A Series of Unfortunate Events

I'm always in for a little excitement to spice up my already terrorized life. But too much excitement in a week can be a tad bit too much for my poor little battered heart.
Last week was such a week.
Monday started off pretty well, actually. I was holed up in my sister's dorm, reviewing Oblicon basics because everytime my professor opens his mouth to speak, I only understand half of what he says. The rest of the words come across as Greek...and Spanish, Latin and some Parseltongue. I just knew I was going to be in trouble if I don't resolve the muddle in my head.
On Tuesday, I woke up pretty early to meet up with some classmates. We were going to review some of the basic Oblicon concepts which made me feel relieved somewhat, even if it was just for a teeny percentage. We were going to make some noise in the library so I asked them if they wanted to study in the apartment where I live near our school and they agreed to do so.
Now I love my apartment because it's such a small place yet very cozy. It was a good find actually because it did not cost much to rent the place. My little room in the second floor lets just enough sunlight in and has this old attic feel. In one end of the room, the ceiling slants and I positioned my bed under that area so as to conserve space and because there is a window by the junction where the slant meets a rather short strip of a wall before hitting the floor. Every morning, when I sleep through my alarm clock (which I always do), the birds outside my window wake me up.
I vividly remember the sight that greeted me when I laid my feet on the steps which led to my apartment. All the windows were flung open like outstretched arms. I thought our helper was inside but I could hear no signs of activity. I called her name as I moved towards the front door. I held the doorknob and realized that it was unlocked but the door was shut because the deadbolt was still fastened. Feeling rather ominous now, my eyes caught something black sticking out of the window like a garter snake. Moving closer, I realized that the black thing was the rubber strip that held the window screen in place. That was when I realized that the screen had been slashed open. It now hung by the remaining hinges like a tongue lolling out of an open mouth.
Someone had tried to break into my apartment when I was with my sister during the weekend.
Bryan put his arm through the window and tried to open the doorknob but he couldn't reach it. It seemed like the would-be criminal thought of that as a way to get the door open. Come to think of it, what would he carry away if he had succeeded in entering my apartment? The only thing of value inside would be my small TV, my sister's radio and the refrigerator if he would succeed in bringing it outside. Other than that, he can help himself to my plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes and even my case readings.
A survey of the place revealed that nothing was missing, nothing had been stolen. Even the laundry which hung on a clothes line by the open windows had been spared. By the end of the day, the window screen was fixed and reinforced and I was curled up on the floor, at the foot of my bed, thanking God for blessing the would-be criminal with short arms.
Wednesday was a bit more laid back but the thought of the attempted break-in was still gnawing at my mind. While writing digests, I watched the guys take the stage in AI6 and was pretty happy to see them back in form. My favorite among the guys was Blake Lewis although I would agree with Randy and Simon that he did sound too much like Jamiroquai except for the beatboxing interlude. I most definitely did not agree with all the praise-heaping for Chris Richardson. He sounds like Justin Timberlake on high pitch and he has a tendency to be eaten up by the background, shaved head and all. As for Sanjaya Malakar, the soothing voice makes a great listen...when my eyes are closed. When I open my eyes to look at him, all that evaporates. He moves around the stage with some awkward stiffness devoid of spontaneity. Of course, some remnant of nationalistic pride bubbled within me as I watched AJ Tabaldo perform and the bubbling became vigorous popping when he got heaped all sorts of praises courtesy of the judges. The popping would be transformed to vigorous simmering come Friday night when AJ got booted out rather unfairly, in my opinion.
