People of the Philippines v. Malu Fernandez (In re: The People Asia Article)

AN OPEN LETTER TO MISS MALU FERNANDEZ


Dear Ms. Malu Fernandez,

I was waiting in my dentist's receiving room a few months ago when I read your article in the June 2007 issue of People Asia. I remember feeling incensed by the way you denigrated your fellow Filipinos and the pompous way you name-dropped Malone, Vuitton, the places you've been to and the *more* famous people with whom you hobnob. However, I was alone at that time and thought it would be inappropriate to direct my indignation to the unsuspecting receptionist in front of me.

I have completely forgotten about it until today, when I read my friend's blog entry about your article. It was only then that I read the wealth of literature written about you and your article, and realized how much it has rocked the blogosphere and the massive campaign that had since been launched seeking for your firing or resignation (in a parallel universe, I'd probably even applaud the impact you've created).

What I say here may never reach your expensive computer screen (my blog's no People Asia after all), but I will say it anyway, to add fuel to the already raging inferno borne of the outrage over your... existence.

Following her recollections of her trip to Boracay and Greece, Malu Fernandez goes on to write this about her layover in UAE (the whole article is at the bottom of this blog):

"However I forgot that the hub was in Dubai and the majority of the OFWs (overseas Filipino workers) were stationed there. The duty-free shop was overrun with Filipino workers selling cell phones and perfume. Meanwhile, I wanted to slash my wrist at the thought of being trapped in a plane with all of them. Of course, everyone in the economy class was yelled at for having overweight hand-carries. Mine was 17kg (ssshhhh!!!)."

"While I was on the plane (where the seats were so small I had bruises on my legs), my only consolation was the entertainment on the small flat screen in front of me. But it was busted, so I heaved a sigh, popped my sleeping pills and dozed off to the sounds of gum chewing and endless yelling of “HOY! Kumusta ka na? At taga san ka? Domestic helper ka rin ba?” Translation: “Hey there? Where are you from? Are you a domestic helper as well?” I thought I had died and God had sent me to my very own private hell."

"On my way back, I had to bravely take the economy flight once more. This time I had already resigned myself to being trapped like a sardine in a sardine can with all these OFWs smelling of AXE and Charlie cologne while Jo Malone evaporated into thin air."

Many people have called you a bigot, accused you of being insensitive, elitist... even a pig (and most of them were quite literal with the last).

If I were one of your unfortunate friends, I probably would've advised you to pack up and fly back to Greece, wait it out, then come back when the dust has cleared. You see, this could have easily have blown over had it not been for your callous response:

"As I type this, I’d like you to know that it’s not about whining, complaining and bitching but just stating the facts. Just recently, I wrote a funny article in my magazine column and my friends thought it was hilarious. It was humorous and quite tongue-in-cheek, or at least I thought so, until the magazine got a few e-mails from people who didn’t get the meaning of my acerbic wit. The bottom line was just that I had offended the reader’s socioeconomic background. If any of these people actually read anything thicker then a magazine they would find it very funny. Most people don’t get the fact that they need bitches like me to shake up their world, otherwise their lives would be boring and mediocre."

"Although it may sound elitist to you the fact is this country is built on the foundation of haves, have-nots and wannabes. One group will never get the culture of the other. Although I could mention that it is easier to understand someone who has a lower socioeconomic background that would entail a whole other page and frankly I don’t want to be someone to bridge the gap between socioeconomic classes. I leave that to the politicians in my family who believe they can actually help. Now I seriously ask you, am I being a diva or are people around me just lacking in common sense? Perhaps it’s a little of both!"

You seriously ask us if you're just being a diva or if we are simply lacking in common sense. Allow me to find an answer by being explaining why I was particularly offended by your writing.

