Sail on, Darwin!

This day’s been hell of a lot tiring and forlorn. Until now, it feels like I’ve just woken up from a nightmare and how I really wish it was just that – a nightmare.

Hands clammy, knees quivering, my thumping heart threatening to heave itself out of my fat-lined ribcage, my vellus hair standing on end, my skin covered of goose bumps, electricity ostensibly whizzing up my spine -- I just couldn’t believe what was in front of me yet my own eyes weren’t deceived of what lay before me. Or rather who lies before me. And there he was -- so still, so cold, so… dead.

Just this morning, I’ve packed my bags and climbed up the bus bound for Baguio as I was supposed to process my application papers and receive my transcript of records from school among other things. I’ve not yet gotten off the bus when I received a text message from my best friend Rose that they’re going to visit our batch mate and friend, Darwin, and were asking me if I would come. My heart started to beat like I’ve just been running in the marathon and just one word kept popping out of the text message Rose sent me – ‘visit’. I don’t know why but I really had a sick feeling about that word. My curiosity got the better of me and I pumped up the courage to ask ‘what of Darwin?’ My heart stopped beating when I got a reply from Rose, “Dead.”, was all she said. My mind went blank. The shock that one blasted word brought me was enough to get my faculties failing to respond. If it hadn’t been for my seatmate, I still would have been staring at the phone, sitting still as if I’d turned to stone. He told me that for a moment there, it seemed as if I wasn’t within the realm of reality. I just turned toward him and managed a hint of a smile. I tried to say something but then my mouth rebelled against me. With that, I was silent for the rest of the trip. A day supposed to be full of splendor and excitement turned to gloom and left quite forlorn of hope. Man, that was really a mood killer. I kept convincing myself that Darwin couldn’t be dead. I just saw him alive and well two weeks ago. The rational and more logical part of my adipose-laden brain argued that Rose, a resolute and ingenuous person, wouldn’t be making this thing up. It’s not in her bones to try and make fun of death amongst friends. Thus, I chose to believe the logic in that statement she just sent me.

As soon as I got down the bus on my drop-off point, I dropped my bags at home and headed to Abanao, dazed. My friends were waiting there – Rose and Lester. They were waiting for the cavalry so as to go and see Darwin during his wake. It’s really sad as we were planning to have a batch reunion like last year and celebrate his birthday (we didn’t know it was his birthday last year) or at least go out again as we did the past year (Full Story Here). We were just days too late. Or yet, Darwin was just days too early or perhaps just too in a hurry that he’d stumbled along the way.

It really is so unfair that someone kind and young has to go ahead and be with our Creator as Darwin has. I remember when I heard the news I simply could not believe it. Darwin was too young but as it slowly occurred to me I have realized that Darwin indeed lived his life wonderfully. Darwin was well-loved and he had done so many things on earth and I’m sure he’ll do much more in heaven.

To tell the truth, I barely knew Darwin. As I was looking down at his handsome face in his immaculately white casket, I’ve been trying to put some words together in my mind to tell him. I ended up praying for his soul and his family. There’s that guilty feeling of not really knowing who Darwin really is and I call him my friend. I know a lot of things about Darwin but they were trivial. I only knew what he told us when he introduced himself as a newcomer at Sagada National High School – that his name was Darwin Chalacan and is from Sadanga. I came to know a few things about him then, such as things like he was older than most of us in the classroom, that he knew how to paint, knew how to carve, and he also knew how to play the guitar well. He was such a talented young man. As I go through those times in high school, I remember well that Darwin was the silent type. He never was boldly chastised by any of our teachers and he was well-behaved in the classroom. He was a very good student – an average-learner but so much of a hard-worker. He rallied his way through the economic and personal barriers hindering him from getting educated. He learned well and graduated beside his 53 batch mates. Well-learned and hard-working, that’s what got him in the automotive buy-and-sell business of which he aimed, as all Filipinos do, to uplift the economic status of his parents and family—and that, he did too well. But there was another side to Darwin that I’ve got to know as time passed by. Darwin may be the silent kind of student in the classroom but when you’ve got the chance to bridge a friendly relationship with him, you’ll realize that he’s a comical friend – a humorous, chatty, jovial, and determined person. He has this kind of attitude which could lighten up someone’s mood or cast bright lights upon the room with his jokes (though corny at times :D) and laughter and even with his incessantly smiling face. That handsome smile he managed to show never waned even for a second.

It was just a year before today when the SagadaNHS Batch 2005 had a small get-together and got to catch up on each other’s lives. I remember seeing, aside from the others’ accomplishments, another side of Darwin. That day, I saw a Darwin Chalacan who was very much successful and contented with what he’d achieved. Man, he was an accomplished young man! The automotive business is a very tedious yet rewarding job and Darwin had a lot of clients calling him here and there (he has two cell phones just for that :D). That same day last year, December 19, he actually had to deliver one of those half-a-million-peso cars he just sold to a client before he was able to meet with us. Lester and Wilfredo were witnesses to that since they were with him. We’ve been calling him ‘Big Shot’, ever since and yet he humbly turned the moniker down. He was that humble that he never had to brag about his job and how much he was earning. You’d just have to be surprised from time to time with what he has already accomplished such as the time when we were planning to ride a taxi and he just told us to wait and took off. That time, it was our second night out – December 20. I got confused there for a second and asked myself, ‘Wait for what? Where did he go?’ Lester and Wilfredo knew what he was up to. He brought along his own Pajero for the occasion. He was kind enough to drive us all around the city to where we wanted to go. It was Christmas after all. There were parties here and there. The clock was about to strike 12 Midnight and Darwin was also kind enough to drive each one of us home (from Dagsian to P. Burgos to Km5 and KM6 La Trinidad) after dropping off Kimberly at the Victory Liner terminal at Old Forestry Road, Marcoville since the terminal at Gov. Pack Road was fully packed with passengers. We waited for her to be able to secure a ticket before we took off. I love my friends. They’re so thoughtful and caring. I knew then that this was the Darwin I knew before. The Darwin who worked hard to finance his education in far-off Sagada – away from his beloved hometown Sadanga, away from his beloved parents and siblings, away from a world that he knew too well.

