(source: http://www.philnews.com/)

It isn't very often that we here at PHILNEWS.COM find ourselves speaking highly about someone or something on our website. And while some of our readers tend to fault us for this, we do realize this "shortcoming" of ours but nonetheless feel that our job is not to wax poetic about the positive things we see, but rather point out the things that need fixing, need improving, or need changing. Using a pushcart classroom, Peñaflorida and volunteers teach reading and writing to children living on the streetsWell, this week we're making an exception to highlight an outstanding Filipino who was chosen by CNN (Cable News Network) as one of the finalists in their CNN Hero of the Year contest. He needs your vote to win. Click on this link to cast your vote online (you can vote more than once).

Efren Peñaflorida, was born and raised in the "squatter areas" of Cavite. Surrounded by gangs, drugs and poverty, Efren could have easily drifted into a life of crime or despair. Instead, this resourceful and determined young man decided to not just lift himself out of the predicament he found himself in, he decided to take along with him other young children in similar situations.

Barely sixteen years old when he started, Efren now 28, runs the Dynamic Teen Company and its "Pushcart Classrooms." These are pushcarts loaded up with books, writing materials, chairs, tables and even a chalkboard, that are wheeled around the slums of the city so children who would otherwise never have the opportunity to get aEfren Peñaflorida's Dynamic Teen Company offers Filipino youth an alternative to gangs through education decent education—and a fair shot at life—can at least learn the basics and maybe, just maybe pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.

And by doing what he and his team of volunteers are doing, Efren Peñaflorida might one day awake the rich and the powerful from their fairytale dream world where Rolex watches and thousand dollar dinners are the norm, and face the stark reality that their Philippines is now a third-world country and it is high-time all Filipinos work together to raise it back up to its rightful place as a proud and respected country among the global family of nations.

I could not recall the exact travel time we did from Zurich to Brussels, but I can remember that we had to regrettably drop-off of our itinerary the city of London, which we really would have loved to visit after Switzerland. When we bought our Globalpass, I thought that we can practically travel to any European city we choose. It was essentially right, but not in a case going to London, for example. We needed to pay more on top of what we paid for the pass in order for both of us to experience bulleting through the undersea English tunnel between mainland Europe and London. We opted out.

It was a rather quiet evening ride inside our TGV train cabin. Only a muted soft-pitch sound of steel wheels grating against to what might be a kinky rail was the occasional nuisance. There was no sightseeing of the countryside that happened in that particular train ride. Remindful of mischievous fireflies fluttering out in the darkness of summer night were those seemingly flickering lights from far villages that we passed by had become our consolation against the night’s black tinted sky.

Soon, we arrived at Brussels station late in the evening. The terminal’s customer service office was the only one open with an employee at the counter talking to couple of passengers, in between them was a glass window. I was a bit surprised at the early absence of activities at the terminal.

I came up and asked if we're in the right station we planned to detrain to one of the three gentlemen busily replacing poster from an advertising board at the station’s concourse wall afterward. Shortly, I went back to my wife who was nearby - smiling, I pulled her close to me and whispered, “We disembarked too early, ha ha! This is not the main station; this is why it is eerily quiet here!” We were two stations shy from the main terminal of Brussels. We continued to find the exit and left the station.

From the ground outside, I could tell the rain-shower had just abated. The light drizzle was above our heads. Several puddle on the street our feet and our hand-carry’s casters had to avoid were like patches of mirror reflecting weak gleam of light from city light posts. It was short-lived though, as the drizzle darts its way down through it, the reflection muddled abruptly.

The east indian restaurant we found nearby was an answer to my late craving and our refuge to our tired feet. While sipping tea and while waiting for our dinner to be served, I pulled out my travel guide and started flipping its pages to find a place to stay. I wanted to find a budget-friendly accommodation yet decent enough to sleep in. I found Les Bluets Hotel. It was close to our modest expectation.

“I have one remaining room available, but can only accept guests until 9:30 in the evening!”, says the lady on the other end of the phone. It was past nine when I checked the local time.

“Well, we’re actually in the middle of our late dinner right now. If you would be so kind to expect us no later than ten in the evening, it will be much appreciated. You see, our train just arrived awhile ago…”

“Not later than ten, then!” she interjected firmly without a perceived willingness on her voice to entertain further any negotiation for the extension I might have.

“Fair enough!” I said to myself. After my exchange of information with her, my wife and myself tried to finish our dinner without much rush, but still mindful of the time.

Soon, we braved the drizzle for the second time and walked out to a close by plaza where several cabs were in their queue ready to take in passengers…

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(continued...) I pulled out the cellphone from my pocket and called Dave.

"Hey, Dave! We just arrived here at Termini! What's your apartment number again? We..." I asked, but was cut with an equally over-eager voice from him.

"Don't worry about it, let me just meet you guys up at Rialto Bridge!" replying with a hint of seemingly concealed grin on his end.

That left me wondering.

