ABOUT THIS BLOG

I've quit my job yesterday and for the one week I plan to rest, I will post some blog entries about the "simple man." These are people, men and women, who live the un-IT Park life. You get the general picture, I guess.

So this blog will run for about seven days and if you do not see ads here, it's because I do not intend to monetize. I don't know how. :P

Mr. M (M for "Mais")

The track leading to his farm is hidden under the lush leaves of short-growing trees. You would not even have known there was a path there. Unless, of course, if you were climbing at 5kph along the rough road that breaks towards that single track on the right and the steep head of the hairpin to the left.

The descent was steep, and since I never got learned how to compute gradients, I can only say it was steep enough to make you wonder why you've even gotten yourself there in the first place.

After the steep descent, you are met with a way steeper climb that springs so suddenly after you reach that "mini valley" always present between climbs and descents. That path, I thought, have dreamed of becoming a right angle at some point in time.

view of the climb from the top. it's amazing how climbs can turn to descents just by changing your viewpoint

Mr. M was at first surprised when he first saw me. He must have wondered what sort of a moron would ride his mountain bike on a track leading to a dead end on all sides. By that, I mean the path ends on a cliff while on one side of it was a deep ravine and on the other is a mass of land where the hill unrolls the rest of its steepness.

the flat track leading to Mr. M

Mr. M plants corn on that hill, "para kunsomo," he says. He does not sell them. He just grows them for that simple reason man began to plant stuff--so he'd have something to eat.

He grows what he calls "mais bisaya." He remarked that what we buy on the streets is called "hybrid" and it only takes a month for "bok-boks" to start eating them. Mais bisaya, on the other hand, could last almost a year before you place them on your cooking pot.

What I immediately noticed upon seeing Mr. M is the made-in-china radio he had beside him. When I was young, my grandma's mother had a radio that's got those knob dials that makes you feel like a submarine crew when you switch stations. It was made in the US. At least, Mr. M got something to keep him company while he waits for his corn to grow big enough. It does not take that long. Only four months--but an eternity for people who are so used to Google searches that only take 0.13 seconds to complete.

Mr. M talking about the other barangays in his place

But that's life for Mr. M. Food to eat, air to breathe, and a radio to listen to.