If you see Johnna Villaviray Giolagons throwback Monday photo (right below this post), the story goes: Wed gone through a couple of months covering the Mindanao conflict and terror threats elsewhere in the country, a senior reporter (Johnna) and editor/reporterforever (me). Wed ended up with a small mountain documents and hundreds, maybe thousands, of names we needed to keep straight in our heads. So we took a working vaca trip to Nasugbu. Darn serious gals we were, complete with Manila paper (right?) and each taking turns tracking who belonged to what and how circles intersected or how networks stretched like rubber bands. It may have been a sign of how badly we needed to step back a bit when we -- more I, really -- started imagining scenarios about a group of men who seemed not to be having fun in the resort and, instead, slipped quietly in and out of corridors and rooms. At one point, we got so tired, took a break. Videoke, of course, since there was no pianist and there were very few people around on a weekday. No more small talk! No mention of anyone with a name remotely sounding like one that would interest Boogie or Winnie. And no mention either of terrorist-hunting friends. And so we opened the Videoke guide. And there it was, the first song to greet us: LIBYAN ON A JET PLANE.
Posted on: Mon, 17 Nov 2014 04:09:42 +0000
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