After our phone conversation, and while looking at the map we just purchased from a souvenir shop at the terminal in an attempt to find our way to Rialto bridge, my wife and I chose to walk instead of boarding the Vaporetto (water-bus), which at that time was getting heavy with boarding tourists.

(When we met Dave later at Rialto bridge, he explained to me that it’s a lot easier meeting us in a public place such as this famous bridge rather than try our luck in unconventional narrow lanes of Venice. He proved himself right later on.)

We did the right decision to walk.

Except from transient beings, i.e. these wandering tourists - I felt as if I was walking in a place so different from any present-day civilization. The city's ancient elegance to me is beyond description. A moment in time when your eyes get spell-bounded by what it sees, and your tongue fails to process words to describe it. In the end, it is the heavenly sensation I felt that will testify to its impeccable greatness…and my camera, I guess.

We crossed several smaller bridge on our way to Rialto, each offering different views from the other. Vendors and tourist hawkers are everywhere. Some straight-faced, others would offer their traditional greetings: “Buon Giorno!”

I noticed most, if not all, alleys do not have letter signage in them, but only directional arrow pointing to city's main attractions (i.e. Piazza de San Marco).

Though I felt my feet becoming heavy at that point, we continued on, enjoying each view every time we passed by at narrow alleyways snaking over a turquoise canal.

A showcase of quaint and cozy shops spread on both sides of the alley enhanced our enjoyment. We did our occasional stops on arch bridge to take pictures of gondola gliding smoothly through meandering water canal as well. At times, the wife would giggle with enjoyment every time she hears fedora-clad baritone gondoliers sing their hearts out.

Meanwhile, Dave had been at the Rialto bridge way ahead, waiting for us. TO BE CONTINUED.

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It was already past seven in the evening in Paris when we alighted from our train that departed from Luxembourg City an hour or so earlier. The Gare De L'est, which is situated in the east side of Paris is a huge central train terminal. Looking around and observing the shops further away from the train concourse and close to the main station entrance at the opposite side, the Gare De L'est could be mistaken only as one impressive strip mall.

Had it not been for what I thought were original structures of the station, aside from rail tracks and train themselves - like this huge decorative circular glass window above the entrance wall, the almost-artisan carved gigantic arched entrances with classic embossed lettering on top indicating a year or a name, the classy marble flooring all over the station, the digital LED clock post that seems to continuously show-off its fiery red numbers flashing to every traveler passing by, those strategically located modern information booths, and at the south-end where a well-lighted and busy central ticketing office is located - I would have made it only but a modern and a bit neoclassical shopping centre. The visual appeal for a synergetic attempt of its design at least made this station look outstanding to me.

As my wife and I were waiting for our friend we were about to meet, we just agreed to sit on a bench facing the wide open entrance. From there, I felt the cold air gushing in. It was gentle and cold, but less (as opposed to wintertime in Canada!).

Looking outside from where we're sitting, I looked up above past the glass window and saw orange-hued colour spread throughout the evening sky that may indicate a lively and a highly urbanised activities the city of Paris may have been enjoying that night. While the orangey iridescent colour seems to mutely brush-off the darkness brought about by evening sky over the city, the colour became stronger as soon as my gaze level off to the city's skyline that was characterized by an interesting outline of assortment of city's buildings and structures.

The light snow I noticed from the outside falling to the ground gave me an almost surreal perspective of the city and enforced my long-time held understanding of what Paris is. Against a backdrop of some neon- and incandescent-inspired lighting festooned to ornament the facade of a hotel from across the street, the free-falling snow that reeled in slow motion before my captivated eyes, built the picture I've been drawing upon Paris: the City of Lights. It would prove later on - as you will see from my succeeding journals, that Paris, indeed is right to be called by that name. TO BE CONTINUED...

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Our differences are product by motley rules we apply in life and how our minds are predisposed by what we think is right based on our set values. Differences can produce indifference and apathy that lend to solitude or divisiveness. We essentially live through it and we breathe its animosity in the air. For the most part, we demonstrate friendly faces, but mistrust still ensues within us. We create a seemingly amicable atmosphere, but also built six-foot fence of reservation around us - high enough for us to secretly peek in others' faces beyond that fence, and good enough for us to take cover and duck if we choose to. A perennial cliche.

Yet indeed, it is almost the accepted reaction for fear of being rejected. A justifiable action we create to hide our own indifference (but, is it?) - wearing a smiling face mask amidst our own dejection; holding back our painful grimace to picture ourselves as a rather cheerful and hyper-active jester; or even more so as patching our wound to keep it from further bleeding and staining our skin, yet even a cut flesh needs breath of fresh air in order to heal!

We are so afraid that undoing these carefully juxtaposed life's rules could outstrip us of our self-respect we have maintained so hard and far. We tend to dodge and avoid biting the bullet.

At the end of the day, there's not much difference among us. It is pretty much cut-and-dry. We are all capable of feeling the pain; we have all the right to laugh at ourselves; we have all the capacity to harness our talents for good; and more - we have all the freedom to take sides, by our own choice to become content or miserable, achiever or cheater, liberal or conservative, etc.

