Friday, 30 January 2009

For the potentially pretentious

There was this guy I kind of like during college days. He's a complete package of a man, except for one annoying thing (at least to me) --- he thought he's the deepest person in the world. Haha!

So this poem "I'm so deep" reminds me of that man. The poet is Beau Sia. I like his "sarcasm" in this poem to pretentious people.

Check this out!

(credits to knownots@youtube for the video)

(Transcription of the poem)

I’m So Deep

I'm so deep
my anus leaks the words of the prophet
in a form of a fart

I'm so deep
the public swimming pool of my thoughts
is all deep end

I'm so deep
pointing to my brain magnifies
the value of what I say 327 fold

I'm so deep
Every word I speak is a metaphor
including "is","are",and "every"

I'm so deep
the words "I'm so deep" aren't the hook
they're mantra

I'm so deep
I'm the iceberg
that let another iceberg
sink the titanic

Question: what does that last metaphor mean?
Answer: I'm too deep to give you the clues.

When I say I'm deep like
a pre-war communist,

I’m deep like an exotic cheese spoken of loudly,
or I’m deep like the sound of one but cheek laughing,
you just have to shut-up and know what I’m talking about
Or remember the mantra words and whisper
"Yo, that motherfucker’s hella deep yawl!"

Because I am deeper than sense.
My silence is deep
I have deep underwear
and my balls get confused in them

I’m so deep
I transcend the word transcend

I’m so deep
I made knowing none of the answers
always the answer.

I'm sooo deep
I can find the corndog
in the platinum wrap(ped) single
of your mind

Damn, that’s deep

I’m like the deepest…
I’m like the 'Serpentaur' (carpenter) of deep
I embody the combined DNA of all the great "deeps" before me
I'm so deep my cock is shaped like Merlin
I'm so deep "3" is "4"

I'm so deep, the wind..............
the end of the poem is really
the beginning

Not “Only in the Philippines”

A friend emailed some facts that happen ‘kuno’ only in the Philippines...

Now, really… I’m fed up with this “Only in the Philippines” rubbish…

I’m fed up with stuff like “where else do you find people selling quail's eggs, hardboiled eggs, balut, chicharon, green mango with bagoong, salted peanuts and cigarettes and roses...people haggling and selling these on the street... people actually trying to clean your car, people selling cigarettes by the stick, and they even light it for you. Only in the Philippines!”... WHAT??? I don’t have to cite examples but I’m sure it’s not only in the Philippines. And for one, this balut is not only in the Philippines. Making it is not even native to Pinas.

Just like what happened in that 999 incident (in “Sir, are you okay?” blog), it’s also like in the Philippines, people gather around the scene, others are sympathetic; others are just plain curious. So that TV show showing this trait of Pinoys as “Only in the Philippines” is a cant haha!

An Indian housemate showed me a video of the traffic in India which she said as ‘Only in India’, which reminded me of my Mexican friend describing the traffic in Mexico City as ‘Only in Mexico’ --- the same as what we label as ‘Only in the Philippines’ --- the same stint of road fury, impoliteness, disorder and very very very long commutes in the busiest streets in our country.

There also another email with ‘Only in the Philippines’ theme --- ‘What’s in a name?’ written kuno by a certain journalist from UK, describing how Pinoys are very creative about names like Jhunjhun, Ling-ling, Thata, Langgah and with imaginative parents naming their children with rhyme, as in Biboy, Boboy, Buboy, Baboy...

