I was gonna go to work but then I got high

Dreadlocks courtesy of dreadlocks masterman Jake Louie Canedo



Today we’re having some sort of corporate holiday so I’m not going to work. I’m often late coming in but when there’s no work, I’m always the first one to not go. The timing could not have been more perfect, I already had two days off (the regular ones) and I’m just breezing smoothly through my third day.

I did a 7km run this morning. I wrapped my hair with a cloth because my dreadlocks often attract attention from uneducated people who always associate locks with marijuana, Bob Marley, and Rastafari. I’m really indifferent about them but what I really hate is their ignorance, I hate ignorance whether it pertains to hairstyle or anything else.

So after I did my run, I went out to Titay’s to buy some rosquillos. I have bought some Titay’s rosquillo’s a number of times before but this morning was my first time to actually go to their famous store in the town center of Liloan.

I like how mellow the light was inside, sort of reminds me of that Ernest Hemingway short story about a guy who always goes to this café. Anyway, there was a blind man playing harp inside the store. His eyes were closed softly—the muscles of his eyelids were as calm as a windless afternoon sky—, chin raised slightly up, as if in a solemn longing—yes longing, not prayer. A distant gaze with eyes gently shut.

A blue cup noodle container lay beside his harp, holding what a few people could spare for a solemn man’s solemn music. I don’t know if he played really well and if I just felt really good this morning, but I did want to stay longer there. It’s just difficult to find a place to stay there without having to look odd. I had the feeling that when you’re inside, you should always be checking on some stuff or asking for expiration dates.

I rode Russ’ trail bike on the way to the store. I normally would have taken my cross-country bike because it is faster on the road. I had a feeling though that the earth would swallow the road the leads home and turn it into a trail so I rode a full-suspension bike to buy biscuits. Better have it and not need it than need it and not have it, my friend Wagz once said. The cement road going home is so ugly, it would have more dignity if it was a trail. Well, I made it by and forth and nothing apocalyptic happened so I guess this will go one to be another easy day.

Yesterday I did a mid-range cross-country ride to Mulao, Compostela. I wanted to take a photo of myself that is a non-selfieand since no one was around, I invoked the help of the almighty self-timer. I feel overweight lately so I’ve been doing a lot of cardio riding.

Last night I watched the movie Mama while drinking Red Horse. I was like, why do these people go to scary places when it’s dark. Can’t they wait until morning? I also realized that when we watch horror movies, we’re more scared for the characters than what’s actually gonna surprise-pop on our screen. So horror movie-makers don’t actually bank on our fear of the unknown but on our overpowering empathy. Paul Bloom has a really nice video about empathy at YouTube courtesy of Bigthink.com so I’m not gonna talk a whole lot about empathy here.

Speaking of Bigthink.com, I read an article yesterday about how most people are engaged in occupations that they do not really like. So we spend a good deal of our day doing things that make us wish we were doing something else. Anyway, they wrote it better than that so I guess you guys should go to their website and look for it.

Being among the “most people” bunch of the population, I’m not very excited every time I go to work. I mean, I can have fun while on the job because I always find someone to bother, even if I don’t know them. Yeah, I’m Mr. Congeniality 2013. But when I actually have to work, that’s when it gets boring. Can anyone tell me if I should still go to work tomorrow? PS: Here’s a photo of a box of Titay’s rosquillos, it’s 49pesos each. Titay’s real name is Margarita, by the way. There’s some sort of a story about at the back of each box. I haven’t read it yet because I’m pre-occupied with this whole biscuit-munching thing.

Enduro Hits Cebu: Fourth Leg of the Enduro Pilipinas is Here!

Not a whole lot of beaching for me this August. Sands will have to make way for dirt as Enduro Pilipinas lands Cebu for its fourth leg. Enduro riding is not very new here in Cebu. There were a whole lot of elders who have ridden way before me. Before Google Earth has charted everything (except for the cloudy parts), we have had Cebuanos who navigated unknown terrains with the aid of paper and compass. All these trails we owe to the locals for their hardy footsteps that turned grassy hills into single tracks we now enjoy. Kudos!

I started all-mountain riding with friends I call the Gravity Gays. Some of them are no longer in the country and I have rest days during the work week so I often hit the trail alone.

Our main challenge as Cebuano riders is to overcome our friendliness and love for camaraderie. Often, the time we spend talking on the trail is longer than the time we spend riding. Who can help it? The poetic cliché of the shades of the trees, the gentle bending of grasses as the wind hovers over them, and the barely visible but inarguably beautiful view of a distant coast line—these all induce talk shows on the trail.

Anyway, I really don’t have a whole lot to talk about except to let you guys know that we’re gonna ride and nothing is gonna stop us. We’re rolling on the 25th of August, 2013 and we hope we’re not gonna regret it!

I Feel so A-Lime: Cantabaco, Toledo

My regular experience with lime involves gin, but last Sunday it’s rock-hard, million-year-old lime that I had. Flor invited me to the place, with a very empathic disclaimer: I wouldn’t have invited you but I’m very desperate for company. Okay, point taken. Friday, our sms conversation went something like this.

Flor: you wanna do rock climb?
Me: sure, when?
Flor: Sunday
Me: which Sunday? There are at least 48 Sundays a year
Flor: This Sunday

I told my Boss that I’m going to win the company’s fun run and I need a full day’s off if I am to do that. I did finish first in that 5k run but I clocked in 24.07mins., something I’m not too proud of because I was looking for a sub-20 finish. That's why I din't post about it on FB, because I'm surrounded by real athletes. Better run next time, I guess.

