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.

Samu't sari

It's raining again and I have nothing to do. Actually, that's not true. There are tons of things to do but I don't feel like doing them. I have not written anything for quite some time now and before I lose touch of my writing self, I better exercise. So here I am, amid the raging storm hearing the winds pounce on the roof and finding its way in tiny crevices in the window causing it to howl madly like a wolf in mourning, I blast away on my keypad trying to make sense of thoughts that go through my mind :)

Interestingly, two years ago, we had one of the worst flooding in Manila. Yesterday was Ondoy's 2nd year anniversary and here we are experiencing bad weather once again.

Yesterday was declared to be family day and we decided we'd eat together and have fun. I cooked seafood pasta in marinara sauce with basil thrown into it while my wife brought home Savory chicken and bread. I was looking forward to a nice dinner but lo and behold, my two elder children called up to say they can't go home early as they were still in a meeting in their respective companies. We had to eat ahead of them. Drats.

Looking further on, my son, Mickey, was in a concert at the Philamlife Auditorium. His friend, Reginald Espiritu who is now studying at the Berklee School of Music, came home for the summer break and decided he'd do a concert with his friends in Manila and that included my son. So, together with members of the Manila Symphony Orchestra and the Lasallian Youth Orchestra, they practiced and managed to put up a concert. They also invited three other entertainers - Rivermaya, Julianne Tarroja and Quest. I've invited the school President, Bro. Dennis and our visiting brother from Mexico, Bro. Lazaro and they both came. It was a truly remarkable night especially for Mickey as he was the concert master and even played solo in the opening.




I've finally reconnected with my cousins, Ferdie and Mon Macasaet. These guys were with me for a year when we all studied at St. Paul San Miguel, Bulacan. Facebook is just wonderful. I called them up and managed to talk to their mom, Ate Dolor. I plan to take my sisters Ate Linda and Ate Becky to their house this Sunday. Hopefully the weather will be better by then.

Through Mon's account, I traced our former classmates and quite frankly, I could not recognize anyone. After 30 years, we sure have changed a lot. For sure, I have grown tons of weight and where I gain in body structure, I have lost in hair. I have contacted the ones I remember but nobody has replied back except for the acceptance of my friend invites to Lally and Boyet. Well, maybe they have forgotten about me for after all, I only stayed in St. Paul for a year.

Through Ferdie's account, I managed to get in touch with Nats, son of Ate Bine, whom my father had pleaded to take me as no school in Manila would accept me. It was through her intercession that I managed to get into St. Paul and continue with my life. She is now 85 years old.

As the cliche goes, how time flies. Now that I am nearing my retirement, I long for old friends and reminisce. Oh well...

Several more brushstrokes and the wall shall be alive

I am doing a collaboration mural with several artists notably A. G. "dolphin" Sano. The guy's been doing murals for almost forever, I think. His works are everywhere in the Philippines. There's one in C5, here in school, another in Paliparan, Marikina and a lot more others. We started last Wednesday, 17 Aug, and I was amazed how fast we worked. I was able to sketch about four faces. I have started doing the painting and coloring and I'm almost done. A few more working days (nights) and I shall be doing the finishing touches. I intend to help the others as soon as I am done with my share of the wall. So far I have about 5 figures in it. The only thing is that we work at night. Last Wednesday, we started at 9 pm and ended at 4 am. You can just imagine how my day was that Thursday. I had to prepare the artworks which are contest winners and selected works in our on-the-spot painting contest for exhibit. That entailed framing, naming and posting them on the panels. Needless to say that I was already very sleepy before lunch. The drive home was terrible. I could feel my muscles shutting down on me. To make matters worse, the traffic situation at C5 was at its worst. I almost had an accident that night. I just realized I was headed right in front of a parked Pajero. (Hope my wife doesn't read this)

The good thing about doing the project is the association and the bonding one experiences doing something like this. The painters I am working with are advocates. A. G. is a strong advocate of, you guessed right, dolphins! I guess he saw The Cove. A movie about how dolphins are being slaughtered in one part of Japan. He is also against the killing of sharks. His girlfriend, May, is an NGO worker and an advocate of nature. I have no advocacy yet and maybe hanging on with these guys would turn me into an advocate, somehow.

