Someone's Fallen for Maxi

The morning sun lay its blanket of gold across the street, at times glittering even more as it streaked past branches of trees. It was almost time for school but in the still practically deserted street, he walked alone at a comfortable pace, neither tentative nor hurried, pink backpack bouncing softly on his back with every step he made. His eyes would occasionally sweep his surroundings, sometimes stealing a glance at the trees lining the sidewalk or perhaps old paper posters half-torn from the concrete walls of houses. Nevertheless his glance would return, a compass unguided and unmanned, to check what was before him, to see how much further he had to walk. Yet in the entire duration of this albeit mundane journey, as if it were taboo, he never dared turn around and look back, a sacred rule never meant to be broken, an act too dangerous to commit.

Just a few feet away he spots a figure, leaning casually against an owner-type jeepney. He flinches just a bit, just a little bit it's almost negligible. The sun could be playing tricks on my eyes again, he thinks to himself. His pace remains the same, neither tentative nor hurried, pink backpack still plopping rhythmically against his back like a soft kick a baby gives its mother inside the womb. Eyes still dart from side to side, though less frequently, lingering a bit more to the left but quicker, furtive glances dedicated to the right. The jeepney and the figure grow bigger and clearer as he draws closer and as he walks on, his gaze is nowhere but ahead. The street is still deserted, surroundings still quiet and the sunlight still beaming silently past the trees. He is a few steps away from the jeepney and the solitary figure who is now smoking a cigarette. Pace maintained, he soundlessly walks beside the jeepney and the figure and within a few seconds, he has gone past it like a paperboat.

He walks on a little bit more and all the world is still absorbed in half-slumber, except the sun still shining brightly. He is flooded by ripples of uncertainty, rendering his legs unresponsive, which had gone by uninterrupted all this time. He slows down, a significant degree of tentativeness now evident his pace. His eyes are now downcast, sweeping the ground from left to right like marbles swirling in an empty glass. Pink backpack is now thumping an almost indiscernible sound with every step and eventually hangs still, doing nothing more than grazing the back of his carrier like second skin. After a time too brief to be a moment, too long to be insignificant, he walks on in a pace neither tentative nor hurried. But not after he almost twisted his head to look back.

And with this, Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros faded into darkness but never into film history oblivion.

There were so many underlying themes for the film which was so beautifully and exquisitely crafted. The movie title and the synopsis boast of no complicated storyline. It is actually rather straightforward and almost unoriginal: a young gay boy (Nathan Lopez) hitting puberty infatuated (or inlove, as the case may be) with a dashing, honest policeman (JR Valentin) who, in turn, pursues the boy's father (Soliman Cruz) and brothers (Neil Ryan Sese and Ping Medina) who dabble in petty thieving. But that is exactly where the magic of Pagdadalaga begins. It is never what it seems.

For one thing, it is not a gay film. It is, as its director and cast have repeatedly claimed, a coming-of-age movie. One of its actors, Ping Medina who plays Maxi's Kuya Bogs, even said "Nagkataon lang na bading si Maxi" or "It just so happened that Maxi was gay." In my opinion, Pagdadalaga was not out to defend of ridicule homosexuality, nor was it trying to justify it in anyway. Such issues involving the justification of homosexuality were not tackled in the film. It was merely trying to illustrate a young person's coming-of-age and in that attempt, Maxi could easily have been a girl or a guy.

But the fact that Maxi was gay made all the difference in the sense that his "straddling both worlds" turned him into a character with a greater universal appeal and identification. If the main character were a straight boy or a straight girl, only a selected audience could identify and empathize completely with the character of Maxi. There are some issues concerning girls which are not experienced by boys and vise versa and that in itself already presents a certain limitation to the reach of the film. But because Maxi was gay, there was a certain duality which was effectively presented. He was undergoing physical changes which would be masculine in nature because, after all, he was endowed with the physical attributes of a man. But another aspect of himself was also going through tumultuous change - his feelings and emotions which were those of a woman.

Plot-wise, though the film may seem to invoke other movies of yore, it is never just that. What sets it apart from any predecessor which may claim duplicity is that Pagdadalaga is characterized by sheer authenticity. While watching it, I remember thinking aloud and whispering to my sister "It's almost like I'm part of the movie." The script was not put-on and was always natural and free-flowing. It was as if someone installed hidden cameras in the slum areas of Sampaloc, secretly took footage of the local tambay engaged in drunken conversation with his shirtless, pot-bellied neighbor and then turned it into a movie. Take for instance this conversation which Bogs had with a female neighbor who obviously fancied him.

Bogs: Oy, libre ka ba mamayang gabi?
Girl: Oo naman. Para sayo, libre ako kahit anong oras.
Bogs: Ah ganun ba? Kasi ako hindi! (roaring laughter)

I have heard conversations of the similar nature in different instances (such as when buying adidas or barbecue from the roadside vendor) but when used in films, they always come across as fake and scripted as if the actors were trying to make it all too obvious that they were acting (duh!). These and other conversations in Pagdadalaga are always realistic and spontaneous. There was a considerable amount of profanity and diatribes in the language but in this case, it did help in firmly establishing the characters in the movie.

The relationship between Maxi and Victor, the policeman was also not as superficial as it would seem at first. It was not just a simple case of infatuation or an onslaught-of-puberty crush even if when viewed from the third-person perspective, Maxi was obviously enamored with Victor the first time they met. In some sense, both were trying to right a wrong done. Victor obviously was a policeman trying to correct the notion that all cops were dishonest, abusive and corrupt. Maxi was someone who cleaned up after his brothers and his father. He cooked their meals, did the dishes and laundry, made sure the house was always clean and organized, mended the holes in his brothers' clothes...sometimes Bogs would even ask Maxi to braid his hair! Because they shared these traits, they naturally did the same thing for each other. Maxi tried to save Victor from getting the ire of his father and brothers. Victor, on the other hand, did his best to shield Maxi from the bad influence of his father and brothers, as well as society in general.

Maxi's relationship with his family was also not a movie stereotype. In fact, it was as humanly authentic as it could be. Maxi's brothers and father earned a living by stealing cellphones and selling the pilfered items. His Kuys Boy sports a "semi-kal" hairdo and stabbed someone. His Kuya Bogs could rival Rapunzel when it comes to the hair and Dennis Rodman in terms of tattoos. His father has a pot belly, swigs more than one bottle of Tanduay in sidewalk drinking sprees and owns a cellphone he definitely cannot afford to own legally. If this were a typical movie, the father would occasionaly be drunk and beat Maxi to death, swearing he could never have a gay son. The brothers too would be no different. They would be carousing around town, indulding in their own selfish pleasures. But not in this film. Maxi enjoys a very loving relationship with his father and brothers. They never seem to be afraid of physically expressing their affection for each other. Maxi always gets hugs from his father and when he is with his brothers, they would walk side by side, sometimes with one kuya's arm around him. It appears that Bogs or Boy do not even care what others would think seeing such masculine men like them having a more than effeminate younger brother. When Victor broke Maxi's heart, he ran into his Kuya Bogs who, instead of ridiculing him, gave him a hug.

This made me think of people's duality, like Vito Corleone in The Godfather. People would look at Vito Corleone and say he was a heartless and evil man, the Devil incarnate himself. But to his family, he was a dear old man who enjoyed his wife's cooking, watering his plants and playing with his grandchildren. Same goes for Pagdadalaga. Maxi's father was not exactly Mr. Rogers and his brothers could possibly give Marilyn Manson serious competition. People see them as a thieving bunch, the greatest scum of of the universe. But to Maxi, they were Papa, Kuya Boy and Kuya Bogs. He loved them to pieces and they loved him back fiercely. That is perhaps the greatest and truest manifestation of being unconditional.

