Taxi Rides

More often than not, taxi rides consist of an uncaring silence between both passengers, vigilance for anything suspicious on the part of the commuter, a fare meter that seems to tick too fast and too-Pinoy radio music in the background.

However, taxi rides, even those taken solo at almost midnight, can also be surprisingly caring, innocent, and insightful.

******

I was on my way home from working almost 7hrs at a Fort coffee shop. I’ve had two (or maybe three) servings of coffee for the afternoon and wasn’t feeling too well. Naturally, I was quiet and was struggling with the ill-feeling. Finally, when I felt I'm going to burst, I suddenly exclaimed to the driver, breaking the default silence, that I was feeling nauseous.

I didn’t know what I was expecting from that statement, but he kindly responded and suggested that I transfer upfront. So, I did. And we started talking.

According to him, coffee is intoxicating just like alcohol. (Something I’ve only heard from him). And that I might be on a caffeine-high and experiencing something like an alcohol hangover.

His statements seemed logical. And I mostly believed him. Soon enough, the conversation turned to our working dilemmas. And I saw that we’re actually pretty much alike in that category, although we’re generations and fates apart.

He was a BS Commerce graduate; and I a BS Management. He dreaded the typical 8-5 work shift; I do, too. He hated working for a boss who never acknowledges enough his achievements; I fear that situation, too. He enjoys being exposed to different people and learning from them; I want that, too.

It was amazing to coincidentally bump into a complete stranger who shares the same sentiments I was having at that exact moment. It felt like we were in the same situation -- that he was still in the "okay-I-am-done-with-school-what's-next" dilemma too. Even though it was quite apparent that we were already in different stages of our lives, he seemed like he was as yearning for life's real adventure as I was.

I no longer got to ask about his family or whether he's finally happy with being a taxi driver. But I guess, foregoing a secured banking career for one that literally takes him places and poses opportunity to interact with all sorts of people, says something.

Anyway, he made me rethink (for the nth time) about my situation, but this time, in a calm, composed and insightful manner. I can say he was one of the few persons who helped me perceive my self better. More than that, he made me realize how much I can learn from just riding a taxi.

It was definitely one of those magical experiences. Hope to have more!

Cheers to more taxi rides but not to caffeine!

To Intramuros: My Solo Excursion

I have long been wanting to go to Intramuros alone and just walk around, taking pictures and looking at stuff. The Walled City was a very beautiful city during its glory years, and it still is at present, in some parts. Nevertheless, as my previous post suggests, I am an all-talk-no-act person. That is, I tend to retain whatever I want to do in my head instead of actually acting up on it.

However, I am really getting tired of this counter-productive attitude and I am starting to struggle my way out of it. I am trying to fight off my stupid anxious thoughts and to just get my ass moving. And so, last Sunday, I finally got up, after much internal debate, walked the whole stretch of Katipunan Ave., casually rode two trains, and found my way inside the city.

Of course, there were also a few side trips before I actually got in the city.

I passed by Universidad de Manila which had NoyNoy's portrait posted on its entrance. I don't know how different this school is from the University of the Philippines-Manila.

Across the university is a plaza. In front of it is a huge monument depicting the KKK. I've always stared at that figure and have always wanted to walk pass it. If allowed, I would have even stared at it a while longer instead of just snapping a shot.

Behind the statue, people were singing, dancing and clapping. It seemed like a religious worship but the audience composed of dark, house-clothed locals instead of elegantly well-dressed church people. I figured the party was organized by some korean church who wanted to entertain or give something to the residents of the area.

After a hundred more steps and a couple of life-threatening underpasses, I finally reached the city.

My first stop, of course, was the Muralla. The Muralla is the road that goes around the perimeter of the city. It is lined by thick walls, studded with moss, bullet holes and brick bits. It was designed to house canyons and artillery and to allow people to easily go around the city on top of it.

