Summer in November

My friends Anna and Em planed in from Manila for a visit during the sem break. Anna carried with her a list of things to do. One of the items she failed to write down was to go to Boracay. Naturally, we could not let them pass up an opportunity to go to one of the hottest beaches in the world! Thus we donned our swimsuits in November and pretended we were soaking up the summer sun. There really was not much difference - it was pretty hot in Boracay!

Feeling photographer: One of the first shots I took upon our arrival.

When I was there, I started drawing up my own list: What's Crazy and Crappy about Boracay.

What's Crazy:

Tattoos

Anna and Em got temporary henna tattoos on their ankles. The tattoo artists usually charge a hundred pesos for a tattoo but Anna and Em got them for only half the price. Anna had to have hers redone about twice since she kept on messing it up. By the time she was done with her second retouch, the tattoo artist was asking for her name.

I also wanted to get a tattoo on my nape. I was browsing through their catalogue and found a dolphin design I wanted. I later on decided against it. I might be barred from the school entrance gates when the new semester begins.

There is this one place in Station 1 where they have glitter tattoos done although they cost much more and last for a lesser period of time than henna tattoos.

Dressing Down

In normal circumstances, when you go out of the house to go somewhere, you have to put on newer clothes. In Boracay, I brought mostly old shirts and shorts and no one cared whether I looked like I had just gotten out of bed or what. On our second day in Boracay, we went swimming at 9. By lunchtime, I just put on my high school jersey over my bathing spot and tied my soggy hair in place with a scrunchie. I waddled around the place, visiting shops and sitting by the beach, in the same getup and no one seemed to mind.

Nothing beats lying on a hammock by the beach at 10 PM.

Banana Boat Ride

Banana Boat Rides in Boracay cost 200 pesos per person. The ride lasts for 15 minutes. It's not cheap but the money seems pretty worth the adventure, especially since when you get in the middle of the water, the drivers can turn over the banana boat so that everyone gets dumped into the water. However Doi, Anna and Em were not particularly keen about that even if we were wearing life jackets. So we pretty much stayed 40% dry during the ride.

While we were being pulled around during the ride, another banana boat was out in the open with us. I could only watch with envy as the riders of that banana boat screamed their lungs out when they fell into the water. I promised myself that when I go back, I'll try the Flying Fish although it costs a little bit more at 500 pesos per person. Just add a little bit more and I get two Kitche Nadal CDs.

Sand castles

At night, Doi, Anna, Em and I would go out for a walk along the beach. We spotted sand castles and other sand art created by children no more than 10 years old. I was pretty envious. I could not make a simple sand castle myself and second graders could create structures like these!

Anna, Doi and I with the really cool sandcastles.

While I was looking at the sand castles, I suddenlt had an image of Chen Ling and Qi Luo walking down a beach, hand in hand, after they both had built a huge sand castle. Qi Luo told Ling that when the tide came, the sea would have washed the sand castle away. Ling then compared sand castles to dreams. Dreams get shattered once in a while but like sand castles, they can always be rebuilt and the new ones are always different from their predecessors. And like sand castles, dreams become much more fun and memorable when they are built with another person.

The kids who worked on the sand castles usually did so in pairs. Maybe as they toiled under the heat of the sun, I'd like to think they had other things in mind that they believed they could shape into anything they wanted, just like the sand on their hands.

Swimming

This has got to be a no-brainer. After all, Boracay is an island. Who can resist the feeling of fine, white sand between their toes? Or the smell of the sea? And most especially a refreshing dunk in cool, crystal clear water?

How can you say no to this? Doi herself has difficulty doing so!

I have never been alien to the beach since I've always lived near the coast but Boracay has always been a favorite hideaway. As my mom whispered when we got there "I've been here in several occasions but Boracay never fails to leave me at awe every time." I was half-listening to her words since I myself was caught in my thoughts. I was restraining myself not to just jump over the side of the boat. The water seemed to whisper, siren-like "Come to me!"

