Rewind: The Vending Machine

Do you have a coin? I love coins. I love how they're shaped round and how they vary in thickness and diameter. I love how some are mint shiny, some with little dents here and there, even the ones that have accumulated respectable amounts of dirt & rust through the years. I love them. I love them all.

They may seem so common, so usual, almost superficial that you pay them the tiniest respect, but I adore them wholly; for without them, I would lose my purpose. Yes, they are the very reason I function. I'm a creaky, obsolete vending machine. I specialize in candy. Sweet & chewy. Hard & sour. With or without nuts. Caramel & nougat.  I have all sorts and you can have them all! But bills are beyond me- I need coins. Tingly and simple.

Yes, that feels good. Thank you. I see you've chosen a chocolate bar as you carefully push the buttons on my chest. 421. Snickers. Your confident touch is gentle, I like it. Something turns inside me, and the candy falls on the base of my hollowed insides and slides conveniently to my retrieval slot. You absent-mindedly snag and unwrap the goodie and take one delicious bite after the other... But wait, don't you want another one? Dark chocolate or almond perhaps? How about some gum? Hey... where are you going? Wait-

~ February 2008

What I've Learned from Driving in the Philippines

If there's anything I've learned from driving in the Philippines, it's that Filipinos are the most impatient drivers. Anyone who's ever tried driving through the city will immediately notice.

FACT: There's always someone trying to cut you off.

Lanes? Who cares? Forget everything you learned about lanes or how only the width of a single car can fit in one. Out here, 2 or even 3 cars can fit. Chalk it up to Filipino ingenuity. And as long as your car is not physically occupying a space in your lane, no matter how small, it's basically up-for-grabs. Filipino drivers, especially those driving public transportation, literally go nuts when they see an empty space in front of you. They must have it. Even if it only means they'll be closer to their destination by 2-3 feet - doesn't matter to them. Not even if traffic is at a standstill. Screw your space and screw you! If all else fails, they can always drive through the sidewalk. (Yeah, screw you pedestrians too!)

For someone who at least tries to practice courtesy on the road, it can be infuriating to be constantly screwed over by these undesirable folk; so much that you yourself end up adamant about not letting anyone cut you off. You then become accustomed and later immune to this road dynamic and after years of getting cut off and avoiding getting cut off, you eventually end up cutting off everyone else instead. Might as well cut or be cut, right? I'm afraid my highly-regarded road courtesy will deteriorate to that point someday, but I'm optimistic it won't. All you need is a lighter foot, some good music, some horrible singing and you'll be the happiest driver around. Eager and more than glad to yield to the cutters - yep, that name sounds about right -  the darned cutters.

Besides, blocking off a cutter is even worse. Not only do you set yourself up for a no-eye-contact contest - once the lights turn green, I guarantee you'll involuntarily participate in a mini drag-race with the alleged cutter. You then begin to tremble in a fit of rage, start to black out, and become a fuming road monster who refuses to be screwed over by this little bitch cutter. Around this point, a road mishap is likely; or if you're someone who likes carrying a pistol inside your car for some reason, this is about the right time to demonstrate your excellent marksmanship skills after several days of practicing at a gun range in Danao; OR ... both you and the cutter get away unscathed. You then drive home, eat dinner, brush your teeth, watch TV, and wonder if it was all worth it.

It's in your best interest to just be awesome and butcher all of your favorite songs.

Rewind: How His Father Died

I could hear the uncontrolled coughing from somewhere inside the house. I followed the loud cracks and my search abruptly ended in the bathroom. There he was- crouched with his head over the toilet, now coughing and vomiting huge amounts of blood, and he's cleaning it off with the frequent splash of water from his bucket. I stood there aghast, asking if he's okay like any surprised person would do, not knowing how to remedy the situation at that very moment. I am utterly overwhelmed with shock with each painful hack and crackle of blood from his throat, and the splatting sound on the floor. More vomiting. More blood. Only then did it dawn on me: I needed to get this man to a hospital.

He was still trying to clean the mess he's made when I tried to hoist him up. I could see what was running through his mind at that moment:

What would my wife think?
What if she finds there's blood all over the place?
I need to clean this up.
Damn cough.

