Apple’s New MacBook “Air”

Mouth-watering – this is the adjective that first popped into my head the first time I saw Apple’s new MacBook Air – currently world’s thinnest, at three-quarters of an inch at its thickest point, in its category. Sure, it has its share of downsides, such as the need for an external disk drive, but no matter. I’ve never been a fan of leviathan notebooks, anyway. They look like flatbed scanners which you have to lug to a conference and open with nary an iota of elegance.

The MacBook Air has a silver-and-black body, weighing all of 3 pounds. The MagSafe power connection is at the left, while the retractable port hatch is at the right. What are these ports? 1. a USB 2.0 port; 2. a headphone jack; and a micro-DVI port that supports S-video, VGA, DVI, and composite output. In layman’s terms, that’s where you’ll connect your “projectors and stuff.”



Their sales pitch is that despite its impressive size (in the IT world, bigger is not always better), its features have not been compromised. The LED screen is still a respectable 13.3 inches, with a built-in camera and mic above it. It has a full-sized keyboard for Alf fingers, which is also backlit when the MacBook Air detects a decrease in ambient light – a feature that was long overdue. With it, you don’t have to pester your airplane seatmate or squint to see the keys inside a darkened conference room or lecture hall.

The trackpad, too, improves on what the MacBook Pro already has. It’s bigger and enables pinching (using thumb and forefinger in zooming in or out), swiping (swiping three fingers across the trackpad to navigate between pages), and rotating (rotating a photo, of course).

It boasts wireless use for a full 5 hours. By the way, their “wireless” feature keeps Apple on top of the game by enticing you to support its other products, such as its DVD rental service. But no matter. A notebook this size would have to bring hardsell with it one way or another.

Now, the question on everyone’s mind is: How much does the MacBook Air cost? It retails at $1,799. That’s EUR 1,224, Yen 192,477, SGD 2,579, or PHP73,760. I hope “me not desire it a long time.”

The Year of the Rat

Astrologists claim that Snakes will be lucky in business this year. It isn't officially the Year of the Rat yet, but I'm definitely looking forward to it.

Here's a video of the kids making do with what weren't prohibited last New Year's Eve.

Happy 2008!

Dad initiates Migs and asks him to light a Judas belt.

Special Kids at A.P. Santos School

Busy December

I hardly have time to put up my feet and relax these days. There are gazillions of social functions to attend and I haven't even dealt with half of my Christmas list...but it's only a mere 48 hours before Christmas! What's a harassed mom to do?

December 22, 2007. Shopping at the SN Tiangge. I took Sabrina and Seth to "SN" (San Nicolas) – our version of SM here, actually named the 365 Mall – for some more shopping. I was wearing a bacon-collared tee, because whaddaheck, it was comfy and I was only going to a tiangge, anyway. But horror of horrors! While we were eating at Shakey's that afternoon, I ran into one of my professors; Inaki's best friend's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Church; Sabrina's best friend's entire family; plus the Manager whom Raul personally knew. That'll teach me not to wear bacon-collared shirts in public from now on.



December 21, 2007. We left Laoag for Sarrat at about half-past 3 in the afternoon for the PAGCOR Employees' Annual Gift-Giving Activity. At around 9 PM, I took Inaki to the Capitol to watch a fireworks display and to check out the other entries in "Zoom In," a photo contest sponsored by Councilor Kristian R. Ablan. He took a photo of me and Inaki (here shown "showing off" his Kuya Jack's entry).




We then walked to Total Department Store, about five blocks away, to buy some last-minute presents.



December 18, 2007. It was PAGCOR's Christmas Party, preceded by the awards night and dinner for the 20-Year Loyalty Awardees. We decided to get a room at the Fort since the party for the kids would be starting at 9 PM. Tito, one of Raul's golf buddies, asked me to be his date at the dinner but we were late as usual, so all the seats at his table were taken.