I thought it was mighty arrogant of you to disparage the OFWs in that flight simply because they were behaving opposed to how you would, or because they reeked of cheap perfumes. The way you doggedly pointed out their nationalities, you clearly wanted to dissociate yourself from them because they were Filipinos, yet in the same paragraph, you unwittingly state the obvious. That you are, alas, no different from them. A Filipino who fly coach and a transgressor of International Civil Aviation carry-on luggage policies.

"Of course, everyone in the economy class was for having overweight hand carries. Mine was 17kg."

And no, the parenthetical "ssshhhh!!!" does not make it cute.

***

Let me just say that I'd probably be the first to cringe when made witness to a fellow Filipino making an ass of him- or herself. I even admit to being embarrassed by the same airline behavior you, Miss Fernandez, had proudly written about.

There's a gazillion of things we Filipinos should not be proud of, a gazillion things more we should change in ourselves. I admit to that, and I'd even gladly engage in a debate on how that can and must be done. But surely you can tell this wouldn't be the proper context for that?

Perhaps what sets you apart from me and the other Filipinos you have angered is that we will never blatantly look down on our kabayan. You, however, denounce your own for no better reason than raising their voices in an airplane, getting excited about going home, and not having enough money to afford the scent you wear.

I may, at times, be embarrassed by what they do, but I will never be ashamed of who they are. For I, too, am Filipino. To deny them is to deny myself.

If only by virtue of our shared nationality, you will never see me writing about that kind of experience and having it published for the world to see in a vain attempt to elicit cheap laughs, aggrandize my image and affirm my social status. As one blogger points out,

There is a line between being hilariously offensive, and being just offensive, and it’s not a thin one. We know it for what it is, and we know it’s best to keep such thoughts to ourselves or shared only with others of similar disposition. It’s called tact.

Tact. On tact vis-á-vis humor, you might learn a little something from Jessica Zafra.

***

When you reacted to the emails your magazine has received, let me correct your thinking that your readers simply didn't get your "acerbic wit." The fact that your friends laugh and appreciate the condemned parts of your article does not mean our sense of humor is amiss. To us, it simply means those friends of yours are as mean-spirited and insensitive as the writer. And if you need us to legitimize our standing to give an opinion, let me say then that many of us do read those sheets of paper bound together in the spine and sandwiched by hard backs. (What are they again? Books! They're thicker than magazines, right?)

Furthermore, in case you can't do the math, the countless emails and blog entries reacting to your article translates to the countless people who have taken offense. I hope that makes it clear that we don't need a bitch like you (bitch! finally, something we agree on!) to shake up our world. If it is wit and humor we crave, we will find it in people who can do it with taste, and the humility to boot.

You, on the other hand, should take a refresher course on journalism.

If you insist that your wit is an acquired taste exclusive only to those who belong to your niche, might I suggest, then, that the next time you write something that may be construed as unpalatable, consider instead writing a newsletter with exclusive circulation to those who share your celebrated humor. And don't delude yourself into thinking everyone who belongs in your stratum, the "haves," think the way you do. I have met a few of them and thankfully, they're not all like you and your friends. I noticed that the only ones who brandish their lifestyle and write in the self-important manner as you have done in your article are those who are insecure of their status as the "haves." In your own words, the "wannabes."

Finally, in the same manner you expect us to accept your short-sighted defense, we also expect you to just recognize the new lows to which you have sunk in our bourgeois and peasant eyes. Do not think you can just brush off your readers' opinions. You see, for us, it's not as simple as putting down the magazine either. Readers pay for the whole magazine, and your inclusion as a columnist is not something we can avoid. As much as we'd like to ban you from writing, the power is not ours. It's your editors' and employers' (hint, hint!). Ranting and throwing rotten tomatoes your way is our only recourse. (Maybe we should try the latter?)

Now if you can't take the heat of your own undoing, you should think twice about getting published. You see, that, too, is what journalism is about. Responsibility and accountability.

I hope all that proves that we don't lack common sense. That's not to say that you're just being a diva though. Divas, at least, have something to show for it apart from their wealth. Simply put, what it makes you is rude.

