seasonally ok

Before we start…open spotify or Apple Music and search for “Pure Shores” by All Saints.

Got it? Ok.

As someone who grew up in the Philippines, i only knew two seasons. Wet & dry. Or…hot and hotter. And so i feel i only had two moods. Happy and happier. Or good and better. These moods or personalities were heavily dictated by how I grew up.

I am the youngest child of both my mom and dad, but i grew up only with my mom. My dad left when i was three and he was a compilation of stories that i pieced together from my older brother, my mom, my uncles and everyone who had the pleasure of spending time with him-but me. I obviously put him on a high pedestal because i grew up in the 90s where Disney movies were not just a weekend habit but a way of life. And as i secretly convinced my young mind that, i too, was a Disney princess of some sort…it made perfect sense to me that my dad didn’t want to leave but had to. I was also enrolled in a very conservative, Catholic school. I followed every rule in the book and went home earlier than anyone i knew because that was what my mom told me to do. On the weekends, I’d spend my time with my best friends in our village, Natalie or Wendy but on Sundays, I would prepare for the Kingdom Hall. My mom has been a practicing Jehovah’s Witness since before i was born and i grew up in the safety of our congregation. What i lacked in a father figure was filled by the idea that Jehovah God was filling in as my father. And i still believe that to this day. We did service three times a week. Two hours on Sundays for the watchtower study and the public talk. An hour on Tuesdays for our CBS or congregational book study. And two hours every thursday for our Theocratic Ministry. I loved attending our meetings. I grew up quite simple. I had a lot of female cousins older than me and i would get the best hand me downs. But kingdom hall clothes were special. My mom would even bring me to a modiste at a very young age so i could get custom fit, modest dresses and department store bought sandals to match. And every year for our Memorial Service (when we celebrate the death of Jesus Christ and effectively our freedom) i would get a new outfit. Memorial for us is equivalent to Christmas for you, if that explains it better. My days were filled by rules and standards that i told myself i had to abide by. The friends and cousins i grew up with had a relatively more relaxed upbringing, and some had gone astray one way or another, but i never had any room to fail. So like i said….happy or happier…good or better…let me add to that, blessed and grateful and forever in your service.

Now go back to Spotify or Apple Music and listen to “Transatlanticism” by Deathcab For Cutie. Ill wait. But please come back, i have more to say.

When i was first discovered to work as an actress at 16, i was fresh out of high school with zero life experience. I was always told that i acted older than my age but only because i was very prim and proper and i was more quiet than those around me. But boy did my eyes peel open to the world. Kids younger than me would be smoking at the rooftop of our network. 14 year olds were in steady relationships (meanwhile my mom would still read my messages every night to check that i was in line.) and my peers were breadwinners. The world was suddenly upside down for me. To have remained steadfast in that environment wasnt the easiest thing, but it was doable. Everything is doable. Obviously, now in 2023, there are so many things that have changed, and the world is much more open than it ever has been, and my mind too has been more forgiving to me and to how things happen, but i do have to admit that i still stay in line.

I buried myself in work. You guys all know this and i can never shut up about it. But only because its the only way i can justify the life i have now where im not as active in our congregation. I also got to travel a whole lot more. I traveled a few times alone at a very young age to visit my dad. (I had seen him more when i started to earn my own salary and i could buy myself my own tickets and as much as i hate to say it, i built our relationship) But the places ive been to because of my work, i never thought i would go to. I am probably the most well traveled now in our huge family…or the friends i grew up with…and everytime i leave and consider a new island or city or country “home” (as i always sentimentally do) i break a little corner of my heart because i either always want to stay for good but also because i feel further and further away from the people that were familiar to me.

In traveling too, i started experiencing seasons. Spring is my favorite. The earth feels happy. The soil smells sweeter and the wind is still cold enough to remind you of winter but it is bearable enough to make you think of summer. Summer is home. Its what i grew up with and its what i know the most. I am in my element in summer. Autumn /fall is the worst. Its depressing for me. Its beautiful, but it reminds me of death. I know that the natural progression of trees and flowers are to eventually wilt and fall to preserve and keep the the main trunk/plant alive, but i silently weep when i see leaves and petals decaying on the ground. (I never thought I would have the capacity to feel this much for trees.) Funnily, winter is limbo. It’s a state of nothingness for me. Its brutally cold and the days are short but i don’t necessarily get sad because of it…maybe a bit indifferent? But these seasons have embedded themselves into my DNA. The same as when i was only happy or happier in Manila, i have now become an up and down mess of emotions and questions with the four seasons of London that i now call home. (Btw, London is not as gloomy as they paint it to be.)

