Batuan, Bohol? Where is that?

i remember going home to my town, batuan, a year ago. i was commuting. when the bus passed by the municipal hall, the market place, the houses, i noticed that nothing much has changed. it was still the town it was when i left the place. nothing much to remember it with except one: the shiphaus. as the name suggests, it is a house designed like a ship... which is funny and incongruous because batuan is located at the central part of bohol... an idiosyncrasy of the owner who's in love with the ocean.. or ship or both. his efforts paid-off though. many locals and foreigners visit the place and has become a venue for meetings and wedding receptions. so thanks, shiphaus, you just become the landmark of this town.

other than that, batuan is snoring. i even have a song for this sleepy town:

o, sleepy town of bah-two-one,
How still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless state
While other stars go by
And in thy dark streets glooms
No everlasting light
The sighs and fears of all the years
Are there in thee tonight 

i know i'm being sarcastic but to live in a place like this, one is either sarcastic or apathetic. As i see it, the latter type of batuananons constitute a huge percentage of its residents. Sounds sad and hopeless, doesn't it? 

But who's to blame? Everybody! Voters who chose the wrong guys upstairs; elected officials who do nothing but sit and stare; buyers who never question overpricing and sellers who have no sympathy for the consumers ever. 

and nobody here (well, almost) knows what a chemtrail is! they should, you know. afterall, we do have chemtrails up in the sky almost everyday. i have seen airplanes leaving chemtrails a few times.. that's when they start earlier than their schedule. often, i see these ludicrous looking "clouds" early in the morning so they probably spray their poison at night. 

and yet, i have nothing but respect for some of my fellow batuananons who struggle everyday to feed their families, provide for their children's education and go to sleep at night without foreboding. they wake up early in the morning, make and eat breafast, feed their carabaos, cows, chicken, pigs, dogs,cats and then go to work as hired help or to their farms... a daily routine which i find boring and yet fascinating. boring in the sense that they've been doing the same thing all their life; and fascinating, because of their remarkable resilience and endurance. this might not be the case for all the batuananons, but for the most part, it is. so, to these boring and fascinating group of batuananons, you have my greatest respect and admiration! may the winds of good harvest blow towards your direction!

"so God made a farmer."

MY VERY FIRST HYDROPONICALLY GROWN VEGGIES

This is just one seedling of the leafy vegetables (pechay) that I've tried growing hydroponically in my garden using the SNAP solution that Dr. Primitivo Santos of UPLB (University of the Philippines-Los Banos in Laguna) formulated. I used a soil-less medium to hold the seedlings inside  8 oz. styro cups, filling them just about 1/3, enough to hold the seedlings upright.

These are the SNAP (A & B) solutions that I used. For every 10 liters of water, first I poured 25 ml of SNAP A into the water and stirred the mixture. Next, I poured the other  25 ml of SNAP B, again stirring to mix it well with the water.

I use a 3/4 inch thick styrofoam sheet  to cover the container that holds the SNAP mixture and at the same, holds the cups. Holes were made by using a tin can (of evaporated milk, big) that I cut in the middle using a heavy duty scissors. Once cut, the edge will be sharp enough to cut through the sheet by putting a little pressure on it and then slowly turning it around, making sure it stays in place for a clean cut.

Three weeks after, my pechay (above) and mustard greens (below) were growing so fast. I checked the nutrient solution by slowly (!) lifting the cover. More than half of the solution was gone. By this time, the white roots covered the floor of the plastic container that lifting a plant individually would surely damage the roots. Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway: never lift the styrocups! LOL!

Growing veggies hydroponically, in some ways,  is just like growing them in the traditional way. The plants still need sunlight. So where to locate them is an important factor to consider. And, unless you have a screened housing, you still have to visit them early in the morning for possible pest infestation. 

Other than that, everything else is a breeze. No watering, no weeding, and almost always, no spraying (pesticide or foliar fertilizer) 

One more thing to consider: rain water will dilute the nutrient solution and we don't want that.And by the way, SNAP is an acronym for Simple Nutrient Addition Program that Dr. Primitivo Jose Santos coined for the hydroponic system that doesn't need the use of electricity.

P.S.

I can't upload a picture of the veggies in their 4th week. Too excited, I forgot to take the picture before I harvested them!

