CLIMBING A SHIP
April 26, 1994
I counted a total of 72 steps before I reached the office of the Captain. It was at the fourth floor of the big ship where I was supposed to examine Captain Rodrigo C. Failina for his insurance application with Sunlife of Canada.
There was nothing extra-ordinary except for the fact that it was my first time to climb a ship passing through a hanging “rope steps”.
From the breakwater side of Roxas Boulevard near the U.S. Embassy Building, Lori Chamoro, the insurance agent, hired a motor boat that brought the two of us to the big ship. It was a thrilling experience for one who is not quite acquainted with the sea and the ship. I didn’t realize that Manila was that “pretty” as seen from the center of the sea. I regretted not having brought my camera.
After Captain Failina I examined two more applicants then we were offered a good lunch. I was impressed by the cleanliness of every portion of the ship.
Before lunch I had a chance to go to the comfort room located near the office of the Captain. Sandwiched between the two areas is the bedroom.
It was my first time to see “live” cabins, climb stairs of a ship and left feeling good immediately after lunch. The day made me f eel so good and happy.
THE BALANCE OF NATURE
June 2, 1993 – 7:30 p.m.
The brownout is scheduled at 12 midnight to 7:00 a.m. but suddenly the light is off this early. It is followed by rain and thunder and lightning. There is thunderstorm, the reason for the sudden power cut-off.
At long last the rain is here. It will be a little cooler, everyone shall be relieved but then flood and its curse is eminent. New problems will sprout out. There will be flooding left and right. Lahar flow will threaten many communities in Central Luzon. Typhoons will be coming one after another. Plantations will be destroyed. I don’t know if I will rejoice or be frightened. It is all the same. That is life.
From the ordinary perception of ordinary mortals, daily happenings are seldom truly satisfactory. It is difficult to understand why calamities are happening every once in a while. People are confused.
But from the Divine Point of View, from the heavenly distance, all happenings are necessary for keeping order and balance in the universe. What we are experiencing here on planet earth is only a tiny spark compared to the activities going on in the vastness of galaxies and quasars. Let us leave it all to God.
Friday, February 29, 2008
TAPATAN
“TAPATAN”
Dec. 1, 1993 – 10:00 p.m.
A while ago, an artist friend of mine, Henry Braulio gifted me with a painting (oil on canvass) of TAPATAN,the brook at the back of our house in Alfonso, Cavite. It is just behind the Sacred Heart School of Cavite (formerly Cavite Highland Institute where I finished my high school in 1952).
It is called Tapatan (straight passageway) because it is used to be the shortcut (meaning, straightway) from Alfonso to Mendez. Immediately upon receiving the gift, nostalgic memories came in procession back to my mind.
Most of my childhood was spent in that brook together with my playmates. It was where we used to take a bath, wash our clothes and went picnicking during summer time when the flow of water was obstructed by piles and piles of stones and woods to create artificial (or is it natural) swimming pool. In that kind of pool I learned how to swim, to catch frogs and small fishes. With other children we played a lot in that summer pool.
During the Japanese Occupation, people of Alfonso, together with some evacuees from other places used the riverbank as temporary hiding place for safety purposes. It was then like a Barrio Fiesta with every family having a makeshift stall very similar to the Barrio 'tiangge'.
It was also the brook (we call river) where Padre Luis MOjica , according to old folks, used to pass even when it was flooded. Padre Luis possessed anting-anting (amulet) that allowed him to walk on water by just waving a white handkerchief and throwing 'talupak' (the base of a dried palm leaf).
I remember how almost all the boys crowded the riverbank when some American evacuees took their bath in their bathing suits. During the Feast of St. John the Baptist every June 24th of the year Ilog Tapatan was full of picnickers. There was no available transportation then that families just gather in nearby brooks like Tapatan to spend their recreational activities.
Henry’s painting captured the beauty, the serenity and even the mystery of Tapatan. The predominantly green shade is very relaxing, as if possessing a strong healing vibration that rejuvenates the onlookers.
It was made alive by the presence of an old woman washing clothes. It used to be crowded with other “maglalaba” (laundry women) especially during Saturdays. Gone are those days and gone are the noises of the playing children.
There are now signs of pollution. Garbage is beginning to pile up on every side of the pathway to the brook. Even the water is no longer crystal clear. Floating on it are plastic containers and other rotting trash.
For posterity, Henry Braulio was able to put on canvass the original mystery of Ilog Tapatan. I will cherish his gift forever.
Dec. 1, 1993 – 10:00 p.m.
A while ago, an artist friend of mine, Henry Braulio gifted me with a painting (oil on canvass) of TAPATAN,the brook at the back of our house in Alfonso, Cavite. It is just behind the Sacred Heart School of Cavite (formerly Cavite Highland Institute where I finished my high school in 1952).
It is called Tapatan (straight passageway) because it is used to be the shortcut (meaning, straightway) from Alfonso to Mendez. Immediately upon receiving the gift, nostalgic memories came in procession back to my mind.
Most of my childhood was spent in that brook together with my playmates. It was where we used to take a bath, wash our clothes and went picnicking during summer time when the flow of water was obstructed by piles and piles of stones and woods to create artificial (or is it natural) swimming pool. In that kind of pool I learned how to swim, to catch frogs and small fishes. With other children we played a lot in that summer pool.
During the Japanese Occupation, people of Alfonso, together with some evacuees from other places used the riverbank as temporary hiding place for safety purposes. It was then like a Barrio Fiesta with every family having a makeshift stall very similar to the Barrio 'tiangge'.
It was also the brook (we call river) where Padre Luis MOjica , according to old folks, used to pass even when it was flooded. Padre Luis possessed anting-anting (amulet) that allowed him to walk on water by just waving a white handkerchief and throwing 'talupak' (the base of a dried palm leaf).
I remember how almost all the boys crowded the riverbank when some American evacuees took their bath in their bathing suits. During the Feast of St. John the Baptist every June 24th of the year Ilog Tapatan was full of picnickers. There was no available transportation then that families just gather in nearby brooks like Tapatan to spend their recreational activities.
Henry’s painting captured the beauty, the serenity and even the mystery of Tapatan. The predominantly green shade is very relaxing, as if possessing a strong healing vibration that rejuvenates the onlookers.
It was made alive by the presence of an old woman washing clothes. It used to be crowded with other “maglalaba” (laundry women) especially during Saturdays. Gone are those days and gone are the noises of the playing children.
There are now signs of pollution. Garbage is beginning to pile up on every side of the pathway to the brook. Even the water is no longer crystal clear. Floating on it are plastic containers and other rotting trash.
For posterity, Henry Braulio was able to put on canvass the original mystery of Ilog Tapatan. I will cherish his gift forever.
JESSICA + NO MAN IS AN ISLAND
J E S S I C A
April 30, 1994
Throwing away a live rabbit is not as easy as one would imagine. It takes much courage, determination and emotional detachment to do so. To begin with, it all started when the suitor of one of my daughters gifted her with a baby rabbit in a cage a few Christmases ago. It was a very exciting gift complete with food pellets and instructions on how to deal with it.
At first the rabbit which was named Jessica was very shy and wouldn’t eat. But as days passed-by it became greedier and messier. It grew bigger and bigger until the cage turned too small for it. Something must be done. But my daughter wasn’t concerned enough, it seemed. Her suitor promised to transfer it to a bigger cage but he didn’t because to do so he would have to use his car in transferring it from Alabang to Bel-Air and he just didn’t want to mess his car with his own gift.
One night I decided to free Jessica from her already unfriendly cage to a vacant lot where there are plenty of grass and banana plant. The idea was so it won’t starve while feeling at home too.
The following morning my son visited the plalce where we left the rabbit the night before and there it was exactly catatonic at the spot where we left her.
Jessica must have been shocked by the experience that either she didn’t know what to do or must have thought that she was still inside her cage. I went back with my son to see what happened. She moved a little distance where it was shady but she was shivering as if asking for compassion.
The “rabbit” in me must have been so touched that I brought it back home. The experience must have taught Jessica a lesson. Now, even if we open her cage she would stay inside or if she goes out for a while she returns and stays inside.
NO MAN IS AN ISLAND
Nov. 29, 1993
Social Obligation is one big burden that any social being has to face every so often. From baptismal to burial ceremonies and all the other festivities in between, one is expected by the “cruel society” to give his share. In return it is all the same except that it is the other way around.
Social Obligation is nothing but give and take – a cycle that goes on and on and wherever you are and whatever your status in life is. It is the obligation that can sometimes go too far or a bit too difficult to handle. But I think that is the penalty of being good or popular (like a politician) or by just being anybody.
No man is an island, so we always say. Each one has to get involved one way or another, each one has to share what he can to others.
Oftentimes it becomes a burden when you have to sponsor so many weddings, respond to so many invitations, buy so many raffle tickets and it is the time to pay the children’s matriculation fees and other school expenses.
But life has to go on. Social responsibility is everybody’s problem. It may not be as hard among affluent families but as a general rule it is society’s curse.
April 30, 1994
Throwing away a live rabbit is not as easy as one would imagine. It takes much courage, determination and emotional detachment to do so. To begin with, it all started when the suitor of one of my daughters gifted her with a baby rabbit in a cage a few Christmases ago. It was a very exciting gift complete with food pellets and instructions on how to deal with it.
At first the rabbit which was named Jessica was very shy and wouldn’t eat. But as days passed-by it became greedier and messier. It grew bigger and bigger until the cage turned too small for it. Something must be done. But my daughter wasn’t concerned enough, it seemed. Her suitor promised to transfer it to a bigger cage but he didn’t because to do so he would have to use his car in transferring it from Alabang to Bel-Air and he just didn’t want to mess his car with his own gift.
One night I decided to free Jessica from her already unfriendly cage to a vacant lot where there are plenty of grass and banana plant. The idea was so it won’t starve while feeling at home too.
The following morning my son visited the plalce where we left the rabbit the night before and there it was exactly catatonic at the spot where we left her.
Jessica must have been shocked by the experience that either she didn’t know what to do or must have thought that she was still inside her cage. I went back with my son to see what happened. She moved a little distance where it was shady but she was shivering as if asking for compassion.
The “rabbit” in me must have been so touched that I brought it back home. The experience must have taught Jessica a lesson. Now, even if we open her cage she would stay inside or if she goes out for a while she returns and stays inside.
NO MAN IS AN ISLAND
Nov. 29, 1993
Social Obligation is one big burden that any social being has to face every so often. From baptismal to burial ceremonies and all the other festivities in between, one is expected by the “cruel society” to give his share. In return it is all the same except that it is the other way around.
Social Obligation is nothing but give and take – a cycle that goes on and on and wherever you are and whatever your status in life is. It is the obligation that can sometimes go too far or a bit too difficult to handle. But I think that is the penalty of being good or popular (like a politician) or by just being anybody.
No man is an island, so we always say. Each one has to get involved one way or another, each one has to share what he can to others.
Oftentimes it becomes a burden when you have to sponsor so many weddings, respond to so many invitations, buy so many raffle tickets and it is the time to pay the children’s matriculation fees and other school expenses.
But life has to go on. Social responsibility is everybody’s problem. It may not be as hard among affluent families but as a general rule it is society’s curse.
CHRISTINE AND PHILLIP
C H R I S T I N E
April 26, 1994
Christine is in her early twenties but already she is a very active insurance agent. She drives an air-conditioned red Tamaraw and besides her at the front seat is a mess of everything: files of papers, handbag, attaché case, a cellular phone, a can of lady fingers and a lot of other things.
To give me space she gathered towards her everything, unmindful that the cell phone and the can o f cheese curls fell down under the seat.
She put on the radio in full blast and started singing with it, stopping every now and then to talk to me about anything under the sun.
She alternately nips a piece of lady finger, then a piece of cheese curls whether singing with the radio or talking to me.
She invites me often to examine her insurance applicants. Very seldom does she come on time but I enjoy her company. She is a Korina Sanches look-alike who laughs like a childe but her ambition and ideas are far advanced compared to others of her age.
She couldn’t figure out how to be a mother when she finally marries and have a baby of her own.
It is thrilling to be with Christine, not only because she is beautiful but because she is “carelessly” responsible.
PHILLIP
May 6 , 1994
Only 17 but Phillip is already burdened by more than 17 responsibilities. Being the eldest in a family of 12, Phillip has matured early.
His father, a contractor is out of the house most of the time and Phillip often takes over the responsibilities. He drives for his mother who is working as insurance agent. He also alternates with her in bringing and fetching his four sisters who go to Woodrose School, a exclusive school for girls at Ayala Alabang Village. He also does this to his three brothers who also go to another school for boys at Alabang Hills.
They live at Merville Park, Parañaque and from there he accompanies his sisters to Ayala Alabang then goes to Southridge School at Alabang Hills.
In spite of the many responsibilities that include watching his sisters and guarding them, Phillip manages to keep himself abreast with the barkadas without necessarily being affected by some of their negative values.
Phillip shows good breeding and a good sense of humor. He is not handsome by ordinary standards but he emits a kind of aura that attracts. I am writing about him because very few boys of his age can tackle the responsibilities that Phillip carries on his shoulders.
April 26, 1994
Christine is in her early twenties but already she is a very active insurance agent. She drives an air-conditioned red Tamaraw and besides her at the front seat is a mess of everything: files of papers, handbag, attaché case, a cellular phone, a can of lady fingers and a lot of other things.
To give me space she gathered towards her everything, unmindful that the cell phone and the can o f cheese curls fell down under the seat.
She put on the radio in full blast and started singing with it, stopping every now and then to talk to me about anything under the sun.
She alternately nips a piece of lady finger, then a piece of cheese curls whether singing with the radio or talking to me.
She invites me often to examine her insurance applicants. Very seldom does she come on time but I enjoy her company. She is a Korina Sanches look-alike who laughs like a childe but her ambition and ideas are far advanced compared to others of her age.
She couldn’t figure out how to be a mother when she finally marries and have a baby of her own.
