Potipot Island

In a country with 7,101 islands, there are about over 30,000 beaches here, some more popular than others. I've ventured into the popular ones and I am not impressed with the commercialism of Boracay, Palawan or Puerto Galera. I like secluded beaches more, so I cajoled my college buddies to go with us to Potipot Island.

It was a 6-hour drive (we got trapped in Holiday Traffic) to Uacon, the mainland that faces Potipot. Uacon is a sleepy town with very modest accommodations. There isn't even cable TV within miles. And the sand is very soft and fine, though very dark as well, almost black that when you're swimming in it, it feels like you're swimming in mud.

Sandra had a great time though, she played with the sand and made "mud pies". I guess I need to be thankful for her ability to make do with what's available, since TV nor toys were not at her disposal.








But at least Potipot island is just a kilometer by boat. In fact, it's within view from this beach.



So we took a P400 (about US$10) boat ride to the island. The boat is a rickety thing made from plywood and bamboo. I didn't take any chances and insisted that Sandra wear a life vest. The vest was something I brought along. Life vests and safety gear ARE NOT AVAILABLE in this province. Case in point, we are literally hanging on the boat with our butts because there were no proper seating and we just leaned on the banca's edge.


Potipot is a stark contrast to Uacon. Take note that it's just a kilometer away, but the sand here is pristine white. On the background is the banca that we rode on, and the mainland of Uacon, Candelaria.



There is absolutely nothing in Potipot. No resorts, no electricity, not even a bathroom. It's just a secluded mushroom -shaped island of misplaced trees and white sand. It is serenely isolated, which made the 280km trip from Makati worthwhile. Unlike Boracay, no one will try to sell me stuff while I'm on the beach, and there aren't any giggly honeymooners either. Just perfect.

One of the few pictures of me and the girls together. In reality, we took a second to pose and then just ignored each other the rest of the time. Everyone had a thing. Trish wanted to bake herself in the sun. Vecs wanted to explore inside the island. Sandra wanted to build castles, catch hermit crabs or snorkel. I just wanted to breathe it all in. Oh the blue ring right at the edge of the water is where the sand disappears and one just drops to infinity.

Surprisingly, Sandra took to the water immediately. I expected her to chicken out when we saw that it was too deep, but with the vest and a wakeboard, she seemed very confident. I didn't take chances though. I was swimming close to her like a mama whale next to a calf.



Though the bad thing about playing mama whale is having this for a constant view -- Sandra's side. There's really nothing much to see down there, since I may need scuba gear and a diving torch if I really wanted to see what's in that blue abyss. Besides, in this deep water, Sandra safely swimming is a much better view to me.



I'm really glad we made that trip. But I sort of regret taking this picture. Because now, I really do wish I was there.

My Christmas TV Ad

Whoever said that truth is stranger than fiction must have led a pretty interesting life.

Several months back, we were tasked to create a Christmas campaign. I've then fumbled into making about 20 storyboards, all of which got disapproved or deemed too cluttered or usual and just ended up as yesterday's recycled paper. But on the last stretch of presentations, I just asked myself what was Christmas supposed to be...

I reviewed my life the past year, and wrote it down. Told my boss, "here, this was MY Christmas." It wasn't entirely sad, but not happy either. They loved it. The clients loved it. People around the region loved it. And for a country/society that shies away from the thought of divorce or separation, I'm quite relieved that there was good feedback.

So guys, here's a semblance to my autobiography.



By the way, this is the project that had post-production in Sydney. Directed by multi-awarded Aussie director Kriv Stenders.

DOWNSIDE: At the office, I got either really odd, sympathetic looks or eyeball-rolling and comments like "get over it already!"

UPSIDE: This spot actually made Sandra feel good. It made me feel good as well. It also got the highest scores in consumer research. After the hours of overtime work, I just got a pat on the back.

