Traveling on a budget with legs as my gears

Cyclists all over the nation are often enraged about how unsafe it is to be out on the streets via our old reliable, mainly because of the irresponsible and, arguably, stupid drivers that we have to ride alongside with. Online and offline bike lane demands are of constant cry in the cycling community. Of course, we're affected by the state of the road and flow of traffic despite neither classifying as a vehicle nor a pedestrian.

I don't actively support the want for bike lanes (because who are we kidding, we're never gonna get them and even if we do, they're just gonna serve as parking lot for assholes), but I'm not against it. I've just always seen the snarled-knotted roads as a way to toughen me up, y'know. It's not ideal and it's culpable to the majority's lack of discipline, but it's challenging somewhat. You're not just riding a bike, you're actually trying to get home alive and unscathed. Drivers who blatantly cut in front of you with reasons illogical to someone who practices caution and courtesy are not the only factor to road unsafetiness. There's the own mechanical problems and/or handling error that can lead to an accident; the more common verbal harassment/catcalls that can easily evoke threat for riders such as I, especially when evidently outnumbered or if the doer looks dangerous, which we are, by the way, advised and expected to "just ignore"; and of course, getting robbed. One of my biggest fears don't really constitute losing my own life, to be honest; anyone who truly knows me would probably not be surprised by that confession. One of my biggest fears is losing my bike--Oyasumi, in particular--which I spend all my money, attention, love, and care on, and my phone, which holds sentimental value and irretrievable files I'm too lazy to transfer to a safe, immobile drive. And on Wednesday, February 8, 2017, three weeks ago, I terribly met the latter.

I had a firsthand experience in being robbed while on the way home from a bike ride and in my attempt to contain the situation, my left arm walloped three stab wounds.

These photos were taken on Friday, February 10, 2017, two days after the incident and the same day we went to PNP Bacoor to file a police report, although one was already filed on the day of the incident itself. The two on the upper area were not as deep unlike the one on the lower area which had a depth of half a finger.

I must admit that I have been on a training hiatus even before the incident, ever since Tagaytay XC Challenge 2. My friend, Mikee, who was with me that Wednesday, was even trying to get me out of the house to bike a few days before, but I was having a, what we liked to call as a "putangina week." Whenever I have a putangina week, I tend to detach from the outside world as to not drag anyone else in the same funk. I wasn't going out at all nor was I bathing on a daily basis, which wasn't out of the norm for me--I stay indoors unless there's something I need to do outside and I take a bath only if I'm gonna go out haha yes, I can go days on end breathing and living in the atmosphere of farts and self-inflicted despair I have enclosed in my bedroom. I have always been comfortable in that life anyway, and lately, the long rides and nature trips just became... unriveting. I have yet to meet people who's just as passionate in riding and in the same, if not on a higher level to my wavelength. I was ditching dragonboat training as well (I haven't talked about it yet but upon starting 2017, I was absorbed in a dragonboat team), not because I didn't want to train but my want to not be outside was just much greater. I was doing body weight exercises at home though, so I can still keep up when I do decide to train religiously again.

I had to get back soon as I was supposed to participate in Giant's bike race in Rizal last February 18, 2017 in addition to the two dragonboat races my team is preparing for for the first and last week of March; the former would've been my debut on the line-up. I have a really bad habit of not being up for training at the last minute, which I constantly have to fight through. So on to the end of my putangina week, seething the reality of what a big baby I am which any middle class person couldn't afford to prolong much further, I invited Mikee to bike on a whim with a plan to breathe a different kind of polluted air (y'know, other than my own gas) and ease into subjecting myself to a couple of hours of physical activity outdoors. The ride fell at nighttime on Tuesday, February 7, 2017 only because I woke up at 5 p.m that day. I prepared a dinnertime breakfast and Mikee arrived at our house about two hours upon invitation. It was just gonna be us two when she realized I have enough bikes for another person, so she invited her friend along who I've met numerous times: Pat. Before leaving, I remember specifically telling Mikee, "hindi ako magdadala ng pera kasi kumain na naman ako e." (I won't bring money; I'd just eaten anyway). That's just a heads up in case I'd need to buy something, Mikee can cover for me as I can pay her back when we get home. I was carrying everything I would need anyway: water, bike tools, and some McDonald's coupons in case we do get hungry. (Although that's not a suitable set-up if I'm gonna ride solo. One time I took Felicia the fixie out in Valenzuela by myself, I didn't have enough money when my interior needed total replacing because of a busted valve and what I had with me were untransactable-to-a-new-interior-McDonald's-coupons... travesty). I've taken Mikee to a night ride before; we went to the Mall of Asia and since she already biked there, without any regard to time, I suggested we bike to Tagaytay this time (I always bike to Tagaytay, whether solo or with a group, so it was a normal thing for me). Mikee is fairly a newbie, she doesn't even own a bike, but she's been trekking mountains as of late so it's suffice to say she's physically-laden.

