Kota Kinabalu: A Land So Close and Yet So Far

          A week ago, I flew to Kota Kinabalu heading a delegation of eight students with the Science Coordinator on a cultural exchange visit with De La Salle Secondary School that started in 2009. Not knowing what to expect and ever hopeful to gain a very good experience from the trip, I eagerly waited for the delegates to arrive at the airport reading a book.  We were told that we shall be welcomed by Mr. Safri and Mr. Jong but never expected they will be accompanied by a fleet of alumni and students.

         Kota Kinabalu is an urbanized city that belongs to Sabah, the western part of Malaysia.  Formerly known as Jesselton, the name Kota Kinabalu comes from the Dusun words Kota for city or fort and Kinabalu, a compound word that joins Ki meaning to have or exist and Nabalu for spirit of the dead.  The term spirit of the dead, as eerie as it might sound, may no longer be appropriate for the city is bustling and very much alive.

         Having been to Kuala Lumpur on two occasions, it has always been a wonder to me how three ethnicities, Chinese, Malay and Indians, can live peacefully together  only to find out that Kota is populated by even more than a number of different ethnicities other than the three.  These include Bajaus, Kadazan-Dusun, Bruneian Malays, Bumiputras, and Muruts, to name a few.  It is quite a wonder how these people, in spite of their difference in lineage, culture and religion, have learned to live together in peace under one flag and one nation. 

         Kota Kinabalu is a land that is so close and yet so far from home in so many levels – geography, history, culture, and so much more.   In terms of geography, Kota is so near to the Philippines that it will take only a few hours by boat either from Palawan or down south of Mindanao to get to it. About 1 and 45 minutes by plane from Manila to its airport,  Kota Kinabalu is by far the closest to us geographically.  As such, it is no surprise that our ancestors arrived in our land via boats from these shores and Indonesia. This being the case, there are several words shared by both languages albeit some deviations.  Masuk, for example, is the same as the Tagalog word pasok for enter.  Manuk is the same as our manok for chicken, nasi, although such is only true for the Kapampangans, who use the same word for rice.  Bawang, on the other hand is onion to them while it is garlic to us.  Of course, make that bawang putih and it would mean garlic, too.    There are other words which a Fillipino can pick-up as being the same but sometimes could mean another that one can chuckle thinking that our ancestors might have messed the words up thus evolving to come up  with another meaning.

           In terms of history, there exists a parallelism between our two countries. While our country has experienced long periods of colonization, first by the Spaniards, to be followed by the Americans, Kota Kinabalu, once called Jesselton, named after Sir Charles Jesselton, the Vice Chairman of the British North Borneo Company, thereafter forcing the Sultanate of Brunei to cede the land to the British. As is with our country, the British saw revolt and destruction by the Bajaus, then inhabitants of the place. The greatest similarity being that our countries having been both occupied by the Japanese during World War II with both experiencing the wrath and destruction that war brings. What is even more interesting is that said parallelisms starts an even more interesting history between Sabah and the Philippines.

            As was stated earlier, Sabah was once under the Bruneian Empire. The story goes that the Sultan of Brunei gifted the northern part of Sabah to the Sultan of Sulu in 1658, in appreciation for its help in settling a civil war in Brunei, hence, the source of the disputed Sabah claim of the Philippines that lingered till the 70’s until this was abandoned completely under the Marcos regime, after a planned attack backfired into what is now called the Jabidah massacre where Moro soldiers were supposedly being trained to infiltrate the Sabah government but were massacred for reasons we will never know and a part of a sordid history that is best forgotten. 

           On a personal level, coming to Kota Kinabalu seems like I have never left home.  First of all, we share the same climate as it is also located in the tropics.  Secondly, just like in Thailand, Indonesia or any of our Asean neighbors in the Far East, the faces of its inhabitants are so close to home that one does not have that feeling of unease with total strangers having set on its soil for the first time.  Their faces are the same as the ones we see in the streets of Manila or any other province in the country -the same sparkle in their eyes as they greet you with pleasant, grinning faces are the same faces you see in your friendly neighborhood as you step out of your house in Manila.  The same brown skin, albeit the difference in costumes, although this difference is only because they are different in Manila but such is a common site in Mindanao.

            We share the same staple - rice! Naturally, we almost do the same thing with it.  We cook rice the same way, steam or fry it.  Yet, they do more with it. We both eat rice as early as breakfast. While we fry rice and eat it with dried fish or canned sardines with fried or scrambled eggs, their traditional breakfast, nasi lemak, combines rice cooked in coconut milk, boiled eggs, anchovies (dilis) coupled with peanuts and sambal sauce which harmonizes everything together.  Our palettes and taste buds are different in that they use curry and chilis all the time. They also have delicacies which are not meant for the faint of heart.  We have balut and tamilok, they do have butod, which turns out to also be called sago grub or sago worm which is actually the larva of a beetle. I never had the guts to eat it and was amazed that two of my students mustered enough courage to. That made me look like and feel like chicken.

