#Manila North Cemetery

[kny-tai]

Santa Cruz, Manila

Part 01 : The Cemeteries

Amidst the vibrant chaos of urban life in Manila, one can discover a solemn sanctuary that whispers tales of the past - the old cemeteries of Santa Cruz. As a district veiled in both melancholy and forgotten grace. Its old cemeteries, like missing chapters of a novel, exude a sense of neglect and abandonment.

In this corner of Santa Cruz, the once-pristine graves, now weathered and crumbling, bear witness to lives left untended and memories lost to time's relentless passage. Here, amidst the faded epitaphs and mossy stones, the echoes of forgotten souls whisper, the weight of unspoken stories hangs heavy in the air, yearning for the solace of remembrance.

Image above: Manila North Cemetery

Image below: Manila Chinese Cemetery

The old cemeteries of Santa Cruz are veritable archives of the human experience, where the past's timeless beauty reveals itself amidst gravestones and mausoleums. Here, Manila's history finds a poignant resting place, etched in the city's collective memory of life and death.

“For the forgotten dead, both heroes and nobles, Lacrimosa Santa Cruz, by their tombs she trembles.”

Part 02 : From “Congratulations” to “Condolence”

Santa Cruz, like a faithful companion throughout the journey from birth to death, whispers its sentiments through the language of flowers - a silent communication that speaks volumes.

In the northern expanse of this district, a somber path unfolds, lined with hospitals and medical establishments that gradually give way to the solemnity of cemeteries.

This slender district, resembling an aisle, gracefully escorts you along its hallow avenue, accompanying you until the very end, akin to a devoted guide on this transformative passage of life.

Part 03 : Fuente de Vida

At the southern part of Santa Cruz, where the bustling streets converge in a symphony of chaos and vitality, stands the Carriedo Fountain in Plaza Santa Cruz. Here, amidst the cacophony of hurried footsteps and blaring horns, a testament to vigor and life emerges, defying the somber ambiance that envelops the district's northern realms of cemeteries and hospitals.

The fountain becomes an audacious centerpiece, its cascading waters dance with fervor, a metaphorical rebellion against the relentless flow of time. Its grandeur is a stark contrast to the humble dwellings and makeshift stalls that populate the vibrant streets nearby, mirroring the chaotic rhythm of the surrounding urban theater.

Amidst the unapologetic raucous and vivacious surroundings, the Carriedo Fountain stands tall, a testament to the indomitable human spirit that thrives even in the most tumultuous of circumstances.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 11: Mad World

Good evening!

Today we have some of Mad World which I don't seem to have posted much of? Despite writing a decent amount of? Very strange.

This fic is based around Alice being Charlie's estranged niece, and being sent to live with Bella and Charlie to finish high school after an incident at her boarding school.

Of course, Alice's paternal extended family happens to be Romani, and of course, she gets mixed up in some very mysterious happenings that keep leading back to the Cullens and the Res.

It's a very rough draft, and I think will involve Alice thinking there's a murder mystery but instead, vampires and werewolves.

I hope you enjoy it!

You can find the first part of Mad World right here.

mad world. 

Mami is singing to me and brushing my hair out. I’m drawing, my red crayon skating over the paper. We’re ready to go - the flowers are in the kitchen sink, and I’m dressed - no more black, Mami said. Instead, my dress is dark blue with flowers all over it; Mami made it herself. She’ll put red and white ribbons in my hair, and we’ll go to the cemetery. 

“What have you drawn for your papa, angel?” Mami leans over my shoulder. 

“Me and Daddy,” I say quietly. For an eight-year-old, the drawing is good. My memory of us is clear, and I have rendered it as accurately as I am able. 

Mami frowns and takes my drawing. “It’s very good, but perhaps something happier?” she says gently. 

“Okay, Mami,” I agree, and start a new drawing of Daddy and I in Mami’s garden, smiling as Mami folds the drawing and slips it into her apron and resumes fixing my hair. 

The cemetery is within walking distance, and we find ourselves there before lunch. It’s quiet, and there are a few people around. We find Daddy easily - under the tree, where we put a bench. We are not his first visitors and Mami scowls at that. She sweeps the offerings away without care - people who never met Daddy, leaving behind little paintings, brushes and pigments, flowers and flameless candles. She arranges our flowers, props up my drawing, and then lights our candles. She holds me tight and kisses my head, and I breathe in her scent of rosewater and thyme. 

Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, my father died, and the sadness has settled into our bones, into the foundations of the house. He's never coming back.

Everyone leaves me in the end.

//

I met my cousin Isabella first thing the next morning. I had woken up in desperate need of a shower, grabbing my last clean outfit and toiletries as I stumbled out of bed - and practically ran into her on the stairs. 

She was taller than I was, with long brown hair and a few faint freckles over her nose. She wore what I was beginning to suspect was the unofficial Forks uniform of jeans, boots, and a not-inexpensive spray jacket. She definitely looked like my mom, though not as much as she did in the photos, but one thing that could be said was that she had the girl-next-door type of soft, easy prettiness.

And she did not look eager to meet me.

“Hi,” I said as brightly as I could, considering my hair was tangled, I was still filthy, and wearing a pair of ancient pajamas printed with duckies that had a rather vile but permanent blood-stain across the leg. “You must be Isabella. I’m Alice.”

“Hey,” she said, and I turned, to follow her into the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t meet you last night, I was really tired,” I said as she moved around the kitchen to get her breakfast - she walked with a slight limp. “It’s a long way from North Carolina.” Especially when Mommy Dearest won’t spring for airfare. 