Now, here’s something ridiculous here in UK... In the BBC news the other day, “a travel company in UK is refusing to take bookings from people with names like Britney, Kylie and Dwayne” (because likely, persons with these names are “chavs”)...Huh??? Is there something like this in the Philippines? Hmmm. Lemme think… Aha! I remembered that story my mother told me about her friend’s friend’s friend’s mother who advised her daughter’s friend to break up with her boyfriend because his name is Damian and that the it means “demon”! Whhh? My grandfather’s name is Damian and he’s one of the coolest guys I have ever known. And please, this very type of gossiping, meddling with other people’s business and overgeneralization, it’s not ‘Only in the Philippines’. Now, what’s in a name? Ehehe, hang on, I think I'm drifting now…(“,) Enough of this Only in…

Ooops, wait, also in the BBC news the other day, a 70 year woman was denied of buying a bottle of wine because she failed to give an ID. The store spokesperson said: "We take the sale of alcohol to underage people extremely seriously”. Only in UK? Of course not. This lack of common sense, many Pinoys are plagued with this malady too. But for sure, this happens not only in UK nor “Only in the Philippines”…

(“,) (“,) (“,)

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Last Wednesday evening was the second “weekly movie night” that I and my French housemate started doing the other week so we can have a break from our school work.

While walking to the town centre, I noticed an old man, about five meters away from us, wobbling. When he passed us by, I heard him groaning. Although we continued walking, I was looking at him to check, actually curious if he’s normal or not, then he fell down. So we ran back and asked him a very stupid question, “Sir? Sir, are you okay?”... (Are we nuts? Of course, he isn’t!)

I think I panicked because it didn’t really occur to me that I should call 999, waaaaaaah! Having grown and lived in a coconut farm in a remote Philippine village, my mind was not trained to call emergency lines but instead shout at the top of my lungs “Taaaaaabbbbbbaaaaang!” (Help!), hoping that neighbours who live hundreds of meters away would hear. Ahaha!

When I picked his bags of groceries scattered on the path and before I could cry “Help!”, I heard a man shouting from the other side of the road “Call 999”... At first, what registered in my mind was that he was telling us to get away from the old I and my French housemate backed off, then he shouted again, “Call 999”... that’s the time I remembered what I’m supposed to do. I totally forgot the Safety and Emergency Awareness series of the University. Ouch! Pastilan! (Darn!)

So I called 999 while my housemate checked on the man. He was bleeding profusely, from a cut on the left brow! While waiting for the ambulance, we learned that the man is 75 years old...and he kept murmuring 147 street something...I think it took 15 minutes for the ambulance to get to the site. Then a woman passed by and recognized the old man, and that’s the time that I realized what 147 meant. It’s the number of his house on that street. He’s just four houses away from where he collapsed. I think he really tried to make it to his house.

So the ambulance arrived, the police arrived and also the old man’s wife. After telling the wife that he’s carrying some groceries, we left the scene, and headed to the cinema. We arrived on time, watched Seven Pounds, while I smelled vinegar! Hahaha. The bags of groceries, there was a bottle of vinegar...

Ah that movie, the tear jerker Seven Pounds has some scenes reminding us of the incident… the movie started with Will Smith calling 911 and there was a scene when Rosario Dawson fell like the old man. I have a feeling this whole thing is preparing me for something more panicking...Ehehe! But I hope with this experience, my reticular activating system will store this as relevant information, that is, not to panic and to call 999 or 991 right away...

Now, this makes me think that I should tell the Barangay Captain (village head) of my beloved Barangay Cadunan to have an emergency number (or maybe, we have it already, I just do not know). Even in Tagum City (where I work), I don’t know the emergency lines... (Naa ba? Naa na yata). What I know is that in Compostela Valley Province and Davao del Norte, there are stickers posted in tricycles and jeepneys advertising to people to call certain numbers to report ‘Colurum Vans’.

After the movie, my housemate and I just talked about the bloody incidents that happened to us...while eating fries. Yum! Hmmm, that made me recall that I had been to accidents quite a lot already in my entire life…tsk tsk.

For the rest of the night, my housemate was a bit traumatized; she said she could still smell the blood. Not me! Thanks to the vinegar!

Wednesday, 28 January 2009

For the BOW from which I as a LIVING ARROW am sent forth...

Sadness, loneliness, anger, fa
tigue, numbness, guilt, self-reproach, anxiety, yearning... since Mama died, my heart has been a breeding ground of all these...

