Climbing Mt. Maculot

Since it's summertime, I'm going to pay tribute to the great outdoors. At least in the Philippines. I've discovered this wonderful pas-time called mountaineering in 1999 when my sister, being the most adventurous in our family, convinced me, our brother and cousins to try it out. We started with Mt. Romelo in Laguna, or Famy, as it's most widely known. After that, we were hooked. I think it was just a few weeks after Famy that we next tried Mt. Maculot in Batangas. We were so awe-struck by "the rockies" in Maculot, that we always go back whenever we need to have our "climbing fix."

I introduced climbing to my husband right after we met, and he joined a mountaineering club in 2005. I wanted him to learn the theories first and the best way to do that is to attend a basic mountaineering course that is usually undergone by new members of a group. I was so ecstatic when he not only enjoyed it, but he now wants us to complete our equipment so that we can go solo whenever we feel like it.

In the summer of 2007, we had the familiar urge to climb Maculot again. This time, it was only my brother, my husband and me. We met up after lunch at the Cuenca market and were confident in reaching the summit in just a couple of hours. Little did we know that it wasn't going to be a walk in the park like all the other times we scaled this friendly mountain. To make a long story short, we got lost. We didn't know that the trail we took was eroded and just lead us to a dead end. We were joined by a group of first-timers too so it made the hike much more complicated. We had to assist each other in scrambling up the slippery paths that didn't seem to lead us anywhere near the summit. Before we knew it, it was dark. Climbing is hard enough in the daytime, so you can just imagine how doubly treacherous it is to do it at night. Loose rocks and soil made it a living hell for us. We had no choice but to pitch an emergency camp right on the trail.

In the end, we had cuts and bruises on our arms and legs. I have a pretty low tolerance for pain so I think I was the one who suffered the most. I don't think I will ever forget the sound of falling rocks hurtling past me, nor the feel of panic when I slipped and slid in the dark, not knowing if I'll be able to stop from falling.

You might think that I should've learned my lesson and to just stick to a less life-threatening form of recreation. I do love this sport though, and I'm not going to give it up any time soon.

tennis and bus-boys

Woke up an hour ago. Am thinking of getting an early start to my day. Here I am now, blogging away. I read one blog and got to thinking about tennis. The blogger wrote about a list of movies that involves tennis in the plot. I myself am not a tennis player, although I'd like to be. I attempted to learn it in 2006, with my husband (my boyfriend then) trying to transform me into a tennis protégée at the ripe old age of...let's not mention it anymore lest I embarass myself.

Needless to say, with him as my instructor, instead of learning how to play tennis, we inadvertently perfected the art of quarreling. I don't know if I was just too much of a sissy, or he was too hard on me. In any case, we stopped just before I learned the proper stance and forehand. Too bad because I think it's a sport I would've enjoyed a lot.

Anyway, I was thinking about tennis when the garbage truck came. I admire the people whose work is to clean up other people's trash. They are the metro aids (street sweepers), janitors, maids, and bus-boys, to name a few. To me, they are one of the unsung heroes of our time. How do you think they start their day? Are they eager to start their noble work every single day, or are they like the whiny office worker who can't wait for Friday to come along so they can unwind after a full week's work? Do they take pride in cleaning up the environment for all the other people to live in? I would, if I were in their position. I would probably try and make the more insensitive ones feel guilty for not being more earth-friendly in disposing of their junk.

Don't get me started on public littering that metropolitans all around seem to enjoy doing. Filipinos are especially notorious for this. I don't know if they will ever change their ways. Just walk through the streets of Manila in a day, and I tell you, it'll be quite an experience you'd remember for a long time. And I'm not just talking about the amount of trash you'll see, but also the various annoying habits you'll come across with. Sadly, public discipline is one virtue that I don't my countrymen possess. Hospitality, yes. Common courtesy, I don't think so. I think some people don't even know the meaning of it.

Maybe I'll elaborate on this some more in my other entries. If you'll excuse me, I need to get ready to do some grocery shopping. I'm quite happy to say that I'm bringing my earth-friendly green bag with me. This is one of my little efforts to help preserve the earth. I just wish everyone else would realize how these kinds of initiative go a long way.

time crunch

It's summertime in the Philippines. Not only is it scorching hot, but it's impossibly humid too. I want to go out and bask in the sun, yet I don't want to get too dark. I am looking forward to planning some fun activities for the summer. My dearest hubby's bestowed that task on me since according to him, "I don't have the time." Which means that since he's the one who works full time, and I'm the one staying at home, I'm responsible for all the planning, budgeting, and list-making.

Funny how working 5 days a week, 10-12 hours a day can do this to a seemingly normal person. He couldn't wait for the weekend to come along, and when it finally rolls around, he realizes that he's still hasn't done anything much to maximize that pocket of time. He blames me if we forget to buy something in the supermarket and I blame him for making me forget stuff because he's always rushing me.

I used to be this way too, when I also was a call center agent, working the night shift. We start work at night and get off in the morning, so it's like we go to work twice a day. At the end of the week, my Saturdays were spent just for resting up or readjusting my body clock. By Sunday, I'll then have to think up of creative ways to squeeze in as many activities as I can, so as not to feel like I've wasted a minute of it.

It's not that I'm complaining about being jobless. Not too much anyway. I know that most people don't even have the option of quitting their jobs. But see, you can only be a bum for so long, until you feel like you're a useless good for nothing piece of crap.