I think what im trying to say, is that i have changed. From the impressionable 16 year old with no life experiences, i am now 32…jaded and hopeful but in a weird headspace. I have come full circle but am extremely tired. A good friend of mine told me that i pretty much saved her during the pandemic. I would give her pep talks and would constantly reassure her that all would be ok. And im thankful that she feels that way but that wasnt new to me then. Because i was that girl. The girl who was almost too optimistic. And suddenly, i am not her anymore. And i grieve for her departure and would honestly prefer to be the person constantly giving pep talks to the people around me (some of whom were probably not listening)…but i am now on the other side of that table. And i see myself as autumn right now. My dreams, hopes, ideas and beliefs are all on the floor. And i weep for them. I weep when i see new places because i see their beauty but never mine reflected back at me. And i weep at places ive been to before, because i cant feel the same joy in seeing them for the first time again. i have stopped listening to songs i love because they dont feel like they were written for me anymore like i used to believe.

And i hate to be writing this because i hate not being ok, but my days are so quiet that my thoughts have become too loud. And i need to release some of the noise thats been eating me up. I could spend entire afternoons wandering, never uttering a word because i exist among strangers, and i, too, am a stranger in return. And there is such a breathtaking beauty in all of this, im just too absorbed in it to see and appreciate it. And the silence is scary. It talks back to your doubts and reaffirms your worst misconceptions. and this will probably come surprising to most of you readers because i function normally when i need to. But every second word i need to say comes with paragraphs of questions in my mind. I dont even know anymore if i should have a voice.

At the moment, i just need the world to move quicker so i could finally be spring. But i am not the earth and my seasons aren’t dictated by hours and days and weeks and months. I cant predict when i will be happy and happier in summer again or what spring will be like because i have never become her. And i am afraid of the indifference that i will exclude on my winter days.

i am sorry if this has been too heavy. Ill make it up to you by leaving you one of my favorite songs. Go back to Spotify or Apple Music and play “Oysters In My Pocket” by Royel Otis that i would have loved to dance to, a lifetime ago.

from the other side of the pond

Hello, dear readers. As you probably have noticed, I haven’t written in a while. And I must say, I miss being here in our safe space. Talking, sharing my musings, ranting and questioning everything and nothing at all. There’s so much I want to say and so much I’ve seen and felt since I left Manila on July 5.

What I could say for now is that I’m excited to share everything. I think now more than ever, thoughts, questions and specially answers should be written and read. So I’ll create that space for us very very soon, I hope you’re all still there (…there…there…*echoes*) 🙂 in the meantime, enjoy your holidays and I’ll leave you with a song. Come on, get on Spotify, type in Junk Of The Heart by The Kooks. Dance like no one’s watching and thank me later. Love you guys! ❤️

musing muse

I don’t know what to say just yet but I have a million thoughts. Come back in a few days and I might have spilled them out by then. Keep safe. X

Hello! 6 days after. Yes, it took me this long to remember that I had a blog post waiting to be finished. It’s funny, because I wanted to talk about my little musings but at the same time I can’t remember my thoughts. I’ve always been very forgetful. But this year I noticed that I can’t even finish my thoughts and therefore my sentences. So I’ll be damned if I remember what I wanted to say 6 days ago.

*side note, I left the app for a while to check if my medication causes brain fog. (I mean I know that in a way it must have all along because I’ve been so forgetful since january.) anyway, I’m back on the app now and yes, what I have causes brain fog but also the medication I take can cause brain fog. I got a great two for one Dra here folks!

Anyway. I’ve had meany many hours to contemplate what I’ve become since January. And although I joke a lot about the downsides, there are also great upsides to all of this. First, my back and my eyes havent flared up since January. There were a few times when I’d feel my back start to hurt, but it always stops before I get a full blown attack. Same with my eyes. And so, I’m thankful.