Off the three of us went, riding my three bikes: Mikee was on Oyasumi, I was on the no-name Japanese bike I recently bought for my mom, and Pat was on one of the two old, steel mountain bikes I had and used to get to school back in college before I had Oyasumi. Because the Japbike had a basket in front, I thought I'd free my back from the stress by putting my bag there. It's a small, black bagpack bought from an online seller which I always use for rides. Inside it was a 2.5L bladder, 26x2.1 interior, toolkit, patchkit, tire pump, wallet/money purse with nothing but McDonald's coupons ang an i.d. card, keys, 13000mAh Huwawei powerbank, and my 5-year-old Samsung Galaxy S4 phone. We didn't even reach Tagaytay, we just made it until Silang. That's understandable, considering neither of them has gone on a long ride before and the way there was a gradual uphill too. I was likewise very proud of them for making it the way they did--with minimal breaks and continuous pedaling. Pat hasn't eaten yet so I thought I'd treat them at McDonald's--to reward their effort and put the coupons to use. I know there's a new branch in Silang, I've been talking about it because it's new and the energy fascinates me, so when it was decided we wouldn't push through Tagaytay, I suggested we eat there. A few more malapit na's and we find out that the McDonald's I've been talking up throughout the ride was closed. Next to a nearby 7-eleven store was a carinderia though, called something like two sisters or two siblings... Anyway, we had bulalo there instead and it was sooo good. We had to wait a few minutes for it though, and while waiting, I talked to Mikee about needing to get out of my bum life. I wasn't training or taking races seriously, I'm not doing anything super productive, and funds are depleting. It might be time to look for a job again and I intended to, that's also why I wanted to get out of the house that time. Again, to breathe a different kind of polluted air because basically, every reason I had as to why I quit my previous work--train everyday, become a full-time bike/dragonboat racer, take automotive classes... live my dreams--went to shit, and it reeks. I'm gonna apply as a guidance counselor, I said. They laughed in my face and after eating, we went home to enjoy the downhill with a full stomach.

It was about 12 m.n. when we finished eating. We didn't have any regard for time and that was my first mistake as a ride leader. My second mistake is that I didn't think about our vulnerability being an all-girl group rider of three. Third mistake is two out of three are newbies who don't even own any bike, thus, leaving the ratio for support at a disadvantage. Pat had insisted on taking the bus home. It seemed stupid to me because the way home is going to be practically all downhill, which is the funnest part, why would you waste money on taking a bus. That was my fourth mistake. No, not not taking the bus--being with someone who's second-guessing herself and not 100% in it to ride. There wasn't gonna be any bus at that time anyway so I was able to convince her to bike all the way. She asked to put her bag in the basket as well to also lessen the stress on her back and overall load. I remember celebrating the downhill in joy coming from Silang; it was my first time to take out the Japbike on a ~long ride~ after all. What did I tell you, huh. Is this not the funnest thing ever? Then, I remember passing by a lit house while letting gravity pull me down, not pedaling at all, when an aged man hollered at us and yelled in the calmest way, "Hi, sweetheart." I retaliated in disgust and yelled back, "Ulol!!!" I felt the fear in Mikee and Pat. I heard what they said without them even saying it, Pabayaan mo na lang. (Just ignore it). Don't be scared, I thought to myself. Maybe that was my fifth mistake, I just wasn't scared. Masyado kang matapang (you're too brave), I've been told, which I never regarded as a bad thing... even after getting stabbed because of it.