It is thrilling to be with Christine, not only because she is beautiful but because she is “carelessly” responsible.
PHILLIP
May 6 , 1994
Only 17 but Phillip is already burdened by more than 17 responsibilities. Being the eldest in a family of 12, Phillip has matured early.
His father, a contractor is out of the house most of the time and Phillip often takes over the responsibilities. He drives for his mother who is working as insurance agent. He also alternates with her in bringing and fetching his four sisters who go to Woodrose School, a exclusive school for girls at Ayala Alabang Village. He also does this to his three brothers who also go to another school for boys at Alabang Hills.
They live at Merville Park, Parañaque and from there he accompanies his sisters to Ayala Alabang then goes to Southridge School at Alabang Hills.
In spite of the many responsibilities that include watching his sisters and guarding them, Phillip manages to keep himself abreast with the barkadas without necessarily being affected by some of their negative values.
Phillip shows good breeding and a good sense of humor. He is not handsome by ordinary standards but he emits a kind of aura that attracts. I am writing about him because very few boys of his age can tackle the responsibilities that Phillip carries on his shoulders.
BIRTHDAY
BIRTHDAY
January 9, 1994 – 8:00 a.m.
“Time markers – such as birthdays (anniversaries or the onset of a new yea) – a re gifts of an eternal and infinite God to mortal and finite man. These occasions allow us to – or make us – pause and take stock of the past, know where we stand at the moment and plan for the future.
This is important because, in he fast-paced world, we might be rushing along without realizing that wee veered off the path; looking back, we could get our bearing right again. Or we might be burdened that we become discouraged; looking back we can see what we have achieved and b e encouraged by it”. – Dr. L. Pantoja
Today is my fifty-ninth birthday. I woke up early, or rather I was subconsciously awakened as early as 1:00 a.m. by I don’t know what force.
During the previous years I used to go to Quiapo Church to celebrate my birthday with the Black Nazarene but since Mercedes Building (where my office clinic used to be located) was burned down recently, I didn’t plan to go to Quiapo this time. Instead I made a visit to the Blessed Sacrament at 6 :00 a.m. at the Madrigal Center’s Prayer Room. Then I proceeded to St. Gerome Church where I heard the 6:30 Mass.
Aside from Paul who drive me t o St. Gerome Church, others in the house were still sleeping. There were no early greetings and kisses even from my wife, who is always tired anyway to wake up early just to greet an aging husband.
When I arrived home from the Church the telephone was ringing, I was excited that someone must have remembered my birthday… but no, the long distance call was from a friend of Paul. The next phone call was also for him.
I graciously accepted the fact that I am old enough to be remembered on my birthday. After all I am not a celebrity of sort. Somehow I could enjoy my privacy.
After breakfast Paul greeted me Happy Birthday, then Jonathan then Brinna, then Beth, then Bel, not one after the other but just casually as if only forced by circumstances because they happen to see me or because they needed to talk to me about other things.
Noontime I enjoyed listening to my tape-recorded birthday in Lagos , Nigeria in 1979.
At around 11:00 a.m. Mrs. Severino (Nana , the ever thoughtful sweet old lady) greeted me by phone. She made my day! Thanks NANA.
January 9, 1994 – 8:00 a.m.
“Time markers – such as birthdays (anniversaries or the onset of a new yea) – a re gifts of an eternal and infinite God to mortal and finite man. These occasions allow us to – or make us – pause and take stock of the past, know where we stand at the moment and plan for the future.
This is important because, in he fast-paced world, we might be rushing along without realizing that wee veered off the path; looking back, we could get our bearing right again. Or we might be burdened that we become discouraged; looking back we can see what we have achieved and b e encouraged by it”. – Dr. L. Pantoja
Today is my fifty-ninth birthday. I woke up early, or rather I was subconsciously awakened as early as 1:00 a.m. by I don’t know what force.
During the previous years I used to go to Quiapo Church to celebrate my birthday with the Black Nazarene but since Mercedes Building (where my office clinic used to be located) was burned down recently, I didn’t plan to go to Quiapo this time. Instead I made a visit to the Blessed Sacrament at 6 :00 a.m. at the Madrigal Center’s Prayer Room. Then I proceeded to St. Gerome Church where I heard the 6:30 Mass.
Aside from Paul who drive me t o St. Gerome Church, others in the house were still sleeping. There were no early greetings and kisses even from my wife, who is always tired anyway to wake up early just to greet an aging husband.
When I arrived home from the Church the telephone was ringing, I was excited that someone must have remembered my birthday… but no, the long distance call was from a friend of Paul. The next phone call was also for him.
I graciously accepted the fact that I am old enough to be remembered on my birthday. After all I am not a celebrity of sort. Somehow I could enjoy my privacy.
After breakfast Paul greeted me Happy Birthday, then Jonathan then Brinna, then Beth, then Bel, not one after the other but just casually as if only forced by circumstances because they happen to see me or because they needed to talk to me about other things.
Noontime I enjoyed listening to my tape-recorded birthday in Lagos , Nigeria in 1979.
At around 11:00 a.m. Mrs. Severino (Nana , the ever thoughtful sweet old lady) greeted me by phone. She made my day! Thanks NANA.
BASTARDIZED
BASTARDIZED
Dec. 21, 1993
As I walk around the village early after supper I noticed the different colorful Christmas decorations. All is colorful and bight but 85% projects the modern or bastardized version of Christmas. Snows, rein deers, Santa Clauses are more common. Even the lanterns are the more expensive ones. There are few 'Belens' and the traditional 'parols' are almost none existence.
Our neighbor who just moved in two months ago is quite excited: Complete with 'kapis' lanterns hanging on the big fire tree in front of the house. With the lanterns are multi-colored twinkling lights in rhythm with the Christmas carols that play continuously. Over the fence are few replicas of the London Honor guards, guarding a crib complete with hay minus Baby Jesus. Behind the fence, on the wall, hang the expensively embroidered three kings. Near the entrance door is a very big Christmas tree.
The other house at the corner is even more glamorous. Giant poinsettias, life sized Santa Clause climbing a ladder to the roof, a decorated bicycle overloaded with gift packages, multi-colored lights everywhere. But where are the angels and Jesus, the Christmas celebrants?
At the other corner next block is a semi abstract painting of the manger. Bright and colorful but blurred. There is another corner house; a few blocks away, where all the trees around are showering with million lights. There are giant lanterns and giant porcelain temple dogs at the windows but I couldn’t find Jesus. There is a garden decorated with the drama of Jesus’ birth but what are Santa and Rudolf doing there?
I was touched by another big corner house with the tableau of the Holy Family complete with the animals, the angels and the three kings.
Our outside decoration consists of a basket full of plastic fruits and scalloping white lights. It is balanced on the opposite side by a rectangular brown cardboard vertically arranged. White Christmas bulbs surround it. The whole rectangular board is full of multi-colored folded stars and flowers.
A few houses are not decorated with anything. They must have a good reason why they don’t show colors and lights. Christmas must be in their hearts but they look like dark clouds on starry skies. I wonder if there were also dark clouds during the first Christmas. But I am sure it was bight.
Dec. 21, 1993
As I walk around the village early after supper I noticed the different colorful Christmas decorations. All is colorful and bight but 85% projects the modern or bastardized version of Christmas. Snows, rein deers, Santa Clauses are more common. Even the lanterns are the more expensive ones. There are few 'Belens' and the traditional 'parols' are almost none existence.
Our neighbor who just moved in two months ago is quite excited: Complete with 'kapis' lanterns hanging on the big fire tree in front of the house. With the lanterns are multi-colored twinkling lights in rhythm with the Christmas carols that play continuously. Over the fence are few replicas of the London Honor guards, guarding a crib complete with hay minus Baby Jesus. Behind the fence, on the wall, hang the expensively embroidered three kings. Near the entrance door is a very big Christmas tree.
The other house at the corner is even more glamorous. Giant poinsettias, life sized Santa Clause climbing a ladder to the roof, a decorated bicycle overloaded with gift packages, multi-colored lights everywhere. But where are the angels and Jesus, the Christmas celebrants?
At the other corner next block is a semi abstract painting of the manger. Bright and colorful but blurred. There is another corner house; a few blocks away, where all the trees around are showering with million lights. There are giant lanterns and giant porcelain temple dogs at the windows but I couldn’t find Jesus. There is a garden decorated with the drama of Jesus’ birth but what are Santa and Rudolf doing there?
I was touched by another big corner house with the tableau of the Holy Family complete with the animals, the angels and the three kings.
Our outside decoration consists of a basket full of plastic fruits and scalloping white lights. It is balanced on the opposite side by a rectangular brown cardboard vertically arranged. White Christmas bulbs surround it. The whole rectangular board is full of multi-colored folded stars and flowers.
A few houses are not decorated with anything. They must have a good reason why they don’t show colors and lights. Christmas must be in their hearts but they look like dark clouds on starry skies. I wonder if there were also dark clouds during the first Christmas. But I am sure it was bight.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
TOUPEE
TOUPEE
Nov. 26, 1993 – 9:00 p.m.
Wearing a toupee in reality is a lot of sacrifice. But once you have started it, it is not very easy to throw away without throwing yourself away with it. It is like being successful in riding a wild tiger and unable to get out afterwards without damaging oneself.
I started wearing toupee in 1970 exactly 23 years ago and since then I experienced many difficulties in my everyday existence. Just to cite a few examples I’ll begin at home. Early in the morning I have to wear it on waking up for I don’t want the maid and the driver to see me bald. It must be in the right position if I have to maintain my identity.
During windy days and while commuting in public transports I already have that feeling of uneasiness not knowing how my hair looks at a certain moment. I solved this by using a full wig instead of my original partial hair piece that merged with my remaining natural hair. I also changed my style from the old-fashioned parted to the carefree bang type, which I can comb with my fingers even away from a mirror.
The changing in my style was in itself a bit traumatic. I looked different to the surprise of my friends. But it was flattering to hear that I looked ten or twenty years younger.
When everybody got used to it I found it difficult to remove, hence I am still a victim and a slave of a bunch of artificial hair. Inside the church when attending a mass I usually stay at the very back or last row as I feel too conscious when someone is staring at my nape from behind.
What is embarrassing though is when talkative and inquisitive children suddenly notice it and seriously ask: “Why is your hair like that?” One time while eating on the presidential table together with other wedding sponsors, someone placed a big electric fan facing me, thinking that she was doing me a favor, unaware how jittery I felt.
When I reach the age of sixty, I plan to offer a simple party, invite some good friends then announce something like this: “In life we all have to lie once in a while. In life also I learned that there are two kinds of lie. One is by not telling the truth and two by covering the truth. I have my own share of lying which, I now want to confess to you. For years I did not only tell many lies. I made you all believe that I am not bald. So now I will remove the cover and henceforth you see nothing but the truth about my golden crown”.
After t hat I will have the options whether to keep my head clean-shaved at all times or allow my scanty gray hair to grow wild and free. As of now, I am for the first option, meaning keeping my head clean-shaved at all time but when the time comes that my hands start quivering for what ever cause, who will do the daily shaving?
So, back to the original idea of the necessity of having
available, a modern Home for the Aged. I wish I will have the chance
To avail myself of that kind of service before I die.
Nov. 26, 1993 – 9:00 p.m.
Wearing a toupee in reality is a lot of sacrifice. But once you have started it, it is not very easy to throw away without throwing yourself away with it. It is like being successful in riding a wild tiger and unable to get out afterwards without damaging oneself.
I started wearing toupee in 1970 exactly 23 years ago and since then I experienced many difficulties in my everyday existence. Just to cite a few examples I’ll begin at home. Early in the morning I have to wear it on waking up for I don’t want the maid and the driver to see me bald. It must be in the right position if I have to maintain my identity.
During windy days and while commuting in public transports I already have that feeling of uneasiness not knowing how my hair looks at a certain moment. I solved this by using a full wig instead of my original partial hair piece that merged with my remaining natural hair. I also changed my style from the old-fashioned parted to the carefree bang type, which I can comb with my fingers even away from a mirror.
The changing in my style was in itself a bit traumatic. I looked different to the surprise of my friends. But it was flattering to hear that I looked ten or twenty years younger.
When everybody got used to it I found it difficult to remove, hence I am still a victim and a slave of a bunch of artificial hair. Inside the church when attending a mass I usually stay at the very back or last row as I feel too conscious when someone is staring at my nape from behind.
What is embarrassing though is when talkative and inquisitive children suddenly notice it and seriously ask: “Why is your hair like that?” One time while eating on the presidential table together with other wedding sponsors, someone placed a big electric fan facing me, thinking that she was doing me a favor, unaware how jittery I felt.
When I reach the age of sixty, I plan to offer a simple party, invite some good friends then announce something like this: “In life we all have to lie once in a while. In life also I learned that there are two kinds of lie. One is by not telling the truth and two by covering the truth. I have my own share of lying which, I now want to confess to you. For years I did not only tell many lies. I made you all believe that I am not bald. So now I will remove the cover and henceforth you see nothing but the truth about my golden crown”.
After t hat I will have the options whether to keep my head clean-shaved at all times or allow my scanty gray hair to grow wild and free. As of now, I am for the first option, meaning keeping my head clean-shaved at all time but when the time comes that my hands start quivering for what ever cause, who will do the daily shaving?
So, back to the original idea of the necessity of having
available, a modern Home for the Aged. I wish I will have the chance
To avail myself of that kind of service before I die.
TRICK OR TREAT
THRICK OR TREAT
October 31, 1993 10:00 p.m.
Trick or Treat is a western tradition practiced every Halloween which falls on the eve of All Saints Day, on Nove3mber 1st. Because there are many foreigners living in Ayala Alabang Village, the ritual is not only allowed but even encouraged instead of the traditional “Pangangaluluwa”.
Filipinos easily adapted to Trick or Treat and this year there are so many participants coming from other villages. Children as well as some adults go around in masks and costumes saying Trick or Treat to every house. Candies and other goodies are given to them.
