Feels just like it should

After more than four years of procrastination and countless excuses, rationalizations, and postponements, I finally took the HIV Antibody Test again.

Since taking it for the first time in 1995, I have taken the HIV Antibody Test once a year. As a trained HIV/AIDS counselor, I know the importance of taking the test on a regular basis. And for a long time I had no problem sticking with this edict even if I think I knew that my levels of risks remained the same. I was scared when I first took the test in '95 because of my sexual behavior. But after receiving my first training on HIV/AIDS, I have tried to do have sex as safely as possible. I was a stickler for monogamy then. But in between relationships I fucked like a rabbit.

After my first test I have always viewed the HAT as some sort of my affirmation of my so-called behavior change. As an AIDS advocate, I viewed testing negative as of the utmost importance. I always thought that people who work in the AIDS field has no reason or excuse to get infected with HIV. I deeply believed that AIDS workers who got infected sexually should leave the field in shame. As for me, I was always confident that I would test negative each time I took the test, which meant that my credibility as an AIDS advocate has remained untarnished.

Until 2003, about a year before I went to Cambodia. Things at work were not going well because our new executive director was a big blubbering idiot who has taken to burdening me with countless whimsical tasks. My three-year relationship with a philandering but beautiful liar was heading nowhere fast. I was stress eating, drinking a lot, and spending many sleepless nights that my pimples flared up as if I were a teenager again and dark circles formed around my eyes. I felt unattractive. 

My job required me to make regular trips to provinces in Southern Philippines to monitor the projects that our partner NGOs were implementing. These trips had always been strictly business for me. I'd get there usually at the first flight out of Manila, then start with work right after getting out of the airport and checking my luggage at the hotel. After all the meetings and site visits, I usually had dinner with our partners on the night before I returned to Manila. As Chewbacca said, "Garbage in, garbage out". 

But when the worms of discontent started boring holes in my disposition, my eyes began straying from the path that I cultivated so hard. And when the glances I threw away were returned, I was elated. I felt attractive again. And so, against my better (and repressed) nature, I began to sleep around during these field visits. It seemed that in every province, in every town I went to, I had at least one sexual partner. These encounters ranged from the frightening (when I went with someone who was clearly high on drugs and showed track marks on his arms) to the sublime (due to a show of unexpected tenderness from a burly construction worker).

After every episode I always told myself not to do it again but like a drug dependent I always did it again when the next opportunity came. In the city, I started going to my pre-1995 haunts to pick up men. In the cinema I met someone and in the span of about eight months we would have sex every time we saw each other. The sex we had was almost always penetrative and unprotected. Then on September of that year I went to India to attend a 2-week training. I have always thought Indian men to be very handsome but I never thought I would get some action in New Delhi because we were confined in a hotel. Besides, this was illegal in India. I could get arrested so finding sexual adventures in India was not my priority. Nevertheless, I let an employee of the hotel talk me into receiving a massage, for a small fee, from him. This of course, led to sex and in the 16 days I was in that hotel, I slept with him–and his friend–many times. These experiences were more than enough to make me stay away from my regular test.

The start of 2004 saw the complete dissolution of my relationship and things at work took a turn for the worse. Within three months I would be in Cambodia, initially on holiday then ended up staying. The well-known high prevalence of HIV deterred me from doing any sexual exploration of the country. I was determined to make a new life, sex included. I met a Cambodian who would eventually become my fifth lover. For months I was comforted by my newfound monogamy. But when we split at the start of 2005 I was completely distraught. By this time I was already familiar with the city. I began to explore its sexual geography in ways that were unfamiliar with my friends. And I slept with many men again, making sure each encounter was protected. Still, I kept putting off my regular test, even if I had my annual physical check-up.

