BICOL / MAY 15-18,2008

After being bitten by the travel bug in my late-20’s, I promised myself that I will go to at least one place I’ve never been to every year. During the wander years, this automatically meant trips with my other fabulously single friends. Now that I’m married, the annual trip has evolved into a summer outing of sorts with Hubby Sweet and the family of Sister Pusjing, G-Genius and Patita. Last year, we managed to goad brother I-gue and his fam into going to HK with us (which reminds me that I have yet to finish my HK blog series, ack!).

This year, we tried to get them (as well as Mother & Father) to go, but it was not meant to be. Adorable Ray*-B was too young for what we wanted to do. Besides, Mom-sy was apparently preggers so it might as well have been divine intervention that they decided to pass this year.

Father and Mother, on the other hand, have since declared that they will only join us if the destination is cold, and Bicol was far from cold. It was hot, hot, hot!

I suppose the trip this year is an offshoot of our failed attempt to go last year because cousin Dooders had to delay his flight home to June--by which time the whalesharks had already migrated to China.

Swimming with the whale sharks was therefore at the top of our list this year, followed by the Firefly River Tour along the Donsol River. As a concession to the Hubby, a trip back to CWC for 1-1/2 days of wakeboarding, swimming and hilot massages was also included. Oh, and yes, plans were also made to drop by Mayon for a personal experience of what must be the Philippines most iconic volcano. =)



Our itinerary would have been as follows:

THURSDAY, MAY 15: 8:30 a.m. flight to Legaspi. Since it would have been too late to go to Donsol for the butandings, we planned to go around Legaspi instead. Take the city tour and drop by Mayon, before setting out for Donsol after lunch in time for the Firefly River Tour at 5:30 p.m.

FRIDAY, MAY 16: Whaleshark watching in the morning, before taking the 3-hour trip to CWC after lunch.

SATURDAY,MAY 17: whole day at CWC

SUNDAY, MAY 18: Trip back to Legaspi for the 1:30 p.m. flight back to Manila.

Now, if there’s one thing that truly kept us in awe throughout this entire trip, it is that some Unseen Hand seemed to have been organizing everything for us.

Two days before our trip, Cebu Pacific wrote Sister Pusjing that the 8:30 a.m. flight has been moved back to 5:40 a.m. The red-eye flight. Countless trips to CDO on a similar plane sched has taught me that it’s not the easiest flight to take. Unless you're used to it, it can leave you groggy the entire day. Still, since we got our tickets at promo prices and could therefore not rebook, we just consoled ourselves with the thought that arriving in Legaspi by 6:15 a.m. will give us enough time to take the 1-1/2 hour trip to Donsol. We were hopeful that we will be able to go whaleshark watching that morning, go firefly watching in the p.m., then set out for CWC early the following day.

Hubby Sweet almost sung Hallelujiah while jumping for joy at the thought of two whole days at the CWC. Hahaha!!! ‘D

We arrived in Legaspi to find Mayon covered with clouds (yes, you're supposed to be able to see it from the airport runway). Not a good sign. They say the whale sharks "hide" everytime it rains. We held on to what little hope there was anyway. We thought a little drizzle wouldn't be enough to spook these gentle giants.

Unfortunately for us, there was no one at the Donsol Tourism Office when we arrived--for good reason. After a few minutes of waiting, a girl emerged from the back room.

"Ma'am, malabo po ang tubig. Umulan po ng ilang araw. Pag umuulan po kase, yung dumi ng ilog, umaagos papuntang dagat."

She was referring to the soil, of course.

"Malakas din po ang alon. Sayang lang po kung papalaot kayo. Mahal ang ibabayad niyo. Malamang, wala kayong makikitang butanding."

ACK!!! It was not exactly the kind of thing you'd like to hear after taking the red-eye flight to Legaspi and enduring a 1-1/2 hour ride from Legaspi to Donsol! And that's without traffic, mind you, so you can imagine just how far that is. =(

"Ate, mamayang hapon po kaya, pwede na?"

"Ay, hindi po. Kahit po siguro hanggang bukas, baka di pa malinaw ang tubig. Umuulan pa rin po kase. Sayang lang."

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thing is, Donsol is not a first-class destination. It is a fishing village that accidentally discovered eco-tourism as an alternate source of income. Even the resorts are basic. While airconditioning is available in some rooms, there are no amenities to keep one entertained. There are no pools. Heck, I even found out that it's actually one of the few spots on earth where there is NO TV. If there are no whalesharks to swim with in the morning, and if the fireflies will only come out at night, the entire day stretched before us with literally NOTHING to do. It was time to adjust the itinerary. A quick call to CWC confirmed that the cabanas we booked (supposedly for the following day) was also free that night. We could therefore opt to drive all the way to CWC on that day and just come back to Donsol--hopefully to better weather--on Saturday.

