America's Race for the Presidency

I guess I might as well jump in on the bandwagon. Everyone from Tokyo to London, to Africa and from all places that can be reached by the Internet and all forms of media are contributing their two cents worth on the race that is the American Presidential Elections. While Waray in the City maybe thousands of miles away from the center of all the action in Uncle Sam's country, she is well aware that the decisions of whoever gets to sit in that house on Pennsylvania Avenue is sure to affect her dear old Philippines and the rest of the world for that matter. So in the midst of trying to compose a post about a recent trip down Samar country, let me get political and tell you why I 'm for Barack Obama.

Obama is young, he's dynamic and he represents change from the Bush-conomics and war policies that has contributed to America's financial crisis. John McCain is a chip off the old Republican block and not only does he look like the Bush father-and-son tandem but he is sure to to follow their views despite claims to the contrary. Obama may be black (really, just half-Black), however, that does not dictate how well he shall serve as president. Really, I thought we were way past this "color" thing, yet his skin tone remains to be one of the hottest issues raised against him. I've seen him talk and I've seen his record and both are telling me to bet on his horses. Now, let's see if the majority of Americans think the same way. Answers on November 5 or 6. Unlike here, results are immediate and does not last until the next century.

Painting Tips from New Zealand

I got a response from my friend down in New Zealand country on my help please post. He gave me a website to browse through for all my painting needs. Its a fun and interactive site that I'm sure would be of great help to you as it was for me. Happing surfing...

Help Please...

We are in the process of painting our house and I would really, really appreciate some tips on sites to click on to get the perfect color. So, if anyone's watching, do drop me a line on my comments section and tell me where to go.

A Personal Note

A biking contest organized by the group


San Juanico biking

I would like to take this occasion...Now,now, that sounds like the introductory speech for a speaker. Let me do it again...To all the guys who have taken the pain and the time of checking on this blog, I just wanted to let you all know that d hubby's group, the OneWay Bike Club is celebrating its two-year anniversary tomorrow. Eavesdropping on hubby's conversations, I've learned that they will be marking the milestone with a bang, a small bang in a beach somewhere in San Jose. So tomorrow, if suddenly you miss them in their usual haunt right by Magsaysay Bouevard after a morning's biking, you know why.

From here the wifey of a true-blue and fanatic member who have come to accept that most Saturday mornings have been permanently robbed of quality family time (joke, joke, joke, am not being sarcastic, really, d hubby's good health and waistline has been worth it), happy anniversary! May your tribe increase and your pedaling legs stronger.


Embracing a worthy cause, ahem...

(photos courtesy of M.N.A.)

Gerry's Grill now in Tacloban

I got my first taste of Gerry's Grill's smoking menu back in 2001 at the original Tomas Morato branch, a stone's throw away from the ABS-CBN compound, when I was in the middle of my struggles to have a door-opening prefix and all the privileges it entails attached to my name. It was a time of stretched budgets and an an even more stretched schedule of cramming everything I have learned in four years in a five-month time frame.

Going to Gerry's then was a treat my board mates and I gave ourselves after a grueling week of review with our minds demanding a rest from all that legal gobblydegook that was starting to sound like a foreign language. So before any of us suffered a total mental meltdown (of course I exaggerate, no four-letter prefix is worth a visit to the sanitarium, with due apologies for those whose emotional make-up just couldn't take the wringer that is the B__), we decided to give our brains a rest and our mouths and stomachs a respite from the fare at "Lutong Bahay"(that small carenderia in UP Diliman that has customers eating as if they're in an assembly line). The group unanimously chose the restaurant owing to a tidbit we got that its the frequent haunt of ABS-CBN stars, thus, the best place for star-gazing for us probinsyanas. While there were a few howls of protests, the idea of bumping into Jericho Rosales overrode all objections to Gerry's being a bit pricey for our shoestring budgets .


The bar at Gerry's Grill Tacloban branch

Well, we were not disappointed as the guy himself was seated just a few tables from us looking even more cuter than he was on tv. No, of course we didn't fall all over ourselves getting his autograph. We acted like everyone else in the restaurant, real cool, pretending like we didn't know an artista was in our midst, with a few surreptious side glances when we thought knowing was looking. But pretenses aside, the food was great and the sizzling sisig we ordered was worth the dent it made on our relatively shallow pockets then.