“Mmm,” Isabella said. “Charlie said you had some paperwork for school that I needed to take in?”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just grab it.” I slipped back through the house and grabbed the manila folder from my desk. I’d filled it out on the journey to Forks, and it was a little smudged and crumpled, but still perfectly legible. 

Holding out the folder to my cousin, I wondered if she’d snoop on the contents - I didn’t really want her knowing all of the stuff in the there. But then, how sneaky did you have to be to page through someone’s school enrolment paperwork?

“Thanks for taking it in for me,” I said, as Isabella slid it into her backpack. 

“No problem. Charlie had to leave early this morning, but he might come home for lunch,” she said, as she sloshed some coffee and milk into a thermos. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” I called, as she high-tailed it out of the kitchen.

So that was my cousin. 

I had other cousins, of course. Aunt Simone had five kids that I had seen during vacations with my grandmother and father in my childhood; I hadn’t really seen them often enough to be close to them. And Stephen had a brother with kids, whom I was supposed to consider my cousins. We had seen them too often for my comfort. 

And Isabella. Isabella who either looked too hard or away from me; who didn’t like me, who was so uncomfortable with my presence, and who wore my mom’s face.  

Seventeen months, twenty-nine days. 

Isabella and I would be the best of friends, it would just take time.

It was going to be fine.

//

Uncle Charlie and Isabella got home together, just after six. I was going a bit stir-crazy - the rain put me off going outside, and I still felt a little uncomfortable outside of my own bedroom. I had cleaned up the kitchen and bathroom, done a load of household laundry to help out, and contemplated making a batch of brownies, but Charlie’s oven and stove were on the older side, and the whirring and rattling when I touched the knobs had put me off baking anything. 

I tried to chat with Isabella and Charlie before dinner, but Charlie seemed eager to watch TV with a beer. Bella was absorbed in cooking dinner - and had been completely unimpressed when I admitted that I wasn’t much of a cook. 

“I was in a dorm, and outside of home-ec classes, there weren’t any opportunities to really cook,” I said hurriedly, but I was slightly annoyed - other than the bread and peanut butter I had been sustaining on, there hadn’t been any food in the house I could have used to prepare dinner. Isabella had brought some groceries home with her.

“The stuff you learned in home-ec should be fine,” she said, putting spaghetti into bowls. “And, um, call me Bella.”

I shrugged. “Okay, Bella. And if you and Charlie aren’t picky, I’m happy to practice,” I said, unconsciously rubbing my arm, and mentally skimming the few basic recipes I’d learned at school. Most of the cooking had been camp-style basics that were just varying combinations of food plus fire. Now, if she wanted me to roll a cigarette or pick a lock, then I could have been useful. 

“We can talk about it later,” Bella said, handing me a bowl, and picking up two others.

Bella seemed completely disinterested in my presence as we sat down to dinner. Uncle Charlie was exhausted, and made a point of loudly praising the chicken and broccoli alfredo Bella had made, but ate it mechanically. Neither of them made conversation, so I gave up, nibbling at the food, and volunteering to clean up. After dinner, Charlie did take the time to show me the chest freezer in the screened porch, disguised by a blanket and stack of old board games. 

It was packed with a fairly obscene amount of fish, and vegetables, with a few TV-dinners packed in the corner, as well as a couple of loaves of bread.

“We don’t eat anything fancy,” Charlie said, as I helped him pack some of the groceries into it. “Bells has some cook books if you want to learn. You don’t have any allergies?”

I shook my head. “Nope,” I said. “I just hate mac and cheese.”

Charlie smiled at me. “Yeah, I never liked the stuff either.”

I followed him back into the living room, where he handed me a set of house keys. 

“Good luck at school tomorrow,” he said, as I stuffed the keys into the pocket of my sweatpants. “Bells will give you a lift.”

“Thanks Uncle Charlie,” I replied. “It will be nice to be back at a normal school.”

Charlie chuckled and wandered off towards the television. I slipped back into my bedroom, pulling my cell phone out and jabbing in the number I knew by heart.

“Hullo?” My mami’s voice filled my ear, weaker than I remembered, but with her odd accent that was a little bit French, a little bit Canadian, and a little bit of the old country. 

“It’s Alice, Mami,” I said, lying down on my bed. 

“Oh, my Alice,” she cooed in my ear, pronouncing it the Italian way. “Sweetheart, are you okay?

“Yes, Mami. I’m in Washington, with my Uncle Charlie,” I said.

My grandmother Miriana was living in a care home in Florida, with my grandfather Thomas, and nearby my Auntie Tate, and my aunt Nicolette. I hated how far apart we were - I missed our little house with the crazy garden, I missed her standing in the kitchen, feeding the birds on the window sill, her strange amulets hanging from door frames and windowsills. 

“Charlie?” Mami said sharply. 

“Mom’s brother,” I said, calmly. “He’s a police officer.”

“Pfft!” I heard Mami spit. “You call me if he doesn’t treat you well, understand?” As if she could do anything to help me - custody had reverted to my mom, and Mami wasn’t strong anymore. But it still felt nice, hearing that declaration of protection. 

“Yes, Mami. But how are you and Grandpa?” I closed my eyes; I could almost smell her homemade hand cream, fell her hands braiding my hair. God, I missed her. 

“Good. Nicolette brought the children to see us,” Mami’s voice tapered off. 

