All that remains of Cactus Hall, in Santa Fe Resort, Barangay Granada, Bacolod
Just another weekend in a sleepy, provincial city!
Self spent the morning in Santa Fe Resort. She poked around among the cottages, got a peep inside the “Oscar Villas” (Very nice!) and had some tanguingue with rice with brewed coffee. She certainly wasn’t hungry, but the way self sees it, there are only two ways to go: One, she can continue losing weight as she did (drastically), her first week here. Her driver disappeared (paid off, ha ha ha, by her loving familia: she hopes he is rich now and able to buy his own punong) and that was quite an unpleasant surprise.
Or, two, she could force herself to regain her former appetite and return to a semblance of her usual rotundity. She of course chose the latter route. It is best not to attract notice by shrinking to half one’s size in one week. Especially since she had the misfortune to acquire a seriously disfiguring black eye, only her second night in Bacolod, and gossip was going around here, there and everywhere (Exhibit A: Chef Guido at the Negros Museum Café, overwhelmed with curiosity only 30 seconds after meeting her: “How’d you get the black eye?”)
Anyhoo, self ordered the tanguingue, produced by a very excited chef (Junior, self thinks his name was), and since she ordered it, she of course had to eat it. With rice. And then the coffee. And then she could hardly sit up straight, her jeans were so tight.
Never mind! Self did get to see the ruins of Cactus Hall, which used to be the venue for elegant parties, with all the prettiest belles of Bacolod, including Dearest Mum (The first time she came, everyone seemed to want to call forth memories of her Dear Departed Dad. As her presence has grown more and more familiar, however, now everyone seems to want to call forth memories of her Dearest Mum)
Then self returned to her hotel, just in time to avoid a really thunderous downpour. Then she went to the Salon one floor up, to be healed by yet another “blow-dry” (Her hair is now moussed and hairsprayed to the max. If her hair were longer, her “do” might begin to resemble Imelda’s beehive). Then she tried to call Philippine Airlines. Then she called her home in California, and The Man picked up. Upon learning when self would be returning home (When self left, she kept the date “open”), he said: “No one will come trick or treating because there are no Halloween decorations up. You are going to have to eat every single last piece of candy you bought.” Since self bought 4 lbs. of Snickers and Milky Way bars, that is quite a daunting prospect, dear blog readers. But self has no compunction about gaining weight in California. For one thing, over there, she has no social life. She could go around 24/7 in a duster and flip-flops, and weigh 250 lbs., and no one would notice. Oh, the wonders of America! All you have to do is breathe the air and, self swears, you gain five pounds!
Then she went to 18th Street Pala-Pala and ordered a dozen fresh oysters, and specified she wanted them grilled with plenty of garlic. She ate everything in something like 10 minutes. They were teensy oysters, not the behemoths she had last March, in Punta Taytay. She made the waiter swear she would not get an upset stomach by eating so many oysters in one go. He kept nodding and smiling encouragingly.
Now she is going to try and catch a ride to the airport so that she can change her damn ticket and head back home in time to vote for Obama. (On second thought: she took one look at the driver and she just could not imagine herself making small talk all the way to the Bacolod Airport and back. No offense, dear driver, but self has been chattering like a magpie with sundry curious people, since early this morning. She decided to pursue the ticket change thing tomorrow. So now she is once again ensconced in her room, wondering what that brown bug with the two twitchy antennae is, the one that’s crawling down the white blinds at this very moment. It doesn’t seem to be a cockroach, which is a relief. On the other hand, self hates the thought of falling asleep and having the unknown bug crawling on top of her and perhaps taking a bite out of her while she is unconscious. She stops blogging to hunt around for a slipper to smack the brown bug with, but by the time she has armed herself, the bug has disappeared. Eeeek! It might even have crawled up to her bed!)
Oh! Self almost forgot: This morning, she shot her first handgun with live rounds. There was a terrific noise, and because she was holding the gun very limply when she fired it, the weapon ricocheted and she cut her thumb. Why does everything have to happen to self?
Well, at least she hasn’t killed herself, yet. Which is something The Man is constantly telling her she will do, one of these days.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.