PHOphotoTO

while reika took shots, in the background lurked a maria. hence, phophototos :)

MAJOR MAJOR

"What was the one big mistake that you did in your life? And what did you do to make it right?"

While Ms. Philippines would say that she has had no major problem in her 22 years of existence, i would say:

"The application of astringent around my eye area"

Yes. You've probably seen the attached picture by now, and bets are you've been tilting your head in different angles, thinking "what the ....??"

That's my eye. At least it was, around late May this year. 2010.. 

I didn't miss a day of work. I attended meetings, went shopping, run errands looking like that.

When the fine print reads "do not apply around eye/lip area" -- Believe it. Obey it. Or else, regret it.

I applied the product before bedtime, and woke up to a rock-hard face. Yawning resulted to torn lips and forcing my eyes open brought about cracked eyelids. They were sealed shut. I looked like one of Pacquaio's opponents for some time. Eyes, nose and lips -- Cracked, swollen and bruised.

The condition worsened after a few days, with me dreading if this would be permanent. 

I couldn't talk well nor eat chew-worthy food without pressing a milk-dampened towel against my lips. 

The milk helped a lot, really softening the skin for a while...

Then there was petroleum jelly. It's like heaven in a jar. :)

A week went by then my dry skin cracked, peeled off on its own, then fell loose. I know. Eew.

Haha. Talk about peeling facials -- the hard way.

Beat that, Venus Raj. :p

eew.

A TRIBUTE TO NANAY

by Reika Hwang on Thursday, October 14, 2010

Nanay was buried October 14, 2010.. I read my eulogy to her in the mass before her interment..

A big thank you to all family and friends who extended their condolences and especially those who went out of their way to be with us in this difficult time. 

___________________________

Josefina Caballero 1919-2010

___________________________

91 years, 8 months, 22 days

4 generations celebrated in her existence.

It will be hard not to miss Nanay. I learned a great deal of life lessons from her.

I was always Nanay’s “favorite grandchild” – well, at least I claimed to be. :) 

nanay's "ate charo" when letters arrive

We bonded during weekly trips to the market. In choosing meat and vegetables, Nanay would be very particular -- just like a teenage girl shopping for shoes. After buying the freshest ingredients for her mouth-watering dishes, we would pass through this dark alley with an intoxicating aroma. Vendors would recognize their “suki” and rush to bring out the finest leaves from the depths of their store, hidden from the view of non-regular buyers. Tobacco was Nanay’s guilty pleasure, and I was her secret-keeper.

Nanay was a miser. She collected everything that could be put to use “someday”. She knew I collected new crisp money bills and would quietly add to that collection.

Though not monetarily rich, Nanay always exuded refinement. She’d buy different fabrics and create her own clothings. Even curtains and bedsheets were one of a kind. I remember Nanay sending us cute knitted dresses which she air-mailed to Korea.

dresses by nanay :)

Anyone who wore clothes ironed by Nanay knew how sharp they looked from the precise pleat intervals to the invisible hand-stitched hemline adjustments. I haven’t met anyone more meticulous.

 16 years ago, Nanay had one dress specifically designed, one which I witnessed her bring out and adjust to her body measurements as she aged, and for as long as she could operate her manual sewing machine.

On October 9, 2010 she wore that dress out for the first time.

Nanay entered her 2nd childhood a few years ago and depended everything on Tatay.

March 2009, our ever-so-strong Tatay deteriorated in a matter of days, leaving everyone devastated and Nanay longing for his return. Nanay spoke less, but one word remained in her daily vocabulary: “Tatay”

In her 91 years, 8 months, 22 days, she was not only a mother to mama and mommy, or a grandmother to me, my siblings, and my cousins, or a greatgrandmother to zeik. She, in fact, was a mother to all, and always carried herself in that manner: generous, selfless, and elegant beyond compare.

I’m lucky to have grown up knowing my grandparents, I’m sure everyone who has had the privilege feels the same way, and thus now mourns in equal measure.

But more than that, I’m lucky to have had Merto and Ening for my grandparents, whose way of living was simple, yet exceptional, and whose values live on beyond death.

Now, as Nanay exits this life, we can only be happy that she has joined Tatay in a better place. A place where he has waited, patiently, for their love story to continue..

ening&merto

THE SHOULD-BE PARANOIA OF A DAILY COMMUTER

[heads up: that is NOT me in the photo]

i ride a cab at least twice a day.. i find it the most convenient way to move around, especially here in manila. it may be a waste of money, but precious time is saved and effort is lessened.

everyone warns me to be extra careful and to be choosy in picking a cab -- i am. but sometimes, my only purpose is to get to my destination and that one important advice just slips out of mind.