I got the Sunday off, alright. It has been centuries since I had a Sunday off, it felt weird. You know, not being at work and seeing how normal people go about on a weekend.

Anyway, the climb is in Cantabaco, Toledo. It’s about an hour away from my beloved, totally endeared Cebu City. We took the van-for-hire at CitiLink Terminal, which departs every two hours. Fare is at 70pesos, subject to gas price and wiles of the owner. There are also mini-buses that go to Lutopan and from there, it’s a ten-minute motorbike ride to the rock wall.

I prefer taking the v-hire because it passes thru Manipis, a narrow mountain pass which offers an occasional glimpse at some gnarly-deep ravine. Also, I find van drivers less reckless than mini-bus drivers. I hate to dichotomize but that’s what I see all the time. Plus, the minibus to Lutopan routes thru Naga, which is an even longer drive.

My first order of business when we arrived in Lutopan was to check on my right knee. It’s been loose for the past few weeks and I really should see a doctor. I mean, see doctors on tv or the net at times, but I need to do some consultation soon.

We were met by our guide Willard at the bus/van stop in Lutopan. I knew he was our guide because he was wearing a black Under Armor shirt. He’s a really cool guy and I’m gonna blog about him and his friends later, because I think I’m going to be a regular there.
The rock wall did not look impressive at all from afar. But when we got to the foot of it, that’s when it revealed its awesomeness. I have never set hands on that kind of lime. The wall is overhung, so no matter how much it rains it stays dry. That allowed itself to stay solid, barely worn out by the changing weather. The holds, pockets, and horns are so well-placed, it seemed like it was deliberately built by some professional rock climber.

But Cantabaco is 100% natural—it’s the handwork of thousands of years of rain and sunshine, built by the invisible hands of nature. There’s just so much beauty in Cantabaco’s serendipity. Gazing at it in its wholeness, it felt like the walls hold a universe somewhere inside.

We did three routes that day. The last one ripped every muscle in my body. They call it Vina Kulafu. They said it was named after a great climber, Vina, who drank lots of Kulafu before doing the climb the following morning. She’s a legend in the rock climb scene. It took me ten minutes for remove my harness after I did Vina Kulafu. My forearms felt non-existent at that time.

Flor did a really great job herself, having conquered two routes and making the first portion of Vina Kulafu despite being sleep-deprived. She had to work night shifts at times, being a pharmacist. I guess two hours of sleep is only good for two routes. She took most of the pictures because my camera went dead. I mean, I did charge the batteries but I guess double a’s are really no good. She had to upload the stuff too so I can get them so kudos to her for the photos.

Willard spider-ing down the wall

Willard's son doing the lead climb. He's a nursing student when he's not here.

Yours truly, struggling and shying away from the camera.

Flor, smiling before the suffering stages.

Enie the great, giving instructions from downtown.

My friend says I'm more photogenic as I go further away from the cam.

Thanks a lot, Snake, you’ve ruined my ride

This entry is for snakes. If you’re not a snake don’t continue reading. This whole thing only makes sense to snakes. I was riding Panas downhill track, feeling the universe and the weather in harmony for a perfect ride. And what do I find in the middle of the single track? A Snake ™ chillin’ and going about his business blocking my way. At first I thought it was a VHS ribbon. It could easily have been. It could have been the 15-second clip of Jack and Rose kissing, or it could have been Zorro jumping on to his horse, or any loose scene dispossessed of its wholeness. But no. It’s not a VHS ribbon. It’s a snake chillin’ the afternoon away on my favorite downhill track. That got me mad. (Actually, I was ice-cold scared when I was there but now that I’m far from any snake-ish danger, I’m brave enough to be mad.)

That’s right. I’m very mad right now for the snake for being in the wrong place. If it weren’t for the menacingly familiar glaze on its skin, I wouldn’t have know. Plus its fleshy, scaly belly sneaked right up in the middle of its four-foot frame. That thing could have bit me if I hadn’t noticed it. But I had the sense to get off my bike several feet from it. Then I held my bike on the saddle and pushed it way ahead of me to do the honors of introducing our presence to the snake. I can’t remember exactly what happened, but I assure you that I didn’t close my eyes. My brain just probably froze, or something very close to that.

But I did see the snake dart right back into the bamboo neighborhood in literally a second. I didn’t know how the guy did it. His head was like on the other end and he made a u-turn so fast and sleek, he could have been some race car superstar. Good thing he didn’t make his way towards me. Or I would have been bitten me before I realized that I was really bitten.

I just feel very strongly about this whole snake business. I mean, I’m thankful that he did not bite me. But what if he did? It would be very wrong to bite a guy just because he gave you the scare. For all he knew, I was more scared that him. I just don’t have the guts to bite first. Dear snake people, why would you bite a guy for scaring you unintentionally? Where are your manners? I know this whole territorial imperative thingy has always been an evolutionary fad. But I like my personal space just as much as you love your own territory. We’re practically on the same page so why do we even have to bite each other?

You guys think you’re so cool because you have venom? Well snake I’m cooler than you because I got dreadlocks. You don’t even have a single hair. Being bald is not cool unless you’re the lead vocals of an alternative band and can sing “The Scientist” really well. Dreadlocks win any given track, any given day.

You've ruined my ride. The whole time I felt some of your homeys would pop right in front of me. So let’s stay away from each other. I’m gonna keep riding my bike and you keep chillin’ where nobody can bother you.