Ars Gratia Artis

During the 70's, sex movies flourished. If I remember it correctly, what started the band wagon was a documentary film entitled "Language of Love". This was the first movie that showed two people having actual carnal knowledge with genitals and all being shown on the big screen. This brought mild porn to the mainstream with movies bearing titles like "Marsha" and the like giving rise to the term "Bomba". Naturally, Filipinos cannot be far behind. The first Filipino movie that showed nudity, to my recollection was "Uhaw", a Merle Fernandez film. Then things went haywire and the movies became bolder and bolder. Foreign films like "Lush Combo" and other smut began to show up. Old movie houses which would have double shows, triple even, became the favorite choice of movie enthusiasts of this genre for these cinemas had what was termed as "singit" or "in-between" screenings which were usually the porno stuff which were best shown in the privacy of someone's bedroom. I was a sophomore then and classmates who had cheated their age to get a driver's license and had been issued cedulas became very popular not because they were able to purchase beer but because they could enter the movie house at will even if the show was "For Adults Only." What we usually did was have them pay for the tickets for us and we were allowed to watch under the premise that we were all "adults". During martial law, these genre faded but made a comeback when Gloria Diaz and Elizabeth Oropesa made a film that would showcase their wet braless blouses showing their nipples. This was the birth of the "bold" era. Then the "pene" era arrived.

Why did I suddenly begin remembering these events in my life? Well, because of the oft repeated argument that these films were done for art's sake. Be it bomba or bold, the starlets would be heard justifying the display of their naked bodies onscreen was inevitable since the role called for it - as if that was okay making and that made a lot of sense. Like art was a license of some sort to do dastardly things and it would be alright.

What has that got to do with the present? A lot! I have been reading in the papers about a very controversial exhibit now being shown at the CCP of supposedly "art" which causing an uproar with a lot of people, especially Catholic church officials because said exhibit, they claim, is a desecration of Jesus Christ and the Holy Family. I am referring to "Kulo" an exhibit of some 30 artists from the University of Santo Tomas led by Mideo Cruz.

I have not seen the exhibit personally but I know that it includes the image of Jesus Christ with a male organ right on His face, the statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary given horns and whiskers, etc. Based on the reports I have been reading, what can I say, as an artist and an Art educator?

During the 60's, John Lennon caused the ire of the public when he said that the Beatles was more popular than Jesus. Quickly, people burned their albums condemning the British singer as an arrogant bastard whose popularity got over his head. Later on, John explained that he never meant to displease the public. He never said that he or the Beatles as a group is more powerful than Jesus Christ. All he said was that it seemed like people idolize them too much that they are beginning to be more popular than Jesus. There's a big difference there.

Anyway, having that in mind, my first reaction is to be non-judgmental especially that I have not seen the exhibit personally. I tried to rationalize and asked questions like, "What is the theme of the exhibit?" "What is it's message?" "Could it be that the artists are depicting the abasement of religion in modern times? That they wanted to show their audience that we are losing our faith and this is how they know how to show that message?" If this is correct, are they right? Are they using the right method to show their opinions? At any rate, I have to see the raison d'etre of the exhibit before I can pass judgment.

On the other hand, I cannot discount the possibility that one of the ploys of artists in order to be popular is to launch a piece that has a super shocking factor. A piece that shocks the world enough to make the people talk about it. That would definitely place someone in the map. Definitely, "Kulo" is one that has uber shocking effect attacking the primary religion of a land that even Presidents and other political leaders kowtow and listen to its priests.

Objectively, what do I think of the works on exhibit? While it did manage to cause fire, like true art should, I believe that it has overdone it. The question remains - Is its shocking factor sufficient for it to be considered as good art? Will it be enough to exonerate the artists of said exhibit from the prelates' ire? Can it be considered good art even if it denigrates the sensibilities of the faithful? Is it alright to insult someone's beliefs for the sake of Art?

For me, I would have not been troubled by genitals on display not because that is quite ordinary these days but because it is part of the human body and hence could be the subject of art. However, I have problems when art is used to insult someone else's beliefs. We should treat each other with respect. If there is something I feel passionately about, I expect another to respect that even if he or she does not believe it.

What about the artists' freedom of expression? Isn't there a constitutional guarantee for one to exercise this freedom? Yes, but then I believe that the right to freedom of expression carries with it a concomitant amount of responsibility. Every kind of freedom, as a matter of fact, does. We do not want freedom to go haywire for it may cause mayhem for everyone and anyone can claim having the right. As an Art educator, I think the freedom to express should be exercised with caution. Art should transcend thought, thought that is productive, a thought that stimulates the mind but nevertheless the same should promulgate goodwill in the end.

I don't know what the charter of the Cultural Center of the Philippines is but based on its title alone, I think its main purpose is to showcase and propagate Filipino culture. The present exhibit is not representative of the culture of the Filipino people. As a matter of fact, it is going to the opposite end. Also, it is probably a first of its kind, ergo, is not within the Filipino psyche. I would have understood had the exhibit been shown in another gallery for it is, after all, at this time alternative art rather than the mainstream.

In the end, is it good art for me? Again, I do not have the exact data on the exhibit. I don't know its theme or its reason for being. However, in my opinion, art is still about good taste and good taste is one that does not involve leaving a sour flavor in the mouth.

No Smoking

I heard from the news this morning, while having breakfast, that the DOH is planning to push for the No Smoking ban started by the MMDA in some specified areas, be made nationwide. It seems that the world of smokers, which unfortunately includes me, is getting smaller and smaller. However, I am not fazed for I don’t smoke that much anyway and I am a bit sceptical that this law would ever be fully enforceable for several reasons. First is the ningas kugon mentality we have, a term every Filipino knows as that of something being good only at the start but failing to follow it through. Filipinos have this characteristic of initializing something but failing to finish it. Hence, most of the things we do are usually temporary in nature.

Second is that the law enforcers who are supposed to put this law into effect are mostly smokers themselves. This being the case, they may be more lax in applying the law.

I may be wrong with my assumptions but nevertheless, I think that the move of the DOH is still flawed. If they want to really get rid of smokers, why not go to the main source - the tobacco companies! Close them altogether and let us not produce cigarettes anymore. This also means we would stop importing cigarettes for to do so would defeat the very purpose of why we are closing the tobacco industry.

With this thought, let us see how strong a resolve the powers behind this can be.

Pa-birthday?

Among the top news this week is the revelation that former president GMA authorized the PCSO to grant bishops with SUV's as a donation to help them in their mission to help the poor. It seems like the approval of the president was not done from her own volition but through the request of the beneficiaries. As one bishop asked for the donation as a gift for his birthday, after all, the car that he had was already seven years old and according to him was no longer in good condition (and I had my last car for 15 years and it still served its purpose). Naturally, the news has received flak from the people especially when the constitution has mandated that no amount of donation should be given to any religion or its representative unless such is assigned to the armed forces, or to any penal institution or government orphanage or leprosarium.

No public money or property shall be appropriated, applied, paid, or employed, directly or indirectly, for the use, benefit, or support of any sect, church, denomination, sectarian institution, or system of religion, or of any priest, preacher, minister, or other religious teacher, or dignitary as such, except when such priest, preacher, minister, or dignitary is assigned to the armed forces, or to any penal institution, or government orphanage or leprosarium.

I will leave the law angle to my friend, Connie who is an expert in the field and has written all about it, rather, superbly in her own blog.

Suffice it to say that the bishops justify their action contending that the donation is not really for them but for the benefit of their flock - to facilitate reaching the far-flung barrios, maybe. They also contend that the Pnoy government is just trying to get back at them for their hard stand on the RH bill. The former statement got me to reflect. I have yet to see a bishop do real missionary work. There have only been a couple of times that I have seen an actual bishop in my lifetime and I have been schooled in a Catholic school and still teach in one. And in all these times, it has been in a church and only upon the invitation of the parish or diocese where they say mass and/or give confirmation. This led me to be a skeptic of their justification.

Besides, why an SUV in the first place? To give them the high stature their office represent? But what about the vow of poverty and simplicity? Sometimes, I get to thinking and I get disappointed. Wag na ngang mag-isip ulit.

A crown jewel for twenty six

I wake up today in luxury. We celebrated Nitz' birthday and our 26th anniversary yesterday. As agreed, we were to hear mass at 6 a.m. I acceded thinking it was her birthday and since it's a Wednesday, I assumed it would be a very ordinary short mass. However, when I woke up, Nitz was no longer in bed. (She is currently sleeping with her 87 year old mother as the mother's companion, Theresa, our trusted house help, has gone on vacation in her hometown in Bicol.) Before I digress, Nitz had already gone when I tried to go to her to wake her up. I thought she might have gone to church already or she could just be buying bread. To be sure, I texted her to know her whereabouts. True enough, she was already in church. It was her day and it should be very special. So, I got dressed and went to join her.

Alas, it was not an ordinary mass as I expected. They call it Chrisma. I have never attended one and I can only surmise that it was a mass that would celebrate the renewal of a priest's vows. There were about 50 priests coming from different towns and parishes with the archbishop celebrating the mass. In other words, it was a long celebration. There was this part when the priests lined up to receive the blessings of the archbishop with a bear hug and that alone consumed about twenty minutes or so. T make a long story short, the mass took about two hours.

When Nitz and I received holy communion, we did not finish the mass anymore and proceeded to have a simple breakfast at Jolibee. From there, I helped her cook her favorite dish by chopping about ten onions to smithereens causing my eyes to bleed tears.

After lunch, we set off for the hotel, Crowne Plaza, which is a gift from our eldest daughter, Kraiganne. When we got to the place, I joined the valet to see where he would park the car. (Actually, I forgot to bring my contraband of cigarettes and I didn't like my wife to see I brought some. :) When I tried to rejoin the family at the check in counter, I was told that they are checking in at the 19th floor. It was then that I realized this was not the usual hotel check-ins we usually do. True enough, we were led to a suite room at the 17th floor. My daughter made sure we would enjoy something different this time. Very nice.