“That’s good, you always wanted to see more of them,” I said encouragingly. 

“Yes,” Mami sounded distracted. “You should call Tate.”

“I will tomorrow,” I said. “After school, so I can tell her all about school. They won’t let her talk on the phone this late.”

“Yes. She will like that very much,” Mami’s sounded dreamy, but on the phone I couldn’t tell if it was the stroke damage, or just Mami being Mami. “Always put love out there, Alice. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, it will come around back to you. Remember that, Alice.”

“I will,” I said.

“Write it down,” Mami said sternly, before falling silent.

“I have to go now, Mami,” I said, after waiting a minute. Her mind was going - Grandpa had dementia, I knew the signs. “I’ll send you a letter, okay?”

“Draw me all the pictures, little one,” Mami said vaguely. “Sleep deeply.”

“You too. I love you,” I said, as Mami hung up. I missed her like crazy, but not like this. I missed my old, half-crazy grandmother, who taught me to read tarot and told me stories from the old country. Now, she felt like a ghost of her old self. 

My little bed was very comfortable, and I curled into a little ball, opening up the old photos I had saved on my phone, of Mami and me when I was little. I wish...

I wished for a lot of things, all of them utterly impossible, and thinking about them just made me sadder.

//

Jasper Hale had, in the period of forty minutes, deeply endeared both himself and the town of Forks to me.

My shoulders were pressed against a low-hanging branch, whilst I perched on the edge of a boulder, my legs hooked over both his hips. One of his hands was sliding up the back of my shirt, and the other one was sliding under my skirt. His mouth grazed my throat, and I giggled, twisting my fingers in his hair. 

“Is this weird?” I asked, as he pulled away, his eyes dark. “We’ve just met.”

Jasper chuckled, and the hand gripping my thigh slid up further. 

“It’s just,” I said, my voice wavering, “I don’t want to you think that I am … the kind of girl that does this… with the first boy who smiles at her…” I was very much regretting not taking Jasper back to the Swan house, though I’m sure my bed there would have collapsed with the weight of both of us on it. 

Jasper pulled back and stared at me. Actually considered me, like a painting on a wall. The hand resting on my back came up, and traced my face. 

“No. No, I would not,” Jasper said softly. “I don’t do this sort of thing either. It’s … out of character, that’s for sure. I didn’t think… I think we both took a chance on each other. A meeting of the minds, I suppose.”

“Amongst other parts,” I said with a grin, and he chuckled. 

“My brothers are always telling me to be more spontaneous,” he murmured, leaning back towards me, and I smiled, pulling him closer towards me.

//

I stumbled home after dark - both Jasper and I had lost track of time, defiling each other. Most tragically, neither of us had anticipated exactly how the day would end, and even a boy that looked like Jasper Hale wasn’t convincing me to do anything without a condom. A problem I planned to rectify the next day at Forks’ only drug store. God, wouldn’t that be a treat for the gossips - ‘Chief Swan’s estranged niece, Annette’s girl, was buying contraceptives a week after she arrived in town!'

The knees of my tights, and the back of my skirt were filthy, as I clattered in the front door to find Bella setting the table, and Charlie watching TV with a beer. Ignoring Bella’s accusatory look with a breezy greeting, I dashed into my bedroom to get changed. I still had a mountain of homework, and I was desperate for a shower. 

//

I managed to wake up before my alarm the next morning, more antsy than sleep-deprived. I wanted to look good today, in case Jasper was having second thoughts. But not like I had put in any effort at all. I had one v-neck sweater, in a fantastic blood red colour that made my boobs look more impressive, and a brand new pair of jeans. I ended up wrestling with my hair longer than was appropriate, and decided against a full face of make-up, and just added eye-liner and lipstick. 

The result was… acceptable. It was a lot less interesting than I normally would have opted for, but I almost looked cute. 

I’d spent far too long, the previous night, contemplating suggestions for the weekend - he had both a car and a driver’s license, so I was thinking the safest option was a movie and dinner. Or we could skip right to dessert, I didn’t mind. 

I had to remember to double-check with Uncle Charlie to see if I had a curfew. 

Bella had already left by the time I sloshed some coffee into a thermos cup; luckily, a bus ran right past the corner, and dropped me off close to school. I really had to get some driver’s ed classes. 

I didn’t see the Cullens - or Bella - until after the bell rang. Spotting them in the hallway, I smiled and straightened up, ready to snag Jasper away from the rest of his weird family. 

“Hey,” I began with a smile on my face, but I already knew. The stoic expressions, the sneer on Rosalie's face, the vaguely disgusted look on Edward’s, and the fact that Jasper was staring dead-ahead, even turning his head away from me.  

The Cullens and Bella pushed past without even acknowledging me. 

For a second, it was like I was outside of reality. That this wasn’t happening to me. 

And then I was back, watching them walk away. 

I would have thought Jasper was better than that. To blow me off, after we… after everything he said to me…

Steeling myself, I turned around and headed to my first class, trying to get my heart to stop thundering in my chest. This wasn’t new. I hadn’t had any friends at my old school either. Friends were something other people had, and I was fine on my own. Boyfriends were useless, too, unless you needed protection.

I had to focus on what I did have, not what I didn’t have or need: I was out of North Carolina, I was out of my mother’s house, and I had a year until graduation.  

Whatever. Rolling my eyes, I kept walking. Friends were something other people had, and I was fine on my own. I was out of North Carolina, I wasn’t living with my mother, and I was nearly done with high school. 

