Something Is A-Brewing...

What's wonderful about keeping a blog is that not only do you save memories, you can also keep track of yourself.

While I read back through my blog, wincing and cringing from from self-embarrassment from some of the old posts, I realize that I am almost no longer the same person who have written those posts anymore. -- I changed. Which is a good thing. Probably.

But I guess that is to be expected. Being Pagan and all. And this being my fourth personal website already.

And so the blog must change as well. I am thinking of rewriting some of the old posts while some, I shall readily dispose - like something nasty I left in the living room while I was drunk. Here's hoping that my writing be more practical, less romanticized, and more true to myself.

Besides, this blog is so due for a makeover.

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Life is a Circus

The yellow-and-blue striped tent, under the stormy Philippine skies.

Varekai just had its opening in Manila. I've never been to the circus all my life so I was really curious to see this. I wanted to make it extra special, so I got the VIP. The ticket was painfully expensive, but it's one of the crazy things I just have to do once in a while. 

Needless to say it was spectacular and everything. It's Cirque du Soleil, "the greatest show on earth". But amidst the roaring crowd, behind the glittery smiles and colorful make-ups, I couldn't help seeing the almost painful anxiety of the performers to deliver and to look good onstage. It makes me wonder what they had to put through and sacrificed for the sake of show. I was watching with a mix of admiration and sympathy. 

I dunno. Maybe it's because I've just been to a wake. It always changes the way I see things again when someone I know passes away. 

I wonder how much time we spend on our lives just to look good for other people? How much of ourselves are just make-up and costume? 

The circus tent seemed to belong to a world where everything is happy and colorful. The VIP area was packed with the crème de la crème of the society and a few wannabe middle-class like me. I tried as many of the hors d'oeuvres as I could, but didn't get to appreciate any of them. So I just drowned myself in wine and mango juice. 

Leaving the tent felt like stepping out into another world - the real one, where street children come to you begging for leftover pop corn. Outside, you can see the high society among the proletariat and the bourgeoisie  in one view - each class seem to be confined in their own worlds.

I enjoyed the show nonetheless, despite all the emo-pondering. My mouth must have been open all the time from all the gasping and screaming and laughing. In fact I must have enjoyed it too well because I didn't realize I was just sitting almost beside Ara Mina until the end of the show. Not that I'm starstruck or anything, but still.

Basbasan Nawa!

Pick your poison.

Inside the Tapis Rouge tent.

One of the costumes on display.

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Kanji Adventure

Today I have officially memorized 500 kanji.

Since the beginning of June, I've been (re-)memorizing one hundred kanji per week using the Heisig method. By October I hope to be able to recognize the meaning of every Joyo kanji I encounter upon. After that will I only begin to actually study how to 'pronounce' them.

I even got no plans of (re-)learning Nihongo grammar just yet. My goal this year is simply just to be able to read aloud written Japanese.

Still got 1,542 more to go. Ganbarimasu!

ファイト!!

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The Music of Andrew Lloyd Webber and the Rain

Falcon must have been the most annoying storm after Ondoy. It has been raining relentlessly for a week and I was getting sick of hearing the constant sound of rain falling on the roof. Eventually just after writing a post about Habagat I experienced everything I hate about the rainy season in one day. On Friday I had to sleep in a coffee shop and report to work at 4AM because I wasn't able to go home the previous night due to the flood and horrible traffic.

Rain or shine, deluge or not, I was determined to go to the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical revue I booked weeks ago. I wouldn't really want to miss it since I got front row seating at the CCP. (Front row in the upper box seats that is, which gives a really awkward view of the stage.) Thankfully the rain subdued just a few hours before the show started.

After-storm Manila Bay area feels like quiet and cozy place. 

I love the smell of thunderstorms and brine in the cool breeze
mixing up with the smell of cooking food in the nearby restaurants.

It was a nice surprise to bump into Nadine, whom I wouldn't have known to be in the theater too if she didn't GM text about her being in the theater just before the show. A few days ago we were talking about how we dig the Cardigans and the Cranberries and other grunge stuff, I wouldn't expect we would see each other in a hoity-toity musical show later.