After seeing this pic, my mom once more contemplated how she would look like in a bikini.

When we did get to swim, the feeling was unexplainable. The last time I had taken a dip in the waters of Boracay was the day after my senior prom in high school. Lately, most of the swimming I have been doing has been pool-related. Swimming in one of the best tropical beaches in the world was something I sorely missed. I missed getting tossed by the waves. I missed licking my lips after a dive and getting bits of salt and sand. I missed feeling sticky. I missed looking around and seeing miles and miles of water.

Trying to pass ourselves off as Japanese tourists.

On our second day we went boating. My mom requested the boat driver to stop in the middle of the sea so that we could jump off and swim around. I dove into the water sans my life jacket and it was the most exhilarating feeling ever! My friends joined me, including Anna who was pretty scared of the water simply because she declared she sucked at swimming.

See Anna? It ain't too late for swimming lessons!

What's Crappy:

Food

Boracay is not particularly well known for its food. I have tasted better cuisine somewhere else. If I remember correctly, the only gastronomic delight I particularly enDoied there was balut.

Dollar rate

Staying in Boracay would cost a lot. Buy junk food and softdrinks in mini marts found in the Caticlan terminal because it is cheaper there.

Escort service

The second time I went to Boracay was when I was around six years old. I was with my grandmother and my older cousins. One of the things I distinctly remember was the sight of about four or five Caucasian women roasting themselves with the sun's ultraviolet rays dressed...er...lesser than usual. Now this apparently has been banned in Boracay much to my relief.

However one thing which has not changed is the escort service offered by some Filipinas to foreign guests. It was not a rare sight to see a tall white man between 50 to 60 years with older with his arms draped around a small, sun-kissed Filipina or, in some cases, Filipinas. Whenever we would see things like this, Doi and I would look at each other with eyes narrowed, surmising how foreigners now have a new name to associate with Filipinas. By the time we left Boracay, Doi and I had agreed one of the things that these foreigners had lost was the power of discernment. These words mean more than what they seem to convey.

Here's a little story: One morning when I woke up, my mom told me that during the night, something happened in a house near the one we slept in. Fighting eruped between a couple. The girl was Filipino and the guy was obviously foreign. By the sound of the yelling, the screaming and the crashing, a fight had erupted characterized by both verbal and physical blows. The girl received most of it.

The way I see it, prostitution in Boracay should be examined by the Aklan LGUs. If this should go on unguarded, the reputation of the Filipina would suffer greatly. We raised up in arms when a dictionary associated the word "Filipina" with "maid." I do not want to see a time wherein we would have to bellow because we Filipinas are to be made synonymous with the flesh trade. As I saw one scantily clad Filipina after another walk side by side with a foreign patron in Boracay, I was filled with absolute rage and utter helplessness. I felt angry because the Filipina's dignity was of very little worth. I felt helpless because their main reason for doing so is persistent, permeating and seemingly infinite. The reason of lack, however, is never enough justification for degradation of character, morality and respect. I may be hit for being idealistic or self-righteous but I would want to walk down the street and know that every person I meet respects me, and every Filipina they encounter. Believe me or not but I do know what I'm talking about.

My dad and sister were pretty jealous when they saw these pics of mom and me.


I'm sorry if you're jealous. That wasn't my intention.

A Little Bit Overdue

As much as possible, there should be no category when it comes to friends. This idea is utopic in the sense that it really cannot be helped. You get to meet a lot of people in your life and some of them may remain mere acquaintances while others become more than that. Others get to be so close to you that being friends sometimes is not enough to describe the relationship.

One of my best friends is Doi. In one of my previous entries, I mentioned that in the previous summer, she spent more time hatching shrimp than with me and our other friends. Doi is pretty much like any other person. She enjoys a good laugh and enjoys eating, despite her small frame. Music, movies and TV are a given for her. She does not walk sideways and has a pretty close relationship with her mother (what an understatement).