How I pulverize hard clumps of soil in my garden

I usually get hard clumps of soil when digging a patch in my garden that is often water-logged during rainy season. I know that it's a bad idea to work on the soil when it's still wet but waiting for it to dry up is another story.  I just cannot wait that long, so, using my spading fork, I dig in.  So how do I pulverize the hard clumps? Here's how it's done:

1. After I'm through with my digging, I'll wait for the hard clumps of soil to dry up.   Usually, it takes three to five days.   When totally dry, the clumps this time become rock hard.
2. Late in the afternoon, I'll soak the rock hard clumps using a garden hose to field capacity. I make sure that they become really wet all the way down. This will soften the hard clumps.
3. Next day, preferably in the morning, I'll soak the clumps again and this time, as the water hits the clumps, I watch them break up. Works everytime.

The joy of gardening

When I decided to quit my daytime job one month and 16 days ago, I already knew what next I was going to do, and that is gardening. Of course I was aware that my stamina isn't how it was years ago but I was so sure of it. I love everything about gardening... yes, even the hardest part of it like cleaning, weeding and making of plots. In fact, I draw my strength from it 'cause after the day is done, I look at the finished task and feel satisfied of what I have just accomplished. Then after I gather all the gardening tools and take them inside the nipa hut, I'll take one last look at my garden,  which by this time, will catch the color of sunset.

I can't really explain this joy I feel ... must have something to do with my bloodline or perhaps with my fascination for plants, watching them sprout, grow first true leaves and finally set fruits... And what could be more joyful than the first taste of the harvest? Of course, there are things more joyful than this , but there is nothing quite like it.

                     
 photo taken from: http://blog.lib.umn.edu/efans/master-gardener/

Bohol tarsiers in captivity

TARSIER   genus:  Tarsius; phylum:  Chordata; order:  Primates; species:  T. syrichta 


Above mentioned facts, I got from Wikipedia.  Illustration below, mine.

My interest in tarsiers is not really, by any means, scientific and if someone asks what genus do tarsiers belong, I would have no idea. I only know that these cute and shy animals are a great tourist attraction and because of that, I think their existence is nearing end.  Here's why:

A scenario:

A tourist bus with 10 to 15 Koreans take the Tagbilaran - Baclayon - Loboc - Carmen - Danao route. I mentioned these towns as they are where the bus drivers usually make stops. Baclayon is where you will see the oldest church of the Phillipines. Loboc is where the floating restaurants are. Carmen, the Chocolate Hills and Danao, the ziplines, the plunge, caves, wall and root climbing. You might ask why I am telling you this.  What does the Maumag (local name of tarsier) got to do with it? Well, each of these stops have tarsiers IN CAGES.

Tourists are sightseeing during the day and tarsiers which are nocturnal, sleep at daytime.  So? Well, tourists don't want to see tarsiers sleeping behind the leaves. Afterall, they are paying for it...although you'll see signs on a box that says Donation for the upkeep of those hapless tarsiers, still they are indeed paying.  It's been told that a donation box could easily earn ten thousand pesos a day during peak season.  That's more than the monthly salary of a rank and file employee. So what happens is that, to make the tourist happy and not to feel short-changed, the operator wakes them up. The tarsiers have get out from their sleeping quarters (behind the leaves) so tourists can marvel on their cuteness and take photos. Some would poke them with long sticks or shake the branches hard if they refuse to come out from their hiding places.

Sure, they are allowed to get back to sleep after the tourists are gone but not for long.  The last time I was in one of those places, there was a long queue of tourist buses so I doubt it if those hapless tarsiers did get any sleep at all.

Being nocturnals, this predicament these tarsiers are in,  greatly disorients them and without sleep, they will surely get sick and eventually die. And if they do, the operators buy another set.  Set? Yes, set.  Tarsiers don't live long if caged alone. So with this trend of buying tarsiers>burying dead tarsiers >buying a set again (I am sure of this) >burying and so on, there's no doubt about it:  extinction is inevitable. 

There's a man named Carlito "Lito" Pizarras of Philippine Tarsier Foundation, aka, the Tarsier Man who is very active in taking care of these hapless creatures. He had been ridiculed as a fool for tarsier but now has become a national figure.  Nobody knows about tarsiers more than Lito. 

I met Lito 2 years ago at the foundation. Not that he knows me back but to someone who loves tarsiers knows a thing or two about him.  A soft-spoken man.  I saw him whisper softly to one of his tarsiers and this tarsier looked at him and snuggled at his neck. It was a very touching moment. No wonder his wards (tarsiers) love him so.  But what can a single dedicated man do to stop this massive abuse on tarsiers?

