Makati Me.

LEFT, with nephew Hens

BELOW, "Frankie"the car, battled it out with the flood in Quezon City and Pasig

After Ondoy, checked in a Makati suite to get a restful week.

Although armed with a map of Makati, I kept getting lost because of the no left turns in several streets.

"Makati me" might be misconstrued as "pornographic line" but actually when texting, it just means " I am in Makati."

Whew! Baha sa Maynila.

PICTURES - At the gate of Greenwoods Village, and approach at Sandoval St.   

I was checking on a relative to see when we'd eat out and she started to say she was worried about the Pasig River which was quickly rising.  Then later, I saw water coming inside the bathroom in the house where I stay. I alerted my sis and she just said " oh it's just rain water and the drainage could not absorb it."  Fine.

Then water started to appear in my bedroom and in the other bedroom of the sunken portion of the house.  Oops.  I said, "there's flood, sis. "  And the rug in the living room started to get wet. Then my sis noticed and my bro in law got out of the bedroom, and we started to ACT. 

It was the first time in the twenty nine years that they've lived in a part of Quezon City that my sis' house got flooded (and their villlage).  The entire village was caught by surprise.  One house had its wall collapsed and water just rushed in.  This family's car got washed down and neighbour's small kids had to be rescued by neighbours.  

It was a bit late when me and my bro in law went to the garage and water was about to reach the floors of the cars.  My bro in law said, "we're late, let insurance pay for whatever damage there'd be."

I saw neighbours pushing a car into the flooded street to a higher ground and asked if they could do the same to the car I was using.  They agreed.  My bro in law decided to have his car moved, too.

The current was heavy and walking through the flood became dangerous.  One neighbour said he saw a dog drowned.

My mother's house in Fairview did not see the wrath of Ondoy.  No flood there.  

But loved ones who live in Cainta were not so lucky.  Their house backing to a creek got submerged earlier, and up to today, water is still inside the house.  But what is so disheartening is that the entire villages of Greenwoods, Mercedes, Parkwoods, etc are totally cut off from the rest of the world.  The streets leading to their villages, Mercedes and Sandoval are still waist deep in water.

The municipal government, it says, is doing all it can to resolve the problem.  I personally saw the misery.

People from the villages have been reduced to refugees -they have to ride on make shift "balsas" and "kariton" just to get out of their villages into the city streets of Pasig to do grocery and to get to the outside world, to work and to other places.

These Cainta villages sit on what used to be rice land, that's why water can enter rapidly but could not recede quickly.  The last time this happened was about ten years ago.  It took at least a week for the water to totally subside.

My heart bleeds for these people.  My relatives had to check into a hotel because they could no longer take riding the "balsa" which could be dangerous at times.  Depression sets in upon seeing their house still submerged in water.

Fortunately, the Pinoy is blessed with a terrific sense of humour.  This afternoon, I saw hundreds of families moving about in the flooded streets of Mercedes, tricycles, heavy trucks, SUVs, jeepneys all jockeying for position, but I was amazed at the calmness despite the tragedy.

I love the Pinoy.  I love our sense of patience and camaraderie.  Bless the Pinoy.

Hello.

by Lionel Richie

This is one of the cheesiest of L. Richie songs, but loved by "romantic" people like me.

I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?

I can see it in your eyes I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted, (and) my arms are open wide
'Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you ...

I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know

'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you ...

Hello, is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying ... I love you

The Gold Was Pure.

Like a promising love, the golden treasures on exhibit at the Ayala Museum were pure. First checked the Exhibit- Ring Of Fire- minutes before 5 pm today. Then headed to the Dioramas for a lesson in Philippine History, the Paintings of Zobel and to the Crossroads of Civilizations.

They closed the Ring of Fire Exhibit at 5:30 pm because of a Windows Event which was held at the Ground Floor and spilled to the entrance fronting the Cafe Museum. Masked men and women crowded the lobby; there were men on stilts and costumed performers.

At the Ring of Fire Exhibit and at the Dioramas, I mistook a museum patron for someone I thought I knew. But she was gracious enough to introduce herself although I bothered her deep appreciation of the exhibit. Jeez!

Seeing the Vietnamese, Thai, and Indonesian ceramics - vases, plates, and other earthenware- made me hungry so I crossed to the Cafe Museum for some cocktails and chicken wings.

I was a pure tourist tonight - waiting for spectacular surprises!

The air was humid, the white wine was strong, and the heart, empty.

I'll Be There.