When we were settled, we were joined by our two sons. First to arrive from school was Coby. Still clad in his chef uniform, he arrived with some delicacies and a bunch of flowers for his mom. Mickey was still in the office in a meeting with his bosses. He joined us at dinner together with my sister-in-law, her husband, and their child.

Our twenty-sixth anniversary is just like the way we always celebrate it. Fun and enjoyment with nary a care in the world about office work, debts and all that negative vibes which is just as it should be. With this famiy I've got, who needs to be rich?

traje de boda

Just like playing the guitar, I have indulged in poetry without any formal training. I am basically self-taught and having discovered my interest in it when I turned 40ish, I am rather late. Equipped with nothing but vague memories of what at the time seemed meaningless lectures from high school teachers, I plunged ahead thinking I could make it on my own, with lots of help from an online university to provide me with the ins and outs of what poetry is, and how it is done. Armed with a little knowledge gathered from online friends and reading here and there, I tried my best to get myself published once I thought I was ready. After all, why am I studying the craft if my products could not be read or heard, or so, I thought.

Slowly, I managed to sneak into the world of letters having some of my works published in the same online university. As a matter of fact, I even managed to give a public reading of three of my poems in Richmond, Canada, with the auspices of my very good friend, the late Arlene Lawson.

I can say that poetry has been very good to me. I have befriended a lot of poets and writers from abroad. That gave me enough courage to try new depths. It was during this time when I chanced upon a site for Filipinos in the diaspora, a term I even had to look up. I submitted some of my works and failed miserably. It was then that I knew my knowledge is not yet up to par. I should have been crushed but that is not my way.

At the time, I was already practicing to write by maintaining this blog. Unbeknownst to me, I shall be friends with two remarkable sisters, one is a visual artist, the other, the associate editor of the same mag I wanted to penetrate. I don't recall who among the sisters I got to know first but I did exchange blog links with at least one of them. Then, from out of nowhere, the associate editor, Aileen, contacted me one time to tell me that she was interested in publishing my first poem ever that is written in tagalog,Malapot na Tubig or should I say, Filipino, as more people in the academe refer to it. I was ecstatic. To think I was contacted and offered to be published in the mag I wanted to penetrate was heaven to me considering that neither she nor I knew where we are coming from. She would ask me again for my permission for another poem and ask me to join a project of a thousand views of Eileen Tabios' "Girl Singing". That gave me a natural high.

Nevertheless, this post is about the associate editor, Aileen Ibardaloza's, first book of poems entitled traje de boda published by Meritage Press with the cover having been designed by none other but the sister, Sophia. I am fortunate enough to have the honor of having a copy together with another book the poet has sent my way, Toni Morrison's beloved.

From the title alone, I hint the union of two personalities, which I suspect is a metaphor for the merging of two cultures not necessarily worlds apart. To me, the term traje de boda does not simply mean a wedding dress but it suggests sophistication brought about by a rich Spanish heritage deeply embedded in our veins. The fact that we have been influenced by more colonizers complicates our entire being rendering the traje de boda as not only consisting of a heritage taken from the conquistador but is, in fact, the conglomeration of a hodge podge of different sets of values, mores and sentiments rolled into one. In all its ups and downs, this mix is what makes us unique as a people.

I say that the merger of two cultures does not necessarily mean of two opposing worlds as the culture of one of the halves is already known to one of the partners after having been exposed to it, nay, probably to what the other's kindred wanted to be exposed. I say this having in mind one of the poems, Viand, a term we all know to be a dish to go with rice. We enter the world of the union with lines such as

...not
having encountered
the word before,

and
on whom
language was never

forced...

While this can be seen as something light, if not comical, yet we know the situation can be serious as with matter/of children,/politics,in-laws, finances (La Paloma) but everything is worth it considering the happiness the union brings as in Italian Wedding Soup or the commitment one gives in For Paul

But this is not all that I got from the book. I also feel the sense of longing for what once was while learning to embrace the new. I managed a smile upon reading Quiapo a poem written, I suppose, from memory. I, too, have not gone to the place in a very long time and the images that the poem conjured are the same as mine. It may be acaulescent (another word I had to look up. Man do I have a very limited vocabulary) for it is the arm that stretches to all directions. Any part of Manila points to Quiapo and vice versa. It is the heart from where the blood flows; where vendors of abortive potions, assorted herbs, amulets juxtaposed with red candles sell beside the grand ole church to where the Black Nazarene sleeps. It is the age-old traditions of pre-colonial times trapped within an urban jungle.

The book, too, is about relationships made more complicated by players with different circumstances, forged by time between joy and angst, turmoil and plentitude, naivete and wit and so much more. The ironies in The hay(na)ku of the Broken Fourth Wall, replete with sharp images give it power. Who would miss the reference to Jose Rizal and Josephine with the words dulce extrangera? A term Rizal gave to his "lonely" wife. We feel the loneliness of the man as he leaves behind an alien woman who will live in a foreign land in condemnation of her beloved's family and yet continue to fight the battle of her husband and dying of extreme poverty in yet another land that is HongKong?