The range of feelings is indeed very, very wide, my emotions are 'all over the place'. There are times when December 16, 2006 seems like a lifetime away, but most of the time, it seems like it was but yesterday.

I never thought the sense of loss could take much, much longer to sink in. In fact, the process is painstakingly very, very slow. I think I still have not gotten used to the fact that death has occurred, that Mama died (then Lola Tinay followed six months later). It’s just too much...Until now I still wonder if something could have been done by the family or by me in particular to prevent this apparently inexplicable event. I have regrets too of unfulfilled promises, of times I did not spend with Mama...

While coping with homesickness here, I began to think that I have symptoms of depression. I couldn’t sleep well, couldn’t eat regularly, sometimes it seems I have a digestive shut down, at times I wanna eat the whole house. Intense sadness clutches at my back, every time I try to get it off my back, the more it tightens its grip. I began to think too that I don’t have self-esteem anymore. There’s this feeling of worthlessness, feeling of despair as if everything in my system has impaired functioning.

But then again, I have family and friends who supported me and prayed for me...and I have a God, Who despite my being so defiant, loves me and never ceases to show me every moment of my life that He is a living God!

I remembered one very long painful, anxious night here, the next morning I received an email from my friend Jickles, who quoted, “The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." (Zephaniah 3:17).

My friend Lalay Padernal also told me this, “I’m sure it’s those times you had spent with your mom that counts and not those that you haven’t.”

My family are sources of strength and inspiration and my friends always give me encouraging words. To thank them for their support, I don’t want them to worry about me...I have to move on and live life as Mama would have wanted me to.

I will think of good memories that we spent together, of the times she really laughed so hard, of the bonding times we spent in the beaches, in Eden Nature Park, in Camiguin, in Davao City, in Tagum City... everywhere... anytime... anything happy and inspiring that I could remember...

I will remember how her face beamed if I have spotted her while waiting at the food court in a supermarket...

I will think of the hours I spent sitting with her on a long bus ride to and from Davao City, ‘cause she used to come with me during my Saturday Masteral classes at USeP-Obrero and of the days we spent talking about life in Musuan.

I will think of the best and the happiest Christmas the family ever celebrated (that Christmas eve of 1992, we didn’t have any festive food, but that was the happiest, most fun Christmas. I can still imagine my Papa and Mama dancing).

I will think of the days when I got sick...Mama took care of me like a child...I miss being pampered...

I will think of how she just smiled back at her friends and colleagues when they praised her children or praised her on how she raised her children. Even though she just smiled modestly at her friends but I could see the joy and pride in her eyes...

I will think of the days when we watched Beethoven, Jurrasic Park, God must be Crazy, Sound of Music, Amistad, Forrest Gump and all the movies we watched together...I will remember the times when we cried together or get misty-eyed because of the stories I told her or of the stories she told me...

I will think of how she happily played with our dogs, of how proudly she described that her cats had peculiar behaviours and of how she fed the birds in our backyard...

I will think of her tasty adobo!!! I miss her adobo so much!

I will remember how she taught us (me, Baden and Macky) to love each other, to be tolerant of and forgiving to mean personalities and of gossipy neighbours; to be respectful especially to the elderly, to help people especially the deprived...

There are soooo many happy and inspiring things I could think of about Mama...

Even in her death bed, I could remember one peaceful moment: when Mama’s pulmonologist asked us if we’re ready, I smiled and I said ‘Yes Doc, we are ready’. A minute after, the heart rate monitor sounded the long beep that signalled her death. That time, I felt a different kind of consciousness, as if I was unburdened of a load I had been carrying for a long time...In a very short moment, somehow, I have made peace with losing my Mama. Then I sat beside her, and kissed her forehead for a long time, and said “Babye, Ma. I love you so much!” She was surrounded by those who loved her. I know she was ready to go, her death was peaceful.