I've heard TONS of stories of traumatic cab experiences from family, friends and office mates. most of them involved hold ups, thefts, and perverts.. first-hand experiences and those that have been passed on by word of mouth. but this one particular incident stood out from all those stories, since i heard there was an actual online post..

as i was randomly browsing facebook this evening, i stumbled upon the widely-known note.

chills run down my spine as i read through it.

i revived this post NOT to create prejudice against cab drivers. most of them just want to make a decent living. i may have been suspicious of some, been cheated on fare charges, been caught in heart-pounding situations, but thank God nothing close to this has happened.

let us just be warned of the dangers that may strike us anyplace, anytime.

if this could happen to her, it may happen to anyone..


21 months has passed: the wounds have healed, the trauma remains. and that driver still lurks the streets of manila.

one driver. one of many.

read on..



_________________________________________________________________

January 13, 2009

After four months of not going to a club (LITERALLY), I finally did to show some support for one of my best friends, Mel and to see friends who I haven’t seen for the longest longest longest time. It was the first time I’ve ever set foot in Encore (to think I used to go to Embassy every week). It felt surreal to be out and without my boyfriend, LJ, who couldn’t come due to an early class the following day.

I only had 4 drinks: 3 Amaretto Sours and a Mai Tai. It felt good seeing a lot of my friends. We took so many pictures that my fully charged camera went low bat. Anyway, Mel and I decided to leave Encore by 2:30 A.M. Our friends stayed behind since the club closes at 3 A.M. Mel and I were taking separate cabs since she goes home to Mandaluyong and I to Makati. I WAS COMPLETELY SOBER. Not even a bit tipsy.

I remember telling her as we were leaving the club “It’s my first time going home in a cab alone from this club.” Mel was a bit concerned, even offering me to stay over her place for the night.. I told her not to worry, I ALWAYS get home safely.

So we went to get our cabs and I made sure Mel got into her cab first. Then I was looking for a cab who wouldn’t fix the price (you know how it is at The Fort) and there was one who volunteered that he’d use the meter. So I took his offer. I distinctly remember most of the waiting cabs were DAVIS cabs. Mine was not. And I was so damn stupid not to get his taxi’s name and plate number.

In the middle of the ride, I started changing into regular shorts and top. The driver wasn’t looking though but suddenly his hand reached for behind and I was surprised. He was saying, “MAY NAHULOG. Wallet mo ata.” I found a 50 peso bill on the floor. Then he said, “Ang dami mo sigurong pera. Mayaman ka noh?” I didn’t answer. I started getting nervous. I started looking for the cab’s number (which is usually written on the side of the doors). There were faint markings but it couldn’t be understood. The driver noticed my agitation and said, “Anong hinahanap mo? Plate number? Bigay ko sayo.” I was like, “Never mind.” I did NOT want him to know I was getting nervous already. Plus we were so near my house. I thought, what could go wrong?

But something did. Three streets away from my house, the cab driver “hit” a pothole or hump or whatever. He pulled over to the side and said, “Tangina, pano na yan? Na-lock yung steering wheel. Hindi ko maikot.” I was just looking at him, confused. I have no knowledge of cars so I do not know if he was bluffing or not. The meter was 75. I gave him a hundred. He had no change daw so I was like, “Fine, whatever. There’s nothing I can do about it.” I stepped out of the cab, in the middle of Bautista Street, a long street but near my house. It was almost 3 A.M. When I looked back, the cab was gone.

HOW IN THE WORLD WAS HE ABLE TO DRIVE AWAY IF HIS STEERING WHEEL WAS “LOCKED”?

I called my boyfriend up AND THANK GOD HE ANSWERED HIS PHONE. He was sleeping already, good thing the call woke him up. I was trying to remain calm. I told him my dilemma. Suddenly an empty cab drove by. A DIFFERENT ONE. I hailed it. I had probably less than half a kilometer to my house which was three streets away. The cab took me in and I ended the call.

Two more lefts, it was my house already. It was Camalig Street, then Bigasan Street. Suddenly the driver went left, the street just right before my house, Camalig. I said very politely, “Kuya, MALI. Atras ka, atras ka. Sa kabilang street pa. One more left.” The driver just kept driving like he didn’t hear. I said it again. Then he stopped and looked at me. Then he said, “Bayaran mo na.” I was weirded out. I was like, “Why? This is not even my house. It’s on the next street.” Besides, we haven’t traveled far. The meter was still at 30 pesos.

