A UNICEF tent standing in the plaza. Five months after, and the world is still helping. Tacloban City, Leyte, Philippines.
Showing posts with label Philippines. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philippines. Show all posts
UNICEF
A UNICEF tent standing in the plaza. Five months after, and the world is still helping. Tacloban City, Leyte, Philippines.
Brief Pagudpud Memoirs: The Rock
I'm back in Pagudpud once more. Since I first stepped foot into its sandy beaches, there has always been a sense of familiarity about this small town, as far from it as I've grown up. I had been aching for a break from the numbing grimy stench of city life and consequently grabbed the next opportunity to pack up and look north. This time around, I found myself exploring the more known sites of the province.
A Very Brief Sojourn in Kalinga
It was the first time in my life that I had seen fireflies on my ceiling. When you live in an overcrowded and extremely polluted city, you grow accustomed to reading about certain things in nature, yet never really seeing them. Save the ubiquitous stray cat, dog, sparrow, or cockroach, I would dare say that one could have lived in Manila not seeing any other type of animal for years. Except rats.
But I wasn’t in Manila, no. The serenade for the senses that was unravelling before my eyes was taking place in a small valley in the province of Kalinga. Fireflies were aglow on my bedroom ceiling while the constant rush of the river soothed my wandering mind better than crickets could have. Not that there weren’t any crickets - what must have been hundreds of the soprano-like maestros were singing in the darkness, perfectly complementing the midtones of the water to form a harmonious night lullaby, one that would rival the best nightingale from stories old.
Lighting Up Samar
Half-seated and half-crouched I rode, inside a van making the four-hour journey to Borongan, Samar; a city on the eastern coast of the Philippines. We were about to drive onto the San Juanico Bridge, longest in the Philippines and in itself an impressive sight. I looked out the window. The glistening blue-green hue of the clear Pacific waters greeted me like a passer-by waving to a float on a parade. The familiar scent of the salty sea-breeze made its way through my being and gave me that sense of home-away-from-home. Random little islands littered the landscape like green polka dots on a blue dress, isolated groves of trees with their own mini beaches, sandwiched in the strait between two larger islands.
A Short Break From Travels
I'm currently typing this from the proverbial eye of the storm of the consecutive provincial shoots I'm having. I have just gotten back in Manila from Samar, a province on the eastern coast of the Philippines that has had more than its fair share of typhoons and other natural disasters, and tomorrow I leave once more - for Surigao, a province that is only one island away from Samar.
It's been a busy past four days, albeit quite fulfilling. I've been shooting for One Million Lights, an NGO about which I have previously written. It's been a novel experience for me. Since most of my vacations around the Philippines have been in and around the island of Luzon, where I live, it seemed a bit surreal to be in an area where not everyone understood my language, almost as if it were in another country.
Nevertheless, endless interesting moments and curiosities abounded. One of these was Father Tito Abuda, in the photo above. He is a Catholic priest, doing God's work in the city of Borongan in Samar. We caught him wielding a shiny new saxophone just as we were leaving the cathedral after meeting with the bishop of that diocese. He explained that he initially took it up to pass the time. Since then, it has turned into a wondrous way of sharing the beauty of music as well as worshiping through song, as evidenced by the entrancing refrain he graced us with. I felt a tinge of jealousy at his skill on an instrument I have long wanted to master, but all that soon gave way to my sense of awe at finding such a man in such a remote area.
Tomorrow I leave for Surigao on a shoot of a somewhat different flavor than this previous one. I hope to have cellular signal there, as it will be even more rural and remote than wherever I went in Samar. This summer has definitely been more interesting than I hoped it would be - a good end to April, and certainly something to look forward to in May. May the light be with me.
Pangasinan - Fishing for Bangus Part 1
I excitedly hopped around the sturdy workboat as it steadily made its way out of the cove just off Pangasinan towards the collection of fish cages about twenty minutes from the coast. Anton, my guide and host for the next couple of days, was explaining to me the ins and outs of bangus (Chanos chanos) farming. The fish farm we would be seeing grew ocean-bred bangus, as opposed to the freshwater bangus industry in other locales. This, plus other practices that they had incorporated, translated into fatter fish with a superior taste (a claim which I made sure I verified that night at dinner). I could barely contain my excitement as I imagined thousands of fish thrashing around in chaos as a sturdy net slowly pulled them in for harvest.