If there is one thing I learned from this book, other than rousing my otherwise, short attention span, it would be knowing how to make a poem, deliver its punches, enjamb in more ways than one. I have concretized what I have read before that what is universal lies in the particular. That one can write about what one knows without fear of not being understood by another person from the outside looking in. That one should learn how to speak from the heart and surely, there will be someone somewhere who could relate to it and this will grow until what one has written is accepted to be universal truth.

Like I said, I am just self-taught. I may be way-off with my understanding of the book, its essence and raison d'etre and for that I apologize. But I shall not apologize for my innocence. This has been what I saw, or witnessed as I turn each page and I am owning it. To my friend, congratulations on a job well done.

Two Saints

Sometime in 1996, I was commissioned by then Director, Mr. Ochave to create a painting of St. La Salle. My first problem was that I did not have any picture of the subject except for paintings already done by different artists. This made me think that the portrait that I shall be doing will be a painting of a painting. Why do I have to do that when there are lots of copies of the same painting available? It was then that I thought of doing a mosaic to put a different spin on the subject. Hence, what I did was to get colored paper, cut them into squares of about 1/4 of an inch and arrange these squares of different colors until it formed a likeness to the saint. Here is a picture of the outcome.

Unfortunately, the colored papers are now fading away and given a few more years, the face will eventually be gone. Prior to this, I made a mosaic
(my first) of another La Salle saint, Bro. Miguel Febres Cordero who had just been canonized that year (circa 1982) and from whom then newly constructed Prep building was named. I used chips of wood which I laboriously painted with different colors. It was exhibited at the facade of the building until the same has been rebuilt into a bigger edifice which it is now. I don't know where they placed the painting but I have lost track of it is now. Sometimes, this is the problem when an "unknown" artist does a work for free. It does not seem like the piece has any worth and the people that should be taking care of it are unmindful of whatever happens to it. In fairness, I don't think they've thrown it away. It's just somewhere out there waiting to be re-discovered.

A masochist by heart, this year, knowing that retirement is closing in on me, I wanted to leave behind a legacy which will remind everyone that I worked in this school for almost 30 years. I wanted to do another portrait of the founder but the Brother president had something else in mind. Since we have just finished the new administration building, he wanted me to do a portrait of the saint from whom the building is named. This time, I opted to use oil using the same principle of juxtaposing colors instead of mixing them, a technique that closely resembles George Seurat's pointillism. I made a 4' X 5' portrait of St. Mutien Marie. Here it is. Please disregard the big difference in my weight and the amount of hair on my forehead.

The Start of Something Big

On January 28, we held the school's annual on-the-spot art contest. Participated in by grade schoolers from Grades 1 - 7, the competition extended to high school with the following categories. Category 1 (Grades 1 - 3) painting; Category 2 (Grades 4 - 5) painting; Category 3 (Grades 6 - 7) Mobile-Making; Category 4 (high school) painting; and, Category 5 (High school)painting. We invited artists like Mr. Boy Ventura, Mr. Mario Patdu, Bro. Lazaro and our own alumnus, Mahal Adams to judge the entries. When the winners were known, we put these on exhibit together with selected works and various works done by students for the schoolyear. We awarded the winners and opened the exhibit on February 15 with a simple ceremony attended by no less than the President of the school, the principals and their assistants, coordinators, teachers, winners and some guests.




The Judges Judging!

As part of the affair, I wrote a short article to introduce the exhibit which we entitled: The Start of Something Big I am reprinting it here for safekeeping for whatever it is worth.

People’s view of Art as a subject has often been misdirected. This is borne out of the misconception that art only involves doing things that are mere pieces of indefinable hubristic ornaments perceived with an even-a-child-could-do-that attitude that, at best, are hung on walls or those that are put on pedestals to adorn hallways; however, art is about a nation’s history and culture giving the people not only a sense of pride but more importantly, endowing it with a soul. It is during the Art subject that one finds meaning to what one is as a human being, a citizen of a country and, eventually, the world. It is in the Art subject that one begins to know how his forefathers lived, what clothes they wore, etc. It is in the Art subject that students begin to see how his/her people view things around them.

Given the right treatment in teaching the subject, the lessons learned and the values derived from it can be limitless. While it is true that engaging in art can be frolicsome, it is not as superficial as it is purported to be. Engaging in Art can be as important as the other subjects. More than anything, it is more accessible and even much more timelessly relevant than any other. Unbeknownst to even more, we use art in our everyday life more than we know it. There is Art in everything we see and do. There should be art in your choice of clothes- making your color choices match or even designing your own. The most complicated product could not have been successful had not the designers known how to make its packaging as beautiful as it is. From the latest car models to the smallest everyday gizmo one can have in his/her collection, everything started with paper and pencil to make the product not only workable but enticingly beautiful and, most especially, saleable.