Perhaps one of the reasons for Pagdadalaga's appeal is its ability to project the truth and nothing but the truth, never over exaggerrating it, never undermining it. It is so sincere it is heartbreaking and poignant. The conflicts tackled are nothing new, such as when Maxi's father laments about how living an honest life has led him to watch his wife die because he could not afford her medications. That situation has been used and abused, hung on a clothesline in the blazing sun to dry and left to the mercy of vultures. But in Pagdadalaga, it struck home, a chord all too familiar and painful. Add that with a series of shots taken of people who live in Maxi's neighborood: a little boy playing in murky, smelly, almost-solid water from the "estero," two plump ladies squabbling in loud, high-pitched voices by the roadside, an old lady with a network of wrinkles on her face smoking a cigar. The visual tableau is shockingly stunning, brutally candid.

The ending was nothing short of perfect. It was as a real ending should be - subtle yet true. It had none of the whitewash and unbelievable benevolence of mainstream films. And it effectively delivered the quiet yet striking message of the film: Things will never be the way they were before and if forgetting were possible, then we would be forever rid of what makes us weep yet what once made us laugh, what once made us learn.

N.B. Can't get enough of Maxi? Fret no more because Maxi has his own blog (http://maximooliveros.blogspot.com). He has posted pictures of his papa, Kuya Boy and Kuya Bogs as well as his brand new slippers. He has an entry on meeting the cute Makisig of Little Big Star. In his profile, he does not hide that he is a fan of Sandara (Park) and Claudine (Barretto)!

The Myth

*Recently I was tasked to write something about this topic in 30 minutes. Not a good thing, especially if you factor in my usual proclivity to become overly verbose when I'm emotionally attached to a topic. Which is why, I am going to write about this again here.*

Perhaps one of the reasons as to why Asia has been regarded as an exotic place is the continent's natural tendency to delicately intertwine fact and fiction or, to put it in more poetic terms, reality and myth. For instance in Japan, people still regard the Japanese goddess Amaterasu as their progenitor whereas in South Korea, our tour guide told us that Koreans claim that their great ancestor was a she-bear who was turned into a human being by a prince of heaven. While channel surfing, I came across a film docu on Cambodia which said that in the past, a dragon of some sort was thought of to dwell in the innards of the famed Angkor Wat and the king was even aware of its presence. My several rewatches of "Anna and the King" have rendered me all-too-familiar with Thailand's famed white elephant. The Philippines itself, despite intense Christianization by foreign occupants, is not devoid of such intricate interweaving. For instance, I still unconsciously mutter "Puera buyag" or "Puera usog" when I see a cute baby and a recent unexplained illness I had this year was attributed by someone I know to a person who supposedly had a higher "dungan" than me.

It is a cultural norm for us to do such things, to somehow still explain reality in terms which are of mythological nature or origin. I am not saying it is right or wrong although I usualy tend to draw the line since I believe science and reason can usually explain most phenomena. But what exactly is myth and what exactly is reality? Some say myth is imagined and reality is, well, what we see around us. Thus reality is more concrete and more tangible. I would like to add something though. In some aspects, a myth is an ideal, a standard not yet achieved by reality. And it is in this light that the conjugal union between myth and reality should not be broken that doing such would be tantamount to sacrilege.

For instance, as a child, a boy is taught by his mother to never do bad things such as to steal from the tiangge down the street or not to lie. They are taught to always adhere to good and never to evil. They do such things simply because it is what is taught to them, it is what is right. Thus you hear the occasional reply from a child when asked why, for instance, he did not cheat in a school examination: "Kasi, masama yun." That is inculcated in the child's mind, as an ideal, a standard which he always has to live up to. As he grows older, he gets to encounter more standards, more ideals, more things which he should do.

One of the things we are taught at an early age is the concept of punishment. Of course, forgiveness comes along but as children, we obeyed our parents because we were dead scared of getting punished. The rules are pretty simple: do as we say obey us because if you do something else, you'll get something you don't want in the first place. All children, no matter if they're the ate, kuya or bunso will always get whacked in the butt, sit in the corner for about half an hour or, for the more...er...traditional, kneel on mongo beans for a period of time if they do something wrong. The rules apply to everybody and no one is exempted. That's what I was taught for starters and I am sure other Filipino kids are all too familiar with that too.

As they say, everything always starts in the home. The concepts we learn at home are no different from what we see outside. The concept of crime and punishment is very much present and all are supposedly equal in the eyes of the law despite ethnic origin, socio-economic background, educational attainment, etc. As a matter of fact, our honorable congressman even proudly declare in their hallowed halls the words - "Dura lex, sed lex." The law, no matter how hard, is still the law. One congressman, apparently all too excited to display among his many extraordindary talents, his proficiency in Philippine linguistics, even spoke those words over and over again in different local dialects (which, I have to add, left me teary-eyed....with laughter).

That is where it all ends, the conjugal union between myth and fact, between an ideal and reality. Perhaps the superfluousity of words is all too outstanding it completely smothers the ideal to an almost silent death. Equality before the law remains to be a myth, an ideal which lives within the pages of books, within the walls of a classroom, within the mind of a person. The moment it steps out of its enclosure, it instantly vaporizes, spontaneously combusts into nothingness. We hear it time and again, it is made to ring in and out of our already banged up heads like a bell - "The law recognizes no one. Justice is blind." You look at a figure of lady of justice and she sure seems like it. The local neighborhood voyeur/nymphomaniac languishes in jail for charges of rape and molestation and eventually lands in the lethal injection table. The gaunt-looking guy who stands in dark alleys and grabs carelessly slung purses get thrown into prison. The flashy woman from down the street is sent behind bars after her checks bounce. But the song is different in other cases. The sentence of a rich scion of an influential family can never be served. A jailed ex-government official who has an unexplained bank account fatter than his already bursting belly is enjoying the comforts of his resthouse and even has the effrontery to request that he be allowed to party. A tax evasion complaint against an extremely wealthy businessman never succeeds. Do I even need to mention a chief executive stealing the only right held dear by an already impoverished nation? No, justice is not blind, it's just blindfolded. And a blindfold is pretty easy to pull off.

The great sin which society (I'm not doing a Pilate here, just so you know) commits is that it always tries to justify the glaring scum which clings to it by saying that reality is always different from theories or, in this case, ideals. To put them together would be synonymous to Don Quixote chasing his windmills. And, sad to say, like Don Quixote, waging war with the evils of society would render one completely mad. And what is worse is that this great lie are being sugarcoated and made to appear as real. If we refuse to accept them, they are still rammed down our throats. Anna and I were discussing this sometime over the phone. A few days ago, I had practically a similar conversation with Em too. It is primarily difficult to cure the ills of society when the 1)environment and the existing setup is completely improper for that and 2)everybody seems to think there is no cure. What then is the purpose of learning and studying? What then is the purpose of words when all meaning and relevance is lost? What then happens to the concept of justice when it is not being practiced? They become like myths - words passed on from one generation next but passing on is never enough. Eventually they will drift away from us like dust carelessly swept away by the wind, never to be seen again.

Thoughts from Somewhere

Got a little tired from studying so I'm writing again. First off, I was not the least bit surprised upon seeing that Garci is back in the headlines once again after a brief hiatus (which I am sure he totally enjoyed). Not only is he hogging the newspapers, he's also the star of the 6 PM news, which I have recently begun to regard as the best telenovela ever, given the seemingly exciting turn of events. What's lacking is a dash of amnesia and telenovelas on primetime would definitely lose their luster.

Speaking of exciting turn of events enough to flip my eyelids backwards, Garci's wife Grace (who I have to give credit for living up to every letter of her name...it's not easy being the better half of THE most-wanted man in the country today) denies that Garci placed a single finger or toe outside the country. Yeah, I roll my eyeballs in disgust. Probably the talk of him doing his own hyperextended version of Jules Verne's classic could have been stretched to some point but him not leaving the country? I know the Philippines has 7,107 islands (and, as we all have memorized by now, even more during low tide), making it perhaps one of the best places in the world to play hide-and-seek next to Antarctica. The Singaporean government has acknowledged that GMA's phone pal had indeed entered its territory and between Lee Kwan Yu's progeny and Garci's better half, the choice as to who I should believe is rather obvious. Besides, if Garci had never left the country, somehow, someone would have gotten to him earlier than now. I have firm faith in our chismax network and noses which could sniff better than the K9s which have become a staple sight in malls. Besides, Garci would not be particularly difficult to single out when in the crowd...except when he's with politicians because by then, they would all reek of the same stench - the people's tears.

