The past week

contained my family observing Lent, my nephew's birthday, my mother's birthday, and my school break all in one.  Pasco, me and our friend from the office rode up to San Fernando, La Union with my brother-in-law, thus saving fare money.  (That didn't stop us - or at least me - from going back down to Marikina with nearly empty pockets, though.)

We went to Asin hot springs near Baguio the next day, the highlight of which was me and my sister screaming like ninnies on a hanging bridge (damn these hanging bridges).  All of them - my mother, my brother-in-law, my nephew, my niece, my mother, my office friend - made it to the other side.  More than a quarter through it me and my sister turned back and went down to the river under pretense of taking pictures of them all, and they were marching through the bridge like it was nothing.  My niece and nephew ran back and forth through it because they are still young and therefore invincible.  

We stayed at one of the resorts (the pronunciation of which baffled all of us, so we naturally made fun of it) for a night, swam in sulfuric water supposedly good for I have no idea which body parts of what creature's body, was entertained by some Koreans playing classical pieces on the resort's piano, and slept on twelve beds.  It was my mother's 75th birthday, the few pictures of which are in the camera that I lost, and regret losing, if only because I have no pictures of my mother on her 75th birthday.

Neither can I post magnificent photographs of the droves of tourists snaking their cars up to Mt. Sto. Tomas to walk the stations of the cross on top of it, near the twin radars that pass for Baguio's air-conditioning unit.  (Until now I have no idea what they're really for.)  We walked almost two kilometres under a bleating sun to and from the stations, together with some tourists that seemed to take selfies at each station after praying.  Pasco, my nephew Tres and I stopped near the fourth station to get two orders of Belgian fries (yes), and were stuffed with them and with the story of how "French fries" is a historically inaccurate name for them.  We finished walking through the stations after lunch time, and went back down from the mountain to the city in one-sixteenth of the time it took us to climb up. 

It was on the trip back to San Fernando that I lost my camera and my phone.  I got my phone back, however, due to a Korean (at least I'm pretty certain he's Korean) saying he found the phone on a street several barangays and at least three hills away from where we supposed it was lost.  The return involved complicated planning and texting and waiting by a gasoline station in the next town, as well as luck, coincidences, kindness, and a Korean.  

We spent the Saturday on my brother-in-law's farm in Paagan, where my nephew celebrated his birthday.  In this photo you can see him immensely enjoying his birthday, thankful for all the grace he received and all the food prepared for him.

(My sister let me borrow her camera though/and I have no idea how to use it, hence the pictures.)  After the farm we went to the beach.  Surprisingly it was not saturated with as many people as I imagined it would be.    

And here's my niece running through the shore like it was that hanging bridge.

Come Sunday we were back in Marikina, where I then proceeded to take pictures of the cat.  She just turned four (or five..?) months old, and gained about ten pounds.  In fur.  I spent the Monday after the trip cleaning as much of the house as I can.  I realized I should've also cleaned the cat, since she doubles as a mobile dustball. 

It was a good trip.  After four months in the lowlands, I breathed the sigh I reserve only for home.