Upon exiting Dasmariñas, we were deciding what route to take to get home. Daang Hari was immediately crossed out when I brought it up, which is what I usually take when I come from a Tagaytay ride downhilling Aguinaldo Highway, but because of the horror stories on Daang Hari eliciting fear of unknown entities making their apparition before us, Mikee and Pat offered a different route. I could understand their irrational fear; it was dark there anyway and we only had one headlight so we went to what they were comfortable with. We dodged more than half of Molino Boulevard with what they knew as a shortcut that exits to Jollibee. Excited to go home--me so I could piss, them so they could rest--I wanted to speed away but I resisted it to keep supporting Pat. I push her when it's safe to and tail her when she's falling behind. Passing by establishments that hint we're really almost there, I asked Mikee what time it is. She pressed the button on Oyasumi's speedometer to light it up and it read 2:31 a.m. That was our last time check.

When you're so close to getting home, there's no reason to stop. Thirsty? You can drink at home. Tired? You can chill at home. But Mikee called for a stop when we reached the end of Molino Boulevard (yellow circle; see map below) to get Oyasumi's seatpost adjusted. I told her to just leave it because, again, we're almost home. But she still stopped in an attempt to fix it by herself. I couldn't leave her, so I told Pat who went a little ahead to hold up. I adjusted the seatpost and then the three of us went on our way. Mikee advanced when we passed Jollibee Molino going to Queen's Row while Pat and I took our time.

The blue line on the map is a bridge where the uphill road starts and the red circle is where the uphill road ends. At the rate of Pat's pedaling, Mikee has already gone way past us and I couldn't even see her anymore. I thought I could push Pat on the uphill road so we could catch up to Mikee but Pat has a tendency to doubt its safetiness--because I go too fast for her comfortable maintaining speed making her hit the brakes while I'm pushing, which is even more unsafe--so instead we just went really, really slow. Pat was on my right and I was on her left. Since there were no cars anyway, it was okay to eat up the center of the road. Halfway to the end of the uphill road, I could see from afar a guy semi-downcasted behind a parked vehicle on Pat's side, looking like he's scratching it or something. I remember thinking to myself how weird it was, but that's it. Along the Wet&Dry Market area, I already noticed two guys on a motorcycle who went past Pat and I, but I didn't think anything of it. They were on a motorcycle, we're on a bike--it's only natural that they'll go ahead of us. They were the same two guys. The motorcycle with the other guy who's just waiting like a useless ornament, let's call him ShitFace, was a little bit of five steps away from the parked vehicle where the guy, let's call him FaggotStabberWhoCouldntFightMe, was sighting us. When we were about to pass the parked vehicle, FaggotStabberWhoCouldntFightMe made himself an obstruction in the most unfrightening way by simply walking in front of us. Pat screamed, I didn't know why, but after the longest, out of clue, what the fuck is happening three seconds later, FaggotStabberWhoCouldntFightMe grabbed one of the bags in the Japbike's basket. It was my bag.

If you know me, you'd know how parsimonious I am. I'm a person who wouldn't get rid of things as long they still function (you should see the mouse I'm using). Just even losing my comb could make me go apeshit, because of the thought of having to buy again. That's my sixth mistake, probably not entirely pertaining to the incident, but as a person in general: the things I own, own me. And as soon as what happened registered in my head, motherfucker I'm being robbed, I drop the Japbike to the floor and started chasing FSWCFM on his way to ShitFace onto their escape vehicle. It was a lot of steps and he was slow, so even if I was not on my fastest because of running thoughts just scattered around at that pressing moment, I get to him before he was even stably sat and we fight for my bag for about, I'd say, eight... maybe ten... seconds. In my head, I was going to knock them over and fight them fight them because have you seen me? My arms are like guns, and legs, like a bomb. I realize now that maybe ShitFace was able to keep their balance by stepping his foot on the ground while they were still still and I was struggling with FSWCFM, so what was in my head didn't materialize. I had a powerful grip, though. Pat kept screaming my name in the background, crying for me to just leave it, and then FSWCFM punched me. I lose grip as the two bike locks attached to my bag fall and they make their escape. I couldn't believe it. One punch and I back off, what's up!? Thinking I'm a fairly good runner and they just started accelerating, I can still catch them, I ran. I ran after them from the red circle to the green circle (see map above) but I just couldn't make myself faster... I couldn't catch up. I remember how FSWCFM kept flipping me off with two middle fingers as I kept running. How fucking dare you. You rob me, you punch me, and I'm the one who's 'Fuck you'? Nah, nah, nah, this isn't happening. So I try going faster again, but at the green circle, I stop... completely. Not even gradually, but suddenly. They made a left, still on GSIS Road, probably going to Magdiwang where illegal settlers live, then a blue tricycle came along. That's when I started making loud noises. I asked for the tricycle driver's help, screaming things I never imagined I would utter in real life, "Saklolo, kuya! Tulungan mo 'ko! Parang awa mo na!"  I wanted him to stop for me so I could hop on, but kuya tricycle driver didn't budge one bit. He continued driving in neither a fast nor a slow pace even after I screamed those things at him. He acted all nonchalant, as if he didn't hear the things I just said or see me just standing there. At that point, a huge possibility of catching my assailants has vanished.