After that, I aimlessly walked around trying to avoid the crowded streets. It was actually weird seeing people shooting hoops on a concrete road perpendicular to a cobbled street lined with old, historical buildings. The two certainly don't belong together and both are an insult to the other.
Anyway, I passed by a souvenir shop whose concept was pretty similar to Papemelroti's. It also sells paper products except that its material is printed with Intramuros-reminiscent pictures. There were a bunch of nice finds from notebooks to planners to bookmarks and even necklaces. I was looking for an office thing, like a pen, to give to newlycorporatebirthdayboy but couldn't find anything except for paper weights. And so, I ended up buying an Intramuros-designed rubik's cube thinking he knows how to play it.
After a few more streets, I realized it was getting late and I needed to wrap-up my trip soon. I decided I want to walk up the walls again and so I headed for the main city entrance where one can have a view of the majestic golf course and of romantic couples. On my way, I saw a peculiar thing.

A man was riding his bike with his dog perched on the handles

In less than an hour, I was out of the city again. I can’t say I was enormously joyful for conquering not only Intramuros but also myself but I can say that I certainly enjoyed my solo adventure and that I was extremely tired. It was an experience and I still definitely want to go back to the city. I believe there are still many other streets and sights to explore and restaurants to try but I’ll try dragging others with me the next time.

Cheers to solo trips and spontaneous Sundays!

Next stop: Solo climb, hopefully.

Don't Think, Just Do

I haven’t really been inspired to write anything recently. In fact, I haven’t really been moved to do anything at all. And all that I have been involved with for the past few months were just selfish, unproductive, short-lived, and senseless merry-making. I feel that I haven’t really achieved anything—that I haven’t transitioned yet from being a student to being a graduate—and that I’m actually no better than a bum, except that I’m making a little bit of money, spending more than my school allowance, and living in a so-called home.

While my batchmates are busy with their corporate jobs and making their parents proud, I’m back at home still trying to figure out what I want and how to get it. I guess this is still part of the whole “okay-I-am-done-with-school-what’s-next” dilemma. And unfortunately, this thing has been going on for an extra extended amount of time, 6 months to be precise.

The last months of my last semester were a struggle. Lessons felt like food I could no longer swallow and requirements like vacuums sucking out the life off of me. Although there was the comfort of friends and a regular schedule to anticipate, school life still seemed a needle hole which I needed to successfully get through.

Fortunately, although I barely had interest in studying and was certain to fail a subject, I survived the semester with surprisingly good grades and finally graduated.

After graduation, I became worse. I became obsessed with freedom, with time, and with having someone with me all the time. I indulged my happy-go-lucky self and began acting according to my moods. I really didn’t know where I’m going but I kept on escaping that fact by resulting to non-stable and risky but idealistically-aligned propositions. Instead of exerting full effort to create a real opportunity for myself, I resolved to the easier and more convenient option.

I have a very ambitious life-goal. Unfortunately, I am not strong-willed enough to be ambitious enough for that goal. I keep on writing it down and thinking it out in my head but never laying out steps for it. Sometimes, I know what to do. But more often, I falter. I always hesitate to take action—to actually do what I imagine to do—because fear always steps in. I am so afraid to commit mistakes and tend to remain stagnant when being stagnant itself is already a mistake.

I know I need to move, to transition. But HOW?

A week ago, I did something unusual, insane, and, maybe, brow-raising. I was tremendously hesitant about it at first, with my mind and my heart battling it out, but I eventually decided to stop thinking and just walk (don’t think, just do). I walked, and travelled, trying to keep my thoughts silent, until I no longer had a choice but to go with it. I blocked out anxieties and focused on the goal and eventually found myself two steps away from it.

Although the event was totally based on irrational logic, it actually came out appropriate in the end. So I guess this is what I have to do if I want movement in my life. I need to stop entertaining worried and doubting thoughts and just start walking and actually moving. And if a road block ends up in front of me, then at least I know it was a wrong turn. I could just backtrack and choose another.

So many roads, can’t decide which one to take

Cheers to movement! (finally, hopefully)

Same Struggles, Different Tables

An old man in tattered clothes was wearily walking along the streets of Katipunan. He was rugged and dirty and seemed homeless. His small son was with him—quietly and innocently sleeping on his back, sandwiched by a worn-out backpack which supposedly functioned as his crib.

The two peacefully entered a quaint local coffee shop. However, instead of looking for an available seat, they began approaching occupied customers in the shop’s patio. The father was presenting a small card, which seemed to be a letter for alms-begging, and was pointing to the kid hanging on his back.

