11. Proposal

Let's start with the radical. Ban all motor vehicles in Metro Manila. Let people walk to work. It's good for the heart. We all need to make 10,000 steps a day to keep ourselves healthy. Detoxify the air and bring down our carbon footprints. Revive the horse and carriage industry for the seniors who cannot walk that much.  It will make them happy as it will revive their memories of days way gone by. What are we going to do with all these cars? Use them outside Metro Manila. What about medical emergencies? Exempt them. Fire? Exempt them, of course. Business? Let them Skype. Students? Give them extra credits for PE. Supply trucks? Limit them and try drones. It's not simple, but really all we need is political will, and it is that simple. We get rid of traffic and take the Big Three out of business. As Ariel Ureta used to say, "Sa ikauunlad ng bayan, bisikleta ang kailangan." (To develop the country, we need the bikie.) :D

10. Longhand

After a dismal showing in the midterms during my sophomore year in law school largely attributable to poor handwriting, I decided I was going to turn my life around. I studied calligraphy. Somebody lent me a book; and over the Christmas break of 1992, I practiced  writing the italic font. I learned that their was a way of holding a pen to ensure fluency and consistency. The grip should be not too loose nor too tight, but enough for somebody to grab the pen and take it from my hand. I studied the rhythm, slanted it a bit too the right, and made an effort for the little flourishes on the dots and crosses. I practiced and scribbled on any paper I could find. I searched for a calligraphy pen and found the flat-tipped Rotring Art Pen. The ink was pricey, especially so that my allowance was appropriated for photocopying case materials. But it paid off soon, and in one exam in public corporations, my professor gave me more than a hundred points. My classmates teased me about it as everyone had struggled with the subject. I kept my blue book for that exam as sort of trophy for my efforts. In reality, I never had to worry about flunking any exam due to poor handwriting --  bad analysis and shaky memory notwithstanding. It seemed, consciously or otherwise, teachers gave points for writing that was clear, fashionable, and Italian. Soon, I used the Art Pen one final time for the bar exams, which I passed in 1996. Then, after signing the attorney's roll,  I threw it away and started working on computer keyboards almost exclusively.   Today, the only thing I do with pen and paper is write checks. Sometimes there would be days that I didn't have to sign anything, because written communications are done by email or SMS. Once in a while, I find myself unable to sign at all. It's like my hand became senile and could not remember how to write -- a strange atrophy of the writing hand. On these occasions, I close my eyes and recall the days I had with the Art Pen and it all comes back to me -- the grip, the strokes slanting a bit to the right, and the short flourishes on the dots and crosses. Were it not for that day, the day I  decided I would learn calligraphy, I would be a clerk somewhere, still writing in longhand.

9. Mantequilla

 

I was eight years old when I had my first encounter with mantequilla. It was in a corner of my grandfather's gas-fueled fridge -- this red can with a plastic cap. My grandfather said I could spread it over bread and I did. It lit up my face after the first bite and henceforth it did wonders to my breakfasts, humble or otherwise. When I got married and I had the chance to do groceries with my wife, I was amused to see this product again, the red can with plastic cup, still in the same  trade dress after all these years.  When most butters are sold as blocks or sticks, this one the deviant red can, presents itself as butter in a container. I dip a knife into it and scrape off a portion, spread it on hot bread. It melts and that familiar creamy, salty, light-textured, semi-solid, semi-liquid indulgence caresses my tongue. I wash it off with coffee and the memory of the mantequilla of my youth -- and probably my grandfather's too -- brings all those feelings back, a legacy that can be passed on to the next generation of butter fans. Never mind the hypertension.

8. In the foxhole with you know who

The first thing I'd tell him is that I don't smoke. So, I don't expect him to smoke. Besides, it's going to give away our position if it billows from the hole. He better not have a nicotine itch during the ordeal.  Then, I'd tell him to stop playing with the Playstation Portable, because it makes him unmindful of what's going on. If somebody attacks from his side and he's nose is buried in that console, we're toast. If he starts drooling, then I'd tell him the former President is out to get us. He's going to fume and it might stop the drool; although, if I push it too much he might go bonkers.  So there, given the foregoing circumstances in the foxhole, I can trust him to watch my back, unless, of course, he has a new Saturday date and he takes out his IPhone to show me her picture, and I lose him in all his excitement.  