*****

GMA was in Busan, South Korea last week for the APEC. She met with Bush, who is also in the same politically tense situation as her in his home country. She also met Korea's president and prepared to discuss several key issues with him regarding governance, especially since Korea is regarded to one of the world's model nations in terms of development and stability.

I was with my dad and we blurted out the same thing: "Be serious about dealing with corruption and start cleaning up your act!" I am curious though as to what the South Korean leader said to her.

*****

My two nieces gave me an interesting "gift" before I left last weekend. Handwritten in pencil on a piece of paper torn off a nine-year old's notebook were the lyrics to Sugarfree's "Makita Kang Muli." Seems like they both wanted me to learn the song since they would spontaneously launch into a duet, crooning the now-familiar "Ohhhhhh..." opening just about anywhere. As I am writing this now, I am singing the extremely addictive "Ohhhhhh" in my head.

Speaking of addictive, I also find myself singing "Pamparampampam" from Kitchie Nadal's version of "Love Ko 'To" minus the fries.

*****

In other music news, Wang Lee Hom, my bane if post-teen obsession with a musical genius were a serious sin, is putting the finishing touches on his new album, which I heard was going to consist of mostly English songs, thus putting a temporary halt on my struggle with Pinyin lyrics. I read that he collaborated with Korea's pop icon Bi (Rain) which would seriously cause some serious stir in the music scene. Personally, I have gone by unaffected by Bi's charms. The guy is a fantastic dancer but I have more proclivity towards watching him rather than listening to him. He's smooth on the dancefloor but has yet to convince me of his singing prowess. Lee Hom, on the other hand, is first and foremost a musician despite all the slashes added to his name, and a rather multifarious one at that. It would be rather interesting to see how his work with Bi would take fruit.

*****

There's something I don't understand about people in airplanes. Whenever I take a flight, I always make sure that I request for a window seat. I am not exactly claustrophobic but I am not a fan of heights. When the airplane does its usual drops in any part of the flight, I tighten my tummy and look out the window because it gives me comfort to know what's going on outside. But if the plane runs out of window seats, that is absolutely fine with me.

What really gets the little furnace in my head roaring is when I walk into the plane, look for my seat and find that someone (and that someone is always older than me by at least fifteen years) is already seated conveniently in my seat. This happened on my flight home. I found a guy in his 40s already squeezed into the window seat I had requested so I asked him politely to give me my seat. He half-stood up, hesitated and then sat down which totally left me flabbergasted...and my temple throbbing. He asked if he could stay there and naturally, though floored, I could not say "no." Call me selfish or what but that was just unfair. If he were a senior citizen and looked a quarter of Dumbledore's age, I would have relented without a whine but he looked pretty healthy enough...and his appetite during the flight was a manifestation of it too. In the first place, I would never ever ask someone for a window seat even if I desperately wanted it because it was my fault I did not check in early in the first place. And second, I would never squeeze myself into a seat other than what is printed on my boarding pass! Just because he got in first does not give him the right to pick a window seat of his choice, slither into it and refuse to leave when the designated owner has arrived. In my opinion, he refused to leave because it was convenient for him...which, in turn, was inconvenient for me. It's a simple matter of good manners, respect for others and proper discipline. You don't take what's not yours. It's like when I was in Korea and I remember one of our companions asked our tour guide "Do you have squatters here in Korea?" The tour guide looked puzzled and asked what squatters were. When he was given an explanation, his response still rings in my head vividly: "Why would anyone want to do that?"

And just so you know, I ended up sitting in the middle, almost smothered by two guys. And did I mention I was completely robbed of armrests?

*****

Watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last week and left the theater beaming. HP4 made up for all the shortcomings of its predecessors, especially the first two movies. The direction was "bloody" brilliant as well as the cinematic shots. As promised, the movie was a lot darker. Despite the minor deviations from the book, I was all too glad the script preserved JK Rowling's (sometimes acerbic) sense of humor. I was just a little miffed that they did not even show how Krum, Fleur and Cedric hurdled the first task. I also found myself counting how many lines the other champions had, aside from the incantations. Fleur had four but the other two were just repititions of what she had said in the earlier scenes.Cedric had the most lines (naturally!) while Krum only had two (sniff, sniff)...in fact, the last line was rather negligible because he was whispering it to Hermione's ear. On second thought, as described in the book, Krum was the exact opposite of vociferous which added to his good bad boy appeal. Did I mention his eyes?

The theater was packed with high school students, majority of which were from my sister's old high school. It was like being in a screamfest. First time Malfoy came up onscreen, the theater was barraged by an onslaught of girlish screams I could swear I saw fissures issue from the wall all around us like a network of messy cables. It was like being in grade school and watching Casper all over again (those Devon Sawa days) only this time, the screaming was more sporadic in nature (Cedric was a runner-up). My favorite characters in the film were Krum, Ron with his unparalleled squealing and the Weasley twins who, in my opinion, romp away with being the best scene stealers ever.

*****

Movies in my "To Watch" list:

1. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
2. Sayuri
3. Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros
4. Welcome to Dongmakgol

Forgive this RantingT

WARNING: This entry is lengthy. Don't say you were not given prior notice.

My sister and I went grocery shopping after church today. I passed by a shelf full of 1.5 L Coca-cola bottles. I checked the price list which read around 30 pesos. I smiled to myself. Yes, I was back home indeed. The feeling was funny and satisfactory at the same time, not only because I did not have to deal with a trail of zeroes anymore when I want to buy something.

The night before my flight, every bone and nerve in my body was pulsating with excitement. I was up at 5 the next morning morning and out the door before 7 to meet my dad and his co-delegates. By 10, we were off to the airport. It was raining pretty hard on that day but I refused to let my spirits be dampened.

It took us four hours to get to Incheon...five if you count the time difference between the Philippines and Korea. Along the way, our plane would slip in and out of rockstar mode, headbanging sporadically. I did not mind all the jitter, having applied a tummy tightening technique my rollercoaster-freak sister taught me years ago. I just sat on my seat, slipping in and out of sleep, writing on my diary and listening to Cpop songs in the inflight radio. Once I pulled off the headphones and I heard two little girls talking behind me. The conversation was indecipherable but I was able to make out "ajumma" and I smiled to myself. Yes, I was really on my way to Korea.

We arrived in Incheon at about 7:30 in the evening, Korea time. I was practically taken over by excitement the minute I stepped out of the plane. I saw a sign which said "Welcome to Incheon" and half-begged my dad to take my picture with the sign. He adamantly refused probably because he did not want to embarrass himself, having a freaking tourist for a daughter. I was still sulking about the entire thing when I saw something when we were lining up for immigration - a television which broadcasted a series of ads for Samsung. The entire Incheon sign issue dissolved into nothingness as I identified faces one after another on the ads: Kwon Sang-Woo, Moon Geun-Young and Shinhwa's Eric Mun.

The Korean nationals were attended to first in immigration so it was pretty much a long wait. Dad's co-delegates then rushed to the phone rental services desk since GSM phones don't work there. Judging by their sheer number, I saw that this was going to take a while so I had some money exchanged and went phone booth-hunting. My mother's first request (aside from "Be careful!") was that I find a way to call her the minute I get to Korea so that she would at least know we got there in one piece. Thus began my first adventure. I walked over to a convenience store and asked a guy if I could buy a phone card. He spoke English fairly well although his pronunciation was difficult to understand. I decided to buy a phone card and asked him how much one would cost. He replied nonchalantly "10,000 won." I almost dropped my wallet. I was not used to the entire idea of purchasing small things like a phone card or a stick of gum by the thousands. Turns out, the card would cost almost 600 in pesos.

