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𝙰 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚐 𝙼𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖

𝚋𝚢 𝙽𝚊𝚘𝚖𝚒 𝙺𝚒𝚎𝚑𝚗𝚎

          Freedom is, according to the dictionary, a noun that means the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint. The exact or even a vague definition, however, doesn’t come to mind when one speaks or reads the word. Instead, we think of the greatest, freest country there is: The United States of America…except for one thing: it’s not quite both of those, objectively speaking.

         On November 9, 2016, the infamous Donald John Trump, a businessman and television personality, was elected into office, winning against politician Hilary Clinton. Since then, despite his slogan of “Make America Great Again”, the country seems to have gone very much the opposite way, where more discriminatory crimes occurred, families ripped from each other, and other atrocious thing. Predictably, the citizens eventually had enough of it.

          A little over three years later, on December 18, 2019, Trump had finally been impeached. This was a major win, obviously, but the notion of a replacement was quickly shut down by the fact that whether he is ousted or not will depend on the 2/3 of the Senate. If these 2/3 say yes (which is highly unlikely as most of those in Senate are Republican, the party of Trump), then he may be removed from office – which is still not as good a scenario as it should be for the sole reason of the Trump’s second-in-command: Vice President Mike Pence. That, my friend, is a whole ‘nother story.

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𝙱𝙸𝙾𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙻𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙴 𝙾𝚂𝙲𝙰𝚁 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚃

𝚋𝚢 𝚂𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚊 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚐

𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙻𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴

        Claude Monet, also known as Claude Oscar Monet (born on November 14, 1840 at Paris, France – died on December 5, 1926, Giverny) was a French painter and creator of French impressionist painting, and the most influential and prominent practitioner of the movement's concept of projecting one's impressions before existence, especially as applied to plein-air landscape painting. The term Impressionism is derived from the title of his painting Impression, Sunrise.

        He was born in the ninth district of the city of Paris on November 14, 1840. He was the second child of both second-generation Parisians Claude-Adolphe and Louise-Justine Aubrée Monet. On May 20, 1841, he was baptized as Oscar-Claude into the local church parish, Notre-Dame-de-Lorette. In 1845, his family moved to Le Havre in Normandy. His father wanted him to go into the family supermarket business, but he wanted to become an artist. His mother (a singer) passed away on January 28, 1857. He was 16 years old when he left school, and went to live with his aunt, Marie-Jeanne Lecadre.

        On the first of April 1851, Monet entered the Le Havre secondary school of the arts. He first became known locally for his charcoal caricatures, which he would sell for ten to twenty francs. Monet also received his first drawing lessons from Jacques-François Ochard, a former student of Jacques-Louis David. On the beaches of Normandy in about 1856/1857 he met fellow artist Eugène Boudin who became his mentor and taught him to use oil paints. Boudin was teaching Monet "en plein air" (outdoor) drawing techniques.

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙸𝚂

        In June 1861, Monet joined the First Regiment of African Light Cavalry in Algeria for two years of a seven-year commitment, but upon his contracting typhoid his aunt Marie-Jeanne Lecadre intervened to get him out of the army if he agreed to complete an art course at a university. In 1862, Monet became Charles Gleyre's pupil, where he met Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Frédéric Bazille, and Alfred Sisley. About what came to be known as Impressionism, they introduced new methods to art, drawing the effects of light en plein air with fractured color and quick brushstrokes.

        Monet's Camille or The Woman in the Green Dress (La Femme à la Robe Verte), painted in 1866, brought him recognition, and was one of many works featuring his future wife, Camille Doncieux. Soon afterwards, his wife got pregnant and gave birth to their first child, Jean. In 1868, Monet also tried to commit suicide by tossing himself into the Seine for monetary reasons.

𝙶𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙽𝚈

         At the beginning of May 1883, Monet and his large family rented a house and two acres from a local landowner. The house was close enough to the local schools for the children to attend and the surrounding landscape offered an endless array of suitable motifs for Monet's work.  Beginning in the 1880s and 1890s, through the end of his life in 1926, Monet worked on "series" paintings, in which a subject was depicted in varying light and weather conditions. His first series exhibited as such was of Haystacks, painted from different points of view and at different times of the day.