SUDDENLY, without warning, the driver grabbed my neck and jumped to the back. My first thought was, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?”. But his grip was getting tighter and tighter. I literally couldn’t breathe and felt my consciousness slipping. As we were struggling, I kept scratching at his eyes and reaching for the lock of the left door. He was on top of me hitting my head repeatedly while his other hand around my neck. I was choking and choking when I realized the left side HAD NO FUCKING LOCK, which means I couldn’t get out. Which means I had to try my luck on the right side. Imagine my struggle to get to the other side as a full grown, heavyset man kept bashing my head, scratching my face, pulling my hair and hitting me. I kept scratching his eyes. It was all I could do. When his grip loosened a bit, I managed to open the right door with so much effort. Unfortunately he pulled me back with my hair. Imagine MY TERROR as the door closed again!!!!! I couldn’t scream anymore. Besides, who would hear me I was inside a fucking car. My neck was so sore and I was close to fainting. I kept scratching his eyes and reaching for the door until by some miracle, I opened it fully and screamed with what was remaining of my voice.

The driver said something like, “Tangina, it’s not worth it.” And literally kicked me out of the car. I rolled out onto the street with my shoulder bag which was slung around me the whole time with its remaining contents. The driver suddenly sped away. Till now, I don’t know his motive, whether it be rape or hold up. Or both. Or murder.

So there I was in the middle of the street, barefoot. Then I realized why the hell am I so wet?! I realized I was sitting in a pool of my own blood. There was so much blood dripping from the right side of my head, it was like a half-closed faucet if you get what I mean. I started screaming for help.

This time the apartment I was right in front of lights’ went on. Imagine the horror on these people’s faces as I literally crawled towards them bloodied and barefoot. When I reached out to them for help, I saw my arm. It was covered in blood. And I could feel that I was losing so much more. I asked for a cellphone. I still had the consciousness to call my boyfriend. The people who took me in were nice enough to let me call. They talked to LJ and informed him of what happened. They even cleaned me up. Suddenly there was the barangay people and witnesses. That’s when everything became hazy. The barangay people said that they had to take me to the hospital because I was losing so much blood.

I was taken to Makati Medical Center ER. I still remember as I was being loaded onto the wheelchair the horrified looks of the people outside the hospital. I even had a high school batchmate who was assigned as my nurse, Erika Bautista (THANK YOU SO MUCH). In her own words she said that when I came in I looked like I was already in critical condition. I am not exaggerating when I say this: I WAS LITERALLY COVERED IN BLOOD. Head to foot.

Everything was in a daze after that. All I remember was the blood. Under my nails, on my face, on my hair, on my neck, my chest, my legs, my toes. Even my armpits had blood. Truly, I have never seen so much in my whole life. My face started bruising up so much I could see my right cheek even if I look straight ahead. I also had so much hair falling out because the guy kept on pulling it. But what bothered me was the blood that kept dripping continuously from the right side of my head… and the pain. The doctor said the cut was so deep it LOOKS LIKE I WAS STABBED. It was really bad. I wouldn’t stop crying. I hate the sight of blood and here I am, a walking bloody blob. My first medical gown was drenched in blood. So they had to change it. I changed my medical gown four times before I was discharged. That’s how bad the bleeding was.

When LJ arrived the hospital, I forced myself to be cheerful. I smiled and said “HAPPY MONTHSARY!” It was our 2nd monthsary. Geez what a way to spend it. Till now this hurts me, thinking how ironic the situation is. He said the wounds on my head were like the claw marks in the Jurassic Park movie logo. B, no words can express what I feel towards the situation and how grateful I am that you were there. Basta alam mo na yun.

Anyway, after a few hours, I got a CT scan to detect hemorrhages and X-Rays. Good thing it all came out negative. But I had so many wounds and lacerations on my head. They had to STITCH THE RIGHT SIDE OF MY TEMPLE AND ANOTHER ONE AT THE BACK OF MY HEAD. But there are still minor wounds all over my head, even the inside of my ear has blood till now. Till now my hair is all stiff and sticky from the blood. They shampooed my hair in the hospital but a lot of it still haven’t come out. (I woke up today with dried blood on my pillow).