Every day I get now…with all of this… plus the pandemic, seems like a great bonus. But also, a lot of days seem mundane. I don’t know what to do, think or say next. On most days, I wish I could be somebody else for a few minutes.

yestermorrow

This day started yesterday, March 13th. I woke up in Cappadocia just before 7am (noon in PH time.) I was at my happiest, from spending days in Turkey- working on 366 and just living. Best of all, being with Norman. And also, suddenly my saddest, because I had to take him to the airport for his flight back to Switzerland. I’m writing this in a hotel bathrobe, it’s 10:50 pm now, March 14th and I’m back in Manila. We drove to the Nevsehir airport and got there at 8:30am, just in time for his 10am flight. 15 days with Norman are never enough. But that’s always the time we have… roughly two weeks. I waited outside the airport, watched his silhouette get smaller and smaller as he moved further and further away from the automatic doors. I was freezing outside because it snowed the day before and the winds were still carrying the crisp, fresh air around. When I couldn’t see him anymore, I walked back to the parking lot and let myself cry a bit in the car as I drove back to the city. Norman offered to come out again after his bag was checked in but Ive never been the type to rip band aids slowly. So instead, he kept me company on the phone as I drove through the desert. Stretches of golden brown rocks and hills sprinkled with bushes and trees that are just starting to wake up from winter. Behind everything is a beautiful mountain still covered in snow and a few dozen hot air balloons suspended in the air. I drive for half an hour to get back to the hotel. To pack my clothes, coats, costumes and props used for the film and gifts for friends and family back home. I sit on the edge of the bed for a bit. For the first time in fifteen days, I am completely alone again. The silence makes me so aware that the hotel is buzzing. New tourists have come in and I hear their excitement. Norman is just about to fly off and he texts me to enjoy my day and not be lonely. I didn’t want to sit with my thoughts all day. That wasn’t the plan. But being alone again hits you like a wall. And this is a reality I’m very very familiar with. And I am ok with all of it, it just felt more real in that exact moment. Eventually, I get up to pack everything, finally.

I wear my coat again and take my wallet and car keys and drive off to Avanos for breakfast. I park in front of a shop that sells all kinds of soaps, colognes, face masks, vitamins and oddly enough, cigarettes. We love that shop. Our friend, Arif, took us there the first time we met him in September. But we entered the shop only to exit, to get to the other side of the road because it has two doors. Since then, I’ve returned a few times. But I must say, the feeling of entering and seeing so many things at once and then leaving without buying anything the first time made me love this shop even more. I made a mental note to return one last time after breakfast. So I cross the bridge and see the ducks on the river below. Say goodbye quickly under my breath and get to the other side. Mado is a chain. You see it in every city. They serve beautiful Turkish food, in restaurants that look like you’re in London or New York. I go in and my cheeks are grateful for warmth of the heater but it was full, so I asked if I could sit outside in the sun, facing the river. A week ago, Norman sat here as I shot my scenes for the movie. In all the other scenes, he stayed with me. But for this particular one I asked if he could go somewhere else. The scene was heavy and I didn’t want him to see me cry at/for work and the sight of him makes me happy. He told me how lovely it was to just look out into the river. So, I order kaymak and hot goat cheese for my last Turkish breakfast. I’ve fallen in love with Kaymak. Eating it without Norman looking at me, amused, felt different. But I tried to enjoy every bite. I emptied my head and focused on slicing my food precisely. Amazingly, anywhere in Turkey, where there is a restaurant, there are at least three cats. The first one that approached had a piece of my hot goat cheese and the next, Kaymak without honey. I watched people pass. Some looked at me weirdly, and I get why. You don’t see too many people in Turkey that are alone, almost everyone moves in groups. I paid for my food after finishing everything and walked a cross the bridge again. There were policemen on both ends, reminding people to keep their masks on. I go into the shop and buy clay face masks to give to my mom. I look at the man behind the cashier and think to myself that I won’t see his face for a while, or ever again. the half that I know at least. The masked part could look like anything. I’m pretty sure that the next time I see Norman won’t be in Cappadocia and so I say goodbye in my head to all the spots we went to as I drive around town.

