Christmas Wish List

Christmas is around the corner, so everybody says. Hence, here’s my wish list, although I might end up buying all these stuff myself anyway. For my friends who know me and read this blog, wherever you are (let me enumerate: US, UK, UAE, France, Germany, Qatar, Singapore and Australia as well as here locally, in Cebu, Cagayan de Oro and Manila), gift-giving to the less fortunate (read: ME) knows no boundaries *wink, wink*.

1. Mountain bike- need to take up other sports activity other than rowing, swimming and jogging. I’m serious. Ambrose and I used to pedal our way in high school from Camp 14 to as far as Manolo Fortich in Bukidnon, passing by steep gravel roads that cut through deep canyons. I plan to bike-tour Rizal next year with Doc and Frodo.

2. I-pod 4GB, or Creatives mp3/4 player. Saw these in Bugis, Singapore at a price lower than here in PH. Will make a good companion while navigating an uphill route going to Antipolo.

3. Cork opener. Those first-rate hand-made devices made in France and Germany are a sight to behold: beautiful finish, excellent craftsmanship. I can spend the whole day just looking at it. Plus, I drink red wine (good for the heart). The made-in-China ones available in supermarkets locally leave much to be desired.

4. Tea leaves strainer cup. I bought a pack of tea in China, but since it does not come in a tea-bag English-style format, I need a cup that has a compact leaf strainer inside so that I don’t end up with tea leaves stuck in-between my teeth. No, I don’t need a tea set, saucers and all.

5. Cargo shorts, preferably Ambercrombie & Fitch, vintage. I know, I have several pairs already, but I want the fatigue one. Size 28 (I’m size 30, but A&F usually allots a size bigger than your actual waistline). It’s not available here.

6. Diesel tees. Not the flashy ones, though. Size medium. Too expensive here.

7. Adidas or Nike running shoes. Size 9 ½.

8. Bulgari perfume. No Jovan Musk please. Not much of a perfume user, though (my “natural” scent is wonderful enough) but I like the scent.

9. Dark green or almost maroon Speedo swimming trunks (plus goggles and ear plugs). Will take up swimming again maybe March when the water gets warm again. Colors not available here.

10. A piano score of W.A. Mozart’s “12 Variations on ‘Ah! Vous-dirai je maman!’” or a DVD copy of Gioacchino Rossini’s Guillaume Tell and Richard Wagner’s “Ring” Trilogy. Failed to find these in Quiapo.

Preparing for Another Storm

I stacked up on candles, batteries, canned goods, water, bread and the main food groups soda and chips in preparation for the onslaught of another super typhoon, Reming.

In the aftermath of typhoon Milenyo which hit the metropolis last September, I found myself like a nuclear disaster survivor scouring the streets of Cubao looking for food and candles.

I think everybody learned from that experience. My neighborhood supermarket is full of shoppers stacking up exactly the same things on my list. We’re all preparing for Reming’s week-end assault.

Hell's Music

Running low on funds, I took the jeepney on my way home from my mid-week jog last night in Marikina to my place in Cubao.

Unfortunately, the sound system blared a 70’s Sampaguita classic, disco version. I wanted to puke. It was preceded by a really ugly rendition by some unidentified local rock band which kept on caterwauling Quezon City’s various housing projects, as in “project 2, 3, 4 and so on…” in its lyrics. Ugh…as in ughly!

Handed over my fare but I didn’t even bother asking for the change, I alighted and changed jeeps during a traffic jam as the audio assault became too much for me to bear. I pity the kid sitting right across me. He covered his ears with his hands.

It was too awful to describe. It must be the same music being played in hell to torment doomed souls. I should remember to be good.

Crooked Arm

I have a crooked left arm. When I extend both my arms forward and twist them outwards, the left doesn’t move as much as the right.

When I was a kid in the Bukidnon highlands, we had to cross a small valley via a short cut route: a staircase made of concrete that extends down to the wooden small bridge over a small brook and ascends to the other side. The hand railing, made of wood was made smooth by kids who’d use this as a “slide”.

On top of the stairs, we’d position and sit our asses by using a supermarket carton as the sled. We’d slide down the entire stretch, slowly of course, until reaching the foot of the stairs by the bridge.

Encouraged by Harrison Ford’s daredevil moves as Indiana Jones and Roger Moore’s James Bond (people, this was the golden age of the Betamax), I sled down the railing as fast as I could. Only to lose my balance at the bottom; I had to use my left arm to support my fall, screaming my lungs out in the process because of the pain.

I'm always reminded of that fateful day everytime I look at my crooked arm.

Eased Out

I had dinner with Raul last night, a rowing colleague and former team manager. He happened to be in the vicinity so we met up in Marvin Agustin’s restaurant at the Gateway Mall—I forgot the name (I initially didn’t want to go there, given its association with the local celebrity).

He told me his business partner fired him (or “eased him out”) for suspending a staffer who’s been sleeping on the job. I feel bad for him, of course. He never expected the situation to back fire on him; he's the one holding the empty bag. Left without a choice, he plans to strike out on his own.

I’ve been free-lancing for quite sometime myself. It’s never easy. It takes a lot of grit, determination and patience to close a single account when you’re up against bigger and more established competitors.

I wish him luck.

Castrato She Isn't

I really wonder if there’s anybody out there who can outmatch Cecilia Bartoli in vocal acrobatics. She makes the voice sound like it were a flute, a violin or a pianoforte. Only the castrati of the 17th and 18th centuries could sing like this.

She doesn't have a powerful voice and it leaves a different after-taste sometimes. But there's no doubt she is a vocal virtousi well-suited to the Baroque--used to be dominated by the castrati, or castrated males who specialized in female roles and now totally extinct-- and florid Bel Canto repertoires.

Here's a video clip of Antonio Vivaldi's Agitata da due venti...

Critic-At-Large

One grade-schooler reporter for a national daily joined us one morning two weeks ago for dragon boat practice. Her feature came out in the kiddie section in today’s issue. I craned my neck trying to look at our pictures splattered across the pages as we huddled to read the short article about our training routine.

“What does she say about us?” I asked nobody in particular, expecting to elicit a response from anybody who heard me.

“Huh?” Obviously no one bothered to read it, they just want to look at the pictures.

I took the newspaper and immediately after reading the first line, I blurted out, “You don’t write like this. You don’t say, “I was assigned to do a report on dragon boating” because it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

Almost in unison, some of the girls chorused, “Ron, hello? She’s still in sixth grade!”

I didn’t mind being taken to task for criticizing the work of a child, because as any doctor would agree, if there’s cancer, it is best to treat it as early as possible.

Right?

Ooohh, I’m sooo bad. Put a sock in it, will ya? I’m kidding, of course.