I pulled his arm around my neck and told him not to bother with the mess-- told him to save what remained of his strength.   As we drudged towards the front door, I immediately felt his strength waning, like a baby finally feeling secured, nestled in the arms of a mother after an arduous task of crying for milk or warmth.  He was done crying. Somehow I provided the milk.

Once we got out of the house, he asked me to stop. He pulled himself down on the front porch and vomited blood some more. This time, he could barely sit up. I held him up when he told me, "I'm going to die from this." These words resonated in my head. Please, anything but those! My sense of urgency peaked, followed by a shot of numbing adrenaline, and I was able to carry him like I was carrying a watermelon. We headed to a neighbor's house and demanded we borrow his car. He offered to drive us seeing we were all bloodied up.

The ride was fast and noisy as we made our way through traffic. We were on the opposite lane mostly. Hazard lights on. Constant honking. The cars, speed, and noise were intoxicating as I occasionally checked on him, to see if he was still okay. He was breathing short breaths now. A few moments later, the car's horns stopped working- strangely. That was when I noticed he had lost consciousness.

It's going to be okay.
He's going to be okay.
I kept telling myself.

I was still carrying him when we arrived at the hospital. The emergency room. Nurses, doctors- who knows. I remember a nurse made the reach for his pulse and then said, "Nothing.  I think he's gone..."  Those words had never sounded so painful. She proceeded to ask me what happened and I explained everything; as if recalling each detail could somehow bring him back. I had absolutely no clue what else I could do. Waiting wasn't even an option. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. But my mind went blank. It shut itself down as it frantically tried to process what had happened.

The next thing I knew, I was in the morgue, sitting beside him. Crying. Talking to him. He looked as if he was just sleeping peacefully, and the illusion calmed me down a bit. I had to close his eyes with my fingers several times though, since his eyelids kept opening up. And as I did this, more tears came rolling down my face. I continued talking. Gibberish. I couldn't remember a word. I just kept on talking.... talking.... talking...... talking........

Death prevailed. It was bloody. It was short. It was impatient. It left me with nothing but a hollowed sense of helplessness before it, as it handed over my biggest loss.

~ October 2008

Rewind: I Find Comfort in an Old Tree

I find comfort in an old tree. It stands in the open, conspicuous and proud among the little plants and shrubs. It stands today at the exact same spot it did yesterday, and quite possibly will continue to do so well beyond my lifetime. I am happy to see it because unless the forces allow it to be stricken with a freak lightning in the next 30 seconds or so, I know that at least my chances are high that I'll see it tomorrow unmoved. It's a small consolation; a shred of comfort at an age where everything seems to dissipate without notice.

~ August 2009

What I Feel After Watching 500 Days of Summer for the Nth Time

"To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die."

I've come to realize there are two types of good films. One being your run-of-the-mill, critically-acclaimed, entertaining films; while the other not only shares the same qualities as the first, but also changes you. Such is the case for this movie. It alters moods, changes perceptions, and makes you feel its fictionalized world is somehow in tune with your own reality. And it helps that music is used to perfect effect here, guiding you through the different galleries of emotions throughout the film. It's a well-balanced examination of unrequited love, one that becomes more apparent on subsequent views. It's perhaps the best attempt at the subject matter by any movie.

Time and again, after subsequent views I emerge from it a little bit different. A bit altered. A bit off. A bit more grateful and enthused. And somehow a bit mad. It takes and gives back a piece of me each time, and it's remarkable to see such an exchange happen between a person and a piece of media.

It's been 5 years since the movie came out, and I've no doubt it will stand the test of time, never to disappear into the abyss of the post-contemporary. It's strangely depressing actually. In every respect a classic, the central characters are immortalized and frozen in time, always emanating youthful exuberance and delivering on the film's victory of fiction. The real world, in contrast, rots. And as the decaying world watches a joyful Tom walk through the park to "You Make My Dreams" and later joined by Summer huddled in a silly game of tourettes, we are eternally reminded of our own mortality.

I never get tired of this film.