The first customer, a corporate woman busy with some paperwork, upon notice of the poor man, briefly looked at him and instantly replied with an annoyed expression. She frowned and shook her head, motioning for him to leave and letting herself be consumed by her papers again.

Next, the father approached an eccentric student sitting by the nearby table. She was typing something on her laptop and enjoying her music through her enormous headphones. When she noticed the man handing over the small card, she immediately took off her headphones and courteously looked at him. After a few seconds, upon realizing his agenda, she politely said no—waving her hands and wearing an innocent look.

At that moment, a waiter finally noticed the man and quickly approached him. The waiter tapped the man on his shoulder and courteously asked him to leave. However, he kept explaining to the student and even went on to approach a third customer.

The third one was a young professional, also busy tinkering with his laptop. When the man approached him, he eagerly stopped and listened. He conversed with the man for a few minutes, even with the waiter pursuing the man to leave. He seemed to be asking questions and looked concerned with the man’s situation. He might have even given him alms and shook his hand.

A few more minutes, a knock was heard on the café’s front door. One knock. Two knocks. Three knocks. However, not a single soul inside that busy shop took notice. His knocks fell on ears deafened by the noise of bills and luxuries. The frail child hanging on his back wasn’t seen by eyes blinded by poverty and dreams. And their existence wasn’t acknowledged by hearts hardened by life’s difficulties and personal struggles.

That father and son are only two of the countless poor souls calling out to the more fortunate beings for attention. They aren’t involved with any syndicate or aren’t scheming for any theft and fraud but they are similarly ignored and scorned at. They don’t mean any harm, and are just asking for help just as a friend in need does. And yet, they are seen as evil strangers with unknown intentions.

If given a thought, all those people in that coffee shop are no different than the father and son. They are all just trying to survive and trying to perform their responsibilities to other people. It just happens that they are fortunate enough to wear decent clothes and to be sipping warm coffee.

Why then is it so difficult to heed to a stranger’s call for help when everyone is no different from him/her—struggling to survive life and looking for someone to help?

Still saying cheers for coffee shops and realizations and confusion!

Same Old

There's this certain website which allows one to send emails to the future. It's actually very simple. The website saves and keeps the letter written at the present and sends it out only at the specified future date, ranging from a couple of days, to several months, and even to a few years. Any future date would work. Also, there is an option to keep the letter private or to publish it publicly for everyone on the site to read. I’ve always kept mine private but it’s really interesting to read what other people tell their future selves. Some are hilarious while some are just weird. Either way, the letter will only be re-opened on the specified future date.

I first came across futureme.org in a teen magazine a few years ago. I immediately found the idea interesting and I soon found myself sending letters almost every month. For me, it's like a time capsule wherein the letter from my past self would take me back to that certain past period, relieving how I was back then and seeing how much I’ve changed. It's also kind of romantic — like receiving a love letter from an anonymous admirer, but instead of the sender being anonymous, the content is. I know the letter came from my past self but I wouldn’t know what I wrote to myself. It could contain either beautiful experiences or unforgiving scolding and frustrations.

Anyway, I usually use the website to write about my current thoughts, situation, frustrations, and difficulties – things I just want to get out of my head but don’t want to tell anyone or moments I would want to reminisce in the future. One night, a letter arrived in my email. As usual, I wasn’t expecting it. But I was neither ecstatic to receive it. I was having a pretty rough week and I feared the letter would add up to that stress so I avoided opening it. Unfortunately, that same night, I accidentally opened the letter while I was deleting some other emails. And as I suspected, it was indeed an un-delightful letter.

The title posted a challenge (more of a plea, actually) as I was describing who I was a year ago with a list of all-negative traits. Unfortunately, as it figures, I am still the same miserable me I was a year ago. Not one of those counter-productive adjectives changed or even mellowed down. It’s actually depressing to think about it. But maybe, all those qualities really do belong to me, that I wouldn’t be who I am if any of those disappeared. For instance, Melanie Marquez would no longer be Melanie Marquez if she learned to speak fluent English or Fr. Dacanay would cease to exist if he managed to take out that ugly frown and tacky comments. Also, Courage, the cowardly dog would no longer be courage if he finally became completely courageous.

As undecisivebutperkychinese, one of my closest friends, said, we should all learn to accept and embrace our negative traits. We should proclaim them and not try to hide them. And then, we would be able to live with these negativities, surpassing these and even making something productive out of them.

