Tacloban City, July 1, 2007

Blogging is like water. It seeks its own surface. Or like Sprite, that you have to quench your thirst for it. (Was it really Sprite's ad?) I will explain what I meant by this later.

Being in my hometown after being away for many years in another adopted city, gave me a different kind of pleasant experience. Being home has now become an experience and not the norm of usual feelings. So I am in Tacloban. Coming here earlier for an official trip in Samar tomorrow, just so I could attend the Tacloban fiesta, see friends who have come home too, and just see how the place has become.

The fiesta first. It's still a circus. Or more appropriately, everything has been blown out of literal proportions. Traffic has increased many folds and all available spaces where filled with parked cars. And any space in between were littered with people who have seemed to have come from some spontaneous combustion. Any more spaces in between were only enough for oxygen to float so these people could still breath and live. This is so unlike the fiestas of the late 80's where there were still actual spaces on the streets where we could still pass.

There are some pleasant surprises in Tacloban; some gustatory delights are now available in restaurants like Ocho, Stephanie's, and of course Bo's Coffee Club and Gloria Jean's. There are good establishments and nice new buildings with attempts at some urban architecture, though not really much, but the effort at trying is worth a whit of commendation. There will be hope in Tacloban's urbanesque future, I suppose. However, the inner roads of downtown is still potholed and tricycles of the wee types are still the legit commuter facility available.

Then seeing the grounds at the RTR plaza had me dismayed. Imagine this: the plaza is probably a hectare-wide and the City government (have they?) put nice and pretty water fountains all around the plaza. These fountains have different shapes, sizes, lights, figures and I bet there are stories behind each unique fountain. So I find it nice. Really nice. I actually saw it first on Patricia Evangelista's TV show when she featured Tacloban. I liked the fountains. All of them. But to my dismay, the city government has allowed talipapa, tiangge, beer joints, stalls, etc etc to fill the entire plaza and the fountains have gone lost in the madness of all these structure and people. The hell?! Here was an attempt to put sanity to the city by putting some art and architecture and the next moment, the city allowed the place to be turned into a marketplace, ukay-ukay style. I wanted to eat all my cuticles and knuckles alternately in anger and desperation at this very conflicting situation.

Earlier after lunch at our Ninang's house along the former Imelda Avenue, there was hieghtened excitement at the avenue. "Adi na hi apple of the eye! Adi na hi apple of the eye!". I looked at my brother in law quizzically and he said, "That's the Congressman-elect of Leyte's first district Martin Romualdez, on a convoy throwing apples for the bystanders. The apple of the "apple in the eye" was the literal gift-giving of apples as his campaign slogan. The Congressman was in Barong (with bodyguards) looking coño amidst a sea of indios. Doña Victorina would only be too pleased at the sight. Yes, this Martin is the nephew of the Imeldific; his father being the former First Lady's brother.

So, why the introduction? After the apple-throwing show, I didn't have anything to do. So I saw this idle PC and was too pleased to see some active browser with an active internet connex. I logged in to my Multiply and got to read the thread of comments on my Meet the President post. I realized I was a nut for automatically turning in my Multiply mode at the slightest chance with no provocation. Feeling and realizing the shame, I logged out and proceeded to behave as the fiesta guest expected of me. Whew, I said, blogging is like water, it seeks its own surface for an even keel or level, satiating the thirst for that glorious feeling of tap-tapping the keys and organizing thoughts into words and seeing it print on screen.

To save myself from further delving into the internet, I left. I joined College buddies Adonis (who came from Manila), Rey and son Jaden (who came from Chicago) and Joboy (who just arrived from Manila that morning). Yes Greg, you in Malaysia, you were lacking in our group. I should write about meeting these best buddies from College and our sort of reunion. We were like pigeons, homing in to base camp after years of flying and hovering in lands far and distant.

And geez, this Multiply sorely lacks a feature where I can note the Music Playing as I write this. So I can write "As the Music Play" by Matt Monro. No, it's not my kind of music, but it's what the music at the sunday radio show of the neighbor is playing.