Birthdays, Mothers, Daughters

Sometime on the last week of September, the dreaded day came. Not that I'm dreading about turning a year older, but because just like a senior in college, I am cramming to fix the rest of my life... You know how all those school projects, case studies and thesis made you think you knew everything? Well, turned out I didn't. And in the school of life, just when I'm half-way through, I shifted to another course.

But before I blab about how I'd be planning the next three decades of my life, let me focus on this day.

Nanay (my beloved term for my Mom) called me up at 6 am just to make sure she greeted me first. I guess if there's anyone who shouldn't forget a birthday, it's gotta be the woman who gave birth to you. She asked me what my plans were and I said I had work that day. Also told her I can't splurge, since my quarterly rent was due end September.

I could tell by her silence that she felt a bit sorry for me, and she went out of her way to say maybe I should go see you today. I didn't want to be responsible for the elevated blood pressure she might get travelling from Kalookan to Makati, so I said I'll just see you on the weekend, mom.

"But you have to celebrate your birthday. I always did, even when you're not with me" her voice cracked.
Translation: You are my baby and I'm glad I gave birth to you.

I guess it's a less obvious way of saying she loves me. And that alone warmed an otherwise stressful day.

Now for the other female in my life. Sandra was jumping around all week saying she had a gift for me. That morning, she presented a nice little parfum with a vanilla scent. Personally, I prefer citrus or clean scents rather than sweet ones. But she said she picked the perfume herself, and this is how a Mommy should smell like. And I wouldn't want to debate on the taste of a 7-year old. Especially if it came with intricate gold wrapping from Rustans. I thanked her and texted thanks to the Ex as well (no doubt, he paid for it).

But what really got me was this... The birthday drawing. She started doing them for me since she was two, and I've looked forward in receiving them, and seeing how the artwork improves with each year. And being in 2nd grade, and only given pencils, crayolas and craypas, she thought of it as a special grown-up treat to use the "forbidden medium"... Colored ballpens. I must say that it does look nice on my cubicle wall.

That night, we ate at TGI Friday's. Just Sandra and me. She had the kiddie platter, I had the Santa Monica Nacho Crusted fish, which was surprisingly excellent. Extra crispy and spicy on the outside, and melt-your-mouth Dory Fillet on the inside. Sandra even got envious and kept forking my fish. We topped it off with an Oreo ice cream sandwich and pretended it was a cake.

Then she said to me, " Can we tell the waiters it's your birthday? I want them to sing for you."
I replied "Never mind, baby. I'm a bit embarassed because there's only the two of us, it's not like we have a dinner party or anything".
And then she hugged me and said "Oh mom, you think too much."

Losing Innocence

With the brouhaha over Disney girl Vanessa Hudgens, I would say she's not the only one who lost her innocence.

Last week, my daughter clicked the Internet Explorer icon and out came the MSN homepage. And on the headlines, she read DISNEY BACKS VANESSA HUDGENS NAKED PHOTO. As she was reading the article, she asked a barrage of questions:
Mom, isn't she the girl in high school musical?
She has a photo with no clothes on?
Oh, she wanted to give her photo to a boy... To Zack?
Is he her boyfriend?
Do boys like it when they see girls naked?"

Not really wanting to lie, I just answered as matter-of-factly as I could.
Yes.
Yes.
I don't know.
Maybe.
The last question, though I struggled, I answered Yes.

Ohmigawd. I am totally unprepared for the day that she would ask sensitive questions about sex. But I'd rather she asked me, than go off researching on the net.

"Mom, I feel bad".
"Why?"
"Because I thought she was a good girl".
"Well, it doesn't mean that she's a bad person, baby. People make mistakes. Her mistake was not thinking of consequences".


Sandra did look disillussioned. Nobody likes to see their idol defamed. It's as bad as the Jollibee Mascot sex video joke.

"Mommy, anyway... how did her boobies look like?
That I didn't answer.