After a quick breakfast, we were off.

Hubby Sweet couldn't stop himself from grinning ear to ear. =)

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More to follow! Have to work now. =)

AND NOW, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR...=D

Nope. This isn't a sponsored blog. Haha! I just thought I'd squeeze this in. I've been enjoying myself immensely ever since I moved to the Yellow side of the business. After more than 12 years of being with the Reds, I welcome the chance to once again do something significant for a "sleeping giant".


Halika na't maki-FIESTA! =D

CRAZY STUFF: IN THE HERE & NOW / MARCH 7,2008 =D

Back in the day when Friendster was new and people actually took updating their profiles seriously, my original post under the heading "About Me" was simple: Willing to jump off a plane from 4,000 feet but would never jump into a pool that is more than 5-ft deep. Hahaha! 'D

My inate fear of deep water stems from one very vivid childhood incident when I almost drowned. A million and one swimming lessons later, I have yet to conquer my fear. Which is basically why--no matter how appealing it sounded because of the inherent danger it posed--I have put off white-water rafting for as long as I could.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was my initial reaction when it was first announced that after the salescon this year, the entire Marketing team would go on a one-day teambuilding event. "Man!", I thought, "I'd scream if they tell me I have to go through one more version of the Amazing Race....."

"We are going to go white-water rafting on the Cagayan de Oro river," The Boss announced. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHH!!! Needless to say, I screamed anyway. Inside. So no one could hear. Hahaha! 'D


It was actually quite an experience, and really, after surviving the first rapid (there were 14 in all), the level of terror eases up. Quite like life, I suppose. Once you've survived a major crisis, everything else that comes after is peanuts--basically because you already know what you're capable of doing in order to stay alive. Hahaha. With white-water rafting, as with life, you just have to keep rowing through the rough spots with all your might until you get to the safe side. And, yes, in the process, you may also feel free to scream at the top of your lungs. Hahaha! 'D No more text descriptions. For once, I'll let the pics tell the story. =)



























































All told, I'm glad I actually got to do it, but yes, my grand realization is that I really am NOT a water baby. With skydiving, I literally had to tell people (basically Lovie) to stop me from going up again--before I got on the plane. I wanted to make sure that I will keep to my personal promise to jump only once and not to push my luck in case I survived. After I crash landed, I really wanted to go up again, if only to prove to myself that I can do it right. I think I may have scared Lovie half to death when I crash landed though so no more second flights for me. Hahaha!

With white-water rafting.....well, I did enjoy myself, but despite the adrenalin rush, it ain't something I'm really craving to do again. Yes, I'm weird this way. =)

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The downside to white-water rafting is this. My scars from the sandmites of Honda Bay were only beginning to fade, when I all of a sudden, woke up the following day to find the nastiest and itchiest "pantals" on my leg. Having learned my lesson from the Palawan sandmites, I tried my darn best NOT to scratch. What do you know. They turned into nasty scabs anyway. Ack! I have since "cured" it with my trusty Nerisona Forte, but I'm still struggling with my ugly, UGLY (!) scars. My derma friend recommended Contratubex. Potent stuff, this Contratubex, considering that Sister Pusjing actually used it pala to heal her ceasarian scars. Hahaha! The Contratubex seems to be working, making the scars a bit lighter and a bit more even, but I know this one's going to take a while. Waaaaaahhhhh!!! Heaven help me though. We're flying to Donsol to go whaleshark watching this weekend. Goodness knows what "pantals" and scars I will get there! Ack!

CRAZY STUFF: A THROWBACK TO THE WANDER YEARS! =D / JANUARY 18,1998

I remember the date. I had just turned 27. I was single, unattached. I had money to burn. What better time to do some crazy thing?! Haha. 'D

Halfway through merienda, I told the Parents that I was going off to Batangas early the following day. No biggie. Back then, I would regularly go to Anilao with friend Carmi and a bunch of other folks from the office. Weekends in Batangas were par for the course.

"Anilao na naman kayo? Sino kasama mo? Sila Carmi?"

Dang! I was hoping they wouldn't ask. (Those who know me well would know I'm NOT a very good liar. =))

"Uh, nope. Si Lovie. Si Pao. Si Rob...."

"Ah....Ano gagawin niyo?"

Argh! Dear God, I'm not going to get away with this too easily, am I?

"Uh....we're...uh...taking flying lessons."

"Flying lessons?! Sino magtuturo sa inyo?! Saan kayo kukuha ng eroplano?!"

"Uh.....there's this airstrip in Batangas. We're going on light planes...." I managed to choke out before my voice trailed off. The entire time I was looking down at my plate.

From my peripheral vision, I felt Mother looking at me suspiciously. 27 years of experience has taught her something was up. For a split second, I thought she was going to put her foot down and say no. Then, I suppose, she just decided against it. She either chose to think I was old enough or she decided she didn't want to argue.