However Doi is not just any other person. Doi stays clear of coffee and counts on numerous glasses of water to keep her awake. She sleeps with a pillow or blanket on top of her head. She likes to wear black. Her radio is always tuned to NU107. One word which can never be used to describe her would be "cute" and one word which would fit her well would be "sarcastic." The speed of her eyeball movement is unbroken. She's a frustrated guitarist. She's quiet only when she's mad. She's highly opinionated and irrepressible. She's smart in all aspects - from the classroom down to the basic rules of the street. And most of all, she is the strongest person I know.

I'm not going to lie and say that the first time I met her, we immediately clicked and bonded that in a matter of days we knew all the slumbook details about each other and even formulated some sort of secret handshake. We actually did not get along at first. Just call it a classic Physics phenomenon of "like poles repel." Perhaps one of the greatest miracles is how we became friends. In high school we did our thesis together along with our friend Sue. During discussions, our arguments would rival Miriam Defensor's temperament that our thesis adviser once told us "Could you three please talk outside? You're giving me a heart attack."

The key to Doi's strength is that she has experienced the rudiments of life at an early age. In one of those nights wherein we sat at the dinner table and just chatted about the mundane and the sublime, the trivial and the profound, we concluded that if her life (even just at 21) would be the subject of such dramatic shows such as "Maalalaala Mo Kaya" or "Magpakailanman," the actress portraying her would have won an acting award. But what makes her amazing is the fact that she accepts and moves on. You may think "What is so amazing about that?" Well when you count the number of people all over the world who have either entered a mental asylum or committed suicide, I think I've made my point. Doi is driven by her faith, her love for her mother and her desire to become someone better. For all these reasons and more, I'm glad that she's my friend and I'm proud of what she has achieved.

Last September, Doi passed the Chemistry Licensure Exam. I have seen for myself how hard she worked for this examination. As the old saying goes "God helps those who help themselves." Once I was driving my Lola to thoe hospital and we passed by her school. I almost hit the car in front of me coz I was too busy pointing the banner out to my Lola.

Doi on the day we learned she passed the board exam.

I'm Saying a Little Prayer

It's not easy having children whether it involves bearing them or raising them. I read Sylvia Plath's Bell Jar on the plane home during the start of the sem break. Instead of the usual effervescence and jubilation, Plath's description of childbirth was filled with rancor and brutality. Plath writes with unmatched precision but her only flaw was in her failure to see that the beauty of childbirth came from a mother's willingness to bear the discomfort, the pain and the burden all for the sake of an unborn child.

My tita texted me today that my cousin Cheryl is having pregnancy problems. She is about six months into the family way and is in danger of delivering her twins prematurely. I do not want her to lose her babies because I know how much she and her husband George want to be parents. They mean the world to her and I know she would do anything just so they could stay alive and be delivered normally.

My entire family and I are praying for Cheryl. As Romans 8:28 says "The Lord works for the good of those who love Him." He works for the good of all of us, most especially for Cheryl and George. But His reasons for the way He works may or may not be obvious. We can always bank on His promise of faithfulness and He always knows how to turn a tear into a smile, defeat into victory and grief into happiness.

Acknowledgement: Photos taken from the official website of Anne Geddes (annegeddes.com).

Got Hit By Flying Daggers

For the past two weeks, I have been pining for just one movie: House of Flying Daggers (Shi Mian Mai Fu). The movie opened during my exam week last semester. As I rode the train day after day, I saw the same poster of a stern looking Zhang Ziyi stare at me and I wanted to make a mad dash for the moviehouse.