 Despite Darwin’s achievement and job, I never saw him differently. I still saw him as the Darwin Chalacan picking his nose and incessantly brushing mucus off his runny nose. I loved that kind of Darwin until now – simple, humble, kind, hard-working, loving and caring. Despite his accomplishment, he never boasted of it. Rather, he helped his siblings and parents and I just knew. I don’t know how but maybe someday I’d know the answer. I just had that feeling that he never wasted his earnings for silly things. His uncle confirmed that feeling during his wake – that he worked hard to help his family rise up from their current economic status. He gave everything he had and more to make his family all as happy as possible, and now it is finally his turn. His sacrifices did not go unnoticed. His love is forever appreciated and valued more than he may ever know. I can only hope his reward is eternal happiness in Heaven with all those he cared so much for. He wanted to make everyone happy. And now, Heaven will be a happier place with the sound of his laughter.

Darwin’s death was sudden. His death may have left a big red gash in our hearts that no one could ever heal but the love and care he shared with us all will leave a memory no one could ever steal. I will forever be grateful to have had the chance to have known a man named Darwin Chalacan. Darwin will forever be missed but I know in the right time, I will meet Darwin again. We will all meet Darwin again and he’ll make us laugh in tears again.

Darwin, we pray for you and your family. To us, your friends, you will always be with us in mind, heart and spirit. We know that now you are with the Father in His heavenly kingdom because the Darwin Chalacan I know of deserves to be with the Lord. Thank you so much for touching my life and the lives of others. Thank you for sharing us your knowledge, your laughter, your love and care, your expertise in cars, and for being a very good friend. Thank you for all your kindness and sweet words. Thank you for your smiles and your hugs. Thank you for the funny stories and all the wonderful deeds you’ve done. Thank you for always thinking of everyone else long before you ever thought of yourself. Thank you for making our lives far more special than they ever could have been without you.

Sail on, Darwin! You may be gone in this world forever but your memories will forevermore linger... :D

The highs and lows of a self-invited guest

One of the things I never fail to do when I get home for the summer or during semestral breaks and other holidays is visit my high school alma mater, Sagada National High School. In my five years of schooling in the city, I couldn’t even remember one time that I never stopped by my beloved school. I don’t really know why. I guess, it gives me a sense of pride and fulfillment every time I visit.

Yes, I think that’s it. Seeing how the fledgling school struggles to uphold its beliefs and its mission awes me to the point of bringing me way back when I was in its midst, embraced by the borrowed Bayanihan building from the nearby Sagada Central School, its own makeshift building, and the infamous ‘kababan’. Reminiscing gives me that sense of fulfillment that yes, we may be squatters to the eyes of our neighbors, poor and having a chicken roost for a classroom to the eyes of the community, but we students have never felt that we were lacking of anything. To us, it was enough that we had four walls and a roof to shade our weary minds from the striking heat of the sun. It was enough that we had the best teachers to help us learn. It was enough that we had the will to keep studying, with the help of our ever-energetic teachers and our parents to guide us along.

Seeing my alma mater’s struggle for more to enable its commitment to a better and quality education made me shed unashamed tears more often than not upon stepping on its welcoming pedestal. To this day, with the greatest efforts of parents and the local government units and non-government organizations near and far, my alma mater stands proud with its newly-furnished building, below the neighboring elementary school, which was where the ‘kababan’ stood before. The transformation was like that in a fairy tale -– from a pumpkin to a very beautiful and intricately designed coach. I feel really proud -– of our teachers, of our alumni, of our own dreams, and most especially of our parents and of everyone who helped make a difference. Now, the younger generation could enjoy the fruits of their labor. They could be comfortable and secure while they hold on to quality education, thanks to our mind-empowering and skillful teachers.

Thank you –- a never-waning word when I see what I’ve become today. I may have learned a lot of things during my schooling at Sagada National High but I never realized how important my education was then until I went into college, and after I graduated from the university as well. I am so proud to shout to the whole wide world as well as the world wide web that I am a product of Sagada National High School, that I’m from a school where quality education counts, and of which I learned a lot from. Yes, a never waning gratitude indeed. Even the world wide web less this page couldn’t take all my reasons for thanking Sagada NHS.

Thank you could not even measure how I feel for the many times Sagada NHS and faculty and students welcomed me to their very arms. Not only had it cuddled me close, I had the privilege of attending every occasion they celebrate -– from Tuesday programs, to intramurals, to Senior’s days, to foundation days, to graduation days. Yes, that’s exactly what I am -– a self-invited guest.

I’ve had the best experiences here –- the happiest, saddest, most embarrassing moments. Thanks to Sir Cal and the faculty members, the students as well for allowing myself to visit and show my way around the school now and again.

It was an honor for me to be chosen as a guest speaker for the Senior’s day last March. I never realized I could make it since I left my speech in La Trinidad and I just made another presentation the night before the big day (full story here). I also had the privilege of taking pictures during the foundation day, witnessing Tuesday programs, and assisting Sir Cal in filing admission slips and helping organize the school’s site (Hehe. From a self-invited guest to a self-proclaimed administrative aide.). I’ve also shared what I knew about editorial writing to the staff of the Hillside Echoes. I also had the chance to be one of the judges for the cheerleading competition during the recently-concluded Sagada NHS intramural. Tell me, dear readers if that wasn’t fulfilling. Tell me if that wasn’t gratifying. Tell me if that wasn’t rewarding. Because to me, it was all those.

The embarrassment and the occasional snide remarks of some unidentifiable judgmental 'objects' are all worth the experiences and moments I’ve shared with the faculty and students.

I really love to help. But despite my good intentions, there are some people out there who do not approve. Perhaps it’s my fault. Perhaps I make myself available too much. Perhaps I visit my school more often than I have to. Perhaps I’m just too blind to notice that maybe others do not need my help. Perhaps too blind to notice that I am not useful enough. Or perhaps just too insensitive to even care.

Either way, I thank the Lord for blessing me with friends and people who've touched my life. I thank God for guiding me as I aim to develop mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally, socially, and psychologically -– as I aim to find myself, find a meaning to life and strive to become whole. 

More than words

My stay at Sagada NHS was a bit, let's say, fortifying. This is where my adventures really started. This is where I learned how to grow into who I am today.

GOD. This is where I began how to really, really be 'intimate' with God. I've been praying a lot ever since my Dad died. I've come to know Him even more and thus, became more God-fearing and faithful not only to His name but to everyone around me. I came to know the real meaning and value of faith and gratitude. This is where I have come in absolute contact with God and develop my person in spiritual growth.

FRIENDS. Well most of all, this is where I met some of my best friends these days. They make me smile even when smiling isn't supposed to be what I'm doing. They stayed beside me even when I was the monster in their dreams. They made me whole. Don't you think that fortifying? I love them. You know who you are. Mwah.