I proceeded to watch the ladies Thursday night but not before I slipped and stumbled on the middle of the street in the afternoon (still could not figure out how that happened) as I walked towards the gate of my apartment, arms full with my backpack and books. I was in my house shorts and I landed on my right knee to stop myself from falling flat on the road. That would be the first time in about seventeen years that I scraped my knee. I later got a text from my mother, telling me that Dr. Luisa Pollentes had died of complications due to cancer. I believe she was in her 30s. She was one of my sister's good friends and former ballet teacher. The news left my sister in a mess that night.
Friday morning left me feeling a bit groggy with just three hours of sleep but with Melinda Doolittle's rendition of "My Funny Valentine" still ringing in my ears. I had studied (and did my handwritten notes for FIVE canons) for my Leg Prof class because of a gut feeling (which was usually right) that I was going to be called. Consti, my first period class, was given second priority because I had already been called exactly a week before.
In class, one of my girl classmates was called to discuss Soliven vs. Makasiar, a case I digested for the class digest pool. There was a rather curious question fielded which left the class bewildered. He called on my other classmates one by one and each one who was called begged off, saying he had not read the case. I could detect a hint of exasperation on his voice already when he asked "Did anybody read the case?" Uh-oh. There was an agreement in the class that we had to take responsibility for the case we digested so even if my arms and legs were objecting violently, I raised my hand and stood up to face a question the answer to which seemed to dwell on one of the rocks which make up the rings of Saturn.
After what seemed like eternity, I was told to sit so I went back to reviewing for Leg Prof while keeping one ear on alert just in case I get called again. When my classmate who was reciting was finally done, all of the guys in the class became fidgety, anticipating that, as tradition dictates, one of them was going to get called next.
All of the screws in my head came loose when I heard my name loudly spoken in the almost quiet classroom. I looked up from my notebook to meet my professor's gaze as he asked me "Would you like to continue the discussion?" Uh...duh! NO!
I know it took me an eternity to answer "Yes, sir." All of a sudden, I had to muster all my strength just to push myself off the table into a standing position. As my teacher went through the reading list, I motioned to my seatmate Joey (my saviour), asking if I could borrow her copy of the digests for some of the cases which she placed in front of me. I began to furtively flip through the pages with cold, shaking hands while sarcastically telling myself "So much for thinking you won't get called."
It was like being forced into an arranged marriage, meeting your potential lifemate for the first time. I was seeing these cases for the first time too! I badly needed a whack in the head and hands around my shoulders to shake me into my senses.
"Okay, let's discuss Borjal vs. CA."
Borjal? Glub glub glub...I was sinking in the mire - FAST! If I mess up and my teacher erupts like a volcano, spewing red hot lava to the whole class thanks to my non-eloquence, there would be no one to blame but me and my non-existent clairvoyance.
I noticed that the petitioners were the late Art Borjal and the late Max Soliven, two columnists for the Philippine Star. When I mentioned Borjal's name, my teacher then launched into telling the class about his physical incapacity and how he died. I took advantage of that time just to skim through the digests. In the back of my mind, I whispered in a rush "Lord, help me, please. If I mess up, the professor will certainly blow his top this time. I swear this will never happen again. I'll never be caught unprepared next time."
I never did get to finish reading the digest but during my recitation for that case, and for two cases following that, I would glance into the digest every once in a while and for one reason or another, my eyes would always fall on the key words in every paragraph. I don't know where the words came from and how I managed to say what I said but the entire process seemed almost free-flowing like an open faucet.
Finally when I was done and asked to take my seat, I returned the digests to Joey, thanking her for saving me and I uttered a silent prayer, thanking God for staying true to His promise that He will provide in instances which do not even involve food. But I made an urgent mental note and virtually spanked myself for coming to class unprepared. I promised myself there will never be a next time.
And just a thought, I never did get called for LegProf.
***************
Finally Jepoy's mama posted the first couple of pictures of my newest niece Patricia Aimee. Trish looks just like her "kuya" Jepoy! Such cuteness!