2006 came and along with it, things and people from my past. For some reason my ex Kimrun and I found ourselves together again. And by this time, my apprehension towards taking the test has mutated into a terrible fear that gnawed at me so much that I really began to believe that I would certainly test positive should I undergo the HIV Antibody Test. This fear made to stay away from any talks of testing. It also affected our sex life. But why was I so afraid? It's not that I fear death. Besides, these days, with access to the right medicines and treatments, HIV infection is fairly manageable. So it wasn't fear of death or fear of getting sick chronically. 

I realized that my fear was borne out of deep shame. If I tested positive, I felt that I would lose all credibility in my work in the AIDS field. And that I failed in my personal advocacy. All my rancor and disdain for people I knew in the past who were very promiscuous in spite of doing AIDS work, people who visibly engaged in risky behavior then called themselves AIDS advocates, for people who said one thing and did another, and all feelings and judgments I repressed because I was a counselor got distilled into this bitter bile that I myself couldn't bear to swallow. When I dared say this to a friend, I was shocked at her reply. "If you test positive, it just means you slipped and got infected. It doesn't diminish you as a person. It just shows you're human, imperfect." I couldn't comprehend it at first but gradually my realization grew. She has a point. But this did not allay my fears. It will probably take me longer to unlearn my twisted beliefs.

Until one day, I decided. What the hell. Just take it and get it over and done with. I asked Kimrun to accompany me to the test and my heart expanded when he said he'd take the test with me. We went to this private clinic where all the staff did not speak a word of English. There goes my counseling, I thought. Kimrun told me we don't need it, since we already know about HIV and all that. While waiting for our turn I noticed that there were many male and female couples waiting with us. I asked Kimrun about it and smiling mischievously, he explained that this clinic catered mostly to couples who were about to get married. "So after our tests, we have to get married also," he said, laughing.

That same afternoon Kimrun came to my house and brought the results. The fact that he was able to get my results was enough to clue me in on my result. Had I tested positive, the clinic would have asked me to go there and receive a proper counseling and referral. So there. I am relishing my test results with a resolve to stay this way and a broader understanding of myself in case something happens to the contrary.

And in case you want to know, the sex got better after our tests!

It’s all coming back to me now

A few days ago I was pleasantly surprised to receive a message from a classmate whom I last seen in 1984. She apparently accomplished this feat through Friendster. I was more pleased when I learned that a group of them had been in touch for months now, meeting regularly and trying to track down the rest of our small class (14 boys and 10 girls). Some, like me, are already based abroad but nevertheless in touch. The wonders of modern communication!

Up until I received Melissa's message I have wondered, from time to time, what happened to the rest of the earliest friends I made in the accelerated class program of M. Hizon Elementary School in Manila. After graduating my parents decided that I should be in Bulacan during high school so I said good-bye to the city, coming back only when it was time to go to university. By then I had lost track of all of them, as childhood friends who get separated often did. I remember it saddened me to think of them because high school was an excruciating experience for me.

I was a sheltered boy who was suddenly released in this jungle of adolescents who were older and bigger, more athletic, and more socially adept than me. Plus my teachers made it known that I was this 'gifted' child who skipped a grade in elementary, thus enhancing my alien-ness in this environment. Lacking what I think now as an adequate support structure (not even my parents understood me), my grades suffered and many times I felt that I would die before finishing high school. 

But I did finish high school, and after two turbulent years in university, my university life stabilized. My thoughts of dying at a young age dissipated, my study habits (and grades) improved, and I even began to acquire friends, which I considered to be the greatest feat. The friends I made in university are one of the oldest friends that I have now.

And now, I am faced with the very real possibility of renewing my ties with the friends I made when I was 9 years old. I have corresponded with a few of them, and I am excited with the possibility.

Incidentally, last night, I saw 'The Correspondents' on TFC and the story was on gifted children. It followed Shaira Luna, one of the most known Filipino gifted children because of she was featured in a series of TV ads for an infant formula. Contrary to most people's expectations, she didn't finish her college education, which she started at age 13. Pierced and tattooed, she now dabbles in photography. To the eyes of the people around her, she is rebellion personified. And I totally understand how she feels. There are parallels between the crises I went through as a young person and the ones that she is going through right now. 