"Di ko maintindihan ang mga balak mo sa buhay. Bahala ka nga! Flying lessons, flying lessons...hay!" she grumbled, shaking her head, before going down the steps to the dirty kitchen.

I tossed and turned that night, barely getting any sleep. I remember praying a single prayer from the time I laid in bed to the time we finally got to Batangas. "Dear God, I'd rather die than get maimed and paralyzed so if something is going to go awry, just kill me. I'm not kidding. Just kill me instantly! BUT my prayer, really is this. Please have mercy on me. Let me get out of this alive and whole. I want to be able to live to tell." HAHAHA!!! 'D

And so it goes that early Sunday morn, before anyone was up, I sneaked out of House Better, and drove my trusty UL*45* City to the old Shell Station along the SLEX where the gang was supposed to meet up. We got to Batangas soon enough. (See, this is the problem with writing about an experience more than 10 years later. I cannot, for the life of me, remember what the name of the airstrip was! Naku! Haha. =))

We arrived to find 10 or so people there, most of them serious "jumpers". There was Jenny, only 15 years old, with her American father talking animatedly about the fall she took last week when she miscalculated and landed near the trees. "Her mom almost killed me..." he exclaimed, as he regaled everyone with his domestic tales.

A Chinese-looking guy disengaged himself from the group and wheeled himself toward Robert, grinning from ear to ear.

"Pare! You brought fresh blood!" he cried out, before turning to us.

"Nigel," he said, as he extended his hand to us and smiled, "I'll be your instructor for the day."

"Nice shirt," I said, choosing to ignore the fact that he was in a wheelchair. "Not exactly the best shirt to be wearing on a day like this, but it's nice shirt," I continued before shaking his hand.

He laughed.

If the main chute does not open,

OPEN YOUR RESERVE.

If the reserve chute does not open,

GO TOWARD THE LIGHT.

"I had a bad landing a month ago. In U.P." he continued, still chuckling, "You must have heard about it in the news or read about it in the papers."

My memory clicked. Yup, I did hear about that one. How they were supposed to jump into the Sunken Garden as part of an airshow for a University celebration, only to be blown against the trees when the wind changed directions. The newspaper reports said the skydiver had a badly fractured spine.

"So that's you!" I cried out.

"Yup," he exclaimed, "they tell me I have a next to zero chance of being able to walk again. 'Told my doctor no way. 'Told him to give me six months. I can beat this. Darn it, I will walk again. If only to get another chance to fly."

His optimism was admirable; his can-do attitude contagious. Made me temporarily forget the fact that I was getting skydiving lessons from someone who may not be able to walk again because of a recent skydiving accident! Stupid, stupid girl. Haha! 'D

"So, who among you newbies will be jumping today?" Nigel asked, rubbing his palms briskly.

Pao and I raised our hands as Lovie shook her head. "I'm just here to take the pictures and shoot the video," she sheepishly explained.

"Fair enough," Nigel replied. "Pao, T&T, meet Eric and Joel. They too will be jumping for the first time today."

"So, why are you doing this?" I asked, initiating small talk, in a desparate attempt to shake off my nerves.

"I'm afraid of heights," Eric replied, "I want to conquer my fear."

I looked at him incredulously, "Couldn't you have started by riding a ferris wheel?!"

Joel and Pao laughed. Ice broken. The easy banter, I suppose, eased the tension hidden within. We, after all, were all going to jump off a plane that day. FOR THE VERY FIRST TIME. We were all probably scared shitless, but we must all pretend that we weren't. Haha.

Skydiving back then cost me PhP 7,000. That's includes half-a-day's worth of training, plus your first jump. Yes, you read it right. We only trained for half a day. Haha. And banish all thoughts of those high-tech air chambers that you see on the Discovery Channel. We trained on a chute harness that hung on a metal bar! HAHAHA!!! 'D It did, however, at least attempt to simulate our experience while in flight. (If you look closely at the pic below, you'd see Pao hanging from the harness strapped to the metal bar. Yes, training was that high-tech. Hahaha! 'D)

We were told that if after the 1st jump, we decide that we want to go up again, the succeeding jumps will cost P1,600 per. If ever, it'll be our share in the plane fuel.

"Ba, pamura pala ng pamura buhay natin 'no!" someone exclaimed (I forget now who), which again set off boisterous, albeit nervous laughter. It wasn't my concern though. No matter how much I enjoyed it, I told myself I will only do it once. If I survived the first time, I have resolved--against my nature--not to push my luck. Hahaha!