I drove to Makati last night, and with the thousands of commuters, vans, cars, buses, dilapidated and new vehicles. Checked the Greenbelt(s), and landed at the Italian resto called Marciano's. I've been feeding myself noodles for the last four days - palabok, beef noodles, linguini, pancit, etc.

I'll be there at the Ayala Museum, for sure, tomorrow, Thursday, Sept. 24th at 5 pm then at the Museum Cafe.

Being Sorry.

The drivers were like maniac, infectious in their disregard for the norms in driving.

So there I was driving again for the first time in almost four years in the mean streets of Manila, and enjoying the pump in the adrenalin.

From Fairview going to the Mall of Asia, it took at least one and a half hours. The Elliptical Road was the bottleneck so we were craning our necks to check the directional arrows pointing to Quezon Avenue which would take us to Espana then to Quiapo, Kalaw and Roxas Boulevard.

I saw it first, EDSA, then my sister, but my bro in law said, "No, it's the next exit to the right." I was right, but it was already too late to make a right from the centre lane. So we had to circle again.

After shopping for things and things, which included maps of Metro Manila, Makati and Ortigas, and taking snacks, we headed back home. At the area near the Manila City Hall, my bro in law warned me, " stay on the right, you don't want to end up on the bridge going to Sta. Cruz." It happened to them last March and they ended up in Divisoria although it was not their intention to shop "baratan" style.

Anyways, my bro in law said, go straight and I followed my navigator. Ooops, the bridge was the one leading to Sta. Cruz. But I saw the backside of the old SM in Quiapo, so I immediately turned right to Echague.

We didn't mind the detour because we got to see the Echague of our childhood days when our Uncle and Aunt used to bring us to the Quinta Market and around Echague after the Friday Novena at the Quiapo Nazarene. Then we headed to the Ideal or Ever for an English movie and to Wa Nam for an early evening chow of Pancit and other Chinese delights.

We even passed by the "Ilse de Tulay" where my sisters and aunt used to buy Philippine handicrafts. We also passed F. Hidalgo where we used to take jeepney rides from Quiapo to our house in Sta. Ana and Mandaluyong.

Under the Quiapo underpass, I spotted Espana right away so I veered right instead of straight going to Andalucia.

But I'm back to form. After a week of driving, my eyes, legs and overall coordination have been oiled again for the aggressive yet defensive Manila-style driving.

But I'm really SORRY for uttering some ugly words. I was out of line. But at that moment, I was so frustrated and felt self pity. It's the raw emotion. To the person to whom I directed my wrenched feelings, please accept my apologies.

Nothing's changed. From Toronto to Manila, I'm still the same old person. But I'm alive here in the streets of EDSA, Commonwealth, Mindanao Avenue, and tonight in Ayala.

I wish there was something I could do to change the traffic flow and emotions - from frustrating "battle" necks to two-way, smooth travels.

Macau was once a scene in a James Bond movie, and remember, any Bond movie always involves a "car chase" which is very much akin to Manila driving.

Macau. Vegas-like casino city. If you're already with me, we'd definitely go. To bet some on slots and for more promising adventure.

Let Me Try Again.

I'm gonna try again.
An important event is worth all the effort and time and attention and frustration and devotion.

No matter how elusive or complex the project is, you have to give your 100% if you really want to succeed at it, and attain the desired maximum results.

Questioning the process is valid; wondering at the intricacies of it, acceptable.

Time is ticking. Countdown is essential.

If you defied oceans and mountains, seas and valleys to reach a destination then, you've gotta get dressed up for storms, hales, and dry spells along the way. A scout should always be prepared, as astronauts prepare rigidly to reach the moon and other heavenly bodies.

No need to debate whether your dream project is attainable or not; you cannot be sure unless you try all possible avenues. People bet on lottery using all sorts of number combinations, relying on dreams, random choices, lucky numbers and voodoo, sometimes.

I don't intend to use voodoo, yet.

Humour is essential when facing difficult personages and projects.

So, for second chances or try outs, psyching yourself becomes imperative. Its' like having abandoned a work out for sometime, the come back to the regimen can be a daunting task.

Plus I found the environment in Manila to be a lot different than the East Coast. Manilenos are still conservative like the true Pinoy so project appraisal, feasibility and actual implementation tend to be slower.

Let me try again, as Frank Sinatra sang.

By the way, I heard there's a museum called Ayala Museum; a museum is a favorite place for me when I go exploring places. In fact, we were discussing in Toronto the lack of museums, botanical gardens and theatres in Manila.