The Art subject provides you with the mundane to your most essential needs. It not only teaches you about aesthetics, it also teaches you how to observe the handling of materials and the characteristics of colors to enable you to come up with your own style. The subject is where you start to fulfil your fantasy, make your reality known and shape your future and the world.

From this exhibit, you will find budding artists who will design beautiful packages, engineers who will build strong machines, architects who will create astounding buildings and painters who will record our history through their art. Together, these people will carve the landscape of tomorrow be it in the visual arts, fashion, industry or technology. So in essence, this is the start of something big.

A walk back to 1973 and I was 16 years old again

Back in 1973, I was exiled (or should I say banished, if that is a better term) by my father to far away San Miguel, Bulacan in a parish school called St. Paul's College. It was just a year after Marcos had declared Martial Law. How I wish the reason for my exile was because I was hiding from the military because of my political views. However, it was not that romantic. I was far from being political at the time. I was just 16 years old going 17 and I think I was too young to join either the Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan or SDK or the more renegade Kabataang Makabayan (KM). Let us just say that I have not been a good boy. It was the 70's and we, meaning my friends and I, were experimenting with a lot of things and discovering the world on our own.

Last Wednesday, I was one of the school's representatives to go on an ocular visit of San Miguel for the school's prospective alternative learning (ALE otherwise known as a field trip) to the Madlum Caves, Biak-na-Bato and nearby Balingcupang, a series of caves which was used by Aguinaldo and his katipuneros as hideouts during the war. As fate would have it, I successfully convinced my companions to make a detour to go visit what was my hometown for a year. When we reached the place, I could not believe it but the place barely changed. Of course, the old St. Paul school was no longer there as it has moved to a bigger lot along the highway, which was really the plan even while I was there back in 73. And yet, the municipal hall, the old house built in 1931 which was bought by the Paulinian nuns to be the rooms for some of its college classes, the restaurant-cum-dormitory where I stayed during the second half of my schooling there are still recognizable. Suddenly, I remember the prominent surnames like Buencamino, Pengson, Libunao, Tecson, Reyes, Sevilla, my favorite teachers, Mr. Rolando Waminal (English) and Mr. Perez, (Chemistry), with whom I shared several bottles of beer until about 9 or 10 pm practically everyday in the restaurant where I stayed. I also remembered my classmate that I had a teen-aged crush on, a pretty lass from nearby San Ildefonso. It was just like yesterday and I was 16 years old again.



The picture above was the immediate vicinity of the then St. Paul's College which we used as our playing area. I remember hanging out on an old grotto together with my classmates during recess and lunchtime.

The picture below shows the facade of the building. When asked what it was now, I was told that they were transforming it into a memorial chapel.



I remember being in the honor's class, (there were only two) Junior Jade, and our classroom was the first room immediately after the gate. When inside the classroom, I would peek out the window to check out who was outside and when outside, I could peek in and see if classes have already started.







I was with two of my cousins, Ferdie and Ramon, who came to study here. They were former seminarians who got out and found refuge in San Miguel. Ferdie, the older one, was my age but he was already a Senior. I would have been a Senior, too but unfortunately, I had to repeat the year. I was a bad student, remember? The younger one, Ramon, was my classmate. Ferdie commuted everyday from Baliwag to San Miguel while Ramon and I opted to live in a dorm inside an old house which turned out, after googling it,used to be owned by the Santiago's. I had lots and lots of stories to tell about this house which, from day 1, the natives told us, was haunted. I remember people staring at us after knowing that we lived there.

Ramon and I had two more guys living in the house. I could not remember their names but the older one was a very intelligent guy who just arrived from the Visayas and the other, a Freshman which, for some unknown reason, my mind tells me his name is Alex Montinola. So until someone reminds me who the guy is, he will be Alex to me.

The house was huge with its flooring made of thick slabs of narra wood that no matter how hard you jumped, it would not tremble. The rooms were transformed into classrooms by day until around 7 pm. After classes and when every student had gone home, it became eerie, especially when all lights are turned off. It would be pitch black that one would think he had his eyes closed for he could not even see his palm even if it was right in front of his face. There was an adjacent building where two caretakers lived. We would cross the rooms and join them for a drink of our favorite brew, a long neck and a pulutan of ginataang rimas.







The layout of the house, as I recall it, was that there was a big staircase which leads to the comfort room to the right. Turn left and there would be a dining room but we rarely ate there for none of us cooked. Press on farther and the next would be our sleeping room. There were four beds (cots, I think). If you notice, there are balusters next to a tree. What we did was cut two of these balusters, put them back, and come night time, crawl out using the balusters and hang on and get down to the adjoining tree, go out of the gate and travel all the way to Baliwag to watch a movie.





