Breastfeeding

I was saddened when I learned I was not breastfed when I was a baby. I thought if I was breastfed I might have up my IQ points. I may not be suffering from asthma. I may not have bouts of depression. But I was part of that herd of the human population fed with cows milk without knowing the long lasting implications on the developing human body. At this age when we question the wisdom of fossil fuels and the degradation of our environment and the fall of civility and morals, isn't it about time that we question the effects of cows milk on society not just in terms of health concerns but the implications it has on how we behave. Have humans became cows? How about mad cow disease? Are we sure the prions were not transferred to processed milk? Is the future of the human race in one clean sweep altered because of the decision of mothers to not feed their children their own milk? I don't know how milk formula became so entrenched in human conciousness that it became the norm. Could be because of strong advertising campaigns. But do they have basis for that now. It is bad that nobody is out their telling mothers what is best for their babies.

Mario Bautista, MD

In these times, heroes are seem limited to comic books and the movies. I grew up with no heroes. The reason why I never had dreams I could call my own or aspirations of greatness or thoughts of grandeur. I can do with what is and give thanks for extras.

Even when I became a doctor, I never had expectations of greatness. I admired those who are driven, but never understood their need. I was going with the flow. Was it because of influence that I became that or was it because of lack of heroes? All around me I saw that the only solution to being unemployed after medical school was to go abroad. I would then dread cold, loneliness and the rat race.

So I stuck around. Finished residency in Pediatrics and a fellowship and decided to practice in a place where there was nothing of what I use to have. I was different and my need for conformity sometimes got me into trouble. Until someone told me, it does not matter to be different as long as you are doing what you know is right things will follow. I wish I had that advice from the very start.

After a series of events that seemed out of control trigerring a bout with depression, I was trying to come back. Relearn my skills and do what I was destined to do. The good thing I learned from my training was not to expect much and be thankful for little successes. When things go wrong, I still think of the "what if I went to the states." It will be long before that thought would go away. And I hope that would be soon. I don't want to see myself as a failure for a lifetime.

I wish I could say I am on my way home as Mario Bautista does. A senatorial candidate of the recently concluded Senatorial elections. I saw him on television today and was so impressed that he is the first person I have looked up on the internet who is not a celebrity. I share the same beliefs while reading his blog. I share his belief that as a people we should reclaim this country. I thought I was when I joined the EDSA II revolution. I thought I was when I was voting for alternative candidates. I thought I was when I was advocating breastfeeding. I thought I was when I made a decision to stay home. Nothing have changed since. I wish I could justify to myself, why I stayed home. Work and not be properly compensated. Be harrassed. Be humiliated. But for some brief moments of laughter. Some peace and smile on faces of babies who lived when otherwise they would not have, I find my solace.

My mother said everything will come back to you and it does not have to be in form of money. Maybe that was what my father was thinking all along. That greatness is not measured in terms of successes but how many people come to your funeral who are thankful that you have touched their lives. So to Doctor Mario, I hope I have known about you sooner and I would have campaigned for you. You have suddenly become my hero of the moment. Suddenly I know there are others who are willing to make this country proud.

Direction in Life

A very elusive point. Does this really exist. Make a list of your dreams on post-its and paste it on your bathroom mirror. You end up becoming dpressed day by day. How do you really discover your destiny. It's supposed to be destiny. do I waste time looking for it? Or am I the quintesscentialdestined to be but cannot? The refuser of glory. The unsung hero. The man behind the success. The shadow in the dark. Ha ha ha. The shadow in the dark nga. I hate depression. I hate this.

Sunsets at 6-C

What went wrong Melinda?

What the hell did Ryan just said? In all of AI's history no one has such consistency in range, vocals and delivery as Melinda Doolittle. It's sad she can never be the American Idol, but I know she is already there with Ella, Billy, Dionne, Aretha, Withney and Mariah. Just a little more time. Who needs to be AI anyway?

in order to heal you have to heal yourself first

I met this lady who does shiatsu massages. I was amazed with her stories because they are real life up to the minute things better told than read. Suffice to say she said you can only give energy which is the effect of the massage only if you are energized yourself. She stressed the importance of meditation and limiting the number of clients.