And just to show the reader how many came to observe it, the three thousand pieces of candies that we offered one each were consumed before 7:00 p.m. It turned out that our street, Caliraya was the busiest and the only one colorfully teeming with multi colored costumes. The reason is because at the corner of Caliraya and San Bernardino the owner gave out a very good trick as they always do every year. This time, atop their roof is a flying carpet with live Alladin and his lady waving at hundreds of onlookers.
Other houses have their own “spooky” Halloween decorations. I was told that before, the decorations consisted only of masks and printed ghost s available at bookstores.
Last year was my first time to be here at Alabang because I used to stay in the province every Halloween. So, last year I created some spoofs made out of things available at home. (1).A Witch riding her flying broomstick; (2). A “manananggal’s” lower half of her body; 3) A stuffed toy that I dressed with black cloth and hanged to simulate e someone who committed suicide; (4 ) A figure of ‘Kamatayan” whose back was turned behind. (This was later stolen because we left it outside the house.). This year so many houses followed my example. Many displayed personally created spoofs.
Next year, if the association will not find way to somehow control or limit the participants it will no longer be enjoyable. The coming of big groups from far away villages not to mention children of “lavanderas” and maids as well as anybody who has identification card to enter the village mess out the otherwise colorful tradition.
This could not be an exclusive affair and we should not deprive other children of the joy and the fun that they experience during the bewitching hours, but when the whole village becomes too crowded with anyone from anywhere, it is no longer nice.
October 31, 1993 10:00 p.m.
Trick or Treat is a western tradition practiced every Halloween which falls on the eve of All Saints Day, on Nove3mber 1st. Because there are many foreigners living in Ayala Alabang Village, the ritual is not only allowed but even encouraged instead of the traditional “Pangangaluluwa”.
Filipinos easily adapted to Trick or Treat and this year there are so many participants coming from other villages. Children as well as some adults go around in masks and costumes saying Trick or Treat to every house. Candies and other goodies are given to them.
And just to show the reader how many came to observe it, the three thousand pieces of candies that we offered one each were consumed before 7:00 p.m. It turned out that our street, Caliraya was the busiest and the only one colorfully teeming with multi colored costumes. The reason is because at the corner of Caliraya and San Bernardino the owner gave out a very good trick as they always do every year. This time, atop their roof is a flying carpet with live Alladin and his lady waving at hundreds of onlookers.
Other houses have their own “spooky” Halloween decorations. I was told that before, the decorations consisted only of masks and printed ghost s available at bookstores.
Last year was my first time to be here at Alabang because I used to stay in the province every Halloween. So, last year I created some spoofs made out of things available at home. (1).A Witch riding her flying broomstick; (2). A “manananggal’s” lower half of her body; 3) A stuffed toy that I dressed with black cloth and hanged to simulate e someone who committed suicide; (4 ) A figure of ‘Kamatayan” whose back was turned behind. (This was later stolen because we left it outside the house.). This year so many houses followed my example. Many displayed personally created spoofs.
Next year, if the association will not find way to somehow control or limit the participants it will no longer be enjoyable. The coming of big groups from far away villages not to mention children of “lavanderas” and maids as well as anybody who has identification card to enter the village mess out the otherwise colorful tradition.
This could not be an exclusive affair and we should not deprive other children of the joy and the fun that they experience during the bewitching hours, but when the whole village becomes too crowded with anyone from anywhere, it is no longer nice.
UNIQUE AND BITTER PILL
UNIQUE
Nov. 12, 1993 – 10:00 a.m.
After indulging quite lengthily on aging pains and aging fears I now want to shift myself on the positive end of life’s pole. I’ll talk and write about aging gains and aging cheers. There are of course, countless.
Only a happy Old,Old or Over Old can truly exude genuine dignity. It is therefore not good for someone maturing chronologically to be pre-occupied with self-pity. This will result only to poor or diminished self-esteem. One must always maintain a high opinion about oneself. After all there is nobody else in this world exactly like you. God purposely created you so different from everybody else so you will be proud of yourself.
What you have learned cannot be unlearned anymore. Your wisdom is your personal brand. Nobody else is as wise as you are. What you know may be different from what others know but you certainly know thousands of things that others do not know.
It is very pleasant to realize that I am unique; that I am different from all the rest of mankind; that in this world there is only one like me. God must have a very good reason for creating me as I am. At my age I have my own special mission in life.
BITTER PILL
Nov. 14, 1993 – 7:30 p.m.
The facts of life, many times, are bitter pills that are very difficult to swallow.
Yesterday, someone related to me the very sad experience of once very popular and very rich doctor. His name during the height of his career was deafening as a thunder. Because of his immense earnings he was considered very successful. He was actually the envy of many of his colleagues in the medical profession.
Through the earnings of his hospital he was able to invest in many other businesses such as banks, lumber and hardware, real estate, say it and he had it. All his children were living a good life.
But one day he had stroke”, was paralyzed and since then everything in his life got paralyzed too. His spoiled children and grand children all grew up unconcerned, carefree and non-compassionate. All his equally popular friends, started leaving him. He was left to the care of paid servants. Even his wife did her things left and right not at all trying to improve the family situation.
When he shared his life story and what happened to him to that someone who told me the story, he was crying, full of bitterness, perhaps regrets. He even attempted to commit suicide.
What he experienced is a great lesson to remember.
Nov. 12, 1993 – 10:00 a.m.
After indulging quite lengthily on aging pains and aging fears I now want to shift myself on the positive end of life’s pole. I’ll talk and write about aging gains and aging cheers. There are of course, countless.
Only a happy Old,Old or Over Old can truly exude genuine dignity. It is therefore not good for someone maturing chronologically to be pre-occupied with self-pity. This will result only to poor or diminished self-esteem. One must always maintain a high opinion about oneself. After all there is nobody else in this world exactly like you. God purposely created you so different from everybody else so you will be proud of yourself.
What you have learned cannot be unlearned anymore. Your wisdom is your personal brand. Nobody else is as wise as you are. What you know may be different from what others know but you certainly know thousands of things that others do not know.
It is very pleasant to realize that I am unique; that I am different from all the rest of mankind; that in this world there is only one like me. God must have a very good reason for creating me as I am. At my age I have my own special mission in life.
BITTER PILL
Nov. 14, 1993 – 7:30 p.m.
The facts of life, many times, are bitter pills that are very difficult to swallow.
Yesterday, someone related to me the very sad experience of once very popular and very rich doctor. His name during the height of his career was deafening as a thunder. Because of his immense earnings he was considered very successful. He was actually the envy of many of his colleagues in the medical profession.
Through the earnings of his hospital he was able to invest in many other businesses such as banks, lumber and hardware, real estate, say it and he had it. All his children were living a good life.
But one day he had stroke”, was paralyzed and since then everything in his life got paralyzed too. His spoiled children and grand children all grew up unconcerned, carefree and non-compassionate. All his equally popular friends, started leaving him. He was left to the care of paid servants. Even his wife did her things left and right not at all trying to improve the family situation.
When he shared his life story and what happened to him to that someone who told me the story, he was crying, full of bitterness, perhaps regrets. He even attempted to commit suicide.
What he experienced is a great lesson to remember.
MEDICAL EXAMINER
MEDICAL EXAMINER
Nov. 24, 1993
Although I am now running clinic at Alabang Town Center and at home in Ayala Alabang Village, my main preoccupation is as Medical Examiner of Insurance Companies such as Philamlife, Sunlife of Canada, Aetna, Manulife. As Medical Examiner I am exposed to a variety of personalities as exemplified by the agents and the clients. There are so many colorful and interesting experiences and I enjoy them all because those experiences keep me young.
Most agents are intelligent and well mannered though there are those who are very assertive as if they own everything. Some are very insensitive to the needs of the doctor as a person and a few are simply stupid. There was this wife of an agent who called me requesting for the medical examination of her husband’s client. She gave me the address but I didn’t know where the village was located. When I told her about my predicament she said it was my duty to locate the place. That I cannot refuse because that was what I sworn to. So, very calmly I just told her: “I will not go there”. I never did swear to anybody that I will go to a place I don’t know where.
Another agent requested If I could be picked at 5:30 a.m. since the clients were going abroad that day and that was their only free time. So I agreed but just to discover that the reason she brought me there that early was to convince the clients to undergo medical examination as “the doctor is already here”. The clients got mad not only at the agent but also at me. Still another agent picked me up to examine a client in the place where the client was working. The scheduled time for examination was also the start of the client’s meeting. So, I waited one hour until the meeting was finished but the agent who was to bring me home couldn’t be located. After another one and one half hour I have to commute back home feeling very bad.
A very unethical agent reported me to a lawyer because instead of giving my medical report directly to the main office I submitted it to a nearby branch office. I cannot forget that agent who shouted in front of my house at 11:00 p.m. because there was brownout and the doorbell wasn’t working. She brought with her two tipsy clients direct from a drinking spree. She was also the agent who never cancels appointment even when the client cannot come on scheduled time and date. How can a forget that agent who reported to the medical director that I do my examinations in the presence of my wife who was connected to another insurance company.
But most of the agents became my friends. The teacher in me keeps on sharing with them my thoughts and experiences on our way to the client’s house and back.
The clients, on the other hand, are a rainbow of different personalities. Mention one kind of trait whether bad or good and for sure I have met one like him or her.
Nov. 24, 1993
Although I am now running clinic at Alabang Town Center and at home in Ayala Alabang Village, my main preoccupation is as Medical Examiner of Insurance Companies such as Philamlife, Sunlife of Canada, Aetna, Manulife. As Medical Examiner I am exposed to a variety of personalities as exemplified by the agents and the clients. There are so many colorful and interesting experiences and I enjoy them all because those experiences keep me young.
Most agents are intelligent and well mannered though there are those who are very assertive as if they own everything. Some are very insensitive to the needs of the doctor as a person and a few are simply stupid. There was this wife of an agent who called me requesting for the medical examination of her husband’s client. She gave me the address but I didn’t know where the village was located. When I told her about my predicament she said it was my duty to locate the place. That I cannot refuse because that was what I sworn to. So, very calmly I just told her: “I will not go there”. I never did swear to anybody that I will go to a place I don’t know where.
Another agent requested If I could be picked at 5:30 a.m. since the clients were going abroad that day and that was their only free time. So I agreed but just to discover that the reason she brought me there that early was to convince the clients to undergo medical examination as “the doctor is already here”. The clients got mad not only at the agent but also at me. Still another agent picked me up to examine a client in the place where the client was working. The scheduled time for examination was also the start of the client’s meeting. So, I waited one hour until the meeting was finished but the agent who was to bring me home couldn’t be located. After another one and one half hour I have to commute back home feeling very bad.
A very unethical agent reported me to a lawyer because instead of giving my medical report directly to the main office I submitted it to a nearby branch office. I cannot forget that agent who shouted in front of my house at 11:00 p.m. because there was brownout and the doorbell wasn’t working. She brought with her two tipsy clients direct from a drinking spree. She was also the agent who never cancels appointment even when the client cannot come on scheduled time and date. How can a forget that agent who reported to the medical director that I do my examinations in the presence of my wife who was connected to another insurance company.
But most of the agents became my friends. The teacher in me keeps on sharing with them my thoughts and experiences on our way to the client’s house and back.
The clients, on the other hand, are a rainbow of different personalities. Mention one kind of trait whether bad or good and for sure I have met one like him or her.
CAREER DEGENERATION
CAREER DEGENETRATION
AND AGING GAINS
Nov. 11, 1993
Since a week ago no insurance clients came for medical examination. It was probably because last month was contest month in Sunlife of Canada and the agents squeezed the insurance market to the bones.
But Philamlife is on its year end rush and I am expecting many insurance applicants… but there were none. Sign of difficult times ahead? Well, the whole country is in bad shape but it is not the reason why President Ramos went to U.S.A. yesterday to start a two-week working visit. Private patients are also scarce. The other day I was called by Mex Robertson, an Australian, none followed afterwards.
Something must come out of this unhappy moment of my professional life. It must be good because one other hurting pain of aging is the inevitable pain of CAREER DETERIORATION.
Like it or not, one’s professional capabilities generally deteriorates and when the moment comes one must gracefully accept it or it will cause an intolerable depression. At this point I am bringing back my memory to those people whom I have helped professionally during my prime time. They were many but many of them are themselves deteriorating. The cycle of life must go on. Live and let live.
DEAFNESS runs strongly in our family. My share of it is beginning to tax my conversational ability. There are already many words that I cannot clearly understand when I am talking to someone. Even when watching a movie I cannot understand most of the thing said.
This is another aging pain that worries me. There are so many deaf members of my clan. While it is funny to listen to their conversations I am afraid to someday be the focus of that fun.
Between deafness and blindness I’ll always choose deafness, as it is better than the latter although h seeing and observing how deaf people get confused, jealous and temperamental gives me goose flesh.
Oh, come on. Hearing aids are available. In spite of some disadvantages they could compensate for all the worries.
I’ll surely hate to see my grandchildren shouting at my ears or making fun of me when my vision turned blurred. On the contrary it inspires me to anticipate that with all the aging pains both physical, emotional or psychological that may afflict me. I can always bank on my experience and wisdom. While there are aging pains, there are also aging gains.
Young people will flock to me for my stories. Researchers will approach me for historical facts. The youth will come around for counseling and advises, to correct facts, to ask for guidance or even spiritual directions.
Then all the aging pains shall be compensated and overcome by the many gains.
AND AGING GAINS
Nov. 11, 1993
Since a week ago no insurance clients came for medical examination. It was probably because last month was contest month in Sunlife of Canada and the agents squeezed the insurance market to the bones.
But Philamlife is on its year end rush and I am expecting many insurance applicants… but there were none. Sign of difficult times ahead? Well, the whole country is in bad shape but it is not the reason why President Ramos went to U.S.A. yesterday to start a two-week working visit. Private patients are also scarce. The other day I was called by Mex Robertson, an Australian, none followed afterwards.