So, I'm gonna check out the Ayala Museum on Thursday, September 24th at 5 pm then head to the Museum Cafe at 7 pm. I want to sample their Asian Fusion cuisine; sounds interesting.

Hey, I can find my way now since I bought a map of Metro Manila and a map of Makati and Greenbelt, owing to the lack of GPS capabilities here.

The museum has a new exhibit , Ring of Fire - the First South East Asian Ceramics Festival starting 21st September till 4th October. I wonder if it has the staples of museums: ancient bones and art. Ancient things fetch higher prices on the market; they're rare allright and premium.

Wondering.

The lips of summer stammer in the grass,
Parched in heat,
Seared by passion,
And await the drizzle to cool the skin,
Bemoan a sigh
To touch the ground hearing heart’s thunder.

The eyes behold the farthest star,
Blinking as the bodies soar
To celestial heights,
Wond’ring, gazing
Into the Universe’s unfathomable depths,
‘Till tears cascade in awe
And fear for thy spell.

The soul leaps from its skel’ton
Of cold ribs and gelly blood,
Screams at the chain of veins that bars
Its breathing,
Freedom, freedom…
Love, love…
I am,
You are,
We should be.

The mind awaits the twin-ning of reasons,
Union in spirit,
Oneness in beings,
Harmony in dance,
Cadence in steps,
Blurring of bitterness,
Joy in our fate,
Bliss in the twists and turns of your minds.

Who's got my copy of Pride and Prejudice?

I brought my copy of Pride and Prejudice to read during my trip to Manila, and took it to my mother's and left it there accidentally.

When I returned, the book was no longer there. Looked for it. Apparently my eldest sis who's also visiting took it to her room and had been reading it since.

I had been accused before of being proud as in "mayabang," and stubborn as in "matigas ang ulo." I guess those people didn't really know me that well. My select few friends (select by my own choice) see me differently.

Pride as in "mataas ang ere" is different from proud as in confident and "may tiwala sa sarili." "Fussy old ways" is also different from "disciplined in his ways."

Earlier, I was checking the places where to listen to good jazz music and found three: Monk's Dream Bar, Jazz Rhythm and El Pueblo. I need a good navigator to get to any of the above, someone who also prefers jazz.

I miss my GPS. I was driving early last Sunday morning and it was pouring lakes of rain and I was not sure where I was going - North or South.

I had to call my bro in law - "I'm going to Pasig and I see Baclaran and Alabang, where am I?"

"What, you're in Baclaran?" "No, I see signs saying Baclaran."

"Uh, okay, you're in the right direction."

I was in EDSA.

Love is zero.

Tennis has a new superstar in Del Potro. He scored many aces during the last U.S Open Tennis championship.

Love is a score of zero in tennis. That's a funny way to tell you you're losing: LOVE.

Love is so positive sounding but zero is so nothing.

Love. Zero.

The umpire has decided it was love.

But a player can challenge the line umpire's call : Can an instant replay be done to change the score?

A Very Different Holiday.

I had been feeling absolutely testy regarding various issues lately that the taste of Red Horse Beer beckoned in the early evening hours some days ago. And I totally forgot I had a tooth extraction the following morning, and because of the alcohol in my system, the anesthesia didn't work they way it should.

Then again, the restlessness never abated and I told my sister I had to go out and relax. So I joined her and her amigas last night for a night of dancing and a birthday celebration at the Conway at the Shang in Makati.

It was good the band Spirit of 67 was playing, so the music was so...60's, which I love. I even requested for the song FLY ME TO THE MOON to be sung, and the band did a very good Frank Sinatra rendition. You should have been there either dancing with me or just simply being with me.

My two other sisters and a brad in law were supposed to join us later, but the other sister fell asleep.

There were quite a few handsome couples (D.I. and patron) who really went for the ballroom dances. Since I didn't have my dance partner, I could not really dance ballroom. My sister who dances a little cha cha picked up easily the basic rumba I taught her last night. Swing, both Manila and the international style, and boogie were both favorites in our group.

My sis and her amigas were all great dancers.

I missed my dancing partner. In ballroom dancing, having your regular dance partner is very important. So most of the dances I did were based on the music - maski pops and twist and boogie and swing and cha cha and jerk and maski pops again.

But it was fun. At least for about five hours, the cares and worries and frustrations were temporarily tucked far, far away into the deepest section of the memory lobes.