I sat with Romy, another compadre, who didn't have his wife with him. The table was literally brimming with food – it was a P1,500 per plate dinner – with lots more to spare as several awardees didn't bring their partners along.

The menu: Clear Mushroom Soup, Cold Cuts With Seaweeds and Century Eggs, Spicy Pork, Lechon, Sauteed Mushrooms With Broccoli, Steamed Lapu-Lapu in Soy Sauce, Yang Chow Fried Rice, and about five other dishes I wasn't able to taste. I was stuffed!

The kids played a few games and everyone went home with prizes. Seth and Sabrina were already drowsy so I had to take them back to the hotel room while the boys and Raul stayed on until the wee hours of the morning.





The next day we had buffet breakfast at the Coffee Shop and the kids and I were in the pool till 12.

We checked out at 2 PM while Raul stayed on for a round of golf.




December 15, 2007. Gift-Giving by MMSU Students for preschoolers and special children of Shamrock and A.P. Santos Elementary Schools.

December 11, 2007. Inaki was a contestant in their English Fest Declamation Contest and Sabrina played the part of the "Sun" in a short skit entitled "The Wind and the Sun." Three days before, her teacher was SM'ing me about the costume and I kept ignoring them. I thought to myself, all I had to do was purchase about three yards of shiny gold material, cut a hole for the head, and have her wear it as a robe. How difficult could that be?

But I forget this is Laoag, where movies are shown two months late. The manangs at the shops didn't know what the heck "lame" was. I tried to idiotically describe to them an alternative material – "Yung sinusuot ng mga bading..." and all they gave me were blank stares. Well, at least there was one who pitied me enough to point me to a textile store. "Adeng, pumunta ka sa Scooty's."

I asked about a dozen people where I could find "Scooty's" and finally got to a nondescript hole-in-the-wall Binondo-style shop that's nowhere near complete but at least had the shiny gold material I was looking for. I looked up, and painted on the wall in capital letters was "Scoty's."

I bought Sabrina a small tiara (which she also wears while playing on our street, while eating dinner, etc.) and made a sash with the word "SUN" on which I painstakingly glued red glitter. To complete her ensemble, I also bought gold slippers for her and even cut out a sun from illustration board, again with the word "SUN" on it, just in case there would be cretins watching.

As soon as I stepped through the school gates, I bumped into a kid in gold face paint, wearing an elaborately fashioned sun costume, complete with 3-dimensional rays coming out of his head. Man, don't the other moms have work to keep busy with?

We (Raul, Inaki, Sabrina and I) had a quick lunch of kare-kare, stuffed crabs, and camaron rebosado at the La Preciosa Restaurant on Rizal Street. Raul had to leave the declamation contest-watching to me because he was on the 2nd shift. So off to the school we went again, but as soon as I turned the engine off, Inaki asks me, "Mom, where's my hardhat?" Arrghhh!!!

I had to go back home, but I didn't have the keys to the house. I asked Sabrina and Seth not to leave our bedroom and even turned on the air conditioner to make sure they wouldn't leave the room. It also ensured that they wouldn't hear me.

I phoned Seth from our landlady's phone, got the frigging hardhat, and drove back to school. Inaki was probably the fourth contestant, and by then my ears were already bleeding from hearing "Dirty Hands" by John P. Delaney over and over. When it was Inaki's turn, Raul suddenly rings me and asks me to coordinate their gift-giving activity. Perfect timing, as always. I almost missed Inaki's turn.

It was his first time to join a declamation contest (well, he actually joined one when he was 2 ½ years old, but that doesn't count) so he was understandably nervous. He stopped at one point and the audience started making this "humming" noise, but he was able to carry on and give a powerful ending. No prize this time around, but I assured him it was not bad at all for a beginner.