What difference does it make? What does it matter if we unmask and become the 'sensitive' old self again ready to embrace another human being as well as our own weakness and flaw? Who doesn't have one after all?

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(sinaryo)
Ang biyak na pisngi ng buwang nakamasid sa kapanglawan
Sa ispermang luhaang nagbabantay sa parihabang kongkreto
Ay pilit na pinatatahan nang hanging tapik ay malumanay.
(konsepto)
Tahol at alulong ng asong askal
Pusang-itim na kumaripas sa harapan
Badyang pangamba dahil sa 'mamang' me karit
Sa balintataw at imahinasyon hanggang ngayon di pa maipinid.
(tradisyon)
'Kaluluwang' magdamag na nakikipag-ulayaw at naguguluhan
Sa guyod ng 'buhay' na tao sa kampo-santo'y nakipagsabayan
Nagkagulo-gulo ang siyesta ni tandang Beatong punanaw
"Hoy, mga hijo..." ang sigaw niyang inihip ng amihan
Doon sa kabataang nakahambalang sa ibabaw ng nitso at naglalasingan
"...ako'y pagpahingahin niyo ng tahimik, dahil 'di ko nais inyong mga ligalig!"
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Lupa ng araw, ng luwalhati’t pagsinta,
Buhay ay langit sa piling mo...

Mahal ko ang bayan natin. Ito ang unang pundasyon ng aking panulat ngayon na gusto kong linawin sa umpisa. Kung merong umaasa na maiiba ang takbo ng buhay sa Pilipinas patungo sa kaayusan, isa ako sa mga taong iyon. Kung merong banyaga o kahit kababayan natin na mamaliitin ang kakayahan natin bilang isang bansa, ako ang isa sa unang aalma.

Bakit? Sapagkat ito ang pinagmulan ko. Buhay ng ating mga ninuno ang kapalit nang kalayaang atin ngayong tinatamasa (hindi ko ito maunawaang ganap noon).

Ano ba ang kalayaan at bakit dapat nating itong mahalin at ipagpasalamat? Bakit sa tingin ko na ang susi sa ikagigising ng mga nasa puwesto ay ang tunay na pagkalinang sa kahulugan ng kalayaan?

Dahil ito ang humugis sa atin bilang bansa. Ito ang nagbuklod sa atin. Ito ang kaibahan natin kumpara sa ibang parte ng mundo, wala tayong mapaniil ng idelohiya, kundi kalayaan ang meron tayo ngayon.

(Huwag sana na) subukan nating tayo ang nasa kalagayan ng mga Hudyo noong 1930's, Tutsi sa Rwanda at mga Muslim sa Bosnia noong 1990's, Cambodian noong 1970's, yung mga Intsik sa Nanking noong 1937. Malagim ng resulta ng iba-ibang paniniil na iyon sa kanilang mga tao (racial, religious, ethnic, at political).

Tayo bilang Pilipino, nalasap din natin ang ating parte dahil sa mga sumakop sa atin. Ngunit iyon nga ang nakalulungkot, hindi natin ito pinahahalagahan base sa mga gawi ng nasa posisyon ngayon; masyado na ang kagarapalan at pagyurak sa kalayaan na dapat sana ay suklian ng tapat na paglilingkod sa tao at hindi sa sarili!

Hanggang hindi ito tumitimo sa katinuan ng mga nasa posisyon, wala pa ring mababago.

Ang paghahangad nila ng puwesto sa gubyerno, isang prebilihiyong makapaglingkod ay huwad na dahilan (puwedeng hindi lahat, pero karamihan), bagkus ay kapangyarihan at salapi ang pakay.

Ang isang lider na me kapangyarihan, kailangan may pamumunuan at tagasunod, pero kaakibat nito and hangarin ng lider na kabutihan at kakuntentuhan para sa kanyang pinamumunuan. Ngunit ngayon, kung hindi maliit na prioridad ang pinagkakaloob sa mga tao, ay tunay na hangaring pansarili lamang ang pakay ng nasa posisyon.

Kaya ako nakakasimpatiya sa mga tulad kong karaniwang Pilipino, bagamat tila naging manhid na sila kung ano ang kalakaran sa Pilipinas ngayon.

Sa isang mapangutyang pangyayari: anya ni Tandang Etoy, gusto niyang laging me bagyo sa Pilipinas, dahil doon lamang siya nakakatikim ng corned beef - dahil sa relief foods. Malungkot na katotohanan.

Halimbawa, kung wala o maliit na subsidiya sa pagtatanim dahil walang sapat na pondo ang pamahalaan, magtitiyaga lang ang magsasaka sa sariling-sikap na humiram ng salapi sa kapitalistang institusyon; kung nabalitaang nangungurakot ang opisyal, ipinagkikibit-balikat na lang dahil iyon na ang naging normal (o kung meron mang aksiyon, halos palabas na lamang, dahil pare-parehong nagtatakipan), isa pa, mahirap ibangga ang ulo sa pader.