For a while, this pain would still haunt me. There would be times still that I would close my eyes and see her on a hospital bed.

For a while, I would think of sending her a text message or of trying to call her, only to remember at the last moment that she’s already dead. I still often wish I could call her and tell her a bit of news about my life here in Reading.

For a while, I would think of buying something nice for her, like a beautiful blouse or the DVD and books about Princess Diana every time I go to the shops here only to realize she ‘s not there to receive my gifts...

I will remember her strength as a woman...

I will always feel her love...

I will dream of her smile...

When I’m weary, I will feel how she holds me in her breasts in a very tender, very warm embrace...

...and I will always hear her answer to me...“I love you so much, too, Ga!”


("You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth." - Kahlil Gibran)

Speeches of the FILIPINO CHAMPIONS in the English Speaking Union’s (ESU) International Public Speaking Competition, London, UK

Fish Mucus and Foot Fungus

by Gian Carlo Dapul (2008 Champion of the English Speaking Union’s (ESU) International Public Speaking Competition. He bested 57 participants from 35 countries in the 27th annual speaking competition last May 9, 2008).

(credits to Billie4Mozarella@youtube for the video)

Here's the speech. (credits to

When I was in 6th grade, I hated Mathematics. You would have, too, if you had my teacher. He would drop huge workbooks on our tables and croak, "Thirty problems, fifty minutes." A lot of these problems seemed unsolvable, so we complained: "Sir, there are no answers to these!" But then he’d reply, "To every question there is an answer, to every problem there is a solution."

Although I’m only sixteen years old and an incoming 4th year high school student, I know that my country has more problems than any Mathematics book. Strangely enough, the answers to some of our problems are fish mucus and foot fungus. These seemingly improbable items are products of what we call scientific research.

Research turns our guesses into real knowledge, serving as the sifting pan of our hypotheses. It challenges what we assume, because, as they say, if you only learn from what you ASS-UME, you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me".

In the early 1800s, someone warned that the streets of London would be filled with horse manure due to the uncontrolled use of horse-drawn carriages. Of course, that never happened. Combustion engines, products of research and invention, replaced horses, and the manure piled up in Parliament instead.Coffee and droppings

While on the subject, few people know that the most expensive coffee in the world is taken from the droppings of the Asian Palm Civet found in the Philippines and Indonesia. The small mammal excretes the coffee berries it eats, and forest trackers recycle the fruity feces to create what is known as Kopi Luwak in Indonesia or Kape Alamid in our country. Research has led to a synthetic process that simulates the droppings' exotic flavor and quality.

So, who’s had coffee with their breakfast? Well, soon nobody will have had coffee and breakfast if the looming global food crisis worsens. Are you all feeling fine? Well, nobody might be fine for long if some new disease creeps up on us.

Health can be enhanced and life can be extended. The nudibranch, a beautiful, soft-bodied creature unfairly called a "sea slug" — a favorite among underwater photographers for its marvelous colors and shapes — has actually been used in tumor research. Samples of fish mucus have also displayed certain antibacterial properties.

And as the Home Shopping Network would say, "Wait! There’s more."Science fair like Idol?

Certain types of infectious fungi that coat some of your toes here form beneficial relationships that support plant growth. The International Rice Research Institute based in the Philippines continues to develop ways to improve rice growth and help alleviate the current food crisis.

New challenges are coming, and they will always confront us. What we need is an army of scientific researchers that will help find the solutions in advance. I want to be part of that army that would cross the new frontiers first.

If only we could make science fairs and contests as popular as the thriving "Idol" franchise. Although I’m not sure if Simon Cowell’s sardonic comments will sit well with my peers. But we need the same hard-hitting passion in research and invention.