500 Days of Summer: The Chronological Timeline

You must know that 500 Days of Summer IS one of my all-time favorite movies. For those who haven't seen it, it had a scrambled timeline to contrast between the good and bad days in the couple's relationship as well as to reflect how normal people remember things in the past - usually jumping from one memory to another and not necessarily in chronological order. Fortunately, someone was obsessed enough to put it together. All credits go to sunsjk @ IMDB for putting this up.

DAY 1: January 8, 2006 - Tom sees Summer for the first time as she's introduced in the department meeting. Instantly smitten.
DAY 3: January 10, 2006 - Summer is declared a bitch by the office grapevine, and Tom seems pretty neutral about it. Makes sense, as he doesn't know her yet.
DAY 4: January 11, 2006 - The elevator ride. We discover that the heroine shares his musical tastes and can sing. Hero doubly smitten. Onward.
DAY 8: January 15, 2006 - Office party for Millie's engagement, though the wedding doesn't happen for another year (see DAY 402). Tom and Summer finally have their first real conversation, successfully covering the exposition bases about Summer's move to LA and a little bit of Tom's history.
DAY 11: January 18, 2006 - Wii tennis with Rachel.
DAY 22: January 29, 2006 - Tom declares that it's off, though he's really just too chicken to ask her out.
DAY 27: February 3, 2006 - "The whole office is going..."
DAY 28: February 4, 2006 - Karaoke night. McKenzie outs Tom on his crush. Summer is more amused by it than anything, but her interest in him is finally visible.
DAY 31: February 7, 2006 - And that's probably why she kisses him in the copy room three days later. And goes to his apartment after work, then to dinner with him. The first official day of their romance, I suppose.
DAY 34: February 10, 2006 - IKEA, when things were so fresh and playful. Then sex. Sex on the fourth day of the relationship? I must be really old-fashioned.
DAY 45: February 21, 2006 - Two weeks in and they're talking and laughing on their cell phones at work, despite being 20 feet from each other. Ah, the silly things new couples do.
DAY 87: April 4, 2006 - Record store and shower sex. The movie skipped March completely, but we can safely assume our couple has only grown closer. Still playful and fun.
DAY 95: April 12, 2006 - Tom shows Summer some of the great architecture around town. I love this stage of their relationship, where they're just quietly in tune with each other. This is also their first time on the bench together, and both bench scenes have this soft, whimsical quality that I love.
DAY 109: April 26, 2006 - Tom's first time in Summer's apartment. Very telling that she was at his place on day 1 of their romance, but it takes him 2.5 months to see her place.
DAY 118: May 5, 2006 - Still going steady, though Tom's starting to question what they are. He goes to Rachel's soccer game and gets a pep talk there before driving somewhere with Summer, back in downtown LA. She sweeps his uncertainty under the rug, where it will fester later. Dun dun DUN...
DAY 154: June 10, 2006 - Tom's "I love Summer" montage.
DAY 167: June 23, 2006 - "I love us." Both still on Cloud 9.
DAY 191: July 17, 2006 - Art gallery date, followed by the movies. This is the only transition scene we get, the only scene that isn't completely their puppy love stage or their distance stage. They've been together several months and are probably bored of their usual routine, but can still have fun together.
DAY 259: September 23, 2006 - Bar fight. Big jump. We can only conclude that Summer has gotten increasingly bored with Tom, as she's only half-heartedly listening to him now. Somehow, she went from comfortable to disinterested in these two months. They made up and went to the park the next day ("Penis" game), showing that they can still get along, but the relationship is definitely different.
DAY 282: October 16, 2006 - IKEA, this time not so fresh and playful. In the month since the bar fight, they haven't managed to recapture their old magic.
DAY 290: October 24, 2006 - The movies (The Graduate), record store again, and finally, the breakup over pancakes. It was an 8-month romance.
DAY 303: November 6, 2006 - Tom receives the e-mail o' doom from Summer. It's that awkward post-breakup stage, where you try to act like friends and keep in touch. Such a horrible stage.
DAY 314: November 17, 2006 - Tom sees the French movie alone, still depressed.
DAY 321: November 24, 2006 - Tom is moved to the Sympathy department. His depression has lasted exactly 1 month now.
DAY 322: November 25, 2006 - "I hate Summer" montage.
DAY 345: December 18, 2006 - Blind date. Two months since the breakup and Tom is only slightly more functional.
DAY 402: February 13, 2007 - Train ride to Millie's wedding. Four months since the breakup and Tom seems to be his old self again. Sees Summer on the train, however, and immediately reverts back to schoolboy mentality. They rediscover their friendly, easy chemistry, which I thought was nice.
DAY 408: February 19, 2007 - Rooftop party. Sometime in the 7 days since Millie's wedding, Summer's new boyfriend has proposed to her, and she's accepted. (But even if she started dating him in, say, November, after she broke up with Tom, that still only puts them in their fourth month together. *whistle* When you know, you know, I guess. That was the point, right? :D)
DAY 440: March 23, 2007 - Tom's alcohol and junk food binge, even though it's been a month since he found out about Summer's engagement. Has he been in this state for a month?
DAY 441: March 24, 2007 - Alcohol and junk food binge continued.
DAY 442: March 25, 2007 - Tom quits New Hampshire Greetings.
DAY 450: April 2, 2007 - Tom goes to one of Rachel's soccer practices for another pep talk. Still pretty down, but he's found some solace in sketching again. Let the healing begin.
DAY 456 - DAY 476: April 8 - April 28, 2007 - Job search. At some point in these days, Summer's wedding occurs.
DAY 488: May 11, 2007 - The second and final bench scene. I think it happened, I don't think it was Tom's imagination, but to each their own. I thought it was a great conversation, and a necessary one for both Tom and the audience.
DAY 500: May 23, 2007 - Autumn. Finally.