We get it, Miss Fernandez. You're the one who doesn't.

To those who just read my letter, be fair to Miss Malu Fernandez.
Read the article yourself. (Click on it to see the larger picture):

20.07.2007

As the SIF-ASEAN Student Fellowship I attended in 2002 came to an end, the Fellows agreed on a pact to meet again in Singapore five years after. The date, 20th July 2007. In short: 20.07.2007.

At first, I thought it wasn't a very good idea to have a reunion that soon. I reasoned some of us may still be studying then, or just finished college and are just starting to work. I thought it might be better to wait for our 10th year. That way, we'd all be established in our respective careers and better disposed to covering the expenses for the reunion. But it had already been agreed upon, so I shut up and just looked forward to that fateful day.

About a year ago, my Kabayans and I thought of jump starting the preparation for the reunion. We wanted to make sure more people can go, so we thought of ways to maybe market money and subsidize the lodging and transportation costs. However, most of us were busy with our jobs and whatever plans we eventually fell through.

Early this year, the Fellows started talking about the upcoming reunion. Talks of holding the reunion in Genting Highlands in Malaysia, but we eventually decided on holding it in Singapore. Always, the priority being making it convenient for the most number of people.

I was so excited. There were even requests from some of the Fellows for me to bring the old video that I made so we can view it again in the reunion. While burning a DVD copy of that video, I thought, why not make another one? I had more than 10 hours worth of footage from the Fellowship. Surely, there were lots of clips they haven't seen that they'd love to see. I kept putting it off because I was busy with work, and by the time I gathered the old tapes from the Fellowship so I can at long last start editing a new video, I only had a week left before the reunion.

Previewing the tapes took most time. I salvaged around six tapes, around 8 hours worth. Going through that wouldn't normally take that long since I can breeze through it by speeding the playback. But when you're reviewing footage that contained precious memories, you can't help but sit back and watch. Countless times, I laughed myself silly watching and reminiscing those days. Memories that have taken refuge at the back end of my mind suddenly came rushing to fore.

Two days before my flight to Singapore, I started editing this music video. I wanted it to be a fitting tribute to the 5th anniversary and first official reunion of the SIF-ASEAN Student Fellowship Batch 2002. Back then, I had all the time in the world to make sure that the "Seasons of Love" music video I was preparing came out exactly as I intended it to be. I was able to make sure all the important events that were caught on tape edited into the final cut. I made sure all the Fellows had a few seconds of exposure. With only two days left, I just didn't have that same luxury anymore. I worked for two days, rushing to make sure I made it to the reunion. I finished at 5.30AM on July 21, and I had to dash to the airport by 6AM if I were to make my 8AM flight (I got to the airport at 6.30AM, almost didn't make it!).

When I got to Singapore, the Fellows were engaged in the Singapore Heritage Race, fashioned after the Amazing Race. Some of the Fellows arrived earlier than the agreed upon date, and have had their fill of Singapore. I didn't want to go to Su Lynn's house (our generous Singaporean host) by myself, so I decided to do my shopping at Orchard. I went to the spots I frequented back when I was still studying in the Lion Cit: Kinokuniya, Borders, Raffles City, Citylink Mall.

It was already evening when I finally met up with the Fellows. I got to Vivo City (the spanking new mall at Habour Front) a little past 9PM. I felt a little nervous as I walked toward the restaurant... I didn't know what to expect. When entered Marcher, I was awashed with delight to see so many Fellows in one place, and so many whom I haven't seen for a very long time. Duong (who came with his girlfriend, Phuong), Lum, Cynthia, Vippy, Danny, Joel, Ivy, Man, Ben, Hang, OPS, Jeffrey, Dat, Su Lynn, and my Kabayans, Duke, Richard, Kenneth and Natz. Of course, Gerald was reliably there to shepherd his erstwhile flock, all of us now older though not necessarily grown up ;) The very pregnant Claudia arrived a few moments later with her husband and our adopted batchmate Kevin.

