The Hands that Rock

Lying face down and half naked, my body adjusts to the cool conditioned air. The scent of burning candles and the slow, instrumental music help calm down my otherwise chilling nerves. I heard a flapping of leaves,  then felt an almost burning sensation on my shoulders. A few more followed suit, from my shoulders down to the back of my waist. It was searing for a brief moment, followed by an assuring relief.

There’s a solid pressure on my back, in small and consistent intervals. Like an adagio to my senses, it steadily moves from the shoulders down to my waist. My body felt like a bubble wrap, bursting and popping from every thrusts and gentle pounding. Its strokes are a pleasure in boundless proportions.

I surrendered completely, enabling the seemingly gifted hands to conquer the entirety of my physical self. I closed my eyes and met Mr. Sandman.

Then she woke me up, an hour and forty minutes later.

Ahhh…..the soothing massage is over. My body felt fresh and short of muscle pains and stress.

Nothing beats “hilot” on a rainy weekend.

Have a great week ahead!


Of Doctors and Politicos

For me, doctors are people clad in white robes, who walk around hospital corridors with stethoscopes hanging around their neck. You consult them for an ailment, they write something on a piece of paper and then charge you a consultation fee.

When the stars seem to be not on your side, they’d recommend confinement in a hospital, visits you everyday with junior residents tailing them wherever they go, and after they put their stethoscopes on every part of your body  as you breathe, you anxiously wait for the day when they would finally recommend discharge from the hospital.

Only after paying their almost exorbitant professional fees and hospital bills that you come close to cursing them.

But still, we owe our lives to these doctors. Perhaps some of them deserve the respect, while some of them are no different from extortionists.

Politicians and Doctors? I see no difference at all.

My Hiding Place


A laid back, not-your-usual kind of cafe.  If you’re a fast-paced highly engaged individual, this place is not for you. Orders take time as Van Gogh prepares the dishes with utmost passion. You bus your own table. You ring the bell by  the kitchen window if you need something else. You write your orders and tally your own bill on a piece of paper. Just a few of Van Gogh’s house rules –  breaking it won’t land you in jail, but do so at your own risk. 😛


Organic teas are served based on your mood preference, on a teapot of your choice. Banana, Avocado, Mango, Spanish plum, Mint, Ginger, Guyabano flavors. All these are natural remedies for your weary senses.

van goghMismatched pieces of furniture are a perfect visual delight. Works of art adorn the walls creating an impression of unrivaled craftsmanship.

And there’s my favorite curse wall – painted in red, I call it the freedom wall because you can write and vent and curse all you want. Release your anger, frustrations, what-have-yous. A perfect emotional punching bag for those who are having a bad hair day.

Every visit is a feast to my taste buds. The owner  is patient and accommodating enough to explain how each food on the menu helps produce certain hormones on your body that could help you beat stress, anxiety and a whole lot more.  PA210172 This particular dish beats depression – Larry Flynt’s Cabbage Experience. Freshly boiled cabbage, dried fish, salted eggs together with fresh fruits of the day complemented by a special sauce turn into an ultimate fusion of flavors I never thought would taste good together.

We seek refuge here for a quick respite from the toxic corporate world. But intentions of a short stay are almost always extended to long hours of conversations over a cup of tea, or rather “cups of tea” 🙂 At times,  we relish moments of just sitting there, in tranquil solitude, in the presence of dear friends who are equally immersed in their own private thoughts, unwary of everything else outside.

It is also the best place to cap a tiring day. Conversations with Van Gogh (the owner) are also as splendid – from his travel adventures to insights about how his bipolar brain works. Devoid of traditional business goals, he set-up the cafe not to gain profit, but to fulfill his passion of  providing food that leaves you happy and in good spirits. He is also generous to give complimentary food on some days. He creates the place where disorder becomes an orderly thing.

I wish for the place to stay the way it is. A quaint, unconventional haven for those who lust for something unusually pleasant. A place not so crowded, far and safe from the claws of commercial greed.

Ok – so here’s the place I’m so raving about :

Van Gogh is Bipolar Living Space/Art Gallery Cafe – 154 Maginhawa st., Sikatuna Village (inner courtyard)

Open from 5pm onwards, open for lunch on Saturdays and Sundays.  Closed on Tuesdays.

Search Facebook for its official page.

