Well, Nicolas said I looked good. I certainly don’t feel good. Am extremely moody and irritable. But I think that has more to do with feeling cooped up and bored. And eating fucking vegetables.

I did survive the fiesta well.

General Luna’s feast day is celebrated over two days, the 21st and the 22nd of September, in honor of which patron saint is not really important. What is important is the two-day pork fest and the drinking.

While fiestas are celebrated throughout the Philippines, the people of Siargao seem to be especially keen on it. They’ll work without complaint through Easter and the Christmas holidays, but if you tell them they have to give fiesta a miss, you risk facing a mutiny.

Don’t expect to find fish and vegetables at a fiesta table. That’s what the locals eat everyday and consider peasant food. It’s a special day, nevermind if nobody remembers why, and it calls for special food. Which means pork, pork, and more pork. Okay, maybe there’ll be a token carrot and potato – underneath a mound of pork. But if the family that invited you is especially wealthy, you might get a break from the pork fest and find some carabao or beef among the dead pig parts.

Oh, and bring your own mineral water. This fiesta was brought to you by Coca-Cola and Tanduay Rum.

So, last Friday, I stared fixedly at the crackling on the lechon, while Nicolas sat next to me, smacking his lips, licking his fingers, and swooning to our host that he was in heaven.

It’s a good thing we don’t linger at these things for very long. We headed back to the house right after dinner, where I had a plate of raw pancit waiting for me in the fridge. (Read: grated semi-ripe papaya with some lemon-ginger sauce.)

Small wonder I’m in a vile mood.

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