Longing for missed childhood, remembering to try to have fun no matter what you do, taking time to stop and look at life, realizing that life is not always a horse race…

I wonder if any of my classmates had similar experiences. I guess I'll find out when I see them again, when we try to piece each others' lives for viewing and sharing.

Postcards from the edge 2

Movie sequels have a tendency to suck big time, every body knows that. While this is not a movie, I hope you'll still find this as interesting as the previous photographic account of my China adventure. As sequels go, may nadagdag sa cast: Pipi went with me on this journey. May cameo appearance pa ng kanyang jowa, na ang hirap i-pronounce ng name so we'll just refer to her as pipi's GF.

This was taken at the entrance to the great wall at Mutianyu. We decided to go to this part of the great wall, which is not as famous as the one in Badaling. We heard that although there are cable cars in Badaling, it has been commercialized so much that it is difficult to enjoy the sights. So here we went, less popular among tourists (although there were plenty of them also). Ang hirap ng anti-social!

Two views of the challenging climb that is the great wall. There is an inclined walk-way, and then there are the stairs that rival the steepness of Angkor Wat's stairs. Mas malaki nga lang ng kaunti ang baitang dito. Kung inakyat ko ba ito? Hindi rin! I told Pipi, "I can climb these stairs but I will have to be brought down on a gurney!" I still remember when I first climbed the stairs at Oudong mountain & Angkor Wat in Cambodia kaya pinairal ko na lang ang zoom ng aking camera.

One more view of the great wall. They say that the climb to the first outpost and back takes almost an hour. And I took their word dahil hindi ko naman pinangarap i-prove or i-refute yun, noh? Saka, pag nadapa at nahulog ako doon, I'm sure hindi naman nila ako dadamayan lalo na at nagtatalbog ako sa steps. Baka mamatay sila sa kakatawa. kung hindi man, papatayin ko sila pag pinagtawanan nila ako!

Dahil hindi kami nag-climb every mountain ni Pipi, we decided to explore the buildings on the foot of the mountain. Bear in mind that this was really a military installation, kaya may fort, may barracks, and all that. This was taken in the fort, which was where the conscripts were trained. In fact, the characters on this marble marker says that, "Whoever stands by this marker is now a REAL MAN." Nung nalaman ko ito, siyempre dali-dali akong tumayo sa tabi nito at nagpa-picture. So ngayon, puwede ko nang ipagsigawan na ako ay isang TUNAY NA LALAKI! Ahahahahahahaha (laughter a la Elvira Manahan)!!!

I also realized na tutoo pala ang korte ng mga bundok na nakikita ko dati sa mga Chinese brush paintings! Akala ko e, pardon the pun, drowing lang yun. Ganun nga pala ang shape nila! Evidence po ito.

This is Changli, apparently the most preserved of the 13 Ming Tombs. Why Ming tombs? Mahilig ba sila sa pusa? Ang corny ko! Of the 16 emperors during the Ming dynasty, 13 were buried in the same area that is surrounded by 3 mountains. Of the 13, 3 are open to tourists so we went to Changli dahil nga it's the most preserved so mas marami makikita.

In Changli, there is a great sacrificial hall called… walang tatawa! Hall of Eminent Favours! Ang saya ng name, di ba? Like the temple of Heaven, this hall boasts of a wooden structure na hindi pinakuan. The roof is supported by 32 giant wooden pillars each carved from a single tree. You can see one of the pillars on the right hand of this photo. 3-4 people ang yayakap dun sa pillar. Pero ang punch-line, hindi raw nakabaon yung pillars sa sahig ng hall, na gawa din sa kahoy. Parang gusto kong sumigaw ng, "Talaga?!" tapos ay sipain yung pillar kung ano ang mangyayari. Kaya lang sabi ni Pipi pangit daw ang mga jails sa China, kaya quiet na lang ako. Yung mama na nakaupo sa gitna ay si Emperor Yongle, one of the better emprerors ng China. Tomb niya itong Changli. Mabait daw siya sa mga tao and he reformed the feudal social structure chuva. Kaya pala maiksi reign niya (halos 21 years lang). Hehehe!

