Busy. Busy. Busy.

Labor Day being held on the month of May is definitely most appropriate. My May is so packed with four different trainings, congresses and workshops. Both as participant and organizer.

This is going to be fun. Whee. (yeah, sure)

*****
Last night. Fare thee well party for Meh-Ann. Details either by Jerry or Tatit soon. Or maybe me. Who knows.

Carabao Island and the sidetrip to Boracay pictures!

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY

THE GOOD

It’s liberating to be there. If I went swimming in Samal Island wearing my halter top bikini, I’d get stared at. With thoughts varying from “bilib” to “ano ba yan? Feeling!” When in Boracay, others could hardly care less because it’s such a common occurrence.

It’s liberating to be there. To go wild with henna and glimmer tattoos. To have your hair in dreads or braids. To drink beer until you puke. To dance until your feet tire. To ogle at people who want to be seen.

Kang’s sister said it is a hedonistic beach. And it is. And we all need to get away from the claustrophobic moral constraints our own homes, our little societies have caged us in once in a while.

THE BAD AND THE UGLY

I wish I was able to go there in the 80’s, where it probably IS the paradise it claims to be. Imagine an entire 18-kilometer stretch of fine, powdery sands and crystal clear beach water lapping at your feet. The sound of the waves soothing to the ears and the sunsets a wonder to behold. That image gives me a thrill.

Unlike the one I saw last week. There were more heads visible than white sand. My disappointment lay deeper than Boracay looking like an amalgam of Malate, Quiapo and Greenbelt, except people were in bikinis and board shorts. Rather, it reminded me of how irresponsible stewards of creation man can be. We tend to get so excited about progress that we hardly have vision and forego thinking of the consequences of what we do.

Whenever I watch Discovery’s Travel and Adventure, I keep wondering why Boracay never get there when it’s supposed to be a premiere destination. I finally found out after being there. The place feels like a child’s lego set where the kid just puts anything anywhere he fancies.

There is no city/municipal planning at all. Hotels and resorts were like mushrooms on cow dung, just cropping up everywhere. Just like a squatters area, except these homes have stylish exteriors.

The ‘lumot’ or moss that we see in the water, I have learned from an interview with a marine biologist five years back, indicates high presence of coliform. And coliform comes from the e.coli bacteria which comes from… shit. Yup, shit. So when you take a dip in the lumot waters, it’s like taking a dip in a kiddie pool where the little tots still haven’t learned to control their bladders and instestines yet.

And I’ve never seen so much traffic in the water. Not even in the Manila pier! Ferry boats. Speedboats. Banana boats. Barges. Jetskis. Yachts. Going in and out of the place at any time. It felt like EDSA during rush hour.

Island tour boats also don’t take into consideration the low tide when they bring their passengers around the island, especially in the coral garden. While I was snorkeling, I could see the bottom of the boat almost scraping the corals. And some of our feet would also end up stepping on the poor sea creatures. How many of those who snorkel are actually aware that it takes at least ten years for a cm of coral to grow? Not a lot I bet.

I also saw a heartbreaking scene where an Ati in crutches was begging by the beachside. I felt a bit ashamed after realizing that the original people of the land were going to be relocated somewhere else (don’t know where). For what? To make room for more tourists? So the local government can milk more fat cows? Quite inhumane if you ask me.

BORACAY ITSELF IS BEAUTIFUL, WHAT WE HAVE DONE WITH IT DEFINITELY IS NOT. The local government of Boracay should take into consideration sustainable tourism rather than going all-out commercial with the place. Establishments, old and new, should not be given accreditation if they can not fix their sewage system. The number of boats (and maybe even tourists that come in) should be regulated and they shouldn’t be allowed to go to coral areas on a low tide. Regulations like that are important to make sure the place remains beautiful for our generation’s children to enjoy.

The site that greeted me when I first stepped foot on it, it was like cutting off the head of the goose that laid golden eggs.

But it’s not too late for Boracay. The beauty is still there. It’s just an already beautiful girl who decided to put on too much make up that doesn’t mix and match, ending up looking like 30 years older than her actual age. It just needs to take off some make-up, clean-up and slab some cucumber in its eyes for its true beauty to show. (Calling Boracay local government!)