               During our week-long stay, we experienced their culture, enjoyed the sceneries but most of all, felt the warmth and friendly hospitality of our hosts.  Anywhere we went, we were greeted with aplomb that nothing can harm us along the way, even that treacherous trek up and down the hills of Kokol where rubber tapping is being done. We tasted their cuisine and prepared roti. We learned to drink water that was not cooled in the fridge and being told this is healthier, observed how they held classes, saw how the government worked during the Parliament session, learned about the history of DLSSSKK through its archives, gave small speeches about Jose Rizal which they take up and history in general and how this subject is taught in our school. We were taken to Tambunan, a valley some 80 kilometers away from Kota and experienced rural living although we were billeted in a brand new hostel. We saw the fantastic sceneries the land has to offer most especially the view from the mountain and the Mahua falls, though not as majestic as, say Pagsanjan falls or the Maria Cristina, is  as equaly breath taking as well. We were always afraid that we could be in a place where only the traditional toilets were present and feared we could never learn how to use such. To our relief, they always have what is now standard toilets with a bidet to boot.  We were taken to several dinners, both Malay and Chinese ones by our hosts, Mr. Safri, Sir Jong and Sir Adrian and the alumni and students of DLSSSKK who we cannot thank enough.  Or even the gracious Br. Peter, the Principal and Administration and teachers, the President of the PTA and the members of the Board of Trustees.

                 On a more personal level, I enjoyed Kota Kinabalu because of the company I had. I may have gone to Aspen, Colorado or the beaches of Amalfi Coast or Maldives but I would not have enjoyed it as much as I have Kota Kinabalu.  I may have stayed in a five-star hotel or even the Al Burj Khalifa in Dubai but none of its amenities could have matched the Benildus, ancient as it is, simply because I was with my students playing card games and telling benign jokes about anything under the sun with them. They who turned out to be my children for seven days and now my friends forever.  I would not have enjoyed the 7 days as much if it were not Milet who was with me as we ventured this new land.  I could not have enjoyed Kota if I were not seeing it with the glowing eyes of Christine, Bea, Toni, Jemil, Maui, Gerard, Adolf, and Kester.  I will never forget the adventurous Bea and Maui who braved trying everything they put on our plates, the simple but genuine contentment in the eyes of the boys as we practiced our songs which we had to perform or when they had to give short lectures on short notice, the sweet retorts one gets from the ever articulate Toni or that ever dulcet Christine smiles as she willingly gave out snippets of that cute lips that had the boys swooning over her. Or Adolf's and Maui's cute grins that the girls of St. Martin's or Stella Maris could ever forget. And that ever so sweet gesture of the boys to buy the girls their favorite stuff toys, hiding these from them all throughout the shopping spree and over thinking how these can be kept from them until they presented the same in their room. I am so proud of these guys for they delivered more than what was expected of them. They were true ambassadors of their school and I was so fortunate to have witnessed and be part of all this.  Such was the experience I had and I have never been happier coming to an unknown land for the first time - a land that is so close and yet so far from who or what I really am.

           

A Fine City, Singapore

As I sit  at the lobby of a very small hotel here at Lavender Road in Singapore waiting for my wife, two daughters and their aunt from a last minute shopping spree, I reminisce on the good times we've had since our arrival on Sunday, Feb. 9.  To my delight, we landed at Changi airport, one of the finest airports in the world, not in that budget flight airport they had, when I first came here several years ago enroute to Malaysia. I was told by our cab driver that said place is no longer in use.

First one that I got to see were my good friends, Alf and Zharro who is several months pregnant with their second child.  They were with their very cute and adorable baby, Zeetee who took a little time to warm up with me but once got going, really got going! She would call out to me and point at whatever interests her at the time, usually water. To her young mind, every male she encounters is "ninong" and, young as she is, would pronounce it as Noni!  So, she would call out "noni, water!". This would go on and on and when she was already on her feet, she would run ahead with her squeaking sneakers and call out "noni" and made sure I was watching.  She was so cute that everybody in my hotel room would giggle everytime she smiled.

My friends took me to Suntec mall. We made the rounds and made sure I go around the fountain of wealth and had merienda there. They took me next to Marina Bay Sands Hotel and its environs.  After a happy, non-committed stroll of the park, we had dinner at the fastfood chain and they took me back to the Hotel.

The following day, I had a good breakfast of laksa in a nearby hawkers' place. I will be having laksa every breakfast during the rest of the stay.I was with Kuya Rizal who paid for my breakfast.
From there we started our tour. First stop was at Suntec taking a ride at the MRT, the subwy train system, a good four minute ride from our hotel.  From there we took the city tours bus which had already been paid for when we bought tickets to Sentosa. Our first stop was at the  boat rides where one rides a boat tour of about an hour around the city.  From there, we went to Orchard Rd for lunch. Then we went back to Suntec to catch a free ride for Sentosa.  Once we were there, we went ahead to sea aquarium. It may not be as spectacular as the atoll reef experience I had with nitz in hongkong but it is as impressive just the same. When we have consumed everything we could out of the area, we headed back to the bus station and headed down to Bugis for some shopping. Then we went to the nearest MRT station and headed back to Lavender Rd again.

