These two cover shoots came out a month ago, I just found out. Styled by Tata Mapa. Shot for Hinge Inquirer. If you see it in the bookstores, buy it!

Good Housekeeping, December 2012 issue.

My cover photo for Good Housekeeping Philippines’ December issue.

Styling by Cleone Baradas, recipe by Roselle Miranda, art direction by Kara Miranda Ballesteros.

Just so you all know I still take pictures for a living between bike rides. Haha.

my Sunday ride

Near where I live, across EDSA, is an exclusive, gated subdivision where the country’s tycoons, CEOs and politicians live. It’s also where, as of late, in the absence of long, group rides, I’ve been doing my short, solo Sunday rides.

I have a high school/bike buddy who lives there and because I am, as Italian gangsters say, “connected,” I have a car pass that gets me into this nice village, and allows me to bike on their nice, wide, tree-lined streets. On certain days of the week, at certain times of the day, traffic is slow, and all you have to deal with are the annoying road humps.

I’ll take it. I’ve taken so much of it that I’ve created a bunch of Strava segments in this village. (There’s a 4.5km loop, a 2.5km loop and a gentle 600 meter “climb.”) It can get a bit mind-numbing, the number of laps I have to do around the subdivision, just to get some kilometers on my legs, but it’s safe, the homes are nice to look at, and it will do.

I’m not the only guy on a bike on this route. Especially on Sundays, it’s a bit of a mix. There’s the usual executive-class, Lycra-clad jock on this TT bike (ugh), some helmetless, expat country manager on his $10,000 all-carbon ride, a retro eccentric on his steel Pinarello, and the random politician on his $14,000 custom ti*. A bunch of them, including me, are in t-shirts, unclipped, on mountain bikes.

This afternoon, to make up for a week of bad legs, I had set my mind on attempting to crush my Strava PRs. The KOMs are totally beyond me, but the plan was to hunker down, suffer, and get some power on.

But the afternoon was just so nice. This late in the year, the air is cool, and the light, golden and pretty, filters through the leaves of all these old acacias and tamarind trees lined up along the streets. While I was trying to perfect my pedal stroke on a long downhill, I saw a religious procession and stopped to instagram this unfamiliar ritual of people bearing banners and statues, lighting candles at small altars set up by the househelp on the driveway of mansions.  While I was time trialing across a nice flat portion of the route, I noticed that I was casting a long shadow, and decided to stop and instagram that shit too. Families were out on whatever bike they kept in their garages for days like these. And a pretty, leggy, European girl in a nice, short outfit - thank you, tropical climate - was on her dutch commuter. Soon, I was off my bike, pretending to fiddle with my drivetrain, having a sip of water, but actually people-watching. Strava PRs be damned.

Eventually, I got back on, found some strength in my legs and tested them on a couple of quick laps. Nothing that broke personal records, but enough to think that, maybe next Sunday, I could.

*True story. I was going counter-clockwise on the 4.5km loop when, coming towards me was this middle-aged dude on a beautiful custom Ti Baum. He says hi, I say hi back and like any jerk on a bike, I surreptitiously check out his bike, saw what it was, and decided to chase him down and talk to him about it. Of course I couldn’t catch up and decided to turn around, go on my route, knowing for sure I’d run into him. True enough, a few minutes later, he’s coming down towards me again, I yell, NICE BAUM!, he yells back THANKS!, quickly turns around and chases me down easily. After introductions, we talk shop about custom bikes, bike fits and his beautiful Lightweight Wheels. A real nice guy. Later on, we peel away on our own routes, I let him and his Land Cruiser full of security men pass me first, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that this nice Baum dude I was talking to is a controversial congressman, son of a senator, who is planning to run for a Senate in the coming elections. Bikes make strange bikefellows.

My work in Dwell Asia, September/October issue.

My photographs of the Lee residence came out in Dwell Asia's September/October issue. Here are some tear sheets. Hope you like them and buy the issue :) Article by my friend, Chinggay Labrador.

For a couple of months now, I've been planning to ride up Mt. Palay Palay. On paper, it's easy. It's one long roll down from Dasmarinas, Cavite to the coastal town of Ternate. From there, it's about a ten kilometer climb to the peak, with 300 or so meters of elevation.

That's a sixty kilometer ride one way from Daang Hari and I never make it. I don't even get to within thirty kilometers of the Ternate. Either the heat gets to me, or I feel suddenly anxious biking alone. It's fcking mental, I know.

But when I turn around and get back to Daang Hari, there's this short but steep ramp that always used to push me to the granny. Nowadays, I big ring that sucker (to blow up on the top, gasping for sweet oxygen).

I've been biking for a year now, I wish I'd been biking sooner.

My good friend, Marie Jamora, gave up food, religion, and sex to make her first feature length film, Ang Nawawala (What Isn’t There).

Watch out for it during this year’s Cinamalaya film festival.

Visit the film’s neat website www.angnawawala.com.

Thanks kid.

I had an awesome day and it started out badly.

First off, I had to get up at 3:50AM to make the 5AM ride out. I swear by all that is holy, every time I have to wake up that early, I allot around twenty minutes just convincing myself to actually get up, stop being miserable, and get on the bike.

Second, I had already met up with the group and we were riding out to pick up our buddies at different places en route to the highway, when I realized I had forgotten to wear, or even bring, my gloves. Not great when you're about to go on a 100++ kilometer ride

Third, I flatted twice. The rear wheel first, and an hour later the front wheel. I was so flustered fixing the rear wheel, I installed the tire with the threads on backwards. With only about sixty kilometers to go.

But right now, at the end of this day, I look back and feel euphoria. It's the endorphins for sure, but there's a high to be gotten from just spending a day on the bike with good people.

I love these guys I bike with. And I don't even know them all that well. I'm only starting to know what they do for a living or who they're married to. I don't even have all their mobile numbers. It's all Facebook now. I met them late last year on a invite of a friend, and all the rides I've been on with them have just been body-crushing, soul-lifting adventures. We've biked from Manila to the beach in Nasugbu, and all around the Laguna Bay area. We've gone up around the mountains of Rizal. The rides are hard but the pace is friendly. They're designed around food and beer (while I meekly sip my fruit juice). There's tons of salty banter and everybody emits a happy, can-do vibe. I suspect some of the guys in this group are former hard-core racers, but we have no know-it-alls, and nobody is ever, ever dropped.
 
On today's ride, the heat was punishing, and somewhere towards the end I crumbled liked a stale biscuit, and had to slow-pedal my way back into existence. We finally made it to Clark Air Base and hung out around the the "Air Force Museum," which is sort of an open-air graveyard for old fighter jets.

I lay down on the ground and under a tree, amused that this is me getting all outdoorsy. This was a couple of hours before the ordeal of finding a bus to take us and our bikes back to the city (it was so crowded, the 115 km night ride back to the city was seriously considered, but they'd been drinking by then).

On the grass and in that cool shade, I thought to myself, the gloves didn't matter, sleep could be had later, the wheels held up, I'm glad these guys have my back, and it was truly a good day.