stressed that re-growth will be less stubbly than if I shaved or used a lotion.

Wan and weary, I headed home, where a nude Thomas was waiting for me. I promised him a hair-free nookie after the wax, and I told him I was in no shape to do anything. "Oh my poor sweetie,it's so hard to be a girl" as he pet my hair.

Yes, my poor sweetie. *sniff*

Maybe I'll stick to lotions.




NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe

Spunk

(Advisory: R-18 post. Children out!)

You are what you eat. This has especially been proven true by my man lately.

It all started with mangoes.

The great thing about being in a relationship is that it leaves more freedom for experimentation. Over time, I've discovered that a man's diet affects the taste of spunk. Now boys and girls, before you go ewww!, you know and I know that in this world, porn stars aren't the only ones who swallow hmmmkay?

Since mangoes are scarce in Germany, he's been wolfing down the stuff like there's no tomorrow. Mango juice, mango shake, Mangoes mango...

Anyway, I noticed a slight "old wood-sy" flavor in his spunk, akin to the "woodsy" flavor wilted lettuce acquires.

I told him about this and he suggested that he start eating pineapples (or "ananas," its Indonesian name), because he heard that it improves the flavor of spunk. Lo and behold, it did! It started smelling...uh...like bleach.

However, this didn't last long, since the "old wood flavor" returned every time he started eating mangoes for a number of days.

So started the "great spunk experiment." We agreed that Thomas will eat a particular fruit for a minimum of three days, and try to determine if it positively or negatively affected the flavor of his spunk, then record the result. We've just started, so I'll post the results soon.



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe