just a few corrections on my last entry, entitled Ceboom.
Number one: The spa at Maribago Bluewater Resort is called Amuma, the Visayan word for pampering. It is Buyong Maribago, Mactan Island, Cebu, Philippines. Check out www.bluewater.com.ph.
Number two: The wine bar and cellar and deli in which I met Cebu Governor Gwen Garcia is not Azzasi, but Tinderbox.
It's Labor Day today. And just came back from another hour of pampering, a Diamond Peel, at Dermastrata at SM Southmall. Nothing quite like the Chi Spa and Amuma in Cebu, but I fell asleep and my face now is as soft and supple and clean as a baby's. Somehow, at the back of mind, I'm wondering: Are these day spas at the mall following stringent measures of hygiene? Dermstrata smells and feels clean and I make it a point to have them change the towels in front of me, but I hate it that the therapists talk to each other as though the customers are invisible. Tried to shush them several times, but now I know better: I put on earplugs and get lost in my iPod throughout the treatment.
But theese day spas are mushrooming sitting next to each other all over the place. A new one just opened yesterday, perfuming the air at SM Southmall with lavender. I forget the name, but it looks quite high end, with some Thai wooden structure bordering the entrance. Will try it soon enough.
Monday, April 30, 2007
CEBOOM
Just got back from Heaven.
I spent the weekend in Cebu, where, for two nights in a row, I had my muscles kneaded like dough, my flesh rubbed, my bones stretched, and all my stresses melted away through the Filipino's answer to the Thai and Swedish massage, hilot.
The first hilot was at the Chi Spa Village at Shangri-La Mactan. It was the second time for me, though the first time about two years ago when Chi had just opened had too many distractions what with all the extras thrown in to turn my brief indulgence into a five-hour total relaxation package, inclusive of a hydromassage, a facial, a foot treatment, etcetera, etcetera. Too much of a good thing, indeed, is not as pleasing, so on this second time I made sure I had only one hour and a half to lose myself in the pampering, healing, rejuvenating powers of touch.
The next night was at Ayuyam, the wellness center at the new extension of the old Maribago Blue Waters Resort, which was not as lavish as the Chi experience in terms of ambience and extra touches, but just as good (BUT then again just a teeny-weeny bit less expensive). Nevertheless, I loved my room at Maribago so much better than my room at the Shang, if only because it welcomed me with a huge bathroom with a tub a-bloom with bougainvilla. The spa was like twenty steps away and the grounds seemed private enough I felt comfortable walking back to my room across the pool area at two in the morning with nothing on but a pair of flimsy shorts, what I wore during my hilot.
This last trip to Cebu was also special because of my discovery of Abaca, a new restaurant, which is really just the dining outlet of a nine-room boutique hotel on the bank of the Mactan Channel. Owned by Korean Anna Ido Hyatt, who really spent most of her time as a fashion marketing specialist in Hong Kong, and her Australian chef husband Jayson, the resort has yet to pen, but the restaurant is already packing it in, what with great food and a great ambience, overlooking the channel, but feeling more like a hip resto in, say, Sydney or Hong Kong or Malibu (not that I've been to the last one). On the night I went, I bumped into Tourism Secretary Ace Durano and he was very gracious enough to introduce me to his wife and his friends. They were there to celebrate his birthday. Anna also took a lot of time to talk to me and my companions and she was so much fun, modern, candid, and totally sophisticated.
The next evening I spent chatting with Cebu governor Gwen Garcia over French wine, cheese, and cold cuts at the ultra cool (literally) wine cellar at Assazi (not sure about the name). Again, it was refreshing to talk to a politician like this hip governor in her slim jeans, stilleto boots, and a tiny shirt that revealed a Scarlet O'hara waistline, minus the corset. The place was also quite international in flavor, thoroughly sleek and modern, with a lot of glass and perfect lighting.
Cebu is really turning out to be quite as chic as Hong Kong in places. No wonder more and more of the affluent Cebuanos are beginning to overlook the Philippines on their where-to-go-for-fun map. Next month, there will be direct flights to and from Shanghai at the Mactan International Airport, so I guess more and more tourists will have to skip Manila on their way to Paradise.
As for me, I believe I am going back three more times before July, one of which is to accept the governor's invitation to experience what she calls suroy-suroy or suri-suri (no time to check right now) and the other to take Shangri-La up on its offer to arrange a trip to acquaint me more thoroughly with the fashionable side of this happening city.
So Ceboom Ceboom, here I come (again and again)!
I spent the weekend in Cebu, where, for two nights in a row, I had my muscles kneaded like dough, my flesh rubbed, my bones stretched, and all my stresses melted away through the Filipino's answer to the Thai and Swedish massage, hilot.
