Portia’s Island

It was one of those things I have on my "Things to do in my life" list.  I love diving, and I like photography, and I have always wanted to take pictures underwater ever since I started diving. Primarily to remember the beautiful things I have seen down there. 

Finally, after many years of wishing, I got my chance. I got grant money for a digital camera AND the underwater casing. The first few tries at it were not successful. The conditions were too rough, and the camera lens was misaligned for some reasons, and it was stupid of me not to check it before going off the boat.  Finally, after4 failed attempts, I was able to take decent shots underwater. They are not the kind who would make it to a diving magazine, but i am happy with the way they turned out. With a little help from photoshop, the colors became vibrant and I could adjust the framing. I finally had my own Nemo pictures and the classic one of the eel coming out of its hole. =)

I guess now I understand why anemonefishes, slugs, and moray eels are the favorite among macro photographers. They are easier to take pictures of compared to fish. I have a new found respect now for those photogrpahers–some of them probably hold their breath for a looong time just to take that one great picture.

Sure, some of the pictures I’ve seen in divng magazines were enhanced by photoshop. But there is only so much you can do with photoshop. If the picture was blue when you took it, then it will be blue no matter what you do afterwards.  And one should know the limitation of one’s camera.  Even the best digital cameras are only good at macro shots if you do not have an adequate light source. I am not an expert on underwater photography, but now I understand why all underwater photgraphers need all those lights. The reef only comes alive with color when you have a good light source.

And I guess that is the secret to everything: good light. Wonder how long I have to wait before I can get that underwater strobe?

Time indeed goes by quickly sometimes. In about 5 weeks time, my son will be one year old already. Has it been that fast already?

Gosh, has it really been 397 days since the last time he was inside me? I can still recall the day I gave birth to him very vividly. I remember being pissed off half the time in between the labor pains because Wowowee was playing in the TV they had in the labor room. I kept asking the midwives to transfer the channel into whatever–anything!–except that show. But they couldn’t find the remote control, and that was that. And nobody was tall enough to reach the TV that was inside a box attached to the ceiling. If I had been able to get up and change it myself, I would have. Thankfully, cellphones were allowed in the delivery room and after a short SMS to my husband, my salvation came in the mp3 player. Beastie boys and pinikpikan….. hmmm, maybe that partly explains my son’s hyperactive personality?

To all my female friends who are reading this blog and haven’t gone through pregnancy and birth yet— do not dread labor and delivery. Its hard, yes, but it will be over in a few hours. Its the months that follow that are harder by several degrees. But still, even though it is challenging, it is so worth it.

I sometimes have to remind myself how Orrin looked like the day he was born. He was not handsome at all, as all newborn boys are. But now, my golly, my son is really gwapo. I keep on falling in love with him everytime he wakes me up in the morning–sometimes with a kick in the face, sometimes with a kiss– and every time he gives me that little contented smile before finally going to Dreamland. The latest “pa-cute” he knows now is “beautiful eyes”. Batting eyelashes 3 times before giving a long wink. Never fails to illicit smiles from everybody. He is really becoming a charmer.

It wont be long now before he can finally walk on his own. Even now, he is showing signs that he wants to be independent. My baby is fast becoming a little boy. I hope he doesn’t grow up too quickly. I just know I am going to cry when he takes his first steps. Tears of joys mixed with tears of sadness, knowing that his first step will be the first many as he takes on the world around him. He may have come from me, but he is not mine. The best thing I can do is guide him as he goes through life, in the best way I know how.

Hay, kadasig sang tiyempo ah… it seemed only yesterday that he was this small bundle sleeping in peace in my arms. He has lost his baby smell, that’s for sure, but I will always remember how sweet his breath smelled on the first few days. And the memory of that smell will stay with me always….

Papi is leaving us.  And its not because we are separating or anything. He recently got his dream job of working as a divemaster in a resort in Sipalay, and this means that I will have to be the lone parent for Orrin in the meantime. 

Its great that he got the job, he’s been waiting for his chance for close to two years now. And the resort seems to be a great place and run by great people.  But sometimes I just can’t help but wish that he got a job in one of the resorts near dumaguete instead. 

I know it will be a bit difficult, but I will survive. I am not worried that he will look at other women in the resort–I am more worried about the kind of food that he will be eating there, actually.  At least here in the house, I know he eats healthy stuff.

