Caridad Once Again!

I'm on my second week of a three-week holiday in Las Islas Filipinas. While I have quite a bit of things to share on this blog, I'll first tell you about my short trip to Siargao Island (Tuesday to Thursday this week).

My mom's home barrio of Caridad is on Siargao Island, east of Surigao City. My cousins, sister, brother, and I used to spend our summer holidays there, getting sun burned all the time from playing too much on the beach, which faces the Pacific Ocean. We ran around in the rice fields and coconut groves and loved riding on water buffaloes.

Those summer trips in Siargao always meant so much fun although it was far from unbridled because my grandmother always compelled us to take afternoon naps or to go home as soon as the sun set. When I think of my fondest memories of my childhood I think of those summers in Caridad.

For this trip, I wanted to get a slice of the place once again, after all I haven't visited Caridad for maybe 14 years. My grandmother does not live there anymore though and my cousins could hardly fit a trip there.

It's quite amazing how little of my grandmother's house has changed. It has the same old cabinets, although they've been ravaged by termites. They are all beaten too by the harsh ocean breeze. But they have somehow managed to stay intact after few repairs.

I was fascinated to find that they have kept some old kerosene lamps, which have been rendered useless since electricity arrived on the island. I couldn't help my self from taking photos of these various old stuff.

On my first morning there I made it a point to wake up early to catch the sun rise on Caridad's beach. Oh the place of wonder when we were young!

We spent so much time taking a dip in its many pools that are revealed when the tide is low while huge waves crash in the distance. I could still easily find where they are and the rocks from which we dove. In fact, I first learned how to swim in one of the deep tidal pools when I was about 7 years old. I also remember catching tiny, flat, and transparent fish and those spindly and soft starfishes that used to scare the shit out of one of my cousins.

A few kilometres from Caridad is Magpupungko Beach, perhaps the area's main tourist landmark of a huge rock perching on top of what looks like a pedestal.

And then I stumbled into a few relatives who have stayed in the barrio. They told me of their memories of my cousins and me when we used to stage dance programs on boring, electricity-less nights and how we used torches as stand-in for spotlights. It's fascinating how many of them recognised me simply because of my supposed strong resemblance to my mom.

The trip certainly made me feel nostalgic of those carefree days, well, under the careful and loving watch of our grandmother.

While there are many familiar aspects of the island that remain unchanged, I've noticed several improvements. For one, now the barrio has a high school instead of the kids walking 6 kilometres to the nearest one. Also, the highway has been just recently paved with concrete. There are also more water pumps to serve the residents, which it appears is growing like mad!

Needless to say I had an amazing time in Caridad. It was great to reconnect with my childhood memories. And I'm also happy to see that it is moving forward in the right direction (if only they could stop making too many babies though).

When I was 10

I saw him today. On Facebook. My first boy crush. Instantly, I was brought back twenty years ago when I was in Grade 5, when I started getting attracted to boys, and, well, I never looked back since then.

I do find it amusing that the catalyst for my affection for boys/men was no other than him.

He was a transferee from a different province, so, right from the very first day of Grade 5 he immediately caught everyone's attention. He was the typical tisoy boy (I marveled at how light-brown his hair was), with an easy confidence, and speaking with an Ilonggo accent (in fact he spoke Tagalog with and Ilonggo accent). Not long after he arrived in school, every girl had a crush on him. He was, of course, voted as the Escort for the grade level that year (yes, we voted for Muse and Escort in school... argh).

Let's call him R. I remember I could not look straight at him, or just feeling awkward whenever he was around. But I could not stop stealing glances at him as well. You know those weird things we do when our crush was around? Yun.

It did not bother me that I'm a boy having strong feelings for another boy (OK, a stupid crush). I was in a Catholic school, but I never felt guilty for the attraction, although I did not tell anyone about it either.