Something must come out of this unhappy moment of my professional life. It must be good because one other hurting pain of aging is the inevitable pain of CAREER DETERIORATION.
Like it or not, one’s professional capabilities generally deteriorates and when the moment comes one must gracefully accept it or it will cause an intolerable depression. At this point I am bringing back my memory to those people whom I have helped professionally during my prime time. They were many but many of them are themselves deteriorating. The cycle of life must go on. Live and let live.
DEAFNESS runs strongly in our family. My share of it is beginning to tax my conversational ability. There are already many words that I cannot clearly understand when I am talking to someone. Even when watching a movie I cannot understand most of the thing said.
This is another aging pain that worries me. There are so many deaf members of my clan. While it is funny to listen to their conversations I am afraid to someday be the focus of that fun.
Between deafness and blindness I’ll always choose deafness, as it is better than the latter although h seeing and observing how deaf people get confused, jealous and temperamental gives me goose flesh.
Oh, come on. Hearing aids are available. In spite of some disadvantages they could compensate for all the worries.
I’ll surely hate to see my grandchildren shouting at my ears or making fun of me when my vision turned blurred. On the contrary it inspires me to anticipate that with all the aging pains both physical, emotional or psychological that may afflict me. I can always bank on my experience and wisdom. While there are aging pains, there are also aging gains.
Young people will flock to me for my stories. Researchers will approach me for historical facts. The youth will come around for counseling and advises, to correct facts, to ask for guidance or even spiritual directions.
Then all the aging pains shall be compensated and overcome by the many gains.
Monday, February 25, 2008
GRACEFUL AGING
GRACEFUL AGING
November 10, 1993 – 10:00 a.m.
The “growing pains” of aging are beginning to come my way. Literally, yes, there is mild swelling on my right ankle joint. Lately, I have been experiencing pricking sensations on both extremities, occasional numbness of the legs, mild stabbing pains on my back, frequent right-sided headache. Added to these, I am experiencing occasional hypertension up to 170/100, ++++ urine sugar, frequent uncontrollable sneezing and the usual abdominal discomforts and stomach troubles. I must be old. Yes, I am not afraid. Who is not old? Consider my recent category of aging:
Baby old……………………………40 to 49 Middle old……… 70 to 79
Under old……………………..50 to 59 Old old…………………..80 to 89
Early old……………………..60 to 69 Super old……………..90 to ++
I am still in my early old stage but must admit that sometimes it already hurts. Not the growing pains but the ISOLATION.
My son who used to come with me to the province every Saturday is now pre-occupied with “gimmicks” on weekends. My daughter who used to brisk walk with me round Maria Cristina loop in Ayala Alabang Village is always feeling tired to go with me now.
Many of my contemporaries are already gone. The new youth groups are indulging in entirely different matters that forcing oneself to merge with them only results to a kind of culture shock due to generation gap. That is why I am giving a second thought about my plan to organize a Senior Citizens Group to coordinate with the youth.
I felt this when I showed a rough Constitution and By-Laws to Rex Ferolino (the Youth’s Sectoral representative to the Municipal Council) and he seemed not to get interested or he simply refused to understand because he couldn’t imagine any project with the adult as plausible.
I once mentioned that growing old is fun. But that was during the mid-sixties when I was at the height of my involvement with the Inquiry Movement ( a youth movement in Alfonso, Cavite organized by me and was under my “moderatorship”). That was long ago and since then many things had happened. Many of my friends have died.
I was telling my daughter the other night (because she was complaining that she was not happy with her career). “Happiness depends on you. If you want to be happy you can be happy even if you are alone. You cannot demand everybody to adjust their lives to your attainment of happiness”. Now I am happy.
The other aging pain that creeps all over me is the pain of DETACHMENT. Sooner or later this will be necessary, for sooner or later and one by one my children will marry. They will form their own families. They will eventually decide to live in other houses of their own.
My wife and I will be left to our own selves. The occasion or the situation I hope will strengthen our unity but definitely we shall be missing our children.
I don’t expect them to be with us for no house is big enough for two families. I don’t expect them to be force to care for us. We don’t want to be dependent on our children. We want them to be free to tend their own families, rear their own children, correct their own mistakes as well as the mistakes they inherited from us or to apply whatever good thing they learned from us.
The balm of expectation however, easily relieves the pain of detachment. We shall be anticipating and expecting grandchildren – the living interest of our life time savings .
We are not sure how we are going to behave as grandparents but as much as possible we shall try not to meddle with their affairs unless on matters between life and death.
We shall probably be proud of our grandchildren and by the time we shall possibly be behaving like children our selves. Then that is the time we shall be qualified to enter the Kingdom of God.
November 10, 1993 – 10:00 a.m.
The “growing pains” of aging are beginning to come my way. Literally, yes, there is mild swelling on my right ankle joint. Lately, I have been experiencing pricking sensations on both extremities, occasional numbness of the legs, mild stabbing pains on my back, frequent right-sided headache. Added to these, I am experiencing occasional hypertension up to 170/100, ++++ urine sugar, frequent uncontrollable sneezing and the usual abdominal discomforts and stomach troubles. I must be old. Yes, I am not afraid. Who is not old? Consider my recent category of aging:
Baby old……………………………40 to 49 Middle old……… 70 to 79
Under old……………………..50 to 59 Old old…………………..80 to 89
Early old……………………..60 to 69 Super old……………..90 to ++
I am still in my early old stage but must admit that sometimes it already hurts. Not the growing pains but the ISOLATION.
My son who used to come with me to the province every Saturday is now pre-occupied with “gimmicks” on weekends. My daughter who used to brisk walk with me round Maria Cristina loop in Ayala Alabang Village is always feeling tired to go with me now.
Many of my contemporaries are already gone. The new youth groups are indulging in entirely different matters that forcing oneself to merge with them only results to a kind of culture shock due to generation gap. That is why I am giving a second thought about my plan to organize a Senior Citizens Group to coordinate with the youth.
I felt this when I showed a rough Constitution and By-Laws to Rex Ferolino (the Youth’s Sectoral representative to the Municipal Council) and he seemed not to get interested or he simply refused to understand because he couldn’t imagine any project with the adult as plausible.
I once mentioned that growing old is fun. But that was during the mid-sixties when I was at the height of my involvement with the Inquiry Movement ( a youth movement in Alfonso, Cavite organized by me and was under my “moderatorship”). That was long ago and since then many things had happened. Many of my friends have died.
I was telling my daughter the other night (because she was complaining that she was not happy with her career). “Happiness depends on you. If you want to be happy you can be happy even if you are alone. You cannot demand everybody to adjust their lives to your attainment of happiness”. Now I am happy.
The other aging pain that creeps all over me is the pain of DETACHMENT. Sooner or later this will be necessary, for sooner or later and one by one my children will marry. They will form their own families. They will eventually decide to live in other houses of their own.
My wife and I will be left to our own selves. The occasion or the situation I hope will strengthen our unity but definitely we shall be missing our children.
I don’t expect them to be with us for no house is big enough for two families. I don’t expect them to be force to care for us. We don’t want to be dependent on our children. We want them to be free to tend their own families, rear their own children, correct their own mistakes as well as the mistakes they inherited from us or to apply whatever good thing they learned from us.
The balm of expectation however, easily relieves the pain of detachment. We shall be anticipating and expecting grandchildren – the living interest of our life time savings .
We are not sure how we are going to behave as grandparents but as much as possible we shall try not to meddle with their affairs unless on matters between life and death.
We shall probably be proud of our grandchildren and by the time we shall possibly be behaving like children our selves. Then that is the time we shall be qualified to enter the Kingdom of God.
SECURITY MEASURES
SECURITY MEASURES
During Our Tour to Israel
During our briefings before the pilgrimage we were given guidelines and precautions. Things to do and not to do, things to avoid, and a lot of this and that about traveling on a pilgrimage.
One of the most detailed and emphatic was the one that concerned the security measures in Israel. Entering Israel was not as easy as having a passport and a ticket though a visa wasn’t required. There were so many dos and don’ts that somehow scared all of us.
We were told to pack our own luggage and to be sure that we remember completely what we packed. We were told to be ready for the individual interview by young security persons. We were even reminded to look straight into the eyes of the interviewer so as not to be suspected as concealing something.
When we arrived at the airport we were all very tense and doubly scared. And whenever I was tense or even just a bit scared butterflies in my stomach start flying to all directions. True enough when it was my turn I got greatly tensed and whenever I was feeling that way something very unhealthy usually happens.
When I was asked if I was bringing a sharp object, I thought of my Swiss knife and all of a sudden my intestinal tract started rolling . Gas quickly formed and quietly a very unwholesome smell was emitted. I thought I was going to melt.
The lady guard looked into my eyes and asked, “Did you pack anything rotten?”
“No”. I answered and pointing to myself, I continued, “I am the one rotten”. The lady guard tried to hide a dirty smile but immediately allowed me to go. All my other companions were completely astonished why I was at once released while they were still undergoing thorough grilling.
During Our Tour to Israel
During our briefings before the pilgrimage we were given guidelines and precautions. Things to do and not to do, things to avoid, and a lot of this and that about traveling on a pilgrimage.
One of the most detailed and emphatic was the one that concerned the security measures in Israel. Entering Israel was not as easy as having a passport and a ticket though a visa wasn’t required. There were so many dos and don’ts that somehow scared all of us.
We were told to pack our own luggage and to be sure that we remember completely what we packed. We were told to be ready for the individual interview by young security persons. We were even reminded to look straight into the eyes of the interviewer so as not to be suspected as concealing something.
When we arrived at the airport we were all very tense and doubly scared. And whenever I was tense or even just a bit scared butterflies in my stomach start flying to all directions. True enough when it was my turn I got greatly tensed and whenever I was feeling that way something very unhealthy usually happens.
When I was asked if I was bringing a sharp object, I thought of my Swiss knife and all of a sudden my intestinal tract started rolling . Gas quickly formed and quietly a very unwholesome smell was emitted. I thought I was going to melt.
The lady guard looked into my eyes and asked, “Did you pack anything rotten?”
“No”. I answered and pointing to myself, I continued, “I am the one rotten”. The lady guard tried to hide a dirty smile but immediately allowed me to go. All my other companions were completely astonished why I was at once released while they were still undergoing thorough grilling.
PLANET MARS NEAR EARTH
PLANET MARS ON AUGUST 27, 2003
7:00 p.m. Alfonso, Cavite
Nothing twinkles in the sky. It was cloudy all over due to a lingering typhoon. A friend texted me: “Mars is already visible. We are at Mico’s deck”. I quickly went to the place which was only a stone’s throw from my house. From there I saw a non-twinkling reddish-yellow light at the southeastern portion of the sky. It was like planet Venus, the evening star, during its brightest moment.
The reddish-yellow object dominating the cloudy sky was planet Mars now nearest to earth at only around 50 million kilometer distance (usually around 250 million kilometers).
The phenomenon that occurred 60,000 years ago and estimated by scientists to occur again in the year 2287 is truly spectacular.
I knew millions all over the world are staring at Mars, the next planet to earth from the sun. It is also considered the planet of war. Does the close encounter signify anything?
A lot of war is presently ongoing. War against poverty, war against vices, especially drug addiction. war against the NPA, the MNLF, the Abu-Sayyaf, the underground elements, the terrorists, the kidnappers, etc., etc.
Was it the coming closer of the war planet that caused all these wars or was it all these wars that attracted the war planet to come closer?
Some feared that the earth’s gravity might be strong enough to pull Mars to collide to Earth. Should that happen that would certainly end our world, which, could after all, be the best solution to all the turmoil we are now experiencing.
I waited until 1:30 a.m. the following morning hoping to see Mars on its brightest which, according to scientific reports should be as bright as half the full moon. I didn’t see such spectacle even with the aid of my binoculars. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God that Mars didn’t collide to earth.
No one living today would have another chance to observe such a wonderful heavenly event and I am so lucky to be a witness of this phenomenon.
7:00 p.m. Alfonso, Cavite
Nothing twinkles in the sky. It was cloudy all over due to a lingering typhoon. A friend texted me: “Mars is already visible. We are at Mico’s deck”. I quickly went to the place which was only a stone’s throw from my house. From there I saw a non-twinkling reddish-yellow light at the southeastern portion of the sky. It was like planet Venus, the evening star, during its brightest moment.
The reddish-yellow object dominating the cloudy sky was planet Mars now nearest to earth at only around 50 million kilometer distance (usually around 250 million kilometers).
The phenomenon that occurred 60,000 years ago and estimated by scientists to occur again in the year 2287 is truly spectacular.
I knew millions all over the world are staring at Mars, the next planet to earth from the sun. It is also considered the planet of war. Does the close encounter signify anything?
A lot of war is presently ongoing. War against poverty, war against vices, especially drug addiction. war against the NPA, the MNLF, the Abu-Sayyaf, the underground elements, the terrorists, the kidnappers, etc., etc.
Was it the coming closer of the war planet that caused all these wars or was it all these wars that attracted the war planet to come closer?
Some feared that the earth’s gravity might be strong enough to pull Mars to collide to Earth. Should that happen that would certainly end our world, which, could after all, be the best solution to all the turmoil we are now experiencing.
I waited until 1:30 a.m. the following morning hoping to see Mars on its brightest which, according to scientific reports should be as bright as half the full moon. I didn’t see such spectacle even with the aid of my binoculars. I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God that Mars didn’t collide to earth.
No one living today would have another chance to observe such a wonderful heavenly event and I am so lucky to be a witness of this phenomenon.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
ABSENCE OF DIALTONE
ABSENCE OF DIALT ONE
April 27, 1993 – 4:00 p.m.
Absence of dial tone in the telephone is not very uncommon but this time it has been many hours and no dial tone yet. I told Jonathan to go to the neighbor, dial 173 and inquire why our unit has no dial tone.
So, it was a case of temporary disconnection for being unable to pay the amount of P253.o4. It was 4:00 p.m. so I told Paul to hurry up and pay. I thought that Terry paid the bill before she went abroad.
