but not yet. Not with the mosquitoes that hungrily follow you around at night and the dust that permeate the whole town.

I could not find the tamaraws and the mangyans. And my discontent grows each day fueled by the dour-looking wait staff who have never known happiness in their life, the unmade beds, the dusty linens and the trash and even the food tastes bland. I look out at the sea and the contrast between the sparkling aquamarine waters and the drabness of the resort is only highlighted.

The people all look the same to me. I could just be tired and weary and missing the comforts of home.

I have recently discovered Ukkokei and their Shoyu Ramen. And am hooked. I spent my waking hours thinking about the soup. It’s that bad. Maybe it’s the MSG they added in the broth.

Anyway, if you happen to pass by old Pasay Road (currently Arnaiz Avenue), drop by Ukkokei and try their Ramen. I prefer the salt-based broth over the soy.

I love my job. On most days, I swear I do.

The people I share firewall and internet bandwidth with are the hazards of my occupation. On some days, they threaten to burst my arteries with the funniest jokes that weren’t meant to be jokes. On most days, they tug at my hair roots.

Una is in this stage of questioning — what is cooled and the difference from cold. Cleanse and cleans. Why does Giada say spaghetti as if she were a Bisaya? Is cooled the Visayan of cold? And papa does not know how to say cleans properly?

She wrote in her diary today, I went to Green belt. I walked walked walked. My foot is outchy. And on the next page, I am una and my mama is bad. She showed this entry to me and she laughed and explained that it is just a joke.

Internet, soon you will learn that she maintains a blog.