It still hurt.

//

Uncle Charlie came out to the back porch after dinner. Bella had made lasagna, and conversation had been stilted - obviously whatever Bella thought she knew about Jasper Hale and I had earned me the silent treatment. Or as close as she could get without Uncle Charlie realising. 

I’d finished my homework, and come out to sketch, which had gravitated from my sketchbook to doodling a new tattoo on my thigh, over the top of one of my last uncovered scars.  

“How’s it going, kid?” he asked, leaning against the railing.

“It’s going pretty well, Uncle Charlie,” I said, looking up from where I was shading the sun.

“How’s school? Making friends?”

No, but I am fucking douchebags in the woods. “Not so much,” I said honestly, capping my pen. “But I don’t really make friends well.”

“Bells can introduce you around. She knows some good kids,” Charlie said, taking a swig from his beer.

“Nah, I don’t want to cramp her style,” I smiled brightly, imagining what Bella would say if I made such a suggestion. “We already have to live together.”

Charlie didn’t reply, just watched as I sketched the tree of life onto my leg. I liked it better than the sun. 

“You need anything, you just have to say something, okay Alice?” Charlie looked serious. 

I nodded. “Thanks Uncle Charlie. Really. You didn’t have to take me in and I just wanted to let you know that I’m grateful,” I said quietly. 

“Of course. You’re family,” Uncle Charlie studied me. “Your mom didn’t mentioned much about your dad or family…”

I looked back down at my pen-drawn tattoo. “Dad died when I was a kid, after he and mom split up,” I said, adding a few more leaves. “I stayed with my grandmother for awhile, but she had to go into a home. That’s when I moved back with Mom.”

“I never met your dad,” Uncle Charlie sounded genial, but he was a cop. He’d know how to get kids to talk. “He came after your mom left Forks.”

I nodded - that wasn’t a surprise. Mom never really spoke about her life before she left the Swans - she always spoke of her family as if she wasn’t apart of them - and she certainly never would have tolerated a tag-along boyfriend, someone who knew her ‘before’. 

“Dad was great,” I said softly. “He lived with my grandmother, Miriana. They were the best.”

“You miss them a lot, huh,” Charlie said as he finished his beer.

“More than a lot. Dad dying was like my world ended,” I said, staring off into space. “But Mami was there and made things better. Then she had a stroke and Aunt Nico put her in a home. In Florida.” It did make sense - my grandfather was in the same home already, and Aunt Nic lived in Florida with her family. It still broke my heart. 

“So, your dad’s side of the family was just his parents and a sister?” Charlie asked. 

“Hmm? No, he has three sisters. Nicolette, Simone and Tate. But none of them could take me in,” I said. “Nic’s got five kids - one who has major special needs; Simone lives on a weird commune in California that I’m 99% sure is just an elaborate weed farm, and Tate lives in a care facility. Plus Mom has no way of contacting them.” Well, she’d been conspiring with Nico for years, but had never admitted to it. 

“I wasn’t criticizing, Alice. I’m glad to have you. I was just wondering who’d been looking after you all these years,” Charlie really was very kind. 

“I look after myself,” I said staunchly. “And Mami did fine right up until the stroke. She cooked and cleaned and took care of me. And she had Tate in a residential care place nearby for years. We’d visit her once a week and at Christmas. When Mami moved, Nic moved Tate as well.”

It was hard to explain my father’s side of the family. Mami had come from a huge Romani family, and had scandalised everyone when she ran off with a French-Canadian college student in her youth. Grandpa Thomas had always had an amused sort of tolerance for Mami and her beliefs. He had loved his family, loved her traditions even when he couldn’t understand them, and fiercely protected all of us from bigotry, with his words, his fists, and his nice, plain surname.

Dad had met Mom in Biloxi, and that’s where I’d spent my first three years of life. I didn’t really know much more than that; Mom had rarely mentioned Dad, and when she did, it was mostly to insult him. I just know Dad had hated Biloxi and when the marriage was over, he took me with him when he went home.

//

The art teacher’s slide show was never-ending, and I needed it to end. But the last slide was the worst. Dad’s portrait, looking thin and haunted, along with his last painting.

“Nico Brandon committed suicide July 11th that year, at the age of 34,” my art teacher droned on. “It is generally accepted that the suicide was planned in great detail, as the final act itself completed his final painting - according to his agent, one of the few people to see that painting in person.”

Maxine. I had loathed her. 

“How did killing himself finish the painting?” Ashley asked, confused. 

“Brandon shot himself in the head,” Ms Cage said. “The blood and matter transferred to the canvas behind him.”

I was 7. I had escaped Mami’s eye for a minute and slipped out to the studio to see him. He was sitting on a stool in front of the canvas - the Big One, he called it. 

The gun was already in his mouth.

His finger on the trigger. 

“Daddy?” I asked, confused, but his finger was already closing over the trigger, his blue eyes on mine.

Bang.

“… no, the painting has never been displayed,” Ms Cage said patiently. 

“So gross,” someone said.

Bang.

I didn’t scream.

Mami did, when she found me.

Maxine wailed. 

“Alice?” I looked over at Angela beside me. She looked worried. “Are you okay?”

I was crying, I realised, in the middle of class.

The teacher had spotted me, and looked concerned. It would take her another few moments to realise she’d just presented a lecture on my father’s suicide. It was no secret that it had been his daughter that had found him. 

Everyone still thought of me as Annie Swan’s daughter. 