For the Love of Yeats

Note: I wrote this Thursday night but never did get to post it. I was in a great Valentine's Day gathering last Friday where Enchang Kaimo gave a powerful testimony, I decided to post this here.

Now that it's Thursday and all the bruhaha about love and Valentine's Day has dissipated, I figured today should be the best time ever to write about it for two reasons: first, the Valentine's Day mania is headed downhill so I doubt if anybody would be interested in my attempt to be...er...touchy-cheesy and second, matters of the heart are always given serious thought.

People might think that Valentine's Day is only for couples and those who are in relationships. Single people are almost immediately viewed as Valentine's Day scrooges who, as a local newspaper writer so humorously put it, spend the Day of Hearts holed up in their couches eating chips while watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy. For my part, I was holed up in my couch, in between case readings, watching a snowy reception of American Idol just to see who would make Top 24. But, like what I told another friend of mine, Valentine's Day is also a day to celebrate being single - if we were to stretch the concept a little bit. They say Valentine's Day is all about love. I am not sure if many people would realize this but single people have a whole lot of lovin' going around actually. They see love in a different way, I believe - love for family, love for friends, love for the Creator, love for simply being alive.

Em and I were on our way home from Paranaque about a month ago. We were stuck in traffic which was a good thing since we could talk about a lot of things and not worry about getting into a vehicular accident. She told me that she never realized until now how good it felt to be unattached at our age (yep we're nearing our mid-20s), that we could engage in a variety of activities as much as you can and, in the process, get to know and help other people while also getting to know yourself a lot better in a whole new perspective. I was then immediately launched into a time warp back to that one day when I was in my grandfather's office with two second cousins who I will call G and S. G is in her late 20s and my grandmother was especially astounded by the fact that at her age, G had remained unattached and had the prospect of settling down farthest from her mind. My grandmother kept on calling her a spinster which got all of us snickering - until she pointed to S and me and told us we were headed that way too.

Timing has always been of the essence in almost anything. For instance in a musical score, all the notes are played one after another in a sequence, each note being given a special designation at some point in time when it should be played. If there were no such thing, all the notes would be dumped in a heap, each getting played in a wanton matter. The result? Pure, unadulterated musical disaster to put it lightly.

Falling in love and being in a relationship with somebody has to enter the picture at the right time also. It saddens me to see that some people I know are in a relationship because of the wrong reasons like, for instance, because the environment seems to dictate that people at this point in time or at this age should be in such a relationship.

Like what Em said, being single is just great, to put it simply. I am sometimes astounded by the time I have in my hands right now and the myriads of things I can do with it like study (boring!), go grocery shopping with my mom, buy an ice cream with dad at midnight, meditate, read a good book, remove weeds from the yard, help out in the office, learn guitar on my own, write, play with my nieces and nephews, join a small group, serve in church in any way, watch a movie with my sister, spring clean my room, laugh it up with my grandparents, teach, figure out CSS, attempt to declog the sink, take pictures, clean the car, talk with a friend I have not conversed with in a long time, sing in the shower, bike with a couple of friends, etc. The list is endless. Such things give me my happiness and my fulfillment that I desire for nothing else at the moment. It's like what one of my good friends (who has been in a pretty good and strong relationship for a number of years) said to me: "To each his own. You find fulfillment in what you do, I find fulfillment in what I do." I find mine in a smile.

When I was fourteen and in my sophomore year in high school, one of my afternoon classes was Values Ed. For four years of what could be the best time of my life, I went to a public/secular high school so any religion class was prohibited but a Values class was in our curriculum to take its place. My teacher Ma'am Ocampo told our class that we should look at such relationships through a long-term perspective, not just for the next couple of months or the next year or couple of years. "You should ask yourself objectively whether you can see that person in your future," she repeated. I remember Sue glancing at me (she sat directy in front of me) and me glancing at Doi (she sat directly behind me) when Ma'am Ocampo said that.

I guess that basically sums up my take on relationships. There is always a perfect timing for everything and waiting is the best part. Being involved with someone in an exclusive relationship takes a lot of commitment and a lot of effort and if you are not willing to give any of that at the moment, you have no right demanding exclusivity from that other person. When you're in a relationship with someone, you give a part of yourself to that person, you share your time and you start to share a part of your life with that person because of the view of...well, what goes beyond next month or next year or three years from now. Being involved with someone and staying committed to that person can be a delightful experience but it is a huge risk in itself that one of my favorite poems, the eternally beautiful He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by W.B. Yeats, makes a perfect fit:

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

A Valentine's Day Like No Other

Valentine's Day 2007, 5:00 PM. A Valentine's Day like no other.

After ten sticks and one bottle, I was lying face-down on my bed, smothered in my pillow and in what could perhaps be the best sleep I have had in days.

That is, ten sticks of isaw and a bottle of iced tea.