This is the way out of the Changli tomb. Di ba ang kapal ng wall? Naaliw din ako actually sa pic na ito kasi para bang sumakabilang-buhay ang dating nung mga naglalakad. La lang!

This is where the cocoons of the silkworm are processed. Kuha ito sa isang silk factory. This is also where I said goodbye to around $300.00 when I bought a couple of silk comforters with silk covers (for my mother). Pag talaga maganda, mahal! Hu-hu-hu!!!

Scenes sa downtown Beijing. Further proof na size queens talaga ang mga Chinese! Hehehe! Kaloka ang design nitong building on the left photo. Look closely and find out why!

I don't know about you but before I went to China, I imagined seeing loads and loads of bicycles on the streets. Pero hindi po ito nangyari kasi on the main thoroughfares, hindi na daw masyadong allowed ang bicycles and their version of the pedicab. But in the older parts (includes residential areas) of the city, the bike remains ubiquitous. Eto ang proof: bicycle lanes!

On my last night in Beijing, Pipi and his GF took me shopping. We went to both upscale and mass-oriented markets where I (tried to) buy gifts to bring back to Cambodia. I went there confident of my bargaining skills but when I heard this girl haggle, talbog ako! Puwedeng ituro sa college ang kanyang bargaining skills, sa true lang! Ako yung nanliliit sa kanyang pagtawad! Ching! Buti na lang isinama siya ni Pipi, nakatipid ako ng ilang dolyares. Kaya ko rin sya ikinikuwento sa inyo ngayon! 

Oki? Oki! 

Postcards from the edge

Bago pa umiral ang aking katamaran, bago pa manlabo ang aking pang-alala sa king Chinese adventure, ise-share ko na ang ilang photos na aking kinuha. hope ya enjoy viewing these as I enjoyed taking these shots. 

This is the gate to the Forbidden City or otherwise known as the Palace Museum. Ganyan talaga sya kalaki, lending truth to my theory na lupain talaga ng size queens ang China.  

Nung i-upload ko ito sa Flickr, ang caption ko dito ay "every home should have these". Door Lions po ito, and ideally placed in the main entrance of Chinese houses. Of course, these lions should be in proportion with the house they are guarding. Kahit po sila size queen, nag-iisip din naman sila, noh! 

One of the many throne rooms. This apparently belongs to the emperor. The empress her her own throne, in another building! Pero aminin, ang building na ito ay nasa likod ng building ng emperor. Na-realize ko tuloy, pag pala empress ka, lagi mo tanaw ang puwitan ng emperor. Mwahahaha! 

This was taken in the imperial garden, which is filled with flowering plants, ancient trees and a number of these huge gazebos (or pavillion daw, sabi nung literature). By the placements of these structures, I imagined they served as rest stops for the empress and her huge entourage when she's walking around this equally huge garden.  

When I saw the bark of this particular tree, two words came into my mind: SLEEPY HOLLOW. Aminin, nai-imagine ko na lalabas dito si Christopher Walken sakay ng kanyang kabayo. If you look at it longer, you can almost see a face peering out. Awooo! This tree is said to be more than 300 years old. 

This is the Temple of Heaven. This is not part of the Forbidden City but the grounds surrounding this temple is said to be 4 times the size of the Forbidden City. Most of it is just trees and gardens, though. This massive pagoda is at the center. May religious function ito nung panahon ng hindi pa komunista ang China. The Temple is wooden at wala raw ni isang pako! Super wooden joints ang drama. Made me remember my wish to be a carpenter. 