One time, we went on a field trip. The night before the trip, I prayed the rosary, specially asking Mother Mary for R and I to sit together on the bus. I bloody swear I did. And somehow the prayer worked because the next day we sat beside each other. I was ecstatic, needless to say; I even offered him my Hi-C, which he refused.

I wonder if indeed I eventually became a bit obsessive over him because at one point I started talking aloud to my self, pretending he and I were having a conversation. It lasted one summer break.

In Grade 6 he was moved to another class. He was elected Escort of Grade 6, naturally (ugh). Anyway, that meant I did not have enough chance to interact with him except in drafting class when all the boys of the same grade level would have a class on drawing and wood work and all that macho shit, separate from the girls who were taught sewing and embroidery. By then, his mystique has dissipated from me; I realized he's not that smart after all, and in fact he became a part of the gang of naughty boys. Big disillusionment!

In high school I noticed him around campus, acting some sort of a leader of those jocks that excelled in basketball (what else?) but kept on getting caught in fights with boys from other schools. By then, I completely lost interest in him. (I became asexual in high school.)

And then in second year high school he got one girl pregnant. They were both thirteen. The girl was also in the same high school. She had to stop going to school for a year as a result of the pregnancy. R, of course, continued going to school where his friends started calling him Tatay (Daddy), a title he seemed to carry with pride, despite having no role in raising the baby.

Years later, after my university years, I bumped into him on Siargao Island where he seemed to live a surfer lifestyle, or pretty much being a bum. When I saw him, it struck me that he was not as gorgeous as I thought he was... or say, he was not as gorgeous as when I first saw him.

So today I saw him on Facebook. Stalking his other albums, there are photos of his wife and daughters. I stared at his photos, trying to trace, and recollect, his features when he was ten years old. Doing that did bring me back to memories of how stunning he was, or at least how I perceived him then.

Time space warp, ngayon din!

When I was a kid growing up in faraway Surigao my family had a black and white TV. It had a dark wood casing and behind it was a brown wire that was connected to a spindly antennae propped on our roof. The TV was decked with knobs for the volume and other adjustments as well as buttons for changing the channels.

But then we only had one TV channel coz this was the age before cable TV. Instead, a company called Southern TV broadcasted movies and TV shows starting at six in the evening until about ten. Four hours a day is not bad at all.

My earliest memory of TV shows was of my mom crying in front of the TV set (why was it called a "set" anyway?) while watching the soap "Flor de Luna". I was only about four years old then and I could not understand Tagalog yet so I did not have any idea what the story line was. All I remember was a grainy close up of a girl in tears.

These were not direct airings from Manila though. Recordings of shows from Manila-based TV channels were flown in to Surigao. Southern TV then aired these shows, which were at least two weeks old, sometimes even a month old or perhaps much older.

I really could not care less about these TV shows mainly because there were no regular airings on TV. Sometimes there were months when nothing came out from the screen especially after a strong typhoon blew away the antennae, which was quite often.

One of our neighbors' mom worked in Saudi Arabia as a nurse, thus, they were blessed with a colored TV. They even had a Betamax player!

We would often hang out in their living room watching The Sound of Music, Annie, and Never Ending Story for the hundredth time. Occasionally we would watch The Ten Commandments, which was two tapes long. But that always made me sleep until Moses parts the sea in the second tape.

Much later on we'd have regular broadcasts of taped TV shows brought in from Manila, but still these were months delayed.

The ones I remember are Lovingly Yours, Helen and Eye to Eye. Again, I could not understand much of these shows coz they were in Tagalog. It was always fascinating though to watch some actresses having a cat-fight at the base of a grand staircase in some mansion or Inday Badiday interviewing the mother of a baby with hydrocephalus.

The shows that caught me and my friends' fancy was That's Entertainment, with those mestizo teen actors and actresses dancing to a Menudo song while wearing dresses with puffy sleeves.

I would always remember Romnick Sarmienta and Sherryl Cruz singing to some cheezy love song. Meanwhile, fans screamed at the foot of stage and a lucky few were allowed to scramble on the stage to hang garlands of sampaguita (jasmine) on their idols' necks.