7. Note on PNoy's 2015 State of the Nation Address (SONA)

No. I don't expect to hear PNoy blaming his predecessor, Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, again for some dysfunctional institution in this country. The blame game is so low brow. It's the stuff of whiners and incompetents. In my office, the employee who has nothing but blame for  his co-workers is always the first to go. The employee has no solutions, just problems. Who needs him? If you are the President and you have the entire resources of the state to back you up, the limit to what you can do is only the limit of your imagination. Now, if you have limited imagination, the blame game is your default mode. If a thing is messed up and you say it's your predecessor who did it, it get's knocked off your to do list. At least, you lead people to believe that it's off your list. Yet, in the time continuum, the present is always the result of the past. If you are president now, then regardless of who created the problem, it is your problem now. There is no escape from your responsibility. It's been a ho-hum five years. The reference to the former President Arroyo for some problem we have now is going to sound contrived. So, I don't expect PNoy to blame her again for something in this year's SONA. Then again, he always managed to frustrate me every year. 

6. Why not Grace Poe?

How many times did this country elect a minor league senator to the presidency? Correction -- how many more times? Grace is the stuff of legend, the daughter of the fallen film hero, Fernando Poe, Jr.  poised to reclaim what her father lost to electoral fraud in 2004. Her press kit says she stirred the Senate to pass the Freedom of Information Bill. Yet, the effort isn't enough for the bill to become a law, because everyone else is dragging it to make sure it doesn't apply to the current administration.  That only shows the limits of her clout. Yet, for whatever good  she has done in her five-year stint in government,  the crucial question is: can she scale it? Will she be able to replicate it a thousandfold for the big league politics that is the presidency? She has no big league team, never mind a political machinery.  Chiz Escudero, once her father's boy wizard of politics, is her only big league teammate, so far. That's not yet a team; and it's late in the game. Rumors are circulating that she's flying around the country using Danding Cojuangco's helicopters. So, is he -- a Marcos crony -- her big league teammate or coach? It makes you think there's a catch somewhere. Further, the legal questions that are being raised on her residency and citizenship make it uncertain if she can hurdle a Supreme Court challenge to her candidacy. Some people spend a lifetime trying to scale up the good things they do for the world with no success. Some people are luckier than others. Maybe Grace is lucky? Maybe the legend will live on and the daughter can finish the late father's work of national redemption? Everyday, it's all becoming clear that a vote for her is like a Hail Mary shot. Yet, if we have only one shot to make things right and to elect the person who's got her heart in the right place, why not trust, put our names on the line, and take the shot? Bahala na Poe. 

5. Why not Miriam Defensor Santiago?

Who can remember how many times Miriam ran for the Presidency? In one of those times, she announced her candidacy wearing a Star Wars hat with light saber in hand while invoking the Force. No, I'm not exaggerating. It was this kind of bizarre approaches to political entertainment, which she employs every now and then, that lent credibility to Ramos dirty tricks department's thesis that she was a lunatic. Yet, she's the only intellectual in politics these days. Fits of rage, however, and the occasional blunders -- like voting not to open the second envelope in the Erap Impeachment and the promise to jump from a plane if Erap was arrested (he did) after which she quipped "I lied" followed by an imagined maniacal laughter -- make her suspect. Miriam is amiable. She should stay in the Senate forever. But president? Let's ask Jun, her husband, the most dedicated Miriam minion in the land.