The moment I entered campus yesterday, the entire Valentines-y feeling was palpable. A women's org was in brisk business, their wares consisting of flowers and everything chocolate flying off their booth. The classroom was no different. Almost everyone was talking about dates - which had to do with having one, not having one or hoping to have one. There were plans to see "Music and Lyrics" after class, a movie which I had been raring to see ever since the first time I laid eyes on that gigantic billboard of it along EDSA-Greenhills. But I had to pass since I had promised to see it with my own "date" (aka my sister) this weekend. It would be our first movie in months.

After class, some of the "single people" across the aisle where I was seated (Jo, Bryan, Lora and Marge) decided to go out. I decided to pass again since I had been feeling heavy-headed all day. My weekend had been both physically and emotionally draining so I just wanted to get some sleep. On my way out of the school building, I fished out my phone and made a call.

The voice on the other end of the line sounded even more tired than I was.

"Valentine's Day is different this year. At this time last year, we were doing a movie marathon, just like we always do."

Her words stung like a wasp. This year was indeed going to be the start of something totally different.

At 4:00 PM of perhaps the next most anticipated day after Christmas, instead of cringing over the cheesiest chick flicks available on the planet, I was standing in the back of the school building, clad in my favorite blue shirt in an attempt to look cheery while talking to one of my best friends who was on her way home after burying her mother earlier in the day.

Tita Celine, as I fondly called her, died last Friday at around noontime, two weeks after suffering from a stroke. I was in my third floor classroom, reviewing for my last class that day. I checked my phone to see that Banana had texted me, asking if she could call. My teacher was unusually late but I did not want to take the call since she might come bursting in at any minute, spot me with a phone on hand and call my attention. I asked her to call me at around 4 PM, when I am sure my class would end. She did just that and I was alarmed to find out that her mother had a stroke. I could not believe it. A few days before, Tita Celine and I were texting each other like we always do. Ever since I entered law school, she would frequently send me messages of encouragement which always seemed to come at the time when I was feeling worn out and tired. Once, one message really hit home, I had to text back, "Thank you, Tita. I really needed that." Then she replied, "Alam ko, kayang-kaya mo yan."

Em and I went to the hospital the next day and we made our way to the Acute Stroke Unit. The first person I saw inside the room was Banana's younger brother, Pau. I tentatively approached the room and saw Tita Celine. She was intubated and her eyes were closed. A monitor was attached to her and I found myself screaming inside my head "This cannot be happening." The last time I saw her, she was doing great. Her gentle voice rang inside my head and her trademark sweet way of saying my name. Moments later, Banana arrived with her boyfriend Marvin. Banana brought me beside her bed and I swear, I was shaking. She tried to coax her mom to wake up, to let her know I was there but Tita Celine slept on. I took Tita Celine's hand in mine. It was swollen slightly but warm. I wondered if she could feel my hand in hers. Banana and I then closed our eyes and I began to pray. In the middle of the prayer, I began to cry.

It was Banana's turn for her "Father Estrada" moment.

The "Father Estrada" moment began in our sophomore year in college. Banana and I could not come up with a better name that is why it is called such. It started on that day I was told that my mom had to undero a hysterectomy in order to remove a myoma that had grown on her uterus. The procedure was risky, given the fact that the last time my mom was opened up, the doctors said that she had severe adhesions. On the day I found out about the decision to open her up, I was harrassed both by schoolwork and my friends who thought I was just being moody. I retreated to the school chapel where Banana went with me. Choking up with tears, I told her what was wrong, including my fear of losing my mother. She bowed her head and prayed for me and when she was done, we both looked up to see that Father Estrada, our freshman theology teacher, had passed us by and was eyeing us both rather curiously. He eventually walked away and just to lighten up the moment, I told her "He's probably wondering who broke up with who."

I saw Tita Celine for the last time a week ago, February 3, Saturday. The week had been literally sleepless because of my Crim midterms. I was nursing the beginnings of a really bad cough which I acquired from trying to catch a few winks in a car the night before, at around the time the "cold wave" hit the country. I had a 3 PM flight to catch because I was going home for the weekend for a double whammy thing - my grandmother's 77th birthday and the inauguration of the new building of the church I attend back home. But I just felt I had to see her before I left, just to see how she was doing. Besides, Banana's father Tito Max was also admitted in the same hospital because of fluctuating BP. I walked into the ACSU just a few minutes before visiting hours would end and I was livened up by what I saw. I did not enter the room but through the open door, I could see that Tita Celine was awake although her eyes were out of focus. She was more conscious now and she was no longer intubated. She looked so pretty and brave lying on her bed I could not stop smiling. It was like being calm in the midst of a storm. I whispered a "Thank you, Jesus" to myself, hope renewed that she would make it through.