         He painted an important series of paintings in Venice, Italy, and in London he painted two important series — views of Parliament and views of Charing Cross Bridge. His second wife Alice died in 1911 and his oldest son Jean, who had married Alice's daughter Blanche, Monet's favorite, died in 1914. It was during this time that Monet began to develop the first signs of cataracts, a medical condition in which the lens of the eye becomes progressively opaque, resulting in blurred vision.

         During World War I, in which his younger son Michel served, and his friend and admirer Clemenceau led the French nation, Monet painted a series of Weeping Willow trees as homage to the French fallen soldiers. After his operations on his cataracts, he even repainted some of these paintings, with bluer water lilies than before the operation.

𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷

         On December 5, 1926, at the age of 86. He died of lung cancer and was buried in the Giverny church cemetery. Monet insisted that the ceremony should be simple, it was attended by 50 people. His famous home and garden with its waterlily pond were bequeathed by his heirs to the French Academy of Fine Arts (part of the Institut de France) in 1966. The home is one of the two main attractions of Giverny, which hosts tourists from all over the world.

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𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚔

𝙰 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙴𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔

         Today’s the day, I get to see my Dad's face again, an event that occurs once or twice every year. Days like these would be more anticipated than any birthday, fiesta, or even an event like Christmas would be overshadowed. This was a special day where I got to see my dad, but little did I know, this was also going to be the day that would mark the beginning of an adventure. I was in the waiting area at the airport, and with how summers are in the Philippines, it was raining—of course. Mom and I were patiently waiting, saw a Philippine Airlines plane land in the runway and I wondered if it was him, He previously sent a photo of his ticket, had Philippine Airlines on his ticket, it must be him. The gates were opened and the exit was quickly flooded with people, the classic joke of “oh your father’s here” came to mind when I saw a few white men come out, realized I couldn’t make the joke and quickly dismissed it. We waited for a few minutes and voila, I see my dad! Jet-lagged out of his mind from the connecting flights he took from Madagascar to Hong Kong, to Manila, and then finally to Davao.

Welcome, home dad. We’re happy to see you.

         We drove home, unpacked his bags, and readied for dinner. I poured him a glass of wine, and we talked about what was it like working in Madagascar. He talked about how the poor the country was, cars were scarce, roads were horrible, people were difficult, and how he couldn’t go much for a walk, even though Madagascar did have a few mountains and hills to walk up to, He was located in a relatively flat area, and so good walks were scarce. Dad’s a guy who would appreciate a challenging hike/walk for good exercise but also a sense of accomplishment. Could go for a walk-up Eden, a place near us which has an elevation of 811 meters, a pretty decent climb. Talked to him about it and planned to walk up there once he’s recovered from the jet lag, but another Idea came to mind—what if we hike up to the top of Mt. Apo He said that it would be difficult for him, to put it into perspective, Mt. Apo is the Philippines highest peak, at 2,954 meters in elevation. “Why not,” we ask ourselves—and so we concluded to hang on to the idea of climbing up Mt. Apo. We walk up Eden at least four times a week for a week to prepare our bodies for the trek we were about to partake. Found a guide to help us reach the top of Mt. Apo, His name was Nelson, he runs a tour business where he would tour people around the Philippines, leading them to some memorable adventures, “Adventours” as he called it, he calls his clients “Adventourists”, Nelson has peaked this mountain twenty times already, and he’s not planning on stopping anytime soon. The day soon approaches, and my mom is having second thoughts about the trip, my dad's 65 years old, and she thinks it’s too much for him. Dad’s quick to relieve mom of worries by telling her that we’ve prepared properly for this trip but also, we could get some porters if ever we find carrying our equipment to be difficult.

