Lazy Afternoons in Siargao


There's this 5km-long beach just a short walk away from where I live.


I bring some essentials and then read or talk to strangers. (Or nap. XD)


The breeze is amazing in the shade of coconuts.


Then a little guy would drop by and say hi.


By sunset the whole place transforms and the water becomes pastel-blue.


That's when I head for a swim... when the sky is lovely.


I float on my back and wait for the darkening night.


...until I visit the following day again.

// Oct 2017

Graffiti in the City: A Bike Tour of BGC


"Wonderland" by Faile // Website // Twitter

A city without art is a city without a soul. While Metro Manila is often identified with slums, floods, smog, and gridlock traffic jams, there's a little breathing space there called Bonifacio Global City (BGC).


"Bear" by Nate Frizzell // Website // Instagram

What had once been a vast military army base with nothing but weeds and a choir of crickets was transformed into an upscale city filled with tall green buildings, recreational parks, outdoor shopping centers, and plenty of sculptures and street art.


"David's Hand" by Bunnie Reiss // Website // Instagram

For the two years that I worked here, I'd bike or walk around different routes just to revisit some the artworks that I admire. (The images are pretty much cleaved in my head by now.) I borrowed a bamboo bike, took it for a spin in the city, and snapped some shots using a borrowed Nikon camera.


"Pangako" by Anjo Bolarda // Behance // Twitter

Since I quit owning stuff, I'm used to borrowing random things from people these days. At least I don't have to earn for the thing, take care of it, and dedicate a special space somewhere to keep it. Clears a lot of mental (and environmental) space, mind, especially when you add them all up. I need to be free; anything else ties a rope around my neck.


"Between the Lines" by Cyrcle // Website // Instagram

Then again, would be nice to have a lightweight Olympus Pen camera which I've been longing (nay, aching) for the past couple of months.XD In the meantime, carrying a borrowed monolithic DSLR is fine. I'm working on growing my forearms while I'm at it.


"Mother Nature" by Dee Jae Pa'este // Instagram

These are by no means the only street art in BGC. I covered only half or even less and have not even seen the new graffiti since the time I left--which gives me a reason to bike again and hunt all visual treasures in the area.


"Manpower" by Kris Abrigo // Instagram

Sure, not everyone appreciates these things. After all, graffiti is in the eye of the beholder. If it's a crime to have painted these, then the artwork becomes even more alluring, if not anarchistic.


"Charlotte" by Nate Frizzell // Website // Instagram

But then again, these pieces have zero political agenda other than to force random passersby to stop and appreciate walls: walls that used to be blank and full of potential. Isn't that how everything begins, empty?


This one is new. I don't know the artist.

While in some parts of Metro Manila, graffiti borders on violence, of walls spraypainted with crude sketches of groins and middle fingers, there still are others that evoke beauty and harmony. For the most part, BGC is free from defacement of buildings, public or otherwise.


"Pop Art" by AKA Corleone // Website // Instagram

Almost all these artworks are sponsored and curated, with artists coming from all over the globe. While the more specific term for these are "murals", their outdoor setting and spontaneous street styles give them more of a graffiti feel than the traditional fine art of wall paintings, such as those seen in the protected interiors of churches, temples, and other religious spaces.


"May You Find Comfort Here" by KFK Collective // Instagram

These art pieces won't last forever, due to weathering, or in some cases, replacement, but their lives will survive in the hearts of us city dwellers, and in the pages of online blogs.


Downing on the Moon. Another new graffiti.

// Sep 2017

Minimalism #2: Ride a Bike!


Alon (translated as "wave") has been with me since 2013.


He's sleek and minimal, with an old school Mongoose frame.


He's made for boys, but the seat works fine for girls like me.


I'd go to work with him back when I had a day job.


If I'm not taking a stroll, I just get lost with Alon in the city.


He's nothing fancy, just functional and beautiful.


With basic brakes and no bike stand, he doesn't ask for much.


An easy ride would do, and some clean up once in a while.


My big brother takes care of him whenever I'm away from home. I miss Alon badly.

// Jul 2017

Mountain Heaven in Mountain Province

I'm in mountain heaven at Mountain Province. The artist who I met in Coron didn't make a mistake to tell me to live here. A tribal drum craftsman and tattoo artist, he's lived in many places, high land and low land, in the Philippines. The only place I know where NOT to live in is Metro Manila, with the exceptions of UP Diliman campus and Bonifacio Global City. Outside the city capital, Sagada, said the artist, is a perfect combination of relaxed atmosphere, chilly weather, indigenous culture, and plenty of mountains, naturescapes, and outdoor activities. Sagada is an ideal playground for nature junkies and introverts like myself.

Sagada is an ideal playground for nature junkies and introverts like myself.

Just like how I came and explored other locales in the country, I've arrived in Sagada alone, without any booking or hotel reservation, without knowing anybody. I just come and dive in like a boss, trusting that the universe will take care of everything else. (Which it usually does!) While I have been here for short trips several times in the past, knowing the soul of a place doesn't take two or three days. I took the advice of other long-term travelers, accustoming myself to living in one location for AT LEAST three months. (And I promise to write more now, since I have electricity!)