Masyadong Magaling

SONAs are always tense situations. If you're an oppositionist and you applaud, you're an instant balimbing. If you're pro-administration, you've got to flaunt it. If you're a hardcore brown nose such as Yoda Venecia, you gotta give a shout-out

"From where I sit, I can tell you, the President is always as strong as she wants to be." This is the line that's supposed to save the insipid SONA she gave? I don't even know what the heck it means! Come on. Your speechwriters can do better than that. It was so blah that there's nothing much to debate about after that 60-minute spiel...I miss the Bangkang Papel and the Celebrity Roll Call SONAs of years past.

I only remembered to turn on the TV when the SONA was nearing its end. Too bad. I'd have given an annotation on congresswomen's attires. All I saw was Kabuki Arenas' unmistakable mask walking by PGMA's right on recession.


"Jolens!"

Save for JDV's shout-out at the end, I didn't even have reason to glance at the television screen while working on my PC. I thought it was a wrap when the "smattering of applause" turned a notch higher, but I was jolted out of my stupor when JDV suddenly shouted into the mike, "Masyadong magaling!!!" D'oh!

World's Tallest Building - Until When?

I've lost track of what exactly is the world's tallest building. Every couple of years or so, one country seems to jump on the bandwagon of upending the titleholder. This year, it's held by that tiny-but-trailblazing UAE city of Dubai. On July 21 of this year, the Burj Dubai has reportedly surpassed Taipei 101's pinnacle, finishing its 141st floor at a height of 512.1 m (1,680 ft).

The hotel/office/residential tower comes off as a fusion of the East and the West. Designed by Arch. Adrian Smith of skyscraper expert Skidmore, Owings and Merrill (the brains behind Chicago's Sears Tower and NY's Freedom Tower), it utilizes the so-called triple-lobed footprint pattern in Islamic architecture. Its cross section at the upper half would reveal a Y-shaped floor, maximizing views of the Persian Gulf.



What's interesting is Burj Dubai's interiors would be designed by Giorgio Armani, and the structure would be housing a 37-floor Armani Hotel. Apart from the hotel, it would be home to some 700 private apartments and several floors of suites and offices.

The 123rd floor will feature a second main lobby and the floor next to that opens up to an observation deck. There will also be a zero-entry swimming pool (one with a shallow sloping entrance rather than those so 15-minutes ago pool steps) at the 78th floor.



To make do with the limited water resources (it's still right smack in the middle of a desert, whichever way you look at it), the Burj Dubai boasts a "Condensate Collection System" wherein the condensate from a combination of Dubai's hot and humid outside air plus the building's cooling requirements is collected to produce 15 million gallons of supplemental water a year. This would be used to water the plants of Burj Dubai's innovative interior landscaping.

The Bizarre Thing About World Records

One of my "bestest" gifts as a kid was the latest Guinness Book of World Records. I marvelled at how strange human beings could be. I realized the power of the printed word (because that's all a record really boils down to – seeing your name in print). I feared for the life of those who constantly challenged each other to do more, to go higher, to go faster.

I was relieved when Guinness ruled that "no further entries in this category will be accepted," referring to M. Lotito's eating-a-bicycle world record.

But further entrants to the World's Tallest Building category cannot be stopped. Already, there are at least three threats to Burj Dubai's unclaimed-as-yet title. These are the Al Burj Tower, set to be constructed a mere 50 kms away; the Murjan Tower in Bahrain; and the Mubarak al-Kabir Tower in Kuwait.

Is it just a mere coincidence that these future skyscrapers will all be erected within largely the same continent? Is the U.S. still licking its wounds after 9/11 and staying away from the infrastructure race in the meantime? Do you want me to go into Nostradamus' visions of world domination by the Arab Empire?

I'm sure you don't. For now, I'm happy sitting back and watching events unfold from the stands. Back when the Petronas Towers were the world's tallest, I planned on going to Malaysia. They were unceremoniously unseated by Taipei 101 (but I was never motivated to visit Taiwan, anyway).