4. Why not Jejomar Binay?

Robin Hood didn't get rich. He was a bandit not a plunderer. He didn't have wives and children. Binay isn't Robin Hood. Binay is the real deal. Binay's press people, left with no other way to spin a losing proposition -- that Binay was not a plunderer -- is now pulling on the myth of Robin Hood to win Binay votes. Binay built the cheapest building that 2.7 billion pesos of taxes could buy. Meanwhile, he gave his Makati voters free education, free healthcare, and free birthday cakes. Is that a bad deal if you don't really care who runs the government as long as your kids go to school for free, you don't worry about doctor's bills, and you get a birthday cake? Then, we all get a bonus because Ellen (the wife and once the Mayor), Jun-Jun (the son and Mayor), Nancy (the daughter and the senator) or Abby (the other daughter and the congresswoman), can replace him once his term is over. If that is not enough, they will throw in the Binay family dog and cat in the lineage. That is how dedicated they are. The Binay family has built the template for monopolizing local politics. Now, they're ready to bring the Binay franchise to the national level. We're all going to have free education for our kids, free healthcare  and free birthday cakes forever. Robin Hood is a myth. Binay is the real deal.

3. Why not Rodrigo Duterte?

There was a wedding in Davao City.  After the affair, the gun afficionados among them were brought to the range for target practice. The folks got all excited as they showed off their stuff, compared calibers and makes. Then, the targets were ushered in -- the dogs from the city pound.  These were the catch from Davao City's no stray dogs ordinance.  Dogs, left to fend for themselves, littering the queen city of the south, stinking, probably rabid-- they had no use, why not for gun training? So, the guests had their day shooting off the dogs one by one. You could hear the dogs yelping in pain as bullets pierced through their bodies. These were dogs not people.  But somehow you think the rumors of death squads roaming around Davao City to protect it from bad elements seem plausible. They shoot dogs if they're strayed or rabid. They shoot people if they're criminals. The lawyers keep it legal. If you want to live in a country where there are no stray dogs and criminals, Duterte is your man. The man has a vision. Iron will with an iron hand.  So why not Duterte?

2. Why not Mar Roxas?

He's beyond good and evil. He's the Nietzsche guy. The man with the will to power. If this were your high school elections, he's the man always hovering around the teacher, carrying the teacher's books, bringing him coffee, mopping the floor, and dusting off the blackboard. He annoys you for being there all the time. You know he wants to be president so bad that he agreed to run for vice president. You have the feeling that he always had the tough job. A plane crashed and he's there. A freak explosion, robbers breaking in a jewelry shop with hammers, a typhoon devastation, sometimes just bad traffic -- he was there. He'd do anything for your vote in 2016. He even got the goods on Binay and probably everyone else running against him. Man, he's ready and you know he wants it.  All these years that he's been working as an errand boy of the Republic are now due for payback.  So why not Mar? He's the Nietzsche guy.

1. One Paragraph A Day

Facebook did it. Twitter was a conspirator. They shrunk my brain. I used to write kilometric posts. Yet, for the past years, I've been confined to one-liners, two-liners at the most. My thoughts had to fit 140 characters, spaces and all. Then I had a dalliance with Sunday night  AM radio, which produced 200 podcasts. Bayan at Batas, we called it, a show in bloodied Taglish that had me chatting on a wide range of stuff from Tasadays to world history. My Kindle books have piled up from all that reading. Then, I decided enough is enough.  I'm taking a sabbatical from the broadcasts and the podcasts. I'm taking silence as a sport. I'm thinking, reflecting, calibrating the next move of this 21st century life. So today, I remember my late mentor, NVM Gonzalez, and his words about writing -- let them out into the wild, and they will find their own friends. A blog post from 2006 was discovered by a filmmaker and he said he's doing a film on it, with it (?) or inspired by it (?). Whatever it was that he said he was doing about it, it has lit up my passion for this blog again. Indeed, this blog continues to find friends long after I've left it.  Here, where my web writing adventures begun. Here, where I made enemies and friends. Here. I'm going back here. One paragraph a day. At least one paragraph a day.Yeah.

More from my wordpress blog, which I've sort of abandoned.

More photos of Caluagas

Landing in Calaguas

Upon setting foot in Calaguas, I blurted that I feel like Magellan landing in Limasawa Island. This is the real deal. Pristine waters, dramatic rock formations, beautiful landscapes. There is so much to discover in this place. Just to memorize the islands and the islets scattered around it will take hours even days. 

The trip from Vinsons to Calaguas though is quite a challenge. We left port in Vinsons at around 8:00 am and went through the southern canal towards the Pacific. 

This is a pleasant ride. The wave measurement website said the waves would be at 1.2 meters on the trip, I wondered what it meant.