I go back to the hotel and shower for my flight in the evening. A man knocks an hour after to ask if I’m ready so they could clean the room for the next guests. I say yes. My bags are carried to the lobby and I take my backpack as I drive around aimlessly again. I go to Urgup and then Goreme where I finally find a place to park. I cross the road and enter the touristy shops that Norman doesn’t particularly like. I allow myself to take my time as I look at keychains and little things that are fun to look at and buy in the moment you’re there but will end up in a drawer of nothings in 3 years. So I keep my hands in my pockets and leave each shop, thanking the people who enthusiastically tell me how much everything is. I go to a cafe that we went to and I buy an orange soda, taking small sips as I find my way back to the car. Before I start driving again, I text the owner of the car rental service that he can take the car already. I pass through the fairy chimneys, the horse ranches and viewpoints one last time and wait in the hotel lobby. Oguz picked up the car keys and I said thank you. More to the car, than him, I think. He gave us the same car we had in September and it’s taken us to such beautiful places.

Shortly after, a van came to pick me up. The kind man that drove me, who spoke zero English, almost took me to the wrong airport. (This is why I always leave extra early.) But he ~kindly~ took my bags to the airport door where I was standing hours before on the other side, and I check in. The first plane ride to Istanbul was just an hour long. Riding planes during a pandemic is tricky. But not as hard as we all think it is. I get to Istanbul and was the only passenger from my first flight that had a connecting, international flight. From our tiny plane to the bus to the beautiful airport, I entered a different door, the glass wall between me and all the other passengers separated me from people again and now it’s just funny. I watched them as I ascended the escalators and then walked alone for about 5 minutes until I got to the immigration gates. This whole part, I love. Moving around a shared space of nowhere. Eating food you normally wouldn’t eat so late or so early in the day. Airports for me are safe boxes that follow no time or location. Your boarding pass, reflecting the local time from your place of origin and the local time in your destination. Always so magical to me. I wander. Buy Turkish delights and apple tea for a few more people and finally stay in the lounge. I watch as the huge screens flip between Turkish and English every two seconds. In the meantime, I get up to have a strawberry yogurt, the bowl, cold in my hands made me worry a little because the medication I have in my bag has now been out of a refrigerator for more than four hours. I itch to get on the plane and have it chilled again. Norman is finally back in Switzerland at this point and I, still being in Turkey, have a feeling that the trip isn’t over yet. Because one of us still is where we should be. At 1:30 am, Turkish time (6:30am Manila time) I board the plane that would take me home. My earphones are tangled with my scarf and everything but I don’t fix it. Norman reads Noli Me Tangere to me (a translated copy.) A gift I got him last year. He likes reading things out loud. And I love listening. I fasten my seatbelt and eventually drift off. Basilio in this part of the book is asking if he could go home for christmas to surprise his mother and brother, not knowing what happened while he was gone. I slept through take off and wake up with my phone on my lap an hour after when they served “dinner.” After two films, more food and roughly 11 hours in the air, I finally made my way back home. Home for now is a quarantine hotel and it will be for the next seven days. Norman and I talk through screens as I unpack and listen to what his day’s been like so far. It was a new day for him already when I landed in Manila and we’re back to how we usually are. As tall as our smartphone screens. Yes, the new day has unfolded for him already, back with his friends and work…while I refuse to sleep and write this instead, living in a day where I still saw him in person, this morning.

a fire in my bones

As I was writing the title I started humming Adele’s song but soon realized the fire started in her heart. Also, to be more accurate the fire started in my left eye years ago, and now transferred to my bones. After nearly two months of back and forths in different hospitals and five doctors…I finally have a diagnosis!!! Who would’ve thought that my eye and back problems were connected 🙈

(Also quick side note I’m quite heartbroken but still happy for Harry if he were really dating Olivia but it admittedly sucks that the news came out a few days before my first treatment but I’ll maybe write about that in another blog.) (Maybe.)

So, drumroll please….I have Ankylosing Spondylitis! A rare auto immune disorder for a woman as young as I am but here I am, continually going against the norm. I pat my 17 year old indie-music-loving self on the back for being such a rebel. To those who don’t know what auto immune disorders are, please look it up 😂 but to put it simply, my immune system is now attacking my body. Specifically my eyes and my bones.

I did a series of tests in December and tested positive for the markers of this auto immune disease and I have been doing everything I can to help myself get better. Tomorrow will be my first treatment session and i will be using the same medicine used for chemo since AS doesn’t really have a cure yet.