To conduct research is to be innovative; avant-garde. Researchers are like artists with test tubes and lab gowns instead of paintbrushes and smocks. When I graduate from the Philippine Science High School next year, I want to begin my "masterpiece" and apply for a university degree in Biochemistry. New frontier

But sometimes, I am discouraged by those who say that a researcher from a Third-World nation is like a Jesuit adhering to a vow of poverty, or worse, like a Benedictine monk observing the vow of chastity. It is indeed a challenge, but it’s also another frontier to cross, for me and many young people like me.

We Filipinos are well known for their dedication to service, in foreign homes, hospitals and hotels. In our hotel, I found three Filipinos working at the front desk. I want to be one of the pioneers that will make the Philippines known for its excellence in scientific research, as part of the driving force that will expand our horizons towards tomorrow. And I intend to have a lot of fun while doing it.

Going back to my math teacher, I eventually realized that, well, he was right. As he said, "To every question there is an answer, to every problem there is a solution." We just have to go looking for the right ones. Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll be answering the questions that haven’t been asked yet.


Blonde and Blue-eyes

by Patricia Evangelista - 2004 Champion and the first Filipino to have won the English Speaking Union’s (ESU) International Public Speaking Competition.

(credits to bonidos@youtube for the video)

Here's her speech.

credits to

When I was little, I wanted what many Filipino children all over the country wanted. I wanted to be blond, blue-eyed, and white. I thought - if I just wished hard enough and was good enough, I'd wake up on Christmas morning with snow outside my window and freckles across my nose!

More than four centuries under western domination does that to you. I have 16 cousins. In a couple of years, there will just be five of us left in the Philippines, the rest will have gone abroad in search of "greener pastures." It's not just an anomaly; it's a trend; the Filipino diaspora. Today, about eight million Filipinos are scattered around the world.

There are those who disapprove of Filipinos who choose to leave. I used to. Maybe this is a natural reaction of someone who was left behind, smiling for family pictures that get emptier with each succeeding year. Desertion, I called it. My country is a land that has perpetually fought for the freedom to be itself. Our heroes offered their lives in the struggle against the Spanish, the Japanese, the Americans. To pack up and deny that identity is tantamount to spitting on that sacrifice.

Or is it? I don't think so, not anymore. True, there is no denying this phenomenon, aided by the fact that what was once the other side of the world is now a twelve-hour plane ride away. But this is a borderless world, where no individual can claim to be purely from where he is now. My mother is of Chinese descent, my father is a quarter Spanish, and I call myself a pure Filipino hybrid of sorts resulting from a combination of cultures.

Each square mile anywhere in the world is made up of people of different ethnicities, with national identities and individual personalities. Because of this, each square mile is already a microcosm of the world. In as much as this blessed spot that is England is the world, so is my neighbourhood back home.

Seen this way, the Filipino Diaspora, or any sort of dispersal of populations, is not as ominous as so many claim. It must be understood. I come from a Third World country, one that is still trying mightily to get back on its feet after many years of dictatorship. But we shall make it, given more time. Especially now, when we have thousands of eager young minds who graduate from college every year. They have skills. They need jobs. We cannot absorb them all.

A borderless world presents a bigger opportunity, yet one that is not so much abandonment but an extension of identity. Even as we take, we give back. We are the 40,000 skilled nurses who support the UK's National Health Service. We are the quarter-of-a-million seafarers manning most of the world's commercial ships. We are your software engineers in Ireland, your construction workers in the Middle East, your doctors and caregivers in North America, and, your musical artists in London's West End.

Nationalism isn't bound by time or place. People from other nations migrate to create new nations, yet still remain essentially who they are. British society is itself an example of a multi-cultural nation, a melting pot of races, religions, arts and cultures. We are, indeed, in a borderless world!

Leaving sometimes isn't a matter of choice. It's coming back that is. The Hobbits of the shire travelled all over Middle-Earth, but they chose to come home, richer in every sense of the word. We call people like these balikbayans or the "returnees"-those who followed their dream, yet choose to return and share their mature talents and good fortune.