One Million Lights - Rizal
Sharing a couple of portraits I made from the recent distribution of One Million Lights in Montalban, Rizal. While hearing about their cause is heartwarming in itself, it is a totally different experience just being there, while they do their work. The excitement and buzz that ensued among the crowd as we stepped out of the vans, the small outbursts of joy as the villagers tightly clutched their precious lanterns, the instant lightening of gait as they walked around the gymnasium, all were sights best had up close and personal.
A Proud Cousin
A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of attending the 26th anniversary of the first EDSA Revolution. For those who aren't Filipino or have somehow managed not to listen in history class, this happened in 1986 when the people rose up against then dictator Ferdinand Marcos in a bloodless revolution. He fled the country and Corazon Aquino, wife of his political rival and martyr Benigno Aquino Jr, was installed president.
Normally, I don't particularly observe these holidays and leave the celebrations to the ample hands of the politicians and other government employees, but this time I had a better reason than patriotic feelings tugging at my heartstrings - my cousin was to be awarded at the ceremony.
Meet my cousin Mark Lozano. He's the guy on the left in the above photo. He's a master debater (competes internationally), football player (varsity throughout elementary and high school), wicked guitarist (plays the meanest Satriani), sacristan (yeah, he's a good guy), and he has his own NGO. He's also not of legal drinking age yet, with all of seventeen years behind him.
Time Machine
About an hour away from my home, there exists a small portion of the city where,
if you focus really hard,
and ignore the occasional motor of a passing car,
I swear -
You'll be taken back 300 years.
Postcards from Pulag
Last weekend I travelled to Mount Pulag with three friends, visions of the last trip's view of the summit still fresh in mind. We took the late night bus to Baguio as usual, then contracted a jeepney to take us to the trail and back.
It started off well enough. We made good time to Baguio, and the ride on the way to the DENR* office was more than pleasant. Toploading most of the way, we once more reveled in the beauty of our country, one I personally believe matches that of any other place in the world.
After the mandatory briefing at DENR, we got back into the jeepney for our final drive to the Ranger Station, where pretty much everyone who ascends the mountain starts their climb. On the way, we encountered our first bump in the road. One part of the road was pretty muddy, and the jeepney ahead of us was firmly stuck. Since our jeep was the only four-wheel drive vehicle anywhere near the area (and the only four-wheel drive jeepney I've ever heard of), we hopped off while our driver helped the group ahead of us, as well as the next four groups, get through.
I took that short break from the action as an opportunity to shoot something, and at the end of the day I'm glad that it happened because as it turns out, those were the last photos I took during the entirety of the trip.
Street Vendors - Buko Juice
Meet John Lee. It is debatable if that's his full name, or his first name which happens to be a compound name, but that was how he introduced himself. This initially timid man with slightly jaundiced eyes is a street vendor, peddling coconuts (buko in Filipino) along the corner of General Luna Street and Makati Avenue.
He's not your noisy type of vendor, broadcasting presence with a horn or booming voice like the more ambulant ones. John stands unassuming by the street corner, waiting for customers he know will come. His strong piercing eyes foreshadow a confidence brought about by a sense of business savvy not normally expected from one with that office address.
On Our Own Interesting City
Flash forward to about a year later, I'm walking along Makati Avenue headed toward a meeting. I cross Buendia which to me seems like a borderline between two totally different cities. There is a marked difference between the size, style and even nature of the buildings and establishments on either side. Whereas on one side, majestic glass-walled edifices rise, the opposite's are notably stockier and stunted. One is full of corporate offices and shopping centers, the other caters to restaurants, bars and...other entertainment-oriented businesses.
Amen to Seven
"How about Baguio?"
I blinked twice, scarcely able to believe what was being suggested. I was standing on the parking lot of Alabang Town Center at 2:30 on a Saturday morning, my friends Mias and Mario prancing around beside me. We had just left San Mig Pub having what we had planned to be a steady Friday night. The pub closed at 2am, but we weren't done for the night, and were thinking of where we could continue the party.
One of our other friends, JL, was already in Baguio for a weekend getaway. He had promised us a bottle of scotch should we decide to join him up there, thinking (with good reason) that a bottle of scotch wouldn't be worth the 4-6 hour drive to the mountains. Too bad for him, the few pints of beer in our systems were telling us otherwise.
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