I walked over to a cluster of phone booths and saw one which looked like a hybrid of a computer and a phone. I eyed the mutated machine warily seeing it had a phone for a lop-sided ear, a computer monitor and a keyboard. I decided to stick to the traditional phone. I saw a normal-looking one and lifted the handset. A recorded voice said to me "Please select coin or card." I moved my eyes to the buttons and froze. The buttons, except the numbers, were all in Hangul! I frantically tried pushing any button I could get my fingers on but did not manage to get my phone card to work. I eyed the mutated phone standing behind me. I should be the last one to be frightened by things like that. I scanned the phone, looking for a mouse of some sort but could find none. I leaned my hand against the monitor as I did this, an act which saved me from further frustration. The monitor was a touch screen. I managed to contact my mother through a phone operator who, I could swear, hated me because she could not spell or pronounce my lengthy surname correctly. When I hung up after talking to mom, I espied instructions in English plastered on the other side of the phone booth. Sobriety always works.

We finally managed to get out of the airport at around 9 pm. The drive to Gangnam, Seoul took about an hour. After dinner, I faced the mirror in the bathroom of our hotel room and saw that my eyes had gone red and puffy, having worn my contact lenses straight for more than 18 hours. Our call time the next day was at 6:30 pm but I could barely fall asleep. I wanted to run out the door and see where the streets below would lead.

Basically my five days in Korea were nothing short of amazing. Like my friend told me, time is precious when you are there. I could rant on and on about the things which I enjoyed the most and if I were to do it chronologically, I could end up sounding like Antonio Pigafetta, Ferdinand Magellan's chronicler. But the best thing about my trip is that I got more than what I bargained for.

* Stationary fireflies.
One of the first things I noticed while cruising the freeway from Incheon to Seoul were the lights. There were so many streetlights which illuminated freeways, bridges and and highways in Seoul, I began to wonder how much the the government allots for electricity alone! They looked like stationary fireflies which dotted the skyline.

As we crossed the river Han, I noticed that there were several bridges. Each bridge was different from another both in structure, design and color, thanks to the lights. The bridges came in all sorts of colors such as green, yellow, blue and even pink and purple.

* A different kind of shopping.
Before I left, Mich had warned me that shopping in Korea was a bit heavy on the wallet. My initial experience with the thousands had left me alarmed and queasy. But aside from the fact that in Korea, hundreds meant loose change, I was given a new experience in shopping.

One of the first places we went to was Dongdaemun, the fashion capital of Seoul. A friend who had gone there before already told me about that place but I had not readied myself yet. One side of the street is populated by three big malls namely Doota, Migliore and Freya Town. Unlike malls in the Philippines which are short yet wide, the malls in Dongdaemun race towards the sky. If I remember right, Doota is around 10 floors. The other two are more or less the same. The area per floor is rather big too and each floor is devoted to one kind of merchandise like shoes, ladies' apparel, souvenirs and the like. On the other side of the street is a flea market where they sell antiques, pottery, bronze Buddhas and Andy Lau DVDs.

Namdaemun was the fashion capital before Dongdaemun. The streets are full of stores selling clothes, cosmetics, shoes, bags and DVDs. The streets themselves are crowded with tarpaulin-covered wagons which are overflowing with socks, scrunchies, hair clips, wallets, movie star memorabilia like calendars, mugs and pins.

We stayed in a hotel near COEX in Gangnam. Under COEX is a sprawling mall which houses so many stores. The prices are pretty expensive in COEX Mall but the items sold are pretty interesting to look at.

Another interesting shopping spot was Insadong. If Harry Potter had Diagon Alley, Seoul would have Insadong. The place was just teeming with people. Insadong gave life to the word "window shopping." The items sold there were diverse from chopsticks to cellphone charms, hanboks to wallets with Won Bin's face on them, chandelier earrings to mini Nanta drums. I was so amused by what I saw I totally forgot to take out my wallet. There were also street performers, people who sold street food while doing tricks and shop owners who would walk their dogs and allow people to pet them. One shop owner brought her white Chow-chow and black dachshund and they did not even try to bite when I petted them. The air in Insadong was thick with the scent of perfume, the whiff of something being barbecued, the musty smell of old books and of course, the voices of the people. In the afternoon, a dramatization and parade featuring Korea's ancient police were staged in the end of Insadong.

Sinchon is Seoul's equivalent to Manila's U-belt area. The prices are pegged at student rates and the clothes there are more colorful and lean towards the outrageous. I did not buy a single shirt there even if I really wanted to because there was just too many of them, choosing was already excruciating. The only thing I bought from Sinchon was a beautiful antique treasure box made purely out of wood. It reminded me of the box in The Classic which held the letters Cho Seung-Woo wrote Son Ye-Jin. Now that box contains the little souvenirs I bought in Korea.

Dongdaemun, Insadong (top, left to right) and Sinchon (bottom)

Technomart is an electronics market located near the train station in Gangbyeon. If I were to buy a new cellphone or a rice cooker, I would not go there. There were a total of 10 floors, each one housing a specific type of gadget, appliance or piece of equipment like TVs, DVD players, computers and peripherals, digital music players, calculators and component systems. Like Sinchon, choosing alone is stressful!

* Going a little outrageous (just a little).
In the Philippines, I try as much as possible to look like the person sitting next to me. Wearing something out of the ordinary is synonymous to standing out. Standing out is no good at all, especally if you don't want a knife poking you from behind.

In Korea, looking ordinary is synonymous to standing out. I got the chance to draw out a bit of my hidden kakikayan and eccentricity by wearing my layered shirts with frayed ends as well as long earrings and hoops I bought from a store in Divisoria. As if that were not enough, I had a section of my hair tied with colorful yarn! Dad shook his head in disbelief when he saw me. His friends took turns in calling me Dinky Soliman, which I seriously detested.

The day after, as a manifestation of my unfamiliarity with vanity, I took a bath, and completely forgetting about the yarn in my head, drew a comb down my messy hair. I touched something thick, remembered the little braid in my head and stared in horror as a small clump of hair got disengaged from the bound strip of yarn.

* The real meaning of safe.
On our first day, our tour guide told us that Seoul is one of the safest cities in the world. Naturally I did not believe him.

In my first night in Seoul, I was shocked to see people in the streets at around 11 in the evening with their cellphones, MP3 players and digital cameras out in the open. They were not even making an effort to hide these things. They were making and receiving calls in the middle of the street!

Every night, I would go out and sit on a bench near our hotel before I go to sleep. I noticed how people walked in the Gangnam area. They indeed did not seem as if they were trying to avoid somebody or something. Their pace was slow and leisurely, as if it were broad daylight!

In the Philippines, I have grown accustomed to seeing men in drinking sprees in the nearby tiangge or carinderia and avoid them like the plague. By the time they have had too much of their fill, they start getting rowdy and noisy and it is not uncommon to hear of drunkards getting embroiled in fistfights and slashing, usually provoked by an awfully ear-shattering rendition of Frank Sinatra's "My Way." In Korea, people simply slither into unconsciousness. In Insadong, I espied someone who had a little too much to drink. He had passed out and had been reduced to a still form, slumped near a lamp post. Not only did he simply stay silent and not torment the people in the streets like an Australopithecus, no one tried to mug him or steal his wallet and wristwatch!

* The Korean people.
The Koreans themselves are very nice, well-disciplined and extremely helpful. I have a Korean friend who I met for the first time when I went to Seoul. She was just simply wonderful and did so many things to make my stay completely memorable, one of which is detailed a little later.

I got to know the Korean girl who did my hair braid. She was just two years older than me and our hair braiding session became interesting because we started talking about a lot of things.