TEACHERS. We've had teachers come and go but nevertheless they've still been in my heart for having taught us well. I definitely wouldn't forget Sir Sixto Daluyen for our table tennis tournaments (although he usually purposely loses) and our 'skyflakes' moments... that was the funniest moment ever... also for being so approachable even though he is feared by some... for teaching us English grammar although it's really ironic the way he teaches it... I remember those times when he makes mistakes and we attempt to correct him, and he never fails to say, 'that is what i mean'...; Sir Joseph Caligtan for being a cool teacher and he never loses his head for just anything without confrontation, which has also made him a cool teacher in-charge. I admire him so much for his intelligence not only in math and physics but in TLE as well; Mam Irene Bakisan for being patient and approachable... for sharing with us everything we needed to know... for helping us be better campus journalists, for teaching me the value of journalistic endeavors (and I learned it the hard way); Mam Lucinda Baniaga for providing us the use of the library whenever we need books... also for teaching us what it means to really laugh and have fun (although I really wouldn't tell her that since while she taught us to laugh and have fun, we also made her cry because of it), she also has a sing-song voice which most of the time, makes her lectures a bit more interesting... :), for being an easy target for pranks (the nerve of some students) and making us laugh (holding a chair up high above her head and running around the classroom to catch a nitwit student was definitely a classic); Sir Innocencio Estangki who's been a mentor to me and my classmates on discipline and a fun and energetic MAPEH and Social Studies teacher; Mam Angeline Sumedca with her malutong na malutong na 'baddarong! (or was it spelled this way: bad the wrong?)' or else a similarly malutong na malutong na 'Domacyon!' that maybe even the aliens in outerspace would have curled and blasted off to another galaxy out of fear; Mam Cherr Umaming with a trail of logarithms following her out the door; Mam Cheryl Tauli for her small stature but terribly strict in class when it comes to making her students learn and not just pass in her Biology class; Mam Rosalia Padayao and her more-than-asked characterization and adlibs on the Noli Me Tangere; Sir Gary Joven Makellay (may he rest in peace) for being one of the teachers who never gets mad, just teaches what is right and what is wrong either in sports or in livelihood education; Mam Felicidad Sibayan for her rich vocabulary in Filipino; Mam Dominga Tocong (may she rest in peace) for her scientific observations and theories that could drive me up the wall and make some of my classmates run for their lives; Mam Sarah Baldo for her rich vocabulary on the English language and for teaching us how to value our education; Sir Delfin Lasdacan for teaching us that do is do, re is re, mi is mi and so on and for teaching us that music is definitely good for the heart and mind (except for me who definitely would just keep my mouth shut since I know my music isn't good for the ears). OF course, all the rest never fail to astonish me with their own skills and talents... kasi yan ang 'tatak SagadaNHS'... So proud to have them touch my life... (=^_^=)

SQUATTING. You may not believe it but having no classrooms and not enough facilities to help with your schooling has definitely been one of the treasured moments I've had in this school. I've felt how it is to hear snide remarks from other people about the makeshift building, how to stay focused on the lessons with the hot sun burning down our backs since the classrooms have no ceilings, how to try to grasp the concepts our teachers were saying since we don't have enough facilities (imagine learning about how a computer works without even knowing what a computer looks like), how to make the most of what you have, live with what you have.

And these, ladies and gentlemen made me who I am today--strong, standing tall, fortified, with experiences I never would have experienced in college... --lexaelaine--

Our own Tudor mansion: love at first sight

Over the past five years, we’ve changed residence thrice. We had to move out from our former home since it became too far for my mother’s aging legs and my brother’s occasional whining of hiring transportation.

Waiting for a ride after class is almost next to impossible since the last trip for Besao jeepneys pass through Sagada by 4PM. The bus from Baguio, the bus that arrives prior to the last trip passes through the town by 5PM. The last trip passes at 7PM. My mom is an elementary school teacher and gets off work at 5PM and my brother was a grade 4 student in the same school. It’s unlikely that they would catch the bus. Also, it tires and pains my brother and mom to be waiting for the 7PM trip. Walking was the only option and walking home would take almost 45 minutes to an hour, with all their school bags on one hand, and on the other, bags of vegetables and fruits and food for dinner, and for breakfast and lunch the next day. The last resort we had to do was pack up and move to the town’s center, or at least a place nearer to the school my mom works and my brother attends.

We first stayed at my Auntie Jean’s house of which was vacant for years now until we occupied it. The place was great and accessible enough but then we had a water problem. Water was scarce. Not a drop of water from the faucet even in the early morning and late evening. With my mom being a teacher and having lots of work to do for the next day’s lessons, fetching water was like a luxury she couldn’t afford. It was too tedious and waiting for a drop of water to none was keeping my mom and brother up till the wee hours of the morning, which detrimentally affects my mom’s effectivity to work and my brother’s performance in school. And so, once again, we packed up and moved out to a place even nearer to school (5 minutes walk). Here we stayed for more than two years, a lot longer than when we were at our aunt’s house. We had no problems there whatsoever. Water was abundant, thanks to Uncle Edmund and Uncle Chad. Then came a time when we had to move once more. So for the third time, we packed up and moved to another house, which was near the previous house we leased but 2 minutes farther to school than the distance from the previous house.

Upon stepping on the portals of our new rented house, the very first word that came to my mind was ‘Tudor’. I’ve always wanted to think that we lived in a Tudor mansion since then. I’ve always loved the vertical and diagonal blackened timbers, thatched roofs, overhanging first floors called galleries, pillared porches, dormer windows and leaded windows with small window panes, high and spiraled chimneys. A typical Tudor house displays that some of the lower stories are built in stone, and arches are smaller and flattened as opposed to the pointed Gothic arches.

But no. It’s not what it’s supposed to be. It isn’t really what you imagine as one of those ancient Tudor mansions. Living in an actual Tudor mansion is a luxury we could not afford. I actually just coined the name itself due to the two adjacent main doors opening to the house’s warm and welcoming interior. When I first set foot in our new home, I was curious of what would be behind those doors. For a full minute, I stood outside both doors, contemplating, before I inserted the key into the lock. A gush of warmth washed through my trembling and excited self as I stepped inside, right into the dining room. The other door opens to the receiving area (sala). A plank of wood only separates the two doors and a curtain separates the dining and receiving area. It was something I never expected. I know not what to think. But, I loved the house just as I loved Tudor houses I see in the movies and pictures. It was cute. The stairs seemed rickety upon setting my plump and hefty foot on the first step. It was also more of a one-way staircase when I’m the one walking up or down the stairs. The bedrooms were cute as well – enough for only a bed and a night table. The kitchen was wide enough for a dance hall, so with the receiving area. The bathroom was big enough to accommodate my corpulent excuse for a body. And the toilet was more of a pour-flush raised latrine.