More than half of the songs that were performed are from Webber musicals I've never heard before, which is nice to know and all but unfortunately I found most of these to be terribly boring. During the boring parts, I would find my mind wandering off to my office cubicle worrying about the shitload of work I would have to finish on Monday, which totally sucked. The sequence of the songs were weird too, with sleepy songs sandwiched between lively performances and vice-versa, resulting to an emotional rollercoaster.

But all in all, I think the ticket price is worth it even if just for the performances of Pie Jesu and the Phantom of the Opera alone, which for me were both stand-up-ovation-worthy. Even without the trappings of costume and set design, the performances manage to bring the audience into suspending disbelief. All of the eight casts have really got some serious pipes, especially Trish Crowe who did the soprano for the above-mentioned songs. Michael Cormick, being at his age, looked awkward and funny swinging his booty around as Rum Tum Tugger, but was quite spectacular as the Phantom. It was also nice to know that one of the casts, Shaun, was  actually last year's Munkustrap in Cats in the Manila run.

In the end I enjoyed the show quite well. It may not be entirely Broadway, but what's great is seeing world-class performances of the great Webber songs in just one seating.

Thank you Sir Andrew for gracing our world with your music.

Basbasan Nawa!

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Why I Do Not Celebrate Litha

"A tree that cannot bend will crack in the wind." 

-- Tao Te Ching

Because first of all, "Litha" is an Old English word meaning "navigable" - pertaining to the calmness of the winds in the European seas during this time of the year. Here in the eastern Pacific however, the seas sure are far from looking very "navigable" with winds occasionally running up to 250 km/h (and more).

Of course it also has that less archaic-sounding name, Midsummer. But it's hardly the middle of summer here with we Pinoys declaring it the "end of summer" just as soon as the first tropical storm hits, which usually happens just around the end of May.

Apolaki's altar

Of all the years of doing the sabbats, the fact that Litha is the longest day of the year just hasn't sink in to my consciousness. I know that the sun will rise tomorrow around 5:30 in the morning and set around 5:30 in the evening giving us almost equal parts of night and day - just like it does throughout the entire frickin' year on every country that's near the equator. It's not like in some parts of Sweden where we could get to experience 20 hours of daylight in June, and then 20 hours of darkness during winter.

Midsummer was originally celebrated by people who live just a few latitudes below the icy north pole where the heat of the sun is a boon - ergo all the glorifying and praising the sun receives in those textbook Wiccan rituals. Down here in the tropics, it just doesn't make sense for me to rejoice in the strength of the Sun seeing that the people are fanning themselves with any flat piece of material they could grab and occasionally blurting out: "ang ineeet!", usually followed by some kind of expletive. That is, in those days when the sun is not hidden behind gray skies. Yeah I know, the sun is the "source of all life on Earth" blah-blah-goddess and all that, but at these times it can also be the cause of  heatstroke, skin cancer and grumpy mood.

Fortunately, the middle of summer does have a significant effect on our lands which is a worthy cause of ritual itself: The warm air of the Pacific ocean stirred by the heat of the sun becomes the seed of tropical cyclones which often find their way onto our shores, while in east continental Asia, the land mass heats up and pulls the monsoon winds from the southern seas, bringing us rain and wetting our shoes as they make their way to Japan. Our ancestors have aptly given these winds a masculine sounding name, Habagat, which has eventually also become the name of our season of rain and storm. As the heat of the summer wanes, the monsoons stop and the colder trade winds from the northeast take over, and to these winds the wise ancestors have given the feminine name, Amihan, completing the Yin and Yang of our annual tropical climate.

Habagat season. The eastern portion of inter-tropical convergence zone (ITCZ) bends towards northern Asia, the southwesterly monsoon winds become prevalent.

Amihan season. The ITCZ finds itself way below the Philippine area, the colder easterly trade winds become prevalent.

I would much rather prepare myself physically and spiritually for the coming of Habagat than pretend to be a Viking welcoming the humid heat of the tropical sun.