So it was with much anticipation that I awaited the opening of this cool grilled place in Tacloban once I got wind of news that a local businessman had gotten a franchise. My friend and I went for dinner on a Wednesday weeks after its soft opening. As if wanting to dash too-high exepctations for a dining place that carried a nationally-known name, notices that went: "this is just our soft-opening, please bear with us as we are still on dry-run" or words to that effect was plastered on all its air-conditioners prompting me to be as gentle as possible in making this post-cum-wannabe restaurant review. Doing so required me to hold my punches, so to speak, on things that didn't quite satisfy me as far as what I would expect a fine-dining haunt should be. Having said that, let me then talk about the good points.

The staff are ever so friendly, smiling and at your beck and call at the snap of a finger. The interiors are well done and in keeping with all Gerry's Grill branches, has a stone and mortar look dominated by the colors orange and red. The comfort rooms are clean and supplied with all the necessary toilet room needs (e.g. toilet paper, hand santizing liquid, air fresheners, etc.). As for the food, all items were reasonably-priced which came as a surprise considering that the place was a franchise. We tried the chopsuey and the sizzling sisig, a star item as far as the Tomas Morato branch was concerned. Well, the fare did not have us singing endless allleluias but it was not so bad either. The vegetables in the chopsuey was cooked just right and the serving was hefty enough for three people to share. It was good enough for, yes, a dry run but still has a lot of catching up to do in order to come at par with its Manila cousin.

The Tomas Morato Gerry's had that hard to define "f" (f as in foodie) factor that makes you want to return and savor more of its food again, and yet again. Up to now when the many choices of places to eat in Manila confounds me, Gerry's is the dependable resto I go to and I never come away disappointed. I actually have a theory of why what works and what makes a foodie haunt click. Taken from a voracious eater's point of view of course and not a chef or cook. Ask my hubby and he will tell you just how good I am in the kitchen, (hahaha, if you have a taste for roasted, a.k.a. burnt, adobo cooked ala carte style). You see, I totally agree that cooking is an art and just like any art takes passion and skill to make one excel at it. You may have everything right, the exact amount of ingredients, fresh and picked straight from the garden, cooking temperatures followed to the letter and a place with an ambiance thats not gonna send Erap saying: "Ambiance, thats very expensive, i haven't ordered any ambiance" yet if the cooking does not come from the heart, it will eventually show and patrons can always tell the subtle difference.

What's my point? The food in GG Tacloban was more than passable but lacked the zing that makes for one unforgettable dining experience. But lets give it time, there's always room for improvement and for the baby that it still is, Gerry's in Tacloban has enough time to find that zing and its heart, foodie heart that is. Last time I checked the place was still on "dry-run" mode and hopefully is in the process of improving its menu. Maybe by the time we come back, Gerry's Grill Tacloban shall have lived up to its name.

waray in the city gets published

As I've said in my other personal blog, the first is always something and it applies to everything, including getting an editor's nod for your article. You see, last night while I was buying my groceries at the local 24/7 shop, I decided to check this month's issue of the magazine to which I submitted a very short piece of mine, its not much, just your average everday musing. I browsed through it and and saw in quite large print my whole name staring back at me in one of the pages. It's not a lengthy article but seeing your byline on a national glossy for the first time drew a quite heady reaction, at least for me (last time I got a written work published, if you call it that, was way back in highschool, when my feature on graffiti got all of a one- fourth's page space in the school paper). My sister who has had her poems published before was quite amused at my really giddy reaction but I say: be it a few paragraphs, one page or ten pages, the first publication of whatever you have written is a cause for celebration. Someone, somewhere who's supposed to be the expert on this magazine thing, decides that your thoughts are worth printing and sharing to their thousands of readers. Of course, the money that you get paid for submitting the article is a much-welcome bonus (Okay, I'll be honest, the moolah was one of the reasons why I sent the piece in the first place). So indulge me dear readers just this once and take my giddiness with a touch of "gee-she's so excited-she-got-published-I understand totally-cause it's her first time" reaction. Gloating, is not my thing really, but then again, its the no. 1 homestyle magazine in the country (wink,wink, wink).

By the way, I won't be telling you where to look cause I still want to maintain my anonymity, but for those who have an eensi weensie idea already of who I am though they are not really sure, the article is the direct evidence that establishes conclusively my identity (hehehe).

A Sala Set on Wheels

Onli in Da Philippines. A catch phrase that applies to many things uniquely Pinoy. Sometimes it's positive, sometimes its on the other end, but most often than not, the words imply a humorous twist on an otherwise ordinary of way of life for the lowly Filipino who tries to keep his head high while keeping his mind, body and pockets above water in the most trying of times. Stated otherwise, onli in da Philippines is the Pinoy's penchant to make do out of a bad situation in his most innovative way.