Upon arriving home, when I learned that "House of Flying Daggers" had yet to hit local theaters in my part of the country, I almost did some Fred Astaire shoe flicking in the middle of the mall. For almost a week now, I have been clamoring like a little girl that I want to see that film...testing my mom's patience and my dad's eardrum tenacity. "What are you excited about this film anyway?" asked my mother. I'd then babble in an endless string but the only constant words heard would definitely have to be Zhang Zi Yi.
My sister and I have been fans of Zhang Zi Yi for a long time. She is the only Asian actress I like more than Zhao Wei. Before "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," I already knew of Zhang thanks to her debut movie, "A Road Home." Of course, I enjoyed watching Rush Hour 2 because of her kicks and punches and I sort of got tight-lipped when she played a less prominent role in Hero...of course after a little contemplation, to star alongside Asian bigwigs like Tony Leung, Maggi Cheung and THE Jet Li (my first Chinese boyfriend) was already a feat rarely seen in someone who has more fingers than movies to her name.

I had seen the trailer of "House of Flying Daggers" by accident. My sister was channel surfing and when she chanced upon AXN, Zhang Zi Yi's face flashed on the screen. She froze and set the remote down. A few seconds later when the trailer showed her dance sequence in the Peony Pavilion, I thought aloud "That can't be Andy Lau, can it?" Moments later, my sister was mumbling "Manang, who's Takeshi Ken-shr-o? He's cute." That pretty much got us hyped up to watch out for the movie.
This actually was not the first time I heard of Takeshi Kenishiro. Last summer, I spent a considerable amount of time strengthening my hyperextended calf muscles by doing some cycling with my friend Sue. I especially enjoyed doing that since she lived near the beach and our bike route always gave us a fair view of the sea. In one of those trips, our friend Dang joined us and while we ate cashew nuts in Sue's house, waiting for the sun to set a bit until it was not too hot to bike, Dang asked us "Have you people heard of Takeshi Kenishiro? He's supposed to be the ultimate Asian hunk." I raised an eyebrow and Sue did the same thing. "Ultimate in what sense?" Dang then went on to explain that Takeshi was touted as the ultimate Asian hunk because he was 1/3 Chinese, 1/3 Japanese and 1/3 Korean. Sue and I looked at each other with puzzled glances. Dang's math made a heck lot of sense but as we racked our brains, we could not figure out exactly how he got that percentage from each race. How much did he get from whom? Come to think of it, I was never really good with fractions or Math even. What I get from Internet sites is that Kenishiro was born in Taiwan but was of Taiwanese-Japanese parentage.
As for Andy Lau, he's pretty much a household name in my side of the world...well, in my opinion, that is.

The cast of "House of Flying Daggers" with Director Zhang Yimou: Takeshi Kenishiro, Zhang Zi Yi and Andy Lau.

When the opening credits of the film began to appear on screen, I was almost out of my wits with excitement and my dad was pestering me to buy him popcorn. When the first lines were spoken by a couple of soldiers to Captain Leo (Andy Lau) and his partner Captain Jin (Takeshi Kenishiro), my dad muttered under his breath "You didn't tell me this was not dubbed in English!"
Captains Leo and Jin are members of the police force. Set during the decline of the Tang Dynasty, the present emperor's reign is beset by trouble in the form of renegade groups which aim to destabilize the government. Makes you think that times do not change indeed. One of the most powerful revolutionary groups is the House of Flying Daggers. They believe that the government is insufficient in its attempts to address the needs of society, especially when it comes to the poor. Ala Robin Hood, they "steal from the rich to give to the poor." Again much like the present scenario, though in our time and age, the rich steal from each other to make themselves richer. The poor are forgotten.
Being one of the greatest threats to the present administration, the police concentrate most of their energies on toppling the House of Flying Daggers. They manage to kill the leader of the group but a new one is selected among their ranks as quickly as the former one's life was snuffed out. Leo and Jin believe there could be no more opportune time to strike than this when the House is still reeling from a near fatal blow. Intelligence reports reach their ears that the new showgirl at a brothel called The Peony Pavilion is the daughter of the slain leader of the House of Flying Daggers. This girl named Mei (Zhang Zi Yi) was a dancer who entranced the Peony Pavilion's numerous guests with her exotic dances despite the fact that she was blind. Leo and Jin decide to capture Mei and plan to force her to reveal to them the hideaway of the House of Flying Daggers.
Despite torment, Mei refuses to speak. Leo concocts another plan. He disguises Jin as a wandering warrior called Wind who chances upon the captive Mei and decides to rescue her. Wind has to earn Mei's trust so that she can bring him to the hideout of the House of Flying Daggers. Leo, on the other hand, lies in the shadows and waits for the right moment to strike. On this journey, the fiery Mei and the free-spirited Wind find themselves falling for each other but both are wary that lies lace the growing attraction between them.

