Batad Rice Terraces

Batad Rice Terraces

One of Philippines World Heritage

...and the fog comes in...

From beaches to mountains, the beauty of this country knows no end. 

It took me 2 hours of mountain trekking to reach this World Heritage up North. I was with some experienced mountain climbers and they said that for a first timer what I did was no joke. So when we reached the place they gifted me with a shirt that says, "I Survived Batad Rice Terraces".

I never liked mountain climbing or trekking. I did it once in 1995 and I promised myself I would never do it again. I never understood why these people, the mountain climbers, get this kind of high when they go up a mountain. I could not relate…until our Banaue and Batad expedition recently.

Anyway, the hike was not easy, but I took it easy. I did not pressure myself. I bid my time and just enjoyed the view. Walking through the winding path by the mountainside with all the green surroundings, gave me a feeling of calmness. At the same time it saddened me because most of the people that we crossed paths with that time were foreigners. But when we reached our destination, I was in awe. I was speechless at the sight of such beauty. My spirits lifted, and seeing what was before me gave me a sense of pride. Pride that I am a citizen of this country with all of its wealth. 

A friend once said that the beauty of this country are reserved to those who are willing to get dirty and sweat their butts off. Believe me, it’s worth all the sweat, dirt and mud at the end of your journey! A most rewarding experience! J

I LOVE BREAD

I have been wanting to post this recipe but i still needed to ask permission from my friend. 

Last Christmas I received a special gift from a friend who’s a Chef. She knows that I have a special relationship with “bread” so when she gave out her presents I was so sure that I was on top of it when she made that wonderful Raisin and Cashew Braided Ensaimada! I am not fond of raisins but this one made me forget that I was not suppose to like them. Haha! :)

Here’s the recipe… 

http://energychef.blogspot.com/2011/12/kulinarya-cooking-club-december-2011.html

THE STATUE, THE MAN

A dream, an imagination or for real?

I looked at the statue, about a foot-size, it stopped turning its head from left to right to look back at me. A tiny smile on its lips.

I was lying on the bed but sat up with a start and shouted, “Stop!”

As if gliding, it descended from the four-and-a half-foot cabinet it was sitting on and transformed into a man.

Seated on my bed, I continued to cry out, “Stop!”  louder this time but i could feel my throat start to tighten.

Still floating, the statue that is now a man continued to come nearer, looking back at me without any expression on its face but I can feel and see the contempt very evident in his eyes. Without opening his mouth, I could hear him shouting back at me with words I could not understand.

Feeling like being nailed on the bed, I struggled to get up but could not. With both my hands held up high, I forced my voice out and yelled, “Stop!” , making sure that he heard me. 

He continued to approach with his gliding motion and deliberately, also raised his hands and locked them with mine.

With our eyes and hands locked together, we both continued to yell at each other. He, with his incomprehensible words and I...I just kept shouting at him while struggling to pull my hands from his tight grip.

Suddenly, I heard the bathroom door open and saw my husband come out. The man that was a statue, still without any expression on his face, released my hands and calmly backed away, scorn still fills his eyes.

My husband started to shake me to wake me up. I slowly opened my eyes as I saw the man or was it a statue, gradually disappear in the background.

"A dream, a figment of my creative mind or for real?"  ")

little birdie

Oh little birdie,

Peeking from a tree

"Look, look back at me.

I am holding a slingshot

Aiming at thee..."

and he said "HELLO"

AND HE SAID “HELLO”

It has been more than 25 years but I still think about him.

I still can’t believe that after all these years I would see him again, and of all places not in this remote province of Dumaguete.

It has been a habit every time I visit Dumaguete, I would stroll by the Boulevard and take pictures of its ever-changing scenes and sceneries – as if there are changes.

 It was near dusk. I was just going thru my usual routine. Walk along the Boulevard, look, take pictures of the landscape and its people. As I scan the faces of the people thru the viewfinder I suddenly froze. The face I was focusing on and who was looking straight at me was very familiar. I lowered my camera, looked at him when he suddenly smiled.

I smiled back. He stood up and walked towards me. The man has dark curly brown hair with a hint of gray.  His smile was friendly reaching his brown eyes. As I look in his eyes, there was a familiar glint. When he was about five feet away, he said, “Hello.”

I said, “Hi.”

Then he asked, “Tabs?”

My heart skipped a beat. There is only one person who calls me that. “Tisoy?” I asked back pointing a finger at him.

He laughed so hard it brought me back to reality. A laugh so familiar it brought warmth to my heart.