AFter a month, my cousin left the dorm leaving the three of us. Soon after, my other classmate dropped-out because of his raging hormones told him he wanted to marry a girl from college in the same school but the relationship was thwarted by the girl's family. A few days thereafter, Alex moved to the restaurant where we ate. I was all alone. Sometimes, I would ask some classmates to stay and sleep with me but most often, I was alone. What I would do was cover underneath my blanket and think, if there would be a ghost or whatever, he/she can take me anywhere he/she wants but I am not taking off my blanket!







St. Paul and San Miguel will always be in my mind until memory fails me. It was a milestone not only because this was where I learned how to be on my own and live independently but most of all, I should say that during this time of my life when I was slumped to the ground, this was where I stood up! It was smooth sailing from then on. San Miguel, Bulacan, you will always be in my heart.

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.

Should we wait for Divine Intervention?

Last September 26, we commemorated the biggest inundation Manila has ever seen with more houses being flooded to the roof than any other that happened in a lot of years. This was the worst tragedy brought about by rain that I have experienced with practically the whole of Manila being submerged in high water in only a matter of hours.

Looking back, I remember an old tale about a family trapped on top of their roof, nowhere to go. The family prayed hard for safety. A boat came and asked them to come aboard for safer grounds. The head of the family, being very religious, declined saying that God will help them. So they stayed and the water was not getting any lower. Another boat came and asked them if they would come aboard, but the man stood his ground saying God will provide. He and his family stayed there and prayed. The water never abated but on the contrary, was getting even higher. Another boat arrived and once again, the man declined and just prayed for the water to subside. However, albeit their prayers, the rains did not stop and the water became higher and the waves stronger. The man shouted, “MY God, why have you forgotten us?” The heavens opened and he heard a voice, “You fool! I have answered your prayers three times but you ignored them!”
There is a very famous saying in Filipino that goes like this: Nasa Diyos ang awa, nasa tao ang gawa.” Mercy resides in God; deeds are in men. What this simply means is that we cannot be dependent on God’s graces all the time. We have to do something first.

This is how I view the controversial RH Bill that continues to divide the country today. The divide was even made wider when PNoy, son of the devout Catholic Cory, admitted that he was for the passing of the bill. There had been rumors that the church, which has repeatedly opposed any and all attempts to enact a law on family planning, was ready to excommunicate the president should he continue his support for the bill. Many arguments from both the anti and proponents of the bill have been said but the question still remains, will it ever come into fruition or will it divide the nation to oblivion?

I can understand where both camps are coming from. The church has the right to lead its flock to where it thinks is holy ground. The government, on the other hand, cannot wait for Divine Intervention but has to act immediately on a problem that it faces. Population growth has always been our problem. With more than 90 million people, it will not take long before we fight among ourselves for every bit of space and the dwindling resources that we have. For government to ignore that there is a problem is irresponsible and such a huge faux pas cannot be corrected by a simple statement of “I am sorry” or “oops, I made a mistake!”

What is wrong with keeping people informed? Why deny the people of information that can easily be had. If the church’s grasp on its followers is so strong, it does not need to worry, does it? For me, what the church does is to keep the people in the dark and tell us that they have all the answers. Do they not undermine a person’s ability to be informed and be able to choose his/her plight. At least let us try to help one another and not leave things to chance or the heavens above.

A lot has been said about the hostage taking that happened a week ago. It is not that I do not have an opinion about the caper of one dismissed police but I think too much has already been said. Besides, I am plagued with too much work to make an entry in my blog. However, there is one news item which piqued my interest a little. This is about former Ms. Universe, Gloria Diaz, suggesting to would-be candidates in beauty contests to use translators during the Q&A portion of the show. Ms. Diaz has been receiving flak for her pronouncements and even declared as persona non grata in Cebu. I shall not comment on the intentions of Ms. Diaz for neither have I seen the original interview nor am I privy to her thoughts. She has already explained what she meant and it can be read here if you are interested.

I like to comment on is why people would be slighted by this remark. After all, we are not native speakers of English and it is not uncommon that there are some who can speak and write the language more proficiently than others. If we are to believe Ms. Diaz’ explanation, it is not entirely baseless. She said her idea was for a contestant to answer in a language she is more comfortable with, hence answering the question more adequately. And yet, I am almost certain that the anger felt by Cebuanos is not confined to them. There are more Filipinos who were angered, albeit even initially, with her observation/comment. My only guess is because our medium of instruction is English. As such, we equate being proficient with English as being highly educated. How many among us frown at people who can hardly speak the language? How many among us laugh at someone who mispronounced a word or two? How many among us raised an eyebrow when someone speaks with incorrect grammar. How many among us had a field day with that major major response of our contestant? That Ms. Diaz is the reason why your comment was found to be regarded as inadmissible. I wonder how things would have been had we not been colonized and just developed on our own?