Hay, Papi. I miss you already.  I will miss your snores, your swearing when the computer acts up again for the 9th time, your laughter. I will miss having someone who brings me a glass of water when I’m busy working, and hearing your delighted smacks of approval on the dinner I prepared.  I will miss my biking partner and my dive buddy, and my motorcycle teacher.  Orrin will miss you very very much also.  You know he prefers you when it comes to tickling time, because of the facial hair.  And he can pull your dreadlocks as much as he wants and you won’t complain, unlike Mami who really doesn’t like her hair getting pulled.

Sige lang ah. It won’t be for long anyway. And we will come and visit you often, of course.

Orrin is now 8 months old, and lately, he’s been fascinated with those little critters that are moving around in the walls of our house. The interest started with the word itself…. "tiki" does sound funny. Especially if you say it like you are imitating a tuko. And if you say it over and over again while tickling him.

After dinner, I usually walk him around the porchand when I see one, I point it out and say "tiki".  It takes him about 3 seconds to locate it, and when he does see it, there would be a big smile, a small squeal, and several little happy kicks.  If the tiki does move, there would be a squeal of laughter and more vigorous kicks.  And of course, all the tikis would be startled and move out of sight quickly, much to the delight of Orrin.  And when he realizes they are not there anymore, his face becomes questioning…. and that’s the cue for getting his attention on other things, or else the cries would come. Where did my tikis go?wahhhh!

So far, its only the real tikis that interst him… the gecko painting on the wall of our room is not as interesting as the real thing. Speaking of geckos, we have two in the house, but they have moved outside, so we do not see them often.  Wonder how Orrin would react when he sees the tuko?

Hmm…. I wonder if my little guy would grow up to become a herpetologist? Or at least a biologist. Now, that would really be something, huh?

Yugs, wala nagsaka tinapay ko… I really do not know why it didn’t rise this time. The yeast seemed ok  (very bubbly when I added it), the room temperature was more than adequate, and I did everything the way I usually do: first sift the flour, added the yeast, a bit of water, mix, more water, mix, then wheat germ, then salt, then baking powder, and then olive oil, and then mix some more.

Oh well, life’s like that. You do everything by the book, but sometimes, it doesn’t turn out quite the way it was supposed to be.  What else can we do, kungdi kaonon na lang giyapon. Sige lang nga wala nagsaka, tinapay ko man na gihapon. Haayyyy….

Pastilan, dili diay lalim aning biking.  Today, we went 26 km south to Malatapay market,and it seemed to me it was the hardest thing I had to endure since I gave birth to Orrin almost 8 months ago.  Maybe it was the slight congestion I was having, but mostly it was because my sorry ass, out of condition body was just not ready to tackle something that required endurance. Two years ago, this would have been no problem, because I was active, and always hiking. But after being almost sedentary for a year, this was really hard. 

It is so not fair. My husband, who smokes about 5 sticks a day,and weighs about twice as me (hence the higher wind resistance) was not even near exhaustion.  We have been biking off-road around Dumaguete since last week in preparation for field work, and he felt I was ready to tackle 25 km of almost flat terrain.  Almost flat ka da. The smallest incline felt like a huge hill. My bike had good gears, so it was not that difficult really. The route was simply long, and it was me that was out of condition.

So when we reached Malatapay and delivered the letter I was sending to Selinog, I swallowed my pride and said I was taking the jeep back.  Indi na ni ya kaya ng powers ko.  5 km under the hot sun is ok, but 25 km is just too much.

Not that this will stop me from getting on the bike. It is the exercise I enjoy the most next to dancing (it is an exercise, no matter what others might say).  Only that next time, I will take it easy. Aim for 15 km next time,and then 20, and then 25. So maybe next month, I will not have to swallow my pride and load the bike on top of the jeep when we have reached Siaton, which is further away.

     This Sunday, something really wonderful happened when I opened my Inbox folder. A letter that started with "I am happy to advise you that your application grant has been approved" was waiting for me. For about 10 milliseconds, I felt like on top of the world… people who have won the lottery or reached the peak ok a mountain would know how I felt.  The world stopped turning for a brief moment as I screamed by lungs out, running out of the room towards my husband who was in the yard, doing his usual bonsai things.  Oh my God! Thank you soooo much! It took me a while to explain to him what the good news was exactly, because i was crying and laughing at the same time, but he got it immediately. This was what we have been waiting for.

