The Dancer... and Other Street Style Inspirations

Seen on The Sartorialist.

Gorgeous.

From Trendy Crew. Time to more hats and sunglasses.

From Easy Fashion. Time for a haircut perhaps?


From Street Peeper (1) and (2).

Ang Kahon

I'm supposedly on holiday but still I woke up at 7:30 am today. Since I arrived home I've been sharing a bed my dad who, I discovered, snores like crazy together with his regular trips to the bathroom in the middle of the evening.

At four in the morning, I hear the pan de sal (some type of bread usually eaten at breakfast) seller going around the village hollering at the top his voice.

At five, tricycles start plying the streets and we all know how annoying they sound.

At six, some sanctimonious radio announcer, who the household listens to every freaking day that God makes, comments about the ludicrous Senate hearing on the latest sex-video scandal.

At seven, the neighbor, armed with a Magic Sing microphone, wails to some stupid Bon Jovi song in front of his TV for the whole village to hear.

All these and a cacophony of other annoying noise leaves me no choice but to drag my self out of the bed while holding back my self from shoving the Magic Sing down my obese neighbor's throat. Ugh.

Good morning, bitches! Nothing makes a perfect morning than good old bitching, chai mai?

That said, let's go to more inane stuff.

As a ritual, one of the first things I did when I arrived home was unearth my box. THE box contains some memorabilia of the days when I had a body mass index of 15, and we all know how long ago that has been.

I discovered gazillions of letters from friends in high school (Nikki, haler!!!!). I hang out with these friends at school everyday but we exchanged letters nonetheless on things such as thank-you-for-being-the-best-friend-in-the-world. I swear I find them cute, I truly do.

And then there are also loads of letters from my girl "pen-pals" from all over the world, i.e. Finland, Brazil, Sri Lanka, and even Thailand. Together with my high school friends, we once went crazy collecting pen-pals. Which reminds me, I might check the names of these pen-pals on Facebook.

Oh, back to the other contents of the box.

I also unearthed dozens and dozens of student papers from my university days. Hardly anyone owned a computer then so we wrote our drafts in long hand on yellow pads (after which we went to the computer shop to type and print them. History lesson, anyone?).

There are also a few graded papers and blue books. The latter reminds of how poorly I did in some of my courses. I disliked my major subjects like law, project management, and public finance. I often find my self inside the university cinema the night before long exams, which explains why I barely passed my major subjects. On the other hand, I worked hard on minor subjects that were more interesting for me, e.g. literature, sociology, philosophy, and international relations.

The box also contained many of my artworks (naks!) when I dabbled into watercolor while in the university. I also found my stamp and money collection still in good condition. Oh, I still even saved my medals from school. Ewwwww.

There were likewise a few notebooks and scraps of paper of some amateurish poems I wrote (goodness, please remind me to burn them ASAP).

But the things that I refuse to burn are my journals, no matter how embarrassing their contents actually are. There quite a good number of them journals, one is as far back as 1994. I've read a few entries from the various journals and I could not believe I bothered to write about such inanities as "it rained today". Now I realize how I became the queen of writing inanities.

Those journals are worth closer inspection though, mainly to find out how I think then. I wonder if I changed that much. In my 1996 journal for instance, I remember writing a lot about my confusion on my sexuality in between comments about the latest storm that hit Surigao. There are also a few entries about how I questioned religion interspersed with notes about the latest pregnancy in high school.

Gosh, major processing itech!

I'm bringing the old journals back to BKK.

Meanwhile, I decided to throw away a few of the box's contents, such as school notebooks covered in purple art paper and empty purple pens (I was THAT gay).

So I made more space in the box, hopefully to fill it with a few more stuff as I go along.

Maradjaw Karadjaw... Surigao

Let me take you around Surigao, bitches.

First, I noted that the weather since I arrived had been unbearably hawt. And I mean, HAWT!!!

I did not expect this as Surigao is usually cloudy, rainy, or stormy. And among other things, I love the gloomy weather in my hometown except that it has terribly failed me in the weather department these past days.