         The day has come, we left at the brisk of dawn with excitement—and with fear tucked deep in us. We have coffee and went on our jolly way up. On the first hour, it was already very challenging, steep and muddy climbs seem like it poured the previous day, our boots are being sucked into the ground, we exert more energy and effort just to climb a few meters every minute. My pack’s 18 kilograms and my dad’s a 5-kilogram pack, porters are on the ready just in case we find difficulty in carrying our load. Our guide, Nelson went through like it was nothing. Bit of a novice I am—used up my energy by running. Dad in the other hand—found some difficulty balancing, his’s body is not what it used to be. Nelson had to source a stick from a small tree nearby, had it cut and fit for Dad and we continued on., I find it amazing that even of a man of his age, Dad is still able to hike up with not much help. He’s catching up with us relatively well, He hasn’t done a trek quite like this for quite some time. We hit an area that somewhat resembles a forest, we’ve seemed to lost track of time, and oh dear it was already 3 pm! We need to get to the campsite quickly before dark. We’re making haste now, playing battle music and focusing on the track to the campsite. Mist is creeping in, I must say, the atmosphere is beginning to get creepy, and rains starting to pour, lucky us. We continue on our path, we’re following ribbons that were tied to plants—to serve as landmarks for us to follow since is frequently pours here, tracks erode quickly, especially with all the leaves falling all over the place, covering all the tracks. Kept on following these ribbons until we hit a wall, well... not a wall per se—just a steep climb up. The second Dad saw the ribbon was up there, he knew that it wasn’t good news. We’re all covered in mud, so what harm can this climb do, just must grab on a few branches, get a few slips on here and there, and get up and to the campsite. This is easier than expected, just underestimated how slippery it was, just must get a rope to help dad get up here. Success, just a hundred meters from this place is the campsite, minutes and well get there, no problem.

          Made it to the campsite, our muscles aren’t sore, but If I just move a little more I just might trigger a cramp on my leg, at least Dad and I can rest, cook some soup, sleep through the night—and we did. Waking up with the knowledge that was just halfway there is just a hard to comprehend the idea. Dad’s up for the challenge filled us up with coffee and started trekking once again. Left most of the equipment at the tent, bags are lighter, what a relief. We hit the first the stage of the major hike, the transition between rock and soil, Dad’s a bit anxious about the rocks, seems a bit dangerous, one slip could get him into a tumble downhill. Best to go-slow and steady in places like these. Hours in trekking up, I think Dad"s gained back some confidence in his sense of balance, he’s even outpacing me. Better get my game up, or I’ll be made fun of. Up ahead are some scarily massive boulders, with small pockets of steam seeping through all around, not sure what we got ourselves into, but we’re up for a challenge. This is must be the most grueling two hours I’ve ever spent climbing, so many gaps, so many ledges, so many tall boulders. This can’t get any more difficult than this. This is a workout, and I can only imagine what the old man is thinking of right now. We’ve cleared the boulder stage, get some time to breathe. We’ve decided to rest in one of the abandoned campsites, the wind was howling, almost whispering to us to reach the peak. It just keeps on getting steeper and steeper, I could’ve sworn we were close! I thought we reached the top but nevermind, it’s the famous dead lake of Mt. Apo, A lake which inhabits no life whatsoever, peaceful and quiet. We decided to push on after a small dip in the lake. The Peak is near, and the wind is howling like never. We reached the top where the wind blows the strongest. We’ve made it—to the third highest peak. Looking at dad, I see a man who’s pushed the limit, He could go further but has no will to do so. He said “I’ll be here, I’ve done what I can do, you can go further and reach the peak”, he seems content on waiting, seems like he’s done what he could do, I obliged to the hike to the highest point. Walking without a dad was unusual, at the very moment we began, I felt I lost or something, but also gained something. A bizarre feeling that I’ve felt before, just more amplified. As Nelson, bought me to the peak, it was weird being there without a dad. I’ve made it, I feel accomplished, but there’s also a sense of emptiness. All that work, all the effort, going through all that just to be repaid with a sense of peace, a view, and fresh air. Time to go back down and meet with dad and go back home. I think there’s rendang mom prepared, can’t wait.

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𝙰 𝙷𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟼 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚘 𝙶𝚞𝚕𝚏 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚒

𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝙷𝚊𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜 (𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝙹𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖)

          At 12:11 AM on August 17, 1976, a magnitude 8 earthquake occurred in the island of Mindanao creating a tsunami that devastated more than 700 kms of coastline bordering Moro Gulf in the North Celebes Sea. This offshore event was generated by the Cotabato Trench, a less prominent trench system in the Philippines. This was the largest tsunamigenic earthquake to have occurred in Mindanao in the last two decades

          The 1976 Moro Gulf Earthquake and tsunami killed an estimated 8000 people while leaving 10,000 injured, and an estimated 90,000 people homeless.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚘

          On the night of August 17, 1976 at exactly 12:11 AM, an earthquake hit the island of Mindanao.  It offered almost no warning, for massive destruction was soon to follow.

          Approximately 15-30 seconds after the foreshock, the large earthquake hit. With the epicentre near the coastline bordering the Moro Gulf, the entire island was rocked. Schools suffered little to moderate damage, and some buildings like the D’Max Restaurant completely collapsed.

          The initial earthquake was widespread and was felt as far as the central Philippine islands of the Visayas. Without warning, about 3-5 minutes after the earthquake struck, waves as high as 9 meters reached the coastline bordering the Moro Gulf in the North Celebes Sea, resulting in destruction and death in the coastal communities of the Sulu Archipelago, southern Mindanao particularly Sultan Kudarat and Sarangani, and in the Zamboanga Peninsula including Zamboanga City and Pagadian City.

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟼 𝙼𝚘𝚛𝚘 𝙶𝚞𝚕𝚏 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚔𝚎

          The quake and the tsunami left an estimated 8,000 people as killed or missing, 10,000 injured, and 90,000 homeless. After the initial earthquake the people were unaware of the need to move to higher ground; when the tsunami hit it sucked most of the victims out to sea. The 1976 Moro Gulf Earthquake was considered as one of the most devastating disasters in the history of the Philippine Islands.

References:

https://www.phivolcs.dost.gov.ph/index.php/earthquake/destructive-earthquake-of-the-philippines/2-uncategorised/208-1976-august-17-ms7-9-moro-gulf-earthquake

https://www.rappler.com/move-ph/issues/disasters/102827-1976-moro-gulf-earthquake-tsunami

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intenta no ahogarte.

INSTAGRAM  -  https://www.instagram.com/noeliaandres

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𝙼𝚢 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚝𝚎

𝚋𝚢 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚎𝚕 𝙽𝚎𝚠 (𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕 𝚆𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐)

        One of the most memorable places that I’ve been to was Bacolod. I went there on November 1, 2019. I was so excited that time because it was my first time to travel alone. As soon as I got there, I immediately ate chicken inasal, from what I’ve heard it is one of their specialties. Surprisingly, people there do not suffer from traffic, but the environment was not quite nice. I stayed there for almost one week.

         After that, I went to Dumaguete. Dumaguete City is very relaxing compared to Bacolod city because of it’s clean fresh air and other stuff. I stayed in a hotel that looks like santorini. The hotel also has mini watchtower. I felt like I was in another country! The sea wall in Dumaguete was so amusing to look at.

         Suffice to say that if you want to relax or take a break from stress or your personal problems, it's always a good choice to travel and take a vacation. At least for a while, you can have your mind at peace and enjoy the moment without thinking of the problems you should face.

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𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚔: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚍𝚘𝚋𝚘!

𝚋𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚗 𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚐 

          Chicken Adobo is a type of Filipino chicken stew. Chicken pieces are marinated in soy sauce and spices, pan-fried, and stewed until tender. The dish gained popularity because of its delicious taste and ease in preparation.

          The famous Chicken Adobo originated in the Philippines. The dish is prepared using the Inadobo style of cooking. It means cooking meat or seafood with vinegar and mostly soy sauce. Chicken slices cooked in soy sauce and vinegar with garlic. This is a delicious Filipino chicken dish that you can eat for lunch with warm white rice.

Ingredients

         2 lbs chicken (cut into serving pieces)

         3 pieces dried bay leaves

         8 tablespoons soy sauce

         4 tablespoons white vinegar

         5 cloves garlic (crushed)

         1 1/2 cups water

         3 tablespoons cooking oil

         1 teaspoon sugar

         1/4 teaspoon salt (optional)

         1 teaspoon whole peppercorn

  Instructions

1. Combine chicken, soy sauce, and garlic in a large bowl. Mix well. Marinate the chicken for at least 1 hour. Note: the longer the time, the better

2. Heat a cooking pot. Pour cooking oil.

3. When the oil is hot enough, pan-fry the marinated chicken for 2 minutes per side.

4. Pour-in the remaining marinade, including garlic. Add water. Bring to a boil

5. Add dried bay leaves and whole peppercorn. Simmer for 30 minutes or until the chicken gets tender

6. Add vinegar. Stir and cook for 10 minutes.

7. Put-in the sugar, and salt. Stir and turn the heat off.Serve hot. Share and Enjoy!

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𝙸 𝙻𝙴𝚃 𝙳𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙾𝙻 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝚈 𝙻𝙸𝙵𝙴

𝙰 𝙼𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚒𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝙶𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕 𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚗

         On the 29th day of October, in the year 2016, I had my first drink. I assume it was around 9:00 in the evening. I remembered I was in my room and my uncles called me and let me sip a glass of beer, right in front of my mom. They let me finish the whole glass of beer and at that moment, I didn’t like the taste of it. I didn’t even expect it to be horrible. At that very moment, my uncles decided to let me invite my friends and have some drinks in our own house. In fact, they were the ones who bought us drinks.

         As far as I remember, it wasn’t just a beer, it was a brand of cut brandy. I think it might have been around 10:30 pm when they showed up in our house. I won’t deny that I was very nervous at that time since it was my first time to drink. So, we started the drinking session and we had so much fun at that time. We were cracking jokes to each other and laughed like it was still day time. I would not describe myself as intoxicated. I would have said I’d had a couple of drinks. But I felt drunk at that time. It was around 1:00 am when all of us got hit by the alcohol we were drinking. Some of my friends were really drunk to the point that they laid on the ground because they were out of control while some of them were speaking different languages ‘cause of the liquor we were drinking.

         At that moment, my mom anticipated that I become different when I get drunk because of what I showed during that night. According to her, I become “kiat” and “saba” especially when the drinks really hit me hard. After that night, I never had another chance to drink with my friends because my mom would never allow me again to drink especially when she is not around. Which, I totally understood, since I was too young at that time and wasn’t really at the right age to drink.

         Until, I graduated junior high school. Year 2018, when I started to drink secretly. I did not tell my parents about it because I knew they’d get mad at me. It started when most of my friends were inviting me to different parties and drinking sessions. It came to the point when I had to sneak out just to drink with my friends. There was one time when I asked my parents to let me go to my “friend’s birthday party” and luckily, they let me. Until they caught me lying because I arrived home at 5:00 in the morning. After that, my parents grounded me for almost one week. They never let me get out without them or without someone who could watch over me.

         Year 2019, I started to hang out with my friends again after a long time of not seeing them. When I turned 18 and entered grade 12, my drinking habits got worse, especially when I get to drink almost twice a week. Sometimes, I would sneak out just to see my friends. Though my parents already knew about it, they aren’t tolerating me for doing this even in special occasions because I might get used to it. But little did they know that I’ve been secretly doing this for almost two years now.

         As I try to explain my problem with drinking, it goes along the lines of: I was a regular drinker in my mind, but I wasn’t after I had a drink. The more I was drunk, the more I was willing to drink. Alcohol increased my thirst. It always increases as I grow older and I wasn’t expecting that I would reach this stage from the first time I tasted liquor. I will not deny that being sober also feels great. But the question is, why do I always go back to drinking? Being sober, I realized a lot of things. I understood something about why my drinking habit was a problem. The only way I could get things back to normal is to drink more and more until I would come to realize all the things I’ve done at an early age, most especially my drinking habits.

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𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙵𝚘𝚛?

𝚋𝚢 𝙿𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚁𝚘𝚡𝚊𝚜 

Expression can only go so far.

You are unsure of the reply

the reaction

the thoughts that run in their heads.

I’ve learned this in difficult ways

in forms of people leaving me with doubt

and questions I’ll never answer

So I stick to writing.

You sum up every stray thought in your head into

tiny pieces creating phrases

that gives them sneak peaks of the lives you lead,

the moments in-between,

and the constant nagging in your brain

masked in saturated harmony of words.

Expression can only go so far.

What it everything means to you could mean little to another.