Anyway it will be connected tomorrow yet. So, we cannot call Bee to greet her Happy Birthday. But tomorrow is not too late as time in America is several hours delayed behind Philippine time.
There is no blackout tonight. Power cut-off was done at daytime: 12:30 t0 4:30 p.
This experience is a welcome improvement but the non-functioning telephone will be a pest to interested callers.
8:30 p.m.: Lorenz (Bee’s Boy friend) came bringing with him Pizza pie from Angelinos’s to celebrate Bee’s birthday. One good characteristic of Lorenz is his thoughtfulness. I hope it is genuine.
So, Lorenz, Paul, Peter and I, celebrated Bee’s birthday complete with picture-taking. Afterwards Otan and Lorenz went to the country club to call Bee by long distance. They pretended they were only calling a friend nearby so that the twenty minutes long distance call was charge to Ayala Alabang Country Club. Wise guys, they are.
Lorenz invited Otan to play billiard at BF Homes, Paul watched TV in his room and I was left in the kitchen, dining with all the electric power that I needed. I felt a little drowned by the b rightness of the night. Blackout makes everything doubly bright when the lights become available.
With lights everywhere but no telephone ringing makes the surrounding somewhat eerie. The silence in the house is deafening. I could imagine how lonely most of the mansions in the village are. Most of them are occupied by few people, each one barely seeing each other. They communicate through the facilities of the intercom. It is not living but mere existence.
April 27, 1993 – 4:00 p.m.
Absence of dial tone in the telephone is not very uncommon but this time it has been many hours and no dial tone yet. I told Jonathan to go to the neighbor, dial 173 and inquire why our unit has no dial tone.
So, it was a case of temporary disconnection for being unable to pay the amount of P253.o4. It was 4:00 p.m. so I told Paul to hurry up and pay. I thought that Terry paid the bill before she went abroad.
Anyway it will be connected tomorrow yet. So, we cannot call Bee to greet her Happy Birthday. But tomorrow is not too late as time in America is several hours delayed behind Philippine time.
There is no blackout tonight. Power cut-off was done at daytime: 12:30 t0 4:30 p.
This experience is a welcome improvement but the non-functioning telephone will be a pest to interested callers.
8:30 p.m.: Lorenz (Bee’s Boy friend) came bringing with him Pizza pie from Angelinos’s to celebrate Bee’s birthday. One good characteristic of Lorenz is his thoughtfulness. I hope it is genuine.
So, Lorenz, Paul, Peter and I, celebrated Bee’s birthday complete with picture-taking. Afterwards Otan and Lorenz went to the country club to call Bee by long distance. They pretended they were only calling a friend nearby so that the twenty minutes long distance call was charge to Ayala Alabang Country Club. Wise guys, they are.
Lorenz invited Otan to play billiard at BF Homes, Paul watched TV in his room and I was left in the kitchen, dining with all the electric power that I needed. I felt a little drowned by the b rightness of the night. Blackout makes everything doubly bright when the lights become available.
With lights everywhere but no telephone ringing makes the surrounding somewhat eerie. The silence in the house is deafening. I could imagine how lonely most of the mansions in the village are. Most of them are occupied by few people, each one barely seeing each other. They communicate through the facilities of the intercom. It is not living but mere existence.
HOM E ALONE
HOME ALONE
May 3, 1993
The “girls” are still abroad. Otan stayed in the province. Paul went to Bacolod City. I am home alone. Jolen, our maid, Bonnie our boy helper and Loreto, our driver, are with me.
But yes, I am alone and the feeling is not easy to describe. It is a kind of emptiness that lingers and lingers and lingers. It is “lifelessness” that exists only in museums. Suddenly, I need noise, disorder, mess that only living beings can provide.
So, this must be how it feels to be an orphan, to be abandoned, to be deserted, to be forgotten. So, it is true that no man is an island.
Now I am beginning to fear the reality of aging. This is how it will be when the day comes. But God knows better. If he allows people to grow old, He will also provide their enjoyment. It is not easy to understand, if one is nearing that stage in his life but I am sure that God will be kind enough.
I have seen and met so many old and lonely folks and I feel depressed. Maybe they didn’t anticipate the moment of aging and so they found themselves old and unprepared.
Although I think even those who are prepared financially, intellectually and even emotionally are sometimes neglected. At this point I must stop thinking.
May 3, 1993
The “girls” are still abroad. Otan stayed in the province. Paul went to Bacolod City. I am home alone. Jolen, our maid, Bonnie our boy helper and Loreto, our driver, are with me.
But yes, I am alone and the feeling is not easy to describe. It is a kind of emptiness that lingers and lingers and lingers. It is “lifelessness” that exists only in museums. Suddenly, I need noise, disorder, mess that only living beings can provide.
So, this must be how it feels to be an orphan, to be abandoned, to be deserted, to be forgotten. So, it is true that no man is an island.
Now I am beginning to fear the reality of aging. This is how it will be when the day comes. But God knows better. If he allows people to grow old, He will also provide their enjoyment. It is not easy to understand, if one is nearing that stage in his life but I am sure that God will be kind enough.
I have seen and met so many old and lonely folks and I feel depressed. Maybe they didn’t anticipate the moment of aging and so they found themselves old and unprepared.
Although I think even those who are prepared financially, intellectually and even emotionally are sometimes neglected. At this point I must stop thinking.
HOPE FOR THE CHIRPING BIRDS
HOPE FOR THE CHIRPING BIRDS
May 20, 1993 – 4:10 p.m.
As usual no electricity and the summer heat is just terrible. It penetrates to the bones. There is no water; you cannot afford to be thirsty. The generators are on; their sounds are deafening.
Thanks God there are happy birds, playing, jumping, chirping, jumping from branch to branch round the neighbor’s mango tree. The earth is not dead after all. There is hope for survival. The government is not dead. Someone must be doing something to keep it alive. There are still many good reasons to live.
My wife is coming back home tomorrow. Good news. My daughters are coming back a week later. Good news. Robinson Alabang is planning to hire me as retainer physician. Good news. Someone is going to buy one of our lots. We can pay the bank. Good news. My two sons are behaving very well. Good news.
Rainy season is not far away. Water problems won’t stay. The plants will be happy. There will be more fresh air and less pollution, which means better health, happier life. Good news.
There are many good news and why are the papers printing bad ones? Why are the radios airing bad stories? Why are the Televisions showing brutalities and dirty news?
Well, who reads good news anyway?
DISABLED DRIVER
May 24, 1993 – 8:30 p.m.
There is light all over. Electricity was cut off earlier and was resumed earlier. There is nothing new however.
This afternoon I was picked by an insurance agent to examine a client. He was driving an owner type jeepney but that’s alright. What was unusual was the fact that the man was an amputee. His right arm was amputated to 1 inch below the elbow while his left hand had only the index finger intact.
I didn’t bother to ask why he was like that. It looked like an offshoot of a bad accident but it was very impressive and very inspiring to observe him driving very well. He had a driver’s license. I wonder how he wrote but he was a licensed insurance underwriter.
NOTE: I had a chance later to ask Rey Alvie (his name), about his disability. It was inborn (congenital) according to him.
I could feel the shame creeping all over me whenever Rey picks me with his jeepney to pick a client. Here I am anatomically complete but couldn’t even drive a car.
May 20, 1993 – 4:10 p.m.
As usual no electricity and the summer heat is just terrible. It penetrates to the bones. There is no water; you cannot afford to be thirsty. The generators are on; their sounds are deafening.
Thanks God there are happy birds, playing, jumping, chirping, jumping from branch to branch round the neighbor’s mango tree. The earth is not dead after all. There is hope for survival. The government is not dead. Someone must be doing something to keep it alive. There are still many good reasons to live.
My wife is coming back home tomorrow. Good news. My daughters are coming back a week later. Good news. Robinson Alabang is planning to hire me as retainer physician. Good news. Someone is going to buy one of our lots. We can pay the bank. Good news. My two sons are behaving very well. Good news.
Rainy season is not far away. Water problems won’t stay. The plants will be happy. There will be more fresh air and less pollution, which means better health, happier life. Good news.
There are many good news and why are the papers printing bad ones? Why are the radios airing bad stories? Why are the Televisions showing brutalities and dirty news?
Well, who reads good news anyway?
DISABLED DRIVER
May 24, 1993 – 8:30 p.m.
There is light all over. Electricity was cut off earlier and was resumed earlier. There is nothing new however.
This afternoon I was picked by an insurance agent to examine a client. He was driving an owner type jeepney but that’s alright. What was unusual was the fact that the man was an amputee. His right arm was amputated to 1 inch below the elbow while his left hand had only the index finger intact.
I didn’t bother to ask why he was like that. It looked like an offshoot of a bad accident but it was very impressive and very inspiring to observe him driving very well. He had a driver’s license. I wonder how he wrote but he was a licensed insurance underwriter.
NOTE: I had a chance later to ask Rey Alvie (his name), about his disability. It was inborn (congenital) according to him.
I could feel the shame creeping all over me whenever Rey picks me with his jeepney to pick a client. Here I am anatomically complete but couldn’t even drive a car.
AQUARIUM
AQUARIUM
April 23, 1993 – 1:30 p.m.
There is a promise of a brighter night. The power interruption starts this early and I hope that light will resume early too.
While waiting for a patient at our screened Lanai I chanced to look at Bel’s hexagonal aquarium. I watched the fishes swimming their ways through the water. These fishes are all very lucky. They are living in a carefully controlled environment supposedly clean and non-polluted. Although I wonder how they can live happily with the new environment. Of course there are scavenger fishes like the cat fishes and others doing the cleaning activities. With each other, they are creating a kind of balance that interacts with the plants, the “bubblers”, the filters and the balanced food that are fed to them on time.
If one can only be a fish even temporarily just to avoid the heat of summer perhaps everyone would like to experience life inside the aquarium. Or maybe if fishes could think, they are enjoying watching men who are out side their water medium even if men are perspiring uncomfortably.
It is probably not perfectly satisfactory. Everyone must be elevated to a higher dimension of existence and to attain that, death is necessary.
I think blackout and fishes are bringing me further away but I feel good that I can still think, that I can still analyze because that shows I am still very much part of this world.
One other thing that I learned from this blackout experience is the virtue of patience. As I am getting used to blackout I can feel that I am getting more patient not only about darkness but also about trials of daily existence. I am even patient about callers that don’t talk when I lift the phone.
Waiting for blackout is also becoming everybody’s habit. People get used to expecting a blackout so much that one night so many were “disappointed” when the awaited blackout didn’t come the whole night. I am afraid time will come we’ll crave for it.
April 23, 1993 – 1:30 p.m.
There is a promise of a brighter night. The power interruption starts this early and I hope that light will resume early too.
While waiting for a patient at our screened Lanai I chanced to look at Bel’s hexagonal aquarium. I watched the fishes swimming their ways through the water. These fishes are all very lucky. They are living in a carefully controlled environment supposedly clean and non-polluted. Although I wonder how they can live happily with the new environment. Of course there are scavenger fishes like the cat fishes and others doing the cleaning activities. With each other, they are creating a kind of balance that interacts with the plants, the “bubblers”, the filters and the balanced food that are fed to them on time.
If one can only be a fish even temporarily just to avoid the heat of summer perhaps everyone would like to experience life inside the aquarium. Or maybe if fishes could think, they are enjoying watching men who are out side their water medium even if men are perspiring uncomfortably.
It is probably not perfectly satisfactory. Everyone must be elevated to a higher dimension of existence and to attain that, death is necessary.
I think blackout and fishes are bringing me further away but I feel good that I can still think, that I can still analyze because that shows I am still very much part of this world.
One other thing that I learned from this blackout experience is the virtue of patience. As I am getting used to blackout I can feel that I am getting more patient not only about darkness but also about trials of daily existence. I am even patient about callers that don’t talk when I lift the phone.
Waiting for blackout is also becoming everybody’s habit. People get used to expecting a blackout so much that one night so many were “disappointed” when the awaited blackout didn’t come the whole night. I am afraid time will come we’ll crave for it.
HEARING DARKNESS
HEARING DARKNESS
Maya 10, 1993
You cannot see darkness or rather you cannot see in the dark, for darkness is blackness and blackness is the absence of all colors. But here in Ayala Alabang Village even if you are blind you will know if darkness or blackness is around. You can hear it for it is the newest status symbol… the sound of darkness.
With the coming of blackout comes along the popularity of electric generator. It is perhaps a real necessity but the sound that it generates is like the howling of a dangerous monster.
Whenever there is power interruption one has to cope with so many hazards. There are the hazards of bumping body parts on furniture and other objects; hazards of fires from candles and other emergency lamps; and lately the hazards of getting deaf for continuous bombardment of the ear drums by irritating sounds of powerful and modern generators.
I never thought that generator sound could be so scandalous until I was surrounded by all sorts of metallic vibrations emanating from them. How could I ever sleep with the summer heat, the mosquito bites and the generator noises?
Now everybody who is somebody must have a generator ... the harder the sound, the better, no matter how disturbed the neighbors are. Here in Ayala Alabang Village where almost everybody wants to be somebody, you just have to suffer the consequences if, like us, you happen to be an old-fashioned candle user.
Our family should be happy that our house is located in a place where our immediate neighbors are not using electric generators. But the houses next to them are all generator users and the noises from there seem to be coming just from the other side of the walls. I wonder how those people can tolerate the sounds of their own generators or maybe they are just tolerating them for they feel it is more important that people are aware that they can also afford the machine.
To some people, status symbol is more important than all its inconveniences.
Maya 10, 1993
You cannot see darkness or rather you cannot see in the dark, for darkness is blackness and blackness is the absence of all colors. But here in Ayala Alabang Village even if you are blind you will know if darkness or blackness is around. You can hear it for it is the newest status symbol… the sound of darkness.
With the coming of blackout comes along the popularity of electric generator. It is perhaps a real necessity but the sound that it generates is like the howling of a dangerous monster.