Napakabuti at mapagtiis ang pangkaraniwang Pilipino upang gamitin at samantalahin ang kanilang kalagayan para sa kagustuhang manatili sa kapangyarihan at magkamal ng yaman na galing sa kaban ng bayan ang ibang nasa posisyon.

Madaling makuntento at masayahin - kung sa ingles, resilient and having a profound sense of happiness ang Pilipino - basta me pagakain sa maghapon at kasama ang pamilya, masaya na. Hindi ito panlilibak, pero ito talaga ang hinahangaan ko sa aking mga kababayan.

Ang problema lang nawala na ang sense of bearing ng karamihan sa atin at nalimutan na ang karapatang magtanong kung ano ang kahulugan ng "buhay ay langit sa piling mo" bilang Pilipino. Filipinos deserve so much better than what they are into right now!

"Land, with its glorious sun, of peace and love" (Lupa ng araw, ng luwalhati’t pagsinta), hindi ito isang panaginip; kung magmumula lang sa mga nasa posisyon at sila ang magiging halimbawa, abot-kamay na ito.

Kung ating aalalahanin, yung mga Romanov ng Rusya, kaya napatid ang linya ng paghahari nila at nagkaroon ng madugong rebolusyon ng mga Bolshevik, dahil na rin sa matagal na pagtitiis ng mga peasants nito, at ang hindi pagre-relinquish ng kapangyarihan sa panahon ng panganganib ng buhay niya at ng kanyang Royal family (ang Tsar naman ay may moral na kadahilanan kaya hindi siya nag-abdicate ng trono niya. Isa ng malayong paksain para sa panulat nito).

Hindi na natin kailangan ng rebolusyon, bagkus kailangan lang, tunay na pagbabago sa mga nasa puwesto at kapangyarihan. Alisin na ang pagkakapit-tuko kung alam nilang hindi na sila nakakapagsilbi ng maayos sa ating kababayan, at apuhapin sana nila ang mahihirap at pangkaraniwan nating kababayan. Karapatan naman nilang guminhawa rin ang buhay, hindi lang sila.

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Ipinagpag sa taas at marahang dumuyan sa ihip

Sa tuktok kong hayag ay iyong maingat na dampi

Payapa, tahimik...ngunit kapos ka sa buhay

Darang sa lamig kong balintataw, nais kang kalaguyuin,

Ngunit kapagdangan nanatili ka pa ring walang buhay...

Nakakasawa ka!

Ang mala-bangkay mong haplos, gusto kong maparam

Ngunit ano pa ang kakayanan ko?

Sumagad ka na sa aking kalamnan at buto

Ang tamis mo sa paningin na ikaw ay damahin

Ngunit sa ilalim ng balat ko ay itinatatwa kita

Pikit-mata, taun-taon ako sa iyo ay naaakit

Kaya hiniling ko sa dalangin

Sana sa susunod mong pagdalaw

Ako'y hindi na maakit sa banal mong kulay.

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I thought I had seen the best around Europe, but over here the more you explore, the more you are surprised. The experience was simply beyond description, which incidentally reminds me one of Tom Hanks famous lines: "Life is like a box of chocolate, you'll never know what you're going to get!". And so I say, traveling is much the same because at the conclusion of our journey that year, Rome came out as a mouth-watering fine dark chocolate, much to our surprise.

(Vatican City - a travel journal excerpt)

We started hitting our way going to Rome at almost midnight; a schedule we chose for practicality and convenience reasons. As soon as we located our private cabin in the train and after putting away our luggage overhead, my eye lids surrendered to the heaviness of it. Within seven hours of travel from Venice to Rome in that wee hours of December, our bodies found a much needed rest, albeit temporarily.

With the train starting to slow down, I was able to glance at the terminal signage, "Roma Termini". It was between eight and nine in the morning.

Once we disembarked and started heading in the eastward direction, a bathing bronze sunlight had expanded and flooded the whole expanse of the train platform we were walking towards to. We never escaped from its inviting warmth, but it worked out good enough nevertheless as we braved a rather chilly winter breeze dampening at our exposed cheeks as if it was trying to welcome and assert its presence to every visitor of this glorious city.

Once we refreshed ourselves, we went for light breakfast in one of the restaurants at the terminal. Later, I found out that we still need to make one more inter-city connection to reach the city proper, and so we walked down further into this complex underground subway system until finally arriving at "Tiburtina" station. From there, we would begin treading the ground where Emperor treaded and where Roman soldiers marched.

All the excitement was beginning to build-up within me, eventhough I realised shortly that another ride from city bus was needed to get to St. Peter Square. It was the initial place a guide had agreed to meet us.

The additional 15-minute ride from bus seemed brief and not enough as I began to be helplessly fixated at the city's classic artwork, which is its own self, really - seeing the city's centuries-old structure exhibiting grandiosely their intricate facade reminiscent of its glorious past architecture.

Even the crowd was a treat to watch: a group of veil-clad nuns with rosary beads on their hands crossing pedestrian lane; a seemingly hurried tourist with camera dangling on his neck trying to catch a cab; a captivating busker demonstrating his musical prowess to thick layers of people watching around him, etc.

