baptism by fog

what: baguio or bust.
where: uh, baguio?
when: 26 - 28 may, 2007
who: layla (financier) & jai (freeloader)

please allow me to begin this chronicle by telling you how pissed off disappointed i am about my last salary. i worked my ass off through hours beyond my designated shift (well, okay, not as much as others did but it is still darn overtime) and what do i get in return? a few extra bucks... which went to taxes and other deductibles. how heartless. anyways, before that repulsive revelation came, i was able to apply for a saturday pto which i used to tag along with layla and finally take an immensely needed break in baguio city. i have been there several times before but this would be my first non-family trip there. layla on the other hand was a certified baguio virgin (although according to her dad, she was conceived there).

so, saturday morning, we got on the bus as chance passengers and spent the, give and take, five-hour ride talking, napping, taking pics, and trying not to watch the pinoy movie that was played. i actually noticed layla's excited smile grow bigger and bigger as we got closer, and when we finally arrived, she went child-like got-the-christmas-present-i-wanted, for the lack of a more suitable term, apeshit. a couple of taxis, some walking, and many fully-booked hotels later, we crashed in venus parkview hotel, the very place where layla was created. it rained quite a bit, by the way, so we stayed inside for a while, rested, and ate room service tinola for dinner. burp.


after testing how hot the shower water could get, we headed for the party spot as suggested by our baguio-native friends, an area called nevada square. the lissome layla wanted to dance, but the clubs were packed and the music didnt agree with her preference, so we settled with a small bar named caffeine addict, where a band was playing. with sliced frankfurters on the side, i downed a couple of san mig lights (no colt45, dammit) while layla had another first, a margarita. i left this joint with two things in mind: a) most, if not all, percussionists have a world of their own, and b) i really wanna learn how to play the sax. to be perfectly honest, there was a third thing playing around my head but thanks to the margarita, it came not into fruition. the moment layla hit the bed, the sandman caught her at once. cable tv, something i dont have in my apartment in boni, sent me to sleep some time later.


intermission: i hope i'm not the only one that thinks the cueshe song "borrowed time" is an absolute piece of crap. the chorus goes something like: oh it's good to be true if our hopes and dreams come true. wish that i could have more of this borrowed time. i hope it will last a lifetime. look at how they creatively rhymed the lines with the exact same word. talent my ass. not only do my ears hurt every time this shit starts blasting out the radio, my heart bleeds in pain for all the great poets and lyricists out there who torture themselves just to spew out some sensible stanzas. or sometimes they're just drunk or stoned, but at least they don't make you feel like, what the fuck, they get paid for songs like this?! my very sentiment about this particular song and band. anyways, now, back to our regular programming...

the next morning, we crossed the street to burnham park where layla biked while i ate chicharon. layla then did a bit of ukay-ukay shopping. we hurried back to venus for check out. we packed our stuff and bid our room goodbye and relocated to a nice building right next door, a place called ina mansion, which we should have picked in the first place because it was cheaper and in some ways better. there were two rooms available, i wanted room 13, layla wanted 39. since money makes the world spin, we took the room with the nicer view. it then rained hard and so we just rested for a while.


after being silly with fog breath, we had pizza at a place called pizza riccio, which was slightly tough to find. the whole time we munched there was nostalgic slow rock music playing. what ensnared my curiosity was this window:


it's an sos. note the bottles. now that is one fine piece of weirdness, kiddies. anyhoozle, layla did some ukay-ukay shopping next. she bought me new kicks as well. after that, we went to sm city baguio and watched pirates of the caribbean: at world's end, which we both enjoyed. we returned home tired and slept and dreaded the following day, our supposed last day in baguio.


monday was tourist day. first, we went to the strawberry farm. the time we spent there was a fraction of the time we spent getting there. we traveled back to civilization and layla bought ube jam from good shepherd. a quick walk and we were in mines view park and paid 20bucks just to get our picture taken with a huge st. bernard. layla also had a couple of pics with native duds on over her clothes. i wanted one as well and insisted that i wear nothing but the bahag. the old ladies who ran things said no. after a quick bite at a nearby karinderia, off we headed to camp john hay. we stayed the longest and took the most snapshots at the historical core that had the bell house, an amphitheater, a secret garden, and a quite friendly old geezer tour guide. after accomplishing a secret in the secret garden, we went home smiling. layla made her last minute purchases, we packed and bid baguio goodbye.


*as of this typing, me and her have called it quits. again. yeah, i know. i'm crazy/stupid. i thought i could work it out with her. but the she-devil felt otherwise and chose to tread the road to slutdom full-time. she is probably swapping dna with some other guy right now. define heartless.

that's it. im knackered. bleeding hearts of the world, unite!

oh, and happy fathers' day to all good dads out there, especially mine.

p.s. mr. wizard, the old dude who taught me, among other stuff, how to cut a sheet of paper in a manner that a person would fit into the resulting hole, has passed on to the big science lab in the sky. thank you, dear sir.
p.p.s. have you ever woken up from an evening nap, put on a shirt, left the house, ridden a near-full jeepney for 15 minutes, gotten off and walked half a mile in a crowded street to meet someone then realized that you've worn the shirt inside out?! no? well, i have.
p.p.p.s. thank you carmen electra for making feel better: