I can’t write when I feel like shit

That glamorized image of a writer, painter, musician, insert-type-of-artist-here, down in the dumps, creating genius work in a place of darkness, isn’t true for everyone.

I don’t consider myself a “writer” but someone who likes to write from time to time. And no, I can’t write when I feel like shit. And right now I feel like shit.

It’s a wonder how these artists are able to carve out something beautiful or worthy or just plain something, anything, out of that piece of [metaphorical] fecal material.

Energy matters to me a lot, so when the energy is just not there, or at least the energy is not this raging fire ignited by inspired energy (it’s a loop really), nada.

Though there are a badigikijillion energies of different frequencies, the two main types are really positive and negative. Positive could be anything from beauty to awe to inspiration to excitement to learning. Negative could be anything from sadness to fear to hate to constipation.

Apologies for my sailor’s mouth (or mind). Sociologist Brene Brown said that in intense moments, the two things we do are cuss and pray. Fall on our knees in full surrender to the Greater Being, or fall flat on our backs in frustration with not a smudge of care for propriety.

Cussing and praying sometimes happen simultaneously. I do more cussing in my head than praying, or sometimes even include some cussing in my prayers. Don’t tell me you don’t do that, Pinocchio.

Anyway, going back to the two energies, positive energies are easier to navigate than the negative ones. It’s easy to be open, to communicate well, and to be kind when we are feeling good or happy. 

But when we’re in negative energy states? (Wo)man, that’s when shit gets real.

That’s when we elevate ourselves. In the words of the not-a-guru guru Tony Robbins, that’s when we “raise the bar.”

Time for me to raise the bar now and stop feeling like shit.

Uhm, did I actually just write something in this shitty state or what?

May Musings: Manipulating Time and Memory

It’s May. Goodness. Ang bilis. I can almost hear the groans of frustration, cheers of excitement (for the ‘ber”months? Please, not yet!), gasps of wonder. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the fast pace of time and the gradual formation of wrinkles on our foreheads.

There’s this lady I’ve been listening to on podcasts- Laura Vanderkam, a writer and “time expert.” (As in her research-backed body of work is on time and how to manipulate it). By “manipulate,” she simply means being able to take control of our time by being more intentional with it. Her method involves tracking your activities and seeing which ones take up more time than necessary (as you deem it should, or not).

Time as a resource, a gift, is not as tangible as say money or other material things. According to Vanderkam, time is associated with memory. When we’re on a vacation, doing something new and exciting, or enjoying ourselves doing something or being with someone (or “doing” someone. Haha), we tend to be fully immersed into every moment, fully relishing every second, which is why time feels like it’s ticking fast and we can’t get enough of the experience. Meanwhile, if we’re doing something so familiar and everyday, or something we may hate, like our day job or having to small-talk with people we don’t seem to align with, time can feel slow and staggering.

I appreciate this insight far more than Eckhart Tolle’s “be in the now,” which I also agree with in some ways but let’s face it, we all can’t be fully in the now because time and space are relative according to Einstein, right? Even though I may be in the Now, my ego may be somewhere in the past, maybe at a time in my childhood when some needs were unmet, etcetera. So I may be here now but my auto-pilot responses to the present moment may not be being Present. And I think that’s OK, because we are human and how we navigate the world is through the “prism of expectations shaped by our past experiences,” said Jason Silva.

Vanderkam notes that the way to “manipulate” time is by creating more meaningful memories around it. Of course as humans we can’t always be happy, that’s never going to happen no matter how many Tony Robbins seminars we attend or how much cannabis we smoke. Life is suffering, that’s how it is. Deal with it.

But I guess what Vanderkam is trying to say is in those mundane moments, create more meaning. Whether it’s as simple as listening to songs we love while stuck in traffic, instead of crappy music on the radio, or creating more pleasant sensory experiences by say making ourselves a cup of tea as we’re ruminating our problems, or truly being “present” with the person we’re having dinner with, or trying something new every day to spice up an otherwise “normal” day, and so on.

And what about time tracking? Her method involves literally writing down every single thing that we spend time on on a day to day basis, but I personally find that a chore. I tried doing this activity and tracked my time for an afternoon but it just didn’t work for me; not only did I forget I was doing it, much of my time was also spent trying to make how I spend my time look good on paper (in short, fool myself).