Nonetheless, Surigao is still the charming, crumbling, little city that I love. Except for a few new buildings, very little of the city has changed.

Anyway, let the tour begin.

Below is the town plaza in front of the cathedral. We call it the Luneta, after THE Luneta in Manila. The statue in black robe is that of Dr. Jose Rizal, Las Islas Filipinas' national hero. His statue is found in every plaza in the country.

The Surigao City Hall, which is also across the Luneta.

Two pictures of people in the Luneta.

This woman sells mangoes and santol (I don't know what it's called in English). Her stall is outside the Luneta and after class students flock to stalls like this to have snacks of these sour fruits.

A mobile sari-sari store. "Sari-sari" means we-sell-pretty-much-anything-and-everything-bitch.

Aha, the tricycle of course. Surigao city is best seen in our version of the tuk-tuk. They are noisy and are a good source of the air pollution in the city.

This is the style of the tricycle in Surigao and some cities in Mindanao. Some cities have very distinct styles and of various levels of "garishness" as well. Sizes also vary. Some can accommodate as many as eight passengers while others can only carry three people.

Gosh, I could not leave Las Islas Filipinas without paying tribute to Jollibee.

The next three pictures were taken at the Surigao market. Since we are surrounded by water, we have seafoods galore. Clams, seaweeds, and the most colorful fish abound. Well and the occasional chorizo too.

Oh, Surigao is not Surigao without the chicken BBQ at the pier! Where do I start about this awesome delicacy, bitches? Basta, BBQ is the passion of every Surigaonon.

And last but not the least is Mabua Beach, about 15 km away from the city. My friends and I hang out here every chance we get. On weekends every hut in the beach is packed with families.

The pebble beach also has some of the most majestic sunsets in the city.

Kadayawan Ladies

I arrived in Surigao yesterday after about ten hours in a cramped bus from Davao. I'd write about Surigao in the coming days.

Meanwhile, I shall share some pictures of my reunion with the many primera amigas I have in Davao. They are pretty much the women who shaped my four years in that city. And they know that I would die for some of them.

During my one-week visit to Davao, I met ex-colleagues, my enduring fag hags, my mentors, and my foster mothers. 

Daisy and Mickay... two of the people who serve as my anchors.

Sarah... fag hag extraordinaire and the official emo queen of Southern Mindanao, even perhaps of the BIMP-EAGA. Choz!

Grace... my exuberant mentor.

Thea... gotta love her for her flair.

Rosie... charming little dynamo.

Exes... ex-officemates Rhea, Thea, Leslie, and Philip.

Gimmick-mates... Thea and Ceril, we make the trinity of irodology back in the days of hedonism in Davao. 

Love you all and thanks for the inspiration.

I especially dedicate this post to Joyce, who is bravely facing cancer. My thoughts are with you, dear.

Now girls, I want you to work on those clavicles and ribcage, ok?

Stuck in Bogor

I arrived home tonight from an official trip to Bogor, a city in the slopes of a mountain, two hours from Jakarta. Because it was for work, there's none of the usual faggotry. I did not have the chance to see much of Bogor, anyway.

My memories of Indonesia would be the view of pale blue mountains that I see every morning from the window of the bungalow I stayed in.

And endless traffic jams, which we endured when we visited Jakarta for a few hours yesterday... and those hours were mostly spent on the skyway and highway. Haggard much?

If I'm going back to Indonesia, I'd definitely skip their capital next time.

All right, so that's pretty much what I can say about my first time in Indonesia, primarily because I did not have the chance to see more parts of it.

Let's post some pictures instead, shall we?

Tomorrow I leave for Davao, a place I called home for nearly five years. Cannot wait!!!

Three weeks in Las Islas Filipinas: Davao, Surigao, Manille. Looking forward to see many of my dear old amigas and spend time with la familia.

Will try to update this blog as much as I can while I'm away. But for now, I'm stuffing my self with Davao bananas and pomelo.