The whole class was staring at me now, and Angela pressed a tissue into my hand. 

I opened my mouth to tell Ms Cage I was going to the nurse, but instead, my traitorous mouth said, “We didn’t know he had the gun.”

Ms Cage looked confused, then horrified, going white and then red. 

“M-Ms Weber, can you take her to the nurse?”

//

The thing with living in such close quarters in the middle of puberty is that affection burned fast and hard. I'd had boyfriends - and a girlfriend - at school, and none of them lingered in my mind fondly.

Hearing Charlie rant about some poor girl’s injuries from her boyfriend made me feel… antsy. Irritable. And kind of amused she’d made such a fuss. 

“If anyone ever lifts a hand to you girls…” Charlie shook his head. I snorted.

“It’s okay Uncle Charlie,” I said, “I wouldn’t even bother mentioning it to him, let alone get the police involved.”

Charlie’s knife scraped against his plate, and he was staring at me. 

“Alice, if a boy so much as looks at you funny, I want you to tell me,” Charlie said slowly. “If anyone tries to hit you, I want you to call 911 immediately. Boys aren’t supposed to hurt you.”

I wanted to laugh. That’s all boys did. Dad swallowed a bullet in front of me; my stepfather had hit me; the school director admitted me to that hellhole; the faceless boys who stalked me at school...

And Jasper Hale had ghosted me.

All boys ever did was hurt me. Uncle Charlie hadn’t yet, but I hadn’t known him very long; he still had a year and a half to prove my hypothesis.

Of course, girls hadn’t exactly been kind to me either. Maybe it wasn’t them, maybe it was just me.

“I just don’t like a lot of fuss,” I managed, but Bella and Charlie exchanged looks. 

//

Jasper didn't look amused as he took a seat beside me in History. The junior class wasn't big enough to avoid someone forever - this moment was inevitable.

"Alice..." Jasper began stiffly, and I shook my head.

"We have four weeks to get this paper done. I vote we do it fast and then pretend it never happened," I said without looking up, my fingers twisting through one of my necklaces - a saint's medallion that my Catholic grandfather had given me. Hopefully, it was the patron saint of avoiding awkward moments. "You don't even have to talk to me in school - we can do it all over email or in class."

Jasper stared at me and for a moment, I felt sad. Disappointed and almost oddly longing. And then it passed and he nodded.

"That's probably best," he said finally and pushed his notebook closer, offering me a pen. "Your email?"

I scrawled my details down, ignoring the way he watched me, his eyes darting when the tattoo on my arm was revealed. He'd seen it before, and the others, when I'd started school.

The bell rang and I nearly threw the pen down in my haste to leave.

If Jasper hadn't wanted to be with me, we could have just been friends. I would have liked a friend.

It didn't matter; the school year was almost over. I probably wouldn't cross paths with Jasper much after this. Mom had already informed me that I was being sent to some summer camp to get me out of Uncle Charlie's hair; and what were the odds that one of the amazing Cullens and I would share senior year classes? They were all outstanding students, and I was just happy to be graduating on time.

//

The next day, when I get my laundry in, I find the red hair again - long, curly strands tangled around the branches of the tree near the clothesline at the back of the property. It was so odd, and I wondered if it wasn't the wolves howling that was keeping me awake, but whatever weirdo was prowling around the Swan backyard late at night.

I needed to mention it to Uncle Charlie or Bella. It just seemed so silly. None of my clothing or underwear was missing, I just kept finding the strands of hair.

Maybe there were campers or something nearby. Or the wind was blowing hair from the salon dumpster around town. It sounded dumb but a lot less ridiculous than the idea that someone was so fixated on the Swans that they were hiding in the trees.

[jellyjamoh]

06/09/24

Halfway through the year, here are the bookish photo that I have took each month.

January

PLACE:

-The photo was taken at the National Library in Kalaw, Manila. T'was a typical sunny day and since I had nothing important to do, I went out to read. Twas my first time visiting the place and its nice (as in neat, orderly, and quiet). It kinda gives you a CCP vibe when you're in the vicinity. It's a perfect spot for a dorky person like me. Aside from outlets they also offer free services like wifi. The library is very accessible and highly recommended. :>

BOOK: Leota's Garden by Francine Rivers

-It is a series and I got curious the moment I saw the book. The summary defined an old garden that used to be beautiful and astonishing and Leota (the main character made some reconstruction). I picked it personally just so I could read something new. It is not my go-to novel and something that I'd choose to read on a normal day. Hence, I still bought it. Not expecting it to be a drama-heavy story. Though the author ended it beautifully. I would give it a 3/5 star rating then.

By the way, I bought the book in Booksale SM North the Block. The cute bookmark was purchased in Fullybooked Greenbelt. :>

February

PLACE:

-Photo taken while I was traveling on my way home. We were passing through SCTEX at that exact moment (if I am not mistaken). It was a fine day to read a book. The weather was partially cloudy and I was seated in a relaxing spot on the bus (luckily) where I got a glimpse of nature's wonders. The clouds looked like meatballs. (cloudy with a chance of meatballs) lol

BOOK: Henry V by William Shakespeare

-I bought this book in the National Bookstore Puerto Princesa City Palawan. I was accompanied by my friend Rj when I decided to buy it. That moment I couldn't wait any longer. I already had in mind to visit my Grandfather in the cemetery because I missed him with my entire being. Normally, it would take 3-4 hours of ride to get there from the City. I just couldn't travel without a handy book to keep me sane.