In desparation, I once uttered this question after a discussion about the plight of the tarsiers. Maybe we can clone him, one of my friends jokingly answered.



  

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What not to do when planting broccoli

Just this morning, I read a book about gardening. The centennial edition of Yate's Garden Guide, although very informative, some of its guidelines just won't work (for me) being an Australian book made for Australian climate. And I'm here in Bohol, Philippines. Still, I find myself reading parts and pages and looking at photos of broccoli, big ripe tomatoes, crisp-looking lettuce and of  beautiful flower and herb gardens. And I do it again and again for inspiration that at times I forget that I'm here in the tropics. One time, I asked a friend working in Canada to send me (as a gift!) a pack of broccoli seeds. She sent me two! At the back of the packets, it says early dwarf variety, big and compact bright green heads. I sowed one packet. They sprouted but just a few made it. But there was enough for the 18- meter plot.

They grew just like the previous broccoli I had, only taller and slimmer. So much for a dwarf variety! And instead of forming into heads, the flowerets spread out. For a moment, I was wondering what went wrong and whether or not it tastes different. Not really different as I found out later. I mean, you'd know what you're eating is broccoli.

So I didn’t ask my friend for broccoli seeds again or any other seed for that matter. And the other packet of Canadian broccoli? I didn't throw it either. The picture on it looks too gorgeous. I just let it peacefully expire inside a plastic box. At least I learned a very important lesson: never assume that the big difference in climate, soil and temperature between here and places like Canada won't matter because it does. And it could cost you a planting season.

boracay

boracay

every - well, almost every fun loving beach bum who loves to party have heard of this beautiful island boracay. local tourists flock to this island during summer. foreign tourists too. celebrities come here to unwind, some come incognito and others come to be seen and recognized. and they all come to enjoy the clear blue sea, the long stretch of fine white sand, the hundreds of coconut trees, the water sports, the glorious sunrises, the beautiful sunsets, the nightlife - both tranquil and wild.

boracay

a phographer's dream island

photo taken from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Boracay_White_Beach.jpg

haiku lanes:






written on the beach 
reminder of a visit
soon...:


 written on the beach
 reminder of a visit
 soon washed away.

B-1

To name a dog B-1 may sound categorical and impersonal,

 but he likes that name and responds to it.. even to the softest whisper of a call.

 He'll look at you with those bluish eyes -questioning or pleading. 

 Either way, it never fails to get your attention and affection -those eyes that hid behind hairy tangles of white and lightest brown, the color of caramel that so suits him.

His dark brown drooping ears would raise up as he anxiously wait for his food.

 And sure enough, he gets it.

But a few days ago, we lost B-1. 

How? That's a question we cannot give an answer to.

 Perhaps B-1 managed to get out of the gate unnoticed and somebody just picked him up.

 I just hope that whoever took him takes good care of our beloved pet dog.

green thumb

One afternoon a few months ago, I was harvesting okra from my garden. My two elder sisters were there at that time and I suggested that stir-fried veggies with okra sounds delicious. I gave a handful to Nang Lita to take home. She took it and was about to pass it to Tita (my other sister) so she could put it in the basket when they saw a brown hairy worm inching along on one of them (okra) and they screamed! Both of them. And guess what happened to the okras. Well, you guessed it right. They flew! and I was laughing so hard, my tummy hurt.

I wasn't born unafraid of those crawly things. I mean, who loves them? But as one becomes a green thumb, worms aren't scary anymore.