You see, Rome, admittedly is a city with numerous awe-inspiring stationary attractions, but its transient people, tourists especially, is equally fun to watch as well - this, while our bus slowly did its duty to bring us to our destination amidst the busy and crowded streets of Rome in that early morning.

The sun had just moved up from the horizon so lazily, and so the sunlight emitted came short to cover the wide open area of St. Peter Basilica Square at that moment, except of course from few strikes of sunlight that daggered through and in between big pillars of the Square’s colonnade. TO BE CONTINUED...

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Oo nga pala...

binuksan na naman muli, pahina sa maraming taon kong ipinalagi

yung nagdaang mga taon ng tagumpay at pagkadismaya

bibitbitin ko ba? o ititiklop ko na lang at di na bubuksan pa?

ngunit paano nga ba...?

mahirap mabatid ang hinaharap, kung ang kahapon di ko man lang malingap

pagkatuto ko di matutunton, kapag mata di ko man lang inilingon

tiyak may aral na kapupulutan at sinag pa ring masusulyapan

sa ibayo nang nakaraan, di ko man kailangan ng tingnan

ganito siguro...

ipagpapasalamat ko na lang kaya, mga biyayang sa taas ay tinamasa

yung pagkadismaya at kabiguang natamo

ihahagis ko na lang at ipapatianod sa agos

ganun din ang bitbit na himutok

iiwan ko na lang at lalagyan ng tuldok.

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(Manila, Philippines - 2006)

This travel is unlike those I have written so far. Our visit to the Philippines was mainly to see our families and folks, but I’m sure, my story about it would be interesting to some who’s been following my travel journal.

To avoid busy travel for Christmas season that year, my wife and I decided to offset our travel to the Philippines at least a month earlier from Christmas. It was around the first week of November 2006 when my wife went ahead of me. I followed her three weeks later. As usual, I took a direct flight from Vancouver to Manila. It was one of those unbearably long flights as Philippine Airlines 747 aircraft had to cross the Pacific 14 hours. This has always been the shortest flight available, otherwise the only choice one could have was to sit in longer flights with connection via either Hongkong, Tokyo, Seoul or LA before arriving to Manila.

It was Friday morning when I landed to Manila. With a connecting flight still to catch going to Legazpi City, I rushed towards Cebu Pacific counter to have my flight and e-ticket verified which I brought with me, but only to be told that the flight I was going next was canceled.

Explaining reasonably how appalled I was about it since I confirmed the flight less than 24 hours ago, the counter employee looked very apologetic listening to me intently.

Now with his fingers busily tapping the keyboard and the headset phone backed to his ears calling someone else, I realised that he was trying to be on top of the situation. The effort I saw from him was good enough to further diffuse my already settling disappointment.

“Sir, I could arrange a seat for you with PAL (Philippine Airlines) flying to Cebu. They will have a short-stop at Legazpi. Only thing, though sir, is you may have to rush at this time to the gate!” he explains in a face beaming with anticipation that I agree.

Getting a quick glimpse at domestic Security Screening area and at my wristwatch, I then factored-in the situation, and answered him with ease this time, “You know what? Put me in to your next available flight tomorrow!”

With hundreds of passengers lined up over at Security Screening and a 30-minute window to catch the flight to hop in, I didn’t think for a second that I could beat that!

Next thing I knew, at around nine o’clock in the morning, I was in a shuttle service going to a hotel in upscale Makati. They provided me a one-night accommodation as my next flight was scheduled the next morning. This, of course, is a standard procedure for any airline.

After settling inside my suite, I phoned my wife who - with my in-laws, were about to leave the house to pick me at Legazpi Domestic Airport. The whole excitement was replaced with dismay, but the situation was understood after a short while.

I went to bed, then woke up and showered, proceeded to a restaurant to have late lunch. That was around three in the afternoon.

After that, I left and explored Makati’s Greenbelt area. The afternoon sun was out and the weather was generally balmy, but thanks to an ecologically-friendly and inter-connected design of the area, I didn't have any indication of heatstroke as the temperature was maintained comfortably cool all throughout.

Greenbelt, as most of you would know, is located in Manila’s corporate and financial hub. So it is not unusual to find fine restaurants, top-of-the-line shopping malls, best bars, a good amount of foreigners - except that, it’s much crowded - a good crowd nevertheless - than one would expect. To be continued…

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HE WAS one of the artists I admire most, he was near-perfect human to me in many ways, but this limited mindset totally obscured the objective I should have had afforded him - as his admirer: empathy and understanding. I realised he's only human like me after all.

As a young boy back in the late 70's, there was this sad song which lyrics I did not understand fully, but a soulful and innocent voice got ingrain in my early mind. It was the song about a mouse pet. Ben was my first opportunity to hear of his talent.