As a city Pagan, Habagat is a tough season for me. Crop-growers in the farmlands may welcome the rainy season, but for me it also means having to deal with flood, mind-numbing traffic, ruined travel plans, deadly mosquitoes, pain-in-the-ass commuting, wet shoes (I hate wet shoes) and the possibilty of being stranded in the middle of nowhere during a superstorm (which happened to me on my birthday in 2006).  True to its name, Habagat calls for masculine virtues in order to us get by: strength, endurance, hard-work, patience, and self-control, as this period will surely bring about some test of nerves as well.

I'm planning to do a short personal ritual for this reason. I would not wish for the storms to leave us alone knowing that these are an inevitable and necessary part of Nature, although I would pray that they lay upon us lightly. I just want Habagat to teach me how to be strong but calm, enduring but adapting, tough but able to yield - like a bamboo tree bending in the wind.

Basbasan Nawa!

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A Mystical Beltane

"I unite the powers of the Sun and Moon within me. With my wand I father the Child, with my chalice I mother it. Within me lives the alchemy of this union of opposites. Let the magical child of my creative nature blossom and thrive in the inner and the outer worlds" -- Rite of Beltane, The Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids

My nemeton wears the festive colors of the occasion.

Normally I would have my solo ceremony within a week after celebrating the Sabbat with friends. But this time typhoons happened and Hong Kong happened and then laziness and procrastination creeped in until I realized it's only a week away from summer solstice. I can't believe it took me five weeks and and a ritual-making seminar to pull my lazy ass into doing Beltane. Thankfully, OBOD rites are so focused on inner transformations that you can never really be late for them.

The season's themes are fertility, creativity and union. I used my Hindu deity images to represent the male and female energies within and without me. The altar ended up having a distinctive Asian look to it with all the trinkets coming from India, Thailand and Bali. I think it's one of the best-looking (and best-smelling) impromptu altars I have ever created so far, and my camera just couldn't do justice to it.

Since I decided to go Asian-style I did my grounding-and-centering listening to a techno version of the Kali mantra at the start of the ritual and had the Gayatri chant playing in the background during the entire ceremony. All these visual, auditory and olfactory inputs had a tremendously powerful effect to me and I went on a ritual-high in no time. I finished the rite having written pages of inspiration in my journal and still had enough energy to photoshop the ritual photos and write this blog entry. Creativity and fertility indeed. Or it must be the Milo I had as after-ritual food.

Asian-flavored Beltane altar.

"Yemaya Regina", my attempt on pointillist painting, portrays the rape of Yemaya by her own son, Oggun (symbolized as a green phallic fish). The parable reminds me of the Wiccan narrative about the Goddess making love with her child and consort, the Horned God, on Beltane. The painting shows the mystical union of the male and female from which is born Light and Wisdom (hidden here are the Greek words "Phos" and "Sophia").

The left side of the altar is dedicated to the female while the right side to the male. The shiva-lingam, the stones and the wand all represent the masculine creative force and the animus.

The central candle represents me passing through the fires of Beltane each representing the masculine and feminine energies. By the end of the ritual, the central candle will have reached the area by the flowers which symbolize the fruit of the union of the god and goddess within me.

The most important tool many magicians tend to forget about: the journal

Basbasan Nawa!

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The Art of Ritual Making

Lights of inspiration.

Although  it was mostly geared towards beginners, it's nice to hear about ritual from a classroom perspective. As a practicing Pagan I'm used to doing rituals as catalyst for inner change, but it's interesting to learn from the other participants (comprising of a doctor, a mother, a teacher, a businesswoman, among others) on how necessary and helpful ritual is in their everyday lives.

A pleasant surprise of the day is meeting a fellow member from the OBOD whom I have made contact with a few weeks ago. He has been in the Order for quite a number of years since he joined in the Netherlands. He's been asking around the officers for any other member of the Order from the Philippines and got my email address. We've been exchanging mails ever since, but it was only a day before the seminar when I found out that he is actually friends with the seminar instructor. Small world indeed! He dropped by after the seminar for some chit-chat and brought some veggie pancit as well which was perfect grounding food after all those rituals.

Ms. Leah Tolentino opening the seminar in ritual.

Ms. Arlene,  from the Asian Social Institute, talks about indigenous ritual in the Cordillera mountains.

My little artwork from one of the activities.

Participants in the seminar.

Some stuff around the venue, Bahay Ginhawa

Basbasan Nawa!