Let's talk about true-blue green thumbs. My paternal grandfather was a great farmer. My father loved his garden so much, he went there after office hours, whenever possible. My uncle, a more seasoned farmer, never ran out of root crops and corn and rice. I remember having hearty snack of sweet potatoes and thick hot chocolate every afternoon on their kitchen table - well, almost. Sometimes, there's boiled or fried ripe bananas. You may say, farming or gardening runs in the family, which is true in my uncle's. But I don't see anyone else following my father's passion in his. There's only me and I knew it then when one morning many years ago, my auntie was harvesting peanuts and I offered to help, not really because I was a good hardworking girl who loves to lend a hand but mainly because the thrill of pulling up the plants and counting as each gorgeous peanut is plucked from the roots, was so exciting! When we finished harvesting, my aunt gave me a bucketful. Almost immediately, I run home and cooked my peanuts (boiled unshelled and salted). The next day, I fried the beans. And the next and next. I still had two cups of raw peanuts left and I decided to sow them. I asked my father if I could have a plot for my peanuts in his garden. Of course, he said yes. After a couple of months, their yellow tiny flowers dotted the lower portion of the plants. Then it was time to harvest. I was thrilled to see peanuts dangling from the roots as I pulled each plant up. The biggest and most vigorous had 62! And to think I only sowed two beans per hill, my calculating mind went to work: 62 peanuts / 2 = 31 peanuts! Imagine, each peanut is multiplied 31 times! I showed Papa my calculation and he said, that's wrong. It couldn't be wrong! I insisted. No, he said. Look, each of this peanut has two beans inside, so 1 bean is 1/2 of 1 peanut. So, your calculation should be: 1/2 peanut x 2 beans = 1 peanut and 1 peanut x 62 equals? Sixty-two! I answered. I must have looked so ridiculously animated that he laughed. Although proven wrong, it even excited me more. And I said to Papa, that's so much more than what you'll earn from bank deposit. He just smiled at me. Of course, a kid aged 10 didn't know about cost of labor and materials. What she just saw was the gross and the bliss of tasting the fruit of her labor. That was then the start of my love affair with gardening.

There seems to be no limit to a gardener's capacity

to forget where they've left something

-Des Kennedy, THIS RAMBLING AFFAIR

1998, Sasquatch Books, Seattle

The sun appeared above the wooded hill early and bright, with a promise of a beautiful day ahead which it didn't keep. I'd happily welcome yet another sunny day because it would mean uninterrupted work in the garden, but the weather turned nasty in the early afternoon. As the gray clouds turned dark, I hastily gathered all the garden tools except one: the pitchfork. I was sure I left it under a tree - but which tree? I ran from tree to tree with no luck. No pitchfork.

The rain started with no introduction. No drizzle...just pure downpour of steady and heavy raindrops. I hurried to the nipa nut and almost fell down. My foot tripped on something hard and steely. And there, on the floor, was my pitchfork. Soaking wet, and angry, I kicked hard at it, and missed, I swear I could almost hear it laughing. My mood that afternoon turned dark as the sky.

I don't usually get angry just because I can't remember where i left something. The word annoyed is more appropriate. Annoyed because instead of using the time for weeding or spading, I'll be roaming around the garden looking for it. While at it, the idea of painting the handles of all my garden tools yellow comes back to mind, but soon forgotten until the next time it happens again.

This bout of short term amnesia must be epidemic. My neighbor, also a gardener like me, often asked if I have borrowed this or that tool. Most of the time I can't even be sure if I did so I'll be looking around the house. If I can't find it, it doesn't mean I didn't. Maybe I just don't remember where I left it. If he can't remember who borrowed it or in fact, nobody did and that he just don't remember where he left it, then definitely I'm not alone suffering from short term amnesia.

I haven't really thought about this dilemma until now. Why do gardeners often forget where they left their tools? What causes them to forget? I was attending a seminar on organic farming with some friends when I asked those questions. A friend has this opinion: A gardener has too many plans for his garden and too little time to do them all. Agreed! Another friend said: A garden tool, especially an old rake, looks like a bean pole and has the color of soil so that it is camouflaged with the surroundings. And I said maybe because our focus is not on the tools. They're on what they're used for and that is, to grow beautiful and heathy plants, to which my neighbor countered: Come on! Why don't you just accept the fact that forgetting is one thing old people are good at. And I said: Oh, yes! That, too.

gift of friendship

Here we are, living in a world so different from the one we used know a few decades ago. What used to be the in thing then is now history. Remember those days when communicating meant writing letters on paper, and that you have to buy postage stamps at the post office to send them? Just thinking about that tedious process makes you winch. Now, mails, or rather emails are sent as easy and as fast as your internet connection can muster in a matter of seconds. Paying monthly bills used to be as tedious too. Imagine those days when you have to be physically there, falling in line with all those people in a long snaking queue. But now, thanks to internet technology, the farthest trip is from where you are to the computer table. It's quite amazing actually, that people have the capacity to adapt and embrace technology as a natural course of modern life.

