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Last weekend was probably one of the best I’ve ever had: with four friends I embarked on a tiring but nature-filled trip to Ilocos, where we frolicked under the sun (on the day state weather forecasters tagged as the hottest of the year, no less), trekked a little bit to get to an amazing waterfall, and laid on the sand at night to gaze at the stars and listen to music.
My weekend, in pictures (photos courtesy of Sophia, Aie, Seph, Mark).
We left 9 p.m. Friday, rode the van for nearly 12 hours, and had breakfast here at Grandpa's.
We went to Baluarte, a mini-zoo, where we saw these llamas. I had a hippie moment: I kept on telling the driver not to hit the pony that was pulling our carriage (I ended up hating myself for riding it). Was resolved afterwards that animals should be free to roam the earth. Freeeee!
I couldn't stop myself from singing The Righteous Brothers' "Unchained Melody" when we stopped by the pottery barn.
We stopped by other places: a museum, a Church, a lighthouse, a rock formation, beaches, waterfalls, windmills…
On the stairs of the Marcoses' former resthouse, the size and location of which nearly drove me insane. There is no justice in this world.
Look at how clear the water is!
First night dinner!
- Second night dinner!
This is what I look like when I am thinking about how much I hate the heat of the sun.
- I can’t believe I managed to smile here. I was already itching to kill someone, anyone, because of the damn heat.
The five of us at the beach :p
pride
The FX driver was fuming.
“Sarap bugbugin ni Hatton! Pumusta-pusta pa naman ako sa hinayupak na yun,” he practically shouted to his captive audience (us poor passengers).
“Puta, second round natulog na agad,” he continued. “Sana ipinang-sabong ko na lang, tangina.”
I had the asshole smile on my face as I muttered under my breath, “buti nga.” Serves you right for betting on the Brit, I thought. I had just seen the live telecast of the Manny Pacquiao-Ricky Hatton fight, and I was still reeling from the excitement of watching a big game with a bunch of real boxing fans, mostly male and middle-aged, some of them flushed after downing a few bottles of beer to psych themselves up for the match.
I’m no boxing aficionado, so I’m not even going to try and rave about how great Pacquiao’s left hook was. But I’ll give you this: I am so going to watch the next Pacquiao fight 
day tripper
Last Wednesday I skipped work so the entire family can go to Cavite for my grandma’s birthday. As I sat inside the car, I realized that the same thing happens every family trip to Cavite. To illustrate:
1. Dad would drive. Horrendous music from some new Pinoy band plays on the radio, and I would complain. Dad concurs, and switches the station to good old RJ, which plays The Beatles, like, every two songs.
2. We listen in peace, with me asking every now and then what song is playing. I become somewhat convinced that I’m either a Californian hippie or a British groupie from the 70s trapped in the body of a 21-year-old living in the 21st century.
3. While all this is going on my mother would go into full backseat driving mode. You know what backseat driving is? It’s when you’re not driving but you keep on yakking about how the one behind the wheel should drive: “go slow,” “wait there’s the red light,” “don’t go too near that bus.” I love my mother, but this drives me crazy. If there’s something I want more than anything else in the world, it’s not world peace, but an end to backseat driving.
4. I gaze out the window and “ponder on life” to shut out the backseat driving comments.
5. I sleep.
6. My sisters wake me up to announce that we have arrived. I groggily get out of the car, then throw myself on my grandma’s couch to sleep some more.
***
My boyfriend isn’t too crazy about The Beatles–he’s more into The Doors, he says–but we find The Beatles’ “Something” special.
Here’s the actual video, where John Lennon and Yoko Ono look like they came from Transylvania:
And the “Across the Universe” version, which I adore for its simplicity and Jim Sturgess’ smooth, dreamy voice.