I don’t really have much of a routine; our life right now can’t be routinary because we’re entrepreneurs, and how we spend our tomorrow is really determined by how today/yesterday went. I am trying to wake up at more or less the same time every day, and stick to a morning routine, because the rest of the day is 95% all over the place. I know I need structure. One thing I rely on (aside from cups of coffee & 10 minute meditations) are to-do lists—I write down priorities for the day (for work, passions, and relationships), then work my day around it. I always assume that there needs to be time for other unexpected things, because yes as the day goes by things happen. I’m still working on my system really. We all have our own way of navigating our daily life, whatever our job or state of life. We have to admit though, we’re all still trying to “perfect” our own time manipulation systems.

Why? Maybe because time will always be this fluid, crazy thing. Memory is equally erratic. One of my most favourite people to have ever lived is Carl Jung, and I resonate with his collective unconscious theory. I believe we all have that deep infinite well of shared experiences from who knows where and who knows when. I know that when I meet people I just share a spark with, whether we know each other or not.

Maybe we really are limited as humans, limited in how we can understand intangible gifts like time and memory. I like it that way. Because maybe we’re supposed to stay in that state of wonder and curiosity, that maybe, we will never really know. We will never fully take control of our time, or form a hundred percent factually-accurate memories, or even move ourselves to be our most present selves every day.

But we can try to, I guess 

Why I Love Halloween and Why I Don't Believe It's Evil

By Ivee

I'm seeing Bible thumpers criticizing Halloween on my Facebook feed. "It's evil," they say. Personally, Halloween is one of my favorite seasons. I have great memories of it and i love seeing and taking part in all the creativity involved in  coming up with costumes and decorations.

When we were kids living in a typical barangay  in Quezon City (Bgy. Nayong Kanluran, then Bgy. Pinyahan), our parents would drive us all the way from QC to Alabang (or Elebeeeeng) so we could have a taste of Trick or Treat and how the richest of the rich do it. Ayala Alabang opened its doors to the meek middle class and it was a dream: an overflow of chocolates, candies, and Whammos (!), houses and mansions decorated in ways I've never seen before, and perfectly-thought out costumes. By the end of our Trick or Treating, my siblings and i would check our candies and chocolates and trade or share with each other. Yes, it was a time of sharing and generosity; we'd often look into our own overflowing treat bags and see what the other failed to score, and we'd give some.

Each year, we would look forward to Halloween as much as we'd look forward to Christmas. There was nothing "evil" about it. For me, the opposite of "evil" is "divine," and the Halloween experience was exactly that-- both as a kid and up to now.

After Halloween Trick or Treat, our parents would then take us to November 1 mass the next day.

It just makes me cringe how people impose their beliefs on others. It's one thing to raise our opinions, it's another thing to flat-out judge others and tell them they're immoral for enjoying something that's customary to them. What's hell and more evil, celebrating a time loaded with good memories, a time that brings people together, or ignoring the actual hell created by the real-life demons around us? I wonder why the very people who lambast Halloween, complete with Bible verses, can't seem to lambast politicians saying rape and killings are okay? Isn't the Bible filled with rules saying these are flat-out wrong? If only these Bible verses and the "morality" stance surface when discussing these topics too. How interestingly ironic.

People saying Halloween is wrong argue that the symbolism of ghosts, skeletons, witches, vampires are celebratory of evil. Is it? Or are we dressing up in these said images to mock evil, to say to its face, "We're so over you, we ridicule and make fun of you."

Why are we so afraid of these symbols anyway? Maybe because ghosts and skeletons remind us of the dead, witches of non-conformity, and vampires of blood suckers. But death is our truth, non-conformity is a risk we have to take sometimes, and being sucked by metaphorical vampires is something we all have to deal with at some point.

I think it is human nature to be fearful of things that are said to bring us closer to our mortality, to reject activities that seemingly pull us away from our suppposed purity and divinity.

Yet, what keeps us close to our goodness is not being fearful or dismissive, but leaning in to joy and oneness, which for many people, is what Halloween brings.

We believe what we believe, and no amount of Facebook memes can sway other people, unless of course they're actively choosing to change beliefs.

But that's just what I think. Don't take it too seriously, because this is just a blog post written by a girl thinking of her Halloween costume. 🤣

In Sickness and in Self

I've been feeling quite sick and under the weather lately, and not the i-have-the-flu kind. It's not debilitating enough to handicap me to do things or to sing. It's really more of a weak body that may just succcumb to full-blown sickness anytime soon.

stocking up on honey, vitamin C, and peppermint tea helps heaps

The weather in Manila has been unpredictable these past few weeks, shifting from extreme heat to heavy downpour without being considerate enough to at least warn us with gloomy skies or a casual pre-rain drizzle. This crazy weather is enough reason to be sick, for sure.

