so here goes the story of 18 people.
in two days.
at one place.

the boracay diaries in pictures.

it is but sad that SO MUCH FUN had to be reduced to frozen frames as these... but as the cliche allows me to divert: do not cry that they are merely frozen memories now; smile because once upon two days in your life, you had that much and you have these to remember them by. 

if you book at red coconut, it's sure you get a breakfast with eggs sunny side up, eggs all yellow, eggs any way you want. and garlic rice. and oily, greasy, cholesterol-rich corned beef. you're lucky if you get hot macaroni soup with no tinge of mayo, which you need by the way if you were red horse beer or tequila dead drunk the night (or wee hours of the morning) before, in the absence of the all-time favorite drunkenness silencer, bulalo.

seriously, book at red coconut. they have very good barkada-friendly rooms at the back of the main building. the area back there does not include a pool so you're most likely to vomit in the garden. (i call this giving it back to the plants.. they make almost everything edible anyway).

so the second day started with a sunshining morning and a breakfast before 9. by 9, we were soaked under the energizing heat of the boracay sun. some of us were just standing by at neck-deep distance from the shore, talking, and estimating the move of the clouds (where are they going?). it's naturally amazing that the thick, black clouds that cried mad at the whole island the day before were almost gone. it's naturally moving how God heard our plea to make our second day and our only full Boracay day, sunshiningly perfect. i only soaked for two hours and got a very pretty tan already. (i wore my new tankini and bottom)

the others were sprawled on sunchairs under red coconut beach umbrellas getting what they later described as the best way to get massaged. i didn't because i was already soaked to my neck with lukewarm water and i loved every minute of it. i also didn't because i'm not into full body massages. i also also didn't because i was eyeing on splurging on water sports.

while we're on this let's just jump right into it. so we found a really good agent who pushed the flying fish to us for 350 a head. i first heard of this from my breakfast days. atom was flying on it all alone. there were five of us in our float -- me and cai in front, melissa, maica and anya at the back. the right side of my face has never felt so unfairly harassed and my legs have never exerted so much effort to keep folded so as not to hit anya at my back but everything else was a blast. maica was screeching at falcetto pitch all through out the ride. melissa fell 3x. and carlyn fell 2x. on our way back to the shore (still at high speed), carlyn's bikini got caught up between her butt cheeks, so brushing her skin in that area against the sandy (painful) surface of the float. she was crying out for help for 5 minutes, the same amount of time the rest of us were trapped in irrepressible laughter.  

after the flying fish dropped us off, tita rina and tita chona were walking to a yacht for the parasailing. they asked me to come along and not counting the P1500 fee, i wanted to SO much.

so i did. tita chona in the middle, tita rina on her left and me on her right, we were whisked away to the horizon. at the highest point, the term silver lining made sense, referring to the visual end of the infinite sea (does this make sense?).

to say the least, it was peaceful up there. i don't think anybody could get closer to God than being up there. tita rina was moved to singing "Yahweh You are near". yes, a hundred feet up the waters, our fears conquering the beauty served in a platter before us, and God conquering our fears.  as tita rina would have it, "there's no way we dared to get up here with confidence hooked on anything other than faith."

aye! i was really hoping that eventually into the ride, i'd let go of my deep fear of heights, but it partnered with me the whole ride through. i dared to conquer it; but defeated... confidence hooked on nothing but faith.

touching down was relieving, but instantly, i missed being up there. i should have just let go.

we walked to jonas at station 1 after. every must-do in boracay guide includes doing this so we all  hopped in the wagon. i got avocado-mango despite carlyn's thorough explanation on what exactly this green meated fruit contributes to your body (fat). they served it on bottles (as in the same as how mineral, distilled waters come at P10 or P12). we all agreed on the guess that this place is where all our garbaged water bottles go. considering they're always a full house, no doubt they go all the way to mindanao for empty bottles. i finished my bottle down to the last drop, though i think it was too creamy. i didn't become an overbottle fan. i'm more for the cold shakes, with the ice not blended all the way, but saved for some meltdown action in our mouth and throats.