I met a lot of store clerks and salespeople there. In COEX, I was desperately looking for a DVD of MISA. The salesboy tried his best to help me even if he could barely speak English.

But I think the most memorable would be an encounter with a fortyish man somewhere near the National University of Education. I had just gotten off the train to meet my friend and I was trying to find a payphone so I could call her. I could not find one so I asked the help of a man who was working in a bank. He had gone out for a smoke and was about to go inside when I approached him. I asked him where I could find a payphone. I was floored by what he did next. He took out his phone and gave it to me, saying I could make a phone call for free!

* Five thousand years of history and richness of culture.
Korea's history is very colorful. Their museums, especially the National Folk Museum, manifest the pride that they have for their history. Their folk villages and the Gyeongbukgung palace are beautiful architectural structures that merely standing inside them seems to invoke images of time travel already. Koreans are also extremely proud of the Hangul, their writing system, which can express any sound.

Gyeongbukgung (left) and Namsangol Korean Folk Village (right)

There is a delicate blend between myth and fact. Similar to the Japanese who trace their ancestry to the sun goddess Amaterasu, the Koreans believe their ancestor was a she-bear who became a beautiful woman after passing a test given by a son of Heaven. Near the President's residence called the Blue House (which actually has a green roof) is a monument which has a sculpture of a bird in the middle of it. Apparently, that bird will appear in the event that North Korea and South Korea do reunify.

Of course culture needs appreciation. The good thing about Korea is that the people themselves appreciate their culture and try their best to preserve it. Their museums are well-maintained not only because they draw tourists like a magnet but because they stand as a testament to their country's proud history.

* Of aircon and air pollution.
In Korea, aircon is hated with such ferocity! My dad and his co-delegates were appalled as to why the room temperature could not be adjusted. Apparently the government has issued a law prohibiting hotels from turning on their airconditioners at night. Guests could choose to open their windows. After all, air pollution is unheard of in Korea. For a country with a population of 13 million, you would think their air was thick with smog. The air in Korea is crisp and reminds me of mint and eucalyptus. The entire time I was there, I never saw a single car leave a trail of smoke as it sped down the road.

* Underground, underwater.
I have always known water was my element and I was not surprise when a friend of mine confirmed it for me. When I found out COEX Mall had an aquarium, I immedately resolved to go inside.

COEX Mall is itself underground already. It seemed rather tricky to have an underground water wonderland but COEX Mall sure pulled it off. The scene stealer was naturally the underwater tunnel where I could see all sorts of marine life swim past me, beside me and above me - sharks, sea turtles and even the rare sawfish! I actually saw a sawfish! The aquarium also housed piranhas, smiling manta rays, electric eels. But my favorite had to be the monitor lizard which seemed to detest the attention and a humongous crocodile who obviously wanted me for dinner as it snapped it jaws at the sight of me.

* A musical extravaganza.
As a college sophomore, my Asian Art teacher showed us a video of a performance featuring Korean drums. I remember that the performance was so amazing it had captured my undivided attention. After the video presentation, my teacher showed us slides of the different kinds of drums used and the names of the drums were similar to the sounds they produced.

In Seoul, we had the opportunity of actually seeing a Nanta performance. I could think of no better adjective to describe it except "captivating." There were about four drums, including a little metal one which made a high-pitched sound. Not only did the booms and bangs contribute to a frenzied atmosphere. The drummers themselves seemed possessed by the music. With their eyes closed, they would move their heads swiftly from side to side as they hit the drums. During the entire performance, I believe I did not move a single muscle.

Later on, one of them wore a hat with something like a white strand of thick string attached to the top of the hat. Then while playing the drum, he would move his head around, making the white strand revolve from side to side or around him. It was simply amazing and an act like that would certainly require perfect coordination!

* Being a kid again.
Dad played hooky from his conference and accompanied me to go to Lotte World Adventure Park and Magic Island. There, I became a little girl again. It has been so long since I relished riding a carousel and I did just that! I also got on my favorite ride, Lotte World's equivalent of EK's Flying Fiesta! I also got a little more risky by taking the Flume Ride, synonymous to EK's Jungle Log Jam and Star City's Wild River. My knees got all wobbly the minute I stepped out of the boat. Then I realized I was not THAT plucky to try the Gyro Drop and their rollercoaster whose whooshing sounds drowned out the screams of the passengers.

* A train by any other name...and a cruise too.
Seoul boasts of one of the most efficient railway systems in the world. I was itching to try their subway, composed of nine lines which are somehow interconnected with each other. The fare would be around 900 won per person (about 60 pesos) but it was so fast, it was a much better option than a taxi which has a flag down rate of 80-90 pesos. I was at first apprehensive to try the subway because a friend warned me that the exits could be confusing if you did not know where to head. But thanks to my trusty map, I did not get lost at all!

And just to digress, Seoul is a pretty big place. I could not figure out how in those TV dramas, the characters always end up meeting in some place. But heck yah! IT'S A TV DRAMA!

On our last night, we took a cruise along the river Han. The night time view of Seoul was simply amazing and breathtaking. I spent the entire time out on the deck, taking pictures.

It seems like the cruise is a good idea for a date as many couples were also out on the deck. The cruise lasted for about an hour and the entire time, a local folk singer serenaded the passengers and played his guitar.

* Gastronomical delight.
My lack of adventure in carnival rides I make up for through serious food tripping. In Korea, I had a taste of their famous bulgogi and chicken soup with ginseng. Chicken soup with ginseng was our first lunch in Seoul. I was particularly excited since I could use the metal chopsticks for the first time (which, I believe, are easier to use than wood or plastic). Also I had always been fascinated by their rice, which seems glutinous. The entire exercise of partaking the lunch was a full-scale battle. The soup was so hot, blowing it was not enough. It was also quite a challenge eating half a chicken with chopsticks, not to mention getting the entire thing into your stomach. The restaurant owner took pity on us and gave us forks eventually. However what was interesting was that while I tussled with my dead piece of poultry, I realized that the glutinous rice was buried deep inside the chicken! Then as I probed deeper, the strip of ginseng floated like a miniature piece of yellow log.

Bulgogi was so much more fun to eat. Marinated meat is barbecued right in front of you. It is so hot the entire meal doubles as steaming your face. Then the chunk of still steaming meat is placed in a piece of lettuce along with strips of random vegetables and some chili-like ingredient which I do not recognize at all. The trickier parts come next. The lettuce is then rolled and folded to encase the meat, vegetables and the sauce in a square lumpia. I find it easier to turn my lettuce into a paperbag. To eat, you push the entire blob into your mouth, no biting off allowed, then add a spoonful of rice. Goodah!

I also discovered a nice snack in Korea. One of dad's companions bought silkworm for 1000 won. I did not say this aloud but the deep-fried silkworm looked like mini cockroaches with their leg-like protrusions curled inwards.

I stood in front of the cup with dad and his co-delegates and took one out using a toothpick. Muttering a silent "Here goes," I plopped it into my mouth and began to chew. The stuff was crispy and delicious! The taste was somewhere between dilis and chicharon. However I bet it would taste even better with suka.

* Getting through the language obstacle.
Most of the people I met in Korea did not speak English very well. They could understand what I was saying but it would be clearer for them if I added hand gestures. For instance in a restaurant, I was asking for directions to get to the washroom. She indicated that I go straight then right but spoke to me in Korean. In the train, an old lady tried asking me for directions but I apologized, saying I only spoke English.

In Doota, I was looking for souvenirs and the guy behind the counter was very helpful, speaking to me in halting English. I remember he started to look embarrassed and all of a sudden said in an amused tone, "I'm sorry, this is the only expression I know...ni hao ma?" I laughed and shook my head, saying I did not speak Mandarin. Apparently, he thought I was Chinese or Malaysian...he was not the last one.