I looked back to where Pat was but I couldn't see because it was quite far and too dark. Then, I noticed some wet stuff on my thighs on its way to my shoes... blood. It was coming from my arm. I think I just stared down at it for a long time and when I put my head back up, all of a sudden, I was surrounded by a lot of people I didn't know. A couple of them offered handkerchiefs and face towels to use to put pressure on my wound; I took the yellow handkerchief because it looked the cleanest. I planned to tie it like what Sameen Shaw would've done, but how do you do that with only one arm working??? I knew I shouldn't be moving too much so I couldn't get to Pat; I started shouting at her, "OK ka ba!?" No response, which annoyed me, but I could see her. She met me halfway, I thought to give me my bike locks but, apparently, to show me the weapon used to stab me. It was... well, it looked like this but a little bit bigger:

The weapon that looked kinda like this was submitted to the baranggay outpost by Mikee

I thought I was just punched, apparently, I got stabbed and it didn't even feel like it. So that's why I lost my grip so easily. People kept going to where we were, constantly telling me to keep putting pressure on my wound. Bitch, don't you think I know that!? I just couldn't stop being noisy and unpleasant. The more people I see, the more I think, Hey, let's get that son of a bitch! All of us! but none of them were up to it - the more I got annoyed. Fucking useless. Why are y'all even here then!? I kept telling Pat to contact Mikee because I couldn't be still not knowing where she was. I wanted to cry but couldn't cry, probably because my arm was already crying heaps for me. The 6th St (refer to map above) was our way home, then Mikee finally came out of there. She backtracked and came looking for us, found us disheveled. Then, I cri, called to her in the loudest possible way, "Mikee!" Relieved that she's safe, and admittedly, that Oyasumi is too. I was worried that maybe she suffered worse considering she was alone. Thinking and feeling that I'm okay, I wanted to bike home and then casually get sent to the hospital so things can be more prepared but everyone insisted that it was already an emergency. An ambulance came, stopped by one of the spectators, but said "Pulis ang tawagan n'yo" (Call the police) when people started saying I got stabbed and should be taken to the hospital. I thought someone called them but, apparently, they were just passing by and seemed as if they too were headed home. Mikee got angry by the ambulance's refusal to take me to the hospital. She took the initiative to get me into a tricycle instead. I didn't want to leave her or my bikes alone, so I kept resisting. I wasn't going because I can't leave my bikes, and when one of the goon-looking spectators (sorry!) said, "H'wag kang mag-aalala, kami bahala sa bike mo" (Don't worry, we'll take care of your bike), I most especially did not want to go. Mikee was getting annoyed with me as well, at the same time, worried about my condition, so she calmly and firmly told me, "Wala kang ipag-aalala. Alam ko kung gaano kahalaga sa'yo 'yung bike mo. Ako ang bahala." (You don't have to worry about anything. I know how important your bike is to you. I will take care of it.) I finally shut up and went inside the tricycle. Mikee made Pat go with me to the Southeast Asian Medical Center, just across Jollibee Molino.

I trust that Mikee will keep her word. And she did.

Me and my bloodstained shoes (though it's not that visible on the photo; Pat sitting in the background)

When I got to the emergency room, I was attended to right away. They had to, of course, check my wound so I needed to take the yellow handkerchief off pressure. When I removed it, blood came gushing... yuck yuck yuck! The practitioner immediately assessed the wound to be deep, otherwise, blood wouldn't be going out at that rate like that, and went on saying it might need to be explored or whatever. I wasn't really understanding, I was floored with so much turmoil. After wiping some extra bloodstains on my skin, it was discovered that I had three stab wounds. My arm was dressed, wrapped in tight, garter-like material and needed to be elevated. I forgot one shot that was given me but the other was an anti-tetanus shot.