it was sunset when we walked back to our station 2 coconut. a hundred pictures were taken against the beautiful skies that looked like a melange of the best shades of orange, yellow, blue, white and black. it could only be a michael angelo. a couple of sails were parked neatly by the famous shores, and on a low-peak season, the beach had hundreds of black heads everywhere, enjoying the last glimpses of the july 28 daylight . i could remember enjoying the same sight around 5 years ago in our first boracay visit. but tabata insists, "the sunset is different everyday."

that was to be our only sunset. the sunset the day before was shadowed over by the somber breaks of the crying mad skies. God heard (again) our nagging plea (often just emotions, many times verbal) to make everything Boracay fall normally into place. on our second and only full day in Boracay, everything was perfectly in place. the boys and the most astig anyaning were catching ball at the shores (in between ting's slumps in the sandbed), putting motion in the sleepy beauty of the sunset skies. my ONLY regret during the stay was not waiting for the sun to fully set and for the last of the sunset colors to blend with the blackness of the night. that's my ONLY regret. the rest i must say, make for an incurable nostalgia that only pictures can bring back (that's why i'm wasting no time to get some printed and most to my pod).

looking at the pictures, more than 75% have the boracay nighttime in the background, which requires no explanation. to say it was fun is to downplay what really happened there (and should be attributed to my UNitch to blog longer]. it was not [just] fun, it was a grand AND a great time. 15 members of the family. 3 welcomed out-laws (for now anyway). out of the comfort zones; out to take a break,  to get some time-in with family. my cousin anya sums it up correctly, the best gift we gave to the boracay weekend was our time. yeah, we brought in the party (as marty would put it). yeah, we naturally extracted some sunlight and marked them in our skins. yeah, we colored it with our bikinis, tankinis, one-piece, two-piece, and other stringed confidence. yeah, we loved it unconditionally, regardless of the dome that hang above us all -- sunny, cloudy, rainy. but at the core of it all, was our time.

birthday boy tio perok, claire (joefrance's girl), cai, tita chona, iana (with red hat), maica (with pink hat), ivi (with pink hat), joevince (with red hat), marty (all the way from canada cousin who "inspired" the trip; though as a joke, it was really the irrefundable plane tickets and hotel fees that got us off our butts and leave; BUT at its core, it was just to get away from our partially pent-up everyday lives and run away with the people we could just go uncovered with and live), ting (hands down, THE party meister), joefrance, jiggy, anya, (down, left to right), tabata (joevince's girl), chichu (who at that time was already and secretly engaged), melissa (who at that time was already and secretly engaged), tita rina, and tio paolo 

can never forget boracay.
never forget boracay.
ever boracay.

to chichu and melissa.
finally.

the feel good factor about chicho and melissa is that we like them individually (especially our cousin melissa, hehe) as much as we like them together. they're a cute (as in both are cute) couple that beams a natural happiness. they don't show off stolen kisses, tightly crossed fingers, and bear hugs; a clear indication that what they have offers both a certain bliss that goes 1000 feet beyond skin deep.

chichu planned for it to happen in boracay. not wanting to deduct melissa's time with her cousins for too long a time, he scheduled a daybreak walk at 5:30 on saturday (i mean, who among us would wake up at 5:30 am?). but as the boracay norms in july would have it, the weather wiped out nearly the whole shore length, robbing chichu of that source of inspiration (not that he needed more). so it happened entirely differently; except for the start of the speech, "mel, i want to spend the rest of my life with you..." and the end, "yes."

need i spoonfeed who started, who ended what?

i remember in melissa's yes-i-will-marry-you-and-tell before chichu arrived in mamita's place for monday's dinner (july 30, marty's last night in cebu), she was looking for anya's sisterly support when all her grips on reality were slowly losing to her anxiety and excitement, and to the inital signs of the bride-to-be euphoria.

but in the final decision [that if anybody else would think about it] would require thinking over and over (a course of weeks), she only needed chicho...
and everything that happened when they started filling up each other's lives two years ago.

not even a grip on reality.
heck, they deserve to be in cloud 9.

but that isn't to suggest that melissa jumped on stage, announced to the world and flashed her ring (the ring!) like a carried away wave; 

she wanted her parents to know first.
then mamita.
then the rest.