Things would get better on Sunday. I got a text from an uber-excited Banana at around 6 PM. Her text read: "Niyakap ako ni Mommy (Mommy hugged me)!" I was so happy for her I could not wait to fly back to Manila and see for myself how much Tita Celine had improved.

Exactly two weeks after Anna informed me that her mom had suffered a stroke came that fateful call. I had two unopened voice messages from Banana so I called her back immediately. The voice on the other end of the line was barely perceptible and all I could hear were her sobs. All she managed to whisper was "Wala na si mommy (Mommy is gone)."

During Tita Celine' interment, I made up my mind not to look at her as she lay on her coffin. Banana prodded me to do so, teasing me that she would get mad if I did not look at the dress she bought for Tita Celine to wear. I told her I couldn't do that, that I had to preserve that last image of her mom in my mind. All of Tita Celine's text messages are still in my phone, in its own special folder that I made before her stroke. During the time she was hospitalized, I unconsciously found myself waiting for her texts and it did not help that Banana would sometimes use her mother's phone to contact me. I was hopeful and anticipating the day I would finally receive a message from her saying something like "Hi, I'm back."

Tita Celine's phone which Anna now uses.

I do not know why Banana and her family chose February 14, the day of hearts, to lay Tita Celine to rest and if they did so on purpose. Thinking about it brought to mind the inscription on the epitaph of Rianne, Em's niece whose life was taken away by leukemia at age 7. This made the choice of February 14 more significant and beautiful. The inscription says "Death does not put an end to love."

On the day of hearts, Tito Max, Banana and Pau made that message loud and clear.
Love transcends death, love is eternal, love remains even when our mortal bodies are no more.

Good Day Coming Up

About three hours earlier, I sat with my butt freezing to numbness inside my second floor classroom. I hate this classroom because the aircon vent (and I am NOT a big fan of aircon) is aimed straight at my face so I usually have my jacket zipped up to my neck as if I were in the Andes whereas my other classmates complain about the room being a bit too warm.

But today I did not seem to mind as I sat on my usual spot, unmindful of the fact that in lieu of my "real lunch" with an occasional extra helping of rice was a hotdog sandwich, tortillas and a few helpings of chichacorn courtesy of Marge. I was CHEERFULLY reading case after case after case and I swear I felt alert. I guess I was just having a good day. Despite three hours of sleep.

Marge and Lora then went into teasing mode. "Kaw ha. Is there something you're not telling us?"

I knotted my forehead. "Uh...my cousins are here?"

Last night, I had dinner with a bunch of relatives from my dad's side of the family, one of his brothers and his sisters and some of my cousins. I see Denise almost yearly (which is cool!) but Jennifer and Stephanie I have not seen in about ten years! Stephanie I barely recognized because she had grown so tall although she was still skinny and gorgeous. Steph is now 22 and is about to earn her degree in music education, I think, whereas Jenn is 24 and now working. Jenn no longer had curly hair but was still as pretty as ever. She's getting married next year to her longtime boyfriend Jonathan, the thought of which has yet to sink in. My cousin's actually getting married?!

After dinner, we sort of overstayed...taking picture after picture after picture. I think we had one taken with just us cousins - Denise, Jenn, Steph, Michael, Joanna, Dorothy and me.

I decided to spend the night with them in my aunt's house in Fairview. We somehow settled spontaneously into the living room like fireflies in the dark - Denise, Jenn, Steph, Michael (who did opted not to go home just yet) and me and we just sat there talking and giggling, talking and laughing, talking and eating "one-year old Pringles." I would glance on my watch every so often, knowing I had cases to pore through upstairs but I could not resist their company. Who could? The thing about my cousins and me is that we do not see each other everyday and we live miles apart but once we're together, it would seem as if we were next-door neighbors. Michael said he was willing to bet I would not be able to study then Steph volunteered that she could help. "I know what mens rea is," she said with her eyebrows raised mischeviously. Denise, who was hearing impaired that night for a reason I would rather not mention (ask Tita Val), thought she heard something else and looked at Steph with disbelief, saying "You did not just say that." Jenn then let out the loudest laugh in the world which got the rest of us snickering...and snickering...and snickering.