Nigel introduced us to The Colonel who was going to be our jumpmaster. He reassured us that despite all the hype, almost no one has ever died from a jump. "There is a 99.999999999% chance you will survive," he said before he continued, "Meron ngang reporter sa ABS-CBN na tumalon para sa show lang. Sa sobrang takot, hinimatay mid-air. Pag-land niya, unconscious siya. Pero, nabali lang ang ribs niya. Di siya namatay." Uhhhhhh....yup. That really sounds reassuring....now back to my prayer the night before.....HAHAHA! 'D

There are a few important things we must remember, he said:

1. Unlike the old, round WWII chutes, the chutes now are maneuverable. You can pull on either rope (held on each hand), depending on where you want to go. If you want to go to the left, pull the left rope. If you want to go to the right, pull the right rope. How far you pull the rope down determines the sharpness of your turn. If you only want to turn slightly, pull the rope quarter-way. If you want to do a sharp turn, pull the rope all the way.
2. Because it is your first jump, we will attach a radio to you. Through the radio, we will give you instructions so you can land safely. If we say pull right, pull right. If we say pull left, pull left. We will guide you towards hitting the drop zone.
3. At 100 feet above air, you must be in a position to land already. You must land against the wind. You must land facing the wind. The wind will become your natural brake. Do NOT land with the wind at your back, because if you do so, you will be accelerating instead of decelerating. We don't want you hitting the ground at breakneck speed.
4. Because it is your first jump, I will throw the drag chute for you. (The drag chute is this tiny, tiny mini-parachute that will create enough resistance against the wind after one jumps off the plane. The pull will then trigger the release of the main chute.) But yes, you will jump alone.
5. You must jump off the plane SIDEWAYS. In preparation, you must position yourself at the plane door. Half of your body must be in the plane. The other half must be out. This is the point of decision. When I give you the thumbs-up sign, you can either nod your head and jump out OR you can shake your head and sit down. If you decide NOT to jump, we will simply take you back down on the plane. There is no shame in saying no if you're not ready.



6. If you do decide to go, you must immediately form an X-position with your body as soon as you jump out. This is the best position to create resistance so you can hold a steady position against the wind. At ground level, you think of the wind as a breeze. At 4,000 feet above ground, trust me, you will feel the wind. Unless you create enough drag against it, the wind will knock you around.
7. As soon as you jump out, I always advise 1st-timers to count up to 9. Why 9? Because 9 seconds is the average time for the main chute to fully open once the drag chute has been thrown. Let's practice counting....(Children, all together now! =)) "One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four-one thousand, five-one thousand, six-one thousand, seven-one thousand, eight-one thousand, nine-one thousand..." Again! "One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand...."
8. If the chute does not open after nine-one thousand, it means it will not likely open. If your main chute does not open, DON'T PANIC. (Thought balloon: How could I not?! Visions of Nigel's shirt were swimming in my head. Good grief. Haha.) You must keep enough sense within you to cut off the ropes of the main chute first before releasing the reserve chute. The reserve chute is there to save you. You don't want it being entangled with the main chute. Use the mini-knife on your harness. Let's practice how you're going to cut the ropes and initiate the reserve...
9. If your main chute opens, but the ropes are tangled or the chute is askew, pump continuously until it corrects itself. When I say pump, pull both ropes (held on each hand) up and down. Simultaneously. Continuously. If your main chute refuses to correct itself, do #8.
10. If, for whatever reason, something happens mid-air and you are knocked unconscious, the reserve chute is programmed to release once the altometer hits 1,800 feet at a certain speed. Chutes these days are very smart. It knows when a jumper is in trouble.

"When all else fails, you have a final ray of hope. As jump master, I will jump off the plane LAST in case someone needs rescuing mid-air. The thing is," The Colonel said with a wink before continuing, "I can only rescue one person at a time."

Nigel laughed. Lesson over. Time to jump. Yey! 'D

Everyone rushed to get their gear, the entire time continuing the light banter. "Nakikita niyo yung kalabaw na yun?" Pao cried out, "Yun ang drop zone ko. La-land ako derecho sakay sa likod niya! Ha!" Everyone laughed.

I rushed on like everyone else, but Nigel stopped me before I could step onto the plane. "Uh, T&T, I think you would need to wear a weight vest. You're too light. You need to be heavier so you can hold yourself steady against the wind," he said as he handed me a vest that must have weighed a ton. The vest was soooooooooooo heavy, my knees almost buckled; I could barely walk. Probably seeing the concern and the question in my mind, both Nigel and The Colonel reassured me that it won't feel as heavy up there. They told me I probably won't even feel that I'm wearing one.

"You need it. Otherwise, we'd just wait for you to float down to the ground," Nigel said as he chuckled. Pao and I looked at Lovie and Rob. Both were grinning from ear to ear, waving. "I'm going on the next plane up," Rob cried out, "I want to see you guys land."

With that, we were off.