I’ve been sleeping at 10pm now a far cry from my 4 am that I am used to because of work and I wake up at 9am now. (I’ve been doing this for 4 days and I’m very proud.) I know, I know…I’m writing past midnight. But I am a bit scared for tomorrow. Also my bones (like I said) are on fire right now and I refuse to drink a painkiller a few hours before my first treatment. The goal is to keep my body alive. Not kill it more. So I’m trying to lessen the painkillers. This of course is not ideal since i feel the pain from my neck to my toes. The blue part of the flame of my “imaginary fire” being in my lower back area and thighs today.

I’m hopeful though. I’ve had a mix of feedback from family and friends. A good divide of opinions on western and eastern medicine. Not good for me, since the divide didn’t help me choose too much. But the discussions were all informative. albeit, overwhelming.

I also start filming next week so I’ve been on zoom calls every night to check locations, costumes, to be on top of preprod meetings. But I often find myself quiet in these meetings. Beneath the coverage of my camera are booklets from my uncle who is a holistic doctor. So as we discuss the locations for certain scenes, I’ve been reading up on what leafy vegetable I should have. I feel guilty about it sometimes. But I also need to stay alive.

So as you can probably tell, I wrote this because I need to decompress my brain of it’s thoughts. Before opening my WordPress app, I was reading up on the benefits of celery juice in the morning for people with auto immune diseases and I somehow spiraled down and found myself on someone else’s account and was trying my best to remember her recipe for a roasted delicata squash dish until I started wondering if we even have these kinds of squash in our lovely country. That thought was put on standby by another thought. I was thinking of how much I actually need to do on set and if I’m ready to work already. That one too was put on hold as I imagined the needle that will poke me at 11 am tomorrow. You see, my minds been a mess. I’ve been a mess. And I’m sorry for it, but right now, I really don’t know what to do because all I honestly think of is extinguishing the fire in my freaking bones.

Living in a bubble.

I’m in a bubble. Not the locked-in-a hotel-with-people-for-work type of bubble, but my own little bubble. And I like it here. When I need to interact, I leave my bubble at home, safe for me to enter when I’m tired and done with everything.

I made this bubble for many reasons. Self preservation, my sanity, a desire to find silence in this ever so chaotic and loud world…maybe?

See, I was told this week that my iris and lens attached and I could possibly lose my eyesight on my left eye, because of a condition I’ve had for about 4 years. (Overworking isn’t noble, it’s harmful, kids.) But all of that didn’t register until I got to my bubble. And in the comfort of my own space, I accepted that news quite calmly. Other people around me took it differently. But I was and am fine at the moment. Writing as much as I can while I can still see with both eyes. Hoping that it’s not too late and I can still salvage my left, zombie eye. o

Also, my back is broken. Not in the Jake Gyllenhaal-Heath Ledger context but in the “you have 2 slip discs but painkillers and physical therapy should help you manage the pain” context. 2020 shone its light on me this week and said “Belaaaaa! It’s your tuuurn” in a sing-song voice.

So everyday, while I work on my mew film, I walk to places and look people in their eyes. But unbeknownst to everyone, I wobble back home, inhaling sharply when I step wrong, hoping not to slam into things I can’t see, like nothings wrong.

I didn’t accept locked in work all year, to finally create this film that I’ve been preparing for, for two years, with people I trust, so I’m finding it quite ironic that my body is breaking apart now, just a few steps away from finally telling the story of June. I’m devastated, heartbroken even. But never in my bubble. I only have happy thoughts here. And an abandon of time.

I know I’ll be ok. Here, inside, I hide, pretending my bubble is an invisibility cloak that 2020 can’t once again find. Plop!

new normal

I’ve always valued the time I get to spend in silence. In tents and sets there is always someone talking. So thinking is next to impossible. Unless you start training your mind to somehow tune people out, something I feel very guilty about. I’ve been in tents and sets non stop for a few years now. I had to create a new normal.

The day before the lockdown, I was at two work meetings. One, with a producer that was screaming uncharacteristically, because she wanted things done her way. And I saw her point and gave in, even if I was sure I would leave, having my way followed for the first time. I tried, kids. And second, with friends discussing a new film we were going to do, supposedly in a few weeks if not for this quarantine…Ideas, words and thoughts just flying in the air. Laughter hasn’t rung deep inside in a while because there were too many jokes passed around that laughing was more a polite answer than an actual reaction at that point. Those were my last bits of social interaction. Work related. On the morning of the lockdown, I was scheduled to shoot my film. I woke up at 5am, as usual, got to the set at 6am, my hair still wet, the guard of the building we were supposed to shoot in sent us all home before we could go in. Everything closed down that day. My driver took me home, it took us 3 hours instead of one, because all the offices sent everyone home. All stuck in the forever, unmoving EDSA. I grumbled as I woke up at around 10 in my lobby. I told my driver to go home already since my day was unusually cleared off. That was the last time I saw my driver, him living outside metro Manila has restricted him from going to work. And really what’s the point if he can’t drive me anywhere?