I had so much fun catching up and goofing around with the Fellows. The faux-marketplace theme of Marcher added to the festive atmosphere. One might think it wasn't much of a reunion considering we didn't even reach half of our batch's total number, but gathering 22 people at one place is no mean feat. And having that many number of people sitting together to honor and commemorate an experience that we all hold dearly in our hearts is just overwhelming. Euphoric.

We went to Fong Seng, one of our former hang outs during our Fellowship days located at the outskirts of NUH. We continued to exchange updates over roti prata and teh tarik. We relayed news about our other Kabayans who couldn't make it, learned who among them just recently tied the knot, became parents or are expecting, relocated, and graduated. What they're doing and how fat their paychecks are now. We also exchanging contact details. Riza joined us at Fong Seng, bringing our number to 23.

After long drawn goodbyes to those who had to go home because of other obligations (Joel, Kevin, Claudia, and Vippy had to go home, Cynthia had an early flight the following morning), we went to Su Lynn's house. We nestled in the basement and feasted on the snacks we brought from our respective countries. Someone took out a bottle of vodka, but no one seemed brave enough to initiate the drinking. It seemed like only a few of us were genuinely excited about the vodka.

They clamored for the long awaited viewing of the Seasons of Love video. Riza preempted my surprise a bit when he asked if I was showing a new one. We set up the laptop and waxed nostalgic as we watch that old video projected onto the expansive white wall of Su Lynn's basement. It's like viewing it again for the first time the way everyone laughed and cheered as familiar clips were played.

Then, I took out the other DVD I brought and played the video I recently edited, the one I almost didn't finish in time. Unlike the previous one, we watched this new video more solemnly. Perhaps it was because it was fresh to them, because of the new clips I included in it. Or maybe it was because it included clips of our parting, footage of fellows crying as we said our goodbyes five years ago. I've always loved the song "Your Home Is In My Heart" by Boyz II Men, from the soundtrack of the movie "How Stella Got Her Groove Back." Over the years, I never got the chance to make use of it. I finally did with this new video.

I relished the irony of being in Singapore, reunited five years after, huddled as we watched our younger selves crying, waving our hands as we bade farewell and depressed at the probability of never seeing each other again. It's like we were spitting on the notion of goodbye.

Warmed up, we finally mustered enough courage to tipple the vodka. After offering Gerald the ceremonial first sip, we started passing around the shot glass. At first, it was just OPS, Man, Kenneth, Lum, Dat, Duke and Richard who were game. Due to our insistence, we eventually managed to bring most of the others into the circle. Dat intiated drinking games which we initially thought too corny but went along with anyway. We finished the entire first bottle before long.

Late in the evening, we succeeded in bringing everyone in our drinking games. Su Lynn generously offered us another bottle of vodka from her father's bar. She also brought left over chicken to add to the the junk we've been feasting on. We had a blast! Especially when Dat kept losing most rounds of the games he's supposed to be the master of :) Even Riza whose religion disallowed him from downing the penalty vodka shot (he drank water intead, though he still seemed drunker than most by the time we finished). Duong fell asleep early in the game, clearly unused to the drinking. Others who we were initially reluctant were unable to resist our prodding. Even Duke who was scheduled to fly out in a few hours got wasted a bit more than he intended.

We were all drunk or tipsy when we finally retired. We took our places on Su Lynn's vodka stained carpet (sorry again, Su Lynn) and started snoring.

When I woke up the next day, we had gathered at the poolside to chat. As they took orders for their lunch, I said a temporary goodbye to head off to Orchard and change since I didn't have time to bring extra clothes the previous night. After a quick shower, however, I dozed off and woke up late in the afternoon. I learned that most of the Fellows have left by then. And that was that, an abrupt end to a surprisingly wild but sentimental weekend.

This is a new, re-edited cut of the video, with some footage that were not included in the version I premiered during the reunion drinking session. Five months in Singapore summed up in a five-minute song to celebrate five years of friendship.