The adrenalin rushed soon after we boarded the plane and reached full speed as the plane ascended. There were no seats. Everyone sat on the floor until it was time for us to take our positions by the door. The regular jumpers were to go first. On the way up, they were very encouraging. The noise of the plane engine made any form of conversation impossible so we communicated mostly in sign/body languages. A smile here. A tap on the shoulder there. Two thumbs-up. Soon it was my turn. The Colonel pointed to me and signalled for me to take my position. (Man, I'm getting goosebumps and a queasy stomach even as I type this! Susko! And that's just from reminiscing! Haha! 'D)

Half my body in. Half my body out. The ground seemed like a long, long, looooooooong way down. Well, I was 4,000 ft above ground. It was literally a long way down. Oh, God.

Our jumpmaster gave me the look, matched by a thumbs-up. He was asking me if I will jump. Split second moment of terror. At that point, I fully understood the meaning of namatay nang dahil sa pride. There was absolutely no way I was going to go back down on the plane. Haha! 'D

"Don't panic, T&T," I thought, taking one deep breathe and blowing it out in an effort to calm myself. Mantra: must remember instructions....must remember instructions.....

With one nod, I jumped off the plane.

X-POSITION!

"One-one thousand! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Hahaha! Stupid weighs-a-ton weight vest apparently wasn't heavy enough! Nigel and The Coronel weren't kidding when they said I may be too light. I was literally tumbling through air, and the cool (or scary, depending on how adventurous you are) part about that was that I could not see anything but blue skies. No point of reference. I had no way of knowing if I was right-side-up or upside-down.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I continued screaming, even as my mind tried to make sense of what-one-thousand I should be in already. But there was no point in trying to continue my count. I had lost track and my mind was a blank. I kept on screaming until I was pulled back with a yank. My main chute had thankfully opened on time. I looked up, laughing with relief, to see a green and yellow canopy. It was neither tangled nor askew. YEY!!!!! 'D

For the next three minutes or so (although it did feel much, much (!) longer), I floated around in awe. At an altitude of 3,000-ft (yes, you drop quite fast without a chute =)), everything seems flat. It was like I was standing on top of a table with a map laid out before me. There were no shapes. Just green and brown spaces, broken by road lines. (If you click on the pic to make it larger, I'm the person hanging from the chute caught in the "valley" between the two clouds. I swear. That's me. Hahaha! 'D)

At 3,000-ft, there was also apparently no sound. The world below is too far. The only sounds I could hear were the soft crackling of the radio that was attached to my harness, and the constant flapping of my chute against the wind. Tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak...imagine the sound of a tent flapping. That's pretty much how the chute sounded.

Ironically, on my way up, I was prepared for the adrenalin rush, the screams and the noise. They don't call skydiving an extreme sport for nothing. What I was not prepared for was the the sense of peace. It was beyond quiet. At 3,000 feet, there was peace. (On cue: From a distance....haha. Sorry, I couldn't resist. =D) At 3,000 feet, you are alone with your thoughts, far removed from the world below.

From a distance, I could see the other jumpers suspended with their colorful chutes, but the Coronel and the pilot had been careful to put enough time and space between us. There was no way we could shout out and hear each other.

I enjoyed myself tremendously up there. I thought of myself as a puppet hanging from a string, slowly being brought down in the gentlest way possible. At a certain altitude, things began to slowly take shape. It was like having monopoly pieces rise up from the flat map that laid before me just minutes ago. Quite strangely, the sensation I felt at that point was that the ground was rising up to meet me, as opposed to me floating down to it.

Nigel's instructions crackled through the radio occasionally. He was guiding us toward the pre-agreed drop zone. "T&T, Quarter right....", "Pao, full turn....", "Eric, quarter left...", "Joel, just go straight..."...It was a one-way radio. OK, it was probably a two-way radio, but since both my hands were hanging on--literally!--for dear life (haha), there was no way I can communicate back to clarify. One must listen intently to the instructions and trust the person below.

Skydiving, I realized back then, is only terrifying on two distinct "oh-no-seconds". The first "Oh, no!" comes right before you decide to jump off the plane, half your body in, half your body out. The second hits you at about 100 feet above ground. The second "Oh, no!" happens as soon as you realize that you can't remain suspended forever, that, in a few seconds, you are going to hit ground, and that unless you do it correctly, you're going to be in for a crash landing.

Maybe it was this sudden realization that stirred a mild panic inside me. I could see the drop zone. I was heading straight toward it. Then I heard the radio crackle. Nigel's voice came on air. I thought he gave me a signal to pull left. I did, although I did not quite understand why he was asking me to do so. The drop zone was straight ahead. (It was only after the fact that I realized he was talking to someone else, not me. Ack!)

"T&T, pull right," Nigel's direction came crackling over the line. What-the....?! Didn't he ask me to pull left just a few minutes ago?! (It was only after the fact that I realized that he was correcting my position because I wasn't supposed to pull left in the first place! Haha. 'D)

I hesitated a bit, unsure of what he wanted me to do. In the meantime, trust me, 100 feet can go pretty fast--or at least it seemed like it can go pretty fast! Hahaha! 'D

"Pull right, T&T," Nigel repeated over the radio. I tried desperately, but I was having a hard time. I was landing against the wind and the gushing wind against my chute made it difficult for me to steer. Darn it, I was not only light, I was also a weakling! Haha.