Leo warns the younger Jin: "Don't ruin our plan by turning a game into reality." Jin retorts with a sly grin, "Who cares as long as the plan works."

Once more, Zhang Yimou's "House of Flying Daggers" was a perfect work of visual poetry. The storyline in itself is not fantastic nor extraordinary but the execution is breathtakingly flawless. Zhang Yimou created a stunning tableau of elaborate costumes, striking cinematography, precise choreography and of course, intense music.
Having seen and enjoyed "Hero," I naturally embraced "House of Flying Daggers" in the same way. Zhang Yimou particuarly enjoys experimenting with colors and seasons that in the course of watching the movie, I envision him as a painter with artwork similar to the ones created by Jackson Pollock. The camera angles particularly capture breathtaking scenes of wide fields surrounded by forests at the edges which come in shades of green, red and orange. He also adds more movement and dynamism by employing the different seasons from refreshing spring to downright cold winter. Putting the shades of nature and human emotion together results in such awesome imagery which is rarely seen in films nowadays. The movie is filled with movement whether it be in the swaying of a blade of grass, the unfurling of pure silk, the fury of a snowstorm, the flight of an arrow, the bending of bamboo, the clashing of swords and even the slow cascade of a single tear from brimming eyes.

Mei dances for male customers in the Peony Pavillion.

As in any of her movies, Zhang has never failed to impress me. I've always thought of her as an iron butterfly. Her swift movements are tempered by grace. Portraying a blind warrior, her blank stares devoid of expression are easily superceded by the intense passion exhibited by the rest of her face and her body movement. The contrasting characters of Kenishiro and Lau complement each other. Lau is quiet and brooding. His movements are sure and refined, contributing to a more mature nature evident in Leo. The much younger Kenishiro is playful and reckless, giving Jin temper and turmoil characterized by youth. In contrast to the serious and controlled Leo, Jin acts much like his bow and arrow, shooting in any direction with ferocity and power. Looks like Legolas has finally found his match.

Andy Lau is the shrewd and cunning Leo.

Takeshi Kenishiro (Jin) tries to figure out how to get out of this mess.

The imagery employed so ruthlessly in the film speaks much about the nature of Asian culture - the delicate intertwining of fact and fiction, history and legend. While watching the movie, my parents must have said "Sobra naman 'to" too many times that if they were turned into electoral votes, they could figure prominently in the US election. Exaggeration is a trademark particularly of Chinese films but this is once more a unique representation of the culture of Asia. Watching a movie such as "House of Flying Daggers" brings into life the beauty of storytelling, where not only words are given importance but also imagination. It is evident that Asians have always banked on the amazing expanse of the human imagination and artistry. Our legends speak of this, our structures stand as testament and our art has become the eternal mouthpiece. The intricacies of Asian civilization have resulted to an extricable link between the world we see and the world we want to see. The West might sometimes view this as escapist but Asians always find reasons to take pride in their identity, especially when it has to do with beliefs and traditions deeply ingrained in their way of life.
The way I see it, for us Asians, life is one big epic. Our words are whispered through songs in the wind. Our daily hustle and bustle could be translated into graceful choreography. Passion is fire and water. Grief is ice and stone. Legs become wings and eyes become windows. In the end, life becomes a battle, a new day is eternity and every man, the hero.