With this, maybe I should stop trying being not impulsive. Maybe I should just make the most out of it (but of course, still with care). Hopefully, this trait would get me to where I really want to be.

Cheers to confusion and more!

Chillin' at the top of Taal Volcano

Unemployment

"Everyone has a job to do."




I wonder what mine is.

Gone in Nagcarlan

During the start of June, I declared to be on a climbing hiatus, for several reasons mentioned in a previous entry. However, I wasn't able to live up to that declaration because of a previous self-promise that I deemed more weighty. It was a promise of going to at least one out-of-town trip or adventure trip every month, in fulfilment of my ultimate goal of travelling all over the world someday, (beginning with my home country).

And so, towards the end of June, I abruptly began planning for a day climb with Adventurebuddy. I wanted to go with my staple go-out friends, whom I got to take interest in climbing, but they unfortunately had other plans that weekend. In the end, after much anxiety and hesitation for fear of accidents and inability to respond properly to situations, Adventurebuddy and I went on to climb Mt. Nagcarlan in Laguna four days before the month ended.

It wasn’t an easy trip not only because we didn't train for it but also because it wasn’t an ideal time for climbing. It was the rainy season and the recent storm had just passed. Because of this, the mountain was swarming with a thousand newly-hatched, starving, dengue mosquitoes whose bites go through clothing and who happily fed on my blood. By the end of the climb, I got almost a hundred bites, mostly on my upper left back thigh. Not a great souvenir at all.

Moreover, because no one have been using the trails, vegetation already covered some parts of it, causing us to get lost several times and forcing us to make our own path. We climbed over fallen bamboo trees enveloped by black ants, walked through bushes and spider webs, and earned scratches and cuts in the process. At first, it was a bit delightful. But after 30mins of constantly diving through thick foliage, I started thinking of being lost forever. I recalled the episodes I saw in the Discovery Channel about people getting stuck in the wilderness and almost dying, ("I Shouldn't Be Alive"). Fortunately for them, they have 911 and forest rangers. Unluckily for us, the Philippines has a non-efficient and unreliable system of those.

The disappearing trail

Anyway, after almost an hour of being lost, we spotted an ill-constructed hut and headed for it. And then, we were back on the trail. We reached the summit almost at noon, an hour late from our IT. Although it had

a magnificent view of the lakes,

the nearby mountains,

and the towns below,

we couldn't quite enjoy it because it was too hot. There was absolutely no shade and we just resolved into enveloping ourselves under the "banig" Adventurebuddy brought. After 30 minutes of trying to hide from the sun, we decided to go down to have a real shade under the trees.

White cross erected at the summit

Although we were mostly alone during the whole trip, we did meet some interesting characters. First, there was Manongtricycledriver who kept trying to converse with us amidst the riotous noise of the tricycle on our way to the Barangay Hall. It was really loud and it was difficult to hear each other because of that and the strong wind but he kept bragging to us about how often and how conveniently he would climb the mountain--how tired he was of it already. Although he was kind enough to direct us to the right registration area, he may have also over-charged us. Anyway, he was more helpful than harmful.

Next was Manongnapaakyatdin whom we met after getting back to the trail. He was with his dog, whom he called Blackie and who kept barking and coming at us, and his horse, who looked very exhausted and unfortunate because of his heavy load. Manong politely invited us to walk with him to avoid getting lost (although we already did). We tried to keep up with him  but we were already very tired and ended up way behind him. At times, we would be able to catch up with him because his horse would stop out of extreme exhaustion. I was quite thankful every time that happened. However, he would immediately start hitting and scolding the horse to keep going. It was pretty obvious that the horse is already worn-out, especially that it carried all the supplies, but Manongnapaakyatdin didn't seem to care. Either way, although he mistreated his horse, in my opinion, he was still kind enough to point us towards the peak.

Lastly, there was Mang Bibing whom we met on the hike down. We were taking a break from the afternoon sun when we saw him walk towards us. We asked for directions towards the highway and to Pansol and he was happy enough to give it in detail. Afterwards, he asked if we know someone interested to buy land. If not, he said we could look for one and inform him about it so that we could share commission. He was basically hiring us as real estate agent. Although we promised to come back if ever a buyer comes up, I don't think that will happen, especially that we really don't intend to actively look for a buyer.