Dear Santa

Another cheap thrill. My daughter is one of the kids who voiced for this Radio spot. I'm so impressed with her, she has done TV, print and radio at age 7. And I swear, I had nothing to do with it. :-)



Note: For some reason, the video plug-in has bugs, depending on the browser. For this reason I switched from Safari to Firefox. Holler if the video (well, radio ad) doesn't play.

Two Seconds of Fame

Well, not really fame. Sort of like a really cool cheap thrill for me and my daughter. Here are a series of ads for car headlights released in Manila Bulletin last August 25.

Jesus, You've Got Mail.

I've mentioned before in an earlier post about wondering why and how did Sandra's teachers and guidance counselor took a special interest in the fact that her parents are separated. And now I know why.

Went to her school for Parents' day. The ex and I agreed (well, we fought first. sigh) that I should be the one attending it, you know, to avoid making a scene. I was late as usual. The classroom was already packed with earnest kids and matching doting parents, the sight that would be teeth-tingling if I totally lacked any wholesome Brady Bunch family empathy. I was alone, but okay. Maybe just a wee bit envious, but I thought if I can just go through the motions as quickly as possible, this event would be painless.

Or so I thought.

There were lots of cards displayed on the class bulletin board. Parents' day cards with a Dear Jesus letter. I thought it would be a great idea to go scoot over there and look at 'em cards and avoid socializing altogether. I caught the teacher making a sideways glance at me as I approached Sandra's card. And before I could say Holy Press Release, I caught The Dear Jesus part in her missive. I don't want my parents to have problems and pls try to put them together and love each other agin (sic). Talk about bringing in the big kahunas, my daughter is now asking Jesus what she couldn't ask me. The thing is, THIS card isn't a personal letter, it's a class project for the teacher, the whole class and all the other parents to see. I glanced at the teacher again and she smiled at me. Hmmm... So this is what it feels like to star in your own reality show. LOL

At home, I asked my daughter about the card, and she told me not to worry about it. "Besides, I asked Jesus, Mommy. Not you. You don't have to do anything about it".

I wish it were that simple. I wish I can call on divine intervention and have my prayers answered. But even the most pious of people cannot afford to have that much faith, or be just fatalists. And oftentimes, people being human, would pray for the wrong things anyway, and God knows (if and when he's listening) if he'll take these prayers seriously.

I thanked Sandra for the prayer. Yes, maybe Dad and I shouldn't fight anymore. I'd pray for that. But right now, just that.

The Trip to the Guidance Counselor

There it was, a note on her student diary. She has been interviewed by the guidance counselor again. Those words filled me with apprehension. What do they want with my daughter? Much as I'd like to think of her school as just another mass money-making educational facility, I am slightly pleased, surprised and yet scared -- yes, very much so in fact -- that they have taken an interest in my daughter's psychological well-being. An interview means they're making assessments. Of what, I have no idea.

So I asked her. She replied carefully, in short sentences, as if she was focusing on keywords and thinking about editing them if I make the slightest wince. They talked about her favorite subjects, where she lived, playmates if any, etc etc etc.

I was cutting pictures for her art project and I was hoping to keep my hands steady. I'm quite certain they asked about me, about her Dad. For crying out loud, they have 13 sections on the 2nd grade, why this particular interest on my daughter? They must be taking into account that she's a product of a broken family, and therefore needs special attention. And I was right.

"Mommy, there are three of us in my class who have separated parents, and they talked to all three of us", she said. Aha. Oh well, I expected that.

"So what did they say to you?" I asked.

She smiled and shrugged, "oh stuff I already know. They told me IT will be ok. And I already know that".

I hugged her. Yes, darling, it will.

Beauty and the Bully

Last night I asked her, "how was your day?" She looked at me, shrugged and said it was ok, just an ordinary day. We then did the mommy-daughter bonding thing, took her scooter around Salcedo park and I bought Hi-protein bread at Delifrance. We laughed at the cute Korean kids who raced their neon scooters around, then we headed back to the flat. Had dinner and then I gave her a bath. While scrubbing her back, I told her how much I love her and how precious she is to me.