Whenever there is power interruption one has to cope with so many hazards. There are the hazards of bumping body parts on furniture and other objects; hazards of fires from candles and other emergency lamps; and lately the hazards of getting deaf for continuous bombardment of the ear drums by irritating sounds of powerful and modern generators.
I never thought that generator sound could be so scandalous until I was surrounded by all sorts of metallic vibrations emanating from them. How could I ever sleep with the summer heat, the mosquito bites and the generator noises?
Now everybody who is somebody must have a generator ... the harder the sound, the better, no matter how disturbed the neighbors are. Here in Ayala Alabang Village where almost everybody wants to be somebody, you just have to suffer the consequences if, like us, you happen to be an old-fashioned candle user.
Our family should be happy that our house is located in a place where our immediate neighbors are not using electric generators. But the houses next to them are all generator users and the noises from there seem to be coming just from the other side of the walls. I wonder how those people can tolerate the sounds of their own generators or maybe they are just tolerating them for they feel it is more important that people are aware that they can also afford the machine.
To some people, status symbol is more important than all its inconveniences.
ON CANDLE HOLDERS
CANDLE HOLDERS
April 26, 1993 – 7:00 p.m.
It is now 7:00 o’clock in the evening and there is till light. I was expecting it since about an hour ago. But the lessons of brownout keep coming my way. Like now, after learning much about candles, I am now discovering many things about candle stands.
They also come in different sizes, shapes and colors. Some are made of glass, others of brass, stone, marble, wood, resin, plastic, etc. Glass stands could be dangerous. They cracked when finally heated by a candle nearing its end. Wooden and plastic stands are the most risky as they themselves burn and usually when nobody is around to look.
I discovered that the best candle holder is the old, thick porcelain coffee cup turned upside down. It catches the drippings and is not in danger of burning even when the candle is consumed.
Aside from the candles and the stands there are also lessons to be learned on where to put the candle inside the room. It should be away from curtains, books and other flammable materials like dry clothes. One of the most neglected is a wooden shelf where the heat of the candle flame of the lower shelf could actually trigger the heating and finally burning of the upper shelf. This is a common cause of big fires in some neighborhoods.
For as long as there are blackouts to be experienced there are many lessons to be learned, risks involved and frequent loss of properties through conflagrations. This could also mean several cases of burns that may actually results to death.
I don’t know when lights shall be off tonight, but whether sooner or later, it will mean the same thing. At least four hours of darkness. Four hours of cursing to some, to others, four hours of outdoor living. For me it is four to six hours of sleeplessness while I keep on checking, watching and changing the candles around the house.
April 26, 1993 – 7:00 p.m.
It is now 7:00 o’clock in the evening and there is till light. I was expecting it since about an hour ago. But the lessons of brownout keep coming my way. Like now, after learning much about candles, I am now discovering many things about candle stands.
They also come in different sizes, shapes and colors. Some are made of glass, others of brass, stone, marble, wood, resin, plastic, etc. Glass stands could be dangerous. They cracked when finally heated by a candle nearing its end. Wooden and plastic stands are the most risky as they themselves burn and usually when nobody is around to look.
I discovered that the best candle holder is the old, thick porcelain coffee cup turned upside down. It catches the drippings and is not in danger of burning even when the candle is consumed.
Aside from the candles and the stands there are also lessons to be learned on where to put the candle inside the room. It should be away from curtains, books and other flammable materials like dry clothes. One of the most neglected is a wooden shelf where the heat of the candle flame of the lower shelf could actually trigger the heating and finally burning of the upper shelf. This is a common cause of big fires in some neighborhoods.
For as long as there are blackouts to be experienced there are many lessons to be learned, risks involved and frequent loss of properties through conflagrations. This could also mean several cases of burns that may actually results to death.
I don’t know when lights shall be off tonight, but whether sooner or later, it will mean the same thing. At least four hours of darkness. Four hours of cursing to some, to others, four hours of outdoor living. For me it is four to six hours of sleeplessness while I keep on checking, watching and changing the candles around the house.
ON CANDLES AND OTHER SUBSTITUTE LIGHTS
ON CANDLES AND OTHER SUBSTITUTE LIGHT
April 23, 1993 - 12:15 p.m.
I used to think that all candles are the same. They are all made of wax, period. With the advent of Blackout, I was exposed to a variety of candles and learned much about them. Candles come in different sizes and shapes but for the purpose of using them as substitute light during blackouts there are important things to keep in mind.
Big candles do not last long necessarily as big candles also drip faster and could be very messy around the house, not to mention that because of their mere weight, big candles have a tendency to tumble down. Vigil candles look good in their beautiful glass containers but are only good the first time around. When vigil candle is put off, its wick dive-in the melted wax and from then on it will be hell trying to revive the drowned wick.
Other candles melt easily and drips messily if not very harmful to the hands that usually catch the hot drops of melted wax. For practical purposes I discovered that the small, recycled red candles found easily in Quiapo are very useful. They are consumed as they burn, the reason they don’t drip at all or very minimal if ever. Their sizes perfectly fit the mouth of a half ounce bottle and are very handy to bring around.
Not every household can afford a generator so, some settle for the more affordable. The most popular is the rechargeable emergency lamp. It is good except that if you have only one, everybody wants it for himself. It usually triggers a quarrel and misunderstanding among members of the family. It could also be easily out of order specially when you need it most.
Lamps powered by LPG are not free from troubles. It is easily clogged and once it starts malfunctioning it is its end. So you turn to the homemade lamps fueled with kerosene but its smoke is very strong pollutant.
You usually end up cursing not the darkness necessarily, not the NAPOCOR or the government, but just cursing anyway because doing so allows you to ventilate and makes you feel a bit lighter. In the long run the best substitute is still the cool, calm and romantic moonlight. Walking through the village during moonlight night is like walking in a dream. You begin to notice glitter of the leaves as you imbibe the sweetness and paleness of the night. You sometimes thank the malfunctioning machinery of NAPOCOR for bringing about the beautiful adventure, which lingers for quite a time even if you are not a lunatic.
In the province, probably a bonfire at the dark yard will yield thrills but doing it everyday whenever there is power cut-off could be boring too.
Back to candles, one must be extra cautious for tiny burning candles forgotten in one corner of the house brought about many big conflagrations.
April 23, 1993 - 12:15 p.m.
I used to think that all candles are the same. They are all made of wax, period. With the advent of Blackout, I was exposed to a variety of candles and learned much about them. Candles come in different sizes and shapes but for the purpose of using them as substitute light during blackouts there are important things to keep in mind.
Big candles do not last long necessarily as big candles also drip faster and could be very messy around the house, not to mention that because of their mere weight, big candles have a tendency to tumble down. Vigil candles look good in their beautiful glass containers but are only good the first time around. When vigil candle is put off, its wick dive-in the melted wax and from then on it will be hell trying to revive the drowned wick.
Other candles melt easily and drips messily if not very harmful to the hands that usually catch the hot drops of melted wax. For practical purposes I discovered that the small, recycled red candles found easily in Quiapo are very useful. They are consumed as they burn, the reason they don’t drip at all or very minimal if ever. Their sizes perfectly fit the mouth of a half ounce bottle and are very handy to bring around.
Not every household can afford a generator so, some settle for the more affordable. The most popular is the rechargeable emergency lamp. It is good except that if you have only one, everybody wants it for himself. It usually triggers a quarrel and misunderstanding among members of the family. It could also be easily out of order specially when you need it most.
Lamps powered by LPG are not free from troubles. It is easily clogged and once it starts malfunctioning it is its end. So you turn to the homemade lamps fueled with kerosene but its smoke is very strong pollutant.
You usually end up cursing not the darkness necessarily, not the NAPOCOR or the government, but just cursing anyway because doing so allows you to ventilate and makes you feel a bit lighter. In the long run the best substitute is still the cool, calm and romantic moonlight. Walking through the village during moonlight night is like walking in a dream. You begin to notice glitter of the leaves as you imbibe the sweetness and paleness of the night. You sometimes thank the malfunctioning machinery of NAPOCOR for bringing about the beautiful adventure, which lingers for quite a time even if you are not a lunatic.
In the province, probably a bonfire at the dark yard will yield thrills but doing it everyday whenever there is power cut-off could be boring too.
Back to candles, one must be extra cautious for tiny burning candles forgotten in one corner of the house brought about many big conflagrations.
THINKING IN THE DARK
THINKING IN THE DARK
April 21, 1993: 9:45 p.m.
Ayala Alabang Village
I was not cursing the darkness for I actually lighted not one but three candles. Darkness was no longer a problem. I could appreciate things around me as I could even read the newspaper.
But the summer heat was so much. I couldn’t stay indoors. So, there I was outside under the screened portion of our premises. How the big mosquitoes made their way through the screen was beyond my comprehension. They were feasting all around my legs and I was itching all over.
I could tolerate all the side effects of this blackout menace as I tolerated worse experiences during the Japanese occupation.
The neighbor’s generators were emitting rickety noises yet, it was seemingly quiet around the house. My youngest son was sleeping deeply. My eldest, was not yet home. My wife and three daughters were in the United States of America, and must be enjoying the amenities of the land of milk and honey.
I was alone and wondering why. But, I mustn’t wonder. This is the reality of life. Sooner or later I would be retiring after having attended to patients for more than thirty years. I have plans for my retirement and what I am experiencing is a good rehearsal.
When the time comes that all my children are already living their own lives with their own families, my wife and I, much older than we are now, shall be left behind to take care of ourselves.
Knowing my wife, she won’t run out of things to do. She won’t stop working nor stop earning, for those are the things that make her happy. She always needs a lot of adrenalin in her circulation to feel good.
Me, I shall organize a senior citizen’s group but not just the usual bunch of aging pensioners, meeting every now and then to share their life’s discomforts. My group shall be active in all aspects of life, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually.
We shall merge ourselves with the youth organizations to serve as their partners in socio-civic activities. We shall be their moral and financial supporters as well as counselors and advisers in the promotion of their chosen projects.
While the youth shall be our strength and dynamic planners, we, the senior citizens shall be their sources of inspiration by sharing with them our wisdom and experiences.
It has not been tried anywhere before but with the clear perception that I now see vividly through flickering candles and beyond the darkness of the night I can I can see tangible results that could greatly improve our community.
This shall become a seed that shall be planted in the soil of my hometown. When it generates and grows we shall not be selfish. We shall be willing to share the concept with other communities until the whole nation harvest plenty of fruits.
Back to the flickering candles and the reason why I lighted them, the blackout is teaching me many lessons. It is only in the dark nights that I can truly appreciate the brightness of the stars. It also brings the memories of fireflies, oh, millions of them hovering over a big mango tree behind our house back in the province when I was a little boy.
Here in Ayala Alabang Village there are many trees but there are no fireflies even when it is dark. I wonder where they have all gone since the electric lights became popular. I wonder how many children today missed the joys and challenges of catching fireflies, gathering them inside a glass jar then passing them around like hundreds of tiny flashlights.
Without a dark tunnel there is no promise of light shining at its end. Without the blackness of the night who will ever notice the brightness and colors of a beautiful day? Black (dark) is important because it makes everything else more beautiful.
Welcome blackout and thank you NAPOCOR for mismanagement. I won’t be hysterical anymore. Let us all accept the realities of nights in our lives.
April 21, 1993: 9:45 p.m.
Ayala Alabang Village
I was not cursing the darkness for I actually lighted not one but three candles. Darkness was no longer a problem. I could appreciate things around me as I could even read the newspaper.
But the summer heat was so much. I couldn’t stay indoors. So, there I was outside under the screened portion of our premises. How the big mosquitoes made their way through the screen was beyond my comprehension. They were feasting all around my legs and I was itching all over.
I could tolerate all the side effects of this blackout menace as I tolerated worse experiences during the Japanese occupation.
The neighbor’s generators were emitting rickety noises yet, it was seemingly quiet around the house. My youngest son was sleeping deeply. My eldest, was not yet home. My wife and three daughters were in the United States of America, and must be enjoying the amenities of the land of milk and honey.
I was alone and wondering why. But, I mustn’t wonder. This is the reality of life. Sooner or later I would be retiring after having attended to patients for more than thirty years. I have plans for my retirement and what I am experiencing is a good rehearsal.
When the time comes that all my children are already living their own lives with their own families, my wife and I, much older than we are now, shall be left behind to take care of ourselves.
Knowing my wife, she won’t run out of things to do. She won’t stop working nor stop earning, for those are the things that make her happy. She always needs a lot of adrenalin in her circulation to feel good.
Me, I shall organize a senior citizen’s group but not just the usual bunch of aging pensioners, meeting every now and then to share their life’s discomforts. My group shall be active in all aspects of life, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually.
We shall merge ourselves with the youth organizations to serve as their partners in socio-civic activities. We shall be their moral and financial supporters as well as counselors and advisers in the promotion of their chosen projects.
While the youth shall be our strength and dynamic planners, we, the senior citizens shall be their sources of inspiration by sharing with them our wisdom and experiences.
It has not been tried anywhere before but with the clear perception that I now see vividly through flickering candles and beyond the darkness of the night I can I can see tangible results that could greatly improve our community.
This shall become a seed that shall be planted in the soil of my hometown. When it generates and grows we shall not be selfish. We shall be willing to share the concept with other communities until the whole nation harvest plenty of fruits.
Back to the flickering candles and the reason why I lighted them, the blackout is teaching me many lessons. It is only in the dark nights that I can truly appreciate the brightness of the stars. It also brings the memories of fireflies, oh, millions of them hovering over a big mango tree behind our house back in the province when I was a little boy.
Here in Ayala Alabang Village there are many trees but there are no fireflies even when it is dark. I wonder where they have all gone since the electric lights became popular. I wonder how many children today missed the joys and challenges of catching fireflies, gathering them inside a glass jar then passing them around like hundreds of tiny flashlights.
Without a dark tunnel there is no promise of light shining at its end. Without the blackness of the night who will ever notice the brightness and colors of a beautiful day? Black (dark) is important because it makes everything else more beautiful.