The footage may be rusty and dated, but the sentiments remain as fresh as ever.

Now looking forward to our revitalized pact to meet again in three years: 20th October 2010. In short...

Fire And Rain: The Weekend I Flew To Bohol

When I missed my scheduled flight to Tagbilaran last Holy Week, I made a vow that I will make it to Bohol within the year. I’ve been meaning to go back for so long. After all, the last time I was there was in 1997. My mom treated me and my two high school best friends, Ronald and Jayson, to a trip to Cebu. We stayed at the Plantation Bay Hotel in Mactan Island, though the primary agenda of that trip was for me to see this small beach front property my mom bought the previous year (which she eventually sold).

It was very memorable as it was my first time to fly with friends, my first time to go on vacation with friends outside Luzon. We had a blast exploring Cebu (we saw the Magellan Cross, Fort San Pedro, and went to this spot overlooking the Queen City), and Bohol (we saw a cave and made a quick trip to, where else, the Chocolate Hills).

Bohol had since developed into the major tourist destination that it is now. The Chocolate Hills had always been a draw, but after the Bohol Beach Club opened, its popularity was bolstered, consequently reintroducing the island as a beach destination rivaling Boracay and Cebu. Soon after, it also started gaining reputation as a premiere dive spot.

I finally got my wish to revisit Bohol last month, when I accompanied my friend Jean on her birthday vacation. We went with her friends Cris and Poch who, like her, have recently taken up diving as a sport and were raring to see the bounty of Bohol’s marine life. Before going there, I checked out Laida's pictures and took note of the places she went to. Particularly, the Bohol Bee Farm. Skeeter also told me to make sure I ate at the place.

Jean, Poch and I arrived in Tagbilaran on July 14, a little before lunch. This was after our flight was delayed for three hours. Normally, I wouldn’t have any problem sleeping on the uncomfortable seats of the old domestic airport’s waiting area. I am, after all, particularly talented in sleeping anywhere. Seeing, however, that the airport was heaving with vacationers that Saturday, I decided to read instead.

Since I didn’t sleep the night before, as common to most of my travels, I was just about ready to expire when we arrived at the Dumaluan Beach Resort a little before noon. We blew off the couple of hours of waiting by playing cards and having lunch (overpriced and remarkably insipid). When we were finally allowed into our rooms, I settled in by catching up on sleep.

The sun was gone when Jean woke me up. I joined them at Dumaluan’s in-house restaurant where Poch and Cris, who arrived from Cebu in the afternoon, were waiting. After dining on grilled food, Cris and Poch had a few rounds of beer while Jean and I had coffee at the Bohol Beach Club. When we got back to the resort, Cris and Poch had gone to bed. Jean, too, was tired so she left me alone with my book at the resort's reception area and hit the sack.

It was close to midnight when I finished reading. I was still bubbling with energy, so I decided to check out the party at the rooftop. It seemed exclusive so I turned to go back when this group of friendly manongs called out to me and asked me to take a shot of the alcohol they were drinking. I gladly obliged. Soon, I was part of their circle, drinking more of the bahalina, which, mixed with Coke, comes off as a dark-colored version of lambanog (coconut wine) more akin to red wine or vinegar, as lambanog is to vodka. I was drawn into a spirited exchange. I with anecdotes on writing movies, they with their politics, the Sandugo Festival, and the famous Boholanos in show business.

Suddenly, a group of Koreans staying at the Bohol Beach Club started screaming. We looked toward the direction they were pointing and saw the nipa roof of the Bohol Beach Club Clubhouse in flames. My newfound friends scrambled to rouse the resort's guards from sleep. I ran toward the clubhouse to see how I could help.

Some of the resort's employees had started hand-shoveling sand to the burning roof. I told them to look for fire extinguishers, realizing that none of them thought of that first. When they found them, they were all reluctant to use it, as if taking it from its encasement was sacrilegious enough. One of the manongs I was drinking with (forgive me, I forget their names) climbed on to the wall and made use of the extinguisher.