Still, I know me. The times I get sick almost always coincide with the times when I'm being too hard on myself, or the opposite. Since childhood I've been oddly aware of how my health goes. I know when I'm about to get sick, and know how to remedy it. Growing up with doctors really helped me gain that awareness. But more than the physical side of sickness, I've always had an understanding that sickness is akin to an alarm that goes off, a signal that we need to be in tune with ourselves once again.

It's my non-stop chattering mind that's been bugging me lately, worrying about the future, anxious about problems, as I am in limbo right now in some aspects of my life. It doesn't help that I'm turning freakin' 27 in a few weeks. Surely everyone has their own limbos, their own existential crises. If you're like me who constantly asks, "what is my purpose in life?", then you know how this limbo feels. Haha.

With laughs aside, being sick is something I'm actually grateful for, as it somehow *forces* me to sit down, take it easy, write, watch movies I don't have to analyze extensively...to just be kinder to myself. Self-sabotage is something I'm amazing at, and what I have to give up to live a full life, yes yes. (cue om meditation music with Zen master speaking in a monotone voice)

Sickness is a way to return to "self", to be authentic. It could mean anything for anyone-- being more decisive and making a leap, taking a pause from working too much and just relaxing, or living healthier and junking junk food (for the time being, or permanently if you may).

In my case, it's about eating more of this yummy porridge.

soothing 

Stay healthy :)

♫♪,

Ivee

Hanging with the Raisin Girls (and Boys) at Night of Hunters: Tori Amos Night 2013

Tori Amos will forever be my goddess, my music icon.

No, not in a fan girl way. Tori Amos is this entity of musicality, spirituality, sexuality, beauty, creativity, and consciousness... yet still so real. I love her in a way that I resonate with the drumming of her soul, something that I simply cannot explain. A bliss of another kind.

I was lucky enough to be part of Night of Hunters: The Annual Tori Amos Night at Conspiracy Garden Cafe, Visayas Avenue, which is held every August of the year to celebrate Tori dearie's birthday.

Can't believe my name is here. I'm still dazed.

The goddess turned 50 this year.

She's 50, yes! Unbelievable? Partly botox of course. But still...

I remember being 19 and simply dreaming of even just attending Tori Night. I'd read about it in the Internet. I knew there was a bunch of toriphiles (people who avidly listen to Tori Amos--okay, her "fanbase") in Manila, but I didn't know how to reach them. That time, everything was limited to Yahoo Groups and exclusive online communities. Thanks to Facebook, last year (2012), I was able to contact the organizers, Ms. Charms and Mr. Alden, and I gathered my carabao skin and, ahem, volunteered to perform for Tori Night. I don't normally present myself in such a thick-faced and shameless kinda way, but for Tori, I would!

Imagine the bliss I felt when I got to meet people who loved Tori the way I did; imagine a room packed with people jamming to her songs! Tori isn't very well-known in the mainstream, and as much as I would like everyone to like her, I only know a handful of people who genuinely do. (call me weird)

This is me performing during last year's Tori Amos Night at Conspiracy Garden Cafe:

 

 Sleeps with Butterflies

I was in an unexplainable form of ecstasy that night, more than that blissful feeling of eating ice cream, seriously. Better than any addicting drug. This was the weed of music. The weed of TORI.

For this year's Tori Night, I was even more ecstatic to find out that a bunch of artists I look up to would be performing as well! Wawi Navarroza, Kate Torralba, & Tao Aves (who performed last year too). I was starstruck. My love for Tori and her piano-playing has led me to share a piano/stage with those artists. You are cosmic, Tori.

Kate, Wawi, and Tao.
(Kate's photo from a video screenshot from her FB; Tao's photo from her FB profile)

 

Meanwhile, this is me, the wannabe, attempting to "do a Tori":
 

Far from this, of course:

Looking forward to next year's Tori Amos Night!

In the meantime, I'll have to make do with performances at home with my dad as my loyal audience.

Enjoy the torgasm!

♫♪,

Ivee

On Iron Man 3, Terrorists, and an Outdated Lupang Hinirang

(written- April 24-25, 11pm-2.30am; edited & posted somewhat later for fear of being labeled a spoiler :p)

I can’t sleep.