last night, on marty and tito mar's despidida, chicho kissed mamita for the first time.
before two years is over, mamita will have her 35th apo and by God's agenda, her first great grandchild.

oh what sweet rose does not deserve another petal to its full bloom?

the newly-engaged and tita marissa broke it to her in the middle of her telenovela habbit. the pressure wasn't and will never be rough on chichu, as mamita repeatedly told him that all she wanted for her eldest female apo is a buutan and maningkamot husband.
2 checks.

for the rest of the group (who were still gathered around the dinner table), marty started with "here's to the future mr and mrs..." but realizing he didn't know chichu's family name, continued with "... to the newly engaged couple...". and everybody understood.

 tita didang was the one who first shrieked. in her 1-piece PJ, she walked to the two and hugged them both. as if on cue, she called up tito jaime-in-manila who so adores chichu that he even asked the phone be handed to chichu first before melissa.

it was a wonderful, champagne-filled, love-rich, tearful goodbye, but a cheery "to 2008" and "to chichu and melissa" evening.

in tito paquito's words, "it wasn't a surprise. it was bound to happen. i told these girls that what i only wanted was for them to find a good man."

"and with melissa, tito, she's really found one in chicho, diba?"

no response, just the biggest smile i've ever seen in this father's face, like he was already picturing out his first girl walking in the aisle to the man she's bound to for the rest of her life..

speaking of the rest of ... life, as i mentioned, that's how chicho started with his speech.
and yes was how melissa ended it.

congratulations.

(melissa in the middle)

melissa is the oldest female cousin.
from a cousin's point of view, she is an ideal daughter. respectful, hardworking, responsible, and loving.
26, and SO ready for the world... domesticized.

who would be walking down the aisle after tito pao (the youngest of mita's brood) did in 2000? 1999? was a toss-up that yeah, went for too long a time already. only one thing remained true now as it was then, it would be one of the apos.

the bride-to-be tag was tossed between maica (bennet days, which is SO over), joefrance (venus days that thankfully, is over; now, he's with claire), joevince (juri days -- heck! now, he's with the darling tabata), carlyn (francis days, which is ticking awake, alert, alive until now), and melissa (we knew always it was going to be chichu).

now that toss-up has touched down.

boracay was so much fun. too much fun, perhaps; my eyes want more than anything to pop out of its sockets. they are very sour from the sleepless weekend, and perhaps even more of the nostalgia. they just want to go to bed again, and go against the rest of my body that needs to work. and work harder to pay for my absence in friday. i did not mention this: the boss when i asked his permission to miss friday's work, wanted to hear from me "oh forget it sir, i could miss the trip," but i didn't. heck, NO.

there was turbulence on the way. clouds are not only to love, but to loathe. that flight goes in the list of worst, beside canada-l.a. in 1999 and sydney-philippines 2004. but from a safe distance, like 50 meters from the plane or 10000 from the ground, i do i STILL ove seeing them all fluffy, and whitey, and just pure adorable. like diapered kids jumping on water bed. 

the only turbulence on the drive from calibo to catiklan were the males word-harassing each other; well, mostly, they were thrown at my cousin joevince's way. he can be such a pain. the weekend with him around made us see that the only thing that can be saved of his personality is his attachment to his brazilian girlfriend tabata, whom we ALL just love. carlyn said it right, "tabata, if joevince won't marry you; WE will marry you."

seriously.

we arrived in boracay late in friday afternoon wet and wild (as in tita rina's words: we all got wet from the rain, so we all got wild), all thanks to the harsh water and wind ride from catiklan to boracay. but that somehow (although it was a good try) didn't dampen our spirit at all. AT ALL. some arrived in jackets; but after booking in at the hotel, carlyn still went out with her mesh top over a sky-blue francis-gifted bikini. that's the spirit. that's what boracay makes of you.

moneyless we were, the first on the agenda was going around D'Mall (bought a really helpful tankini top and bikini bottom) and rainy it was, mango cinnamon crepes! that's the spirit; that's what boracay makes of you.

the first celebrities we saw out of the magazine were the tall and handsome jason webb and his heavily bottomed claudine wife. we also saw bianca araneta's UNbrother, paolo araneta. that's the spirit; on the lookout for celebrities is what boracay makes of you. though with paolo, there really isn't much to look out for. his height. his small face. thanks.

