The iPhone Duo Is Here and My Wallet Folded Before the Phone Did

After years of rumors, Apple finally unveiled the iPhone Duo, its first foldable smartphone, at a special event on September 9. The device unfolds from a 5.4-inch outer display into a 7.6-inch inner screen, making it part smartphone and part compact tablet. It features a redesigned hinge that Apple believes would make the display crease less noticeable. 

apple.com/ph

I got interested in it because of the size of its unfolded screen. At 7.6 inches, it is only slightly smaller than the 8.3-inch iPad mini, but larger than a typical Kindle, which I often use for reading. In other words, the iPhone Duo is not only a folding phone but also a small tablet I could fit in my pocket. 

It is another thingamajig from Apple that I would want to lay my hands on.  But then, I learned about the price. I started doing calculations in my head.

At the Apple Store Philippines, the iPhone Duo starts at P159,990 for the 256 GB model and goes up to P175,990 for the 512GB variant. Don’t ask me about the 1 and 2 TB iterations because I am not the target market for those.  I can only imagine the retail price with local taxes and retailer markups included.

I started calculating and thinking about all the other things I could buy with that amount of money. Several pairs of running shoes, weeks or even months of groceries, a new MacBook, or even a domestic vacation (especially after the government announced a three-day holiday in November). I could even buy an iPhone and an iPad separately, or a Kindle Colorsoft, if I wanted to. Someone told me that I could buy a new motorcycle with that money.  It’s funny that  I'm not comparing the iPhone Duo with other smartphones, but instead comparing it with other items I could buy for its price.  Realizing what I can get at this price point, I consider it a luxury item.

I know new technology is expensive: it has to go through research and testing, may require the creation of new parts, and more before it even goes into production. Add to that the ongoing AI-driven crisis, which is making parts such as memory so expensive.  So maybe this first version of a foldable iPhone was never meant to be a mass-market device, but more aimed at early adopters and tech enthusiasts who want the latest and most advanced gadget available and have the resources to boot.

apple.com/ph

I am also interested in how it compares with existing foldable phones. Brands like Samsung have spent years refining their similar products, with premium foldables in the Philippines typically selling for around P90,000 to P120,000 depending on the model and configuration. By comparison, the iPhone Duo appears to be positioning itself at the top of the foldable market, both in terms of branding and price. 

You are probably asking if I would love to try one.  Of course. I would be lying if I said no.

But would I buy one once it's available? My wallet would protest.  Maybe a few years from now, when foldable phones become as common as today's smartphones and affordable. For now, I will admire it from a safe distance and keep my cash and credit card securely in my wallet. 

apple.com/ph

Images downloaded from apple.com/ph. No copyright infringement intended.

The Nine Lives of a Bookshop Cat is Not an Ordinary Cats and Books Story

I just finished reading this charming book, The Nine Lives of a Bookshop Cat by Kentaro Utsugi.  This title has been popping up in my Facebook cat groups, and some members recommended it as a must-read for people like me who love both cats and books.  However, don't be misled by the title into thinking this is a cozy read, because deep down, it is a story of loneliness, resilience, second chances, survival, and yes, the complicated relationship between humans and cats.  Told from a cat's point of view, the novel blends fantasy and history; it pulled me in so much that I finished it in a day.

The story follows Kinnosuke, a grumpy black cat who, at the start of the novel, is already on his ninth life.  He is still a kitten, yet after eight previous lives, he has become so cynical and distrustful of people that he doesn't want anything to do with them.  When his mother and siblings left one day to check a house where they found food and never returned, he instantly assumed that they have become pets.  He set out for town by himself, ending up in a busy area where people ignored him as they went about their business.  Wandering off to find a quieter place, he came upon the mysterious Hokuto-do (Big Dipper) Bookshop, run by a woman named Erika Kitahoshi.

Initially apprehensive about going to the shop, he stayed away from the shop and its occupants.  Aside from Kitahoshi, the shop also houses four cats who urge him to stop being stubborn and come inside because it is his destiny.  However, Kinnosuke also regarded them with disdain for being pets, which he considered the lowest a cat could go.  Eventually, his need to survive won, and he ventured into the shop where everyone called him Kuro, or black, because he wouldn't tell them his true name.

Once inside, Kinnosuke realized how weird the bookshop actually was.  Erika, whom the other cats call the witch, could actually talk to cats: not the one-way talk we usually do with our kitty, but she could have a conversation with them and understand what they were thinking and saying.  Then there were the books that the shop never seemed to run out of, even when there were no deliveries.  The oldest cat in the group, Lulu, explains everything later while doing the shop inventory on her hind legs and clutching a pen with her paw. 