A lot of speculations and issues are raised regarding us moving house but no matter how many times we move out or no matter where we go, it is still HOME in the comfort and love of my mom and siblings. That’s what matters most, be it a Tudor mansion or a two-door country house, or a doorless four-walled containment.

Straight from the heart

One of the things I hate most is being compared to other people. I am not 'them'. But rather than contemplating on how to go about that and my feelings, I've stood my ground. I did not get hurt and I will never get hurt. Rather, I will take this as a challenge --to do my best, to strive hard as a God-fearing creature, to live the way I am supposed to live, and to make my lineage proud of one Lexa Elaine Daoas Capuyan. I've lived my life the way I like it without hurting other people. I don't care how different I am from others. All that matters is that I am true to myself and the people I love, the people I'm dealing with every minute of everyday... And that's that. No holds barred.

Way too proud and boastful, am I? Well, I'll let you be the judge of that...

Close call

Had quite a scare today. It was a little around 4PM today and I was busily updating our website as Ma'am Cherr was counseling a student on the benefits of finishing the school year and letting him weigh his own choices, while Mam Lucinda was clearing her table of quizz papers and stuff.

The other teachers barely left to go and teach their next classes when suddenly, loud popping sounds caused Mam Luz, Mam Cherr and the student to jump from their seats as sparks flew around the entrance to the faculty room. I was still sitting in front of the laptop (Thanks, KOICA!), my fingers still tapping the keyboard trying to save what I did. The lights went blinking on and off just like a Christmas light. It was like the fourth of July inside the Faculty Room.

After sitting still for a moment from shock, I heard Mam Cherr shouting for Sir Joe but then Sir Joe was way far from the room to hear us. She nudged the student she was counseling to switch off the main switches but to no avail. There were still sparks coming from above the door. Then we heard Sir Elvis outside saying that the wire supplying the room's electrical energy caught fire. Accordingly, he was about to enter the faculty room when the sparks started going off at every direction. Just as suddenly as the sparks and the popping sound had started, they also stopped.

I stuck my head outside the door wary of the fire and sparks above my head. I could see the worry and the fear in Sir Elvis' eyes as he told me that the fire was still burning. I rushed back in and prepared to leave the faculty room quickly before the fire burns in. Without even thinking of turning the laptop I was using off or even plugging it out of its socket, I rushed out.

Mam Cherr and Mam Lucinda were right behind me trying to get me to hurry. We ran outside as far as we could get from the sparks. Students from the computer laboratory just below the faculty filed out and calmly made their way to the quadrangle as well.

Sir Caligtan was then rushing toward the faculty room, all the while telling some of the boys to call the MOPRECO technicians. One of them ran as fast as he could and was back in less than 10 minutes bearing good news that the technicians were on their way. Sir Caligtan's initial inspection revealed that the main line short circuited, thus the cause of the sparks and popping sound.

The MOPRECO techs came and confirmed Sir Cal's inspection. The situation has somehow calmed down and things were going back to normal.The students' resumed their classes but with the lights off. For the meantime, the situation was solved.

Whew! At those few moments we were in the faculty room, I thought I would never see the light of day. Questions kept rushing up my head. What if the fire spread? What if we hadn't kept our cool? What if we didn't have the mind to pull down the lever of the mainswitch? What if we all panicked? What if the fire got bigger? What if...? Never ending questions flustered my mind. We never knew what would have happened if by then the fire just had kindled itself and spread. I shudder in fear to even think of what would have happened.

At the end of all these chaos and after a breath of fresh air and relief, we just laughed and joked about at the moments of stupidity and ignorance we committed in such a limited time -- what with me sitting still and not doing anything, Mam Cherr shouting for Sir Joe even though she knew Sir was far enough not to hear her, Sir Elvis hooked and frozen by the steps outside, and Mam Luz retrieving her paycheck from her desk drawer that she kept seconds before the scary experience.

Despite all the chaos and breaths of relief, we still thank the Lord that we were all safe and no one was hurt. My gosh! That was really a close call.

Panauhing-pandangal: The Last Attempt

Naaalala niyo pa ba yung sinulat kong tungkol dun sa pagkaka-offer sa akin na maging isang panauhing pandangal? Marahil ay hindi. Inofferan ako ng alma mater hiskul ko na mag-guest speaker para sa Senior's day. Di na ako magpapatumpik-tumpik pa. Ang end nun, tinanggap ko yung offer. Mangyari lamang ay basahin ninyo ang buong paglalahad dito.

Wari ko ay nagtatanong kayo kung bakit eto na naman tayo sa paksang iyon. Sapagkat wala lang akong magawa at gusto ko lang naman ipagpatuloy ang kwentong iyon na kunwari ay may nag-aabang sa susunod nitong kabanata. Alam ko. Walang nag-aabang. Kunwari nga lang, di ba?

So ayun na nga. Tinanggap ko yun three weeks before nung affair. Sa di inaasahang pagkakataon, kelangan kong magtungo ng Baguio para ayusin ang ilang importanteng dokumento (Wow! Wala lang. Basta wow.).

Akala ko makakabalik ako agad. Isang linggo nalang bago yung event. Hala! Wala pa pala akong nagagawang speech. May speech talaga yon. Akala ko wala. Naghabol ako sa mga dokumentong di pa naaayos hanggang ngayong oras na sinusulat ko ito. Hay, anu ba yan! Kakaasar.

Isinantabi ko muna yung pagproseso ng mga yun. Gumawa ako ng bonggang-bonggang speech nang gabing iyon. Gumamit pa talaga ako ng Powerpoint. Andun na lahat ng datos na kakailanganin ko. Andun na lahat ng mga posibleng kursong kukunin ng mga bata sa kolehiyo.

Dalawang araw nalang. Reding-ready na ako para sa speech. Tinuloy ko nanaman magpasign at maghabol ng mga maiilap na instructors at staff nurses para dun sa PRC templates ko. Hala. Bukas na yung event. Madami pa aku ipapasign. Ay, alam ko na. Maraming oras pa naman para sa signing. Tutal, di rin ako makakaabot ng July board dahil hinihintay pa namin ang pagbabalik nung isang staff nurse mula sa kung saang lupalop ng mundo nagliwaliw.