Just trying it out. New friendster blog. Contains about the same thing I wrote below. Hmm... Anyway... testing lang naman.

I'M BACK!!!

From a one and a half week vacation hopping from Davao-Cebu-Iloilo(stopover lang)-Boracay-Carabao Island-Boracay-Iloilo(stopover uli)-Cebu-Davao.

It's another vacation to remember. Like my one in Sagada, in Ilocos, in Siquijor and now this.

I do want to get into the details of everything that happened for the past week, but I'd fill up an entire book just recounting everything that happened.

Suffice to say that with the company of great friends, a vacation will always turn out great.

Funny thing is, it was our one day in Carabao Island that proved to be most fun. When I got to Caticlan, my heart started sinking lower and lower after being greeted by so many telecom banners. And the feeling got worse when I stepped in Boracay. I could see more heads of people than sand. And the restaurants flooded the entire beachfront. The water was filled with lumot. Not my kind of beach at all.

I could rant all day about the environmental thrashing Boracay is getting from the overpopulation. I try imagining it without the people. A little better, but there are still too many shops cluttering the island.

Thank God for Lonely Planet directing us to that obsucre island across Puka Beach called Carabao Island. Where the only people in the beaches are locals. Where the sand is pristine white and powdery, and the water clear as crystal. We had so much fun playing on a makeshift raft with the local children.

The afternoon in Carabao Island was spent on a rented motor going around the place. From a hilltop to the beach to another beach to another hilltop.

And it was God making fun of our group. After our long wait on top of Tagaytay Point for the sunset and a free dinner from the vice mayer of the town... we invaded the deserted barge in front of our resort. Jerry, Sherwin (on my hammock), Lissa, Tatit and Ninin swung on the hammocks (baon namin). Jan and I laid down on the sleeping bag on top of the table, while Miah dozed off by the bamboo bench.

The stars speckled the sky. I saw an itty bitty shooting star. Some of them sipped ice cold pale pilsen. The hammocks gently swaying. Stories of the day exchanged. One of us quips, "this is the life." To which we all agree. Another blurts out, "it can't get any better than this!"

Oh but it can!

Out of the blue-black sky fell a shooting star the size of a baseball lasting for more than five seconds. Wow! Oh. My. God. I almost thought the world could have ended if the star didn't disappear by the mountain top. But it did. And we were all in awe. Congratulating God for once proving that it's His world to rule and that He will always find something better for us to see.

We could have slept there until morning if not for the nasty cough that broke the silence. And I didn't mind going in either. It was getting real cold anyway. So we bid goodbye to the Big Dipper, the full moon, Orion's Belt and all the other constellations. The sea sent a gentle wave to send us off to beds.

The next morning, I made it a point to wake up early to see the sunrise since our resort was on the east side of the island. In our swimsuits, Jan and I sat by the shore with Tasha (digicam) and Jancam (Jan's cam-SLR) to take shots. If yesterday's sunset was beautiful, that day's sunrise was majestic. I was glad I woke up for it (i never did, finding the early morning a bother). The sun came up the way it went down. A giant flaming orange red ball. I don't have words... just pictures. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.

A lot more of things to tell about. But Carabao Island was the ultimate moment of that trip. Having Jan along made the trip more fun too.

Will see if I can tell more. Pero... hay. Happy.

HRMPH.

After the flurry of events of the Pope's death, mourning takes a halt as I go back to the daily grind. There are times I'd shake my head how things just go back to normal easily when work requirements start pouring in.

The last three days was supposedly exciting as I faced new experiences, from uh... fulfilling harmless but illegal curiosities to meeting married all-time old-time college crushes (and finding out he wed a second-year lunch bud), I am honestly unstirred and numb. The reactions I have been giving were more to make things fun rather than genuine emotions.

It's so not me. Grsh.