And of course, absolut vodka helped, in a way too.

Decent and True.

I've never hurt a cat or a bird or a dog in my life. I've tried to live as much as I could by the morals, teachings and tenets of My Catholic Faith.

Our family is rich not in material resources but in the love we have for each other. We are a big family and we have cousins who grew up like brother and sister to us. We have aunts and uncles whom we consider also as second parents to us.

I have erred in my life countless times. I have had failed relationships and successful ones. I have loved and lost, and never gave up finding love.

I have always had hope in my heart and it is a hope that has been there since I was a child - borne out of the belief that life has been created by The Creator and that whatever failures, shortfalls and bad luck that may happen in one's lifetime, there is always Someone who will come to my succor and aid.

I never intended or intend to use anyone, not anybody or especially the people I love.

I have my own resources - my own talent, my own skills, my own dream - I proudly rely on myself to find my own place under the sun. I can stand on my own two feet with the Grace of God.

If ever there is a fault in my being, it is that I believe. I believe in a decent and true love. I also believe that there is always happiness looming in the horizon no matter how many times a man or a woman may fall. Some people just give up.

I am not a crash person or an opportunist, nor a dumb nor an indecent being. I can proudly stand and talk and reason and debate and present my self and views and ideals and concerns and feelings.

I have been educated in the best schools, including the University of the Philippines and De La Salle, and I have a Bachelor's Degree and a Master's Degree in Business Administration. I have had varied work experience locally and internationally.

I cannot allow anyone to accuse me falsely. But I am humble enough to accept my faults and weaknesses.

I am true and decent.

Where're My Favorite Things?

I love the Twisted.
I miss my dog Shadow and I miss my quiet moments working early mornings at my computer in my house.

I miss my budgie Tommy.

I miss driving my car, and feeling free that at anytime I can get out of the house, come back, drive out of town without any cares in the world.

I miss my "wakeful dreams" in which I gather my thoughts - of past and the future.

I miss preparing my favorite breakfast of pancakes and brewing my own coffee.

I miss writing corny, lavatorial poems only I can appreciate.

I miss Toronto and its boring nights.

I miss the new moon and how it excites my nights and how it lights my dreams.

I miss the time you were thinking of me.

I miss the moments when I think of the way I think of you.

I miss you so much and how we can be together.

You are my favorite thing.

I wish I can tell you that over and over, because life is short and life is worth living.

I miss Old Manila and I miss its promise of a lifetime.

Tell Me How.

Is it really hard to be just ordinary? I watched this film
" Orient Express" at the Cinema Europa showing at Shangri La, a film from Romania, and the main character, a Prince named Andrei, is being accused by his friends of living, well...like royalty - being aristocratic, aloof, cold, a manipulator.

But how come some ordinary mortals act as if they are not mere mortals, like us? They pamper themselves with illusions of being hunted down by the entire populace, of being chased everywhere they went, of not being able to love the way ordinary citizens do?

It is hard to deal with extraordinary human beings, if you are a commoner. You are not like them. You are down there, and they are way up up there. They look down on you with scorn and disgust.They talk a different language, they have to be loved differently, they act a certain way.

The Prince in the Orient Express, though adored by many women at different times in his life, and even at his advanced years, was not happy in his life. He said it himself - I don't think I have ever been happy.

He was offered love by an ordinary woman, Isabela - the only woman whom the Prince ever loved, yet he denied this feeling to himself and to the woman.

Throughout his life, he wanted to die while living a full life - surrounded by mistresses and money.

He died a very sad man, in the end.

If you are falling in love with an extraordinary, spectacular woman, be ready to encounter a Prince-like character. Be ready to die innumerable deaths in her hands for she will deny herself and you of the tender feelings she has.

If you plan to fall in love with a spectacular human being, ask the other character in the Orient Express, Bob the nephew of the Baroness, who was the fiancee of Ana. Ana, a twenty year old girl succumbed to the charm of the Prince and killed herself when the Prince rejected her.

Bob was the rich heir who acted ordinary - who abhorred artificiality and the ways of the aristocrats, and who was brave enough to tell the Prince of his faults or vanities.

Ana asked the Prince many times - have you ever loved a woman and have you ever been happy? Then we mortals, should ask Bob, tell us then how to act in front of the aristocrats or the aristocrat-likes. How to fall in love with the spectaculars, the geniuses in arts, in poetry, in literature?

Maybe like Ana and the first love of the Prince, Isabela, we ordinary people, shall suffer the same fate. Doom.