In a few years, I may take advantage of whatever opportunities come my way. But I will come home. A borderless world doesn't preclude the idea of a home. I'm a Filipino, and I'll always be one. It isn't about just geography; it isn't about boundaries. It's about giving back to the country that shaped me. And that's going to be more important to me than seeing snow outside my windows on a bright Christmas morning.

Why first-born children have higher IQs? (a repost)

Last week, I have read an article about why first-born children have higher IQs. (Follow the link below to read the full article).

Hmmm. I would say, this is not true in my family. I have two sisters, I am the first-born, Dennice is the middle-born and Macky is the last-born.

On intelligence, the article says that “first-borns had a three-point IQ advantage over the second-born, who was a point ahead of the next in line.... the extra time and patience that the earlier borns get from their parents, compared with those arriving later, gives them an advantage".

Hmmm, while I do agree that I was really given more attention by my parents (my mother told us too that I had more vitamins, up-to-date vaccine, etc. than my younger sisters), but Dennice is intellectually superior among us three.

On personality, the article says “parents' most favoured child tends to be the last-born.”

Hmmm...lemme think, yeah, I guess so...

“First-borns are . . .achievers, who are dominant, religious, conscientious and neurotic. They earn more, are more responsible, anxious and organised, and they stick to the rules.”

Hmmm...About 80% of this description is about Dennice. The words that would fit me are the “neurotic” -- ehehe -- and “anxious”. Yes, I am a terrible worrier.

"Middle-borns are . . .rebellious, less religious, impulsive and open to new experiences. They perform worse at school and often procrastinate but act as peacemakers."

Aha! I think I am a middle-born!!! (Hihi) Well, I am not really rebellious, Dennice is more of a rebel than I am and Macky but she is the most religious. She performed best in school and she does not procrastinate. She is really good in time management.

I and Macky are of the same level in procrastination. Wehehe...

Well, Macky is the peacemaker among us three...101%

"Last-borns are . . .agreeable, warm, sociable, extrovert and creative. They are the most favoured child, often a joker and questioning of authority".

WOW! Almost like a bull’s eye! About 87% of this description fits Macky! The last one – “questioning of authority” - is not her...That’s Dennice.

Next, on sexual partners, “later-borns want to enjoy more sexual partners than first-borns.... the youngest in the family desired more sexual partners...”


Somehow this is true in my family. Macky, the youngest, got married first, then Dennice followed... then I won’t follow them at all! BWAHAHA!

Of course, I can never tell what’s in store for me, but there is a great likelihood that if ever I get married, it would be on May 28, the color/motif would be blue, and I would be getting almost the same pairs of godparents.

Why May 28 --- so that, we would be celebrating our wedding anniversaries on the same date.

However, I still would like to stick to my "dream wedding". My whole entourage would not be marching! Instead, there will be synchronized swimming from a mainland to an island...


Cge, hanggang sa muli...

A Dolphin Story, a Display of Altruism (a repost)

I always enjoyed watching heart warming “animal stories” in movies like Flipper, Free Willy (I love Keiko!), and Nemo. I love hanging out in the beach and snorkeling with my family and friends...(still have to try scuba diving, though). I have a collection of dolphin figurines. And my best friend Lanya always calls me “Dolphin”...

While reading the news today, I have read about an amazing and heart-warming story about Moko... this is an evidence of dolphin's altruistic nature!

Just wanna share with you so read on...


NZ dolphin rescues beached whales

A dolphin has come to the rescue of two whales which had become stranded on a beach in New Zealand.

Conservation officer Malcolm Smith told the BBC that he and a group of other people had tried in vain for an hour and a half to get the whales to sea.

The pygmy sperm whales had repeatedly beached, and both they and the humans were tired and set to give up, he said.

But then the dolphin appeared, communicated with the whales, and led them to safety.

The bottlenose dolphin, called Moko by local residents, is well known for playing with swimmers off Mahia beach on the east coast of the North Island. Mr Smith said that just when his team was flagging, the dolphin showed up and made straight for them.