Take for instance the "sala" set on wheels. As early back as my grade school years, the jeepneys plying out-of-town routes here in Leyte and even in Samar, have those little benches in between seats, all the better to maximize its capacity never mind if its not allowed under our laws. When the barker can no longer say, "Pito-pito han ito, lima pala an sakay didda" (The seats are good for seven, only five so far, still two places left) deftly ignoring that the seven meant seven people of normal sizes, the five includes three obese ones, and that for two to squeeze in they must be of the extremely malnourished types, then out come the little benches for more passengers. The eensie weenie discomforts of public commute, yet one has to sympathize with the jeepney drivers, out of every liter of gasoline, every peso must be squeezed and packing them in even as tightly as sardines is the only answer. I would want to include here a picture of such a jeepney but I'm not ready yet for the curious stares I'm likely to get should I take one during one of my public rides. Hmmm, perhaps I can bribe the hubby with an "in house second honeymoon" (hehehe) for him to take the shot...Fat chance.

The Accidental Mountaineer - My Mt. Danglay Misadventures

I say "Fear Factor" pales in comparison to what I foolishly did half a lifetime ago. I went mountain climbing, me who has had a fear of height since as far back as I can remember. Well, its not really a mountain, but they call it Mt. Danglay for reasons unknown. You can view it from the port in the city, its peak jutting out amongst shorter cousins and is part of Basey, Samar. Its actually a semi, since its more than a hill. Anyway, mountaineering was all the rage then and I still needed some Physical Education units so I signed myself up to an Outdoor-sort of class in the State University's branch here in Tacloban. An option during the class was to go on a real climb somewhere out of town and the place picked was a Mount_____ (name escapes me now) somewhere in Negros Oriental (or is it Occidental?). It wasn't mandatory considering the risk and expenses involved but not knowing what a real climb entailed, I counted myself in. Before we went on the scheduled climb, the group who decided to join went on a practice climb on Mt. Danglay. Guess who was with them? Yap, I was. There were ten of us including our Business Management Professor who was an enthusiast (he once joined a cigarette brand challenge in the United States).

We set off for Danglay early morning by banca (the local canoe) since the San Juanico Bridge was then in a state of repair. We arrived at the foot of the wannabe mountain after a short walk from shore where we embarked. Up we then went carrying with us all the equipment we would need: ropes, lunchboxes and a stick that we used to latch on the ground in order to steady ourselves. We actually had so much fun, the gang being a merry mix of jokers and comedians. Everything went fine for me, no matter how hard, including thrashing and cutting wild grass as we made our own trail to the summit. I was not so conscious then of high we were going up as the initial part of the climb is not that vertical and the grass camouflaged the drop below. Halfway through the top, we stopped for some lunch and had a short rest. I do remember laughing all the time , that's how funny and outgoing my climbmates were. Nothing indicated the fact that soon I would become the punchline once the climb was over. I can smile about it now, but back then, I was so pikon (piqued) hearing the jokes that I even stopped talking to them for almost a semester. But that's me, kinda sensitive at times but mellowed now a bit by the years.

So your wondering now what happened in that climb more than a decade ago? Guess my fear of heights caught up with me and the mountain suddenly took a 90 degree vertical turn. Nearing the summit, we came upon a sheer face of rock that was virtually 90 degrees from where we stood. Almost like a wall. We had to scale it to get to the top, there was no other way. Believe me, if there was I would have found it, I was that desperate not to have to climb that sheer rock. I was third from the last to go, all the girls were already up there, it was just me and our professor left and another classmate. When it was turn, I really panicked, as in the works, I froze and my fingers refused to tug myself up the rope (they called it rappel). What really got it in for me was I cried for my mama, literally. Yup, there i was, dangling in a rope, on a mountain in Samar, just a year short of my twentieth birthday, and bawling myself out. I said, no, I just couldn't do it. Eventually our enterprising professor found a way to get me up there, what that was, i'd rather keep private. Unfortunately for me, the rest of my climbmates were not of the same mindset. They found it worthwhile to tell the rest of the class back in the low and flat land of what happened and for a time I couldn't hear enough of it during classes. Anyhow, soon we got to the peak, and for all our efforts (including my unwilling comedic act), we stayed a mere five minutes. The trip downhill was a lot easier as it was on the other side, and, no, I didn't anymore slip to any crying fits.

Looking back, I said to myself, what actually got into me that I agreed to go on that climb? Facing my fears? Yah, right, like telling a claustrophobe to go try putting himself inside a coffin.
Nonetheless, for all its worth, the experience was still worth it, and despite the punchlines, am quite mighty proud of having done it.