On the side note, I have to update my criteria on living in a new destination:

I've been here for only two days, the first day spent just sleeping and recovering from the 12-hour bus and jeep commute from Manila. As soon as I recovered, I haven't stopped wandering. The first two or three days are usually spent familiarizing myself with the town, its streets, vegetable markets, restaurants, transportation routes, and secret nooks for reading, yoga, or just breathing delicious air. And then I'd talk to a dozen people to get a glimpse of their lifestyles and views on which area is best to live in. I checked out two potential places to settle in yesterday, and the first one was just perfect.

What do I mean perfect? Thirty minutes before I set out to look for a room, studio, or apartment, I listed a couple of things in my phone. That this new home is within 15 minutes to the market (so I can prepare my herbivore food XD), has a view of the sunrise, near the forest, mountain, or stream/river, has available drinking water and electricity, has a clothesline, kitchen, and bed. And guess what? The first place I checked out had all of these.XD I don't know if my visions are creating the future or that I can foresee the future. I may have superpowers like that.

The chimney house is made of heavy hardwood on the inside and insulated with steel metal sheet from the outside. I share the six-room house with about 8 other people, mostly Igorots. Uncannily, they don't look anywhere near the Igorots found in mainstream media, but they are generally heavyset and squat (but not always!), often with bloody-looking mouths from chewing betel nut. My room is on the second floor, with two wide windows, one of which faces the sunrise, a portion of Echo Valley (where the hanging coffins are found), and steep mountains clad in pine trees. The air here is seductively clean and cool, with the faint but all-pervasive smell of pine. If I get to find a carpenter within this week I'll have a wooden table made for me to write on and finish my books, all that facing this gorgeous view. Ah, heaven!XD

Since I've already been to the hanging coffins, burial caves, and rock climbing activities in my previous visits, I went out my way to explore sites rarely visited by tourists. I woke up at 4:30 in the morning yesterday, washed up, and started trekking to Kiltepan where I would see the prettiest sunrise in Sagada. Guessing I'd get there in 30 minutes, I walked leisurely starting at 5 am, and marveled at the mist slowly rising around me. With the brightening sky, the noisy birds shooting off their headquarter trees, tall pine trees everywhere, cozy chimney houses in sight, all these united by thick fog and freezing chill, I thought I was in some page ripped off from the novel The Hobbit. All the way to Kiltepan, fog came out my breath as if I was smoking a cigarette. Turned out, I underestimated the trek as it took me at least an hour to get there (way to go, Little Miss Leisurely), the last 15 to 20 minutes entailing a gradual ascent on a dirt road towards Kiltepan Peak.

Had I known it would take me that long I could've hitchhiked instead. But the trek itself was rewarding anyway so I thought I'd just hitchhike on the way back. Kiltepan Peak had a wide clearing for car parking, surrounded by more pine trees, and an abandoned hotel and restaurant on its highest ground. From the edge of the peak was a panoramic view of mountain ranges one behind another, where the sun had risen (and I missed it, goddamnit) and was now slowly inching over two distant but still inspiring rice terraces collectively known as Kiltepan Rice Terraces. Note to self: visit this again before sunrise and hitchhike next time! On the way back down I chanced upon a middle-aged man who just emerged from a pine forest and had a motorcycle parked along the dirt road. He said he's been scouting area for mushrooms and they haven't sprouted yet. Kuya Ronny, his name, let me ride on his motorcycle on the way down and to the town.

Oh drat, I sold my iPad and no longer have anything to take pictures with, save for my analog talk and text phone that shoots photos in kilobits.XD I bought a Kindle Paperwhite after selling the iPad -- I should've done this a long time ago! I'm in love with Kindle. Reads like a regular book with soft paper. (Then again I'd still prefer a real book I can turn a page and sniff over anything else.) An iPad makes for a shitty long-term ebook reader. My eyes would hurt and water after just an hour of reading, and then there's the stripes imprint at the back of my eyeballs when I close my eyes. HIDEOUS. Good riddance.

Goddamnit, this place is too perfect. Time to make some trouble.

// Jul 2017

The ENTP Female: A Self-Portrait

What is an ENTP?

Born with a sophisticated radar called extraverted intuition, ENTPs are versatile pattern-seekers who naturally draw on a hundred diverse things to see or create something new. They are called inventors, visionaries, explorers, originators, and debators. The most emotional among intuitive thinkers (NTs), they are described as clever, cerebrally and verbally quick, laid-back, innovative, charming, flexible, and resourceful, with a strong resistance against authority. On the flip side, they can be insensitive, argumentative, narcissistic, unreliable, arrogant, and lean towards hypomanic and antisocial personalities. While ENTPs are misrepresented among women (they make up only a smattering 3% of the global pie of females), among men, developed ones include Steve Jobs, Leonardo da Vinci, Barrack Obama, and Buddha. Unhealthy examples include Joker (from Batman) and Deadpool.