Aside from the stimulants that I took today—Café Latte, Caramel Macchiato, 3-in-1 coffee, and black tea (in separate cups of course, during different times of the day, and not the kind that costs more than fifty pesos, really), one concoction is keeping me awake.

Iron Man 3.

So now I have decided to just open MS Word to fizz all these off. My adrenaline pumps up hyperactively after watching a movie, show, or concert that I tremendously like. I remember watching The Repertory Philippines production of The Wiz as a 5-year-old, and I was so in awe that I thought about it all night and slept in kindergarten class the next day. I woke up to the sound of our teacher’s voice, Mrs. De Oro, discussing the different modes of transportation (“Ivannee, what is a tuk-tuk?”, I think she asked me that as punishment).

My friends Kay, Shamee, and I were able to catch the 7.30pm showing of Iron Man 3. Kay, who is one of the most energetic and endorphin-filled people I know, helped elevate the excitement of every action-packed scene throughout the movie. We were giving each other high-fives during epic superhero or cheesy romantic scenes, and she made me belt out “Oh My Gosh!”, complete with hand-covering-the-mouth-wide-eyed reaction. Meanwhile, Shamee agreed that the Lupang Hinirang in the beginning of the trailers had a handful of boo-boo’s and was irresponsibly outdated (Aetas were pictured in random “indigenous” garb. Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo was the last president featured, with the caption “A Strong Republic” under her name. That made us say “Whattt?” 90s-rapper-style while mouthing the National Anthem. Arrest us now for breaking the law). We also agreed that the image of a terrorist with a long beard and a Middle-Eastern persona was so passé and stereotypical (more of this later).

Overall, there were no dull moments in the movie. Much more, along with the edge-of-your-seat action, Iron Man 3 is also thought-provoking and relevant. Now I am no movie critic whatsoever; the closest I’ve gotten to doing a movie review was when I said “Titanic is so long and boring!” when I was nine, “Titanic is so long, but I just realized, Leo de Caprio is cute” when I was fourteen, “Titanic made me cry” when I was seventeen, and “The character of Winslet, Rose, is projecting an image of a/an ‘insert-nerdy-Psychology-book-neurotic-term-here’ “ when I was nineteen and taking up Psychology, thereby over-analyzing everything (I still do up to now).

It greatly helps that I have not read a single review of Iron Man 3. You see, I’m one of those gullible loons who believe movie and music writers more than I believe journalists from CNN or the Philippine Daily Inquirer. Among my favorite writers throughout my adolescence and up to now are Igan D’ Bayan and Ms. Regina Belmonte, who write about the Philippine art scene, mainstream and alternative music and films, popular culture, and all kinds of reviews. As a teenager, I believed everything they wrote, cut out their column illustrations and pasted them on my scrapbook, and got up early in the morning every Friday to read their stuff. I trusted them much more than I trusted the front page news, because I knew they were authentic in their writing. They wrote what they believed in, filtered nothing, and they didn’t care if the readers agreed or not. Mr. D’ Bayan’s writing influenced me a lot and he reinforced much insight and contributed to a wider worldview, which I personally could not extract from the front page news, in most academic textbooks, or in chick-literature.

This review, however, could end up turning into a fan girl review, so brace yourselves.

How was Iron Man 3? Below are three things that I liked (and a few things I did not like) about the movie:

1. Pepper Potts

It is refreshing that every now and then, the image of “damsel in distress” is deleted and replaced with “strong, smart woman with the abs”. Though the abs part is totally irrelevant, it’s still a breather from the big-boobs, skimpy/girly outfit, and far-away stare that dot the image of women in movies. Though Ms. Potts was used as bait for Tony Stark, which is typical in superhero movies I suppose, she played a huge role in saving his life and his essence. My favorite part was when she wore the Iron Man suit. Ms. Potts also is, corny and hazardously cheesy as it may sound, Tony/Iron Man’s anchor. (There, I said it! It’s so cheesy you can’t take it that you’re almost lactose-intolerant!) Instead of girl-needs-guy-to-redeem-herself ala all horrendous Nicolas Sparks movies, it is the reverse. Well actually, NO. That’s not the case, really.

They don’t need each other. They live for a higher purpose, something beyond themselves, and their relationship is just there to fuel that, not to complete themselves or their lives. Unlike Spiderman where Peter is totally smitten with Mary Jane (though I like spidey, but that’s another story).