Kampante akong umakyat ng bus para sa Sagada na para ala-una. Nakauwi na ako't nagpapahinga nang maisipan kong itala muna yung mga sasabihin ko bukas sa isang kodigo. Yun bang mga 'strong points only' ika nga sa wikang Ingles.

Laking pagkadismaya ko nang di ko mabuksan yung flash drive ko. Leche! Pati ba naman flash drive may corruption na nagaganap?! Tumawag ako agad sa mga kapatid ko para isend yung file. Patay! Ayaw magsend sa dropbox account ko. Hindi naman puno yung dropbox ko. Bakante nga eh. 2GB ang kayang i-contain nun.

Di na ako nag-abala pa. Gumawa nalang ako ng bago. Salamat sa SMARTBRO at sa paminsan-minsan nama'y mabilis kong pag-iisip. Kaso, hindi na siya bongga. Naku, mapapahiya yata aku nito kinabukasan. May parents pa namang dadalo. Hhala! Alalang-alala na talaga ako nung panahong iyon. Hinihintay ko parin yung file mula sa mga kapatid ko. Alas-kuwatro na ng umaga. Wala parin. Makatuwiran ba naman tong nangyayari sa akin ngayon? Malamang hindi.

Ayun, kinalaunan, nerbyos na nerbyos talaga ako. Di ko na talaga alam ang gagawin ko. Alangan naming magback-out ako eh andun na ako. Ayun, natuloy parin pero wala akong kaener-energy na nagspeech. Binigay ko naman yung best ko na alalain yung detalye nung nasa una kong ginawa pero lalong gugulo kaya bits and pieces lang na importante yung mga siningit ko.

Super nakakahiya talaga sa mga parents, students and teachers yung speech kong iyon. Lalo na kay Sir Cal. Naturingan kang magaling tapos puchu-puchu yung message mo? Anu daw yun, di ba? Ampft... Nung pagkatapos ng speech ko, gusto ko talagang bumuka yung lupa at lamunin nalang ako. Inappreciate ko na kinongratulate ako ng mga parents, teachers and students, na kinongratulate ako ni Sir. Ang di ko lang maappreciate ay ang sarili ko. Alam ko kasi sa sarili ko na kulang yung binigay ko. Kulang yung ginawa ko para sa mga estudyante. Kulang na kulang talaga. Pero at least may kaunti naman akong naibahagi... I don't regret that. Atleast meron parin...

Atleast meron paring natitirang kawalang-hiyaan sa katawan ko para samahan silang kumain nang mag-lunch time na.

Dito po nagtatapos ang napakaboring kong manuscript. Maraming salamat po sa aking mga masusugid na tagapagsubaybay sa masalimuot kong buhay.

Meron nga ba? The END (totoo na 'to).

The truth about college

Credits: The World Wide Web

College is a bunch of rooms where you sit for two thousand hours or so and try to memorize things. The two thousand hours are spread out over four years. You spend the rest of the time sleeping, partying, and trying to get dates.

Basically, you learn two kinds of things in college

1. Things you will need to know in later life (two hours).

2. Things you will not need to know in later life (1,998 hours).

The latter are the things you learn in classes whose names end in -ology, -osophy, -istry, -ics, and so on. The idea is, you memorize these things, then write them down in little exam books, then forget them. If you fail to forget them, you become a professor and have to stay in college for the rest of your life.

After you've been in college for a year or so, you're supposed to choose a major, which is the subject you intend to memorize and forget the most things about. Here is a very important piece of advice be sure to choose a major that does not involve Known Facts and Right Answers. This means you must not major in mathematics, physics, biology, or chemistry, or geology because these subjects involve actual facts.

If, for example, you major in mathematics, you're going to wander into class one day and the professor will say "Define the cosine integer of the quadrant of a rhomboid binary axis, and extrapolate your result to five significant vertices." If you don't come up with exactly the answer the professor has in mind, you fail.

The same is true of chemistry if you write in your exam book that carbon and hydrogen combine to form oak, your professor will flunk you. He wants you to come up with the same answer he and all the other chemists have agreed on. Scientists are extremely snotty about this.

So you should major in subjects like English, philosophy, psychology, and sociology -- subjects in which nobody really understands what anybody else is talking about, and which involve virtually no actual facts. I attended classes in all these subjects, so I'll give you a quick overview of each.

ENGLISH. This involves writing papers about long books you have read little snippets of just before class. Here is a tip on how to get good grades on your English papers Never say anything about a book that anybody with any common sense would say. For example, suppose you are studying Moby Dick. Anybody with any common sense would say that Moby Dick is a big white whale, since the characters in the book refer to it as a big white whale roughly eleven thousand times. So in your paper, you say Moby Dick is actually the Republic of Ireland. Your professor, who is sick to death of reading papers and never liked Moby Dick anyway, will think you are enormously creative. If you can regularly come up with lunatic interpretations of simple stories, you should major in English.

PHILOSOPHY. Basically, this involves sitting in a room and deciding there is no such thing as reality and then going to lunch. You should major in philosophy if you plan to take a lot of drugs.

PSYCHOLOGY. This involves talking about rats and dreams. Psychologists are obsessed with rats and dreams. I once spent an entire semester training a rat to punch little buttons in a certain sequence, then training my roommate to do the same thing. The rat learned much faster. My roommate is now a doctor. If you like rats or dreams, and above all if you dream about rats, you should major in psychology.

SOCIOLOGY. For sheer lack of intelligibility, sociology is far and away the number one subject. I sat through hundreds of hours of sociology courses, and read gobs of sociology writing, and I never once heard or read a coherent statement. This is because sociologists want to be considered scientists, so they spend most of their time translating simple, obvious observations into scientific-sounding code. If you plan to major in sociology, you'll have to learn to do the same thing. For example, suppose you have observed that children cry when they fall down. You should write "Methodological observation of the sociometrical behavior tendencies of prematurated isolates indicates that a causal relationship exists between groundward tropism and lachrimatory behavior forms." If you can keep this up for fifty or sixty pages, you will get a large government grant.

Remember, education is a lot more than just school.

Ms. Pakipot: Short-ended nga lang

'You may now take your seats.' Yan ang unang mga salitang lumabas sa aking mga bibig kasabay nang isang ngiting abot-tenga.

Nyahaha... Ang sarap pala ng feeling na ikaw mismo ang makakapagbanggit ng mga salitang iyon. Nagmimistula akong napakaimportanteng tao. Wahaha... Akala ko lang iyon. Masama bang purihin paminsan-minsan ang sariling tuyot sa papuri? Hindi naman siguro, di ba?