It was then clear that for me - to heal others, I have to heal myself first. I am feeling better now. I get to sleep longer now. I have lost the thoughts that haunt me and keep me tossing in bed at night. I see a bright sunny day, as a bright sunny day. But I am fearful. Fearful that the illness might come back. Sana wag na lang.

Do I really need to put a picture on every post?

Kailangan ba talagang lagyan ng picture lahat ng post sa isang blog? O pwede namang sulat sulat lang? Sulat sulat ng kahit ano. Pero kung ako kasi nakikibasa mas gusto ko may mga picture. Pero papano kung hindi ka magaling kumuha ng picture at pasmado ang iyong mga kamay halos ang nakukuha lang ng kamera ay ang shake wala na ang picture. Okay lang sa tinggin ko naman wala namang ibang sira-ulong magbabasa ng blog na ito.

P.S. Akala ko kaya ko na pero suko pa rin ako sa rush ng adrenalin. Pagmatagal na nakakalimutan na ng mga ugat kung papano lumaban sa biglang taas ng blood pressure at biglang bilis ng tibok ng puso empty pa rin ang brain hindi nag cliclick.

Sisid

Nasubukan mo na bang lumubog sa tubig
at hindi na lumitaw?

Hanggang mangmanhid and mata sa alat
at malapnos ang balat sa kamay.

Hanggang dahan-dahang sumisikip ang dibdib.
Hanggang pitik ng puso ay bumagal na.
Hanggang pumilit na umahon nang wala ng lakas.

Lumutang papaitaas sa kakaibang kaliwanagan.
Mga bula sa tubig lang ang saksi at nakiramay.

Mamamangka Ako

Kung pwede lang.
Kung pwede lang.
Mamamangka ako papalayo sa lahat ng ito.

Sa lahat ng gumugulo sa isip ko
Na paulit-ulit akong tinuturilo.

O sana,
Mayroong paraan na magsimula ulit
Nang walang kasiping
Na mga alaala
At mga panghihinayang.


Sana sa bagong islang aking matatanaw,
Mataas parati ang araw
Nang hindi ko maaaninag ang anino ng aking nakaraan.

Manila

Davao and Ponce Suites

What do you do when you are stuck in Davao for five hours waiting for a connecting flight to Manila? Look out for something unusual to do.

The Ponce Suites is located in an unlikely intercsection inside a sudivision surrounded by typical subdivision houses. A case of a building purged with artworks that one is assaulted by a battle of colors and shapes. I attempted to find meaning in the chaos of blues and reds and yellows and greens, but the secret I understood only when I arrived on the second floor landing is to let the art come as it presents itself. A piece of art hang on every inch of space, the walls and the stairs. Even the ceilings have giant black ant sculptures that will guide your way up to the restaurant.

The restaurant is sourrounded by Gaudi like concrete scultpures of animals and nooks that vary in inspiration from detailed black and white drawings on ceilings, bats sculptures, baskets and capiz shells, and the voltes eagle on the stairway.

The building is surrounded bronze sculptures that are similar to those in the UP foundry when I was in college. Kublai the owner-artist finished fine arts at the UP. I was told the place was a hit eight years ago when it opened but sadly is now a forgotten wonder of the largest city on the planet. If only they decided to put all those sculptures in the different parts of the city which would serve as landmarks then it would make riding from one point to another in this town more of a pleasure. Too bad it seems that Davao has forgotten its own. Somewhere in London or Paris or New York, this would have been a hip place.

Boracay food Rants

Here are the lost causes. Maybe I have expected too much from these places, but we were paying good money so I suppose its not just the taste but the service as well which should be worth the price.

The famous NigiNigi eat all you can Huevos Mexicanos. So how much eggs can you eat for breakfast? Just a plate. If it tasted better, I would have asked for more. But no, the green and red pepper strips were getting in the way as I was chewing through what a bit of egg shell. Good there was slices of bread and marmalade on the side.