“I wake up every day with a woman beside me who still has her soul,” Tony says in the movie. (or something like that)

Are you vomiting yet due to the cheesiness?

2. The Image of a Terrorist, Cleared

In the earlier-to-middle part of Iron Man 3, I had raised eyebrows about the villain, Mandarin (played by Sir Ben Kingsley, a severely talented actor). Typically, he seemed so... typical. He’s like every terrorist we know (as portrayed by media that is)- Osama Bin Laden-ish with the long beard, the Middle-Eastern accent. I was murmuring in disagreement, I was almost disgusted. Hollywood was boxing in stereotypes once again. And what’s with long beards? In the movie, Mandarin appears on tv, arousing a big scare throughout the entire United States of America.  There were also scenes picturing women in burqa (attire of women in some Islamic traditions) and men in taqiyah (caps worn by Muslim men) being interrogated.

And then, it happened. The clearing.

In the latter part of the movie, Iron Man finds the headquarters of this terrorist (in Florida, not in Istanbul or Kabul), only to discover that this Middle-Eastern-looking guy is actually a British marijuana enthusiast from Liverpool who is also a convincing stage actor. All along, he was simply playing a role; he was a mere representative, someone to promote fear. His image, after all, is what the world thinks a terrorist should be.

In truth, the real mastermind terrorist is a white guy in a suit (Yes! Now we’re talking!), who holds both science and sad beginnings in his hands. For me, this earns the movie plus points. It is made clear that “terrorist” doesn’t necessarily have to be the “terrorist” that we think.

After all, how many people do we know have overt/covert pre-conceived biases against groups of people wearing burqas or taqiyahs? Okay I’ll say it- Muslims? I personally know a guy who hates Muslims, all of them. And this guy is educated (complete with a Masters degree), but his hate overpowers him that not even his brilliant mind can fathom the concepts of peace and diversity. You might be asking: what does this have to do with terrorism? Well, I think it all starts from there. Hollywood, media—these biggies reinforce the hate or ignorance that is kept within us. Remember the Philippine Daily Inquirer controversy of a woman in a burqa shaking hands with PNoy? No? Well, click here (but finish reading this first, darling).

Interestingly, in the comic book, the Mandarin is Chinese (obvious ba?). Why did they not portray him as Chinese then? Is it because the image of an Asian terrorist is less threatening than a Middle-Eastern?

Oh, and I personally did not like the portrayal of Persons with Disabilities as angry and sad people seeking for revenge and redemption by succumbing to a mad science experiment (of the sad smart terrorist) which turns them into monsters. That is a little unempowering.

3. Tony Stark’s Process

We know Tony Stark as a suave braggart who has every reason to swank. After all, he is Iron Man, swoon-worthy, intelligent, good-looking, innovative. He gets the girls. The world is in love/in hate with him.

In the past two Iron Man movies, we witnessed his transition from materialistic corporate guy who sleeps with every hot woman to socially-responsible person who shifts from creating weapons of mass destruction to armors of national security. He’s had his issues with his father re-surfaced, which provided an empathic view for us to understand his psyche.

In Iron Man 3, he experiences anxiety attacks and insomnia. His billion-dollar house blows up along with his fancy cars, his laboratory, everything that he materially has. He lands in a small town, all-cold, stealing a parka from a Native American statue. His anxiety attacks worsen. Thanks to a kid who helps him (not only by allowing Tony to use his house as a laboratory, or giving him a tuna sandwich, but also therapist-style) and says “Okay just breathe. You’re the mechanic right? Then build something”, Tony realizes his essence—he builds and fixes things.

There is something very human about this. It is that cliché that I know you’re expecting from me (I’m a cliché fan, yes)- Iron Man is only iron from the outside, but deep down he is also flesh, hormones, nerves, trauma, and everything that makes up any human being. Be-ing.

In the end, his mechanical heart is removed and he is back to functioning with all his arteries and ventricles  intact. What a simple yet endearing way to cap the story.

And I guess I should make a conclusion now. It is almost 3am and I have work tomorrow, people at work will notice my eye bags and attribute my spaced-out state to my lack of sleep.

Spaced-out is always my state anyway, but right now, I’m still gushing over Iron Man 3 and Robert Downey Jr. like a cheesy fan girl.

Visiting Vigan

Last February, I got a chance to visit Vigan, Ilocos Sur.