The following day, aftet breakfast, we headed back to Sentosa. We had lunch there at the Malaysian Hawkers Street. I had Biryani of muttons which my companions thought was too hot. it was okay forn me, though. Then we went to Universal studios. we enjoyed the shows, the photo ops with the characters and the rides, particularly the simulatd ride fighting with the autobots! nitz and I enjoyed it too much that we did it again withour friends, Gregor and Leslie. Waterworld show was spectacular as well and while I have seen this already in Thailand, I was still pretty much amused

 By and large, Singapore is a very nice place. Everything is so efficient.  The transportation is as excellent as Canada's and one only has to know the system, which is not really that hard, and one can go to any place without any worrries at all.  The cab we rented on our way to and from the airport is no less than a Mercedes Benz! Now beat that Manila.  The food is nice, although one has to know the amount of heat one can tolerate as they could really be very spicy.  Cheap food can be had at the hawkers which is practically all around and they are very clean.     What  is even more wonderful is the combination of ethnicities that live here in hrmony.  the Chinese, Indians, Malays seem to live together nicely and peacefully that the systems work without any glitches at all. Remarkable indeed.  If I am going to nitpick at all it would be the rat race people seem to live by in order to keep up with the high standard of living.  I was told tht the cleaning, janitorial services are usually reserved for the elderly. This is because they have to continuesly earn their keep.  They could sometimes be a burden to their young ones that they hve to keep on working or nobody could tke cre of them.  There had been bews, as a matter of fact, that some elderly had been bused simply because they had been a nuisance prompting th government to launch commercials about respecting them.  besides that, you seldom see people smile  unlike in Manila, dubbed as where the happiest people on earth live. Really, something has got to give, in my opinion.

A new year, a new beginning

A new beginning.  That has always been what I wanted every start of the year. However, all these years, it seems like nothing much have improved.  No that may be not true at all from the viewpoint of outsiders. If I am to look for changes, there has been a lot but they come unnoticed.  There's the renovation of the house, the new car (well, although not brand new, it is a far much better car than the ones I've been getting), the kids, except for the youngest, are working now.  Really, there are so much to thank for but still, I am not satisfied.  There is this hunger for more personal improvement I have to contend with.

Last year was by far one of the luckiest years for personal growth.  It was last year that I got to travel to the States, first in LA, then a few days after, San Francisco where I also experienced the first hassle at an airport. Next stop was in Ladner, BC in Canada and be reunited with Arlene's daughter, Trudy and her family and visit Arlene's grave before I went to my final destination, Kaslo to be reunited with my niece, Romella Moss.  It was also my first to travel by bus in Canada. A long drive across the Canadian Rockies, all ten hours or so of mountains and rivers from Vancouver to Nelson where I was picked up by Romella and her family, Laurie and Cez.  It was a wonderful trip, full of experiences and getting to know other people.

This was also the year that I managed to publish an anthology book of students' artworks.  It turned out good although the sale wasn't.  For some weird reason or another, I am amazed that not all parents are excited seeing their child's work in print.  What it tells me is that these parents do not appreciate the Arts and probably find it superficial, if not totally a waste of time.  They do not see the importance of the subject and would rather join the mainstream of pounding their children with a lot of Math, Science and English, subjects that most academicians themselves find more important.  Well, if I am to look at the list of prospective buyers, I have had at least 130 orders for the book except that majority of these orders failed to pay when I announced that payment could already be done at the accounting office.  (Brother Dennis wanted the project to pay for itself and decided that it will be pre-sold before going to ptint)  It may be due to the fact that they are just waiting for the actual book before paying.  I will have to show them the book on my return but only after I have distributed all copies that have been paid.  I am still short of about Php56,000.   It's a good thing that Broden bailed me out.

This was also the year that I saw and heard one of my works being sung.  Yes, my first song!  What happened was I was approached by Gladys who asked me to compose a song for Broden's birthday.  I talked to Tess and asked her what she had in mind.  Come vacation time, after several days of imagining the lyrics, the form and content of the composition, I finally sat down on Dec 29 and after a few hours came up with my first draft.  Several more hours of poring over the song, I decided to finalize it.   Yesterday, Dec 5, at around 10:20, I met with her and the chorale and heard the song being practiced.  Well, it came out okay.  Next project, a musicale with Tess.  A very big project and very ambitious but I can make this happen.

I think I have done at least 5 paintings this year.  Three of them are in Canada now.  The other will be on exhibit at the Lasallian Congress at DLSU.  It is to open next week, if I am not mistaken.  

Looking forward to what will happen in 2013. 

The Horrors of Traveling

I was on my way to Vancouver early in the morning of May 13.  My plane was due to leave at 8:30 am and due to my practice of being at the airport two hours before the flight, my host, Milton, husband of long time friend Ophel, had to wake up around 4 so that he could take me to the San Francisco airport.  Now that is a long drive from San Jose where we were.