And much as I try to get excited about the prospect of leaving for Cebu on Sunday and getting to Boracay on Wednesday, my mind does not seem to have enough room to make way for it. Thoughts of frolicking in my bikini (possibly under a pair of shorts and a spaghetti-strapped shirt) are often interrupted by area profiles I have to write down for my Saturday meeting or thinking what else I have to do before I leave.

It is so NOT me. Grsh.

Passions are definitely not burning right now. But at least the dispassion is. Yet I do not like the feeling of numb.

So... so, I don't know. I flee this office knowing there is still much work to do. But it has been my policy not to attempt overtime when not in the mood as it remains unproductive. Better rest my spirits just to make sure I have enough energy to write five more organization profiles, formulate questions for the evaluators and prepare for everything else I need that I am still unaware of.

Hmm... this is the first time I feel like I'm really, really working since January. I conclude I hate constant paperwork.

Blech.

EMBRACED BY THE POPE

Despite trying to comfort myself not seeing the papal funeral, I really really wanted to witness this historic moment. I got home around 9 pm with the hopes the local late night news would have something good (we have no cable).

While waiting, I was reading the latest Newsweek issue featuring Karol Wojtyla and was again amazed by his simplicity and sincerity. Despite being the biggest man in the world, he remained candid and unassuming, full of humor, filled with love for his flock and faith in Jesus. More than amazed, I was awed with such a beautiful heart.

Unfortunately, news started at 12MN. Tired from a long day's journey traversing Lake Sebu to Isulan to Marbel to General Santos to Davao, I was quite dissatisfied with the local coverage. How I missed cable TV then. At the end of Saksi, Vicky Morales reminds the viewers of the replay at 2AM.

Shucks. Since it was 1 AM, I napped a bit and alarmed my cell phone to 2AM. The nap didn't come. Every five minutes I'd turn on the TV with the hopes that the funeral mass would be showing already. But at 230AM, there was still nothing.

3AM came and the entire St. Peter's Square was shown brimming with people and devotees. Leaders from all over the world were sitting on either side of the Pope's very simple yet elegant walnut coffin. There were the leaders from Arab nations, Asian countries and European delegations (so Prince Charles actually cancelled his wedding to Camila Bowles). Pilgrims from Cameroon, Nigeria, France, Poland and small and big countries alike filled the Square. The entire world had their own funeral masses for this great, great man.

It was a sight to behold. A wonder. A miracle.

I was moved by this show of unity just to pay last respects to this man, who at 20 was orphaned. According to Newsweek, Karol Sr. wanted his son to be a priest. How much pride he would have had if he had seen his son a pope, and soon a saint.

But I fell asleep. The need of my body to rest overtook my soul's need to be one with the world, albeit a few hours late.

Then, I was in a garden standing by a young tree as if looking over the entire St. Peter's Square hoping to catch a glimpse of that beautiful walnut coffin (somewhat like that man who climbed the tree wanting so much to see Jesus).

Suddenly, from my back... Pope John Paul II in his red cassock adorned with gold threads and his Papal hat with those strips of cloth (what do you call it?) fluttering in the air, walked to me and asked:

"My child, your name?"

I was overwhelmed by his presence. NOT BECAUSE HE WAS A GREAT MAN, BUT BECAUSE HE WAS A GOOD MAN. His goodness engulfed me, and instead of making me feel unworthy, he made me feel deeply loved. Tears flowing from my eyes, I answered:

"Angie, Father (ngek, father). I am with Fr. Mimo Perez."

And HE EMBRACED ME. That famous embrace many who have encountered recalls so well. As I do now. He gripped my right arm and pat me on the back. He said something like "welcome" or "thank you."

And I woke up, crying. Feeling that healing touch linger on my arm. wow.

wow.

The funeral mass was already at the end part singing the requiem song in so many languages, with cardinals from all over the world blessing his casket, the entire Square in intense prayer. More tears came except it wasn't of sadness anymore. It was of a peaceful joy for being blessed by the chance to witness a great man live a life of witnessing Christ's own. It was of wondrous awe for experiencing the world united and at peace in homage of a singular man.

As the entire crowd applaused and shouted, "Santo Subido," gentle warmth crept my body. I felt love for the Pope, love for Christ. Peace and unity is possible.