The time of my visit was perfect.
You see, I prefer greeting a place during off-peak seasons, when prices are humble & in their "purest" state, when the locals need not be disgruntled by the massive number of tourists invading their territory, when indigenous peoples need not wear their traditional attires (and many city dwellers are actually "fooled" that IP's still wear their traditional attire on a day-to-day basis, which for me is a symptom of what I'd like to call "Ignorant City Dweller Syndrome", or ICDS. [For instance, there were a few guys from Manila who visited Baguio during Panagbenga, asking, "asaan na ang mga Igorot?". Well, the lady in front of him, a Baguio local, snapped, "Lahat po kami dito, Igorot. Anong hinahanap mo, may buntot?"] No offense meant. I am a city dweller myself).

Simply put, when the place is in its most natural vibe. And yes, I bet you're thinking of the first scene in Beauty and the Beast wherein Belle goes about her regular routine and the bakers are all singing "bonjour, bonjour". How very natural, how very everyday.

I try my best not to be too tourist-y. Well, I try. (Though I can't help but take photos of everything! Maybe that's the reason why my cheap and only camera got snatched 9 months ago. The Universe was probably trying to tell me, "Ivee, stop taking too many photos and start seeing everything for real.")

Vigan has always been one of my dream Philippine destinations because people say it's like Paris (yes, I still fall for the "the-West-is-more-dominant" belief sometimes, and I am sorry. I am only human and weak). I, being a hopeless romantic moody Cancer who spends 200 pesos to watch chick flick movie cliches, grabbed the opportunity to take the 8-10-hour Dominion Bus ride to Vigan from Cubao.

So, after sitting and snoring in the bus from 10pm-7am, I jumped off it with much anticipation despite a horrible runny nose. The sun was saying good morning so I took the opportunity to shamelessly ask someone to take a photo of me. Yep. Shamelessly. With messy hair and no contact lenses (so technically all I could see was this Impressionist painting of Vigan, with my 400-degree myopia)

Prior to coming to Vigan, I Google Map'ed the place, researched about things to do and places to see (from helpful blogs and other online sources, as well as from friends who have been there), and figured that the central was compact enough to walk around. Well, it was.

My advice is this: simply print out a map of Vigan or get one from the Heritage Village office, and you're well on your way. Of course, you need a bit of map-reading skills (Thanks to the men in my family, I can read maps. I like boasting about it). Other than that, there's no real need to ride the tricycle unless for far destinatons like Baluarte and Hidden Garden, or even the kalesa (unless you really want to). Riding a kalesa in Vigan is a totally different experience from riding it in Manila. A kalesa in this city has a flat rate of 150 pesos per hour, so I suggest that you ride it after you have seen the tourist spots, so Manong Kalesa Driver need not offer to take you to the tourist spots, which can take hours and hours. Walking will spare you 20% of your budget. 

The main street.

Now I won't be boring you with the blow-by-blow details of the itinerary. There was no laid out plan, and I love it that way. We simply allowed ourselves to openly experience and discover Vigan spontaneously, with only a map to rely on, a list of "places to see" from the Heritage Village tourism office, and a couple of "Agyamanak"s (Thank You's) and "Sagmamano Daytoy"s (How much is this?). My broken and long-forgotten Ilokano-speaking skills surely were to be tested.

Here are some Vigan discoveries:
(Thanks to my friend for lending me a camera. Because you know, mine was snatched in the atrocious Mall of Asia. Ugh I hate malls.)

Food

Tummy Talk Restaurant
along Calle Crisologo

Authentic Pinakbet! (or Pinakkkbutttt)

Never forget to try bagnet.

Empanada stall
along Calle Salcedo

So darn good!

Amazing how they make these empanadas.

Empanada Special, with eggs, togue, and beef.

Cafe Leona
along Calle Crisologo

A much-recommended restaurant. The food was so good, we ate here twice.

 

They have it al fresco-stye at night.

Seafoods, seaweeds, and eggplant.

Hello cholesterol.

Of course, I can't leave without trying their tablea de cacao. I am a tsokolate addict. I think I should go to rehab for this, seriously.

Old Houses and Mansions

I've always been in love with old houses. If you're just like me, who imagines the love stories abounding the walls of homes built way back the 1800's, who desires to keep these structures preserved for, well, forever, Vigan is the place for you. If Rome managed to preserve their structures, why can't we?

In the Syquia Mansion.

 

In the Crisologo Museum, the mansion of the Crisologo family

I might decide to update this, but for now I'll leave it hanging here.

Because I want you to visit Vigan too, if you haven't.