What distance can do.

In Toronto, the sky was clearer and the moon, although missing for most nights, can be glimpsed once in a while in the horizon.

In Manila, where the sky should be clearer, it became darker. Perhaps it was because of the intermittent rains since I arrived here, or maybe due to the carbon monoxide exhaust of the cars, buses, jeepneys and tricycles.

But I have not really seen the moon ever since I got here. The absence of it is so saddening, the lack of communion with this celestial body weakens the spirit of someone seeking solace and oneness with the Age of Aquarius.

How could Manila be so cold when it was meant to be warm? Is it the rain, or the advent of gadgets that make the Pinoys more coolly western than exotically eastern? Is it fear of the unknown of its future ?

In Toronto, the signals were more distinct; in Manila, they became weaker.

Seven thousand plus miles is the distance from Toronto to Manila. Eleven days is the total number of days already spent in the capital. The gap was closed; the chasm still exists.

" When the Moon is on the seventh house and Jupiter aligns with Mars." I would like to listen to the new Manila sound, if ever there is one, to dispel the dryness of the weather here. Music always creates an artificial scenario wherein one can immerse its soul.

I talk to myself. Let's go. Let's be. Let's listen to that music and unite with it.

" Fill my heart with song and let me sing forever more...In other words.."

Love in Peril - Part I

They agreed to meet in Madrid the following year. And before they went out of Via Mare, he gave her his cell phone number. She refused to give hers, and just like in the movie Serendipity, she said " if we are meant to be, there will be a way that we shall meet again."

The next day, Tom flew out of Manila into Madrid where he took the post of Assistant Consular Office in the Philippine Consulate in Spain.

That was a year ago to this day. That night at Via Mare in the Shangri La Mall Complex was a chance encounter. He was there to meet with his daughter on the eve of his departure.

Her daughter lives with his ex wife, and the trip from Pampanga to Manila took its toll on her frail health. He sent her home early, and he passed the time drinking beer and eating grilled calamari.

Then Jenny walked in and sat at the table beside him. The attraction was instant and electrifying.

He invited himself into Jenny's table, introducing himself as a Consular Officer, an introduction which he never used before. But the moment had to be seized right away as he was to leave noon of the following day.

Jenny warmed to him like a lost kitten. She soon told him about her work with the media and how she loves the music of Mozart, the work of Salinger, the art of Dali.

The glass of white wine in her hand soon changed five times, and his beer bottles piled up on the table. They wanted not to part for the evening, and if there was only another morning left, they'd surely have made love as passionately as lovers thirst on their very first encounter.

Today they were supposed to meet in a cinema in Madrid near the Gran Via. It was Jenny who wrote on a piece of napkin: One year from today we shall meet in Madrid and watch the movie showing at La Casa.

2:10 pm - He was among the last in a long queue of cinema goers. He was checking the women in front of him
and as he glanced back, a girl in a dark blue jacket walked up and joined the line. Is that her? The last time he saw Jenny, she had a green La Coste T-shirt and a shawl with pink design, black denim pants, and
grayish black sneakers. Her earrings were small hoops and she wore a watch and carried a big bag.

2:15 pm - The cinema was full and he found a second raw seat. He glanced to his left and right, checked his back and front. Every time someone walked out, he checked her out.

4:15 pm - The movie ended. He stood up before the credits showed up on screen. He stood by the railing wherein he could see the people leaving the cinema. It was near the escalator so he wouldn't miss anyone.
His eyes darted left to right. Then he saw the girl in a dark blue jacket and beige pants and flip flop step-in going down the escalator. Her dark hair seemed familiar. She looked down as she walked.

"I think it's her." He was not really sure but his heart told him so. He almost ran to the escalator and his eyes never left her as she went down another flight of escalator. He walked past other shoppers.

She took another escalator and soon reached the last floor. He followed her. The bottom floor was the Food Court, and at that hour, the tables were full of people. There were many Filipinos and other Orientals eating at that time.

But he couldn't find Jenny. She was not there. He saw the washroom sign. "Did she go in there?" So he waited awhile at the passage way. No sign of Jenny.

He stood at the elevated portion of the Food Court from which he could see the food stalls and the eating tables. Jenny was not there. He must have looked a sight because people started to look at him.

Tom started to walk down and along the food stalls pretending to choose but merely checking the women around.