Mesmerized with Bangkok

Hay, back to regular programming please. Those emo posts of late are so not me, puhlease lang. Enough na. Let's go back to what I do best... faggotry. Ok, mai?

I haven't had a weekend roundup in ages, no? I have been hibernating in the house for weeks now. God knows how hot it is in BangCock these days, I swear I'm not exaggerating.

I come from a tropical country but the heat in BKK is just nothing I've experienced before, it totally drains me of all energy. So instead I just stay inside my bedroom with the air-conditioning on full blast... which pretty much explains why I'm bereft of any weekend report.

Anyway, on the first weekend of May, I played tour guide yet again to some friends dropping by the beautiful City of Angels.

Two Pinoy bloggers spent their honeymoon in BKK. Uyyyyy... We shall call them Miss Antigua and Miss Fiji. Well I did not really go tour guide galore with the two title holders coz one of them knows BKK quite well. We pretty much met in the evening and I showed them around the chaotic and sleazy parts of BKK.

Also, Erica Escudero viuda de Magsaysay, a very close friend of Bubbles, visited BangCock for a respite from his base in SingaBore. So Erica, Bubbles, and I went on a clubbing and drinking binge, more or less, for four straight nights.

That was exhausting. I need detox. I am soooo not going out clubbing for the next few months, I swear.

Yesterday, I visited the Bangkok Arts and Culture Centre (BACC) to check their latest exhibit on photographs of BangCock. This is part of the Bangkok Bananas, an art festival of sorts. I wish I watched more of the performances in Paragon, but I've explained already why I refuse to go out of the house.

Before the festival closes, I dragged my self to the BACC to check on the photographs, which are some of the most delightful pictures I've seen of Bangkok. They're not exactly cutting edge nor ground-breaking, but it's always fascinating to discover how other people see BangCock.

I've always said that BKK is very photogenic, with all its contrasts and arresting vibe. Many of my friends who visit BKK also could not help incessantly clicking on their cameras when I show them around.

The exhibit at BACC shows how many ways one can interpret all the daily things that we see in this city. In a way, it's a paean to the twisted beauty of BangCock.

From the BACC, I hopped on the Skytrain to visit the Thailand Creative and Design Center (TCDC) at the Emporium. Their current temporary exhibit is called Quick Bites: Design for Better Eating, which is dedicated to the ubiquitous food hawkers in Thailand.

Anyone who has visited BangCock is often captivated by its street food culture. Friends who come here always remark that they cannot help not eating all the time because you're never more than a few meters away from tempting food.

I agree. There's absolutely no excuse to go hungry in BKK.

The TCDC exhibit thus gives credit to how street hawkers have shaped urban culture in Thailand. It features photographs, video clips, and reproductions of the many creative ways in which food is prepared, served, package, and consumed... quirks and all.

Many of the things on display are familiar to any one who has lived in BKK, albeit we have often times just ignored them as part of our daily lives. The exhibit puts the spotlight on the amazing creativity and ingeniousness that goes with eating in this city.

The two exhibits in BACC and TCDC are wonderful reminders of the rough charm and contrasting elegance of BangCock. Living in this city has been an endless journey of discovery of its idiosyncrasies. I know I couldn't get enough of BKK. It has totally enamored me.

But all right, I might have to detach my self from the city for now coz I'd be momentarily away for some work-related trips. Tomorrow I'd visit Indonesia for the first time and shall stay there for a week-long meeting.

The following week I'm flying to Las Islas Filipinas for the first time in nearly two years! I'm stoked! I'm fucking stoked! It's a last-minute thing that I only learned from my office last Thursday.

This trip is made up of a week-long workshop in Davao and then I extend my stay to visit the familia in Surigao for about ten days and about three days in Manille.

I'd try to maximize my three-week stay in the patria. I'm so eating adobo, pan de sal, pansit, sinugba... and throw them up in the bathroom. Ewwwww. Excuse me for that. Oh, I might even try a Pinoy or two. Hahahaha. Choz!

If only I could get someone to water my plants while I'm away.