The first time I saw a mirror, I could not believe my eyes. I thought it was just dirt and dried blood but then I realized I had a giant bruise on my right cheek and deep scratches on my face. I got a Wet One but it just won’t come off. I had to face it, my face was really fucked up. My neck had strangle marks, my jaw was swollen, I had two semi-black eyes, my cheeks were patches of black and blue and the abrasions and cuts were deep on my face. I look like the Bride of Chuckie.

After they sutured me, I became delirious for sometime. Not knowing what I was saying to LJ but he said I was acting strange and started rambling about random things that I don’t remember.

The police came and they got the license plate of the cab DAW from the witnesses but they weren’t sure if it’s accurate. We’re still planning an investigation. I lost my school ID, cellphone, cash and camera. The only things that I salvaged from the incident were my shoes, a brush and a dress. They were covered in blood as well. Now, the question is, are the first and second cab incidents related? Is it a Modus Operandi?

Anyway, I’m out of the hospital now. My body is aching all over and my face looks like Pacquiao practiced on it.

The reason why I am writing this note is TO WARN EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU PEOPLE TO BE CAREFUL. I never ever thought such a thing could happen to me. I thought it only happens in the movies. Imagine, I was just a street away from my home and THIS HAPPENED. A STREET AWAY. Thank God I wasn’t drunk, Thank God the guy did not have weapons (I think), Thank God some kind souls helped me. Thank God I had the presence of mind not to remove his hands from my neck but to scratch his eyes out and reach for the lock. Some girls initial defense would be to un-strangle themselves but I didn’t. I let him strangle me. My main objective was to get the damn door open and escape.

The doctor told my boyfriend I was lucky to be alive, before leaving the hospital. As I was struggling inside the taxi, I did not see the whole “your life flashes before you when you’re dying” thingy.

NO. That’s why I fought against him as much as I could. I told myself over and over again, “NOT TODAY… NOT TODAY… This isn’t how I should die. I’m too good for this.”

I SAW the reason why I should keep on living. That’s why I’m still here today.

PXG 725 or PSG 725 White Taxi

the victim/author of the story attached
again, this is not me.....

HOLDING THE SUN

My family and I were taking pictures to kill time while waiting for our flight at the Diosdado Macapagal

International Airport. Some shots were against the light and I remembered an email received wherein the subjects had the sun in their hands. The sun's shape wasn't well-defined but we had fun playing with what there was. Here are a few shots of my father holding the sun:

adjusting angles to get the desired shot

up top

fireball

sto nino

firefly

Try playing with sunsets, you'll get a more defined circle and a more colorful background :)

UNWINDING ON THE SHORES OF A PRESERVED COASTAL FORT

what makes perfect?
a sunny day at the beach, 
a long vacation with my siblings, 
and an ice cold coke in can. :)

in my efforts to come up with a creative pose,
this is what i get.

buried our sister in hea-vy sand
and captured the moment with a dubai-ish backdrop

straight down, baby. straight down. :)

my brother chillin' and 

secretly hoping no one would stumble on him.

reclaimed sand on singapore's artificial beach

My siblings and I visited the 3 beaches of Sentosa on our first visit. Tanjong beach seemed too private and secluded, with families and hotel tenants who reserve the area for parties. At Palawan beach, the crowd consisted mostly of Indian locals and tourists visiting the southernmost point of continental asia, while Siloso beach was flocked with Singaporeans and young adults.

We chose to hangout at Siloso beach on our second visit. We fitted in perfectly with the crowd. (physically, i mean) Our Asian looks had people mistaking us as Singaporeans. haha.. :)

My sister bought a new swimsuit at the souvenir store and got a free beach bag with her purchase. 

I was the official photographer since I decided to stay at the shore as I was wearing a beach dress which i bought for only 3 dollars. cool huh? :) We each brought a camera but forgot to pack the waterproof Olympus. Note to self: Bring waterproof camera on out of town trips. 

Fried ourselves for half a day, gazed at the beautiful sunset, and fell in line at the public bath just before closing time. A visit to the beach always completes a vacation. I'm definitely returning to the shores of Sentosa. I can't wait to bury my toes into the treasure trove that is Siloso. 

COUGHCOUGHCOUGHCHOKE

I always defend my hometown when encountering people who have visited Baguio and who give detailed comments on how polluted the city is. The city which was once the cleanest and greenest in the country is now dealing with trash problems, heavy traffic, and a black cloud that seems to permanently reside above the entire plateau. Tourists complain about how dirty their noses get after a day in the city (i'm sure a lot of us Baguio residents have heard of this side comment before). What can you expect in a place with jeepneys and taxis as their dominant mode of transport? Add to that, the never-ending uphill struggle on steep roads and high hills. Vehicle windows are confidently kept down, allowing the invigorating Baguio air to slap you right smack in your face every 2 minutes. Yes.... inhale.. exhale..