He went up again and saw a Bookstore with English titles. Maybe she went here, she being a a bibliophile.
Inside the store, he walked past aisles of books and as he darted his eyes from aisle to aisle, browser to browser, he saw a clerk suspiciously eyeing him. It must be his "lover eyes" showing up.

His "lover eyes" according to his once long term lover, are mean and fierce, and they show up at the height of a sexual encounter. So his eyes must have become fierce, from stress and frustration and longing.

Then he went down again and past the other restaurants located at the opposite side of the Food Court. Then he walked to the end of the floor. " Oh wait, there's a Spanish Starbuck's here. Surely she must have gone there."

But wait I don't have cash right now. So he had to fall in line in an ATM machine and upon discovering it had no cash, he ended up changing US dollars into Euro.

So it was almost five pm when he reached Starbucks. The tables were occupied except for one. He ordered a small Latte and sipped it slowly, hoping Jenny would come in.

No one showed up. The girl whom he thought of as Jenny looked a bit tired and sleepy. If it was not her, then he missed her if she were still upstairs at the cinema. But his heart knew it was Jenny in that dark blue jacket and flip flop leather slippers and a big bag.

"But why didn't she just call me?"

Ten days have passed since Jenny arrived in Madrid. She wanted the first meeting to be accidental. A chance encounter. No strings attached. She must have thought he changed in the twelve months he'd been in Madrid.
Or she didn't want any sort of pre-arranged meeting; she wanted it random.

"What a waste, " he thought. Ten days lost when we could have been holding hands now, feeling each other's warmth, seeking endless kisses.

The other night, he dreamt of Jenny and him dancing. And him kissing Jenny at the sunken part of her throat.

"Oh, Jenny, I miss you. We should not be wasting any more day and night. We cannot rely on randomness anymore. Our first moment was a chance already. We've got to make time now. Time is running out."

Then he pressed his cellphone and checked his Contacts and his own number. "Call Jenny, call," he whispered.

As Tom stepped out of the Mall housing the cinema and into the street, he immediately felt the humid Madrid summer. Yes, summer was on its last vestiges and fall is just a few weeks away, but this evening was warm.As warm as his feelings for this woman he never met tonight.

There would be tomorrow and the next nights to think about.

Beyond the Orient Express.

By anonymous.
Beyond St. Petersburg,

I saw the smile - the hearty laughter you make,

The twinkle of your exciting eyes,

The joyous movement of your slim frame,

The pert, the thrill, the girl.

My demons circled and dove,

Turned upside down,

Grounded,

Landed,

Flew back,

Lost their wings and fangs and all.

Beyond the Orient Express

In ' morrow,

I must seek to behold your beauty once more,

To peek at the earthy tone of the skin,

The auburn hair,

The generous lips,

The wondrous smile your eyes and mouth beget.

My angels then must return and guide my path,

Aid me well,

Bring me wealth of opportune times

That lead to heaven-like happiness.

Cant' Take My Eyes Off Of You.

by Frankie Valli
One of the songs performed at the Musical - Jersey Boys

You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.
You'd be like heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived.
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.

Pardon the way that I stare.
There's nothing else to compare.
The sight of you leaves me weak.
There are no words left to speak.
But if you feel like I feel.
Please let me know that it's real.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.

I need you baby, and if it's quite all right,
I need you baby to warm a lonely night.
I love you baby.
Trust in me when I say
Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down
I pray.
Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay.
And let me love you, oh baby let me love you, oh baby....

You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.
You'd be like heaven to touch.
I wanna hold you so much.
At long last love has arrived.
And I thank God I'm alive.
You're just too good to be true.
Can't take my eyes off of you.

I need you baby, and if it's quite all right,
I need you baby to warm a lonely night.
I love you baby.
Trust in me when I say
Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down
I pray.
Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay.
And let me love you, oh baby let me love you, oh baby....

I need you baby, and if it's quite all right,
I need you baby to warm a lonely night.
I love you baby.
Trust in me when I say
Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down
I pray.
Oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay.
And let me love you, oh baby let me love you, oh baby....

Seventeen again.

On the plane going to Manila, they were showing Seventeen Again on board. Mathew Perry's character woke up being seventeen again after a fall from the bridge and into the water, when he tried to save the school custodian/janitor. He ended up in the basketball team just like some twenty years ago.

But now, as a wizened seventeen year old, he's tough with the school bullies and jocks, and never speechless with the lady of his desire - unlike a real seventeen year old of the 80's or even of today.

Think back to when you were seventeen. Were you a jerk? Speechless around the big crush? Not sure if she'd respond? She looks great but you don't know how to break the ice? Too many friends jockeying around the girl?