* The DVD hunt.
One definite thing I wanted to buy in Korea was DVDs. It is very difficult to get LEGAL(!) copies of Korean movies and series in the Philippines, especially those which were were not aired by a local network. I have been itching to watch Marathon, a critically acclaimed film which stars another favorite actor, thespian Cho Seung-Woo. No copies have been available locally and I found a copy in Korea. I also bought a copy of The Classic!

But the DVD I really scoured Seoul to find was Mi Ahn Ha Da, Sarang Han Da (MISA). It was particularly difficult to find since most stores are out of stock. In COEX, I could not find it anywhere. In DVD shops in Dongdaemun and Namdaemun, it was not available too. The clerk in COEX even told me that I was not the only one desperately searching for a copy.

My friend suggested that I check out Technomart if there was an available copy. After shuffling between the 3rd, 4th and 6th floors, I finally found the DVD kiosks at the 8th floor. All but one had run out of stocks for MISA and in that one kiosk, it was the only copy left. Yes, that copy was truly meant for me!

* One race, two flags.
On our last day, we were able to take a trip to the Demilitarized Zone in Paju City. Video and photography were forbidden, except in places designated by the military. We were given the opportunity to go inside one of three infilatration tunnels built by North Korean forces in an attempt to penetrate the South. The part of the tunnel open to the public was about 350 meters long which was inclined at an angle of 0.3 degrees. It was very cold inside and as I walked, I began to envision myself as Jang Dong Gun or Won Bin in Taegukgi. If going down the tunnel was a challenge, going back up was agonizing. The entire walk was so long and tiresome, it is not recommended for people with claustrophobia and heart disease. The tunnel was built with a direction towards Seoul but was not finished because the Southern forces discovered this. When questioned, the North coated the walls with coal and explained that the tunnel was a coal mine.

An observatory shows the DMZ thick with foliage that the barbed wire fence which serves to separate North and South Korea is no longer visible. A small lake serves as a point of reference for determining which is North and which is South, along with two flags fluttering in the wind which face each other silently in a stand-off which has lasted more than half a century. No man has stepped on that area for that period of time. The absence of man and the disturbance hw brings has allowed a unique ecosystem to emerge in the DMZ, with a diversity of plant and animal species using that area as habitat. It is like nature is telling both Koreas to erase the animosity between them and live together in harmony. Sometimes, the lessons men need can be learned from animals.

For 500 won, you can rent a telescope which allows you to view the city of Kaesong in North Korea, the second largest city after Pyeongyang. Through the telescope, I saw the stark difference between Kaesong and Seoul. Seoul was progressive whereas Kaesong was more rural in appearance. Once again, the irony struck me. The North upholds the principles of communism, of equally dividing the resources for everybody. The South was more capitalistic and believed in fostering competition. But the South was roaring with progress whereas the North was sinking into a lull.

Our tour guide told us a story of an old man who used to sit on that observatory everyday. A soldier asked him what he was looking at. He responded that he left a wife and a 2-year old son in the North just before the war broke out. He bade them farewell in the morning because he had to work on a project in the South. He never got go back ever again and all his life, he has been tormented with thought of his wife and son, not knowing if they are alive or dead and what has become of them both.

There is a train station in Paju called Dorasan. By the looks of it, one would think the station is in use. There is a waiting area with blue chairs. A guard stands by the door and visitors can get their passports stamped. But what is most heart-wrenching is the sign at the entrance which, I suppose, leads to the train. The sign says "Pyeongyang." In the event that the two Koreas do unify, that guard will move aside and allow people to pass, taking the passengers to Pyeongyang, past the years of animosity and hatred. But as of now, the soldier remains at his post and the station's train and railway remain unused, silently waiting for the day the mythical bird appears.

And of course, like I said, my list of things to do became a list of things I have done.

* Eat kimchi.
As expected, the kimchi I tasted in Korea was extremely delicious. The blend of flavors was just right, it was lip-smacking. However I could not bring myself to eat kimchi in the morning as part of breakfast. That was the only time of day I did not have it in front of me.

However not all kimchi are made the same. The best was the one served to us in the chicken soup and ginseng restaurant. I was served kimchi alongside a curry-and-rice lunch in a COEX foodcourt but that one overdid the chili. It was too spicy it overpowered the other flavors.

* Get the 411 on tea drinking.
I did not get to attend a tea ceremony of sorts but in every meal, we were served a cup of tea. Tea was an essential part of every meal and was believed to aid digestion.

* Drink soju in a tent bar.
I did not get to drink soju but I did get to try something stronger: ginseng wine. In the chicken soup and ginseng restaurant, the meal was to be washed down by a shot of ginseng wine. I cautiously eyed the small ceramic cup filled with the clear, deceptive liquid up to the brim. I watched my dad take a sip and saw his face reduce itself into a series of tiny furrows. I took the cup and took the tiniest sip. It was like taking a swig at a bottle of rubbing alcohol. My eyes immedately began to water. Dad's co-delegates laughed at me, saying I need not worry since they could take turns giving me a piggy-back ride to the hotel.

* Watch a movie in a cineplex...WITHOUT SUBTITLES.
In COEX, I spent two hours inside a movie house. The minute I found out that The Duelist was still being shown, I decided against seeing April Snow and another movie which featured Kim Jung Eun in a May-December romance with a 17-year old teenager. I had a hankering for some action and besides, I figured The Duelist was a movie I could get through without being dependent on subtitles.

It was actually a generally entertaining movie, though I wish I could at least understand what was going on in terms of the conversations. However I did not need subtitles to deduce that Kang Dong-Won and Ha Ji-Won had a thing for each other even if one was a policewoman and the other was an assassin/swordsman.

Ha's ability to contort her pretty face elicited laugher from me, along with the other people inside the moviehouse. I was fascinated wth Kang's all black getup and pale skin which made him look sullen yet extremely mysterious. Yet the runaway hit was his nicely layered straight hair which, I believe, was the key to his appeal. But I especially liked the swordfight scenes between Kang and Ha. The skill was inferior to the ones displayed in movies like Hero, but I loved the interplay between dark shadows and gleaming lights which made the film an overall visual delight.

* Visit a Buddhist temple or shrine.
Behind COEX was Bonggeunsa, one of the more popular temples in Seoul. It was indeed a retreat from the hustle and bustle of busy Gangnam. The place was quiet and solemn, full of devotees and worshippers. I just walked around, taking pictures here and there and I was wary of taking videos since I might offend some people.

* Have a picture taken wearing a hanbok.
This was one I was so desperate to do. We were practically running around the National Folk Museum I was unable to rent a hanbok and have a picture taken while I was wearing it. So I made up my mind to go to Lotte World where a friend of mine told me you could do that too.

I was greeted by a deluge of hanboks in all sorts of colors and designs. The lady gave me a dark green hanbok which, she said, was the costume of a queen during the old days. I did not choose that since that was the one my friend wore when she went there. I liked a navy blue hanbok with gold embroidery but I was worried it might look dull in the photographs. So I settled for a fuchsia pink and dark blue hanbok.

The lady helped me wear it and she added a hat on my head to complete the entire look. On hindsight, I should have worn something more vibrant like the red one with striped sleeves.

Walking around in a hanbok needs some getting used to. While I was looking for a nice photo spot while wearing the hanbok, I ran into a group of Koreans who were around my age. They looked like they were suppressing their laughter so I turned around and ran back to the lady with the hanboks. I ended up tripping on the dress four times. Thank God I did not rip the dress. Hmmm...I should practice with a blanket at home.


* Keep eyes peeled for movie stars.
Our tour guide said that Gangnam was a good place to spot movie stars. However I only knew the top-notch stars in Korea so the possibility of seeing Won Bin in the middle of the street would be close to impossible. My lack of visual tinseltown luster was made up for by the billboards and posters I saw there: Jang Dong-Gun for Anycall, Song Hye-Kyo, Kwon Sang-Woo and Bi for skin products, Kim Tae Hee for Samsung, Jung Woo-Sung for Giordano, Moon Geun-Young for pizza, Cho Seung-Woo and Kang Dong-Won for clothing...the list just goes on and on.

