My Blog

I thought about high school again, the time when I had this life-size crush on Andre Agassi. I only had two posters back then. One of him holding a tennis racket with his hair, then long and a bit wavy, I think, held back by a sporty head band. The other poster was of Snoopy, which didn’t really make sense because I don’t remember liking Snoopy ever. I like Charlie Brown though, and the crabby girl with an attitude, whose name I can’t recall.

As I was saying, Andre Agassi had long hair in the mid-90s. It’s probably his fault why I’m drawn to guys with long hair, not that I have anything against those sporting a normal haircut (and who’s to say what’s normal anyway? Sheez!). [Commercial: I'm watching a replay of the US Open finals and I just saw Mary Pierce, who has always carried herself like a queen even on the tennis court, picking her nose. Ewww!! But then again, maybe nose-picking is normal in France.].

I’m waiting for the replay of Pacquiao’s match with Velasquez. It was aired this morning, but I totally forgot about it. Tim Burton’s Big Fish was just starting on HBO when my mom heard our neighbors cheering.. and that’s when she remembered the match. I immediately switched to RPN and was lucky enough to catch maybe the last 10 seconds of Round 12. It wasn’t so bad since Pacman won anyway, but I still want to see the whole thing. The match is supposed to be shown again at 9pm, but all I see now is Morales-Raheem fight. At least it gives me another chance to gush over the cute Mexican. Hahah!! Morales and Raheem are on the ninth round, and I’ll be sleeping after the bout if they don’t air Pacquiao’s match.

Anyway, I will probably be blogging more these days now that PLDT has decided to connect me to the rest of the world. My mom had a scary comment/prediction though. She said I’ll probably find another boyfriend now that I have internet access again. God forbid. I don’t think so. Nope. No way.

Good night.

How very much like me to forget the reason why I started on my blog tonight.. or this morning, rather.

The trip to Vigan took only about 5 hours and 30 minutes. That was quite a feat and our driver was in no way apologetic even if we all went flying everytime he hits a bump on the road, or even if we sway 90 degrees each time he makes a turn. Not that I’m complaining. I like fast rides, and the bottomline is that we got there real quick and it was a safe ride.

The trip back was another story. We left Vigan a little after 12, had a break for about an hour for lunch in Candon, Ilocos Sur, and a washroom break somewhere in La Union.  The worst traffic we faced was in Urdaneta in Pangasinan, and somewhere in Tarlac.

The nine-hour trip is perhaps one of the longest ones I’ve taken by land. Sagada took about 15 or 16 hours, but I was asleep most of the time then. After lunch yesterday, I slept in the van for about an hour, and was wide awake until we got to Manila.

The other passengers in the van were asleep so I was left with my own thoughts from around 3 till 9 pm. For that six hours, my mind wandered about investment ideas (as if I had the money to invest), and even I toyed with the thought of putting up a cacao farm. The guy I interviewed last week at the AsiaFood expo made it sound so simple.

I thought about getting a 2,000-square meter land somewhere in Zambales where half would be turned into a farm lot, with all sorts of fruit trees aside from my cacao plants. I have also pictured the house I would build on the other half of the land, sort of like a resthouse for my mom and my lolo.

My thoughts wandered a bit more and reached a point where I realized the nickname "Kiko" actually sounds cute. Now, don’t get me wrong. There is an editor in BW called by that nick. It’s got nothing to do with him.

I really just thought it’s a cute nick. Then I remembered that my first boyfriend’s first name is Francisco (though everyone knows him by his second, James; and I call him Ja-mes, which totally irritated him). So there. I remembered his name, which led to remembering how he looked like. He was actually kinda cute - fair skinned, 5′8, pretty eyes, big smile. None of my friends found him as attractive, but then again, that brought me some sorta relief cz at least I know nobody would steal him away from me. He was also sweet, like, he’d walk with me after school almost everyday, but only up to the street corner. He also tried to call, pretending he’s someone else so my mom won’t suspect anything. I was a sophomore and my mom would have killed me had she known I was going steady with someone, a senior at that, who’s about to break my heart by going away for college. Sheez, what a teeny-bopper telenovela.

The rest of the ride got me really nostalgic that I even thought of how things could have turned out had I accepted him again. I recalled trying to review for a morning exam, just like everyone else, when my classmate handed this piece of paper with his note in it. I can’t exactly remember what’s in it but it was something about getting back together. It was more than a month after we broke up and the whole thing came as a surprise. I thought I was talking to myself but I said, "No way!" just a tad to loud that I attracted some of my seatmates’ attention. I can’t recall ever considering his offer after that. It’s plain crazy and regrets are, as of yesterday, eight years too late.

Vigan is by far the most tame city I have ever been to. Not to mention that the architecture is old but beautiful, like a lady that aged with utmost grace. The atmosphere makes one want to go back in time and live in a period of big and old stone houses, intricate Spanish-inspired dresses and rhythmic calesa rides.

I decided not to stay a day longer, as I had planned last Wednesday. But I know it’s one place that I would definitely want to go back to. And next time, I know better than to bring a huge bag with all the unnecessary stuff in it

I’m leaving for Vigan in two hours. I haven’t had dinner and my one-piece KFC chicken meal, which I should have eaten for lunch, is waiting coldly by my side. I’ve just finished my Muziklaban article and I’m just hanging out in the office wondering where I can take a shower before the PRs haul me in their van for that long trip.

I brought a bag the size of China, which I have filled with so much clothes as if I’m staying in Vigan forever. I tried it on last night and found myself almost toppling whichever way I move because the whole thing is probably thrice my weight. In the end, I [stupidly] decided to leave my [my dear photographer friends, please forgive me for this....] SLR behind. I’ll be off to the old city with my A95 (aargh! digital is evil!) and my lomo (whoopee! it’s practically a reunion!). I hope that would be enough but I know that I would forever regret leaving my SLR behind. 

I hope I end up making friends when I get there as I have decided to take Friday off and go around the area before heading home on Saturday. The rest of the media group will leave Friday morning. Am I scared? Nope. Should I be? I don’t think so. I know I’m going to survive as long as there’s an ATM and a Smart or Sun Cellular cellsite. About meeting friends, that’s more like wishful thinking. Curly said I’m not friendly. I’ve been alone most of my life, and I guess a few more days won’t hurt a bit. How does one make friends anyway? Maybe they taught me in kindergarten but I was never good at paying attention to teachers.

I wonder if I’d make it to Pagudpud. My friend said it’s about three hours from Vigan. That’s like Manila to Subic, and knowing how lazy I am, the distance might just not work for me.  I wonder more if I’d make it back in one piece. I do hope so. I have so many sausages and jars to bring home. Harhar!!