I could write a few more examples of changes that we all are aware of, but that would be deviating from my main topic. The reason why I chose to write about changes in the first paragraph is to compare them to things that don't.

Love, in all forms, and directed to different people in our lives, didn't and won't change. Though technology has changed how we communicate with each other, basically, it's just the same old Love – that same feeling of warmth and affection that our grandparents and great-grandparents had given and received. Finding love still brings happiness and losing it still brings sadness as it did before.

To have a friend to love, confide and enjoy a moment with, a need which is as old as the sea, won't change. A friend is a gift you give to yourself – the one that needs no elaborate wrapping ... just in its true form and color. Once you acknowledge that gift, you move, not to a necessarily higher level but rather to a unique one. You'll learn to appreciate yourself more - in your capacity to be thoughtful, kind and generous. You will also discover the ability to make people smile or laugh at jokes and at life with all its complexities and random absurdness. And more importantly, that gift makes you want to be a better person.

FRIENDS

Last two weeks was hectic. We were expecting some guests and as usual, we were so busy doing the preparation – general cleaning, planning the recipes and all those things that go with it. My sisters especially - they woke up early and slept late. I was wondering why all the fuss for a two-day fiesta celebration? I mean, it happens every year! Nothing new about it. But this year's celebration was different, I was told. Linda and Walding are coming. In case you're wondering, they're my sisters' best friends. They went to the same school, lived in the same apartment, ate the same food, et cetera. The last year (or was it last two?) I was in highschool then and got to know them for quite a while. Being the youngest of the roommates, I was not on their level of thinking and being of different “breed” (not really the right word,I know but I'd change that if the right word comes along), I stayed at the background and whether or not they knew it, they were my idols. You see, unlike the other occupants of the adjacent apartment who often times had differences and tiffs, they seemed to have no problems at all, living together. I remember them as friends in the real sense of the word.

I confess that I was a bit apprehensive. You see, there were times when somebody I was working with or was at one time or another my roommate or classmate, would just greet me and call me by name and I had no idea who he or she is. Or if I do remember because we were friends once upon a time, there's just nothing to talk about anymore. So there was this fear that I might not be a good company. While I could do some weather-talk, it's just not enough to hold a conversation. Small talk is boring and embarrassing.

As it turned out, Linda and Walding haven't changed that much. Sure they've grown into matured and fine ladies, and well- traveled at that, but otherwise, they are just being as they were as I knew them 45 years ago: fun to be with.

And we didn't even talk about the weather.

SAVED BY THE BELL

When i was still studying at PSID in Makati, there were a lot design projects to do. I remember hurrying to the classroom, carrying a T-square on one hand and on the other, a bag full of triangles, pencils, watercolors, oil pastels,  brushes and a rigid envelop containing all of the design plates that our instructors so love to assign us. Weeknights were spent making perspective drawings from floor plans complete with color renderings. It took a lot of effort to make just one plate. Imagine making three in one week! It's ironic though that I still think it was the best episode of my life.I enjoyed the challenge of making the plates, especially on subjects like Color Rendering, Freehand and Perspective Drawings. Architectural and Art History was quite boring but there was one subject that really made me anxious: Interior Design I. Our instructor was very critical. His verbal assaults can be discouraging. My first plate was, according to him, capricious. I didn't know exactly what he meant, but by the way he said it, I knew it was not a compliment. When he returned our plates, I stared at the red marking he mercilessly scribbled on my plate: 2.5 - barely passing the prelim. It was the only subject that marred my report card. I hated him that moment.

During the finals, he made us design our own ideal private spaces. A place of well-being, he called it. Most of my classmates had such grandiose ideas but I opted to be honest about it. So I designed my ideal bedroom. We were required to explain in writing why we think it is our place of well-being. Then came the time to submit our plates. My anxiety grew as our instructor mounted our plates on the wall. There were so many drawings, good and bad, of log cabins, mountain resorts and beach houses. Mine looked pathetic compared to the others. A bedroom! To make matters worse, he called each one to read what he wrote while our instructor holds the student's plate for us to see. We had a few laughs but most of the time we were silent. When it was my time to stand in front and read, the bell rang, My friend Ellie whispered to me: You're saved by the bell. I smiled at her and said: So are you. And we both laughed. Her plate was mounted next to mine.

The following week, we had our grades. Most of my final grades from other subjects were either one point less or more than midterm, but to my surprise and relief, my Interior Design I grade of 2.5 became 1.4 -  quite a big leap, if I might add. My only regret though is that of not knowing why. If I wasn't saved by the bell, would I have listened to a compliment instead?