Typhoon Haiyan : Communications, Relief, and Noynoy Aquino

Lining up the dead in the wake of Typhoon Haiyan.

Typhoon Haiyan slammed into the Philippines a week ago destroying entire cities and towns in several provinces across the country. After 5 days, people have started complaining about the slow response from the national government. Others were more apologetic, saying organizing relief operations for a catastrophic calamity, the likes of which were unprecedented, takes time. One such major contributor to the slow government response was the lack of communication.

To be fair, I personally remember November 8 (Day 1) - when only 3 people were declared dead. All local news agencies that remained in Tacloban through the typhoon were not able to broadcast their reports because it was simply impossible - not until Day 2. One would assume the gov't only started mobilizing relief operations then. And only then will the world know of the tremendous death and destruction left in the wake of Haiyan.

Tacloban airport re-opened on Day 3.

Anderson Cooper's CNN report came on Day 5. (Korina Sanchez's politicking a few moments afterwards.)

It's possible help only came trickling in between days 3 and 4 before any meaningful large-scale relief could be properly set up. Any criticism on the slow relief operations would seem natural then. Who wouldn't? It's been 5 days (4 days after communications were restored - for the news networks at least).

But here is where President Noynoy Aquino magnanimously came into the picture - with his bombshell of an interview on CNN, refusing to take any responsibility for the slow response and blaming everything on the 'unpreparedness' on the part of the LGUs (Local Government Units). Right off the bat, he declares: "The government's immediate response has been reassuring to the vast majority of our people". I don't know if he's talking about the victims in Tacloban or those comfortably watching TV Patrol's coverage in their living rooms (albeit filtered of anything that remotely resembled bad press for the national government, thanks to Korina's influence in the news program itself).

Amanpour: Some say your presidency will be defined by how you handle this crisis.
What do you say to tha...
Aquino: LGUs...

He continues: "...(we have) the ability to take care of our problems rather quickly".

This interview was happening almost simultaneously as Anderson Cooper was reporting live from Tacloban, as he ironically highlighted the disorganized and minimal relief efforts from the Philippine government considering 5 days have already passed while the dead still littered the landscape just a few kilometers from the airport.

When asked about the possibility that his presidency will be defined by how well he responds to the crisis, he wiggles out of the question and instead lambasts the LGUs in Tacloban as well as other towns/cities which were heavily hit with a big "I told you so" for not heeding his warning for proper evacuation. He is thoroughly convinced he has done nothing wrong and will not take any responsibility for the slow response by the national government.