Star spotting, billboard style: Lee Dong-Gun for a mobile phone, "Sassy Girl" Jeon Ji-Hyun for
Olympus, Ha Ji-Won and Jo In-Sung for a hair salon and Kim Rae-Won and Im Soo-Jung
for the clothing company Clr!de.

As if that were not enough, I wanted to just drop by the district office in Mapo where Ji Sup was doing his military service. I did not have any plans of going inside and plead with him to give me an autograph. I just wanted to stay outside and pretend I was there for some other reason except to try and see how he looks like in person. But I never had the time because we were following a strict schedule with the tour guide. When we went to the World Cup Stadium, I saw signs which gave directions to "Mapo District Office" and I could do nothing more than sigh. We then dropped by the Amethyst Factory and I was sinking into semi-depression when my dad pointed something at me. I was actually in front of the road on which the district office located! I just stood there, staring at the road and taking a video of it, bewailing the best illustration by far of the cliche "so near, yet so far."

* Go to places where some movies or series have been shot.
For my sister, this was the highlight of my trip. In Lotte World, the carousel I rode on was the one used for Stairway to Heaven. Shots of Choi Ji-Woo and Kwon Sang-Woo were also taken in the skating rink of Lotte World.

I got to meet my friend in Korea who took me to some places where So Ji Sup shot some of his series such as What Happened in Bali and of course, MISA. A bulk of MISA scenes were shot in Gangnam and I was telling my dad "Is that fate or what?" We went to the Ritz where some shots of Bali were taken and also Kang In Wook's house. The house was on top of a steep hill that my tongue was hanging out by the time I reached the top. The people who lived there were so nice to let us in and allowed us to take a look at the house.

I got to be Eun-chae for a day when we visited the house of Moo-hyuk's sister in MISA. I am not sure where that was but the people (an old couple) who owned the house were nice enough to let us in. I gave them a box of detergent as a thank you present. My friend made me sit by the post where Moo-hyuk asked Eun-chae not to go as well as by the stone steps leading to the house where Eun-chae waited for Moo-hyuk to come home in the last few episodes.

We also dropped by St. Mary's, a Catholic hospital where a bulk of MISA scenes were shot, including the basketball game between Yoon and Moo-hyuk as well as Yoon's house which was located in Gangnam. And I could never forget that crossroad in Gangnam were Moo-hyuk ran into Eun-chae in the middle of the street and wrapped her with his coat because it was cold.

Scenes from MISA (top to bottom): In the pedestrian lane where Moo-hyuk came upon a drunk
Eun-chae; Yoon's house; the overpass where Moo-hyuk received a call from Eun-chae.

I do hope to get to go back to Seoul, especially with my mom and my sister. When I was there, I was taught how to correctly pronounce "Gahpsamnida." The bowing while saying "Annyeong haseyo" was so infectious, I soon found myself doing that when I was greeted. In Korea, my adventurous and crazier side took over and it has since taken a backseat when I arrived home. I was telling my dad that not getting to see Ji Sup in person was one of the many indications that I indeed had many reasons to go back. And besides, I had staked my claim on a sidewalk bench near our hotel. Every night, I would go out and just sit there in a warm sweater, and feel the breeze blowing at my face. For some reason, sitting on that bench made me feel I was truly in Korea. I hope that bench is waiting for my return someday.

Hanguk Ro Gajuseyo

If you think my Korean has progressed and finally gone beyond "Annyeong," think again. The Korean phrase in the title (which I believe means "To South Korea, please") is courtesy of a quick guide to Korean talk which I found in a useful Korean website written in English. And I need to memorize that line (along with about 10 other basic Korean phrases)...FAST!

I really need to get this off my chest and I have to do so now...I AM GOING TO KOREA ON SATURDAY! ^_^

Three months of suppression made me burst out like an atomic bomb. A wanderlust, my mom calls me and I do not deny my feet always itch to visit a new place. In my room, there is this a shelf located above the dresser. Whenever I get home, I never fail to wipe it clean since it becomes a favorite place for spiders to spin their webs. That shelf contains little souvenirs of the places I have been to, whether outside or within the Philippines. For example, I have a charm bracelet from Universal Studios, a small silver spoon from a souvenir shop in Niagara, an embossed keychain I bought the first time I went to Enchanted Kingdom, a glass bottle from Boracay and even a wooden keychain with dangling miniature cutlery I purchased when I took a sidetrip to Cebu back in high school. And just so you know, I don't have the infamous "man-in-a-barrel" which populates souvenir stalls in Baguio. Cleaning this shelf takes hours not really because the entire activity is difficult. It's just that before I go back to arranging the items once more on the now pristine shelf, I carefully examine each one and like a portkey/time machine, I am once more drawn back to the places I once visited.

To say that I am excited about my impending Korea trip is an understatement in its most horrible sense. In fact, it could be the understatement of understatements! The Korea trip is the first thing which enters my head in the morning and the last thought to leave before I fall asleep every night. Sometimes, I would spontaneously combust into uncontrollable giggling, usually in front of my sister, who would then dart her eyes around their sockets like a pinball machine. One time I woke up in the middle of the night to relieve my bursting bladder and saw that I forgot to turn my phone off. Before pushing the power button, the Korea trip once more popped into my head out of nowhere so I texted Sue that I really couldn't believe I was getting the chance to go to Korea, even if it was just for a couple of days. She later texted me when there was daylight, with a hint of hypnotism, "Yes, you are going to Korea and you are going to bring back Won Bin for your dearest friend, MOI!" I have yet to delete that message, if only to remind me of some of the "missions" my friends have forced me into upon learning of my trip.

The reasons for my overexcitement are both varied and, I believe, valid. After all, it has been roughly eight years since I had ever been to a place outside Philippine territory. For a labelled wanderlust like me, it's almost similar to a bird getting freed from a cage after years of imprisonment! Add that to the fact that this would be my first time to visit a country located in Asia. My appreciation and interest in Asia was a late bloomer, to be blamed perhaps on the fact that I grew up bombarded with Disney. It began with my Asian history classes in mid-high school and have risen steadily ever since I took classes on Asia-Pacific countries and their respective histories in college. Despite the severe memory work, those classes so roused my interest in the rich and exotic cultural heritage of countries in Asia, it was almost like smelling a whiff of steaming rice doused in enormous amounts of curry powder.

Of course, the anticipation of my Korea trip is to be heavily blamed on the shift of my Hollywood from California to Seoul. My 3-year old fascination with Korean music, movies and TV series could be considered a manifestation of the hanryu (Korean Wave) currently invading the entirety of Asia (take for instance My Sassy Girl, Tagalog version).

Sue, Em and Kate (the frequent spammer in my shoutbox in the sidebar of this blog) told me I could finally get to wear my shirts in layers. I have always liked doing that but it gets too warm here that it becomes uncomfortable. And I have always had a penchant for turtlenecks...I can wear them there without feeling sweat rolling down my nape and back,

An indication of my lunacy would be the fact that my dad (my travel partner this time) was surprised that I knew so much about the place more than he did, especially since I was just tagging along for the ride. I was telling him about the places and parks around the area and he was even more dumbfounded to know that I had already pored through a map of the place days before our visa was approved.

Less than a week before my trip, I am still adding a list of things I have to do in Korea. My list so far includes the following:

* Have a picture taken wearing a hanbok.
It was interesting watching Han Ji Hye in Sweet 18 walk around doing house chores while donning the traditional Korean attire.

Getting to wear a hanbok was what my sister was particularly insistent about. What I like most about the hanbok is the material (silk, I think) which makes the dress look soft and flowing. I was wondering why some women wear a hat to match the hanbok while others don't. I would certainly want to try the hanbok with the hat.

* Eat kimchi.
The first time I ate kimchi was in Market! Market! when it was served as a side dish to a chicken barbecue meal my aunt bought me for lunch. With my fork, I picked up a piece of the pickled cabbage and tossed it into my mouth. I did not like what I tasted so I pushed a huge mound of rice into my mouth.