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In The Streets of Hong Kong

The rains dampened my plans to explore the rural towns of the Southern islands, but it gave me a chance to get myself more acquainted with the city.

There is not much to see in terms of man-made attractions unlike its younger, overly make-upped sister in the south, Singapore. But Hong Kong feels more real, less pretentious, and like a serious older sister, appears to have no time for bullshitting around. The city is literally bustling and bursting with energy but it's not without its quaint little parts. My favorite moments were in fact mostly in the cozy suburban areas - sipping Chinese tea by the university campus while listening to young students play traditional instruments, for example.

I think I'm getting better at this solo backpacking thing now. I feel more confident walking in the streets. I also took less photos and as a result got richer experience, besides, my memory paints better pictures than my camera.

A busy street in Central.

View of the harbor from a Star Ferry. Rain clouds loom in the sky.

In the hustle and bustle of the city, there are still many pockets of serenity and calm - like this centuries-old Tin Hau temple dedicated to the Chinese goddess of the sea.

A triangular corridor in Tsim Sha Tsui

A drizzly morning in the old district.

Pick your poison. For non-Cantonese speakers, the way to order is to point to the most edible looking thing, hand over a 50-dollar bill and wait for the change.

Hong Kong's party district: Lan Kwai Fong

The colorful lights of Kowloon.

Hong Kong's oldest street.

A surrealistic art on display by the harbor.

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Riverdance - The Farewell Tour

One of my dreams just came true. For years I have been a Riverdance fan and last week I finally got to watch them - LIVE!

And in Hong Kong.

It was surreal. I had to constantly remind myself I was seeing them flesh and blood and not on a screen. It took me a lot of guts to pull off something like this - booking a concert in a foreign city and going there alone - but thank gods it paid off well. I have never seen anything more spectacular.

I even got a bonus. I ran into some of the performers who were exiting backstage when I was leaving the theatre. Too bad I was too shy and too starstruck to ask for autographs.

I booked online a few weeks ago and now I finally got my VIP ticket!

By the entrance to the Lyric theatre.

Inside the Hong Kong Academy of Performing Arts.

A large wall display.

Photography was strictly prohibited but I managed to snatch a photo of the stage before any of the ushers catch me.

Basbasan Nawa!

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Food in Hong Kong

Eating in Hong Kong for me is more about the experience rather than acquiring new tastes. We Pinoys really don't have to "acquire" to Chinese food. So even though I wasn't really satisfied with many of the stuff that I ate; the location, the atmosphere and the view at least make up for it. (And there is still nothing like Chinese lumpia and fried siopao in Binondo)

Strawberry Danish and best-tasting coffee ever (really), at SimplyLife, IFC mall - the tallest tower in Hong Kong. There was also a lovely view of the rainy Victoria Harbor in the morning which made this one-hour breakfast moment immortalized in my daydreams.

Rubbery octopus and fried rice for dinner in a dai pai dong (tradtional sidewalk eatery). Noisy, smoke-filled and chaotic  - this is authentic Hong Kong dining.

Dim sum stand at Wan Chai. I don't really know any of these but I just gotta try one of them. I wasn't adventurous enough for tentacles and claws so I picked the slimy, yellow ball things (which tasted like curry). 

Peking duck noodles at Peking Garden, in the poshy One Pacific Place. I was the lone guy in the bar. When I asked for water, they gave me a bottled Evian which skyrocketed the bill. I should have known. Sheesh.

Fish and chips and some red wine at Post 97 in Lan Kwai Fong, the party district of Hong Kong. The party district really is a bit old-school-ish, especially when compared with Singapore's Clark Quay. It's like Makati's red light district vs. The Fort.

I was in an area of western Hong Kong (Sheung Wan) where there is nary an English word on the signboards and on the menus. Thank god I found one symbol I am quite familiar with.

Blueberry cheesecake at Starbucks, near the Avenue of the Stars, with the view of the legendary Hong Kong skyline (not shown). I dunno but when it comes to cheesecake, I was expecting the blueberries to be at least crushed.

Tetsune Udon, with sweet omelette on top at Osaka Osho, Times Square at Causeway Bay.

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