Later I had to excuse myself because I really had to study. I heard Michael and Denise fiddling with the gate padlock so I went downstairs to say goodbye. The house was finally quiet so I settled back into reading the last few cases before I was to get some shut eye. Steph walked in to my room to say good night and told me not to study too hard. A little bit later, when I was meditating, Jenn dropped by and gave me a hug. Later, when I had turned down the light, I thought I heard Denise open the door of the room.

Maybe that is why distance does not matter when it comes to my family. We somehow always manage to stay in touch.

Around the World in Less than a Day

The minute the school bell rang at 12 noon yesterday, I dashed out of my 3rd floor classroom as if my feet were on fire. I had been itching to hear that bell ring for two whole hours and now that it did just that, I was all too happy for words. My morning started out just great.
I woke up an hour late that morning, all thanks to a nice chilly morning wind blowing into through my window. I made a mad dash to the bathroom and whisked through my usual ceremonies and breakfast like The Flash who, for those who do not know, was the same actor who played Dawson's father in Dawson's Creek. Whatever.
I got into a taxi right outside my building and requested him to drive me to school. He was cheerier than me which made me feel, well, cheery also. Along EDSA, right before we got to Cubao, cars were piling up on the northbound lane. The cheery cabbie knew a shortcut so he took that route and managed to get me to school with fifteen minutes to spare. That made my "maraming salamat po" all the more worth it.
I did not manage to read all the assigned cases for that day but I was not frazzled because I believed I was not on deck yet. The thing about being in the second semester is that you now know the professor's style for recitations. There were still a couple of people who did were not called for the first round so open season was far from all our minds. So the class's lethargic atmosphere was shattered in silence when our professor called my classmate Giulia to recite. She had already been called for the first round. Forty pairs of eyes ricocheted all over the room in sheer panic. It's open season once again!
I was getting panicky. I HAD ONLY READ UNTIL ROBBERY and not a good deal of reading at that, except for the first half of the articles on that felony! I thumbed through my book nervously, figuring out what I could do. The thing about this is I do not usually come unprepared for class and I am really bad at cramming so I was a virtual wreck. So while I began reading my notes, my teacher began to call out for opinions from my other classmates. I figured out a way to diminish my liability. I actually volunteered for the first time in my one and a half semester stay in law school.
With that thought thrown out the window, I was down the road once again to meet Em in Pasig. A week before, Em and I had received a text from Lei, one of our friends from college and Em's flatmate for five whole years. Lei had a knack for organizing outreach programs for children in depressed areas and she would usually involve us in it. The last one I attended was on December 2005 in a public school somewhere in Mandaluyong. That was our last December in college and I remember we were all discussing our career plans. We somehow made this undocumented promise to still do this after graduation. On my way to meeting Em, I began to think about all of the people who were there on that last outreach activity and what they were doing now. All of a sudden, I began to miss my old university.
I was then on the familiar road to my former school. The corner pastry shop where Em and I used discuss our papers with our Literature professor had now disappeared and a convenience store now stood in its place. The small grocery where I used to down instant cup noodles in between my evening MS classes was nowhere in sight. It was replaced by a new restaurant. The food row and our favorite burger joint across my school were no longer there. In their stead, I saw galvanized sheets, propped up like a mini Trojan wall. All this in two years.
I looked to my right and saw the third floor bay windows of my school where I holed up for five years. By those bay windows were a cluster of phone booths I would use every so often to call my mother whenever I felt depressed or scared. Near the cluster of phones was the fire exit where Anna and I sobbed like banshees in between mutterings of "Pano pa tayo papasa?" when we failed our first exam for Philosophy of the Family.
I looked to my left and saw Em crossing the street. Behind her was a familiar sight - the coffee shop where I had my first and last taste of espresso in a desperate bid to stay alert for my APS exam. It was the same coffee shop where we planned out Anna's surprise 18th birthday party. It was in that coffee shop where I used to meet a bunch of girls from a cellgroup in my school. Somewhere inside that coffee shop was my favorite chair where I would usually sit because it gave the best vantage point for me to spot a professor that I had the biggest crush on almost all throughout college.