In my high school years back in the Philippines, at the height of MTV's popularity and its infancy, I had the privilege to take a glimpse of the person behind the voice. This time more imperviously impressed to my teenage consciousness: the backward moon-walking, the letter-initialed baseball jacket (he wore in Thriller video), the crisp fedoras, the aviator sunglasses, the wet-look hair, the single white glove. His Thriller music video was stunning.

His music was to become the centre of conversation with friends; and at typical times, his dance moves became a common ground among us in bragging-off new-found moon-walking prowess. At year-end school parties, he was with us - through a reverberating high-pitched stylistic voice in Billie Jean or Smooth Criminal single from our high school's rented sound system.



Years past, and the spell I was under lost its power. My interest with him waned and so memories with friends and our happy hanging out fluttered away with times. I endeavoured a path obligated to me by the norm rules and expectation of society: further education, career, family, etc.

In the late nineties and onward to 2000's, the innocent fascination I carried toward him as a teenager would rekindle, but this time, it was painted with regret, coldness, and the mood dispirited. My own ignorance on how I should understand one's frailty was muddled; such needed capacity at that time seemed diminished, if not absent.

He made moves regrettable to many and few understood him. I tended to be one of the former. Fame had enabled him and somehow veered him off from normalcy, which fed his eccentricity (to the eyes of many) and consequently, his recluse and temporary downfall.

He's dead now. The golden torch had finally lit-out for him. But for me, I would still hum as I listen to Ben in my idle time, and if my feet would allow me to moonwalk away to the tune of Billie Jean once in while, I will - just to remind myself, that Michael Jackson, the collective epitomy of our 80's vibrant youth - is still around in his songs and in my consciousness.

"You are hard to love, but hard not to"*...goodbye Michael Jackson!

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*quote adapted from Larry King

“I die without seeing the dawn break of my country…You who are about to see it, greet her…do not forget those fallen during the night!”. This is an excerpt I borrowed from one of the last chapters of Dr. Jose P. Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere.

The thought-provoking and ominous words of dying Elias to young Basilio. In effect, it was the author speaking. The same words that crept up to my senses as a reader.

“Could Rizal ever know - over a century later since he wrote the book - that it is going to be the same plea we need to hear as a nation? Why wouldn’t he?” I wondered. Whenever I see the current political backwardness, I couldn’t help but sigh my disappointment. Those who are living in the Philippines know what I am talking about. We are so back seated now from among countries claiming democracy as their foundation.

The first carpet to freedom was laid to us more than a century ago. We lost it a few times along the way, and yet we always managed to grab that well-fought beacon every time.

In 1986, the first People Power I became part of was so sweet. It was our moment and we owned it; we were the centrepiece of the world, the envy of other nations who haven’t had the taste of democracy, and the cut-out pattern of our neighbouring countries whose wish was to emulate us. As a young student back in that year, my dreams profoundly flew along with the single collective success of our nation. One of my proudest moments of being a Filipino. Singly, I am not the right person to be asking for a better Philippines. I may have the right to wish for it though, as Filipino-born.

By his sacrifice, a deep-seated image in Rizal's mind was the freedom to be loved and to be treasured by his future countrymen, and not one being degraded through a display of betrayal, repugnance, and disarray. As one with a common pulse and blood with the rest of Filipinos, we need to revive the sense of patriotism and real love for our country.

Because the minds cannot comprehend changes that our senses first have to recognise. Changes have to come from our inner and heart-felt desires in order for them to work - by then our minds will be the cog in-synch with our senses. We need a nationalistic sensibility at work!

Whatever walks of life we have right now, there’s always this common string that binds us, and an imaginary torch that we all are carrying passed down from the time Rizal drew his last breath in Bagumbayan.

In essence, let us be responsibly mature while enjoying the freedom of democracy our previous and current generations fought hard for, and not to be so consumed with self-fulfilling political desires, especially those who are in it.

We cannot afford to have the joke on us, can we?

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Started counting the chime of a rustic grandfather clock
It's never too late, got more hours to buy
Sun's still on its peak, must enjoy mid-day's hypnotic light
A patina's effect of success must obscure
The failures built by swathe of ignorance

Keep on counting hours...
nine, ten o'clock, eleven o'clock, noon time...
What has been done? What are the roads taken so far?
What's filled the stomach? Did new tricks help?

Lofty souls trample the dull and meek
Singular I's, me's, and mine's
Gorging at noontime high while
siesta rolls the eyes in boredom and disgust

In time, the orphaned toll of chimes will resound
At three o'clock, "What was learned?"
At four o'clock, "What was shared?"
At five o'clock, What made you?"
At six, "Who exactly are you?"

Forbearing afternoon sun will soon shy away
A chill of the still night's breeze will shroud
and descend with a dreadfulness of loneliness...
creeping, slithering, haunting

The soul is now tired, the courage has dissipated
cramping legs has finally surrendered to the cradling of a
plush memory-foam mattress. "What exactly have one become?"
"What make-up was created to deserve a sound sleep?"