-I adore Shakespeare and his creations. I wouldn't elaborate any further on why I wanted to read his writings. He is very unique, gifted, and has a brilliant mind. He's a good companion I would say. I'll give this book a 5/5 star rating :>

March

PLACE:

-Brought a token of appreciation to a friend of mine. T'was an advance birthday card and I gave it to him because we only get to catch up once every two years. I hadn't even greeted him for more than 3 years already. I was alone when I took the photo and spent the remaining time of my staycation reading instead of watching a film. Mainly because I was so obsessed with this book.

BOOK: Surgery Platinum by Doc Ron Baticulon (lods) and a lot more

-Good heavens know how much I'm dying to read this. I wished summer of 2023 to own a copy of this edition. Unknowingly there's an available epub on the internet. It just took me some time to discover though. The moment I realized it, I downloaded a copy right away. ofc. :>

What do you like most about the book?

Amongst the 6 books that I've read, this is actually the top tier. To be honest I didn't plan on splurging with novels. I was supposed to be studying starting last year. I still have pending neuro journals on my lappy and they're scheduled to be read during my past time. I just stopped studying med-related stuff because as we all know Tanchi has willfully prevented me from studying my premed course. (which sucks. I know he sucks!)

-On the other hand, I am not yet through reading this. But so far, I can't express how happy I am every time I dive into it. The most interesting part for me was Chapter 3 I guess. The Medical Aspect of Surgery. Learning about different levels of transfusion reactions was cute (mild, moderately severe, and life-threatening). I also find the pre-op use of anti-coagulants interesting. It is so informative and a meticulous surgical technique nothing like I've heard before. Indeed, it is a 5/5 star rating for me. <3 <3 <3

April

PLACE:

-Photo taken in my room. :>

It was so random that I picked this book. I was waiting for the bus to arrive cos I just booked a ticket going to Occidental Mindoro at that moment. T'was my first time traveling to Mimaropa alone. (like alone alone) Such a fun-filled experience and I enjoyed reading a few pages on the ship.

BOOK: Extra Virgin Amongst The Olive Groves of Liguria by Annie Hawes

-I bought this in booksale Paranaque Bus Terminal. A novel like no other. When all you have in mind is a good trip and a total vacation experience, you might also pick something like this randomly. I loved Italian cuisine even when I was younger. Maybe, that's the sole reason why I find it interesting. I'll give this book a 3/5 star rating.

May

PLACE:

Bought matcha tea latte at a doughnut store just to get a decent photo of this book (for bookstagram purposes only). :> I thrifted 3 books this day too. I went out actually to set an appointment at a clinic.

BOOK: His Last Bow Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle

The book was purchased at Bonifacio Global City National Bookstore. I stayed there after my shift and bought it spontaneously. I spent the whole day at McKinley because I was contemplating whether I should or should not continue working in our company. lol I just had the worst shift that night and I almost wanted to give up.

I couldn't make more comments about Arthur Conan Doyle. He is wonderful. I am touched by a certain chapter though and I think it is edifying. Watson is a very caring person and Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock without him I'd say. It's a 5/5 book star rating for me.

June

PLACE: Starbucks Cybergate

This has been my go-to study space. I think next to our office it has become my 2nd comfy spot in Araneta. I always buy matcha and or chai here before I start working. I've already read a lot of books here too. It is quite a memorable place for me. This night however was different. I waited for a friend while reading and we spent time catching up afterwards.

BOOK: Circles of Seven by Bryan Davis

Last year there was a book fair in SMEX Convention where I purchased this current read. :> It was a birthday present for myself. Couldn't rate it yet. I'd have to finish it first.

[marklesterbico]

Visiting our loved ones! ❤️ (at Manila North Cemetery) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpRnfOoLXGQFU_gakuUpDUTwKM39FTzcrJY_E80/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[m9sworld]

LIVING AMONG THE GRAVES: THE SHOCKING LIFE INSIDE MANILA NORTH CEMETERY

[quirksandoddities]

Of Eerie Places and Kindhearted Strangers

It has been a long time since I've volunteered. Not counting my previous job where I had to work with underprivileged youth, I think my 2018 construction stint in Nepal was the most recent. More than 6 years ago if you think about it. Since I moved to a new city and sort of rebooted my life from scratch, (sort of being the operative word here), I've been immersing myself in activities that I've either always wanted to do, or have done before but for some reason, stopped.

I finally found a weekend volunteer activity that fit my schedule! It happens every Saturday at about 8am and takes half a day, and in a cemetery, a place I've always found fascinating but weirded other people out.

Say hello to ATD 4th World's Ang Galing Literacy Program!

Here, we tutor children who live in the Manila North Cemetery and guide them as they read and write. The lessons are mostly in Tagalog as the kids are in elementary. Our tutorial area is a family mausoleum, with coffins and a pet cemetery within the enclosure.

I did not know that there was a community within the cemetery. Families, proper water source, and transportation inside. Like a mini subdivision of sorts. But most live in poverty as they are often families of those hired by the mausoleum / lot owners as caretakers.

It has been an interesting few months, having met new faces in the oddest of places, and getting to help out and develop a camaraderie with the children I've taught. When I got to attend their Graduation and Moving Up Ceremony, I was so proud of the kids! I look forward to next school year when we resume tutorial classes and I get to contribute to my community again.