On weekends we'd have GMA Supershow with German Moreno and his bejeweled suits. He was always surrounded with a cadre of female co-hosts encased in an armor of shoulder pads and topped with ginormous tsunami hairstyles set to perfection by hours of hair teasing and cans and cans of hair-spray.

The hideous fashion sense of GMA Supershow was perhaps the sole reason why I watched it... well aside from the Bellestar Dancers of course, di ba mga bading?

Oh, That's Entertainment and GMA Supershow should be a separate post altogether.

Meanwhile, the two shows that my friends and I did not ever want to miss were Shaider and Bioman, which were Japanese TV shows about alien-fighting superheroes.

The shows were dubbed in Tagalog but by then I still did not understand the dialogue. Instead I simply watched the action sequences that mostly involved the superheroes first transforming - just by shouting "Shaider!" or "Red One!" - from their jeans into their sleek and tight-fitting costumes. Of course they always wear a helmet to protect their identity.

And off they are fighting against reptile-looking monsters (in some mascoty costume) that just stomped through a cardboard building.

Gosh, wasn't Shaider a hottie? I believe he was my first man-crush. We did cheer for Shaider everytime that drag queen-looking villain shouted "Time space warp, ngayon din!".

And who could forget his assistant Annie who always wears a yellow miniskirt that shows her panties every time she kicks a monster with her boots? I've always fancied my self to be Annie and I'm like crazy over her bangs and pig tails!

Immediately after an episode of Shaider or Bioman my friends and I would rush out of our house fired up like our much-beloved superheroes ready to slash aliens with our Shaider Cutter.

Oh, if we were playing Bioman, I always INSISTED on being Yellow Four, which is a lady character armed with her Bio Arrow. Why not, aber?! With our black and white TV I would not even know who is Yellow Four if not for her Bio Arrow.

Aside from these two Japanese TV shows (that spawned a dozen copy-cat shows), we also watched occasional airings of Orang Engkantada and a few other shows. But none had the same impact on our imagination as Bioman and Shaider.

It was not until 1992 when Surigao finally had regular direct broadcasts from Manila. By then Shaider and Bioman had been eclipsed by... hmmm... I could not remember which. I just remember having our first taste of ABS-CBN, which kept us hooked on TV, primarily watching X-Men, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Baywatch and local shows such as Ang TV and Batibot.

Anyway, we still kept our black and white TV while the rest of the neighbors have moved on to colored TV. However, my parents decided to move it from the living room to their bedroom when they noticed my sister and I watching too much TV instead of studying.

Eventually, our TV started to get more grainy and grainy despite repeated trips to the repair shop. At one point a black line appeared in the middle of the screen and the pictures kept on moving up like it was on a loop. We tried adjusting the little knob at the back of the TV to keep the picture steady but it did not really fix the problem.

I could not remember the exact point of the TV totally not working anymore. But by then I've lost any interest in it coz I started watching TV of one of our neighbors. They even had cable!

Because the Baby is Now a...

Look what I found in the family albums in Surigao?

I have no idea how old I was when the photo below was taken. I couldn't have been more than one year old then, no? I hate my sister for out-pouting me here. And look how obese I was, I could not even see my clavicles. Gasp!

But really, this is one of my super favorite baby pictures of my self.

Next picture... Now look who's werqing the cam, bitches. I know I was born a diva and I'm not accepting objections from you, ha!

I must be around three here, no?

Don't you just adore the hair? Ricky Reyes isdatchyu? Farah Fawcett isdatchyu? And the legs, dahling. I cannot be more gay at three years old, chai mai? Somebody started soooo young it seems.

Next picture... is that a king or a queen right there? I could be between four and five years old in this photo. I remember I was in nursery school then and I volunteered to be the king in the school pageant.

I swear even back then I'd do anything to wear couture. Alexander McQueen isdatchyu? Christian Lacroix isdatchyu?