Thursday, February 16, 2017: A week later after getting the stitches removed

Last year, I was eyeing the first Tagaytay XC Challenge which was supposedly my first XC race, but because I was adjusting to my new work, I wasn't able to make time for it. This year, because I've already resigned, I was able to join but somehow still didn't do some serious training, on top of carrying the extra 10lbs I gained over the holidays. Jollibee pa more! Lechon pa more! Extra rice pa more! 😅😟

I turned miself into a meme

So, how did I do on the race? Meh. Not so well. I kinda gave up before it even started because it was taking sooo long! All the bad reviews from the first Tagaytay XC Challenge seemed to prove true; I was starting to regret my presence there haha as things began to feel illegitimate. Our category, Women Open, was supposed to be the first to go. It was also supposed to start at 7AM but it didn't start until past 8AM. The organizer, Prince, kept holding the start for a ~safer~ road, announcing "Okay, na-hold na ata ['yung mga sasakyan] sa baba." One participant said, "Ata? So hindi pa siya sigurado?" I grinned as I heard it. Same sentiments, bruh. We were finally able to start when a participant said "Hindi talaga mauubos 'yung mga sasakyan na umaakyat kahit i-hold pa sa baba, kasi may McDo diyan." (referring to the McDonald's not one kilometer away from where we were). Prince realized this and decided to let us go, reminding everyone, "Basta mag-ingat na lang! Lalo na mga babae!" We ended up being the last category to go along with the men ages 50 years old and above. Another change of plan, which I didn't think happens, if I was to relay professionalism at giving events. Aren't these things supposed to be fixed, I mused to myself. Though, I wasn't surprised that there was another change since we didn't even start at the designated time. Everything looked and felt like it was done under the last minute. In line with that, here are some things I learned from participating in another cross-country race, particularly, in Tagaytay XC Challenge 2:

The first 6 finishers in our category out of, I think, 10

Be assertive, not rude. I was with the champion of our category, Tat Cobrador, and seeing her race was really something. We were chatting a little during the race and the way she advances was a watchful. She was assertive about going past another rider who's slower than her, but never rude: casually announcing her presence to let the rider know that she will advance. I'm not good at that. When there's a rider in my way, I can't always bring myself to tell them to move. What I do is I wait for them to feel like an obstruction, they move on their own, and then I advance. As a slow trail rider myself, I take the initiative of being out of a faster rider's way, so I just feel like it's unnecessary for me to say anything. Also, I'm thinking I might try to go past them by making them move but then I'll just end up blocking them, y'know?

Be considerate to others. Even as a newbie in racing, I believe that I know a thing or two about race etiquette. I certainly am sure that deliberately blocking the trail path is not something you should do. There was a part in the race where I had to dismount and walk my bike because this kuya was sitting at the trail path along with his bike. He was being accompanied by some other people; they see that there's a rider (me) coming, yet they remain to just be there. They only thought of moving him when I gave them a really demeaning look as I was passing. "Tulungan kita dito paps para hindi ka nakaharang." "Oo, tsaka itabi natin bike mo paps." It seems that the kuya had a cramp. Even so, that doesn't give you the right to be in the way. I don't know, if that were me, I would immediately take myself and my bike out of the way as it would be a great hassle to others and quite embarrassing for me to put them under such. And when I know that I'm going to have to take a break and dismount from my bike, before I do so, I go to the side first as to not obstruct the path in case other riders are just behind me. Me, thinking that this is the universal way, was once again wrong. There were several times at the trails during the race when I had to completely stop because the rider in front of me stopped as well. What is wrong with y'all? Then, they apologize for being in the way. I would understand it if it's something that can't be helped, but what's worse is, they actually stay there, hydrate, and do whatever the fuck they stopped for. Why don't you move to the side, moron!

Listen to your own voice. During the first climb, there was a rider who kept telling Tat and I to relax, "Relax lang, ne. Malayo pa! Mahabang ahon pa 'yan." What's admirable with Tat is that she didn't relax at all. She had her game face on and rode past more than ten male riders. I stopped tailing her after a while to catch my own breath and actually relax. After I finished taking a break, I made a short goal to get to a point in my head past my favorite spot whenever I trackread the route. There was a lot of riders who took a break there, so there's no more space for me even if I gave in to the temptation to stop. I heard one man say, "Wala siyang hinto hinto, oh!" Another replied, "Maabutan din natin 'yan. Lalakarin niya rin 'yan!" I was so insulted. Good thing with my new pair of Shimano M064 is that it's a pain to walk into, so I most certainly didn't do what that man predicted. I don't think they ever did get to me. I remember his face and I didn't see him until the awarding. Ultimately, it would have been better if I deafened my senses to the things that didn't help me with finishing. Even voices that weren't real anymore kept bothering me, ~Dapat pinang-buffet mo na lang 'yung 700php mo!~ Shut up, brain! Just keep pedaling so you can go home.