Now I have to visit Dubai just to be able to gawk at Burj Dubai (they say you can see its spire 50 kms away), and perhaps have a glimpse of Burj al-Arab, the world's tallest hotel. Notice I said "glimpse." I don't have any plans now or in the near future to spend USD$1000 a night (minimum) to stay there. But I've heard some local politicians have gotten rooms here. Make sure you're paying from your own pockets, guys. As a taxpayer, I wouldn't wanna be slaving just so you could pop your champagne.

Sulit.com.ph Contest

Buy and Sell Philippines: Sulit Community, the premiere free classified ads website in the Philippines, is currently having an exciting raffle where you can win a brand new Nokia 6300. To join, you just have to post a message about it in your blog, in a forum or in any website. After visiting Sulit Community and joining the raffle, do not forget to visit My Sulit Homepage.

The Windmills at Bangui

By guest blogger: Iñaki

When we went to have a summer beach trip at Pagudpud, we stopped at Bangui town along the way. When we stepped out of the van, we saw many beautiful windmills. Some were not moving. I felt so excited looking up at the enormous blades. Afterwards, we proceeded to Pagudpud and went swimming all day.

A Mothers Day tribute to Mama

For the woman who needed to stay for weeks in the hospital after giving birth to me because she lost so much blood;

For the woman who looked so Jackie-Oish in her 20s that it was impossible for my Papa not to have set his eyes on her;

For the woman who was happier jostling with crowds in Divisoria than shopping at Rustan's, even though she was "loaded";

For the woman who painstakingly planned our meals 38,325 times in 35 years of her married life;

For the woman who taught me how to properly cut up a chicken;

For the woman who allowed me to lick the pancake batter bowl;

For the woman who forced us to wear matching pantsuits which she cross-stitched one by one;

For the woman who could spend 30 minutes haggling with a store owner just so she could get a 50% discount on an aluminum pot;

For the woman who ate alone at a fastfood restaurant just because we all liked steak and she preferred Chinese;

For the woman who did half of my projects in school;

For the woman who proudly pinned my medals on me;

For the woman who didn't mind staying at home just so she could look after eight kids;

For the woman who waited up until the wee hours of the morning just to make sure I came home safe from a party;

For the woman who secretly accompanied me to apply for a job that I so wanted, but which my Papa was opposed to;

For the woman who cooked my favorite sinigang na bangus each time I came to visit;

For the woman who promised to give me her favorite 3-K heart-shaped diamond ring;

For the woman who gave me the best compliment when I felt so nervous before my wedding day;

For the woman who tried her best to attend my wedding despite the ravaging effects of chemotherapy;

For the woman whom I didn't accompany to Divisoria as often as I should have;

For the woman whom I didn't always join at the fastfood table to eat Chinese food;

For the woman who laughed at all our silly and corny jokes.

For the woman who told my Papa to take care of us all before she finally met her Maker at the age of 57.

Happy Mothers Day, Mama! You are always sorely missed.

Pacquiao-bashing

The other day, I overheard Erik Morales trash-talk Manny Pacquiao on the news. In an interview with Dyan Castillejo, Morales remarked that Pacquiao had an "agly voice," and even tried imitating Pacquiao's singing. (In a segue, Manny retorts with a,"Hey, Muralis, can you play guitar? Like this?")

I must admit that in their two previous fights, I wasn't such a rabid Pacquiao fan because Morales was muy guapo. However, after this remark, I now want Manny to knock him out in their next match in no more than 4 rounds!

I mean, yes, Pacquiao's voice is "agly," but the comment was a below-the-belt hit, especially for the millions of Filipinos who bought his CD. And for the millions of fans like me who make an event out of a Pacquiao-Anybody bout.



September 11, 2005. I'm beside myself with happiness after watching the Pacquiao-Velazquez non-title bout. I was almost afraid to watch, for fear that Pacquiao would again have either a glove or sock malfunction.

My sister dropped by for a visit, bearing gifts of suckling pig and fried noodles from Luk Yuen. She also brought machang which I haven't had a bite of in years. I think the last time I had one, in Binondo, was when my mom was still alive. I'm not really fond of leviathan pockets of sticky food packed with strange-looking ingredients, but I helped myself to it if only to remind me of my mom's penchant for unappealing Chinese food.