The ENTP Kid

I grew up with an innate internal compass, and never listened to my parents or to any adult for that matter, given that I was the youngest in a huge house of about 30 to 50 people at any given day. I was intolerant to being told what to do, how to think, and how to behave, and charmed my way among adults to hand me money to buy sweets.XD Growing up unattended and deaf to instruction, I led a few kids to roaming the streets on a daily basis, setting our adventures for the day, creating our own language, maintaining social harmony. In school, I failed in subjects that didn't budge my interest and aced in subjects that did. Outside the classroom, I was an insatiable machine, absorbing everything in our family library and school library, and had a number of hobbies and interests. I was a math whiz without effort, taught shortcuts to my teachers, and was thrown in different math competitions. Along the side, I was painting too, joined competitions as well, made arts and crafts just to give them away, and biked and sneaked into private swimming pools to chill out. One time I went home late at night drenched to the bone in my school uniform. It felt good to swim regardless of whatever clothes I was in. It bothered me a lot that other kids my age didn't understand things so easily as I did, and didn't have the sense of curiosity that I had. On the down side, I was often brought to the principal's office due to theft. I was a closet kleptomaniac for many years and enjoyed the thrill of acquiring things, sucking the juice or novelty out of them, and then giving them away. And every time I did, I felt like a benevolent and generous princess, bringing bright shiny things to humanity to better their lives.

Teenage Years

Everything was the same as my childhood days, except that my explorations broadened to stealing books and understanding the nature of intoxicants, stimulants, gangs, and boys. I had the reputation of a designer and was given the role of an arts club president, finding unique ways to design stages and costumes for all high school events. Classes were spent passing down liquor in the back row and doodling on very inch of space in my textbooks and notebooks. Regardless, my friends would get surprised when I'd walk up the stage to get my honors and medals when I'd always waste my free time just making trouble, drinking, and listening to alternative music. While I did have a clique of wayward girls which I led, I was drawn towards boys and older people. I understood the squishy center of guys more than I did girls'. Maybe it was the hormones, but I was always in a relationship with a dude simply because it was more natural for me to be with boys than girls. Often testing the loopholes in my environment, I was sent to the guidance office for more theft, misbehavior, wearing inappropriate clothing, and getting caught doing graffiti. I feel like a bore narrating my life, but high school was unbridled freedom and want. The exploration of bodies is censored, but that in itself is another timehole of strange feelings and sensations.

Young Adulthood

Going against the tide, I'd only understand truth and morality by experimenting with the opposite. It's not that I was stupid because I'd always make mistakes. I intentionally made mistakes and did the wrong things to see why truth is real and morality is necessary. I was compelled to understand how everything works in a grand gesture to acquire all the secrets of the self and the universe. In college I'd often twist my professors' instructions to create wildly perverse projects, often even remotely connected to the instructions given. I'd do that for the sheer high and shock value, satisfying my need for my work to stand out from an ocean of beige. I didn't mind failing but I'd always end up with the highest grades doing what I wanted, and not what the professor wanted. Failing was irrelevant; I got the most out of it instead of the professor out of me.

Explorations further expanded towards understanding the human psyche, world religions, governments, and the powerful yet silent ways of nature. I was turning into a highly individualized young lady, who didn't belong to any creed, any government, or any belief system for that matter. All this time I knew in my gut that everything I've been told all throughout my life was wrong, and that being human was a mere accumulation of rules and cultural structures to turn us into slaves in the massive clockwork system of capitalism and consumerism. Men failed to interest me unless they were intelligent or were agonizingly fuckable (or both). I couldn't fit in anywhere as everything in society was limiting and was dousing the fire in my spirit. Being a woman and an ENTP can be a disastrous combination when a young lady's out-of-the-box intelligence, high intuition, and creativity couldn't find a place to thrive in.

Discovering the great outdoors was transformative as nature has no social constructs, racial prejudices, crippling judgments, or any sense of morality. I fell quickly at home with the outdoors and later with the wide open road, where I melded with fellow lost souls flowing along the current of this immensely beautiful and unpredictable world. By my mid-twenties I was independent and roaming freely that ordinary people I met were often shocked by the kind of person that I was: unapologetic, profane, intelligent, conversational, and openminded, and yet at other times inaccessible, unapproachable, aloof, and deeply absorbed in other things. Feelings are the hardest part to digest, as these awkward untouchable things accumulate and erupt into fits and explosions. Beyond the company of people, I sought the presence of aged and gorgeous trees, mind-blowing waterscapes, mountains, and skies, and the unquestioning affection of animals. Deep inside we just want to be accepted unconditionally, incorruptibly, irrevocably, regardless of what hellhole we emerged from or whatever far-fetched tangents or theories spill from our tongues. We are complicated as the world is complicated, unpredictable as the world is unpredictable, and ever-evolving as any ENTP is addicted to growth, new experiences, and unconventional ways of thinking and being alive.

So yeah, I'm still a kid, so that ends here.

// Jun 2017

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