Eto na nga. Inimbita ako ng graduating class ng Sagada National High School para sa Senior's day nila. Aba, ako naman itong si Ms. Pakipot. Tumanggi daw ako a. Feel na feel ko talaga. Ang totoo niyan, kakatapos lang nung libing ng kulang nalang sa 1 year, eh century old na lola ko. Eh, sa dami ng mga pinaggagagawa naming mga Igorot dahil sa pagmamahal sa aming kultura at dahil na rin sa respeto ng aming mga ninuno, baka hindi ko mapaghandaan ng husto yung alok nila. Siyempre, kelangan kareerin ang pagka-panauhing pandangal at kung hindi ay baka mauwi sa panauhing walang dangal.

Ehe. Okay na sana eh. Umayaw na ako at tinanggap naman ni Sherenne (siya yung nagtext kung available daw ba akong mag-guest speaker). Sabi pa niya, maghahanap daw sila ng iba. Tinanong niya rin ako kung may pwede pumalit sa aking puwesto (Aba, may pwesto na daw ako.) Siyempre, nag-suggest ako ng di lang isa. Madami akong na-suggest. Sila Rose, Kimberly, Wilfredo, Lester, Daniel at Cindy. Kasama na rin diyan si Manang Karen, Manang Roxanne, Manong JR, Manong Chester, etc.

So, happy na ako sa desisyon na iyon. Wala na akong problema. Sayang man ang oportunidad pero wala akong magagawa. Marami pa namang Senior's day ang darating. Lumipas ang dalawang araw. Naging textmate kami ni Sherenne. Pamangkin din kasi siya nung may-ari ng bahay na nirerentahan namin.

Papunta na ako sa Dao-angan para tumulong para sa unang 'senga' ni lola. Kalalabas ko lang ng bahay nang bigla kong nakasalubong si Sir Cal. Napahapo ako sa noo. Naku, patay ako nito. Yun na nga. Tinanong ni Sir kung nagtext daw ba yung mga seniors. Nilahad ko na lahat pati na rin yung dahilan ko sa di ko pagpayag, pati na rin yung mga na-suggest kong mga mas nararapat maging panauhing pandangal. Nagulat ako sa sagot ni sir. Isang napaka-cool at walang kaabug-abog na, 'NO'. Alam ko namang magaling mangumbinse si Sir. Ang di ko alam, ganito pala siya kagaling mangumbinse. Isang salita lang at POOF! I became koko-crunch. Wahaha... Walang aangal. Bakit ba? Kakaenroll ko palang sa Cheesy 101. Pero, ang cool talaga ni Sir. Idol!

Kaya ayun, tinanggap ko ang offer. The END.

The Debt That All Men Pay

From the confines of my work table

I was beating the deadline. I've got three more 500 word articles to write in just an hour and there I was--stumped. My mind's not working. It felt like all the words were scrubbed clean from the parts of my brain along Broca's and Wernicke's abode. So, I tried to take a break. I visited my Facebook account and said a few hellos to my twitter followers. It was not a few minutes after I logged in to these social networking sites when I received a text message from my mom that my grandmother was in the hospital. Yes, my grandmother was sick and had been in the hospital for about a week or so. I've planned to take a week off from work inorder to visit her and my boss eagerly agreed but to start my week off on March 6. It was February 26.

A minute later, my cellphone kept beeping with a continuous array of incoming messages. My mother has been keeping me updated about grandma. I was worried. I was e-mailing my employer that I had to go home the next day. Five minutes later, mom said grandma's breathing was slowing down. That was when I realized grandma wasn't about to make it through the night, though I prayed she would atleast wait for me to come home. A minute later after I have sent an email to my employer, ma informed me grandma passed away. It was 7:30 that evening.

I really didn't know what to do for a while. I was shocked. My grandma was old but I never expected her to pass away that early. She was strong. The last time I was home, she was singing and talking frantically. That was a month ago.

And then I felt something. It was a familiar feeling-- a feeling of guilt, a little bit of anger, and a great deal of sadness. Yes, I've felt this way before. And now all those feelings I've gotten over with are now coming back to haunt me one more time. I've never really been there beside my dad when he was battling the Big C. I've been in school trying my very best to make my parents proud of me. I never even knew how grave my dad's condition was until mom had us (my 2 sisters and my brother) visit him at St. Luke's. I never knew he was dying until I saw him go lifeless as I held on to his hands while he was getting prepared for dialysis. It was too late for me to act even though I still tried to connect my dad's oxygen tube to the porthole and up the dosage to 10 litres per minute. My hands were shaking so bad. I wanted to cry but then tears failed to fall. I found myself staring at my mom, crying so hard, so jealous of those tears streaming down her lovely face. I was shocked, stunned, blank, zilch. And then I had to do the hardest thing to do that day. I had to tell my sisters and my barely out-of-toddlerhood brother that dad has passed away. That day was the saddest and the most difficult day in my life.

And here I am feeling the same way about my grandma. The guilt, the anger, the sadness. I never thought I'd feel this way again but here I am wallowing in the same quicksand I have saved myself from years before.

I sent a quick message to my friends that I could not make it for the Itogon outing, logged off and prepared to go home the next day. I never even sent an e-mail to my employer that I am taking the week off early. I just packed my things and stayed up all night, being kept updated by my mom and relatives back home.

The next day was a bit gloomy, as if it was grieving with me. I hopped on the bus bound for home and forced myself to sleep or else I'd just embarrass myself crying all the way home.

I reached Dao-angan in the afternoon and people were just starting to fall in. I went straight to look for my grandma and there she was in her room, on her bed, asleep. Peaceful. I swear I saw her chest rise as I walked in. I looked down upon her face and then I really knew that she is never coming back. Never again will I hear her voice. Never again will I see those beautiful 'bolinawan' eyes. Never again will I see her get out of her seat and brave to crawl the downward path to the pigpen to feed the pigs and crawl right back up to the house while weeding. Never again will I see her hunched down uprooting my uncle's freshly-planted flowers. Never again will I see her talking to the seemingly moving images on a magazine. Lots of things I will never ever see again except when I reel back to back when. I knew right then when I was looking down at her that she will be dearly missed and her memories never forgotten. I silently prayed that the Lord would keep guiding grandma as she finds her way right into His kingdom.