Welcome blackout and thank you NAPOCOR for mismanagement. I won’t be hysterical anymore. Let us all accept the realities of nights in our lives.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
MAN'S CROWNING GLORY
Somewhere, sometime, someone said: “It is not the things you do dear, it is the things you leave undone, that gives you a bit of heartache at the setting of the sun…”. Indeed, things undone and things unfelt are the things that truly hurt. But man is forever on the go… Every moment he is in a hurry and as he whirls around stupidly and rapidly, he leaves behind him bundles of things that hurt. Little neglected things that doesn’t only give bits of heartache but also creates inferiority complex that induces man to become psychologically unstable.
There are of course many ways of neglecting things. Some are done by commission, others by omission. Whichever method is a kind of sin. For instance, it is a sin to fail to care for one’s body and by body I mean every part of his anatomy from the tip of the toenail to the tip of the hair.
Following this line of thinking, at any rate I have to confess that I was a sinner. I have been very negligent about my health. And just to prove how much I have erred, I almost lost all my hair. It all started when I was a medical student. In one of the subjects, the professor failed to explain to me the real function of the hair. Since then I neglected it. After all, I said, what is the use caring for a function-less something? I slept late at night, ate any kind of food, use any available pomade, drunk coffee and smoke pro re nata.
One day while taking my unusual bath I noticed a bundle of hair sticking to my bath soap. Well, who cares? There are a lot of bald headed individuals walking normally around. Soon my thinning hair became noticeable to my friends who started teasing me. I still didn’t mind them.
Later I had my picture taken and alas! The shiny reflection of the flush bulb was very evident on my already widening forehead. To add insult to injury, everybody thought I was older than my “kuya”. Children called me “lolo”. I was still feeling young then but who could argue against somebody who stared at you and saw you old? I started worrying just to realize that worries accelerate falling hair. I was in a position of no return; so to cover what I did not possess I started wearing hats of all kinds and designs to discover even further that hats aid falling hair too. Furthermore, unlike women, men could only wear hats on much chosen places and occasions otherwise they would be branded “bastos” regardless of whether they really are or just covering their shiny scalps.
I began cursing myself, after all everybody else was cursing me including my girlfriend who promised to love me “till death do us part”. Her love disappeared together with my hair until only sideburns were left which incidentally were the only ones being cut by the barbers. So, every time I visit my barber I practically turn hairless and almost headless. I began consoling myself by wise comments of other bald headed celebrities like Eisenhower, Yul Bryner and Pugo, to no avail. I was still feeling sorry for myself.
I looked for the next better step: Remedial measures. Being a medical man I was aware of the fact that so far as the medical science was concerned there was still no hair grower available then. Everything was still under study. But I said there was no harm trying and I did try everything from the herbs to Foltene forte, etc. Every now and then I would see immature hairs coming out of my scalp and I would be hysterical. But they would never leave that stage of immaturity and I would never be able to come out of that hysterical condition which was proven to be the most effective hair sweeper.
In spite of all the frustrations, disappointments and sad experiences brought about by the absence of hair, I managed to pretend unconcerned like all other hairless people did. I said it made me more dignified than ever and I used to quote about the grass that does not grow on busy streets. Yet, deep in my heart I felt the ache and all the uneasy symptoms and side effects of 'bald headedness'.
Then I got married at last to a woman who said I would be a perfect husband had I not lost my head (hair). She was the one who insisted that I do something or else…
That was the time I hurried to Mrs. Foster of the Pioneer Institute of Fashion who claimed to be an expert Tupee manufacturer. I was immediately given a demonstration of how the Tupee worked. She tried one on my head and true enough I felt the instant rejuvenating effect. I did not only look young, I felt young. All my frustrations were suddenly washed away until Mrs. Foster told me the price of one Tupee and all my previous frustrations were doubled. So, I bargained and bargained until she got irritated and finally accepted me as her real and original friend who deserved a very, very discounted gift, gift price. I was about to say “What is one Tupee between friends”, but I was told I needed two to alternate with the other when one is being shampooed. And that was not all. I was obliged to buy a roll of Tupee plaster, supposedly made in Germany at a price only Germans can afford. I pretended I was a German having in mind the number of patents I needed to encounter in order to raise the amount I paid for my hair. But Mrs. Foster was a very sweet lady. She had a way of dealing with bald men and can compel them to pay even if they are her friends. I owe her a lot of thanks for bringing me back my youthful time in such a way that all my classmates ten years ago could now recognize me and recall those days when we were young and foolish.
As the saying goes: “A monkey, dressed so well is a monkey just the same”. Likewise, a bald head with Tupee is a bald head still. In fact according to one Cursillista, Tupee is the most expensive way of telling a lie because it actually covers the truth. But this Cursillista failed to realize that he was dying his white hair unaware that it was a grave and mortal sin too. So I argued that I was not attempting to exhibit a lie. I was only using my Tupee as a form of mental reservation to show my real age and my real appearance, after all the hair is a function-less part of my anatomy, but a real necessity in my dealings with my cruel society.
In this age of political turmoil, riots, floods, earthquakes and hijacking, man is at a loss. He is constantly trying to find his own identity. That is why man is always hurrying and complaining. That is why man is already incapable of loving truly and being loved. That is why the world is in trouble and that is even why there is a need for charter change. So they say “Love is a Many Splendor Thing”, but I insist that the Hair is “the golden crown that makes a man a king”.
There are of course many ways of neglecting things. Some are done by commission, others by omission. Whichever method is a kind of sin. For instance, it is a sin to fail to care for one’s body and by body I mean every part of his anatomy from the tip of the toenail to the tip of the hair.
Following this line of thinking, at any rate I have to confess that I was a sinner. I have been very negligent about my health. And just to prove how much I have erred, I almost lost all my hair. It all started when I was a medical student. In one of the subjects, the professor failed to explain to me the real function of the hair. Since then I neglected it. After all, I said, what is the use caring for a function-less something? I slept late at night, ate any kind of food, use any available pomade, drunk coffee and smoke pro re nata.
One day while taking my unusual bath I noticed a bundle of hair sticking to my bath soap. Well, who cares? There are a lot of bald headed individuals walking normally around. Soon my thinning hair became noticeable to my friends who started teasing me. I still didn’t mind them.
Later I had my picture taken and alas! The shiny reflection of the flush bulb was very evident on my already widening forehead. To add insult to injury, everybody thought I was older than my “kuya”. Children called me “lolo”. I was still feeling young then but who could argue against somebody who stared at you and saw you old? I started worrying just to realize that worries accelerate falling hair. I was in a position of no return; so to cover what I did not possess I started wearing hats of all kinds and designs to discover even further that hats aid falling hair too. Furthermore, unlike women, men could only wear hats on much chosen places and occasions otherwise they would be branded “bastos” regardless of whether they really are or just covering their shiny scalps.
I began cursing myself, after all everybody else was cursing me including my girlfriend who promised to love me “till death do us part”. Her love disappeared together with my hair until only sideburns were left which incidentally were the only ones being cut by the barbers. So, every time I visit my barber I practically turn hairless and almost headless. I began consoling myself by wise comments of other bald headed celebrities like Eisenhower, Yul Bryner and Pugo, to no avail. I was still feeling sorry for myself.
I looked for the next better step: Remedial measures. Being a medical man I was aware of the fact that so far as the medical science was concerned there was still no hair grower available then. Everything was still under study. But I said there was no harm trying and I did try everything from the herbs to Foltene forte, etc. Every now and then I would see immature hairs coming out of my scalp and I would be hysterical. But they would never leave that stage of immaturity and I would never be able to come out of that hysterical condition which was proven to be the most effective hair sweeper.
In spite of all the frustrations, disappointments and sad experiences brought about by the absence of hair, I managed to pretend unconcerned like all other hairless people did. I said it made me more dignified than ever and I used to quote about the grass that does not grow on busy streets. Yet, deep in my heart I felt the ache and all the uneasy symptoms and side effects of 'bald headedness'.
Then I got married at last to a woman who said I would be a perfect husband had I not lost my head (hair). She was the one who insisted that I do something or else…
That was the time I hurried to Mrs. Foster of the Pioneer Institute of Fashion who claimed to be an expert Tupee manufacturer. I was immediately given a demonstration of how the Tupee worked. She tried one on my head and true enough I felt the instant rejuvenating effect. I did not only look young, I felt young. All my frustrations were suddenly washed away until Mrs. Foster told me the price of one Tupee and all my previous frustrations were doubled. So, I bargained and bargained until she got irritated and finally accepted me as her real and original friend who deserved a very, very discounted gift, gift price. I was about to say “What is one Tupee between friends”, but I was told I needed two to alternate with the other when one is being shampooed. And that was not all. I was obliged to buy a roll of Tupee plaster, supposedly made in Germany at a price only Germans can afford. I pretended I was a German having in mind the number of patents I needed to encounter in order to raise the amount I paid for my hair. But Mrs. Foster was a very sweet lady. She had a way of dealing with bald men and can compel them to pay even if they are her friends. I owe her a lot of thanks for bringing me back my youthful time in such a way that all my classmates ten years ago could now recognize me and recall those days when we were young and foolish.
As the saying goes: “A monkey, dressed so well is a monkey just the same”. Likewise, a bald head with Tupee is a bald head still. In fact according to one Cursillista, Tupee is the most expensive way of telling a lie because it actually covers the truth. But this Cursillista failed to realize that he was dying his white hair unaware that it was a grave and mortal sin too. So I argued that I was not attempting to exhibit a lie. I was only using my Tupee as a form of mental reservation to show my real age and my real appearance, after all the hair is a function-less part of my anatomy, but a real necessity in my dealings with my cruel society.
In this age of political turmoil, riots, floods, earthquakes and hijacking, man is at a loss. He is constantly trying to find his own identity. That is why man is always hurrying and complaining. That is why man is already incapable of loving truly and being loved. That is why the world is in trouble and that is even why there is a need for charter change. So they say “Love is a Many Splendor Thing”, but I insist that the Hair is “the golden crown that makes a man a king”.
COMMUNISTS' AREN'T HAPPY
In a wake that I recently attended I noticed how very easy it was to make Filipinos Happy. Four people were then playing “pekwa” (a card game) on top of a small table. They were surrounded by onlookers and every now and then there were happy commotions. One wrong throw of one player was enough to make spectators giggle.
To most Filipinos a wrong decision was funny and laughable. Perhaps that was the reason why in spite of so many wrongdoings in the government and in the private sectors, Filipinos were still happy. They enjoyed discussing among themselves debts incurred after a lavish fiesta or an extravagant birthday party. It interested them and made them feel hilarious when officials made mistakes or somebody had done something embarrassing.
Problems were sprouting right and left and Filipinos were enjoying every bit of it. They made jokes about the diabolic activities of the “satanists”, about a priest that married his secretary, a nun or a senator that blundered. Nothing tickled them deep to the bones more than a churchman caught doing sinful acts.
The Filipino characteristics were so irritating, yet, come to think of it, we were often saved from a grave danger because of this irrelevant sense of humor. That was how we laughed out tear gas, guns and tanks during the popular EDSA revolution more aptly termed people power all over the world.
While in other countries insurgency was a serious problem, here we only made comedy skits about it. While in most western countries people run away from fighting groups, here in the Philippines we gathered around and even clapped our hands while watching a live action show.
Filipinos were fun loving and were themselves funny. They bragged about their nationalism yet exhibited and practiced foreign culture. Yes, even our religious practices and our spirituality were a series of funny events. From colorful baptismal festivities preceded by “buhos-tubig” (lay baptism), a few days after birth to enjoyable “juego de frenda” during death wakes, and all the other expensive celebrations in between the womb and the tomb, we Filipinos always laugh.
This 'ugaling Filipino' however, was our most important shield against communism, for communist were serious ideologists, they seldom laugh and we Filipinos can never accept anything unfunny. We would rather die laughing than live in an atmosphere of equality and justice if we couldn’t even smile wholeheartedly.
Back to “pekwa”, one player claimed he was cheated and he was red-mad trying to prove his point. But everybody laughed at him for his temperament and just for fear of being disqualified from the game of insomniacs; he composed himself and gave his most precious smile of surrender. Most Filipinos do surrender their principles for a laugh and it was really funny.
To most Filipinos a wrong decision was funny and laughable. Perhaps that was the reason why in spite of so many wrongdoings in the government and in the private sectors, Filipinos were still happy. They enjoyed discussing among themselves debts incurred after a lavish fiesta or an extravagant birthday party. It interested them and made them feel hilarious when officials made mistakes or somebody had done something embarrassing.
Problems were sprouting right and left and Filipinos were enjoying every bit of it. They made jokes about the diabolic activities of the “satanists”, about a priest that married his secretary, a nun or a senator that blundered. Nothing tickled them deep to the bones more than a churchman caught doing sinful acts.
The Filipino characteristics were so irritating, yet, come to think of it, we were often saved from a grave danger because of this irrelevant sense of humor. That was how we laughed out tear gas, guns and tanks during the popular EDSA revolution more aptly termed people power all over the world.
While in other countries insurgency was a serious problem, here we only made comedy skits about it. While in most western countries people run away from fighting groups, here in the Philippines we gathered around and even clapped our hands while watching a live action show.
Filipinos were fun loving and were themselves funny. They bragged about their nationalism yet exhibited and practiced foreign culture. Yes, even our religious practices and our spirituality were a series of funny events. From colorful baptismal festivities preceded by “buhos-tubig” (lay baptism), a few days after birth to enjoyable “juego de frenda” during death wakes, and all the other expensive celebrations in between the womb and the tomb, we Filipinos always laugh.
This 'ugaling Filipino' however, was our most important shield against communism, for communist were serious ideologists, they seldom laugh and we Filipinos can never accept anything unfunny. We would rather die laughing than live in an atmosphere of equality and justice if we couldn’t even smile wholeheartedly.