I personally learned more about how his mind works in this single interview than in any other. He is proud and arrogant - as is expected from someone proud of the "Aquino blood" that runs through his veins. He will blame everyone before blaming himself, and most importantly - even in the thick of a national crisis - he refuses to blur the lines between political foe and ally for the sake of charity. He only sees the color yellow. (The mayor of Tacloban is a known political opponent of Aquino's.)

There may be rational reasons for the slow government response, but there is no excuse for a leader to blame his crippled constituents, specifically the LGUs who have suffered huge losses or are victims themselves, for not doing their jobs.

Neither is there a need for useless partisan politics at such a time like this.

The Walking Dead Season 3: Rick and Andrea have turned into idiots

I did my catching up on Season 3 and I just have to say Rick and Andrea are turning into real idiots. Especially Rick. I thought he'd see through that "deal" with Michonne. I initially thought he did when he addressed the group inside the prison right after his little meeting with the Governor. But in the next scene, we learn that he actually bought the Governor's lies. Remember back in Season 2 when Daryl told Dale the group was "broken" and how Rick ain't a fool about what Shane was up to? He certainly was a fool here, much like Andrea. I expected more from him.

As for Andrea, I did actually like her in Season 2, and her development from a grieving sister to a gritty husk of her former self was a fair indication that she just might be one of the last men standing in this whole series. But she's horribly written in Season 3. She went from being independent, willing to take her own life and let others decide on theirs (Beth) to practically being a gushing housewife and errand girl to the not-so-secretly-crazy-as-f** Governor. Despite the many warnings from Michonne, the crazy arena fights in Woodbury, the head aquariums in the Governor's office, Maggie's semi-rape, and the full disclosure late in the season of the fact that the Governor sent Merle to kill Michonne, she goes back, sleeps with him, yet still couldn't muster the strength to kill him while he sleeps soundly after one big orgasm, effectively putting everyone's lives at the prison at risk. She also carried little ass-kicker earlier, too. You'd think that would be motivation enough for her.

It's too bad. The show is gradually turning into one big soap opera populated with cliche characters thanks to some poor writing.

Surprisingly, Merle was well-written this season. He stuck to his principles - that is, being just the trigger-happy, crystal-meth-sniffing henchman of whoever's in charge at the moment, effectively grounding him, and being the central point of contention between the other main characters (Glenn, Rick, Daryl). And in my opinion, he had the best death this season (next is Lori's).

A trip to Sohoton, Siargao turns into a nightmare

Welcome to Siargao.

February 9th 2013

I'm never a fan of boat rides lasting more than an hour. This one lasted for two hours. So there I was, clutching my numb butt and deaf from the relentless roar of the 'twin' engines for the past two hours. We disembarked into this wooden reception 'cottage' at the Sohoton Lagoon in Siargao, Philippines. The scenery reminded me of Coron, Palawan, except this one had no rock spires. Just huge mounds of bush and trees sprinkled across the crystal clear waters. The sea water tasted like it was diluted enough to be drinkable, probably from the amount of vegetation surrounding the area. Nonetheless, despite the moderate drizzles every now and then, the place was a sight to behold.

The mounds of bush and trees at Sohoton Lagoon.

So, this reception cottage we were at served as the starting point for the tours in the lagoon. By my count, there were only two. We immediately dove into the first one, got on a small pump boat and went through a cave that could only be accessible during low tide. At the other end of which led to another area of the lagoon only accessible through the said cave. Our tour guide was talking about horseshoe-shaped stalactites, bats, and ironwood (allegedly the hardest wood in the world). I was busy admiring the scenery.

After a short ride, we arrived at another cave named Hagukan, which apparently made snoring noises as air rushes out of the cave during high tide. Because the inside of the cave was dark, the only source of light came from the water. This made human skin look like it was glowing underwater. At this point, someone in our group was already panicking from the dark of the cave and the deep water. We waited until he calmed down a bit and we moved on to the next area.