Iranian, Palestenian and Israeli leaders shaking hands in honor for this person who sought to understand their beliefs.

wow.

Santo Subido. Saint soon. For me, he is a saint now. He was a saint then.

His passing is sad. But his life and his love for God is to be celebrated and emulated.

I am no devotee of any saint. But if and when he becomes one, I may just be. More than his intellectual achievements, his greatest gift to the people, Catholics and non-Catholics alike was his witnessing.

Pope John Paul the Great. Pray for us.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for the embrace. Thank you for granting me my wish of paying my last respects to you. Thank you for showing me being like Christ is possible. Thank you for showing the world we can be united if only we have keep our faith and we respect others.

You will be deeply, deeply missed as you were deeply, deeply loved.

Someday I will come and visit you in Rome and say a prayer by the foot of your tomb. And I know, I shall experience that embrace once more.

Totus Tuus.

Half asleep under my malong while the bus from General Santos sped by Digos, my phone rang to the beat of "I love rock n' roll." It was Erik asking whether I got to see the papal funeral. Unfortunately not.

It was actually one of my concerns before I went off to Isulan to get to Tubak in Lake Sebu to visit a community we were sponsoring there. More than seeing him as a Catholic figurehead, the Pope appealed to me more because of his faith, his genuineness and sincerity. He was someone I wished I could be, thus, his death moved me as much as his life.

I would have wanted to witness history unfold. But then as I told Erik, I would console myself with the fact that I was trying to live a life exuding the Pope's faith and Christ's love. So far from their own greatness and sincerity, each step I take to and from the mountains may just be a step closer to their own examples.

While reading the Inquirer, I had a sense of pride remembering the name of the program I am working for -- Pope John Paul II Program for Children's Concern. Again, like I told Erik, that would be a good motivation to love my job more.

I thank God to have given us the Pope, who led his life following and loving Christ. His life and death gave us a concrete mirror of how Christ was in His time. To know that THAT kind of sincerity and love and faith does exist and not something only a God's Son can do.

And Karol Wojtyla and Jesus may be feeling good things saints and Gods feel right now when the world is literally at peace and united today. As I am. Though I may not be a witness... the thought of it is beautiful and hopeful.

Pope John Paul II, Karol Wojtyla, has finally united with the Father.

Now that many stories are being revealed about him, I am constantly overwhelmed by his goodness of heart. And seeing the entire world weep for a single man... it is beautiful. The Father and the Pope are probably smiling with joy seeing the world united in prayer.

At the back of my mind, if the Pope was this good then I could barely imagine the goodness of Christ. Wala lang. Pope has succeeded in bringing the message of God then if I had a reaction like this.

Sigh. Thank you, Pope John Paul II for the service you have given us. You will remain dearly loved.

Hahahaha! Aliw.

Anj Bacaltos Resurreccion's Aliases

Your movie star name: Chips Alberto

Your fashion designer name is Anj Milan

Your socialite name is Hyper Miami

Your fly girl / guy name is A Res

Your detective name is Cat St. Scho

Your barfly name is Coke Margarita

Your soap opera name is Bacaltos Peru

Your rock star name is Nerds Flash

Your star wars name is Anjtin Resdar

Your punk rock band name is The Sleepy Oscillator

The Amazing Meganame Generator

The Pope is dying. I think this news isn't new to us anymore. There is a deep sadness I feel, almost on the verge of tears as I read the news. But then, having lost my father... there are times one has to let go.

His loss will be deeply mourned not only by Catholics, but other religions as well. He was a most charismatic man whose heart was genuine despite being seen by many through television. And for someone to project sincerity through screens, he must really be a good, good man. Sigh.

My other prayer is that the next Pontiff be as charismatic and as intelligent as Pope John Paul II was. The next Pontiff has very big shoes to fill.

Pope, we love you. Diretso ka na siguro sa langit sa dami ng nagdadasal para sa iyo. Pray for our country you loved.

*****

Norman Black is now coach of Ateneo Blue Eagles. Yahoo! I know you tried Sandy but there is still much you have to learn.