the skies were raining and the trees moaning, weather for the night. we had dinner at hawaiian barbecue (uhm, i'm not sure if it really go with that name). the ribs were the best i tasted since green house's. against the past few weeks where i ate the lightest meal that could still make my tummy happy, i ate with abnormal gusto in boaracay. for each meal, just one cup of rice. and a half of another. (liar)

we all headed to station 3's summer place after. we stayed at the back of the bar, even after the management asked us to move to the front and gave us two free pitchers of blue stuff to to keep the party going). well, it did go on until around 1 pm for us. the girls were all drunk, even tita chona! apparently, she used to work for a liquor company (that makes tequila!) so my question, "do you drink tita (in UNboracay circumstances)?" was not in place at all. she and tita rina were the cool of queens. queens of cool. have it in any way.

that was it and thousand of pictures for the first night. (i owe you two events now!) i have to get back to work.

til next.

it's hard to picture being in boracay against any background here in cebu city, but with an airplane booking and hotel reservation in tow, in 28 hours, we will actually be there. make it... we will actually be there!!!

(hopefully if the skies and the heavens and the universe don't see sending our airplane elsewhere the TIME -- what am i thinking?!)

here we come!
(p.s. the baby is not coming, so with 2 other high schoolers in the picture, one college freshie and one striving model)

but for the rest, bottoms up!

75 petals.
may it take another 75 before it wilt away.

(pictures to follow)

at this time last week, we are lunching at mamita's house. the second lechon in 12 hours is lying fat on the table. all 34 of us cousins, and 9 of them sons and daughters, with all 9 spouses in full attendance, are spread out in mamita's house. the women ate lechon and mangoes for dessert (anyone?) with their hair already set by willing hands and strong, suffocating hair spray. time is running. we have to be at the hotel by 4 pm for the family shots in the makeshift studio. mass is at 6:30 pm (6 pm in the invitations for the late comers). later, we head on to the grand ballroom because the studio apparently can't contain all 53 of us. 34 cousins, 18 fathers and mothers, and 1 wonderwoman whose birthday we're all celebrating.

the priest emphasized in his homily that mamita's turn in to her 75th year and the celebration it called for do not level in importance as all that mamita has brought to this side of the world. it doesn't matter after all, he says [taking cue from the famous cliche], how many years a person has lived through, but what he made of those years.

if mamita's bloom is fueled by what she's done in her life, she would be the most beautiful flower of all. a tulip at that. a callalily. a most beautiful of all. i could barely hold my tears while swaying and singing to ben taylor's vocals-less "i will" with my cousins under 12 in front, us big girls in the second row, and them big boys, formed a neat but wacky row in the back.

who knows how long i've loved you
you know i love you still
will i wait a lonely lifetime
if you want me to i will

'cause if i ever saw you
i didn't catch your name
sing it loud so i can hear you
make it easy to be near you
all the things you do
endear you to me
oh you i will

i love you forever and forever
love you with all my heart
love you when we're together
love you when we're apart

our parents followed with kapantay ang langit, a pilita corales' original that they purposely chose to give a rightful segue to a touching gimmick. when the last note of their minus one faded, pilita made her entrance, repeating the last phrases of the lyrics in her oh so famous husky sultriness in a capella and THAT bend [my cousin carlyn has perfected it by the way].

maica on her right. melissa on her left. mamita let out a big laugh along with everybody else's big applause. outside the apos and fathers and mothers, nobody knew pilita was invited. 

after around 8 songs, there was a loud request for an encore, and she gave an encore. after we gave her a rightful segue, she also gave a rightful segue for the band, singing with them in their first song. pilita didn't disappoint.

the open bar didn't disappoint. the band did disappoint (we were asking for 80s music, but beatles came up instead). but we were all still up on our dancing feet until 1 pm.

in mamita's 70th party, we just got initiated into drinking, and getting drunk was a secret kept among friends. in mamita's 75th, all secrets were laid out. bottles of san mig beer, champagne glasses of blue kamikazee, 3 bottles of jose cuervo (what i managed to count anyway), a bottle of tequila rose (for us ladies, and the other half i bet my brother tingtong consumed), and bowls of teasers, chasers, and (weirdly enough) vinegar for joben.

mamita approached our crowded table before she left, and we cheered her on. we cheered our grandmother. we cheered our wonderwoman. we cheered her 75th year. and all the goodness that came with it.

there's a song playing at this very moment. i thought i'd never miss it for some time, but it started with, "who knows how long i loved you, you know i love you still..." and realize, i do miss it already.

i just got my hair permed again. i look fluffy now. the good sir from bridges gave me a cut. now i'm trying to forget how much that cost me because i love everything he did to my hair. snip snip here. snip snip there.