Another famous place, Fridays. We got the house specialties, duck and ostrich. Excited as we were after waiting under the sweltering heat we got blood on our cooked birds. The waiter forgot to ask how we wanted our dish done. Too bad. After serving the waiters were nowhere to be found. I guess if you are made to wear polo and rubber shoes on a seaside restaurant, you would rahter take the heat inside the kitchen than attend to your guest. I have heard my friends tell me great things about this place but it so sad they could not have lived up to their reputation for all their guests.

Cafe del Mar. Spawned a techno CD long before Armand Tahanglangit invented Boracay sound. But the mermaid margarita stained my yellow shirt blue and didn't tasted half as good. We thought we were going to have chili crab Singaporean style, but instead it was crabs in coconut. I could not read in the dark surroundings of the beach lounge area. But disappointing, I have tasted crabs better somewhere else at tenth of its price. I do commend the croutons on the mashed squash on coconut cream soup. But otherwise, just get your San Miguel if you're planning to eat here.

Worstest place to eat. Lemon Cafe. Going to the D'mall is like going to a mall in
Manila. It's like they have taken a piece of the crazy city into paradise which entirely ruined it complete with eye-candy ferris wheel. So The cafe was the only thing that stood out different. But having pineapple lemon shake for a bestseller must be a joke. This was what the waitress recommended. It was like sour mixed with sour. To top it I ordered lemon tarts that was sour as hell. Hey, that's why it's called lemon cafe. They don't even have ice water. And they have like four people behind the counter and only one pregnant girl waiting on the tables. Talk about labor injustice. So I just ended up finding solace taking a picture of the ferris wheel.

Boracay Food Raves II

La Reserve is one of the finest and oldest resorts in the island. True to its legacy, the food remained as it was before. The seafood pasta is more seafood than pasta, with shrimps, squid and fish fillets swimming in a creamy sauce. The chicken cordon blue melted in my mouth. The watermelon freeze was better than milk sogged shakes at Jonah's. It was good to see that there are places in the island that never changed.

It was ironic that we have to eat at Cyma not in Manila but in Boracay. But the old reliable dessert places are now gone like Caribu for the Banana oreo and Stables for the kalamansi squares. So we got the sampler and the mango flambe. Not exciting as I would have expected, but not bad at all.

Boracay Food Raves

Anybody can do a review but not anybody can write a book. But reviews give readers a chance to say what they exactly feel about the work and serves as a way for the writer to improve. Too bad I grew up in a culture where comments are seen as destructive as if all of us werte created perfect.

So to make this an official blog, the next posts will be all about food I have sampled during my recent Boracay trip.

Let's start with the two bestest. I could not decide which but hands down Dos Mestizos and Nami are winners.

Enter a perfectly lit up restaurant not too dark not too bright, you are warmly greeted by the manager, Javier and the bubbly waitress Joan. The lemon mojito is to die for probably, the best in the island. The paella valenciana was superb, rivals those in Manila. The Callos had flavors of ox tripe drowned in spices instead of tomato sauce. But what I loved most was the fresh squid stuffed with tomatoes, slightly salted eggs and onions, every bite had juices blending into one perfect flavor. The dessert was delicate custard cream with faint hints of sweetness and mangoes.

The restaurant was run efficiently with personalized service. Here, they will actually give you good advice as to what is good on the menu. I don't even know of any restaurant which will give away the brand of their balsamic vinegar. These were what made the old Boracay restaurants different from the others on the rest of the islands. Coupled with food that did not disappoint me, this is the perfect place to eat in Boracay.

I had lunch in Nami. The table was set on a balcony with a breath taking view of Diniwid Beach. If you hate the pandemonium on white beach, then this is the last remaining vestiges of what Boracay was like ten years ago before concrete roads and buildings have taken over the island. I got lamb for lunch. Probably the best lamb I've had. Not that I have eaten lamb a lot of times. It has no aftertaste of gory bland lamb fat which I so hate about lamb. I stayed in Nami for a day, the service was excellent, the views stunning and the rooms well built. If you are going to splurge then this is the place to stay and eat as well.