I heard Nigel's voice over the radio, although admittedly, at that point, the only thing I could hear IN MY HEAD was "T&T, pull right!" I was still trying desperately to correct my position. Darn it! Stupid wind was too strong for me. I have to put more effort into it, I thought. I decided I was going to give it my all! With one big struggle, I managed to pull right! Thing is, because I put in too much effort, I ended up pulling all the way down! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

What did The Colonel say about what happens when you pull one rope all the way down? You take a sharp turn! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

So there I was I having visions of a Perfect 10 landing on the drop zone (with grace and flair), only to turn 90 degrees to the right at less than 100 feet! I realized as soon as I pulled all the way that I made a big mistake. No. Actually, not big. H.U.G.E!!! Instead of heading straight toward the drop zone, I took a sharp turn and headed for the trees!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I was literally screaming as I raised my feet as high as I could, narrowly missing the highest branches.

And what did The Colonel say about what happens when you land with the wind instead of against it? You hit the ground at breakneck speed!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!! Hahaha! 'D

I did manage to attempt to brake by pumping both ropes repeatedly after I cleared the trees. For the record, I did manage to hit the ground with my two feet. I only enjoyed a split-second moment of relief though, because as soon as my feet hit the ground, I found myself tumbling repeatedly. Head. Butt. Feet. Head. Butt. Feet. Head. Butt. Feet.... I must have tumbled at least five times before I lost momentum and stopped on my back. I had landed, quite comically, not too far from the carabao that Pao pointed out before we went up.

I laid still for a moment. I was muddied. My helmet was askew. I was wearing a heavy parachute kit on my back, not to mention a vest that weighed a ton. The only thing I could hear was my breathing.

"OK, dear God. I am not dead," I remember thinking, "Since I prayed intensely last night, I hope this also means I am NOT paralyzed. This really isn't the time to teach me a lesson...." Hahaha! I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I slowly wiggled my fingers. YEY!!! 'D

I gently tried to move my feet. First the left. YEY!!! 'D

Then the right. YEY!!! 'D

It was all I needed. I said a silent prayer of thanks as I turned my head slowly. At about the same moment, I saw Rob and a few of the other jumpers rushing through the trees towards me.

"Are you OK?!" he cried out before he could even reach me. "Don't move!"

"Even if I wanted to, I can't!" I shouted, "This darn vest weighs more than I do!"

"Darn it, T&T! You scared me!" he cried out as soon as he reached me, the entire time reminding me not to get up.

Wiggle your fingers. I already did. Move your feet. Done. Do you feel any pain? No, I don't. Are you sure? Yes, I am. Help me get up.

Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. I had survived. I had lived to tell. Granted, I barely lived to tell, but I did. Hahaha! 'D

Pao who jumped after me, rushed to me soon after he landed (perfectly, with flair, on the drop zone). He was doubled up in laughter, possibly mostly from relief at the sight of me standing. He had watched me steer off-course as he hung from the air. He claims he was screaming the entire time along with me. Hahaha! 'D

"M! (T&T's maiden family name. =)) Competitive ka talaga! Nagloloko lang naman ako nung sinabi kong magla-land ako sa likod ng kalabaw. Nilagyan mo pa ng level of difficulty. In-attempt mo pang kumabit sa puno!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! 'D

That night, I heard the 8:30 p.m. mass at Magallanes to thank God for the fact that I was alive. They say the helmet, the heavy weight vest and the sturdy parachute kit may have actually protected me during the tumble,but I know better. The entire time, HE was The One protecting me from the one person who can do me most harm. Myself. Haha! 'D

I used to say that skydiving was one of those things I put on my list of Things-to-Do-Before-I-Die. I'm actually glad that I got to do it, but not before I died. I'm glad I got to do it before I became SENSIBLE. A mere decade later, I can't even imagine myself doing it all over again. And, yes, I can only laugh and shake my head over how foolhardy and stupid I was back then. Haha! 'D

Then again, darn it! I have quite a story to tell my grandchildren. Haha! 'D

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My body was sore and stiff for more than two whole weeks after my crash landing. After work, I would regularly go to my high school best friend, Mao, who was a doctor. "I told you not to jump from that plane! Nakinig ka ba?! Hindi! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah....! Ano susunod mong gagawin?! Tatalon ka sa building?! Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah....." Despite all his incessant blubbering, I knew deep inside that he cared--at least enough to take me to the hospital in case I was really not OK. Haha! (For obvious reasons, I could not tell Mother who was also a doctor. I was too darn scared that she would kill me--after I survived the jump! Hahaha! 'D)

Quite recently, niece Patita jumped off from what must have been four or more steps up. I think she almost gave Sister Pusjing a heart attack.