To Quit or not to Quit

Trying to quit smoking is proving to be such a daunting task. I’m on my second, smoke-free week and it feels like I’m being tortured on some secluded asylum where my daily food supply consists of a massive dosage of tranquilizers while I’m clad with a full straight jacket 24/7.

I’ve been consistently craving on whatever kind of food there is – regardless if I’m full or not; It doesn’t matter anymore if I had just taken my meal or is just about to have one. I consume the same amount of food no matter how hungry or filled I am.

I drool over street food and my mouth never tires of chewing day in and day out. My sweet tooth seem to have reached an all time high as I munch on chocolate bars even at the wee hours of the morning. Now I won’t be surprised when, sooner or later the weighing scale would tell me I have reached 200 lbs! Argh.

I have come up with several theories concerning this sudden change of eating habits, coupled of course with my daily dose of friendly conversations with friends and colleagues who were quite beleaguered with this absurd gobbling attitude.

First it’s got something to do with my decision to stop smoking. True or not, but I have first hand accounts on people who suddenly ballooned to as high as 200 lbs. as soon as they quit smoking. Second, dosages of steroids injected during my hospital “sojourn” heightened my food cravings, again I haven’t researched if this is indeed true. Then there’s PMS Now this, is proven to be true but I’m still two or three weeks before my schedule. Meaning, the cravings should come a couple of weeks after. Argh.

Now I’m thinking, should I continue this non-smoking streak and be prepared to have a drastic weight change or should I give up and smoke again to deal with my food cravings?

On second thought, maybe I’d continue this task and deal with my weight issues later.

Sigh. Such a price to pay .

In Sickness and in Health

My four-day confinement at the hospital made me realize some things.

  • Regardless if your taste buds are working well or not, hospital food will always be blah, bland. And while you are on your way to recover your health and your appetite, the mere sight of the hospital’s food ration would make you not want to eat again.
  • Having an IV tube attached in the back of your hand for four days is a challenge for you to think of ingenuous ways to do things. Like going to the bathroom, changing your top, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, eating with one hand, etc. etc. But believe me, it gets easier overtime. I quite got the hang of it faster than I thought.
  • While hospital beds are fairly comfy to lay on, you will never have a good, sound sleep. Most of the time, when you are about to catch Mr. Sandman here, the door will open and somebody will get your blood pressure, or give your meds, or check your temperature or whatever the doctor says.
  • In times of sickness, your family WILL always be with you. My mom and pop, oldies that they are, stayed with me all throughout my ordeal. Seeing them take care of me while I’m stuck in the hospital bed pulled my heartstrings. Love you Mom and Pop!
  • The television is a sure fire way to keep you company while you wrestle with boredom. I spent days on end flipping thru cable channels and even Kapamilya and Kapuso networks. Gabby Concepcion is all over the boob tube. But he’s as gorgeous and hot as he was 13 years ago!
  • Steroids and antibiotics can make you feel bloated and wobbly.

All these, because of Pneumonitis. And I wouldn’t want to go back to the hospital ever again.

So I’m seriously thinking, maybe I should stop smoking already.


I’m feeling fidgety right now. For in less than 12 hours, I’m off to face one of my greatest fears – going to the hospital to undergo an executive medical check up. For the life of me, I’ve never done this. Save for some urinalysis, blood tests or some x-ray procedures that I went thru, I have never undergone an extensive medical check up.

I have every opportunity to have this executive check up for years, and it’s�long been�waiting right under my nose, at my own disposal. But fears and apprehensions paved the way for procrastination. I’m such a paranoid. It freaks me out thinking that something dreadful might come out of it. I’m scared as hell thinking what the results would tell me – that some adverse elements are dwelling inside my vital organs, the presence of Big C for example.

Yeah, call me a freak, but that’s the way my brain cells work when it comes to health matters. Always directed towards the worst possible scenario….and I never want to know that I’m dying. I never wanted that feeling of being told that my time’s up.

But then again, I realized that I’ve been remiss in taking care of my own wellness. It’s but about time to have my health checked. And whatever the results are, I just fervently hope that it’s never too late.

Oh golly. Thinking about tomorrow is killing me already. And waiting for the results is even more tormenting.

On a lighter note, undergoing an executive check up means an item off my list of greatest fears. So this is one personal feat indeed. Lol.