Honey, see how I perfected the art of modelling that early? Notice the elongated neck. Check the jutted jaw. And the signature pout of course!

I know! Like I define FIERCE even as a baby.

And now, my rebith as...

Senora Magdalena Sotomayor viuda de Putin

(Thank you Joyce for letting me wear your wig in Davao.)

Now that explains why I cannot be a drag queen.

Halo-Halo Delight

Last Tuesday evening, I dragged the Pranses to a restaurant that serves halo-halo right in the basement of a popular department store in Silom. I only knew through a Thai officemate that My Little Home, the name of the restaurant, serves halo-halo. The place does not even indicate in their menu that they serve other Filipino food such as adobo, pancit, and kare-kare. Only those who are in the know would actually order those dishes. While there are a couple of Filipino food stalls in BKK (inaccessible and chaotic Pratunam), I'm not sure if they serve halo-halo at all. The very day my colleague gave me the halo-halo tip I was instantly on craving mode.

So there I was sitting in My Little Home, beaming like a starving street child when my tall glass of halo-halo arrived on the table. Of course I had to start with the ice cream on top (yeah, we had special halo-halo) and worked my way down. I taught the Pranses how to first properly mix all the ingredients under the thick layer of ice and not until we finished that part of the ritual did we start stuffing ourselves with the delectable dessert.

Each country in Southeast Asia (I heard) has their own version of halo-halo... or at least anything that has crush ice, milk, and some beans or jelly mixed together. I've tried the Thai kind, which is equally interesting.

Halo-halo of course is very MAJOR to me. I swear it's my favorite dessert EVAR. And for some reason, it reminds me of my childhood when all it matters is just eating halo-halo and then I'm all happy. No other food can do that for me, well maybe except adobo and binagoongang baboy. (Tang ina, na-gutom akech.)

The halo-halo in My Little Home did not disappoint. All the basic ingredients were present, except for ube and leche flan. It was also a bit too sweet and could use more milk, but I'm not complaining. And certainly, it was very special coz I was sharing an evening of halo-halo with, ehem, the Pranses.

Photo credit: The Urban Sinner

Sashay, Shante

The zenith of being a ramp model, according to Tyra Banks, is when you can walk down the runway with "wind in your hair". She was referring to a built-in wind machine that you create while sashaying. Watch any Victoria Secret fashion show with Ms. Tyra on it and you'd understand what she's saying.

Only a few select models can successfully create the effect. These are models who can bring magic on the runway with their long tresses looking like wings flapping gently. I know Carmen Kass can do that wind-in-the-hair thing perfectly; so can Maria Carla Boscono.

As a frustrated runway model (choz!) I have been working on that wind-in-the-hair effect for some time now. Every chance I get I try to come up with a particular walk that would somehow toss my hair like crazy. The only thing that has come out of those efforts though are several instances of me almost falling flat on my face right on the pavement. It's hard. But I will not stop trying because clearly I was born to be a ramp model.

When I was a young gay bastard my first foray into walking down the ramp was in the aisle of the cathedral in bumfuck Surigao. For some reason, relatives and friends of my parents often tap me to be the ring-bearer in their bloody weddings. Of course I was always ready to walk any given aisle. Who can resist the idea of walking down a carpet decked with flowers left and right? Who can resist the idea being drowned in camera flashes from all directions? Isn't that the best practice for the life of a runway model?

I swearI had a signature walk. It's all in the stride. They should be long but slow. My mantra was GLIDE. And of course there's the requisite half smile.

But the harsh part of being a fucking ring-bearer is wearing the stiff barong and carrying the boring pillow. I always envied the flower girls who wore long skirts with ribbons galore. I yearned for those baskets of overflowing flowers that they carried! I even envied the fact that those little cunts are wearing make-up.

When I reached about seven years old, my ring-bearer days were over as apparently I was not cute anymore. But at least during my "retirement", I was Surigao's top ring-bearer ha.