Em and I now made our way to Paranaque for the outreach activity. Lei had given us directions on how to get there although Em was stil worried we would not make it there in one piece. Little did we know we were headed for an international tour. Right after we got past SM Bicutan, our around the world adventure began. All the streets there were named after countries and they were not the usual countries, mind you! There were the usual ones like France and Unites States but there were also other streets like Aghanistan, Somalia and Ethiopia. I immediately began to have visions of some beauty pagent where a contestant introduces herself and proclaims in a loud, shrill voice "..and I come from from France...Paranaque!" We made a left in Russia and by the time we were looking for Saudi Arabia, I was just ready to hurl. Em had stopped to ask a guy "Where is Saudi Arabia?" and I was snickering like mad because before I could be smart alecky with her and interject "In the Middle East," she had corrected herself and said "Saudi Arabia Street." Things got even more hilarious when Lei's text said "In Saudi Arabia, go to Wales." Now THAT was new!
We finally realized we made it to a different subdivision when we saw a new set of street names - Felicity, Joy, Happiness.
We should have realized it was a sneak preview of something better.
Lei had asked someone to fetch us because the way to the school calle Sibol was rather tricky. While we stood there, Bundi came bounding towards us. I was glad to see him and he is one of the few guys I know who could say all five sylalbles of Em's three names faster than just saying "Em." Okay, maybe I am exaggerrating a little bit.
We soon made our way to the school which was nestled deep within a squatter's area. We walked past mud, puddles and jagged rocks, barely clothed and barefoot children running around, clothes strung across a clothesline which could swat your face if you were not careful and men without shirts and women in curlers milling around a battered TV set. At some point, we walked past mini vortices of buzzing flies.
Don't get me wrong, I am used to places such as this but a feeling of awe and disbelief never fails to hound me whenever I visit a new area of a similar nature. It's as if a whole new world existed in here, undiscovered and unknown to the outside world. It's as if they were living in a different dimension, just parallel to ours. An hour earlier, I was thinking about pastry shops yet in here, I even doubted if bread, or rice for that matter, often made an appearance on dinner tables. Two hours earlier, I had been interrogated on crimes against property. So what should I make out of this? Crimes against humanity?
The school in Sibol was constructed through the efforts of Gawad Kalinga. Outside, we could hear Lei's voice as she manned the games for the kids. The minute we walked in, we saw faces effusing with the glow of happiness, felicity, joy. Somehow, I was almost back in the world again.
For two hours we had fun with the kids and we enjoyed each other's company - Lei, Em, Bundi, Apol, LJ and me. LJ was in charge of food distribution whereas Em gave out the prizes to the kids who won in the games. Apol snapped pictures here and there. Bundi was in schizoprenic mode - dancing Totoy Bibo one minute and then becoming one of the kids next. I tried to sit on a balloon which did not pop until my third attempt. So I was happy with the thought that could go home and still have that extra helping of rice without feeling guilty about it but even happier that the screams and laughter of 40 kids had somewhat diminished my hearing.

Before going home, we dropped by LJ's place where we had merienda-dinner. She brought out the yearbook and that got all five of us snickering and laughing. The mention of Lei's impending wedding somewhat made us more subdued but it did not last that long anyway. A minute or so later, we were laughing like crazy again. LJ offered to give me one of her cats - an all black half-Siamese which was almost too irresistible but I said I had to talk to my landlady first. I was predominantly a dog person, having had the chance to own a cat only for about a week before it got stolen by the next door neighbor.
On the way home, Em and I enjoyed being stuck in traffic because that gave us more rewinds of the High School musical soundtrack and more time to talk...which should merit its own space in this blog at some point in time...perhaps in February?
That night, as I plopped myself on my sister's bed in her dorm in the other side of the world nursing my sleepy eyes to slumber, I got a text from LJ through Lei: "It's not as exciting as my weekend gimik or poker but leaves you with the same good feeling." I nodded off to sleep, the last thought in my head that today, I had gone around in the world in a record even Phileas Fogg could not beat.