We were still on the small pump boat when we heard cheers and laughter from the other tourists around the corner. Apparently they were encouraging their friends to jump off a 12-foot ledge at the edge of a cliff. Most of those who did not have the nerve to jump were women, all of whom were on the verge of tears. One cried after the jump. Despite seeing the torture the others were subjecting themselves into, our group decided to do the same. But first, we had to get to the ledge. This involved having to pass through this pitch-black cave, do a bit of ridiculous spelunking to get to the top, and, since it was mildly raining, descend through mud and the roots from trees onto the aforementioned ledge. When I got to the ledge, everyone in my group had already jumped, except for my girlfriend. Yes, 12 feet isn't that deep and it did look like it wasn't that high when were still on the water, but being on that ledge made the drop look like it was 24 feet. My girlfriend was trying to muster up the will to shoot herself off the ledge, but her legs weren't cooperating. After a couple of (failed) words of encouragement, the tour guide suggested that I jumped first to show her that "it was okay". Once I readied myself on that ledge, I knew exactly what my girlfriend was talking about. My feet seemed like it had a mind of its own, trying to take control of my body and refusing the commands of my brain. I managed to jump anyway, and my girlfriend followed suit. She then declared it was one of the scarier things she had ever done. Little did we know what was in store for us later...

We got back to the reception cottage and discovered our lunch was ready, conveniently prepared by Charlito and Ivan - the father-and-son duo who drove the pump boat from our resort to Sohoton. (You're going to hear a lot about them as you read on.) Anyway, we had lunch, went on another tour to see harmless jellyfish that have been trapped in a lagoon. It was nice, but it wasn't as impressive as I thought. And there weren't as many jellyfish as I was led to believe. 15 minutes later, we were back at the reception cottage and we were ready to take the 2-hour trip back to our resort. It was 2:00 pm.

This was before everything went to hell.

BOSLOT

Around 2:30 pm we were at open sea. The group was still in good spirits, taking pictures and posing at the front hull of the "Jade Star Lodge" pump boat. The mood suddenly changed as the first wave hit the boat. Then it began to rain. We began to settle in our seats and switched to "alert mode", as each wave meant a slight ascent and an abrupt descent that gave us the "falling sensation" at the same time getting us wet from the resulting splash. This went on for a couple of minutes, and I could see the others had begun panicking. The look on their faces says it all, as they reached and wore the nearest life jackets. As for me, I was in a state of "it will be okay" and "would this bitch weather stop already!". I was horrified.

At around 3:00 pm, just as the waves had grown increasingly violent, Charlito motioned to his son, Ivan, to stop the engines since he noticed something was "off". He made his way to the front of the boat, opened a panel and slid inside. At this point, we were confused. A few seconds later he came out and shouted to Ivan in bisaya:

"NAAY DAKO KAAYO NGA BOSLOT!"

If you see this pump boat, run for your life.

I realize this doesn't happen regularly, but there was a HOLE in the BOAT I was riding in the MIDDLE OF A FREAKING STORM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN. How unlucky could we get? The water in the boat had begun to rise and Charlito advised us to get to the back of the boat as quickly as possible so that the hole in the front won't let more water into the boat. We were scrambling for containers to use as makeshift pails to throw out the water that was already in the boat. At one point someone was using a water bottle, submerging it in the water and waiting until it got full, and emptied its contents outside. Repeat ad infinitum. All this while we were inhaling the smell of gasoline and while the boat was being thrown around by the violent waves.

167

While we were busy with keeping the boat afloat, one of us realized we weren't going to make it through this ordeal without any help - so he called the caretaker of the resort we stayed at and asked for help. The caretaker promised to immediately call the coast guard for a search and rescue operation after they hang up. Still not contented, he dialed "167" on both of his cellphones. The first cellphone gave an automated response "you do not have enough balance to make that call, please reload soon" (Globe Telecom). Luckily, the call on the other cellphone went through (Sun Cellular)*. He frantically tried to explain our situation to the person at the other end, saying we were near Socorro (an island beside Siargao), and that they should send speedboats and helicopters to save our asses.