It was a good thing that I was there at an early time as the queue to the check in counter, which was practically without any staff except for three people, was quite long already.  It turns out that the United Airlines, which I was riding, relies heavily on the electronic check in system and the guys working there are there only to assist passengers.  So, I waited a long time and when it was my turn (actually my first to do that) to check in, I had no problems inputting data.  However, scanning my passport was not an easy task.  It would not fit the scanner because the jacket was larger than the allowed page.  A middle aged African American woman who worked there came to help me and realized too that the passport won't fit.  She thought of getting the passport out of the jacket but in doing so, the entire booklet separated from the jacket! The whole thing tore apart from the cover.  Of course I was dismayed but since that was the first time it happened and it was not me who did it, I never thought of the repercussions of the same.  By this time, the woman was able to scan my passport and advised me to check in my luggage for which I have to pay $25.  I went to the only counter that was collecting the luggages  and showed her my passport.
Immediately, she noticed that the passport was torn and said, "Hey, you cannot travel with a damaged passport!"  Now the repercussion has set in.  It was then that I began to be concerned.  "What can I do?  It fell apart when the lady handled it."  And the woman, in fairness to her, acknowledged the mishap.  But the lady would have none of it and tried to declare something like it was due to the fact that the passport was weak.

"What can I do?" I asked again.  She thought for a bit and then told me to glue it and maybe that would work.  Where in heaven's name does one find a glue at an airport at a little way past 6 am? Frantically, I went to a coffee shop and asked if they happen to have glue.  None!  Who would have a need for glue at a coffee shop, anyway?  I walked and saw two Filipinas who I presume were working at the airport, talking with each other while going out of the toilet.  I approached them and asked if they have what I need.  None!

Then I noticed a young African American man, probably around 20 years old, working at a store which was already opened.  I asked him if he could help me and after explaining the situation to him, he promised to look for some glue after he has finished with his chore at the time.  So, I waited and while waiting tried to look at the items for sale.  And guess what I found.  A super glue!  My eyes widened as hope sprang from the heavens.  "Here, I found some glue! How much is it? I'll pay for it."  I took it from where it was displayed and showed it to him.  Then I pleaded if he could be the one to glue it as I am so much tensed I might ruin it.  He would have none of it perhaps thinking I will have to blame him if something went awry again.

I put some glue on the cover and tried to put them together but they won't attach.  "Hey, it says here super glue,m why wouldn't they join?" I asked the man.  "Well, maybe it's no good for paper," he answered.  Now I am beginning to panic.  Tried it several times more and it wouldn't stick.  Finally, I tried to put a larger quantity, put them together and held them for quite some time.  It worked.

I went back to the check in counter and showed her my passport and she checked in my luggage.  So far so good.  I lined up for the immigration officer, divested of all the contents of my pants and shoes and went through the x-ray machine.  "You still have your belts on!" cried the lady guard.  "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am," and took off my belt.

My passport was looked at by airport personnel three or four times and there was no problem.  I also got through the immigration in Vancouver in a breeze.  Now the tables are turning to my favor at last, I thought.

The following day, I went to the Philippine consulate to inquire about my passport.  Don Wallis, husband of Trudy, took me to West  Pender St. where the consulate is located.  There I was told that I will have to have my passport replaced but I have to wait several days.  Or, they could give me some sort of document for passage but it will only be if I will leave from Vancouver to the Philippines.  I still have a lot of things to do in Kaslo and besides, I already have a ticket flying back to the Philippines through LA.  "Couldn't the consul just give me a document verifying that this passport is authentic?" I asked.  "It will also be a matter of days before that can be done," he said.

So, here I am now in Kaslo, after a long journey to Nelson via a Greyhound bus, not knowing what would happen to me when I enter Spokane, Washington to fly back to LA on the 23rd.  Hmmm, if they don't want to accept me, let them deport me instead.  What can I do?  It was an accident!

It's not all about Kimchi

I was a tourist when I first visited South Korea. Being a tourist is not the best way to see a country. Not only is the time too short with a fully-packed itinerary that one does not have time to use all the senses to their fullest capacity. What you get is a sensory overload of impressions without actually ingesting the essence of each aroma, taste, sight and touch. More so, one is trapped in a plastic bubble bouncing here and there and not really acquiring the pulse of the country and its people. Hence, my first time was all temples and shopping malls and whatever a tour guide does to drain you of valued cash with no actual contact with the locals. It is not too long before I suspected I was only seeing what they want me to see - a sugar-coated candy that will be sweet till the last bite. And to think I am diabetic!

This is the reason why I got so excited that Sunday morning when I got a text from no less than the Brother President asking me if I wanted to join him in Korea to arrange for a school cultural exchange deal. After making sure it was the South and not the North we were visiting, I readily said yes after excitedly telling my wife about it and getting her nod. I began making preparations for the trip. I saw to it that I had a suit, undershirts, matching ties, shoes, and most of all, calling cards – a very important commodity for Koreans and the Japanese.

I was part of a 3-man delegation headed by the Brother President, who we fondly call Broden, and Ms. Lani Maderazo, the Head of the Cultural Program of the school. We were escorted by Mr. Kevin Lee, a Korean whose line of work is about creating exchange programs between Korean schools and different schools abroad primarily for sports, but in effect, also covers the academics and the arts.