They're moderate but for those who are not used to it, these waves give you a semi-roller coaster ride. To counter the waves, I tried sitting on lotus position, which was a bad idea. It gave me backache. So, I decided to stand up for most of the trip. 

The cellphone signal was intermittent so I managed to make a few phone calls with the expectation that the island is off line. An hour and half later, the islands became more visible and surprised us with great views. After two hours, we managed to get to the opposite side of the Pacific in Calaguas Island, which is what they call Mahabang Buhangin. 

Can this compare with Boracay, Panglao, or Bantayan?

You be the judge. Come over here. I'm going for a swim.

Sent from my iPhone

Selfie on the pumpboat from Vinsons to Calaguas

Sunrise at Labo, Camarines Norte

We're here at Villa Eusebia Labo, Camarines Norte

The estimated time of arrival was spot on. Ten hours after we left Pasay City. The trip could be faster were it not for the traffic in San Pablo City. Also, the first stop over was not that necessary or it didn't have to be longer than ten minutes.

Most part of the trip was comfortable and even entertaining, especially the coastal road leg from Atimonan to Gumaca. But it became a drag at the later part from Sta. Elena to Labo which seemed like two hours of relentless zig zag.

Our host for tonight is Mang Andin, through the generosity of AMT. We had crispy tadyang, binagoongan and hot sisig and rice for dinner. This is capped with fresh watermelons and buko juice.

We're finishing the night on the karaoke machine. It's a bit loud. We should really go back to the days of pianos and guitars. Anyways, I'll just sing my wife's song, "Each day with you", and call it a night. Calaguas beckons.







Sent from my iPhone

We're here yey!

Update later

Awa ng Diyos, wala pa rin kami dun

It's been a long trip.  I feel that if I met my wife at the start of this trip for the first time as a stranger,  by the end of this trip,  I'd be married to her already. We're  in Labo but the station is still elsewhere. The BlackBerry and the IPhone have conked out and I'm down to one working phone. I hope it lasts for the rest of the trip until I could get the others charged.

Sta. Elena to Labo is a wild ride.

The bus was swinging,  bags were falling off,  water containers were rolling on the bus floor, and Mr.  Snore was wide awake. This is one rugged terrain that could rival Kennon road of Baguio. The good thing is we're almost there. A few more minutes of this and I think I need those anti-dizziness tablets. I've finished off all the food stuff in my bag,  and is just left with two bottles of Gatorade that I'm saving for the boat trip to Calaguas. It's been a cool trip. The bus aircon worked fine and the weather here is somewhat damp. You wouldn't know that it's summer. It must have rained.

The Home stretch.

We're now in Calauag. The next town is Sta. Elena and then our destination for the bus, Labo. Based on the map, this last leg is all mountain terrain. On the ground, however, the route gives you occasionally a glimpse of the Calauag Bay bathing in the afternoon sun.

Gumaca, Quezon

We  had a ten minute break at the pit stop of Philtranco in Gumaca, Quezon. Based on the map, we're halfway done. But we've spent a good seven hours on the road already. This means the pace is going to quicken as we head on to Bicol. We're expected to be at Labo at 5:00pm. Then, we proceed to the Luzarraga Ancestral home for dinner  at 6:00pm.

At the pit stop, I was looking for local delicacies and John, our staff member, suggested I get the special tikoy, as it was Gumaca's specialty. What is unique with this tikoy is that it's neatly  covered by layers of dried palms that make it look like corn with the cover. I peeled off about four layers of palm, before I got to the tikoy, which was covered in plastic. It seemed like a lot of work so I told Macoy,  our maintenance guy in the office to get a knife to open the thing as I was getting impatient with it. Finally,  he hands it to me partially without the plastic. I got a pinch, tasted it, and handed the rest of it to Macoy to share with the others. Well,  it's tikoy alright, just a tad creamier than the average.

I settled for the chicharon balat ng baboy and got surprised as it could compete with Lapid's in the market. Excellent find here in Gumaca,  Quezon.