Overhearing the phone conversation, I do not know why I was still able to smile at that point. Maybe it was the thought of being rescued by helicopter, or maybe I wasn't fully aware that this might just be my last stop. I honestly knew no one was going to die. We knew how to swim. We had life jackets. We knew the wooden boat wouldn't sink to the bottom of the ocean. But still, at that point, my life and the lives of those in the group felt volatile. Like at any moment we could lose it. What's jarring about it was the weird casualness of the whole situation, and nature in general. It's hard to explain. In hindsight, the loss of life is devastating, yes, but when you're actually in the situation where you could possibly see the loss of life, yours included, it kind of felt like it was "ok" to lose it, even when it's clearly NOT, again, in hindsight. We were nothing but vessels about to be emptied at any moment, and we wouldn't care or even be around to worry about it. I thought if only I could tell those who would mourn my death that I was "ok" with it, maybe they wouldn't be so saddened about it.

Charlito eventually spots another pump boat on the horizon. So he turned on the engines and made an intercept course towards the boat. It took a long time for us to arrive within hand signal distance, and once we did - they threw a rope and Charlito tied it to the front hull. Clear communication was non-existent. You'd think local seamen knew how to communicate using hand signals, but these people did not. The people on the other boat (it was a fishing boat) thought our engine died and we just wanted to be tugged along to the nearest port. We kept screaming "BUSLOT AMONG BANKA!". At one point we almost capsized since they were headed in the opposite direction, making our rear end take in a lot of water (remember - all the weight was at the rear to keep the front above sea level). Now I understand how tragedies occur when people act on wrong information. It was such a disgrace to see it in motion at a time like that.

We kept screaming for them to stop and they eventually realized what was happening. So they turned around, positioned their boat so that we could get on it, which was incredibly hard considering the waves, but we managed to pull it off. Thankfully, all of us got onto the fishing boat without injury. The last thing we wanted was to see someone's face slam against the hulls of the boats.

We began to settle inside this moderate-sized fishing boat. A few of us cried. Others were in full blown sea sickness - dizziness, puking - thanks to the waves and the smell of gasoline. I was busy tending to my girlfriend. About thirty minutes later, and what felt like forever, we finally arrived at Socorro. The coast guard was there, and the rescue speed boat had already spotted our boat through the markings on the side, "Jade Star Lodge", being tugged along by the bigger fishing boat. We logged our names on the coast guard manifest and the speed boat took us back to General Luna, Siargao, where we were staying.

On the way there, the driver took a safer route through a mangrove area - a decision we welcomed since the last thing we wanted was to deal with another journey through treacherous waters. Despite the circumstances, it was the first time I've ever ridden a speed boat, and I was beginning to enjoy the ride. It just sliced through water and waves like a boss. The scenery was beautiful, and the sun had just begun to set. The others were beginning to lighten up for the first time since the whole "boslot" ordeal. And once we absorbed the scenery and got back in good spirits, we managed to take a few snaps with huge smiles smeared across our faces.

With the rescue team on the speed boat bound for 

General Luna, Siargao. Big smiles after the ordeal.

Our island-hopping route. Click to enlarge.

Taken 2 - Review

My first thoughts while watching it was feeling pity over this Mills family - especially for the mother and daughter. They could not be any more unlucky with two consecutive kidnappings in just a span of 2-3 years (I'm guessing). As an action movie, it works. But you'll have a hard time believing this much bad luck can befall a family. So much that as an attempt to pacify this string of horrible events, they toned down the violence to its hostages. For one, I always thought the face of the mother should be covered in blood- but we only see red smudges that barely resemble blood. Overkill averted. I felt the producers made a conscious effort not to torture Mills' family too much since it would become too ridiculously far-fetched for anyone to believe considering what happened to them in the first movie. Not that it isn't "far-fetched" already- movies have always been about shoving realism aside, but this was almost unrealistic even for a movie. Almost.

That's pretty much my only complaint. The rest of the movie is exactly what I wanted the sequel to be. The title itself says "Taken" so what did you expect? Neeson is bad-ass as always, and seeing this lump of testosterone interact with his divorcee ex-wife and love-struck daughter is a delight in itself. He is the glue that ties everything together, and I can't think of anyone else who could remotely fill his shoes.

Did I mention the movie was incredibly entertaining? 8/10