We arrived at Incheon Airport around 11:30 pm on October 16 aboard Cebu Pacific Flight 5J194. We had to traverse a long road going to our first destination at Cheungchungbok-do. As it was already way past dinner, I was extremely hungry. Kevin, God bless him, intended to feed us first before heading off to our first destination. Unfortunately, the restaurants at the airport were already closed so, we went out and had dinner at what I supposed is a usual stop for those arriving and leaving the airport. It goes without saying that I was excited to eat my bibimbop so much so that when Kevin saw me gobbling the food, he told me to slow down and savor the taste. That was my first faux pas.

On our arrival at Cheungchungbok-do after about an hour and a half drive at a 120 km car cruise, Kevin billeted us at the elegant Ramada Hotel. The place was chilly and very quiet as if we were the only creatures still alive at that time. It was 1:30 am. The following morning, after a hearty buffet breakfast at the hotel, clad in our finest suits, we went to our first destination, the Daesong Elementary School, a privately-owned school where Kevin's son studies. The school is very impressive. It employs Canadian teachers who teach English; as a result, the students there spoke in correct grammar and have good pronunciation skills.

he second school we visited was Saegwa High School - the real purpose of our visit to Korea as the two school presidents of both schools are to sign a Memorandum of Understanding as regards the exchange program our schools are to make. We were greeted with a banner welcoming our arrival and warmly met by no less than the president and his committee. Just like the first school, we were taken to the school’s head’s office, asked to sit down on huge stately sofas opposite one another that surround a huge coffee table. With an interpreter nearby, we were formally introduced to one another and after a brief exchange of pleasantries and calling cards, were offered tea to drink. With all the protocol we underwent in both schools, I was already feeling like an ambassador on a State visit. Then, we were led to an auditorium where students had been waiting for us. I began to suspect music like “Hail to the Chief” would begin to fill the air by then but I realized that would be wishing for “the whole nine yards.” Nevertheless, I felt I was a member of the Diplomatic Corps with all the fanfare afforded to us.

The two presidents took turns in speaking their prepared speeches with the Korean translator at the podium interpreting. After the signing of the Memorandum of Understanding and photo ops, we were taken to lunch at a traditional restaurant on a mountain called Songrisen, about an hour drive from the school. It was my first traditional restaurant experience where you had to eat with nothing to separate a diner and the floor except for a thin pillow. I sat with my feet in a lotus position while the side dishes (about 20 of them) and the main course were being served. After 10 minutes, my feet began to feel numb and before I felt pins and needles, I managed a short stretch or else I would have to be put on a stretcher because I could not even stand on my own. The food, for me, was delicious for unlike Filipino food that is always more on the salty kind. There were some that certainly had to be an acquired taste. However, it was not all too different for my taste buds for after all, I have a huge appetite for stranger things. After lunch, our hosts took us to the nearby Songrisan National Park where one finds a very ancient temple and a very big Buddha that dwarfs any human being beside it. Images of the Forbidden City flashed before my eyes as we walked marvelling at the temple and nearby edifices. The multi-colored trees on the background gave me a feeling of peace and tranquillity. I could have stayed there for a whole day reading a good book or painting with watercolor sufficient to make me a very contented man.

That night, we were invited to a lavish dinner by the school administrators and some members, probably officers, of the parents association. Just like lunch, we were to dine the Korean way; leave shoes at the front, wear the provided slippers and sit on the floor while eating. Added to my agony of having to sit on the floor, I still have yet to master using their iron chopsticks. My second faux pas came when I dropped food on that immaculately clean floor simply because it slipped from my chopsticks. The female interpreter could sense how hard it was for me and she could only empathize. But I had no complaints for they fed us well. We were presented gifts and after bidding everyone adieu, went back to the hotel satiated.

The next day, we started early as we had to leave for Seoul. Along the way, our first stop was a school for the arts, similar, in lack of a better comparison, to our Makiling High School for the Arts. It, too, was on top of a mountain. However, students there stay for a five-day retreat to gain experience in ceramic pottery, candle-making, dance, drama and what-have-you. We were met by the owner, a sculptor, and several guys whose names I do not recall in spite of the cards given me. We were served lunch and after a tour of the area, we were on our way to Seoul.

We visited more schools but to avoid redundancy, allow me to just talk about two more schools which I find very notable. The first one is the Ahyon Polytechnic School, a school where teen-agers learn the rudiments of the performing arts. At the ground floor, one finds the students learning how to do make-up and props for the theatre. The materials they use are just too impressive and the students’ works, impeccable. The second floor is composed of rooms that had standard varied musical instruments. Each room is complete with drum sets, amps for guitars and are ready for recording sessions. The piano room had several pianos with headsets attached to each one lest the room becomes a cacophony of piano renditions of varied tunes playing simultaneously. The teacher can just plug in to what piano he wanted to hear just like what we have in speech clinics. We were treated to a two-woman act of a song and dance routine as they rehearsed for a show the following day - a show we were invited to watch. One group played Quicy Jones’ Ai No Corrida, a disco sound from the early 80’s that amazed us at how they sounded just like the original.