The fire was growing bigger. While the fire extinguisher helped quell some of it, the gust of wind that came with the discharge also spread the fire all over the highly flammable nipa roof. I was looking for more extinguishers when I saw the fire hose at the back. I opened it and asked one of the employees to take the hose all the way to the side nearest to the burning roof. When I turned the valve, it had no supply of water. I noticed that the pool was just a few meters away, so I told them to fetch pails and draw water from the pool. Someone took heed and got a chafing dish from the clubhouse's buffet table. The others followed suit and started fetching water from the pool, using all sorts of improvised containers, and splashing water on the nipa roof.

It still wasn’t helping. I asked if they've contacted the fire department. They said that the one in Panglao has been dispatched. I used my mobile to call 117. I was afraid the operator would hang up on me considering our emergency wasn’t in Manila, but he accommodated the call and asked for details. After I hung up, he even called me again to confirm that they've contacted other fire departments, including the one from Tagbilaran. I also texted Adrian Ayalin and Anna Puod, my friends from ABS-CBN News. Puod responded and vehemently asked me to stay at the beach where I'd be near the water. She said she's covered so many stories involving fires and people who tried to go back in and got trapped inside.

Then a truck with a water tank mounted on its back came rushing in from the beach club’s side entrance. We were relieved. Curiously, though, it continued toward the beach in an apparent road rage. I thought, perhaps they needed to siphon water from the beach. A few meters before plunging to the ocean, it got stuck on the dry edge of the sandy shore. When we asked the driver that was all about, we found out that the truck’s brakes failed. Stuck, we left the truck full of water by the beach, too far from the clubhouse to render any kind of help.

Finally, the fire trucks arrived. They hosed the burning roof down but the fire was already out of control. The ceiling beams started glowing red, threatening to give out. Two resort employees decided to break into the kitchen where the fire seemed to have started. He started dragging out the huge gas tanks inside. I told them to let the firemen take care of it, that the kitchen might cave in and trap them inside, but they were stubborn. Either that or they didn’t understand my Tagalog. Since they wouldn’t listen to reason, I told them to at least cover their mouths and noses with damp cloth lest they pass out inside the burning kitchen. They continued collecting the huge gas tanks. I knew it was stupid to go in with them, so I decided to wait by the kitchen door and dragged the tanks they've collected further away to a safer area, hoping to hasten the process as they proceeded to saving the other tanks.

This went on for a few more hours. The firemen contained the blaze though much damage had already been done.

What I found most curious is that the firemen let those employees risk their lives by going into the kitchen when they should be taking charge of the whole situation. One of them even approached me and asked if all the tanks had been saved (to which I answered yes, since at that time, the two valiant employees had hauled off all the gas tanks from the kitchen). Thankfully, there weren't any casualties. And good thing Jean and I had the chance to lounge around the clubhouse before it was rendered unusable by the inferno.









Having had enough adventure to last me a week, I decided to skip the scheduled trip to Balicasag, an island off Panglao. Jean, Cris and Poch went scuba diving morning 'til afternoon. When I woke up, they were preparing to go Tagbilaran to grant my request to go to Mass. We went to the Cathedral in front of the Bohol Capitol. Though I didn't understand a word of the ceremony, I thought it was a refreshing experience. I always enjoy hearing mass in local dialects (I've also heard it in Bicol and Cuyunon).

We had dinner at a grill restaurant and a night cap at Bo's Coffee, still near the capitol. We then rented a small jeep that took us back to the resort.

It was Jean's birthday the next day, Monday, July 16. We woke up really early so we could finish our sweep of the customary tourist sights in Bohol.