Anyway, those three strangers all have one thing in common. They kept asking us where the others are and why was there only the two of us. Although I understand that it was more customary to climb in groups, I still wish that people not get surprised if they see something out of the ordinary.

Cheers to climbing and to random people.

Mt. Nagcarlan

The Wonder of Driving

Whenever people ask me if I want a car, I would bashfully answer that I don't. Instead, I would tell them immediately that I want a car WITH a driver. Most of the time they, they would laugh at the silly idea, saying that it's too ambitious, that having a driver limits the whole idea, or that what I really want is a boyfriend with a car. I quite agree with everything that they say but I still wouldn't want to drive my own car.

I just find this act too much of a hassle and too much of a challenge. Driving one's own car, one would have to face the challenge of manoeuvring it through the streets of Manila, along with immoral jeepneys and over-confident buses, instead of just relaxing at the passenger (or back seat), and waiting arrival at the desired destination. And after successfully conquering Manila traffic, one still has to worry about and look for a safe and available parking space instead of just hopping out of the car and straight to wherever. See? Isn't it just more convenient to have a car with a driver instead of having just a car?

This idea was reinforced when driveanywherebuddy agreed to teach me how to drive one night. It wasn't actually the best time for me to have driving lessons but it was definitely the best time to talk someone into letting a non-driver drive his car. And so, we exchanged seats. I never really had driving lessons before nor have I ever stepped on a gas pedal. I was always the passenger and I didn't mind that.

Anyway, the driving lessons were quite successful. I drove around in a village for 30minutes without bumping into anything or having the engine die (it was an automatic car), and even though it was really difficult to see the perimeter. I was so keen and focused on driving that I was seating on the edge of the driver's seat, with my head almost at the driving wheel. More so, it was so intense that I found a big deep bruise on my right thumb the morning after (have you ever heard of such?)

This might be the point I got my bruise

Anyway, from that short, untimely driving lesson, I learned that it was very easy to hit objects and to not notice it at all, that it was very easy to get your car scratched, that it was very difficult to look at the side mirrors (and basically anywhere else except the front road), that it requires tremendous skill to be able to brake smoothly, that driving isn't at all comfortable, and that people who can drive (especially big and long vehicles) safely and still make decent conversation are amazing! I have a new respect for drivers now. I now know not to bother them too much when they're doing their thing, especially when backing up, and to avoid giving last-minute directions.

Maybe these just all came from my newness to driving and that it would change once I do learn how to drive. I'm not saying ‘no’ to learning how to drive (I’m actually getting more inclined to it) but I still want a car-with-driver if given a chance, especially in the Metro.

Cheers to having cars and having someone drive them for you!

:D

Two Tugs For A Milk Box

An old lady begging for alms was sitting on the corner of a popular street. She looked very weak and feeble, wearing tattered clothes and holding on to a worn-out stick. She was stretching her hand out and blindly tugging at anyone who passes by her, but no one ever paid attention. It was as if she was just an annoying little bug, better off ignoring than shooing away.

At last, it was my turn to walk past her, to ignore her, and to act as if she never existed. It was my turn to experience her tug and to be one of the hundreds of people who failed her. However, the scene didn’t turn out the way it typically did.

******

It was past lunch time and I was quite in a hurry. I stopped by a convenience store to get some change and as soon as I got out, it was then that I saw her. It wasn’t the first time I saw her sitting there. And it wouldn’t also be the first time that I would walk right by her.

As I hurriedly crossed the street towards her corner, guilty thoughts raced through my mind. “There she is again. Should I give her something this time? But I’m almost late and am quite hungry too. Oh well, I’ll just do what everyone else does. I’ll just pretend I don’t see her even if I know I should help her.”

Resolved with this thought, I innocently walked to her corner. As expected, I saw her hand reach out before me, pleading for anything to ease her agony. And as I have settled on, I proudly ignored her. However, she reached out for a second time. This time, I felt a strong tug at my arm, demanding that I take notice. I wasn’t prepared for this second tug. I wasn’t able to think but just heeded to that tug. And so, I abruptly stopped, turned to her, and handed over the milk box that was supposed to be my brunch. I even waited for her to get the small straw that I’ve already opened. Afterwards, I turned to the street again and continued my swift walk.