Gumaca, Quezon

Atimonan, Quezon

Now, it gets interesting

We've passed Pagbilao and now are about to enter Atimonan, Quezon. According to the map, the road is near the coastline so I'm hoping to catch photos of the sea. The trouble is there's so much road construction going on and it gets irritating at times.

Atimonan got a bit notorious after a drug related violence involving money and policemen brought it to the headlines. Of course, you don't see that from the bus. The locals look peaceful from this vantage point, but you know violence is lurking somewhere.

The guy behind me is snoring again so that means its getting more comfortable. Jeez, I should congratulate him after this trip for having a good and relaxing sleep. Who knows, he must be a call center guy who hasn't slept for weeks.

Sent from my iPhone

It gets bumpy from here

The town is called Pagbilao, Quezon. In the 80s there was a hellish bus accident on this town that killed tens of passengers on their way to Lucena. The news hugged the headlines for weeks and that left me the only memory of this place. True enough, we've been swinging from left to right since we got here, but our bus driver doesn't seem to mind as we're doing about 90 kph. It's going to be hard getting a nap this part of the trip. Even the snoring guy behind me is now awake.

Lunch at Fermil"s

We stopped at Fermil's Fast Food for lunch. I had a bowl of beef stew and rice, which cost barely a hundred bucks. Not bad. I don't how they make money on that.

I saw bottles of lambanog on the stand but our staff told me there is a lot more lambanog where we're heading so there's no need to get one from here.

This lambanog links to a memory of a family, which happens to be that of my wife's great grandparents, Magdalena and Pedro Lecaroz, who brewed lambanog during the war to make ends meet. Their son, Aristeo, former Governor of Marinduque, recalls his life as a kutsero, tending to the horses, as his parents load the lambanog to the kalesa for delivery. Those events were barely 70 years ago. And I'm quite lucky having heard of that story from the Governor in one of our meetings in our efforts to sell one of the old couple's prime lands which they bought from their earnings in lambanog and other products. I have a feeling somewhere around this place a similar scene is happening where a couple and their son are tending to their lambanog deliveries. Of course, the world knows how to reward they who can brew good lambanog wherever and whenever.

Ah, I think of alcohol and this trip gets exciting.

"Sent via BlackBerry from Smart"

Looking for Ungasis in Tiaong, Quezon

We've moved on a bit faster as we entered the town of Tiaong, Quezon. I'm familiar with this place as this town is also a gateway to San Juan, Batangas where my wife is from. If we turn right at the corner of Chow King, that road leads us to San Juan where the beaches of Laiya are found.

But prior to my meeting my wife, Tiaong lived in my imagination as the hometown of Victorio Ungasis of Wanbol University, the nerdy character of Vic Sotto in the 70's sitcom, Iskul Bukol. Ungasis's mother n the show played by Dely Atay-Atayan was funnier with that thick tagalog accent of Quezon. Although, I haven't really met anyone in real life with that sing-song Tagalog of hers.

That show has left such a mark in my life that until now there is no other way that I describe people with messed up work and messed up lives, including messed up governments, but Iskul Bukol. I wonder what is the story behind Ungasis and Tiaong, Quezon.

"Sent via BlackBerry from Smart"

Traffic in San Pablo, Laguna

We're crawling here as the bus hits the urban areas of San Pablo City Laguna. Meanwhile, the guy behind me is snoring like a pig. This is one of the many hassles commuters have to live with. My Blackberry is also about to get its battery drained. It's just been three hours since we left.
"Sent via BlackBerry from Smart"

Preacher on the Bus

The stop over gets a little edgy for me as this preacher took the center of the bus to ask for donations.

Before that he distributed little envelopes to everyone. I returned the one he gave me because I thought it was a disturbance of my privacy. He then took the center, apologizes for disturbing us, and rattles off the mantras of giving and other quotes from the Bible. He then goes around asking for cash donations.

I was tempted a bit to demand for his DSWD permit. There is a regulation for this practice, and it requires solicitors to secure a DSWD permit before the can solicit for money from the public.

Ah, let's not ruin my day. So, I chose to ignore him as he gets his donations from the others on the bus. I wonder how much he makes in a day.





"Sent via BlackBerry from Smart"

Marvin B. Aceron's Location

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Marvin B. Aceron's Location