Surround yourself with people who support you. I was on the verge of hiring a bandit–to ultimately yell at me when I'm slowing down and break the wind on flats. Tat best pronounced it when she said that podium finishes will not happen without a support crew. Just knowing that people believe in you is already a push in itself as opposed to people who expect you to place somewhere without injecting themselves in the process. Maybe some day I can meet and be a part of a group with the same goals and priorities as me. For now, I'm still gonna have to continue this crazy journey alone.

I finished at 5th place

Shot by Niko Lopez

The last time I went to a film festival was when my friend from Fliptop, JV–a film student then, a graduate now–invited me to come to their school's free film showing in April 2015: CineSB 5inco. Although I don't consider myself as deeply immersed in it as other film goers and enthusiasts that I know, I enjoy these things a lot. Attendance on events like this must not go amiss, especially when they are already being offered for free.

There was a time in my life when I aggressively tried to ~art~ (I took Multimedia Arts before Psychology but I didn't finish it) so when I saw Ate Japo's invite to ride to the film festival in Sta. Rita, Pampanga, my desire to be art (or at least, have a chance to be supportive of it) made a flashback. I hit her up right away, inquired about the plan of action and she, as always, was so kind and welcoming with her replies. 😊 We first met when I had the opportunity to ride with her last June: Ride to the South, before her 30-day ride for Baby Johann ended. (Read: Riding a bike to save a baby's life).

Paralaya, meaning to move up and forward [to Mt. Arayat] (hence, the mountain outline in the poster), showcased films from Kapampangan directors and/or films with Kapampangan roots at the Eco Park and we were able to attend its first day, getting there on our bikes. The event was made–in the exact words of Mr. Bor Ocampo - actor in the major film that was shown (Dukit), director of one of the entries in the Metro Manila Film Fest this 2016 (EJK), and organizer of Paralaya–"to propagate film literacy."

December 17, 2016: Felicia the fixie in Sta. Cruz, Bulacan

It's been a while since I took Felicia out, she's been stagnantly lonely at home that her headset even gets stiffer and stiffer from non-usage. I wasn't able to get her serviced beforehand because our meetup at the Mall of Asia in Pasay was at 8AM and the local bike shop that I turn to was not yet open at the time I passed by the area. When Ate Japo arrived at the meetup at 10AM, her bike was missing a bearing because she detached and just re-attached the parts when she went and came from Vietnam. There were four of us who rode out from MOA. Ate Japo and I were on fixies and the other two: Reyjie and Jay-R, were on mtbs. She couldn't steer her drop bar so we tried out Quiapo to look for another bearing. While she's asking around, I thought I might as well get Felicia greased so that I can enjoy our ride better. She turned to the next shop in sight, Mars Kingdom. I didn't want to go far so I asked the mechanic there for grease. I even did the detaching of the headset myself, all I really needed was that yellow, petroleum jelly-like stuff. The mechanic didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I turned away for a second, asking Ate Japo if she had found a replacement yet; she didn't. Next thing I know, the mechanic is already applying some dark, oil-like grease to my headset all while pronouncing, "Hindi naman dapat 'to ginagrasahan, masisira lang 'to." (This is not supposed to be greased, it'll just get broken). I've seen the very adequate mechanic at the local bike shop I get my bikes serviced at (Vice Bike Shop) grease my headset many times. It serves as a lubricant so steering will run smoothly, that's why I'm pretty aware headsets get greased... just not with the stuff the mechanic used. The shop's seeming owner (I say this as I'm not sure if he is indeed the owner, but it seemed like it) kept asking me what's broken with my bike so he could try to help. Nothing's broken!!! I just need to get it greased properly. It's too late to protest anything at that point since the mechanic already applied what he claims will just break my bike but applied it anyway, which is clearly not the service I was trying to get. Since we rode out from MOA two hours later than scheduled, we were running late to the next meetup where two other bikers were waiting. To make sure Ate Japo will get her missing bearing replaced, we were to go to her friend's shop in Quezon City, so without further discussions or most likely reprimanding (coming from me), I just swiftly asked the mechanic how much I owed him. He referred me to the seeming shop owner and then the seeming shop owner referred me to the lady inside the shop, who must be the cashier. Because the group was ready to go, there was urgency in my tone when I approached the lady who was too focused on her phone to notice. Then, when I told her what I was paying for (grease), she asked me for 50php. WHAT!? I exclaimed. The expression she made hinted me that she knew that that price was a mistake, turning on a sweet approach coming from her originally nonchalant reception, "Magkano po ba singil sa inyo sa labas?" (How much was asked from you outside?) "Wala namang sinabi, tinuro lang ako dito. Sa loob daw ako magbayad." ([He] didn't say. I was just directed here to pay). When she was trying to figure out how much I was supposed to pay, which I know should realistically range from 5php to 10php, the seeming shop owner then butted in and shouted, "Trenta!" (30php). 30php for grease? The wrong one, at that!? I can get rice and a viand for 30php in Tungko. I can get my bike tuned up for 30php. Are you serious? Again, because I was practically causing delay, I just paid a hundred-peso bill to the the lady who also finally understood that I was in a bit of a hurry. She panicked when she was trying to give me my seventy-peso change as it was coming short. If memory serves me right, I think she just got some coins in her own bag just to make me leave and go on my way. I believe that [most] people think girls are clueless when it comes to their own bike, which is partly true, so they take advantage of that by charging you more than you should be paying for which is dishonest and a goodwill-destroying way to do business. This is definitely charged to experience. I'll never go to Mars Kingdom again.