Sorry for the short post, I just decided to write this down lest I forget again. Haha. `Til the next writing muse visit! :)

[hindiakowriter]

Si Mang Aba at ang Hobbyist sa Picture Perfect (na hindi ko na maalala ang pangalan)

Bago pa magcollege nakahiligan ko na na kumuha ng mga litrato. 2011, nadiscover ko ang Picture Perfect, isa siyang special feature sa Manila Bulletin na inilalabas tuwing martes. Sa Picture Perfect, may pinifeature sila na photographer every week. Kinukwento doon ang buhay ng photographer, paano siya nag umpisang mahilig sa pagkuha ng mga litrato, ano ang field ng photography ang pinapractice niya, at kung ano ang philosophy niya pagdating sa pagkuha ng larawan.

May isa akong hindi makakalimutang hobbyist na nafeature ang Picture Perfect. Ikinuwento niya na nag umpisa ang hilig niya sa photography nong highschool siya pero kailangan niyang itigil dahil nagcollege siya at nong nag umpisa na siyang magtrabaho sa gobyerno, ay bumalik ang hilig niya sa photography.

Hindi ko siya makalimutan yun kasi nong binabasa ko ang kwento niya noong college ako ay naisip ko ang sarili ko. Naisip ko na mas marami pa akong kailangang unahin bago ang photography. Makapagtapos ng pag aaral at makahanap ng maayos na trabaho. Naisip ko na sana katulad ko siya na may maayos na trabaho at nagagawa ang hilig niya. 2012 yun at second year college ako noon. In short, nakalimutan ko ang photography.

2015 grumaduate ako sa college. 2015 din ako nakahanap ng permanent na trabaho sa gobyerno. Isang taon pa ulit ang lumipas bago ako mag-law school kaya nong 2016 nag umpisa ulit akong bumalik sa photography nang dahan dahan. Sa isang solo photo walk sa Manila North Cementery ko nakilala si Mang Aba. Siya ang lalakeng ito sa larawan.

Sixty years na siyang nakatira sa Manila North Cemetery. October 2016 ko pa nakunan ang litratong ito. 2024 ko naman sinusulat ito ngayon dito habang nakaupo sa opisina. 8 years na ang nakalipas nong makuhanan ko ang litratong ito. Hindi ako sigurado ano na ang nangyari kay Mang Aba o kung buhay paba siya. At minsan yun ang madalas na sumasagi sa isip ko sa tuwing napapadaan ako sa Manila North Cemetery. Naalala ko siya. At sa tuwing naalala ko siya, naalala ko ang photography na nakalimutan ko nang balikan after college dahil makalipas lang ng isang taon ay nag law school naman ako. At sa tuwing naiisip ko ang photography, naalala ko yung hobbyist na nafeature sa Picture Perfect nong 2012, naisip ko siya kung nasa gobyerno pa kaya siya. Kasi nasa gobyerno na rin ako. Pero hindi tulad niya, hindi pa rin ako nakakabalik sa photography.

02 May 2024 Quezon Avenue

[thepricefiles]

Legarda Lineage

Doña Clarita Tambunting Legarda’s father was Don Vicente Lucio Flores Legarda, born Dec. 13, 1873.

Image Credit

Don Vicente was a naval architect, marine engineer, and teacher. He was a Glasgow, Scotland-educated architect who trained under Daniel Hudson Burnham who drew up the city planning maps for Manila and Baguio City, Philippines. In 1902, he taught in San Francisco, USA, and went home on Manila in 1909 to become one of Manila's prominent architects. He died Feb 24, 1956, in Manila, Philippines at age 82. He is buried in Manila, Philippines. His parents were Don Miguel Legarda and Doña Genoveva Flores-Legarda. Don Miguel Legarda was born July 2, 1852 in Binondo, Manila, Philippines.

Don Miguel is the son of Don Benito Pablo Legarda y Lerma and Doña Cirila Tuason de Legarda.

Don Miguel had a brother, Don Cosme Benito Legarda y Tuason, born September 26, 1853 in Binondo, Manila, (died August 15, 1915 at 61 years old in Évian-les-Bains, Haute-Savoie, Auvergne-Rhône-Alpes, France, and buried in Manila, Philippines). Don Cosme Benito was married to Teresa de la Paz de Legarda. He earned a law degree from the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, Philippines, in 1874. He was a politician and lawyer and member of President Emilio Aguinaldo's cabinet at Malolos and vice president of the Filipino Congress 1896-1898. He was Resident Commissioner for the US Congress 1907 – 1913, representing State/Territory: Philippine Islands. (Legarda, Benito, 1853-1915, Biographical Directory of the United States Congress).

From wikipedia:

Benito Cosme Legarda y Tuason (September 27, 1853 – August 27, 1915) was a Filipino legislator who was a member of the Philippine Commission of the American colonial Insular Government, the government's legislature, and later a Resident Commissioner from the Philippine Islands to the United States Congress.

Benito Legarda died on August 27, 1915, in Evian-les-Bains, France. He is buried at the Manila North Cemetery.

The Legardas are considered one of Manila’s oldest families:

Manila’s Original 400 Old Family Names

Doña Teresa de la Paz de Legarda (born October 15, 1841 in Marikina, Manila, Philippines, died April 22, 1890 at 48 in Marikina, Manila, Philippines of Pneumonia) once owned the largest private hacienda in the Philippines in the 1800s and is the ancestor of the Tuason-Legarda-Prieto-Valdes Clan of Manila, Philippines. She was first married to Don Jose Severo Tuason, the son of Don Jose Maria Tuason and Doña Maria Jose Patiño y Tuason.

