Straight from the journ/dia

As I write, my father rehearses the words he's prepared for his father's funeral. He told me this morning, as we ate tilapia and drank coffee for breakfast, that he was unsure if he could say them. When he wrote them on the eve of our flight, he had a look of sorrow - one that only shows itself after an irreparable loss. Today is my grandfather - Tatay Pol's - funeral.

Yesterday my brother and I squandered 100 pesos on two winnable basketball games. Getting out on the court entices me to get out for more.

I got my first bug bites last night, as I slept in Ate Annette's vacant living room - on a couch not within reach of the fan. My lip is as swole as Angelina Jolie's.

Some of the most fun I've had so far, looking back at this trip at it's midpoint, is playing with my cousins, especially the little ones.