"PATITA!" Sister Pusjing cried out in a stern voice,"IS THAT SAFE?!" (Yes, my sister is not one to just say "Don't do that!". She has to explain. Hahaha!)

Patita looked sufficiently apologetic. "No, Mom," she mumbled, looking down. Then, as if not being able to contain the feelings bubbling up inside her, she broke into a wide grin. "But, Mom," she continued as she chuckled, "it's fun!" Hahaha! 'D

Sister Pusjing rolled her eyes, then squinted, focusing her stare at me. I held my hands up, "Hey, don't look at me. I had nothing to do with that."

Deep inside, however, I was laughing. I, of course, had a single secret thought: "You go, girl!" HAHA! 'D

STORY TELLING: PART 2

After going through one entire issue, I belatedly realized that the publishers have posted an invitation on the back page:

Story Philippines welcomes and considers submissions of new fiction stories and one-act plays under 7,000 words from Philippine citizens or individuals of Philippine ancestry. Please send all submissions to englishmpublishing@yahoo.com. Only e-mail submissions with complete name and contact details will be considered. We look forward to discovering new Philippine fiction.

Hmmnn....time to get those creative juices going. =)

First, I must find time to breathe. Haha! =)

STORY TELLING / APRIL, 2008

After almost 15 years in Marketing, very few things make me sit up and take notice. This one did.

I got a text from the Boss telling me to expect a call from one JB about a possible print ad in JB’s mag. I sent an obligatory OK message, the entire time thinking it would be another one of those things I would have to do because I was told to do so. I have not even heard of the mag before.

I got the call. JB asked if I would be open to creating a “fictional story” for my print ad. “Uh….what exactly do you mean?” I asked, quite honestly perplexed. Years of experience with Ad Board and BFAD substantiations have left me wary about the term “fictional”. Everything must be based on truth. What on earth is he talking about?

JB sought to explain, that creating a “fictional print ad” is more consistent with the magazine’s creative intent, and that he was hoping I would be open to it. He can do the straightforward print ad, he said, if I insisted on it. It really wouldn’t be an issue. It’s just that….well, it’s just that he’s hoping I would say yes to the fictional stuff.

“Maybe it would be best if I send you samples of the magazines,” he volunteered, “I can even e-mail you copies of the print ads we have recently done for some of our clients.”

I told him it would probably be best.

He sent me these.

Here's hoping that you will actually be able to read the copy when you click on the images to enlarge. They blew me away. =)

In this age of technology, fast lives and hard sell, it is nice to be reminded that, yes, there ought to be room for the small things. The soft things. The stuff that are, quite ironically, real.

I can’t wait for their treatment of MY print ad. =)

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STORY is published by English M Publishers, Inc.. and is distributed by Mega Magazines Publication Inc. (MMPI). Call 6347744 (MMPI) or 4145957 (English M) for details.

Methinks you’d enjoy it if you’re the type who likes to read. =)

STREET FOOD: PART 2! =D

My love affair with Bacolod fare started in childhood. My dad was based there for a while when we were kids, and although I never really got to visit him there, I've always wondered what he was doing. Because he was away most days, whenever he comes home (most weekends, actually), he would haul Sister Pusjing, Brother Ige and me off into the car and drive us somewhere "magical". It need not necessarily be anything grand nor expensive. Trips with the Father meant going off to Calamba to visit Jose Rizal's ancestral home (I remember thinking after seeing JR's bed, "This is it?! This larger-than-life national hero is this small?!") or taking a trip to nearby Nayong Pilipino to have our pics taken next to "Mayon", the "Vintas" and the "Rice Terraces" or going to the old Cash & Carry where--as kids--we practically lit up at the thought of being able to buy PX Pringles and Chips Ahoy. Hahaha! 'D

It just occurred to me that my unquenchable thirst for new things and experiences stems from the thrill of visiting new places with the Father. Hmmmmmnnnnn....=)

In any case, it was in one of these "mini-trips" that Father first introduced me to Bacolod fare. I remember we were in some trade pavillion and I was clutching my newly-bought, yellow Monkeys-In-A-Barrel. Prized possession! (Yes, we went to a trade fair where they sell regional stuff, and I chose to buy Monkeys-In-A-Barrel. Why they had such in a native regional trade fair is something I've never bothered to explain even to myself. Haha! 'D)

I remember sitting down in one of the makeshift canteens, surveying the menu when Father's eyes lit up. He looked up to the waiter and excitedly asked, "Meron kayong La Paz Bachoy, To?", grinning from ear to ear, pretty much like a kid on Christmas morn. (Remember, this was back in the day when Chicken Bacolod, Mang Inasal, etc. where unknown in Manila.) He then went on excitedly about how good La Paz Bachoy is, and as a kid, I remember thinking it's weird that he will choose to order bachoy in a "restaurant". Then again, I thought, well, I like bachoy anyway, so what the heck! Haha.