I question myself a lot. Why did I make those choices? We already heard rumors that the government would implement a quarantine. Why didn’t I watch a movie with my mom that night? Why didn’t I visit Dani and my goddaughter Millie? Because, like everyone else… I probably didn’t think it would get this serious. Now after 41 days and millions of positive cases worldwide, there are many things I think of. To myself. Loud between my ears. Alone in my house, where the walls echo the sounds of the netflix shows I’ve finished. Luckily my assistant, Winnie, is stuck here with me. She’s on the other side of the house but we occasionally pass by each other asking each other what lunch would be. If not for her conspiracy theories or questions about McDonald Trump (yes, that’s what she really thinks his name is) I might have gone insane on the first week.

Don’t get me wrong, I love this. I love the isolation but I hate it so much too. I hate our inaction. I hate the uncertainty. I love waking up late. I hate getting nothing done. I love the naps. But I hate feeling useless. I love spending time with my cat Sputnik, specially now that he’s older. I hate feeling so alone. I love realizing how insignificant I am in this vast world. I hate being so alone. I love eating at home again after more than 10 years, I hate knowing that I.AM.ALONE.

And I know what is triggering this. I get older again in a few weeks. And despite not celebrating, I want to be celebrated this year. Because I am alive. Because maybe for once, I deserve it? I probably don’t, but let me be delusional this once. I want cake. For the first time, I want cake. But I know that eating it will make me feel bad for those who don’t even have rice. I don’t deserve cake. See? The disillusions don’t last too long with me. I love the music I get to hear now, freely. I hate that the music is felt too much. I love the new sad songs I’ve discovered. I hate that the sad songs ring true, when alone.

Now my life has stopped. But I can’t even think these thoughts because, I am still physically here. the borrowed time I have is still running but I’m not doing too much to show I’m grateful for it. I love that even if many say this is politically incorrect, the world is recovering from the all the abuse we put it through. Have you ever seen the sky more blue?

I should be slowly sorting out my life by now, but my feet are up on my headboard as I type this on my phone that is dying from overuse. I love that the world seems kinder. People slowly returning to what I knew them to be when I was young. But I hate that we had to go through this to become kind and that there is a possibility we all just go back to who we are usually.

I love that I woke up today. But I hate that now more than ever, I realize that might not be true tomorrow. I hate that I have no one to hold as I grow older this year, admittedly scared of what is happening, pretending to be unaffected but scared. I hate that I am so alone. I only hope that staying inside will be worth it. That seeing my sanity ebb away, will pay off. I pray that we, the ones left behind, make it worthwhile.

The thrill of the next grocery run is keeping me on my toes. Ready to fly in the new, unclogged EDSA, every chance I get.

I now value and am very aware of the time I get to spend in silence. In this house, no one is talking. So thinking has become so loud, Unless you start training your mind to somehow tune your thoughts out, something I feel very guilty about. I’ve been living within these walls for 41 days now. I am creating my new normal.

my ceiling

It’s 2:28 am. I took a flight from Estonia to Frankfurt to Hongkong and finally home. It started snowing before I entered the airport. Beautiful.