     I had to read the letter again just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, and it was really there.  But it was only when I printed it out and held it in my hand did I really really truly believe that I really got the grant. The universe’s answer to my prayer.  I guess the guy up there wants me to become a marine biologist after all, and not jus a dakilang domestic goddess. 

     After a few moments, it dawned on me that getting the grant was a big responsibility. There are things to be done, people to meet, a deadline to meet, a project to finish. And there is my thesis also (that I can now really finish, because there is now money for me to do the work), and it would mean a lot of work for the next 12 months. 

     But everything will work out fine, because I have the support of my family. Getting the grant was a big blessing, and I am really grateful– but I never forget also that the biggest blessing I have been given is my little guy with the biggest round eyes. And my family, who have supported me through thick and thin, through all my successess and fuck-ups. 

     With His blessings, everything will turn out OK. And if I work my ass off for it, hoepfully, by 2008, I will finally be able to wear the toga and the funny hat (as my hubby calls it) and go up the stage and receive my degree on Graduation Day. It’s still a long way off, and it will be a hard, tough climb, but we will get there eventually. Selinog Island, here we come!

Last weekend, me and my hubby went to Antulang for one of those rare weekend getaways.  I am usually very tired in the morning, and it would take me forever to drag myself out of bed. Doing the graveyard shift in taking care of Orrin for the past two months has not been easy, and the only real sleep is during the morning.  But last weekend, I was so eager to just go to the beach, I was so easy to get up. And two big cups of coffee also helped.

We had arranged for a baby sitter the day before, and she showed up at our gate at promptly 8am.  I was kind of reluctant to go without the little guy, and I kept of thinking of last minute reminders….about feeding schedules, the bath water’s temperature, don’t forget the vitamins, change the pacifier as soon as it falls down from his mouth, etc. etc. Its very hard not to worry about the little guy. But I kept on telling myself, its just for the day, and Ate Wilma will take good care of the little guy.

We went to the beach with my cousin and his girlfriend. It was fun not to have Orrin with us in the pick up for once. Just me and Arne. And the beach up ahead.

I haven’t gone to a nice white sand beach for almost a year now, and the place we went to was just what I needed. A getaway where I can forget I have a son to take care of even for just a couple of hours.

  As soon as we got there, I wasted no time in getting into the water. It felt so good to be able to swim in the sea again (and be able to wear a bikini again).  And to be able to see the reef hand in hand with my favorite diving and snorkel buddy. He may not have the body of that Nescafe guy in the commercial, but hsi dreadlocks are way more cooler. hehehe

So, this is what being a night person feels like. Its kind of weird, and for a day person like me, quite unpleasant. Staying up late at night (without the benefit of caffiene…huhuhu) is something all new parents must do–lucky are the very few whose babies have a duirnal habit. Maybe Orrin is such a night owl because he was born at 8:19 pm, and thus his “day” begins just when everybody’s day is ending.

The routine is usually like this: Papi stays with him will past 12, or whenever he’s finished feeping and burped and content, and its my turn until the sun goes up again. Somedays, he feeds long and then sleeps long. But nowadays, he feeds for 1 hour, sleeps for one hour, and then feeds again for an hour, and so on. And for some strange reason, there is nothing like sunlight and day sounds to get him to a deep slumber. Hay, little Orrin. The things Mami must do for you. Its hard to get irritated at the cutest thing in the world though, especially when he gives you that almost smile….

So anyway, bottom line is: I look like hell lately, but its ok. I’m not getting enough sleep, and my eyebags are huge. And to make it worse, I still can’t sleep very well during the day, when I know I should to make up for the sleepless night. I will never be a night person. I hope my little adorable bat changes his sleeping habits soon, because he sure wasn’t born to a mommy bat. I so look forward to the day when all of us can wake up with the sun…

My uncle died last week. thankfully, he did not suffer that long.  He had been having trouble breathing and taking in food because of a tumor that has grown in his throat.  The doctors said it was lymphoma or something like that, a terminal case. Brought about by years of smoking and unhealthy living.  In the end, he had to rely on a respirator, and a tube that delivered food to his stomach.  And after two week, his system (or his will) finally gave up. And he was gone.