The tub of ice cream I bought last night was the perfect complement to the sans rival we had. When you're watching a boxing match on a weekend, you are absolutely allowed to gorge on anything. My dad and I would pass as poster children for UNICEF, anyway, given our gaunt frames, but my sister – well, she was riding on our disabilities. Oh, okay, she's excused, because it was her treat.

Sometime during the third round, my brother emerged from his room and loudly announced that he just heard on the radio, which was covering the fight in real time, that Pacquiao would bring Velazquez to his knees in the sixth.

It was the first time ever I entertained thoughts of parricide.

After about ten seconds, he even tried to redeem himself by saying that that didn't mean the bout was over.

To cut the long story short (or to skip the part where we bury my brother in the backyard), Manny Pacquiao impressively eschewed the use of an interpreter this time. When asked how he gauged his opponent, he confidently replied, "He have a power. But I know I am the champion." And when asked if he would still ask for a rematch with Morales, he blurted, "Absolutely!" surprising even the commentators (not because he wanted a rematch, but because he actually used a 4-syllable English word).



After a few minutes, PGMA appeared on TV with her funny fixed grin. Ever wondered how she could actually recite an entire speech without her lips touching?

Best forest mushroom soup

I discovered Cafe by the Ruins in Baguio (Shuntug Street, near the City Hall) when my friend Carlo and his director-friend Floy made me tag along with them for their power breakfast. This was sometime during the late '80s and I had already been in the city for about half a year. However, my eating haunts were limited to Benedict's, Barrio Fiesta, Sizzling Plate, Star Cafe, and Chicken House on Session Road; Rose Bowl on Harrison; and Manila Cafe, where we had unlimited credit. This appetizing clear broth has about four types of mushrooms, crunchy watercress, and soup extracted from a real chicken simmered for hours – not like those awful chockful-o'-MSG broth-cube soups that sadly pass for resturant fare. It also has a pleasant herb-and-butter flavor which could only be described as dreamy.


Unfortunately, they've revised their menu since; most of the dishes have lately not been up to par; and the long wait for seats isn't worth it anymore. This is why I've been desperately trying to make my own version for years.

Backpacking the Philippines

Rave about Thailand all you want, but the Philippines is still the best destination for backpackers. First of all, it's cheap to move around the country, and I've known Germans who have seen more places than I have during their 2-month stay here. Second, where else can you grab a bottle of one of the best beers in the world at less than fifty cents? Third, almost everyone here understands English, and I mean everyone, even the magkakariton (mendicants who collect recyclable trash with their pushcarts). If he can't understand you, he'll be able to text someone on his cellphone and ask.


The only thing to keep in mind when visiting is that there really are places to avoid, such as provinces in the south where peacetime occurs only a few days each year, and a few dingy places in Manila. Even Divisoria, the penny-pincher's shopping haven, can be safe if you know where to hide your wallet and if you can hire Batista to watch your back for a day.

I really feel so sorry for one-time tourists who speak ill of the country just because their bags were stolen at the airport or they were sweet-talked by a purty young thing at Ermita into spending all their money. Well, hello...? There aren't bad countries, I suppose, just dorky tourists.

The countryside should be your best bet if you want to really go on a Philippine adventure. Great beaches, inexpensive and scrumptious food, and hospitable people who would go out of their way just to make you feel at home. (But how on earth would you be able to relax if your host sleeps on a straw mat while he asks you to sleep in the master's bedroom?)

Best cold cuts platter

Call me old school, but I'm partial to 456 Restaurant because of its accessibility (it's open 24/7; you just need to steer clear of drinkers who fall off their chairs occasionally) and because the quality has been consistent, although the price hasn't. As soon as I enter the city, my tummy aches that for that seaweeds/century egg/white chicken/asado combo. Don't forget the chili sauce.