I was excited to leave the cold but was also dreading reality. Which is stupid because I fly off to Singapore the day after tomorrow and then Dubai after. But my body felt it. And i think my soul was confused about what I wanted. So I got sick on my flight to Frankfurt. I had a migraine (which is so rare) and had the urge to throw up. So as soon as I landed in Frankfurt I looked for a Diet Coke. A bit pricey too at 3.50 euros but I needed it. So I chugged it in one go while looking for my next gate. I saw a sign for the lounge though and decided to pop in and look at the food. At this point a fever was starting. I went to the lounge’s toilet and splashed water on my face. An older woman told me I wasn’t looking too well and I decided to have a long, hot shower. I felt better after. I even got another Diet Coke. I found a heating pad that I got from Tokyo while rummaging for a charger. So I put that on my back and I was starting to relax. When they called out my flight number though, I felt it again. I had a 12 hour flight ahead of me and my head was pounding. I threw up 6 times before boarding. I was scared they would see how pale I was and might refuse me from getting on the plane (I think I was subconsciously hoping it would happen). But I did eventually get in and prepared my seat/bed. The flight attendant was checking on me from time to time (shout-out to the kind staff of Lufthansa)…this is the first time I slept through a whole flight. I usually watch movies on board but not today. I slept for 12 hours and woke up in hongkong. Super disorienting considering how different the HK airport feels now. It’s bustling with people but has a ghost-town vibe through the halls. I must have fit right in. I was gray in the glimpses of myself that I saw in mirrors. My legs were barely taking me to my last gate which was so far I had to take a bus. I busied myself with new books. I would lie if I said the books didn’t make me happy. They did. But when the flight attendant said they had to dim the cabin lights for take off to Manila and the pages of my book suddenly went black, I felt it again. The dread. The dread of leaving a part of me behind and not meeting her ever again. I was blessed with an amazing seat mate. A visitor from Switzerland in his 60s. We talked about his wife and my love for Zurich, our shared preference of the Shangrila hotel in Makati over the one in the fort. He distracted me from thinking about home. But as soon as we passed through immigration and I heard the choir sing Christmas songs in tagalog and English in NAIA I knew it was time to wake up. I said goodbye to him after he collected his bag, I was still waiting for mine… I realize now while writing this that I didn’t even get his name. What a pity. The drive home was uneventful. An hour on edsa for a trip that should’ve been 15 mins long. I listened to music I enjoyed while walking around Tallin’s old town and I pretended the aircon in my car was the cold wind in the Christmas market. I don’t know where this entry is going. Or why I started it. I’m just trying to make sense of my thoughts and the happiness of finally feeling heat on my cheeks or the sadness of missing my toes going numb from the cold. I am neither here nor there right now. I had thoughts of wanting to preserve every sight I saw the other day when I looked up at towers and buildings that looked like castles. But I know myself. I can’t even remember a person’s name 10 minutes after being introduced. And maybe that’s what’s making me sad. That I loved a new place again and won’t fully remember. And that in time, stories of this part of my life will change and will have different versions as I get older. We’ll see…

merry, ferry rides

Currently on a ferry from Estonia to Finland with my legs stretched out in front of me as I stare forward into a gray sky and an even grayer sea. I am very much aware that I promised movie reviews…I’ll get to them in Manila 😂 anyway, I’m just super physically tired right now but I refuse to close my eyes because I’d like to remember all of this, so I’ll stay awake by writing. It’s funny, I got a message just now from a friend asking if I’m alone. I am in fact alone, and flew here alone 3 days ago for 28 hours and am aboard a ferry alone while listening to babies cry around me. I have been alone for a while now. She told me that I’m brave. I probably am. But not because I can fly alone or figure out ferries alone. It’s easy to do all that with smartphones now. There’s literally an app for everything now. But I must say, even without the apps, I’ve never gotten lost yet. Not counting the times I purposely walk around cities, “getting lost” to discover places. But I always, always know my way back home. I’m thankful for that. I wonder now what makes a person brave. Because if I could be honest with you, dear reader, I feel anything but brave most of the time. I literally just teared up when the ferry left the dock. I was nervous when I went from Manila to Shanghai to Frankfurt and then Tallin, thinking I wouldn’t see my bags again. So what does she see in me? Is it being comfortable not talking for days on end, thus only hearing your own thoughts? Or is it finishing a full plate alone even if you’re filled to the brim or ultimately deciding to leave leftovers and live with the guilt of that for a few hours considering you’re from a third world country? Is it looking into strangers’ eyes knowing that they process their thoughts in different languages while they assess you? I don’t honestly know. I need sleep. And a scarf. I do know that I need to find a pharmacy and get vitamin C soon. And I will do just that, bravely. 😂

abominable

Produced by DreamWorks, watched tonight at 9:00 pm in Vertis North with my mom, 2 aunts and an uncle.