The first hilot was at the Chi Spa Village at Shangri-La Mactan. It was the second time for me, though the first time about two years ago when Chi had just opened had too many distractions what with all the extras thrown in to turn my brief indulgence into a five-hour total relaxation package, inclusive of a hydromassage, a facial, a foot treatment, etcetera, etcetera. Too much of a good thing, indeed, is not as pleasing, so on this second time I made sure I had only one hour and a half to lose myself in the pampering, healing, rejuvenating powers of touch.
The next night was at Ayuyam, the wellness center at the new extension of the old Maribago Blue Waters Resort, which was not as lavish as the Chi experience in terms of ambience and extra touches, but just as good (BUT then again just a teeny-weeny bit less expensive). Nevertheless, I loved my room at Maribago so much better than my room at the Shang, if only because it welcomed me with a huge bathroom with a tub a-bloom with bougainvilla. The spa was like twenty steps away and the grounds seemed private enough I felt comfortable walking back to my room across the pool area at two in the morning with nothing on but a pair of flimsy shorts, what I wore during my hilot.
This last trip to Cebu was also special because of my discovery of Abaca, a new restaurant, which is really just the dining outlet of a nine-room boutique hotel on the bank of the Mactan Channel. Owned by Korean Anna Ido Hyatt, who really spent most of her time as a fashion marketing specialist in Hong Kong, and her Australian chef husband Jayson, the resort has yet to pen, but the restaurant is already packing it in, what with great food and a great ambience, overlooking the channel, but feeling more like a hip resto in, say, Sydney or Hong Kong or Malibu (not that I've been to the last one). On the night I went, I bumped into Tourism Secretary Ace Durano and he was very gracious enough to introduce me to his wife and his friends. They were there to celebrate his birthday. Anna also took a lot of time to talk to me and my companions and she was so much fun, modern, candid, and totally sophisticated.
The next evening I spent chatting with Cebu governor Gwen Garcia over French wine, cheese, and cold cuts at the ultra cool (literally) wine cellar at Assazi (not sure about the name). Again, it was refreshing to talk to a politician like this hip governor in her slim jeans, stilleto boots, and a tiny shirt that revealed a Scarlet O'hara waistline, minus the corset. The place was also quite international in flavor, thoroughly sleek and modern, with a lot of glass and perfect lighting.
Cebu is really turning out to be quite as chic as Hong Kong in places. No wonder more and more of the affluent Cebuanos are beginning to overlook the Philippines on their where-to-go-for-fun map. Next month, there will be direct flights to and from Shanghai at the Mactan International Airport, so I guess more and more tourists will have to skip Manila on their way to Paradise.
As for me, I believe I am going back three more times before July, one of which is to accept the governor's invitation to experience what she calls suroy-suroy or suri-suri (no time to check right now) and the other to take Shangri-La up on its offer to arrange a trip to acquaint me more thoroughly with the fashionable side of this happening city.
So Ceboom Ceboom, here I come (again and again)!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
CHO SENUNG HUI
Hey Ipsy,
Been very busy now that I have a double job and if lunch tomorrow proves fruitful, I'll have a third, too. Was out with my previously US, now Singapore-based friend Y who celebrated his birthday at anothe friend J's house. It was fun. As usual Y was his judgmental self. Why do i always feel that he is sizing me up, not so much concerned about where I have been and where I am headed, as long as he can make it clear to me, without leaving any evidence, that he is not impressed enough?
Anyway, that is no cause for alarm. Maybe it's just me. I guess I will just paste here an editorial I wrote for this coming Friday's edition of my weekender, a magazine that comes out with the Friday issue of Manila Bulletin.
Here it is:
LUCKY PEOPLE
This isn’t weekend reading, so it’s perfectly all right if you get right past this page and on to the next pages of pure leisure. On the other hand, since another weekend is upon us, it won’t hurt to be reminded that here is yet another great opportunity to bond with the people we love and the people who might find their way into our lives as we make the most of the next work-free days.
BLURB: First be a person who needs people —Barbra Streisand
I spent last Sunday reading up on Cho Seung-Hui, stumbling upon his plays, Richard McBeef and Mr. Brownstone. Cho’s former Creative Writing classmate Ian McFarlane, who posted the plays on AOL, described the works as “twisted” and “macabre,” but to me they were simply an assault to authority, parents and teachers, very sad at best.
In October, 2002, I was in the Washington D.C./Virginia/Maryland area, practically on the trail of John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, the infamous snipers, as they were making their way to America’s history of violence, killing 10 people on a senseless shooting spree. Arriving at Union Station from New York, I found it totally a new experience to have to stay low, practically walking on all fours and making a shield out of parked cars, perchance the sniper was aiming his weapon at me.