When the waiter set down each of our La Paz Bachoys, I remember looking up at Father quite confused, the entire time thinking, "This is not bachoy. This is mami with chicharon!" See, I was used to the Tagalog bachoy which Mother would often serve for lunch or dinner. The Tagalog bachoy had innards and sili leaves and it was eaten with rice. The bachoy that was set before me had yellow noodles, slivers of pork, an egg and chicharon sprinkled on top! 'Twas my first taste, and I've got to say, it was love at first bite! Yum! ^_^ My love affair with Chicken Inasal came much later, but it has been going on since. =)

With the mushrooming of inasal places all over the metro, eating such has become relatively easy. While I will be the first to admit that I like eating in Chicken Bacolod, Bacolod Chicken House, Mang Inasal, etc., etc., there is something about J.T. MANUKAN. I suppose it has much to do with the ambience. Haha. While the food in the other restaurants is good, you eat them in interior-designed, airconditioned spaces. At J.T., there is no airconditioning, and the tables are set next to a busy street. The chicken is BBQd across the street and brought to your table in rattan plates lined with banana leaves. It's actually very low-key, but apparently very popular. We'd always arrive at J.T. to find a good mix of ex-truck drivers mixed in with the young families and the Greenhills donyas. =) It doesn't matter if you're in your Sunday dress with coiffed hair or if your in your basketball jersey or if in your pambahay. Everyone is welcomed at J.T. All these combined, I suppose, makes for a Bacolod fare experience that is a tad bit more authentic. =)

J.T. refers to Joel Torre. Yes, Joel Torre, the actor. His movie posters are strewn all over the place. I actually find them (the posters, I mean) quite charming. There was this one poster that caught my eye. A staring contest with Joel Torre. Can you win? I think not. Haha!

Still, people go to J.T. not for the chance to hobnob with celebrities (although they have been known to frequent the place), but for the food.

Hubby Sweet and I, for example, agree that among all the La Paz Bachoys we have tried all over the metro, J.T.'s is the one we like most. Unlike the rest, it is not too salty. The saltiness of the broth is pretty much only derived from the saltiness of the chicharon. I suspect they make the broth from scratch--from bones as opposed to bouillon cubes. =) In any case, if they DO use bouillon cubes, you wouldn't taste it in the broth. The soup is a good mix of natural meat goodness, the slight sweet note of onions, and the very slight-salty-rich taste of fat from the chicharon. Yum! ^_^ It can actually be a meal in itself, but the Hubby and I usually share because we have to leave room for the main dish! =D

One must taste the Inasal, of course. Hay, naku! Slightly sweet, slightly salty. Perfect, especially when you dip it into sinamak, soy sauce and calamansi. WOW!!! I'm salivating even as I type. Hahaha! 'D Man, seriously. I AM SALIVATING. Haha! Yum, yum! ^_^ Granted, I like the garlic rice better in the other joints, but it's basically because they put more annato oil, compared to the J.T. garlic rice version. Hey, I'm not complaining though. I love J.T.!!! (The chicken, I mean. Haha! =D)

The last time we went, I also discovered something new. I'd usually go for Paa (thigh and leg), Baticolon (gizzard) and isol (chicken tails). Last time, I discovered the Corazon! Corazon is chicken heart. Too much to take for most people (Hubby Sweet included), but I just love, love its flavor and gummy texture. *Sigh* ^_^

We were running errands the last time we went so we didn't have time for dessert. Oh, well. Maybe next time. We did find time to buy from one of those stalls that line the street. You know, the ones selling Pangasinan puto and kutsinta. Each brown bag costs P35.00. I remember trying the kutsinta before and loving it. They were out this time though so I had to settle for the puto. Sadly, not as good. (I've been spoiled rotten by the heavenly orange mini-puto from Marikina, haha.) Still, I belatedly thought that if we had bought the puto before we sat down in J.T., it would have perfectly matched the bachoy since the white Pangasinan mini-putos tasted much like puto Manapla. Oh, well. Next time! And yes, for sure, there will be a next time! =D

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J.T. Manukan is along Gilmore Ave. To get there, drive down the Greenhills side of Ortigas Ave. Cross the Santolan Intersection. Beyond the Santolan intersection, Ortigas Ave. weirdly changes its name to Gilmore. Haha! Look for J.T. Manukan on the right side. It might be easy to miss for first timers. Tip: it's right next to Carrot Cake and Pan De Manila. If you see the gigantic signs of these two shops, stay on the right side na. As far as I know, parking is allowed along the street because that's what we usually do. Still, it would be best to check with the "parking attendant" before you leave your car. =)