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Kababata sa kamusmusan

i
Bumalik sa aking alaala, kabataang nakalagak sa saya; Sa mga punong inakyatan, sa bundok na nilakaran;
Mga lupang basa sa ulan, doon kami'y nagtakbuhan, pati naghabulan;
Sa aming baril-barilan, pananghali-ay nalimutan;
Pagkatapos nang hapunan, kami pa rin ang nagtutubigan.

ii
O kay ligaya lagi na, sa mga kaibigang laging kasama;
Mundo na aming ginalawan, noong kami ay bata pa;
Salat sa ilang bagay, ngunit busog sa pagkakaibigan;
Walang masama, walang-wala sa mga kaibigang kahanga-hanga.

iii
Lumakad si kalendaryo, humakbang mga taon ng todo-todo;
Binagtas ko at nang aking mga kaibigan, palad na ibinigay nang Maykapal;
May bumuo ng pamilya, may umakit ng asawa, meron din namang nag-isa;
Tagumpay at pagkadismaya, naiukit din sa aming talam-paa.

iv
Diyes sentimos at walang halaga, anuman ang natahak ng bawat isa;
Hindi ito ang tumakal at sumukat, sa aking pamantaya'y lahat sapat;
Walang nabago, walang naiba, kundi ang aming mga kara;
Sa aming muling pagkikita-kita, tiyak ko na ang pagkasaya-saya;
'Pagkat yaong panahon ng kamusmusan, amin na namang pag-uusapan.

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Magmula nung ako ay nagkamalay, sa mga nakita ko noon sa magulang ko at sa nakatatanda kong mga kapatid, nagkaroon na ako ng ideya kung ano ako sa mundong ito. Mahirap, masikip, at magulo ang kinalakihan kong buhay. Yung maitim kong balat ang makapagsasabi sa iyo kung gaano kasangsang ang lugar na kinalakhan ko. Sa pagdaan ng panahon, nasanay na rin akong tanggapin kung ano ako. Ngunit madalas pa rin sa minsan, pakitingin ko ay mababang-uri kami sa iba.

Mistula kaming busabos. Palagi kaming nang-aapuhap may masimot lang na ipangtawid-gutom. Isa sa mga natatandaan ko noon, sa maliit na isdang bangus na nakulimbat ni nanay doon sa lugar na kinalakihan namin, kadalasan pinag-aagawan pa namin itong magkakapatid, at dahil ako ang bunso at pinakamaliit, lagi akong nauubusan ng makakain. Malamnan lang ang tiyan ko, sinisimot ko na lang ang tirang pagkain nila. ‘Yung mga nakatatanda kong kapatid, basta bundat na wala na silang pakialam sa akin.

Sa totoo lang, tinabangan na rin ako sa kanila…noon. Pero nung nangawala na yung iba sa kanila, mas natanggap ko na kung ano ako at ano ang layunin ko sa buhay. Samakatuwid, mas kilala ko na ang sarili ko ngayon at nauunawaan ko kung bakit ganoon ang ugaling-likas ng aking mga kapatid.

Hindi ko lang matanto kung sa pangatlong kabilugan ng buwan ng taong yun nang huli kong makita si tatay. Hindi na siya bumalik, bata pa kasi ako noon kaya walang namutawing hinanakit sa loob ko, pero siyempre bata, hinanap-hanap ko pa rin ang presensiya niya ng mga ilang araw matapos ang hindi niya pag-uwi sa amin. Dinadala na ni nanay sa tiyan ang mga nakababata kong kapatid noong nawala si tatay. Pero pakiwari ko, tila hindi naman dinamdam masyado ni nanay ang paglisan ni tatay.

Batid ko sapul magkamalay ako, sa buhay namin kailangan kaming magbanat nang buto at magsumikap (na makipaglaban) para hindi kami magutom…

Nalimutan ko pala, kailangan mo ring maging matapang at matigas dahil sa lugar namin, paglalamya-lamya ka, ikaw ang talo! Minsan nga sa katangian pang ito nakasalalay ang buhay mo. Totoo yun, walang biro.

Ilan nang kasing-idad kong kabarkada sa lugar namin ang nakita kong nakalutang sa me tabing-ilog noon, walang buhay at pinagpipistahan ng mga kauri ko. Nakatihaya, butas ang tiyan, yung mga mata dahil malambot, inuka at wala na.

Wala naman akong pinagkaiba doon sa sawing-palad kong mga kabarkada, lilisan din ako. Yun nga lang, ako matitigok para sa kasiyahan ng mga tao. Sabi nila kinyentos pesos ang kada timbang namin, at depende rin sa laki namin.

Kagabi pa pala itinali ang mga sipit ko - matapos akong pinawin sa maputik at masangsang na pispand na kinalakhan ko, nung mag-amang nagbebenta sa amin (natiklo kasi ako at nakasama sa lambat nang pawalan at igahin nila ang tubig palabas sa pispand). Ang hinala ko ginagawa ito ng mga tao tuwing makailang buwan ng taon, kapag sapat na sa timbang at puwede ng ibenta iyung mga kauri kong bangus at sugpo.