For the next few reviews I’ll do, I’ll add the cinemas where I watched the films because I honestly feel that the audiences in different areas react differently and that sways a persons opinion of a movie. Like if I watch Mamma Mia in Powerplant Mall where people are singing along to ABBA hits (true story) and a horror film in TriNoMa where people reaaally scream (based on experience), it’ll give me the maximum effect that I think the movie wants to give.

So yes, I watched Abominable in Vertis North which is apt, because the cinemas in Vertis North are notoriously cold. (Bring a thick jacket or a blanket when you go.) but it matched the movie perfectly because this animated film is about a Yeti. And for a 90s kid like me, this is a treat because I’m not too sure if millennials are familiar with the Yeti (also known as the Abominable Snowman) or the Loch Ness Monster or the Chupacabra. These mythical legends were always the main characters in books like “Goosebumps and tv shows like “Are You Afraid Of The Dark” so I grew up, fearing these creatures.

Tonight though, I was put at ease because director/writer Jill Culton assured me that logically, if an abominable snowman does decide to grace us with its presence, the Philippines might not be the first place it will go to. Since Mt. Everest is where our dear Yeti resides, he ended up in China which is close to Nepal, the Himalayas and ultimately, Everest. Now before you continue reading, I might unconsciously spoil some parts so if you plan to watch it, maybe return to this blog entry later on so we can compare notes.

First off, after watching dark and gritty movies these last few months, an animated film was the perfect choice for me tonight because I needed a breather. The movie starts off in China. And we follow the PoV of a teenage girl who busies herself with several jobs in a day, not knowing that an abominable snowman who was held captive has escaped and is hiding in her sanctuary-the rooftop of their apartment building. So they cross paths and the goodness in her heart pushes her to take him home.

Ok so I didn’t really spoil too much so far. Now let me enumerate my favorite parts…

1.) the movie called out this generation for being too busy to see what is in front of them. They even funnily put a billboard of Mt. Everest in front of Yi’s apartment and she would never have seen it if not for her new Yeti friend. There were also parts where the movie showed how some teens now are too preoccupied with their gadgets and social media accounts but this was addressed well when the three lead characters aged between 12-16 years old travel across beautiful but different terrains to bring the Yeti back home. And they did it well. These parts almost make you believe in magical powers again. I hope the parents who take their kids to see this appreciate those parts and take full advantage of them in teaching a few valuable life lessons.

2.) the soundtrack is amazing. Or maybe I’m just the worlds biggest Coldplay fan. (I am) from the start, they established that the teenage girl, Yi, is deeply attached to her late father’s violin. And she plays it well. The fact that the lead character is into music instantly makes the audience listen more carefully to the songs used throughout a film. And they had the perfect scene to play “Fix You” because the words of the song, fit Yi’s pain seamlessly. “Dreams” by Phil Beaudreau will make you feel the courage that they needed to make the journey…The violin piece Yi would always play almost felt nostalgic towards the end because you heard it throughout the film (maybe too many times). And the Yeti’s hum that summons his magic is comforting, like warm milk when it’s cold and you’re upset.

3.) there were many funny scenes. Watch out for the “whooping snake” and one guard’s quip when the snake goes “whoop whoop whoop” and he answers with “there it is” a quick and cute nod to Tag Teams “Whoomp”

4.) the villain isn’t who you expect it is. Most animated films tell us clearly from the beginning who to be afraid of. Like fire-breathing dragons, evil stepmoms, leprechauns, distorted monsters etc. But this film gives a little twist in terms of who the villain is and I found that really helpful for the kids who will watch this. It’s a clear warning to be extra careful when dealing with people. Not to be cynical but this is a reality they will learn later on anyway. (Ok yes that came off as cynical.)

And that’s pretty much it. I don’t want to spoil the whole thing, but those I mentioned above are my favorite parts of the movie Abominable. To give you an idea: I grew up in a household where my mom collected hundreds of animated films for me to enjoy…she kept classics from Disney to Pixar to DreamWorks even Hanna-Barbera movies! We had cartoons from the 60’s and movies that had mixed animation like the original “Pete’s Dragon” and “Bedknobs and Broomsticks” ( i do love cartoons!) And that cartoon filled background is why I give this movie a 3.5/5. A very close 4, but I’ll stick to 3.5! I would definitely recommend you to take your kids to see this and for you to enjoy it on your own too. I left the cinema smiling and looking for the movie’s OST on Spotify! 👌🏻