I realized then that kimchi tasted great with rice and the more helpings I had of kimchi, it tasted better. I may be weird but I think I would like it even more if it were served warm, not cold. But then again I cringe at the idea of eating champorado with tuyo so my taste could be ridiculous.

* Watch a movie in a cineplex...WITHOUT SUBTITLES!
The key to understanding Korean movies would be the English subtitles, some of which are made by fans. To complete my cinematic experience, I intend to watch April Snow (if it is still showing there) when I get to Seoul...despite all the negative writeup I have been reading. If not, other choices would be Sympathy for Lady Vengeance and Duelist. Best of luck to me! Need to know if I can have a career in linguistics.

* Go to places where some movies or series have been shot....and keep my eyes peeled for movie stars.
I don't know how big my chances are of getting to see movie stars or singers when I'm there. But then my friend Mich recently saw Freddie Prinze Jr. so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. But I'm hoping I get to go to Lotte World. Mich said that the skating scene in Stairway to Heaven (bottom left) was shot there as well as stills of Kwon Sang Woo and Choi Ji Woo in the carousel...I would want to see that even if I am not a fan of the drama. What has really got me excited though is that I recently learned that two of the places where my ultimate favorite K-serial MISA (bottom right) was shot are conveniently located near the place where I will be staying! ^_^

If only people were still allowed to visit So Ji Sup in the Mapo district office...but that's all right! ^_^

* Visit a Buddhist temple or shrine as well as houses of nobility.
There is always a story behind every temple and shrine...and I would certainly want to know what those stories are. Add that to the fact that art in temples have always been awesome and intricate.

* Get the 411 on tea drinking.
What I understand about tea drinking is that it is not simply concerned with holding a cup of tea and downing it. The entire exercise itself is interesting and relaxing, as if the tea drinkers have all the time in the world to indulge in this activity when the rest of the world seems to be always in a hurry.

* Drink soju in a tent bar.
It is not uncommon to see actors in Korean dramas trying to intoxicate themselves with this alcoholic drink served in transluscent green bottles. For a time we did not know what it was called so Em decided to refer to it as Sprite. And usually they would drink these in tent bars or restaurants with monobloc tables and chairs. I plan to momentarily suspend my self-imposed mortification and have a bottle of soju inside a tent bar. I just need to be sure I'm with someone who can give me a piggyback ride home, given my rather low alcohol tolerance level.

Lee Dong Gun and Kim Jung Eun having a drink of soju in "Lovers in Paris." Kim
has a little too much to drink and is brought home by Lee...piggy-back style.

As I go to Korea, I carry with me a mission from my friends which I fear I could not do. I have been tasked to bring back Lee Dong Gun, So Ji Sup, Won Bin, Kwon Sang Woo, Kim Rae Won, Go Soo and Jo In Sung...I cannot seem to figure out how I could make them fit inside my luggage without their limbs dangling out of my bag. Any ideas?

Farewell to a Champion

One of the things I hate about sleeping over in my sister's dormitory room is that I miss the news. I developed a habit of watching the news when as a high school sophomore, my high school Asian history teacher would give a pop quiz on current events in almost a weekly basis. Since the latest single at the top of the MTV Charts was not considered current events, I would almost always be assured of landing a zero (or a 1 or 2 if I'm lucky) during such pop quizzes that I finally decided it was time to read the other parts of the newspaper aside from the Entertainment and Comics sections as well as regularly tune in to "The World Tonight" before I go to sleep.

Two days ago, I was helping my sister with her homework while trying to tabulate the results of a survey I was doing for my thesis. I forgot to turn on the radio and listen to the simulcast of the 6 o'clock news. I ended up missing something very important.

When I called my mom in the morning, she said to me "Haydee Yorac is dead." My still half-asleep brain suddenly came alive, the zombie-like neurons sparking with life at the mention of the name. All I managed to muster was an "Ahay," complete with my trademark Ilonggo cadence, perhaps one of my few commonalities with the late government icon.

Losing someone like Haydee Yorac would definitely elicit some sort of reaction similar to mine - a drooping head, downcast eyes, a grim mouth, all punctuated with a heavy sigh, as if losing someone or something of dire importance. Yes, losing Haydee Yorac was like dropping a prized samurai to a precipice of infinity, saying goodbye to the sword whose razor sharpness could easily cut through the diaphonous fabric of lies which deceptively strangle the government and the bureaucracy into absolute paralysis.

I was 11 when I first knew about Haydee Yorac. I remember I was in the airport to fetch two cousins who came for a visit. One of them went up to my mom and breathlessly told her that they were in the same flight as Haydee Yorac. My mother excitedly reacted to the news while I sat in the backseat of the car, trying to shake my head like a glass paperweight, the type with the white flaky things swirling in the middle. Finally I got the courage to interrupt their conversation and asked "Who's Haydee Yorac?" The three of them turned to me as if I had committed the gravest sin in the world, enough to land me in the pits of hell with Judas, Cassius and Brutus (if Dante were to be believed). My cousin said "You don't know Haydee Yorac?" That's what happens when you're 11 years old and all you watch is MTV and Cartoon Network. I shook my head and my mother was about to launch into her whole narration of Yorac's past and achievements when my cousin said "There she is!" I poked my head out of the car and shifted my glance to the mass of heads swirling about near the airport entrance. I saw a woman dressed in purple with big, curly hair in the middle of the crowd with sunglasses over her eyes. That was the only time I had seen her in person and I will never ever forget her face - hard and worn, strong, fearless with an air of confidence, but not haughtiness, about her.

In the midst of the chaos and political instability surrounding PGMA's tenure as President of the Philippines, she said that our government has been so besmirched in a swamp of corruption that once you decide to join its ranks, it is fairly difficult to keep yourself clean. I will never forget that since I was eating dinner in Em's house in Laguna and I abandoned my half-eaten plate to hear PGMA quote those overused words from the Bible "Let him who has no sin cast the first stone."

At that time I was consumed by my anger at the audacity of PGMA to attempt to pull the entire bureaucracy with her under the spotlight of allegations that she rigged the 2001 presidential elections that I forgot to mention that someone was actually worthy of casting the first stone smack in GMA's mole. Haydee Yorac's life is proof that there is indeed such a thing as principle, that it is still very much possible to stand up for what you believe in, that right can still prevail in a society which seemingly favors the wrong. She chose to work directly in government of all places, the seat of bedlam and the hive of thieves in the guise of serving society. She was driven by her search for truth and justice and she truly lived up to the name of her title as head of Presidential Commission of Good Government. She was not concerned with minor projects. In fact she dealt with controversial issues such as the Marcos ill-gotten welath and the coconut levy funds and she scored victories with them, never mind the scale. But the point is, she was a true definition of a public servant, one who worked for the good of the people and one who tried to deliver what the government owed the Filipino people. And most of all she refuted the cliched claim "If you cannot lick them, join them." If a government official like her could live up to such rigorous standards of truth and morality, there should be no reason that the President herself cannot do so, especially if she takes to heart her mandate to serve the needs of the Filipino people before anything - and anybody - else.

I told my mom that we are slowly losing good people to the sickle-bearing goth dude. People like Haydee Yorac cannot fight our battles for us for all eternity. In fact, the reason that people like them only seem to go as far as making a small dent or two in the thick metal encasing the enemy is that we ourselves have consented to thinking that the enemy, no matter how evil it is, is the norm and we just have to go ahead and accept that. That is a dangerous precondition which could twist the societal values which govern our daily lives. Evil is never to be accepted; it is always to be shunned and rejected. It is people like Haydee Yorac who have raised the bar and have tried to present us with a new standard to pursue and live by. Skeptics may ridicule this and say this is a dream, not a sense of reality, rather, an illusion.. But Haydee Yorac was a real person and hers was a real life. Is this then not reality?