"who was the last one who did your hair?" he asked.

"um, me, sir. why? is it that bad?" i answered.

"hmm.. it's wavy so i couldn't really tell." he replied.

aww... he was nice enough to say "how horrendous!" in a very nice way. thanks, francis.

i do think i look pretty with my pearls on.

I spent the rest of my lunch break today reading my friend Vera and emptying the small, white, and relenting bucket with the autumn-colored chili sauce (really, they reminded me of the falling leaves at the small village in Australia where the Blue Mountains and the autumn colors are) that I requested to go with my Chowking Siopao. Not everybody would agree (what with KFC’s Hot Shots, Jollibee’s Jolly Spaghetti and McDonald’s sundaes), but Chowking’s Naicha is the best treat to come out of a fast food chain. I’m avoiding cold drinks these days, but this one has to go semi-frozen to be extra loved. It’s the frozen goddess of cold, tea-pretend drinks. I could finish 2 in one day.

It’s a mix of sad and happy news that the past days catered to. A writer of a column that I always read thru at Sunstar Daily committed suicide. Apparently, she also teaches my cousin Eduardo. And she’s a good friend of my good friend Vera. It’s intriguing that you’ll know a person more in a moment’s reaction to suicide than you ever did in her many, many years as a writing, public-ing figure. Well, we react faster to suicide. More than we do cancer. Or a car accident. With cancer and car accidents, you’re up against the forces of nature and of the rest of the world. With suicide, you’re against your own force. What drives it? Why drives it.

… (three dots)

At the other tip of the scale (slanting towards that sky blue, orange, yellow happy), tita Rita arrived with her size 2, with tito Mar with his golf bag, with Marty with his second shirt tucked in his pants’ bum pocket, Francine with her mechanical puppy that licks on its mechanical milk bottle, and Eduard with his “Any number multiplied by zero is zero, DUH!”.

Mamita’s birthday on July 10 was a bash in itself. It was an UNtearful but nevertheless warm reunion (tita Rita with her family last visited 2 years ago), but what it [also] was WAS a bloody (brown) but glorious chocolate feast, that two days after, still caused my stomach a relentless bloating and moaning for the Brookside Chocolate Bowl’s Almond Nuts with UNsugar-rich chocolate coating. I’m pretty sure by my 100^th nut, it was chocogasm at its sweetest tendencies.

I wonder how she does it, but even my sister’s close-to-no-eating eating lifestyle did not cave in to the chocolate bowl. I want to be ashamed of my 100 nuts, but hey, it’s chocolate, chocolate lovers!

The actual bash for Mita’s 75^th will be on Sunday. My cousins and I settled on the song “I Will”. But I’m pretty sure (again) that we’ll just go second in this year’s collective murder contest to our parents’ rendition of a Corales original. [Fair results report later.] We also settled on a P9500 painting as gift to our lola. If we can shell out P900 for Haiavanas in just 1-2-3 seconds, why would our wallets mind weighing P500 less in 10-11-12?

So there’s the story. 20-21-22. August 29, here’s to you!

I was just showing a couple around the showroom. They’re quite a lovely Howard-and-Jan-into-the-oil-industry-Tan duo. They were turned on by the furniture alright, but they also happen to be the best patrons of Filipino art this country could possibly give birth to. Based in Singapore, their collective hobby (next to “I’m pretty sure”, this is my favorite usage of the post) is looking out for potential Filipino artists they could introduce in the Lion City. They’re not just oh-i-understand-that-abstract-thing-ee; they actually push for the promotion of the Filipino greatness to the world.

Now, that’s a turn-on.