Or during a high school reunion, upon seeing your old flame which never ignited, do you freeze because you're not sure if this exciting lady in front of you is really her?

Yeah. Admit it, you were a total jerk. Now, suffer.

Damn.

North Edsa to Greenbelt in Ayala and back. Four hours in travel time. If I were driving in Toronto, in that same length of time I would have driven about 400 miles, or from Canada, I'd be in another country already, in the area of Pennsylvania, U.S.A.

Whew. Traffic in Manila is still unresolved. The driver I had was tailgating, changing lanes abruptly, and blowing the horn incessantly. At one point, I had to admonish him because a car in front of us was signalling to change lane in a very slow moving traffic, and he wouldn't let the car. At another area, he kept on honking and I had to tell him off because the truck in front of us had been stopped by traffic cops, so obviously the driver couldn't move.

But as I looked around, I noticed that the other vehicles were doing the same. No courtesy driving, lots of horns beeping, and changing lanes like changing chairs in the parlor game Trip to Jerusalem.

Hey, this is Manila, I reminded myself. This is one of the things that make us unique.

Well, I was still able to make it to a mid morning appointment to meet an old associate, and then took a late snack at Greenbelt 3 in a place called Cafe Bola where I saw a framed cover of a Liwayway Magazine. I left the Cafe before it closed for its 3 - 6 pm "siesta." Nothing extraordinary happened there.

I told my sister and brother in law later that I don't believe the Philippines is experiencing any economic downturn because all the Greenbelts (1,2,3,4,and 5) were packed with people enjoying their lunches or snacks in the dizzying array of restaurants there. But looking closer, there were few shoppers.

I got to walk through 5, 1 and 3 because we parked at Greenbelt 5. Of course, I had to ask several guards for direction inside the mall.

Driving through Ayala, Buendia and Paseo, I saw my old office and didn't recognize it. The elegant Mandarin now looks old and stained and washed out.

It was four years ago that I was here last, and over that period the number of cars and other vehicles quadrupled also.

Damn. I'm getting frustrated. No spectacular sighting or anything.

Ole'

When we went to Spain last year, our group didn't get the chance to see any bullfights. Instead, we went to the Shrine of St. Therese in Avila, and to Toledo, Santiago de Compostela, Salamanca, Zaragoza and Madrid.

But you don't have to watch a bullfight in Espana to be in a mood to shout Ole'. The shout can come out from the throat when you are spontaneously enthralled, extraordinarily excited, or if you are acting out to increase the bravado and drown out the tension.

I call this an ole' moment - for males it is that split second wherein you are ultimately happy - because you have performed well in a task, discovered something great or beautiful, the girlfriend said yes to your proposal, or when you've finally found a way to reach your destination.

The matador - that gallant, impeccably dressed, classically brave torero heaves and puffs his chest at every victory and shouts OLE'.

Ole' is an old world's expression of approval and excitement! It's been heard in bullfights and in movies about bullfighting.

About movies. The Demons of St. Petersburg is showing on Sept. 12th, Saturday, at the Shangri La, at 4:30 pm. Gotta see this one.

Moonstruck.

Manila has been soaking wet since I arrived last Friday. As of this hour, there are a number of provinces already deep in water - flooded. Oh yes! It's a welcome respite from the hot summer days in Toronto. But there's no moon and no stars in the sky - so it's drab.

When I walked into a mall last Monday afternoon, I saw people wearing sweaters and jackets! Oh yes, despite the rain, people went out and enjoyed the movies, food and coffee. Myself intended to see a movie, the comedy Kimi Dora, but the cinema was full - only the very front row seats were vacant, so we opted out.

Instead, I walked into a National Bookstore and bought five books titled Planet of the Twisted and four of its sibling books but oh no, they're not autographed. Of course.

It's not that I don't have books to read because before my departure from Toronto, I went to Cole's and grabbed three books to be read on the plane - Divine Comedy Part I, Pride and Prejudice and the Ultimate Dandy.

Oh yes, this particular visit is significant because two siblings also travelled all the way from the U.S. to be with our mother. So now, our family is complete and dear Nanay is extremely joyous and warmed.

When the rain stops, I hope the moon will shine on my face here in lovely Manila..in Canada, I've always searched for the full, half, quarter and even the stars. But rarely did I see any.

Now, I don't know which part of the sky to gaze at or when it shall appear. Oh, no!