The other is the Gwanak Camp, a facility where students learn to speak English. Not necessarily a school as we conceive it to be, this is a public facility where Grade 6 pupils in different schools come for five days to learn from teachers coming from the US, Canada and Great Britain. The facility is very impressive as it has top of the line gadgets and learning tools imaginable

As for the cultural aspect of our visit, we were given a taste of both the pop and the high-end cultural shows. We were taken to the Korean Broadcasting System more popularly known as KBS (we have it in cable here) where famous singers like the group of Sandara Park used to play (we were told that her group is no longer famous). We were able to catch the more popular group called Sistar, an all- girl group who is uber sexy and beautiful (well, they sound good, too) among others. We also watched a cultural show entitled Miso, a dance concert featuring a love story that was tragic but was resolved with a happy ending.

My impressions of South Korea never changed from what I have when I first set foot in it. The country, with its very efficient system, seems to be flawless. With practically all vehicles, even the motorcycles that mobilize the city to its fast paced rhythm are armed with a GPS. The city streets are clean and devoid of people who have nothing better to do than ogle and watch for unknowing victims, or those “istambays” drinking at the corner of the street that plagues Manila. There, everyone is busy trying to live a decent life, industrious and effectively doing their chores.

With my recent trip, I have learned how the elders educate their young - with a fully functional government funding most of the schools with a “no holds barred” policy of providing the learners with excellent, quality education. The schools, with their ubiquitous huge mirrors that welcome everyone, one suspects that these are not just for vanity’s sake but for something more sublime, their flare for traditions, rituals and protocols like bowing and leaving the slippers at the door, and the respect one gives to another no matter what stature one has in society that even superiors bow to his/her subordinates as a sign of respect. One can feel the love for country and what it stands for in each and everyone. I can just marvel at the level of confidence of every individual knowing that one is just as good as the person beside him/her. With the government spending for more instructors who are native speakers of English, I have the feeling that while we have seen the influx of Koreans here in the country, someday, the onrush will stop as they have already acquired what they want from us in their own land and we will, once more, be left behind as we impatiently hie into the roads of progress, rather carelessly, only to be marred by an undisciplined populace made lazy by an obfuscate political system and an unabashed corruption of greedy leaders who care for nothing except to enrich themselves by stealing from the public coffers.

The Land with 6 Rings

There is no greater adventure than traveling to another country where you get to meet its people, taste its food (as long as you are not picky and have a very adventurous palette), feel its climate, have a sense of its culture, and most of all, know its history. Well, thanks to budget flights, I have been fortunate to have visited the land with a very very long history that it even pre-dates America, most of the Western world and other civilizations by hundreds of years. A week ago, I have been to the heart of China we formerly called Peking, which we now know as Beijing.

Our trip to Beijing was the final leg of the tour of our visitors from Calgary, Canada, Leslie, a childhood friend of my wife, and her German-Canadian hubby, Gregor, who for the first time, visited our country in spite of the frightening stories told him by his peers at work like malaria, dengue and whatever danger one can possibly experience in another land. These plus the travel advisories the country has been getting from other countries which somehow put Philippine tourism at a standstill somehow making Gregor ill at ease about coming. But I'm sure he's glad he came based on his reactions especially when it was time for them to fly back to Canada. Anyway, after several days of visiting Cebu, Bohol, Boracay with my wife and Palawan to which I was fortunate to go,we all travelled with them to China which has been arranged by my wife and her very competent sister, Ate Lilia.

The travel was not without any glitch. First, the visa. Acquiring a visa for China is not that easy. They require an NBI clearance, among other things, which proved to be hard for me knowing how ordinary my name is. True enough, I share my name with another who has been charged with theft. The process was not easy. Then there was the issue of our passports, who our trusted agent had been told, did not have the necessary holes in our last passports,(which turned out was not only taken out as traces of the holes were discovered by my sister-in-law probing deeper into the status of the passports). The second glitch was when we were at the airport. My brother-in-law (husband of Ate Lilia), who is familiar with China as he travels there all the time, did not realize that his passport was to expire in May which is exactly six months from the time of our departure. Cebu Pacific has a policy that one cannot travel with a passport that shall expire in six months. This was not good as the hotel we were to spend the night was reserved to his name, etc... By some stroke of luck and quick thinking, he was able to get a ticket to HongKong, ride a train to the Mainland, catch a plane from there to join us in Beijing. The thing was he missed the tour of the Great Wall.



Anyway, we landed in Beijing at around 1 am with a -3 degree temperature. The biting cold was not as evident yet as we had to stay inside the airport till the tour guide, Helen Yan, picked us up at around 7 am. We were greeted with the utterly cold temperature as soon as we got out to a twenty-seater van that would be our ride throughout the stay. First stop was the Great Wall which was 45 minutes away from the airport. One cannot miss the magnificence of this structure especially knowing that it has been in existence since the 5th century BC. We were treading on centuries old stone which was built as a fortification to fend off nomads and other enemies of those inside the wall. The stones have begun to sink a few inches as based on how the cement used to put them together stuck out. We climbed it and it was no easy feat that reaching the top was like a milestone. Before climbing the wall, I had to buy a pair of gloves and a hat to keep myself from freezing.