I then thought, why did I do that? What made me do that? And then I remembered that second tug. She tugged my arm even though she really didn’t have an intention to. However, along with that arm, she tugged my heart. But did she really have to call out twice for me to answer?

******

I don’t usually feel compassionate with poor, homeless people on the street, maybe because I’m used to their presence and have accepted the fact of their existence and my inability to change their status. I know I want to help them and I know I should but I guess I just don’t feel too strongly about that that I resolve to holding it back. I know I’m not the only one who feels like this and I know that it shouldn’t be that difficult to give something but I guess it would always be a big challenge to be completely selfless.

PS: I feel that this is an unfinished entry but I can't quite put into words how I really feel about this. Maybe I'll update this as soon as I can.

To Never Say 'I do"

I was on my way to Greenbelt 1 to meet with some relatives for a late lunch one Sunday afternoon when my soles started to burn from all the walking I did. I decided to take a detour to Landmark’s foodcourt and refresh with a fruitshake. After a few sips, my mom started calling and began being pushy that I come to where they were immediately. And so, I quickly stood up to continue my long painful walk to Cyma, almost 1km actually.

Upon going up to the ground floor of Landmark, a show about the different weddings of the world was taking place. There were couples dressed up in the traditional wedding attires of people from China, India, Japan, Africa, Spain, United Kingdom, and of course, the Philippines. I found it quite amazing and interesting and I would have stayed to watch a bit more if not for my mom’s assertiveness.

Either way, it felt funny for me to have seen that event. I know that if I haven’t stopped to get a fruitshake, I would have missed that show and wouldn’t be writing this entry now.

******

A few nights ago, another wedding-related thing happened. I dreamt of being a bride in a random, urgent, and impromptu wedding. I can’t exactly explain how it led to that but I just saw myself holding a bouquet and walking down the aisle. I remember being confused but excited that I even whispered to my brother (or was it a friend?) who was standing on the front row how glad I was to experience being wed. He didn’t understand what I said so I kept on repeating it to him until the dream ended.

******

I know it is June, the national month of weddings, and hearing (seeing) about this subject isn’t the weirdest thing. However, it’s also the first time that I’m feeling weird and funny just getting exposed to it. Dreaming about it made me think if I really want to be a bride but seeing a parade of brides made me think how beautiful weddings naturally are.

I understand that one’s wedding day is supposed to be one’s happiest day. However, I also know that that one happy, glorious day could lead to a lifetime of suffering and regret. The truth is, though I DO want to get wed, I definitely DO NOT want to get married (marriages are different from weddings, mind you). I want to experience that wonderful day every girl is dreaming of but I certainly do not want to get tied to someone, for personal reasons. And having all these “wedding exposures” makes me feel funny though I can’t really explain why. It makes me literally laugh out loud.

The idea of loving weddings but hating marriages may seem quite queer for most. I don’t know if this would really end up happening but I can think of one way how it can. Either way, I’m still saying ‘no’ to future and present marriages (and also to getting tied to someone) and a ‘maybe’ to happy weddings.

The most recent wedding I’ve been to 

Aplasca-Liganor, 9 Jan 2010

Cheers to weddings!

Jamming with PNE

I did it again!

I was supposed to wake up 5hrs ago but I didn't. I kept hitting the snooze buttons (I had two alarms) every 5 minutes or so for 3 hrs and going back to sleep again.

*sigh*

I know sleep isn't unproductive but having too much of it will get you nowhere.

****

A nice thing happened though. I dreamt about playing the Bass for PNE during a concert. I don't know how it exactly happened. I was just watching the concert from the back of the venue with Buwi's sisters  when I found myself holding a bass guitar and strumming it. In reality, I don't know anything about chords and guitars but in my dream, I was working the guitar out by instinct! I remember committing one mistake towards the end because I was getting conscious and confused on what I was doing. But overall, I was really amazing! Even the band members approved! Also, a fan approached me afterwards and gave me a Hello Kitty stuffed toy. haha.

I love dreams like this but I don't like oversleeping.

Cheers to amibitious dreams!