It is also here in the bookshop that Kinnosuke would open up to us readers about his past lives, which he spent in various crucial moments of Japan's history.  Here he explains why he finds it difficult to attach emotionally to other people, including Erika, except for the writer whom he lived with in his third life.  By the way, he learns that all the other cats in the shop once lived with authors, and the annex of the book shows that these were Japanese literary greats.  

Later, he meets a young girl who aspires to be a writer, and when she falls into unfortunate circumstances, Kuro has to overcome his cynicism to help her. It's also here that he finds out about the real story of the bookshop and Erika and restores his faith in humanity.

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What surprised me about this book is its emotional depth. It's not a simple, feel-good, whimsical story of a cat in a bookshop as its title suggests.  Instead, it explores complex emotions of distrust and love, of resilience in adversity, compassion, life, and death.  Kinnosuke is such a complicated main character that his narrative becomes reflective and almost meditative.  Couple that with Utsugi's almost soothing and easy-to-follow writing style, and you find yourself completely drawn to the story.  

A word of warning, though.   The story tackles some aspects of animal life and suffering that pet lovers would find difficult and heartbreaking to read.  As a cat parent, I felt a lump in my throat each time the main character loses his life.  They bring back memories of the cats I lost in the past.

In the end, this is not just a story about books and cats, but also compassion and how important it is to give everyone, animal or human, a second chance.  This may be why I, along with the other members of our cat group, found it worth reading. 

The Nine Lives of a Bookshop Cat

Kentaro Utsugi

Sylvia Gallagher  (Translator)

Kindle Edition,  187 pages

A Hazy Start to September: Transboundary Haze Reaches the Philippines

 Many of us in Metro Manila woke up on the first day of September to a thick haze hanging over the city, blurring the skyline and obscuring buildings that we normally see even from afar. At first glance, it looked like the typical pollution that plagues the city or, since we had experienced continuous rains before it happened, lingering rain clouds. But we later learned that it was haze that actually traveled hundreds of kilometers, originating from burning forest and peatland fires in Indonesia and carried to the Philippines by the southwest monsoon, or what we call the habagat.

We in Metro Manila were not alone. Social media was full of posts saying the haze also affected parts of Central Luzon, CALABARZON, MIMAROPA, and the Visayas.   Authorities warned us to limit outdoor activities and wear face masks when going outside because of the worsening air quality. I put on a face mask when I left the house for the office, and seeing other people in the streets wearing face masks reminded me of the pandemic six years ago. Some local governments across the country also suspended classes to protect the children from Metro Manila's acutely unhealthy air.

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Unsurprisingly, the Philippines was not the only one affected. Our fellow Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN) member countries Malaysia and Singapore also experienced haze and poor air quality from the Indonesian fires. They were even the ones that bore the brunt of the current transboundary haze because of their proximity to the fire-affected areas. Their air quality reached hazardous levels, disrupting daily life, schools, work schedules, and transportation. 

Transboundary haze from Indonesian fires is not new to the region. Southeast Asia experienced major haze crises in the last three decades. I even remember when an edition of the Southeast Asian Games in Singapore was plagued by haze, making some officials worry about their athletes' health. But for me, what made this episode remarkable was that the Philippines, which, as far as I can remember, had largely been unaffected by past events, found itself directly impacted.

I know the previous incidents led the ASEAN leaders to adopt the Agreement on Transboundary Haze Pollution, where member states agree to work together to monitor fires, share information, and help prevent future haze episodes. I am now watching how ASEAN responds to this latest incident under the Philippines' chairmanship. It would be interesting, given that ASEAN's principle of non-intervention often leads to inaction.

What I find even more unsettling is that this was not a natural disaster. News reports linked the ongoing forest and peatland fires in Indonesia to land-clearing activities for corporate agriculture. Unlike typhoons or earthquakes, these incidents are often preventable. Some reports also indicated that parts of Indonesia are experiencing a long dry spell, contributing to fires spreading in areas not meant to burn. It is quite frustrating to know that actions taken hundreds of kilometers away could make us here in Metro Manila worry about the air we breathe to the point that we need to wear masks and limit our outdoor time. 

Thankfully, it started to rain again yesterday. The environment office hopes the continuous rain helps wash floating smoke particles out of the atmosphere and improve air quality in Metro Manila and other affected areas. Just this morning, the air quality index in the Metro was considered good, meaning air quality was safe for normal outdoor activities, even for those with respiratory sensitivities. However, people sensitive to air pollution still need to take precautions when going outside.  Unfortunately, air quality in the Southern parts of the country, like Mindanao, remains acutely unhealthy.

The haze reminded me how vulnerable we are to the effects of our neglect of the environment and nature. It also showed how the air we breathe connects us, and how we need to do our part to protect it.