Next stop was inside a store that sold enamel vases. There, we were shown how the vases are meticulously made by hand from its raw state till it is cleaned. The factory-cum store also housed the restaurant for our lunch. We had a wonderful meal of about seven courses and the ubiquitous house tea. Unfortunately, we found it impractical to purchase a vase.






Thereafter, we went to the Summer Palace which covers 2.9 square kilometers that contained the Kunming Lake which at this time is beginning to freeze. We could see the hardened water from afar.




Thereafter, we went to a silk factory where we were shown the worm that produces the cocoon from where the silk is harvested. We were in awe at how far the silk would stretch from that tiny cocoon. At the factory’s interior were the various products made out of silk.


After that was a hefty supper, again of several courses and eat-all-you-can rice. We stayed there for a while and headed for our next stop - the Olympic village. Again, one can only be in awe at the vastness of the area punctuated by the
Beijing National Stadium we know as the Bird’s Nest as it resembles just that, a bird’s nest illuminated by red interior lights. Just across it is the Beijing Aquatics Center more popularly called the Water Cube. This was illumined by blue lights. It could have been much more interesting had we gone inside but walking in a vast space at -2 degrees can be painful on your toes and fingers while your teeth chattered it can only be described as offensively cold! We just walked to the nearest spot we could to take a good picture and "suffered" walking our way back to the van with its heater.

WE checked in to Novotel, got three rooms and slept like there was no tomorrow. Day 1 was done!

The following morning, the telephone rang at 7 telling us that it was our morning call. The guide has told the front desk that we should be up and about by 8 am. We rushed to take a shower, had breakfast and we were on the road again. This time, we went to Tianammen Square another wide expanse of land reputedly to be the largest city square in the world. This square was witness to many historical events in China that includes the protests in 1989 where they tried to stop the military, notably tanks with their bodies, similar to what we have accomplished in 1986 we call people power. They failed.

Northside of the square opens up to yet another important landmark, the famous Forbidden City. Again, one cannot imagine how huge this was. It is a complex structure that contains seven huge gates that open up to yet another large interior wit a palace and several structures at the side. At this point, I could not make up my mind if I wanted to have been the emperor of the time knowing how powerful this man could have been, plus the 300 or so concubines (of course), and yet, being trapped in that huge environment with seven gigantic gates and nowhere to go? How much space does one man need? Also, we have been told that the emperor was always up on his toes at 4 in the morning, working, (with 300 concubines, I guess one should) and worry about his life which could be taken by a son or a relative for power. So, I like who I am, thank you.

Then we went to the Temple of Heaven composed of several Taoist buildings which was visited by emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties to pray to the gods for a good harvest.

As any typical tourists, what is traveling without shopping? The last stop we did was to go shopping to two malls. It was very interesting as it is expected for one to haggle the price of a commodity and nobody can beat my sister-in-law to that kind of game. She was so good that after doing business with a lady and she introduced the rest of the party as "my friends", the saleslady could only utter, "Oh no,your friends!"

What do I make of my tour of Beijing. It was a revelation of some sort. I have always known the People's Republic of China as the model for communism, second only to Russia and yet, when I got there, I noticed that it can even be more capitalistic than any other country based on the businesses. I, in my own naivety even asked Helen, although I don't think I expressed myself well, how come there are food vendors plying the streets, while there are others who seem to have a lucrative job. "Who dictates what kind of job one should do?" I asked? She just stared at me. My bewilderment was even escalated when right after our shopping and we were about to leave for the airport, a woman with a baby was begging for alms. That surprised me a lot as my own idea of communism is that of equal distribution of wealth, based on the principle of "each according to his need" as opposed to the capitalistic "each according to his ability." Further reading on the subject led me to understand that after Mao's death and the conviction of the Big Four, Deng Xiaoping instituted economic reforms. By the way I look at it, based on the surge in the economy of China, maybe they are doing the right thing. But then, I have barely scratched the surface of China. I have been looking for residential areas and did not find any, I think. Being on a guided tour might have meant being able to see only what I was allowed to see. Nevertheless, the two-day tour was, in my mind, a remarkable experience.

Two Vacations

In my fifty years of existence, I have had the opportunity to visit different places here and abroad. I have gone to different parts of the Philippines. I have gone up, down and sideways. From up north to Pagudpud, Ilocos Norte where radio stations from China can be picked up more than the stations in Manila, to down south in Mindanao like Cagayan de Oro, Iligan and Davao. I have seen the Mountain Terraces in Benguet and the wonderful Mayon Volcano and its perfect cone. I have travelled by car, boat, ship, plane and train. I have visited other countries like Canada, Malaysia, Thailand, Hong Kong, and South Korea.

And yet my journeys never seemed to be complete only because I have not yet seen the two most important spots in the country - Boracay and Palawan. I will have to agree that it is quite ironic for someone to visit other countries when one has not yet seen the best the country has to offer. Well, I am glad this sad fact changed this year. When my nephew, Nes Rina, from England came over to marry his fiancée, Lala, he decided to do a beach wedding in Boracay. He invited me and my family to witness the occasion. With free accommodation and food, who was I to refuse, right? We have not seen each other for a very very long time.