I’ve been to many, supposedly richer parts of the world, where people are mostly alone. If only because in my immediate world there is always someone, whether a grandson or a grandniece, to accompany them, I find it sad, for instance, to see old women by themselves on a park bench in Paris or eating by their lonesome at a diner in New York. Maybe, it’s a blessing that here in the Philippines it’s more the norm to have as many as 10 people cramping a two-bedroom apartment, cousins and a distant aunt included. There is just so much room for self-indulgence, wallowing in self-pity or enraging yourself, when you are mostly on your own. Ever wonder why all serial killers, including Cho, are loners and why there is hardly any serial killer in Philippine history? With nobody to sort out their big issues with on why things are the way they are, these loners just have to shock the world so at last they can have its attention.
What a blessing in disguise, indeed, that in our part of the world solitude is a precious, often rare luxury! While people do love us and hurt us in equal doses, they do help us test our ammunition against challenges, without which, what is the point of living? More important, they do help us expand the scope of our experience, which is exactly what we need to understand this complicated world a little better.
With hope, you can spend this weekend with the people who can assure you there is always at least one person out there waiting to welcome you with open arms should you have the need for some company. This weekend, find time to say a prayer of thanks for the people who make up your life, keeping you on the ground, rather than leaving you to float, helpless and alone, in the bottomless pit of pointless hate, rage, and sadness.
Happy weekend!
A
Been very busy now that I have a double job and if lunch tomorrow proves fruitful, I'll have a third, too. Was out with my previously US, now Singapore-based friend Y who celebrated his birthday at anothe friend J's house. It was fun. As usual Y was his judgmental self. Why do i always feel that he is sizing me up, not so much concerned about where I have been and where I am headed, as long as he can make it clear to me, without leaving any evidence, that he is not impressed enough?
Anyway, that is no cause for alarm. Maybe it's just me. I guess I will just paste here an editorial I wrote for this coming Friday's edition of my weekender, a magazine that comes out with the Friday issue of Manila Bulletin.
Here it is:
LUCKY PEOPLE
This isn’t weekend reading, so it’s perfectly all right if you get right past this page and on to the next pages of pure leisure. On the other hand, since another weekend is upon us, it won’t hurt to be reminded that here is yet another great opportunity to bond with the people we love and the people who might find their way into our lives as we make the most of the next work-free days.
BLURB: First be a person who needs people —Barbra Streisand
I spent last Sunday reading up on Cho Seung-Hui, stumbling upon his plays, Richard McBeef and Mr. Brownstone. Cho’s former Creative Writing classmate Ian McFarlane, who posted the plays on AOL, described the works as “twisted” and “macabre,” but to me they were simply an assault to authority, parents and teachers, very sad at best.
In October, 2002, I was in the Washington D.C./Virginia/Maryland area, practically on the trail of John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, the infamous snipers, as they were making their way to America’s history of violence, killing 10 people on a senseless shooting spree. Arriving at Union Station from New York, I found it totally a new experience to have to stay low, practically walking on all fours and making a shield out of parked cars, perchance the sniper was aiming his weapon at me.
I’ve been to many, supposedly richer parts of the world, where people are mostly alone. If only because in my immediate world there is always someone, whether a grandson or a grandniece, to accompany them, I find it sad, for instance, to see old women by themselves on a park bench in Paris or eating by their lonesome at a diner in New York. Maybe, it’s a blessing that here in the Philippines it’s more the norm to have as many as 10 people cramping a two-bedroom apartment, cousins and a distant aunt included. There is just so much room for self-indulgence, wallowing in self-pity or enraging yourself, when you are mostly on your own. Ever wonder why all serial killers, including Cho, are loners and why there is hardly any serial killer in Philippine history? With nobody to sort out their big issues with on why things are the way they are, these loners just have to shock the world so at last they can have its attention.
What a blessing in disguise, indeed, that in our part of the world solitude is a precious, often rare luxury! While people do love us and hurt us in equal doses, they do help us test our ammunition against challenges, without which, what is the point of living? More important, they do help us expand the scope of our experience, which is exactly what we need to understand this complicated world a little better.
With hope, you can spend this weekend with the people who can assure you there is always at least one person out there waiting to welcome you with open arms should you have the need for some company. This weekend, find time to say a prayer of thanks for the people who make up your life, keeping you on the ground, rather than leaving you to float, helpless and alone, in the bottomless pit of pointless hate, rage, and sadness.
Happy weekend!
A
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