I silently asked for forgiveness from Grandma for shouting at her before and for losing my patience about such trivial things as poking the fire when it's burning, weeding, losing her dentures, and even removing her diapers. I knew it was not my responsibility and I have no right to chide her for doing these. I am so sorry that it was only now that I have understood what it was to be old. Enrolling in the Nursing course helped me realize the wrong things I've done before. And now I feel guilty of the past. I never had the time and commitment to right what I've done wrong. And now I'm too late. I was a day, a month, a year, a lot of opportunities too late. I know the Lord knows how sorry I am and I do hope that wherever grandma is now, she knows how I feel. Forgive me.

I hope that someday when I am able to pay the debt that all men pay, Grandma would be there standing beside St. Peter, my father, Uncle Rudy, Uncle Greg, Uncle Steve and Uncle Jesus, smiling, reaching her hand to me and welcoming me to enter those ever-famous Pearly Gates.

Rosaria 'Basali' Na-oy Capuyan: An Unsung Hero

Here I am, sitting in front of my computer typing anything that comes to my mind. I have lost an hour of electricity thinking of how I could start this article. I haven’t come up with anything catchy and so this state.

For the past few days since my grandmother passed away, I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even think of something to write. I was told by my cousin to write something about my grandmother, just like a tribute, and nothing came to mind. I had, I think, writer’s block. Well, the stress and the shock of my grandmother’s departure may have some effect to that. Usually, I could think readily of something to write if the need comes up. My mind was just a blank slate. I was distracted. I was tired. I was not my usual self. But…

Amidst everything that transpired, I still had a little strength to keep the blood running through my veins and start writing. So here goes: There haven’t been much time spent between my grandmother and I when I was a child for as long as I could remember but I do believe that my grandmother was and will always be a woman of all sorts—a caring and protective mother, an industrious and responsible daughter, a strict and loving grandmother, a no-holds-barred and compassionate aunt, a giving and forgiving sister, a trusted and trusting friend.

Yes, that’s what the name Rosaria ‘Basali’ Naoy Capuyan holds. She may be petite but to me, she held the world at her hands. That said, I know of one thing (which my mother and father relayed to us when we were young). Grandma Basali was never one to shy away from ominous rumblings of danger or crumble down when storms of challenges rush past her. She was never one to back down. She was never a person to think of herself first before others. Never selfish. Never one to cower when bolts of obstacles strike from the heavens. Instead, she braved every raging storm, every bullet of trouble, every downpour which brought danger to her loved ones. My grandmother was that strong – a superhero in my own slit inscrutable eyes.

Images of my spent time with Grandma rush past my eyes as I look upon my Grandma's face on her bed. I remember when I was young, Grandma Basali took me to Danonoy to "lumokso". I would never forget the time when I went with her to the fields and watched as she dug up the soil and was amazed as elongated things from the ground emerged as she turned the soil inside out and there I was watching from the sidelines. I called these Things "food from the ground" and later on learned they were called camote.

My Grandma has been forever an epitome of a tender loving and caring Grandma. As we were about to go home from the fields, she would pack some of the camote she gathered in a piece of cloth or sack and tied the ends together. Then she attached it to the end of a stick and gave it to me to carry and then we went on our way home. This only shows that she always did everything to make things easier and better for others.

Even after years and years of not seeing Grandma as she was in the States, she still came back as a tender-loving and caring Grandma. She would always tell us to feed the people first before we feed her. At 92, she could still walk well and find a pot to use for cooking rice. She would always tell us to check if there would be enough food or if we have cooked rice because as she always says, "inayan tay nu wada dumateng".

I am really really grateful that the Lord has bestowed upon us a Grandma as grandma Basali. I, with my sisters and brother are really thankful that you are our Grandma. Thank you very much for having our dad and for having us.

I would never forget what you have done for us, Grandma. You will always be part of us and your memories will linger on. Keep guiding us as you always have done. We will miss you dearly.

----- Bravo's Angels ------

Sagada Town Fiesta 2011: Sagada Etag Festival

It seemed eons ago when I attended the Sagada Town Fiesta. The last I remember was the Sagada Town Fiesta before I left home for my schooling in the city. I was so overwhelmed with excitement and the excitement was so intense that I never was able to sleep the night before the Grand Parade. Tossing and turning on my makeshift bed of unsheeted mattress set upon the wooden floor of our leased house, I kept reminiscing on the events that have happened during my last Sagada fiesta experience. A smile crept on my face as I remembered faces I have seen, games I have watched, and activities I have participated in. All those years ago have been to me a flood of memories coming back to haunt me.

The extremely cold temperature in Sagada these days has not stopped the community from pushing through with the Sagada Town Fiesta encompassing the widely dubbed Sagada Etag Festival. With the theme “Nurturing our Common Origin amidst Converging Cultures”, the festivities started on the 28^th with the PNP Band Concert by the Camp Dangwa, La Trinidad police officers. The painful sting of the wind and the intense cold was nothing to the many viewers from the different barangays of Sagada who've come to witness such genuine talents. The audience endured the stinging wind and even the rain showers just to witness these talented policemen play in tune with their cool voices. The light of the night was when Sagada vice-mayor, Richard A. Yodong took the center stage and with one of the PNP officers, sang a popular song in the ‘60s (which title I fail to recall), as the PNP band played along. The night was already coming to a close and yet the band kept playing as the willing audience felt the warmth of their voices move stealthily into the soul. Their voices and the great accompaniment was enough to keep us warm and contented all through the night. Their voices were so warm and comforting that even the wintry wind blowing amidst our faces immediately warmed up to them. I wasn't able to finish the concert since my mom and I rushed home. They had to have their beauty rest so as to look fresh for the parade the next morning.

I was still wide awake when I heard my mother’s strident footsteps going down the stairs. Ugh! I covered my ears with my acini-secreted-fluid-colored pillow of billowy soft puffs until those thunderous footsteps faded out. It was not long when then I witnessed a streak of light through a crack of my supposed to be drawn floor-length tapestry (as if! curtains lang kadi.), of which adds a bit of grandeur to my place of refuge. Ugh! It was that great dense ball of plasma, and here those so-called genius astronomers with the likes of Copernicus, Kepler and Galileo call it a yellow DWARF. Serves them right being condemned by the Catholic Church, burned at the stake, and being called fools.

Anyway, since the fairy of the night ignored my plea for shuteye, I took an icy early morning bath (at that time, I thought it maybe my last bath in Sagada), and got ready to watch the parade for my mom and brother have already left. I perched myself atop the chinked cement edge of the near-dilapidated waiting shed, unwary of the jeers and friendly bantering of familiar faces telling me to step off the ledge. It was the best place to watch. Find your seats. First come, first served. Haha! Sutil!