_____________________

I turn 53 tomorrow. As the cliché goes, time flies so fast. Two of my children who are now working surprised me yesterday by taking the whole family, including the maid, who is actually considered as a member of the family, to a sumptuous lunch in an Italian restaurant yesterday. Then, they took us to see the movie, Despicable Me. I am a very happy, contented man. I am so proud of my children.

Honor or horror?

Honor is very important. It must be to any person living in a civilized society. A person without honor is nothing. A person can be a billionaire and be nothing if he/she is devoid of honor. Honor is the credit of distinction given to a person whose life is governed by honesty, fairness and integrity. As such, honor can neither be bought nor sought from anyone. It is freely given to a person worthy of such admiration.

Honor is very important to the Japanese. To them, losing face is the penultimate opposite of honor. In ancient Japan, warriors called samurai lived by a certain code called Bushido, a stern code of ethics one of which was when one is disgraced or loses face, the only recourse was seppuku or what we popularly know as hara kiri, a ceremonial ritual of suicide by ripping the abdomen apart by means of a knife called tanto or a short Japanese sword known as the wakizashi. This is done for the firm belief that death is more honorable than a life in shame. Usually, when the deed is done, an assistant finishes the job by severing the head with the famous katana. While this practice was banned in 1868, there had been cases of seppuku in modern Japan. The last recorded seppuku was that committed by Yukio Mishima, a Japanese writer who wanted to regain the traditions of the past. Traces of this ancient belief still holds true to some devoted Japanese. There was a public official who, on a mere charge of being corrupt, committed the act.

Here in the Philippines, it is totally different. Many politicians have been charged of corruption with a great deal of evidences enough to prove guilt but manage to stay on. No less than GMA, the former president of the Philippines and members of her family have been riddled with corruption charges but still hanged on to power until her reign ended in 2010. She had been charged of having cheated during the elections to which she merely apologized and continued to rule the land. The ousted President Estrada had been found to be guilty of corruption and was even incarcerated but managed to get out by virtue of presidential pardon (maybe to set a precedent so that when her time comes, the present president will have no doubts as to his/her ability to grant such pardon, who knows?)and even ran for the highest position in the land once more.

Such kapalmuks (thick-skinned faced) characteristic is not lost to other government officials. During the SONA of PNoy, he unravelled how much the managers of the MWSS had arrogated themselves almost equal to 30 months pay and building houses on land which should have been used to plant trees. These managers impliedly gave credence to the accusation when they replied that they were willing to cut down on their fat bonuses! This was during a time of the dismal performance of the MWSS to solve the water shortage problem causing havoc in some areas of Metro Manila. Considering the time and place the alleged anomaly was said, they should have resigned immediately at the very least and/or returned what they have allegedly put into their pockets and have their houses demolished just to save face. But no, they were just willing to shave it off. The allegation of plagiarism in the Supreme Court is another noteworthy phenomenon that is enough to lose one's face. Not only did the verdict contained plagiarized items, the same was misused to argue against the very stance the plagiarized portions were written for. How can we teach the young about the evil of plagiarism when the highest court itself is guilty of the crime?

Then there is the office of the Ombudsman. Is spite of the very strong clamor for her to resign or be ousted in office, she continues to cling to her post like a komodo dragon hanging on for dear life. She has been accused on merely sitting on the cases filed against the Arroyos and considering that she was a classmate of the First Gentleman in college, puts a cloud on her inaction or sin of omission. She would declare lack of evidence putting finality on the charges of corruption. Why? I think it would have been more prudent for her to let the cases be heard in court for the sake of the people and, as ironic as it may seem, even in fairness to the Arroyos. If indeed, there had been no anomaly there, so be it. But for heaven’s sake, let the truth come out.

For delicadeza’s sake, she should have resigned from office to erase any and all doubts surrounding her person. Instead, she is hell bent to square it off with anyone who challenges her to date even when her so-called protectors are no longer in office and their allies in congress, the once strong Lakas-Kampi, has been reduced to be the minority.

Incidentally, speaking of the minority, they claim that the Truth commission formed by PNoy is unconstitutional for it is only Congress who can create such a commission. Granting that is true. I say to Congress, form one already!

Honor has been lost to most of these politicians and government officials a long time ago. I am just glad I am not one. I may barely have enough food on the table at times but the food we eat is sufficient to nourish my family and not cause us any ailment for we eat what we earned through hard work. There is honor in that.

What to do

To the two kind souls who commented on my "What to do" article, I thank you for your words. I did not intend to publish the story and was just using this medium to write down my sentiments and have it transferred into my file. I can't write anything legible anymore since the coming of the computer. :)

May the Lord be with you and let us all have peace in our hearts. Thanks.