Don Benito Pablo was born on January 12, 1822 in Zubielqui, Navarra, Navarra, Spain, and died January 15, 1873 at age 51 in Binondo, Manila, Philippines.

Don Benito Pablo is the son of Don Juan Domingo Pablo Legarda Alcaine, born August 12, 1798, in Allín, Navarre, Spain, and Doña Juana Lerma.

Sources:

-The Last Hacendera: Doña Teresa de la Paz, 1841-1890 Luciano P. R. Santiago of Pila, Laguna

-Teresa de la Paz: Feminine Wiles and Family Trees, Filipino Geneology Project. Spanish-Filipino (Mestiza) Ancestry

[thecirclereports2023]

Many prominent personalities who passed away are in Manila North Cemetery such as Fernando Poe Jr., Susan Roces, Former Mayor Alfredo Lim and others.

Photos taken on November 2, 2023.

[amoj28]

Who is Aurelio Tolentino?

Why did Pampanga choose to lay to rest the remains of the esteemed Aurelio Tolentino and construct his monument at the crossing of two bustling streets in Guagua, rather than in a church, park, or a cemetery? The monument of Aurelio Tolentino in Guagua, Pampanga After his passing on July 5, 1915, Tolentino was initially laid to rest at the Manila North Cemetery. However, in 1921, his remains…

[roadsandkingdoms]

Happy 🎃💀 ! We're marking the week of Halloween and All Souls Day with dispatches about life in the world's cities of the dead. First up, a global Slate.com dispatch from Manila North Cemetery—home to thousands of the living: 

Living Among the Dead

[life-globe-blog]

A man who lives inside the North Cemetery relaxes on his hammock on top of tombs in Manila, the Philippines Credit: AP Photo/Aaron Favila

[metromanila-michaelschreiner]

Manila North Cemetery Holy Coca-Cola

[dontsaybadwords]

Funny thing i encountered tonight as i browse to see pictures of graves, this picture above appeared on suggestions. I do not know why? Maybe because of its resemblance with the tombs? Hahaha, somehow i felt like ive read a morbid joke.

Anyway, this is a picture of Manila North Cemetery. Where most bodies are rested like this, i saw an article calling it "apartment tombs"

The remains aren't really rested permanently. Some would last for some years?? then the space will be replaced by another new body.

[mrsjaycaycapz]

I think this has been the most creative I’ve been all social distancing! I’ve been mostly in my bed in PJs taking three online classes, get a certificate for public health, finished my internship and trying to keep up communication with friends. Coloring and reading has been my safe haven. My goal is to read 100 books this year. 

I at first was hesitant doing this “books as outfits” challenge, but when my friend send me the challenge and thought of me, I felt very touched and inspired to combine my love for Filipinx literature and what I think is good fashion taste LOL. Most importantly I hope people are inspired to read these powerful stories AND to purchase some of the clothing and accessories I’ve added onto here, each picture has an article of Filipino hand-made accessories or clothing (support local). I never really saw myself as “fashionable” but my friend Mory has always pointed out that she likes my style. Maybe I just don’t think about it a lot since I try not to shop clothing because it’s too much money LOL. 

Lumad coloring book- A project by Salupongan InternationalLumad refer to the indigenous peoples of Mindanao which accounts for 61% of the indigenous peoples in the Philippines. Like the indigenous minorities across the world, they continue to suffer from poverty and landlessness. The impacts of extractive industries and climate change challenge their survival.This project aims to raise awareness about the lumads whose life and ardent struggle are beautifully expressed in the patterns woven on their clothing and jewelry, etched on their knives and wooden carvings, and whose brave defense of their land and life have inspired the images in this coloring book.The proceeds of this project will be wholly dedicated to the education of lumad children who yearn to be able to read and write, save their community schools and strive for the survival of their people.

Everlasting Nora - An uplifting young reader debut about perseverance against all odds, Marie Miranda Cruz's debut Everlasting Nora follows the story of a young girl living in the real-life shantytown inside the Philippines' Manila North Cemetery.After a family tragedy results in the loss of both father and home, 12-year-old Nora lives with her mother in Manila's North Cemetery, which is the largest shantytown of its kind in the Philippines today.When her mother disappears mysteriously one day, Nora is left alone.With help from her best friend Jojo and the support of his kindhearted grandmother, Nora embarks on a journey riddled with danger in order to find her mom. Along the way she also rediscovers the compassion of the human spirit, the resilience of her community, and everlasting hope in the most unexpected places.

Patron Saints of Nothing -A powerful coming-of-age story about grief, guilt, and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin’s murder. Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte’s war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story. Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth — and the part he played in it. As gripping as it is lyrical, Patron Saints of Nothing is a page-turning portrayal of the struggle to reconcile faith, family, and immigrant identity.

Magdalena - Cecilia Manguerra Brainard's second novel, Magdalena, presents the stories of three generations of women in the Philippines against the backdrops of the Philippine American War, World War II, and the Vietnam War, but Cecilia doesn't spoon-feed extensively-drawn out narratives about the horrors of war. She relies instead on offering intimate personal profiles of individual characters. The novel has received favorable reviews from critics and academics, and it has been reprinted by the University of Santo Tomas Publishing House.

Kalinga Dinayaw Necklace

 Vinta Butterfly sleeves top is no longer avaialble but please take a look at Vinta’s clothing, all hand-made/woven in the PH. 

Up-cycled bracelet and necklace 

Pink Earrings Currently out of stock but check out their store anyways