"I don't speak whale and I don't speak dolphin," Mr Smith told the BBC, "but there was obviously something that went on because the two whales changed their attitude from being quite distressed to following the dolphin quite willingly and directly along the beach and straight out to sea."

He added: "The dolphin did what we had failed to do. It was all over in a matter of minutes."

Back at play

Mr Smith said he felt fortunate to have witnessed the extraordinary event, and was delighted for the whales, as in the past he has had to put down animals which have become beached.

He said that the whales have not been seen since, but that the dolphin had returned to its usual practice of playing with swimmers in the bay.

"I shouldn't do this I know, we are meant to remain scientific," Mr Smith said, "but I actually went into the water with the dolphin and gave it a pat afterwards because she really did save the day."

More at

Not as Cold as Mt. Apo (a repost)

It is not really cold here, not as cold as Mt. Apo...

Nah! I’m actually lying...this is just what I tell to myself, every time I have to be outside to go through a 30-minute walk from my hall to the University...

It is really cold
here, it freezes my brain...

But every time it gets really really cold, I would think of that day when I, with five of my friends climbed Mt. Apo three Decembers ago...that was ‘a tale of daring stubbornness, willpower, determination, and bad judgement’. This line is exaggerated, but anyway let it be...hehehe...

What happened that day?

I will just make this story short. The experiences were really fantastic except that evening of the second day. We spent our first night at Goddy-goddy, where we originally planned to start as early as 9am the next day for the ‘jump off’. But we delayed so much, not really wanting to hurry...we just stayed there until 12:00 noon, watching new arrivals pitching their ‘state-of-the art’ (hihihi) tents...As we trekked, it was really fun scaling the big boulders, we didn’t hurry (unlike the regular pace we usually have in the previous treks). At 3:00pm, we stopped to rest and delayed there for an hour, just chatting, drinking and taking pictures...We thought we would be at the peak to camp for the night before it gets really dark.

At around 4:00pm, we decided to start trekking again going up to the part with steaming sulphur of the volcano, then ill fortune began. As my friend Wench was packing his stuff, his camping stove fell into a deep boulder crack, so we were delayed more for thirty minutes to get it...By the time we got the stove, it was getting dark and worst, it rained, then more hard luck came. As we clambered through the boulders, only three head lamps were functional...(yeah yeah, I can hear your reaction!) This slowed us more because the one with the lamp has to light the path of his/her buddy.

By 7:00 in the evening, we reached one of the seven peaks (now, I don’t specifically know which one)...we have to get down to the camp site, but we couldn’t figure out which way to Wench (aka Mata), the headman of the group, with Wendelle (aka Liog), had to find the trail, while I, Damang, Mimi and X have to stay in one place to wait for the two... it was sooooo damn cold, I was drenched in the rain because I gave my rain gear to this asthmatic X, who forgot to bring hers. Ghastly chilling wind circled us, threatening us fur
ther with its eerie whoosh. Its force was so strong, we could hardly stand. It was so painful, it's like the wind was blowing needles on my face. I recalled one of us mentioned that we should sit down to lessen the impact of the wind on us, but I was so tired, my backpack has become so heavy, that I thought if I sit down, I wouldn’t be able to get up. And then X said, “I wish this is just a dream!” --- adding the nippiness to our spines.

That was the longest, most physically-tortuous hours of my outdoor adventures... (that I could recall)...

Finally, the guys found the trail and we reac
hed the camp site around 8:00pm. Climbers (whom we met in the previous climbs) noticed us and helped us pitch the tents. That was really very numbing. Sooo numbing that we almost could no longer understand Wench’s instructions on what to do and where to go because our brains iced up (hihihi), that’s another e
xag! But let it be...)

So, whenever it gets so cold here, so windy and dark, I would tell myself, “This is nothing compared to Mt. Apo!”

(In the picture: Damang, Mimi, and I, at the background wearing blue scrub suit is Wench. I can't recall where's Liog)
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