The parade started. And there I was, with a smile plastered on my zit-pervaded face, satisfactorily dangling my similarly Wuchureria bancrofti-infected legs off the ledge as the PNP band played beneath, commencing the civic parade. Sagada town officials and visitors from La Trinidad LGU and other municipalities followed. Amidst those officials and visitors, I caught a glimpse of Ma’am Rosalia Padayao and company bearing the banner of the ECW, singing ‘ginga, pising ya etag…’. 

The Sagada Central School drum and bugle corps was my own pride and honor. I missed the rhythm of the drums and the wonderful sound of the lyres, also the graceful swing of flags of the majorettes. Of course, the SCS pupils were amusing to watch for I remembered how small we were then, innocently proud, waving and smiling at spectators. The Sagada National High School students gave me a sense of pride as I for one have traversed those streets with head held high just as they have done. Much to my delight, who was I to espy but the living souls who have made us who we are today, our teachers: Sir Joseph Caligtan (current teacher in-charge of Sagada High), who has the lowest eyebrows ever but of which has made him more handsome and knowledgeable; Sir Innocencio Estangki, who’s a fighter at heart with his arnis-savvy and other martial arts combat dexterity, having that proud i-Besao smile pasted on his suave, admirable face; Ma’am Angeline Sumedca, who still reigns as the faculty muse; Ma’am Cheryl Tauli, who's growth seems to have stunted but added to her cute, perky and youthful countenance; Ma’am Cherr Umaming, who has the most approachable of faces but is as austere as a caring and protecting mother; Ma’am Lucinda Baniaga, who has the softest of voices but the loudest when it comes to the heart; and some new faces, Ma’am Genevieve Dao-as, an English teacher who never fails to have me near her since she claims to be slender when I’m around; Ma’am Cerilo who teaches TLE to the freshmen and sophomores; Sir Elvis Biag, who of course still remains as handsome and cool as ever and teaches MAPEH; and a female practice teacher who’s name I failed to ask. I think Sir Daniel Thalkar was among them, also an English teacher helping out Ma’am Genevieve. Shin Kyoung-Kwan or whom we call Mika who had been part of Sagada National High, was with his fellow Koreans (kayang mag-tagalog ni Mika, pramis!). He was one of the fifth batches of the Korean International Cooperation Agency (KOICA) volunteers who were deployed to the Philippines. Mika was sent to Sagada to render school and community services for two years. According to him, the agency assigned him the job to create a webpage for the school, to teach computer basic skills to the teachers and students, and provide community services as part of being acquainted with the culture and traditions of the community. During the parade, he was in taekwondo uniform together with one other Korean. The ladies wore their traditional Hanbok for the occasion. The community was so glad to have the Koreans join the parade as shown by the loud applause when they pass by.

I have never been more entertained as I saw students from Ankileng National High School-Balugan extension. It brought laughter and amusement to the i-Sagada and visitors as the males wore very short skirts like those renowned Scottish kilts (Hehehe… Baga-bagay da met iman ah.) while the ladies wore pants. A giggle broke out of my more than entertained self as I saw some of the gentlemen holding their skirts between their legs (Maskaw da. Ay egay da et iman nairuwam ya. Hehe…).

The parade was really grand and fascinating as people in traditional Igorot costumes danced and played the gongs along the street. The proud INAGWABs caught my immediate attention as their gongs played a different kind of music. The IBOGANGs were also proud of their tomato-laden Minola or Baguio oil cans and their eggplant-lettered banner as they paraded the streets carrying these. The central barangays were also great, never letting the other barangays get the better of them when it comes to street dancing. The Northern barangays also stuck to my mind since my ogre-like uncle who dressed in a yellow t-shirt (and was that a green pair of pants? aw, come on. *me hiding face with cap*) was one to hold the banner, parading that big, lousy smile of his of which always makes me laugh.

So there. My day was half completed as I saw these people march on to maybe what they could call a victory dance since they had a contended battle ahead of them: the ground demonstration. Of course, Sagada National High School emerged victorious after scuffling the other contenders with their ‘arnis’. Sagada Central School placed 2^nd for their graceful swinging of the flags to the tune of the SCS band’s ‘mi-fa-sol-sol…’. In line with this, the Koreans participated through their fan dance or buchaechum, their own cultural dance. The Korean gentlemen showed their skills in taekwondo as well, which is well-known as their national sport.

And so the Sagada Town Fiesta started… Huh? But where’s the etag? Tsk, tsk… There it was hidden amongst the less crowded of people, a stall… a small stall… Even smaller than the nearby proud IBOGANG's stall. So there was where the etag was. And so the Etag Festival started…

The last day of the festival was just as exciting as the first since we had a chance to watch the tug-of-war between barangays and visitors. I was really hoping you guys were there to watch it. It was fun. One of my top three exciting moments in Sagada. The Literary-musical concert culminated the activities of the day. The 'darling of the crowd' if I may be permitted to say so was the contestant of Bangaan National High School for the solo category for he obviously caught the crowd's attention by the simplicity and innocence of his words. Let me share with you some of his words as he 'day-enged' (if there is no such word, I have made my own...) away... 

'ukatem nan matam

ta sak-en di iiiilam...

 ...men utu is etag sak an-anusan

subil mo'y malalalalaneban...'

(basta it was something like that)

 And thus the Sagada Etag festival and Town Fiesta ended. 

Program of Activities

Sagada Etag Festival

Sagada, Mountain Province

Jan 29-Feb2, 2011

‘Nurturing our common origin

amidst converging cultures’

January 28

7:00 PM             PNP Band concert

January 29

7:00 AM            Opening Ceremonies

8:00                 Civic Parade

                       Street Dancing

1:00 PM            Ground demonstrations per school

                       Cultural presentations per zone

4:00                 Dog walk

6 :3O               Ethnic music concert of song writer-students

                        with Pangkat Pinat, Kordilyera Jam, and local  musicians

January 30

8:00 AM          Holy Eucharist

9:00                  Etag making

                        Coffee cupping

                        Kimchi making

                        Ball Games

7:00                  Search for Miss Teen Sagada 2011

January 31

8:00 AM         Games

7:00 PM          Ballroom dancing & Benefit dance

February 1

8:00 AM         Quiz Bee

                        Essay Writing

                        Wushu

                        Games

1:00 PM          Indigenous games

February 2    (Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary)

8:00 AM         Candle procession

8:30                 Mass service

10:30               Games

5:00 PM          Literary and Musical contest

 Source: Sagada Etag Festival Program Committee