Kanina pa ring umaga ako ipinag-aalukan at nakabitin sa mahabang dos por dos na kokonat lamber dito sa tabi ng highway pa-Maynila at dahil sa init ng araw, panay na ang bula ng bibig ko. Ang lintek na binatilyong tindero, inihian pa kami! Paliwanag kasi sa kanya, at narinig ko, ‘yung ihi daw ng tao ay kahalintulad ng tubig-alat kaya mas magtatagal pa kaming buhay at sariwa! Kasama ko sa bungkos ay yung dalawa kong kapatid at yung matandang ina nung kahabulan ko noon dun sa maputik na ibayo ng pispand.

Yung kaninang bumaba sa kotse ay ang kuripot na intsik na interesado kaming pakyawin! Panay na ang tawad sa presyo, panay pa ang sulyap sa malaman kong sipit! Ang dalawa kong kapatid, ayun hilo na sa ilang ulit na kaba-baligtad ng walanghiyang singkit na yun para siguruhin lang kung babae o lalaki yung kapatid ko. Ha ha ha!

Siguro habang binabasa ninyo ito ngayon ay naihagis na ako sa kumukulong tubig sa kaldero ng intsik na yun at ang maitim kong balat ay napalitan na ng pulang kulay; ngunit ganoon nga ang silbi namin sa mundong ito. At siguro kung may “seafoods heaven” ay nandoon na ako ngayon, kasama ni tatay at ang mga nakatatanda kong kapatid (na naunang nabitag sa lambat, piho ko), at ng iba pang mga kauri kong lamang-dagat…

Salamat,

Ang binatilyong alimango

—–

Footnote -

It seems unusual at first, but I came up with this write up because when I was a child, I was too absorbed to the idea of how different life it must be for these crustacean creatures (i.e., the alimango) existing only for human consumption. I wrote it in an open-letter approach and created some partially revealing climactic part to build up exciting episodes. Hope you like it! - the author

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Rome, Italy - part 2

(cont’d…) I thought I’ll be able to finish my blog about our European tour around this time. It’s close to approaching the anniversary and yet I still have lots of vivid memories of the travel I’d like to put in writing - photos do not suffice, not to mention my recent travel write ups that may continue to pile up. Well, there’s the fun in it, to continually write and enjoy every moment of it!

So, going back to my story about our Rome/Vatican City experience.

After alighting from our bus, we walked towards Saint Peter Square, the place where we suppose to meet our contact.

It was just in early morning, so the chill was still in the air. The early sun did not help to alleviate the cold breeze caressing our cheeks; its rays, blocked by these massive pillars standing in a semi circle array forming an impressive colonnade on both sides of the Square. Statues of the saints atop these pillars are strikingly awesome, by the way.

We kept our clothing layers intact amidst some brave souls doing their morning jog. Actually, there was only a few of them, so I could say that we were geared more appropriately as most of the crowd was.

Regardless of one’s religious persuasion, no one can deny the positive impression the Square could provide since this is where all Roman Catholic major undertakings happen, i.e. Papal Christmas or Easter blessing. The Square can accommodate thousands.

Setting aside the cliche description for Square’s immensity and grandness, the oversize mock-up manger in between the Basilica and the obelisk is worth mentioning as it suggests a recently held Christmas commemoration activity prior to our visit.

Some Polizi were in sight; with big waves of visitors gradually pouring into the Square and the Basilica, I figured they’ll be handy for those inquiring visitors.

The line build-up going inside Saint Peter Basilica was a bit heavy by this time, I observed. So we agreed to have a glimpse of its interior at sunset rather than force ourselves to line way down at the end of the long queue. We opted to head elsewhere instead.

Fast forward to the end of that day, the queue going inside almost quadrupled! And this was near the day’s closing of the Basilica. We missed our chance. That event could only tell us how much visitors this city could have in any given day!

From among 11 cities we visited with this tour, Rome somehow topped the list with the most volume of visitors; Paris and Venice numbers may pale in comparison, I suspect. Although it was just a personal observation, I was, nevertheless impressed at the statistics.

As much as we enjoyed the spectacular Square, I still feels drawn in to come back here someday and witness for myself the awesome interior of the Basilica.

Realising the huge amount of time we would spend to explore the whole city, and our slim chance to be back in the afternoon to Florence, I asked our guide if he could help us find a hotel to stay for the night, just in case we run short of time. As always, same-day booking could cause a fortune in Rome… TO BE CONTINUED.

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Friendster, Blogger, Facebook, Multiply, MySpace, MyBlogLog, etcetera: our lives have been compounded with these social networking sites nowadays. From a technology that had, from its infancy, was considered a big wonder if one was to have an email address ready to be fired-away to friends, and could explore the internet after so much waiting for the browser to open up; we, indeed, have come a long way.

This is another threshold in our wired world that could either make or break us. Time and technology has truly evolved at this unprecedented stage of the century. For the better or for the worst, I'm not sure since it is all relative. Thus, I do not not intend to point finger at anyone because even myself is either a victim or a beneficiary of this revolutionary technology.