THE TROUBLE WITH GARDENING

There's just too much work to do in the garden, and thinking about it makes you want to quit sometimes. But then, little by little, a 20 meter plot is almost ready for planting after many days of hard work. There's so much investment there: time, labor (yours, and a hired hand) and yes, love! and you just can't leave it bare.

While this may sound like you're making a mountain out of a molehill to those who haven't tried it, I'm sure many gardeners would agree. I mean, only gardeners experience the frustrations in this line of work - frustrations like weeds, pests, too much rain ( or lack of it), sweltering heat and just like what we had a few days ago, stormy weather. And in your frustrated mind you asked questions like why do weeds grow faster than your pampered broccoli? Why of all the plants and weeds and grass and shrubs that grow in abundance nearby, pests choose to nibble on young leaves of your squash? Why can't a weather be good all the time? Why can't it stop raining? Why do typhoons come when the corn is in its most vulnerable?

But then, like everything else, these problems end, one by one. The weather becomes favorable, the pests find the maturing leaves too hard and brittle for their liking and weeds succumbed to constant assault. The compost that you put in your plot just started to take effect and your veggies growing just fine. That's when you find yourself humming a tune while pottering around the garden. You see the first huge yellow flower of squash and to you, it seems like a child's brilliant smile and you smile back! Frustrations? What frustrations? Hah!

The first sign of success perks you up so you made plans last night. Still you can't decide which vegetable to plant next to the bunching onions. Tomatoes? Snap beans? Peanuts? Radish? Melon? A bit of a problem as you can see when you have too many choices. Of course, it won't be too difficult to decide if you didn't buy all those packets of all those seeds!

You wake up earlier nowadays - too early a few times so you impatiently sit on the doorstep, waiting for the sun to show up. Even then, your impatience is rewarded (as if you deserve it). Just before the sun appears above the horizon, the colors of the spectrum tinting the sky greets you. As you walk through a thinning fog and open the garden gate, the waft of dew- laden grass awakens the senses.

The thought of quitting disintegrates.

And that's the other trouble of gardening. You just can't quit.

Island Fever

 

 

The sandbar at Puntod Island of Panglao forms a letter C during low tide.  It's one of my favorite places in Bohol. You can see the Balicasag Island from here.

This is Puntod Island silhouetted against the horizon.  We were about a kilometer away from the island when I took this shot.

The boat we rented during our island hopping.

The day started and ended beautifully...with little mishaps and serendipity along the way. . .

On the way to Panglao Island via Causeway and Tagbilaran Fishing Port route. This tranquil view of  Banat-i Hill and Baclayon coastline is one of the gift nature freely gives to travellers.

Seven months.  That's how long ago since the last time I used this computer. As a blogger, that's a major sin of omission. 

A rather drastic change of lifestyle actually-from a city mouse to town mouse.  Now I'm using spading fork instead of laptop to do a day's work.

My friends' reactions differed.  Some said it was a stupid move to quit my job. That's expected. Heck, I even thought it was indeed stupid when my first musk melon plot suffered from fungi attack due to heavy rains. But you know what? When what you're doing is what you really want to do all along, that's all that matters. In my case, frustrations like fungi attack is nothing compared to the satisfaction of harvesting bumper tomatoes or sweetcorn. Or munching a crispy lettuce leaf straight from your garden! Nothing's quite like it. And that's just the tangible side of things.

So now you know. Posts for sally's musings will be a bit different from now on. I'd probably be babbling about my garden...if I could, I'll post some photos too...

That's all for today.  

SCAMS AND SCHEMES!!

I know you've heard this before but I am saying it anyway:  Earning money online is easy IF you know how to do it.  But if you are a newbie, expect to be discouraged after a few months.  I mean, if you tried signing up on PTC sites like I did, I am sure you earned a little, like 2 to 10 dollars. Some PTC sites pay you two to three times but after that, they just refuse to pay, saying that you have to invest money first before you get paid, as if spending time clicking their ads is not an investment  already. So you rent referrals who are mostly either inactive or just plain lazy to click. And you rented them for a month at $0.22 each.  So what happens is that you are losing instead of earning more because you have rented some lousy referrals.  And before you knew it, it's time for renewal. My advice is,
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