"Malapit na tayo, 20km na lang!"
Ate Japo's regular reminder: she'll say we're almost there every time we take a breather, even if it's not exactly true. 😝 Once she said it was going to be just 20km away. After conquering endless flats and notorious traffic, she reminded, "23km na lang!" Huh? 3km were added? 😂

In particular order: my Felicia, Ate Japo's Biancho, Albert's ??? (idk hehe), and Mark's Tutubi

After getting Ate Japo's bearing replaced at her friend's secluded shop in QC, we met up with two fixie riders in Bulacan: Mark and Albert. There was a confusion when we met Mark and Albert because when we saw them, they were with a bunch of other fixie riders so we assumed they were a group. Ate Japo even rejoiced at the promise that many will be joining us on our ride to Pampanga. She asked them if we could just grab a quick bite, knowing they must have been waiting for a while because of the many delays. Their faces were so puzzled to almost no response, but they seemed to have permitted us anyway (well, actually, we kinda decided on our own too: we're gonna have lunch and it's gonna be okay with you!). At a nearby eatery, I spent 75php on a barbeque meal with unlimited gravy and a free drink. And, of course, because one cup of rice just doesn't suffice, especially with the size of their serving, I bought an extra cup for 12php. Reyjie shared with us his and Jay-R's order of halo-halo; I was skeptical to buy one for myself because it was a tad pricey at 75php but I'm glad I was able to taste it... it was sooo good! Thanks, Reyjie! 😄 While we were conversing on our eating table, getting a clear view upon the still perplexed-looking fixie riders waiting at the 7-eleven store just across the eatery, we learned that Mark and Albert thought that those guys were with us. And we thought they were with them. No wonder they were so confused. Eventually, they signaled us that they were gonna bolt and we just bid our same goodbyes as they left.

After eating, we continued on to try to make it in time for the start of the show at 4PM.

A quick stop to, yet again, a 7-eleven store warranted a mandatory purchase: a 25php Slurpee. We met up with a fellow biker who already is from Pampanga, Michael. We were almost there, but then Mark got played by the universe by getting a flat about three times. Ate Japo made me, Reyjie, Jay-R, and Michael go ahead while she, Mark, and Albert stayed behind to patch up the busted tire. My sports camera was acting up so I dismounted it prior getting to the Eco Park, which was a huge mistake. The way there was so scenic matched by the sunset, my heart was filled with so much joy to have had witnessed such beauty. Too bad I was not able to capture it, though. The sun was completely down when the four of us arrived at the venue around 6PM. We thought we were already too late but the event was actually just about to start.

The Eco Park that elicits a[n] [ec]static

Before going a few steps down to set up the tent

The feel of the place was definitely something that aroused my interest. It was open and well-spaced. The weather was perfect as well. There was a threat of rain but it didn't push through, so it was cool and dry.