Wanted: Morning Picker-Upper

For the past weeks, or say several months, I have been having difficulty waking up early. 9am would already be a challenge and 10am or 11am would just be perfect. However, if totally undisturbed and tired, I’d wake up at 12nn or 1pm. Most of the time, I would wake up because my starving stomach forces me to do so. Other times, an early morning phone call from my parents or a random text message would do the trick. Either way, it has been quite difficult to get up.

I guess I just don’t have a reason to wake up early anymore. Two years ago, I would wake up early morning just to line up at the NBI office at Quezon City. I would sleep at 12mn and easily get up at 4am. Year after that, I would get up for my 7:30am Finance class, although I still end up arriving a few minutes late mainly because I don’t like Finance enough. The summer after that, I would happily wake up at 5am to wrestle with fellow MRT commuters and to arrive before 8am for my OJT in Citibank Makati. However, that habit did get really tiresome one week towards the end. Last year, I would get up, with determination, with the sunrise for early morning jogs around school. I discovered a lot during those times and even made friends with one of the security guards.

Unfortunately, I no longer have those now. I could wake up late in the afternoon or sleep early in the morning and not worry about anything. I don’t have classes to attend to or work (at least not a formal fixed-time one) to go to. I also don’t have a reason to jog anymore.

*sigh*

This is what graduation and freedom does to people—making them lost without a reason */wrist*

******

However, today’s definitely different.

It’s 3:51 am and I’m wide awake, not because I haven’t slept yet (as what has been happening recently) but because I have just woken up. I’m actually headed for the mountains later for my first climb after 3 months. I had no training whatsoever because, as I mentioned earlier, I was too lazy for early morning jogs.

Either way, I love this feeling. I should definitely find a strong reason for getting up early everyday.

******

So, as the coffee commercial says, what gets you up in the morning?

Cheers to early mornings!

Amazing Thailand-Philippines

It was in Germany when I first discovered Thai food (notice the irony). Generousfurniturespecialisttito treated us one night to a luxurious dinner for four because we were nearing the end of our semester abroad. He said he hasn’t used his 1000 euro gift certificate yet and he wanted to make our stay memorable (though it already was for the fact that we were there). So anyway, it was because of that night that I developed a fondness for Thai food. I don’t really remember what we ate that night but I definitely recall feeling so amazed and exultant upon my first bite.

One night, foodtripbuddy brought me Pad Thai. I have mentioned to him about my interest with Thai food and so he randomly searched for a Thai restaurant (using the internet, of course) and surprised me with one. Although the Pad Thai didn’t compare to my first one because I didn’t have a euphoric reaction, it was good especially with the vinegar-like sauce. And so, I excitedly suggested visiting that restaurant one dinner.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, I slightly got disappointed not because it didn’t look like a Thai restaurant (which it very much did) but because I didn’t have my camera with me. The design of the restaurant was amazing. Its pagoda-like structure definitely stands out along the street. There’s no way one could miss that Thai resto.

Muang Thai
taken from another blogsite

Inside, it was overflowing with wooden furnitures, Buddha and elephant statues, and various Thai ornaments. It almost felt like Thailand except that they were playing modern pop music. There was also one corner where they were selling Thai delicacies, accessories and souvenirs. Beside our table was a big gong and I wondered what would happen if I suddenly hit it. Would a waiter come and take my order or would they run in panic and scold me?

Anyway, their food was good. I couldn’t tell if it was authentic Thai but I know it didn’t had the same impression as my first Thai food did. We ordered

Red Chicken Curry

and Bagoong Rice.

The curry was spicy enough but it would have been better matched with plain rice. On the other hand, the bagoong rice could stand as a meal itself. It had a lot of toppings. The meals weren’t extraordinary (or maybe I’m just being biased to my first Thai experience), but it would be a worthwhile place to visit. The interiors are really amusing. There’s a lot to look at and to talk about, just in case.

Because I don’t have nice pictures to show and because I’m quite still stuck with my first Thai cuisine, I’ll just redirect you to this blogsite if you want to know more about the restaurant. (I just found her blog via Google).

http://www.chyngreyes.com/2010/03/muang-thai-cravings.html


ไชโย! Chiyo!


Muang Thai
138 Malakas St., Diliman, Q.C.
927-4305/426-4123


494 Banawe St., Sta. Mesa Heights, Q.C.
741-8696
Php150-300