This is the Summer Palace, where the royal family retreats pag di na nila ma-take ang init ng Beijing during summer. The Empress Dowager (my idol) was said to have supervised the building of this massive complex, which embraces a beautiful lake where freshwater pearls are abundant. This was taken from a boat I took to cross the complex. Masakit kaya sa paa lakarin, noh!? 

A closer view of the Palace, which is not open to the public. At saka, kahit open siya, matarik ang hagdan paakyat sa kanya! Hindi ko pinangarap akyatin ito on foot. The Empress Dowager was said to have used the Chinese army's entire war supply of silver to use as flooring of this palace. O di ba, ano'ng laban ni Mrs. Marcos sa kabonggahan?  Ayun, natalo tuloy sila sa giyera. Hihihi!

A view of the beautiful lake in the Summer Palace complex, kasama pa ang kamag-anak ni Grandma Willow. Ayun si Pocahontas, may payong na pink!

Parang ang haba na nito. I'll post the next photos tomorrow. Abangan! 

Could it be magic?

In the last few days I have seen (through cable TV and the internet) the frenzy surrounding the world-wide release of the final Harry Potter book. I read that UN workers in Afghanistan were able to purchase the much-hyped book through a clever logistics company. Imagine that. The world indeed gets smaller every day. Fortunately, Cambodia is insulated (for now) from this frenzy, except for the frequent airing of the last Harry Potter film at HBO. Its close neighbors Bangkok and Saigon have succumbed, I think, to Potter-mania but that hasn't happened here in quaint Phnom Penh.

Buti na lang!

I am not a fan of the Harry Potter books. I know that I'm probably in the minority on this but it is the truth. And please don't tell me that I am probably one of those critics who haven't even read any of the books. I did. I tried, at least. It was 1998 when I held the first Harry Potter book. A friend bought it and he was clearly enamored of the story. Since I somewhat trusted this friend's tastes in books, I gave it a go when he lent it to me. After about 20 pages, I started to skip lines and paragraphs (not a good sign). After 50 pages, I started to yawn (a really bad sign) and after about 20 pages more I couldn't hold it anymore. It failed to engage me, my open mind notwithstanding. I felt the same way reading 'The Celestine Prophecy', which sent me to sleep, in the 3 times that I attempted to read the book (I didn't even go near its sequel).

This would not be the end of it, however. In 2004, I visited my friend in Kanchanaburi, Thailand. I was coming from Cambodia, I stayed in her house for a week before traveling to Bangkok to attend the AIDS Conference. She let me stay in her teen-age son's room. I had forgotten to bring a book for my nightly reading and on my second night I saw that the boy had a complete set of Harry Potter books, both in English and in Thai. I took the newest book in the series (Book 5, I believe) and started reading it before I slept. I read this each night, but didn't manage to finish it because we had to go to Bangkok. I had less than 100 pages to go. I have to admit that I was entertained, but was it enough for me to invest in the series?

Hindi rin.

My main misgiving about the Harry Potter books is, while I was entertained reading it, I had a difficult time remembering what I read shortly after I closed the book. In the nights I was reading it, I had to always back-track a few pages to remember where I stopped the previous night. Michael Crichton's books have the same effect on me. Exciting while you're in the story but ultimately, it doesn't resonate after the reading experience is over. The prose is a bit clunky, which for me is inexcusable for a British writer. Much of the magic is at best, a rehash of classic fantasy works, or too-obviously derived from contemporary culture. I'll just wait for the film to come out, thank you very much.

It is great that the Harry Potter books have (allegedly) stimulated a generation of young people to read books but they should know that there are a lot of original and better-written books in and beyond the genre. If there is anything we can learn from this phenomenon, it is that there is a whole universe of books out there to be read and enjoyed while enriching the mind in the process.

To many readers, Harry Potter has opened the door to this universe. It's time to enter.