Tent for stargazing and Felicia on easy display

Not long after we have set up the tent, came Ate Japo, Mark, and Albert. We chilled for a bit and abided by the program. First, everyone stood up for the national anthem. It was then followed by a performance of Atin Cu Pung Sing Sing, a popular Kapampangan song which I actually remember learning about in my Philippine Literature class. Introductions were made until it was time for the film showing.

I and some of the others got some arroz caldo at the stall on the highway of the park for 35php, which was somewhat pricey for its amount of serving. I made a mistake of not having dinner plans and went straight to the venue empty-handed. The arroz caldo was good, though; its warm feel in the tummy matched with the gradual dropping of temperature. To the rescue were some other riders on fat bikes who's from Guagua, Pampanga. They gave us a putok batok supply of chicharon, satisfying my high blood fantasies. 💛

Por Da Lab | Shot by Japo Parcero

In between and after the film showing, the band called Por Da Lab encompassed beautiful sounds of their own compositions at the Eco Park. My favorite track from them was 'Bonifacio'. I also especially like how one of the directors in the audience grooved to their music when they made a cover performance of 'Kapayapaan'.

The event ended earlier than expected despite starting late. Around 11PM, it was decided that we should get some shuteye before riding back home at 1:30AM. I couldn't sleep right away for some reason, so I got to chat with Reyjie, whose tent I occupied as my own (haha!) and Albert, who became one with the locals when he and Mark jammed with the crew on some hard liquor after the set was packed up.

Time to go home
1:30AM came but everyone was asleep, including me. Ate Japo woke me up around 5AM and we rode out around that time instead. The two mtb riders chose to be left behind because they plan to wander around the city more in the morning before heading back home, so only the four of us fixie riders went on our way.

We pedaled in the dark, backtracking the same route we passed to get there. We stopped at a carinderia Ate Japo recommended to have breakfast. I spent 55php on one cup of rice and an order of a squid dish.

Morning faces! Mark, Albert, me, and Ate Japo | Courtesy of Mark Piano

Afterwards, I tried out that Kratos coffee for 27php, thinking it will boost me up once it kicks in. It's hard to keep up with experienced fixie riders, y'know. The coffee just made my heart ache, lol. But I must say, for a non-coffee drinker, it was quite good. Mark and Albert parted ways with us in Bulacan while Ate Japo and I stuck together until we headed to our respective homes. The ride there was fulfilling enough, taking Felicia on her fourth long ride. To ride to see quality, local films and performances in a camping setting was a mix of all my loves fused together–cycling, nature, music, and art: creating a wonderful experience.

Thanks Ate Japo for inviting us! 😊 We had a blast! (See Japo Parcero's post here).

Felicia made some new friends!

See my Ride to Paralaya Film Festival.

December 18, 2016: Before leaving Pampanga | Taken by Japo Parcero

Photos of Bey Puno courtesy of Duanne Vasquez

1100. It's almost lunch time and I was falling behind. I didn't have much training because I was cramming from wrapping up my last days at work. You stop training at the gym/dojo (I used to do karate), you suddenly become like jelly. I can't afford to send myself to the gym anymore, so I eat like a construction worker as an alternative training. 😞 I had to sacrifice some privileges when I decided to quit my job in order to lead a much simpler life, which is what I try to achieve and always remind myself of in this material world. Expensive weight training, luxury food, constant bike upgrades, and getting waxed all has to go.

Photos by Erlan Roxas, courtesy of Dex Badion

1730. After the rain had passed during lunch, we went on our way to go to Malasya where Kuya Amang and his family are residing. Time flew so fast, yet the kilometers I was conquering seemed miniscule. It was almost sundown and I was, again, falling behind. I was alone at the trail convincing myself, Sweeper ako (I'm [the] sweeper). I was still not able to catch up to anyone. I remember just talking to myself at the trails, stressing how I was so alone (happy birthday!), calling my mom's name (errrr... okay, well, calling my mom. Technically, my mom's name is not "Mama"), thinking, This is what I get for letting myself turn weak. So I gathered all my willpower not to be afraid. I finally caught up to two other guys, Erlan and Rhon. At least when it turned dark, I wasn't alone anymore. I wasn't scared anymore because the two of them were already scared as it was. If I joined in, we might not have made it to Malasya and just sat in fright idly.