Best Steak

I have to admit that everytime I visit Manila, I get a hankering for steaks. It's just that Angus doesn't get flown to other parts of the country so we have to be where it's available. We ordered ribeye at Highlands Restaurant in the Mall of Asia and were not disappointed. True, it would cost you an arm and a leg, but so would a frozen slab of Angus at Rustan's. Besides, I can't perfect "medium well" when I cook my own steak at home. The dish comes with a side of corn and buttered veggies plus a baked potato, but I suggest that you hold the gravy if you want to savor the unadulterated taste of the juiciest steak in town.

Best Sisig

Unrivalled for decades, the sisig along the railroad tracks in Angeles, Pampanga (about 55 km from the NLEX tollgate) is still on top of the list. There's no single stall that could be called the best, because when there's an overflow at Aling Lucing's, the servings at the other stalls are just as great. Sisig is cooked in three steps: boiled, char-grilled, and finally sauteed. Angeles sisig isn't crunchy like those served in Manila watering holes; it's soft, juicy, and mind-numbingly cholesterolicious.

Best Bulalo

I'm not sure if these are still existent, but I've savored the most mouth-watering bulalo dishes in Cebu. Their version has quartered corn cobs, leeks, and real bone marrow inside the huge bone of the beef shank. The beef literally falls off the bone in its tenderness, but the marrow stays intact, so they serve the dish with popsicle sticks for scooping the marrow out. A friendly reminder – if you need fish sauce with calamansi to flavor your bulalo, don't ask for patis (fish sauce), because they'll give you soy sauce ("patis" is toyo in Cebuano). Instead, ask for "rufina" with a lowercase r. Bulalo (known as pochero in these parts) is savored at one of the stalls near Fuente Osmena, or a variation of it - the sizzling bulalo steak, at the old Abuhan Restaurant. Its presentation is more appealing than the gaudy way it's served in most restaurants in Batangas and Tagaytay.

Best dessert-to-go

Choosing from Dumaguete's sans rival, Pampanga's tibok-tibok, and Camiguin's pastel, I'm casting my vote for the latter – a yema-filled pastry that can be bought at the Vjandep bakeshop in Catarman, Camiguin Island. It's not as sinfully mouth-watering as Lord Stowe's egg tarts in Macau, but the local version is satisfying in its simplicity. It's also not as sweet as you'd expect Pinoy desserts to be, which was a relief. The small sizes are easy to pop into your mouth while hiking on the island with friends.

Best bouillabaise

We had quite a wonderful surprise with the seafood bouillabaise at Lab-as Restaurant in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental. Owned by the Fuentes family, we serendipitously stumbled on this restaurant while asking about dive tours for Apo Island. Sandra managed the travel agency while her brother Sande owned the pizza place and music bar. These establishments were located side by side at the northern tip of Rizal Boulevard (pretty similar to Roxas Boulevard's Baywalk, sans the smog). They had two varieties: the tomato-based soup and the coconut milk-based bouillabaise. On our first visit, we tried the former – a rich red broth of mussels, scallops, shrimp, fish, squid, crab, and mushrooms. It was a meal in itself, actually, and we needn't have ordered the fat crabs. It was part tangy, part spicy, and the freshness of its seafood ingredients was just fabulous. I can't remember the last time I tasted shrimps as crunchy or scallops as robust. By the way, "lab-as" is Visayan for "fresh".

Super Friends

(Originally posted March 18, 2005, on the occasion of our batch's 18th Anniversary): One hot and humid summer afternoon, we filed out of the bus and planted our feet on the driest, most infertile Philippine soil known to man. For someone who spent all her life in Manila, this place seemed like Alcatraz…more so when we were told that we could only leave the place every six weeks. I was mortified, but there was comfort in numbers. Some of my batchmates even hailed from the remotest of islands, so who was I to complain?