Visit Baguio to admire what's left of it, there's still much to be discovered.

Better not travel if your purpose is to fill your urge to judge and criticize.. That snot is one Kleenex wipe away. :) 

SHUCKS, MY CHUCKS!

What makes an original Chuck Taylor all-star more comfortable?..
The answer is DIRT. ohh yeeees..

Aside from the air holes and non-slip soles, its canvas and rubber material make this shoe preferred by.. well, me :) Don't you just dread its first few days when the soles are oh-so-white and the entire shoe is crease-free? You could just imagine how many people would notice you're wearing new footwear.
We tend to deliberately step on them to give that "aged-feel" and to make us 50% less conscious. :)

Recently, I went shopping while wearing my 9-month old chucks which I planned to replace -- Aged, Dirty, Soft, Comfortable. I was trying on a pair of the same converse shoes I had on when the saleslady asked me how long I've had mine. Without waiting for a response, she immediately suggested that I use mild soap in washing my shoes. "MIND YOUR OWN SHOES!" I screamed in my mind as I was annoyed by the nosy personnel, then politely answered "i like them dirty".

I glanced at my shoes, then stared at the display, then back to my shoes, then back to the display...... This went on for a few minutes..

My day ended with a debit swipe and a pair of Filas at hand. As for my chucks, I'm keeping em dirty. :)




for more info, visit:
http://www.converse.com/#/products/collections/ChuckTaylor

NIPPON (SUN ORIGIN)

The annual vay-k. :) Filed the longest leave i could probably get in a year for this visit. 


Nippon is the native name for Japan. I chose to title this post as Nippon since our visit was spent more on knowing the history of the island nation of Japan. With my father as our tour guide, we sight-saw and visited temples and museums as he explained the country's foreign relations, military governance, and other amusing facts. 

We also spent time with my aunts and met our cousins for the first time! Is that exciting or what? :D 


Don't be fooled by the wearing-one-sweater-during-the-entire-duration-of-the-vacation. It was f/r/e/e/z/i/n/g cold. Springtime is a supposedly warm climate for the residents -- @7 degrees celsius! hohoho.. With that temperature, you'd opt to wear the articles of clothing you had previously warmed your body heat with. haha. I did. No dirt, no pollution, no sweat. ;) The air was so clean and thin that i developed asthma in a day. Borrowed my cousin's nebulizer for that.


Everyone was so disciplined and quiet, the silence was deafening. It was as if we didn't have neighbors. Even malls were quiet -- you'd hear more machine beeps than human voices. This was a huge adjustment, especially coming from the Philippines. =p

Presentation is key in serving meals in Japan. It's where dishes actually look exactly like, if not better than, their pictures on the menu. The more presentable a dish is, the more delicious, it is thought to be. We ate ridiculously large servings of food thrice a day and hefty snacks in between meals. Had to finish em all, since take-out? No-such-thing. Omg. 

nearing our destination, 16 minutes away :)

spoiled by PAL :)

Appetizer 

Went western on the plane. No rice. =/

I just can't get enough

Hello0 pretty sushi

Impossibly fresh sashimi

Manjyu

Desserts @ Denny's 

Pa & Ma at Yokosuka Bay

Moi, with a beautiful sunset bouncing off Daiei mall

Love Love Love the toilet controls!

Cousins! by pair :) 3rds, 1sts, 2nds

Saro Soba and tempura and Indian sitting

My hearty bowl of ramen and condiments

Hey Mister, that's a Mister Donut doughnut!

Bike-friendly overpasses :) go lil bro!

Electric Bike <3

Sakura (cherry blossoms)

Roast. Grind. Brew. 

coincidental poses :)

panoramic view of japan, 69 stories high @ the landmark tower

shin by the porch

@ home

meat meat meat. 

a hot bowl of i dunno

bo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oks

the war ship museum pass + cold bumps

Logbook comments :)

Upon return, I realized what I love so much about the Philippines. The tropical climate, the sleeveless tops, the short shorts, the noisy environment, the rowdy people, the manila pollution, the left-hand driving, the to-go counter.... The list is endless. 
But things that we love are bound to be missed. 


I want to see the other side of Japan -- The non-traditional futuristic country that we know.. The other side of Nippon.