After a quick breakfast at Jollibee in Tagbilaran, we headed to Carmen to see the Chocolate Hills. It hasn't changed since the last time I saw it, so it wasn't that cool for me as it was for my travel buddies. I was, however, amused by the recent innovation at the viewing deck. There were photographers stationed there, hawking their services and printing photos for the exorbitant amount of PhP50 per 4R photo. We had our own cameras of course, but what amused me was that they were so adept in taking a particular kind of photo. Try hard as we might, we just couldn't get it right. We ended up asking the photographer to take our pictures. This is how mine came out:

The weekend I flew to Bohol to see the Chocolate Hills.

Soon as we got out of the viewing compound in Carmen, it started raining hard. We passed by the beautiful man-made forest shared by the towns Carmen and Bilar. We pulled over to take a quick picture with the beautiful mahoganies, then went on our way. We stopped by Carmen to see a hanging bridge suspended over the Loboc River, but decided to keep dry in our rented SUV and go straight to Loboc for lunch.

It was still raining when we hopped on the floating restaurant at the Loboc River. But instead of ruining our cruise upstream, the rain actually enhanced our experience at the beautiful, historic river. The view seemed more raw, more virginal. It was, to me, the best thing about Bohol.


There was an old man playing folk songs on the boat. The food was nothing to rave about, but then the food was really just an excuse to ride the boat. On our way upstream, we would pass by some kids playing by the riverbanks. Some of them would even jump from coconut trees or swing from a vine and free fall into the river, much like the WOW Philippines commercial that featured Regine Velasquez and those animated postcards. Some of these kids would even swim toward, our under our boat. Some went on board at the side. Without being asked, the tourists handed out food to the kids.

Our upstream cruise ends at the base of the rapids, where a rondalla-like band composed of adolescent Boholanos welcomed us by playing novelty songs, complete with dance numbers pa! The tourists took turns taking pictures with them and donating different amounts of money to their can. It was such an uplifting experience that on our way back, the tourists on our boat were all in a genial mood, waving to other tourists on board the oncoming floating restaurants.

After the Loboc River cruise, we bought a few souvenirs and stopped by a shop that had tarsiers in its backyard. We had our photos taken. We were particularly careful not to scare the tarsier with our cameras' flashes. I voiced out my desire to have a photo with the tarsier on my shoulder. To my surprise, the shop's owner took the tarsier and asked me to walk a little further away from the plant it was previously perched on. She put the little guy on my shoulder. I realized she asked me to walk away so I that it wouldn't jump back to its home. I asked if I could have another picture with the tarsier, and she generously granted my request. And I thought they were protective of their primate ambassadors. Here's that last photo:


After that, we made a few quick stops to two churches, the Loboc Church and the Baclayon Church in Tagbilaran, the second oldest church in the Philippines and the oldest one made of coral. We passed by one last souvenir shop and had our photos taken at the monument at Tagbilaran commemorating the blood compact between Datu Sikatuna and Miguel López de Legazpi.

We intended to have dinner at the Bohol Bee Farm that evening, but I was exhausted by our lightning tour of Bohol. My quick nap lasted till midnight, while Jean, Cris and Poch spent the rest of the day playing cards. We left early Tuesday morning, July 17. It was a really fun trip, with just the right amount contrast, an ample mix of fun, culture, and surprise.

But I'll have to go back again. I've yet to go dine at the Bee Farm. And as proven by my last trip there, Bohol will always be worth another visit :)

Simpsonized!

I've always loved "The Simpsons." Its irreverence, its wit, everything! It's one of the few shows that never gets old. To me, at least. Just like "Friends" (as opposed to "Seinfeld" and "Sex and the City," both of which I enjoy watching as well).

I just watched the movie last night. I loved it, but also thought it could've been better.

This, on the other hand, is me getting Simpsonized!...




I know it doesn't look a lot like me. And that I cheated by putting on sunglasses.

This one may be closer. As a disclaimer, let me just say that it's really hard to be realistic with this when you're the one making your own avatar. It's tough choosing which eyes or hair best looks like yours. I can't tell if I'm really being accurate, or if I'm actually trying to improve my 2D version, haha!

This is the best I came up with --->