And then the dreadful moment came: It was time to give out room and dorm assignments. Growing up, I hated having to share a room with my sister---now I had to bunk up with a total stranger! Oh please, don’t assign me with an axe-murderer-slash-Tourette’s syndrome-patient roommate…

I don’t know how many days since that dropoff when my bosom friends and I gravitated towards each other, but it was kismet and we bonded through the months as if we came from one and the same womb (by different fathers, of course, seeing as how we physically couldn’t pass for siblings).

The cord that tied us together was the obligation to cook for the group. Either because of being born with silver spoons in our mouths or simply being cretins about anything involving kitchenware, we had to learn the hard way: flaking 2 kilos of talangka to prepare nape-throbbing aligui, cooking a bottomless pot of sweet and sour sauce (because of having to adjust the taste, what was originally intended as a saucerful turned into a big tureen of red pasty liquid just about fit for a Friday the 13th movie set), dividing 10 two-inch pieces of sardines amongst ourselves because there was nothing else to eat after the marathon blackouts…

After sometime, it was comforting to know that there were friends to come home to after five hours of talking to spaced-out students; our dinner conversation ranged from angst-ridden (“I refuse to entertain visitors after working hours!!!”) to insane (CT’s “I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all---“) to sarcastic (“Let’s wait a bit for that ‘klonk’ sound from the doorknob…”) to suspicious (“Where’s KMS and LP?”). Of course, there were attempts to be cultured, by having the occasional wine and cheese stolen from our mothers’ pantries, but it was very difficult to keep a tony lifestyle when the vendors don’t even sell celery at the market.

Camp became second home, or first, to some of us who, after a few months, decided to forego the Manila sojourns in favor of trips to Neighborhood 10 or weekends at the twin sin cities of Angeles and Gapo. Even the work itself became just a diversion from the “main concern” which was nurturing the friendships that were unintentionally forged there.

My friends of recent past envy me in that I was able to have a phase which I could look back to and with profound but genuine nostalgia say that those were the best months of my life. We had surprise birthday parties, drinking under the stars, authentic Asian cuisine capped with iced latte (way before it became fashionable in Manila), biking up and down the rolling terrain, swimming till the stars came out. Three of our friends play guitar and we would sing like wounded NPAs to our heart’s content. Entertainment would be turning up our 80’s hifi to full volume and slam-dancing to Pat Benatar, Power Station, U2 and The Pretenders. When feeling mushy, we listened to Sergio Mendes, Stevie Wonder and Donald Fagen. Heck, we even performed once with a 4-piece orchestra: flute, keyboard, guitar, and percussion, to the tune of “Morning Has Broken.” We had no TVs nor VHS players but we were happy. Better to watch a play in the Rec Hall or a gratuitous Lisa Macuja ballet presentation at the PASS Gym.

Looking back, I couldn’t for the life of me imagine how we could do those things over again, at least not at our age now. Climbing a flagpole to steal the U.S. flag, scaling the water tank, holding drinking sessions on top of the dorm’s roof, eating unhygienically-prepared bhan-mhi, singing in the storm with upturned umbrellas, running in a panic to escape water-throwing refugees during Tet, waving bras at other drivers along the Bagac Road, playing mini-olympics at Montemar, downing Red Horse like there was no tomorrow. It was brazen youth that did it, all the while relishing the thought that in that part of the world, we had our little paradise, a place where we can be ourselves, and friends whom we loved more than we did our own sisters.

After camp, we physically drifted apart; there were even one-year stretches when we didn’t know of each other’s whereabouts, but neither distance nor time would take away what good things we once shared.

I don’t know about my quasi-siblings, but I wax sentimental whenever I hear “Somewhere Out There,” preferably the chipmunks version. Or hear “Like A Lover” on the radio. Or play Pictionary. At times I don’t even want to look at our old photographs, knowing that that place looks nowhere near what it once did. I’d opt to just remember those scenes in my mind, and play them back, preferably on a dark, stormy night…with a bottle of cheap burgundy and purloined cheese.