She then had this pensive look. And then she said "I want to tell you something. But please don't be mad".

As every mother would know, a line like that braces you for something. But I put my protective gear down and put on a friendlier face. She then proceeded to tell me that she saw an old bus mate at school, one that used to bully her and she thought she'd never see much of again.

Last year, she must have wanted not to add to the domestic problems (the separation) and decided to keep the bullying all to herself. This Bully would put trash on her bus seat and that would force to her to stand up the whole ride from school to the house. When she told me this last year, I fumed and cried. She was only a 1st grader, 6 years old, and the bully was on the 5th grade, She's technically still a baby compared to him. I ranted about how rude this kid was and how inconsiderate and I would talk to his parents, etc etc. But Sandra just said "It's ok Mommy. I'm on a different school bus now. I won't see him again. Besides, I don't even know his name."

"Anyway, so what happened today?" I asked.
"I saw him again, he was with his friends" she then reminded me "Mommy, don't be mad, ha?"
I gave a non-committal shrug hoping for all the patience in the world to be bestowed upon me.
And then she said the Bully saw her and yelled "Hey, let's go kick her bag!" So they kicked her pink stroller around like some football in the school corridor. Her stuff got sprawled on the floor, and they laughed as she picked everything up.
"So what did you do when they did that?" I asked, my voice trembling.
"I said something bad." and then tears fell from her beautiful eyes "I said, YOU'RE A JERK! GO TO HELL" and then she sobbed in my arms. "please mommy, I didn't mean to say something bad, I'm sorry..."

The first thought in my mind was how much of a good person Sandra is. That she actually feels guilt for cursing someone who wronged her. The second thought was motherly rage. No one has the right to do this, especially to a much younger child. But it wasn't the proper time to be mad. I first have to be my child's rock. So while holding her close I just said "Honey, we have to be smart about this. So no tears. Don't get emotional. When he does it again, let him kick your bag as long as he wants to. Make sure other kids witness him do this, But meanwhile, find a way to get his name -- on his name tag, on his school stuff, just get his name. Then Mommy will take care of the rest."

I cuddled her to sleep. I prayed for strength. Thanked my lucky stars for having a wonderful daughter. It broke my heart that she has a cruel world to face. But it makes me feel good that even mean people couldn't change her.

Stumbling Upon a Secret

Had a tiring day and arrived home late. My little girl is fast asleep, with her books and notes sprawled on the bed. She must've been studying for her exams (and for a 2nd grader, she seems to be getting a lot). I was fixing her things when I saw this.



It was a homework for her Christian Living subject, that asked to make a letter to somebody. She never showed me the letter. Regardless of its brief thought, I can feel it was all heart as I was reading it.

How wonderful it is to be loved. :-)

My Toothless Wonder

Alright, she's not completely toothless. She lost just two of the pearly whites. But that didn't even make a dent on her charm.

It's a Sunday and I was in a shoot at Gama studios. And because Sunday should be a sacred day for family, I had Sandra picked up from the condo. She just came from her Dad's house (weekends being his time with her) and I know she would complain if she arrived home with no Mommy in sight.

She arrived, her usual bubbly self minus two teeth. This is the first time for me to see her like this, because she had her teeth extracted with her Dad just yesterday. I felt a sharp pain of regret that I wasn't the one with her during the extraction. As a mom, I felt it was my duty to hug and console her, especially since my own childhood memories of tooth extraction were traumatic ones. But for some reason, Sandra knew she had to lift that emotional burden off me.

"No Mommy, It didn't hurt, not even with the injection" -- her words of bravery

"I look like a baby, don't I?" -- obviously, this child is not too self-conscious about losing teeth

"This is free, we used the (HMO) card." -- at least, she's in touch with my financial situation

"Can Daddy keep one tooth?" -- playing Solomon and splitting herself between me and her Dad

And while other kids would shy away from getting their picture taken, she gamely posed. A proud survivor of the dentist's chair and not afraid to show it. My beautiful daughter... Yes, there is a God.