On April 4, 2010, unmindful of the stresses in school, it being summer and the school year about to close, I, together with my wife and children joined my relatives in Boracay for a holiday of fun and merrymaking. With my wife and children having gone there a couple of times, I was the first-timer, the aanga-anga in the group, which was not bad for I was the one who truly enjoyed the island the most. Everything was fresh and new to me - the wonderful sight of the retiring sun giving that orangey glow as it rests and hides in the horizon, the sound of the calm turquoise sea, the smell of the breeze blended with the aroma of glorious food wafting in the air, my newly acquired henna tattoo and all that festive mood of music and games all contributing to my delight.

The beach wedding was awesome. The flower girl, the English ward of my nephew's fiancee, was angelic in her white gown. The bride, in her expensive gown looked astonishingly beautiful. The ceremony, set with the setting sun that provided a soft, gentle light on our glowing smiles, was very solemn and yet drew a crowd of curious westerners on the beachfront of Station 1. By the time the couple exchanged I do's, a thirty minute firework display lit the dark night. We had one heck of a party thereafter with a group of local boys playing different kinds of drums providing latino music. We danced and drank the night away. What a way to spend a vacation in that wonderful island.

With Boracay done, the next thing to do was to go to Palawan. The opportunity came last Saturday, November 20. Nitz’ childhood friend, Leslie, who now resides in Calgary, Alberta in Canada, with whom we stayed for two days when we went there after our tour of Banff and Lake Louise, arrived on November 13 with her German-Canadian husband, Gregor. Their itinerary included a trip to Cebu, Bohol and Boracay with Nitz and our daughter Kim. As it is the school’s Foundation Week, I could not go with them. However, the next leg of the journey was a three day stay in Palawan. This time, I had no excuse not to go. So it did not take me a lot of convincing (like as if I needed it) to go with them on this trip. Luckily, Nitz and Leslie were able to get tickets for me that Friday night when I finally decided I wanted to come. The following day, we were on the plane headed for Puerto Princesa.

On arrival, our ride was there waiting for us to take us to the hotel. We had dinner and got ready for the tour the following day.
The first trip was a two hour drive to the Underground River – a navigable subterranean river that stretches to 8.2 kilometers of brackish water making it the longest underground river until the discovery of the one found in the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico. We were greeted by monkeys and a monitor lizard wandering around. Then, we walked inwards to where the site was for two minutes and the mouth of the cave appeared. We took our gears and rode the boat. Oared competently by a lone boatman who serves as a tour guide at the same time, the 45 minute trip was as relaxing as it was enjoyable. One is treated to an awesome display of nature-crafted stalactite and stalagmite formations whose arrangement is not lost to the very imaginative natives. It opens up to a huge cavern they call the cathedral with a huge candle-like figure welcoming you as you enter. To your right you’ll find images of the Holy Family and other icons. Farther downstream, you get to what they call as the market as you’ll find huge figures of cacao, corn, mushrooms, etc. Then it opens up again with an even bigger cavern with a surprising height of 65 meters. As is the nature of these caves, the place is replete with fauna, specifically, bats and other creatures. No, we did not see a snake althought the boatman said there are a few. Truly awesome!

What makes the ride really significant is the humor of the boatman. I couldn’t stop laughing at our boatman who had to speak in English the whole time because Gregor would not understand a thing if he did not. During the last part of the trip, he asked Gregor, who was the one responsible for the light, to direct his light on a piece of stone. He said, “In front of you, you will find an image of Jesus Christ just like the one in the Shroud of Turin. See his face? His nose is bleeding...just like me,” then he says in Tagalog to me, “sir hirap na hirap na ko. Talagang nose bleed na!” (Sir, I’m really having a hard time speaking in English that my nose is already bleeding!). Then, he also pointed at a structure that looked like the back of a nude lady. “She even has a name... Sharon.” We asked, “Sharon? Why Sharon?” Then he said “Stone. Sharon Stone.” He also showed us the water mark during high tide which could be as high as a meter. Then he said, “Even then, the river is still navigable during high tide. So you can come here no matter what time of day. Except 12 noon.” Wondering, we asked, “Why?” “It’s our lunch break, sir.” He also teased the ones just entering. The first boat had about 5 Germans. He said, “Gutten aben. (“Good evening” as it is so dark inside one can only travel with the aid of the flash light that ran on a car battery) I hope you make it.” Then, to the eight Filipino teen-agers, “Hi, enjoy! There were also eight of us when we started.”

Next on the agenda was go to the Mitra ranch, Baker’s Hill and the loom weavers. I tried my hand on the loom and it was really quite an experience. Knowing that these people would work up to a month just to finish a piece and for, I guess, a mere pittance, I felt sad for them. And yet, their glorious smiles never hinted at being sad. Truly remarkable.

The following day, we went to Honda bay to ride a boat and go island hopping. No, we did not really go swimming but did something better. We went snorkelling to watch and feed the different variety of fish that abundantly lived in the corals happy and unfazed by the swimmers who brought food with them. We had lunch, then proceeded to another island and see other breeds of fish swimming. Too sad, we had to leave for the airport and just like that, everything that transpired turned into just wonderful memories we will treasure forever. Palawan, I shall return.