Fly me to the moon. Let me play among the stars...

Goodnight, my Tommy.

Before I left for Manila, I said my goodbye to the two household budgies, Tommy Boy and J-Lo, because I'd be away for quite sometime.

I particulary paid lavish attention to Tommy because he's the one who's playful and responsive. And because a few days before, I noticed that he was getting slower and was sleeping a lot, which he didn't do before. Also, he had an inflamed tail end.

I got to Manila on Friday evening, and on Saturday, I found out that Tommy Boy had passed away on Friday (Canada time). What? I blurted out.

It's as though Tommy wanted my departure from Toronto to be a pleasant one so he waited until I left before he let go himself.

Yes, Tommy was found on the cage floor on Thursday afternoon, still alive but very weak, and by Friday afternoon, he had died.

Tommy Boy had been my favorite one, after the very first canary, Lucky, passed away.

Tommy Boy, my dancing, showbiz-type budgie will be missed greatly.

Bye, Tom Tom. Wherever you are, I know you'd be happy.

I must bid you adieu now and attend to human concerns, both tragic and happy.

Sa wakas. Maynila na.

Mainit. Manila is always on the hot side, although when I arrived here, there was a slight drizzle. Northwest Airlines, now part of Delta was on time, and no complaints from this passenger.

September must be a lucky season for I had three seats all to my self, and I was able to lie down and slept all the way. The plane had about 80% Filipino passengers.

NAIA, like in the previous trips, was packed with more "airport alalays" than actual passengers. I was lucky again not to slide in the "slide-like" ramp they have, going to the pick up area.

My first thought: to eat "mainit na lugaw." Which we did at the Lugawan Republic in Timog.

Sa wakas, Maynila na. Got to connect with relatives and certain people. On the go!

Ordinary folks and extraordinary love. My own philosophy.

When we were small and went visiting our grandparents in Nueva Ecija during summer or the holidays, we'd think of ways to pass the hot days and boring nights.

In the morning after a heavy breakfast, we'd mingle with the old folks in the living room, watching my Lola (grandmother) and relatives and friends carefully packed several "kaings" (woven baskets) with "ikmo" (native leaves).

Planting and selling "ikmo" was one of my Lola's sources of income. These kaings would be loaded into a bus and dropped off in the busy Baliuag market in Bulacan.

While they packed the woven baskets, the old women chewed betel nuts.

For this purpose, my Lola kept handy a wooden cigar box filled with the paraphernalia required for preparing a "joint" . Inside the box was a small, scythe-like instrument for cracking the betel nut, then there was a white powder (lime), several ikmo leaves, brown cigars, and a matchbox.

First they cracked the betel nut, cut it into small pieces. Then they put a piece into an "ikmo" leaf, put white powder (lime), folded the leaf into a small square and chewed it slowly. This is called "mastication." Soon, you saw the mouths of the women turning red, and you could even glimpse red saliva spurting out from the corners of their mouths.

We, kids, stared open-mouthed at this sight.

Some folks used to cure open or nasty wounds with this instant "red medicine." If a boy or a girl went climbing a guava or "siniguelas" tree, fell and cut himself/herself - then an old lady would chew an" ikmo" and spit the red concoction directly into the wound. I don't remember anymore whether they washed or bandaged the wound afterwards, but somehow the wound got healed quickly. I think the "betel nut, the lime powder and the ikmo" leaf turned into some kind of antibiotic.

I only remember one occasion when my mother tried and was forced into chewing an "ikmo," and that was to spit it into a wound that my younger brother had. After the "curing session," she felt dizzy like a drunken woman, and my kid brother felt "icky" from the experience.

Other times, we idly watched our Lolo while he caressed his Teksas (fighting cocks) , readying them for a "tupada." Or we got his own cigar box and rolled out fresh cigars for him. He had fresh cigar leaf and white unrolled papers always ready.

Other occasions, we simply took the route behind our house and walked and walked past other people's properties, sometimes climbing and stealing "siniguelas" or green mangoes. We crossed wooden bamboo bridges, sometimes falling into muddy waters where carabaos bathed, picked and ate "unknown" wild fruits, waded into receded rivers where native folks washed clothes, and reached the other end of the town, and then walked dripping wet back into our house, and got scolded.

If we went home for the town fiesta, we'd watch some "palabas" (road show) in the plaza or once, when grown up, attended an actual dance.

Life in the province was easy then; honest folks planted rice or raised cattle and swine. And loved their kin and relations with the purest of hearts.