Back to “pekwa”, one player claimed he was cheated and he was red-mad trying to prove his point. But everybody laughed at him for his temperament and just for fear of being disqualified from the game of insomniacs; he composed himself and gave his most precious smile of surrender. Most Filipinos do surrender their principles for a laugh and it was really funny.
Friday, February 22, 2008
GOOD BYE DAVAO
GOOD BYE DAVAO
The following day, January 14th we left the Beach Resort at 7:00 a.m. together with the honeymooners Joy and Ramon Fuentesjuna of Cebu City. We heard Mass at St. Peter’s Cathedral at downtown Davao. After the Mass we went our way to the Bankerohan Market. We bought pork, mangoes, papayas, bananas and vegetables. Afterwards we taxied to Victoria Plaza and ate at VP Garden. There we left our basket of goodies while we watched “Muling Umawit ang Puso”.
After the movie we walked a round the mall, had snacks at VP Garden then proceeded to Insular Hotel where we killed time while Bebot, the room boy wrapped our basket. Er Abellalosa, the other tour guide, was also there to help. I bought some souvenirs.
Comment: In other countries that we have visited the tour guide always reminded us to be careful with our personal belongings like the clutch bags and wallets, as there were pickpockets and snatchers everywhere. I thought our guide Ariel was only exaggerating that in Davao we could feel at home as we could walk around anywhere without fear of being molested by anyone.
He almost guaranteed our safety even from drug addicts, as there were none. Indeed we felt the veracity of his sales talk when we went out later without a guide. Everyone was very courteous and always willing to give a helping hand with a smile. No doubt the Good Lord gifted Davao with good rainfall, evenly distributed on different areas, absence of typhoon and almost never bothered by earthquake. Davao was not only green and unpolluted, it was also clean, and I mean clean as in C-L-E-A-N, not only at Pearl Farm Beach Resort where we were billeted but also in downtown Davao or at the Wet Market like Bankerohan. I only noticed a few litters of dry leave and some crumpled papers at Carpenter road late in the afternoon.
It was all because Mayor Rodrigo Duterte was good in IMPLEMENTING LAWS and was vigilant on law-breakers who were always punished accordingly.
If it was possible in Davao City, the biggest in the whole world, it could also be possible in a small community like Alfonso in Cavite. The name Davao evolved from the word davo-davo, meaning fire, because according to legend it was in that place that different tribes used to fight each other and it was always hot with fire of war.
Even plants were seemingly happy in Davao. No student can graduate from elementary and high school without planting at least one plant. The secret is discipline through strong political will.
The following day, January 14th we left the Beach Resort at 7:00 a.m. together with the honeymooners Joy and Ramon Fuentesjuna of Cebu City. We heard Mass at St. Peter’s Cathedral at downtown Davao. After the Mass we went our way to the Bankerohan Market. We bought pork, mangoes, papayas, bananas and vegetables. Afterwards we taxied to Victoria Plaza and ate at VP Garden. There we left our basket of goodies while we watched “Muling Umawit ang Puso”.
After the movie we walked a round the mall, had snacks at VP Garden then proceeded to Insular Hotel where we killed time while Bebot, the room boy wrapped our basket. Er Abellalosa, the other tour guide, was also there to help. I bought some souvenirs.
Comment: In other countries that we have visited the tour guide always reminded us to be careful with our personal belongings like the clutch bags and wallets, as there were pickpockets and snatchers everywhere. I thought our guide Ariel was only exaggerating that in Davao we could feel at home as we could walk around anywhere without fear of being molested by anyone.
He almost guaranteed our safety even from drug addicts, as there were none. Indeed we felt the veracity of his sales talk when we went out later without a guide. Everyone was very courteous and always willing to give a helping hand with a smile. No doubt the Good Lord gifted Davao with good rainfall, evenly distributed on different areas, absence of typhoon and almost never bothered by earthquake. Davao was not only green and unpolluted, it was also clean, and I mean clean as in C-L-E-A-N, not only at Pearl Farm Beach Resort where we were billeted but also in downtown Davao or at the Wet Market like Bankerohan. I only noticed a few litters of dry leave and some crumpled papers at Carpenter road late in the afternoon.
It was all because Mayor Rodrigo Duterte was good in IMPLEMENTING LAWS and was vigilant on law-breakers who were always punished accordingly.
If it was possible in Davao City, the biggest in the whole world, it could also be possible in a small community like Alfonso in Cavite. The name Davao evolved from the word davo-davo, meaning fire, because according to legend it was in that place that different tribes used to fight each other and it was always hot with fire of war.
Even plants were seemingly happy in Davao. No student can graduate from elementary and high school without planting at least one plant. The secret is discipline through strong political will.
DAVAO HERE WE ARE
We left the house a t 5:00 a.m. with the car driven by Peter-Jonathan to Philippine Village Hotel where Grand Air‘s office was located. We were told that there were only 80 passengers, one on the business section. So, we were accommodated at the business section and were even allowed to choose the best seats, the very first of the first class accommodation.
We waited at the business lounge where we were entertained by smiling ladies, complete with our choice snacks. At 6:30 a.m. we went to the bus that brought us to the airport. Terry and I and one foreigner were the only occupant of the business section.
The airplane piloted by Captain McCrthy started at quarter to seven and reached Davao Airport at 8:15 a.m., successfully in spite of the minor air “turbulence” encountered.
At the airport we were met by the efficiently talkative Ariel Resturo, the Pearl Farm tour guide, I supposed. From there we were brought to Insular Hotel ground together with a Balikbayan couple, Don and Victoria Santos. Everyone was greeting us good morning: the driver, the security guards, the janitors, as well as ordinary passers-by. I commented that Mayor Rodrigo Duterte must be doing very well.
From the Insular Hotel we walked a little to the seaside to wait for the boat to carry us to Pearl Farm. While waiting, Ariel showed us three islands: Bakbak to the left, Peñaplata to the center and Caputian to our right where the Pearl Farm was located. We also passed-by the samples of the TIBOK weavers.
After almost an hour waiting, the boat, M/S Victoria arrived to fetch the four of us. Terry, Don,Victoria and Me. Through Ariel we also learned that Pearl Farm was originally owned by the Aguinaldos but was bought by the Florendos, the in-laws of the popular beauty, Margie Moran.
The place was exotic. Even from the air I was already attracted by the biggest city in the world . It was clean and green.
At Pearl Farm Beach Resort we were greeted by the “Rondalla” and were immediately brought to our room at Balay I, Room B. We could have rode a jeepney but we decided to walk through 120 steps up, excluding the walking steps through long landings and pathways (160 steps).
At the PAROLA we met Rafael S.Chico, Chairman of the Quezon City Tourism Council and Secretary of the National Capital Region Tourism Council. He was also, Executive Vice-president of Hotel Danarra and Resort. There we also met Juvy Longakit who volunteered to guide us in touring the area after lunch.
We were brought by boat to Villa Malipanon the other island where the Rest Houses of the Florendos were located. They were all built on top of rocks. It was Paradise.
At 12:00 noon the following day we rode the boat to Davao City for our scheduled City tour. We were met by our tour guide, Ritchie Roxas and the driver Loloy Mondreza. We were the only city tourists.
We passed-by Lumad Arts & Crafts where we were shown Davao’s interesting crafts though we didn’t buy anything. It was at Jose P.Laurel Avenue. On the way we passed Barangay Baheda and Barangay Buhangin before we entered Matina Hill where
We waited at the business lounge where we were entertained by smiling ladies, complete with our choice snacks. At 6:30 a.m. we went to the bus that brought us to the airport. Terry and I and one foreigner were the only occupant of the business section.
The airplane piloted by Captain McCrthy started at quarter to seven and reached Davao Airport at 8:15 a.m., successfully in spite of the minor air “turbulence” encountered.
At the airport we were met by the efficiently talkative Ariel Resturo, the Pearl Farm tour guide, I supposed. From there we were brought to Insular Hotel ground together with a Balikbayan couple, Don and Victoria Santos. Everyone was greeting us good morning: the driver, the security guards, the janitors, as well as ordinary passers-by. I commented that Mayor Rodrigo Duterte must be doing very well.
From the Insular Hotel we walked a little to the seaside to wait for the boat to carry us to Pearl Farm. While waiting, Ariel showed us three islands: Bakbak to the left, Peñaplata to the center and Caputian to our right where the Pearl Farm was located. We also passed-by the samples of the TIBOK weavers.
After almost an hour waiting, the boat, M/S Victoria arrived to fetch the four of us. Terry, Don,Victoria and Me. Through Ariel we also learned that Pearl Farm was originally owned by the Aguinaldos but was bought by the Florendos, the in-laws of the popular beauty, Margie Moran.
The place was exotic. Even from the air I was already attracted by the biggest city in the world . It was clean and green.
At Pearl Farm Beach Resort we were greeted by the “Rondalla” and were immediately brought to our room at Balay I, Room B. We could have rode a jeepney but we decided to walk through 120 steps up, excluding the walking steps through long landings and pathways (160 steps).
At the PAROLA we met Rafael S.Chico, Chairman of the Quezon City Tourism Council and Secretary of the National Capital Region Tourism Council. He was also, Executive Vice-president of Hotel Danarra and Resort. There we also met Juvy Longakit who volunteered to guide us in touring the area after lunch.
We were brought by boat to Villa Malipanon the other island where the Rest Houses of the Florendos were located. They were all built on top of rocks. It was Paradise.
At 12:00 noon the following day we rode the boat to Davao City for our scheduled City tour. We were met by our tour guide, Ritchie Roxas and the driver Loloy Mondreza. We were the only city tourists.
We passed-by Lumad Arts & Crafts where we were shown Davao’s interesting crafts though we didn’t buy anything. It was at Jose P.Laurel Avenue. On the way we passed Barangay Baheda and Barangay Buhangin before we entered Matina Hill where
TOUR OF DAVAO
We went to Davao where we celebrated our 26th Wedding Anniversary. It wasn’t that Davao had any special attachment to our relationship, but rather it was an opportunity offered to us in a silver platter through a free round plane ticket courtesy of Grand Air. It was one of the fringe benefits enjoyed by my daughter Brinna Zita as employee of Grand Air.
Not only the parents but the brothers and sisters who were below 23 years of age were given free ticket too.
Davao was one interesting place I have long wanted to see just like the other popular parts of the Philippines. That time and even up to now I haven’t seen Baguio even after eight attempts that were all aborted due to some unnecessary circumstances beyond my control. My curiosity about the different tourist attractions of the country was as fresh as that of a child. The mere thought of the travel made me feel very young.
For a gift to my wife I framed one of our romantic pictures taken at Parko Valentino in Turin, Italy when we went there. I brought it with me with the intention of surprising her when she wakes up on January 13th seeing our picture on top of her bedside table.
What we did was par t of our agreed plan – to tour the Philippines so as not to become a “dayuhan sa sariling bayan”. That free ticket privilege would surely bring us to different places, not only in the Philippines but to other countries as well. We wanted to enjoy life while we were still capable. I have seen a lot of couples who didn’t give themselves a chance to enjoy even if they have all the time and the money. Most of them repented afterwards when they turned too old and sickly to t ravel anywhere. In our case even our children were in complete agreement in what we were doing.
Not only the parents but the brothers and sisters who were below 23 years of age were given free ticket too.
Davao was one interesting place I have long wanted to see just like the other popular parts of the Philippines. That time and even up to now I haven’t seen Baguio even after eight attempts that were all aborted due to some unnecessary circumstances beyond my control. My curiosity about the different tourist attractions of the country was as fresh as that of a child. The mere thought of the travel made me feel very young.
For a gift to my wife I framed one of our romantic pictures taken at Parko Valentino in Turin, Italy when we went there. I brought it with me with the intention of surprising her when she wakes up on January 13th seeing our picture on top of her bedside table.
What we did was par t of our agreed plan – to tour the Philippines so as not to become a “dayuhan sa sariling bayan”. That free ticket privilege would surely bring us to different places, not only in the Philippines but to other countries as well. We wanted to enjoy life while we were still capable. I have seen a lot of couples who didn’t give themselves a chance to enjoy even if they have all the time and the money. Most of them repented afterwards when they turned too old and sickly to t ravel anywhere. In our case even our children were in complete agreement in what we were doing.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
PATER NOSTER PILGRIMAGE
PATER NOSTER PILGRIMAGE
“Looking Back)
A Pilgrimage is supposed to be a journey to Holy Places and Shrines. That was in my mind when I joined the Pater Noster Pilgrimage one time.
We were scheduled to visit Greece, particularly its capital, Athens; Israel, where the Holy Land was to be found; Turkey (Istanbul and Izmir specially); and Italy (Rome, Turin, Florence, Asisi).
Indeed it was a visit to Holy Shrines and Places but that was only one aspect of it. There were also the other equally important even if only incidental factors to consider, like the political, historical, social and the spiritual as well as the more talk-about shopping escapades.
It took political will to keep those shrines , landmarks and ruins intact. Such political will was felt strongly in all t he places that we visited. Discipline was evident everywhere. I just pitied my own country, the Philippines.
One reason tourism was thriving very well in those countries was strong political will or how else could they keep those streets and highways well maintained, garbage well attended and water supply uninterrupted even at the highest mountaintops? How else could they secure so well all those valuable places if not for political will?
Historically it was the blessed luck of those countries that they were civilized early in time. But which country had no history? Which country had no Holy Places and Shrines?
Socially and culturally each country could brag something of its own heritage and this differs from place to place. It would just be a matter of putting things in order.
There is no such thing as genuine pilgrimage done only to visit Holy Places, for a pilgrimage is also a learning experience. We all learned that the holier the place, like in the Holy Land, the more confusing it became and the more troubles it generated.
There were places claimed by the Islams (The Goldlen Mosque); by the Jews (The Wailing Wall) or by the Christians (The Sepulchre Church); sometimes by them all like the Kidron Valley. As a result there were misunderstandings, confusions, riots and even wars.
Yet, even spiritually a pilgrimage could be misleading if one’s spiritual background was not strongly rooted. For this reason I thought that a pilgrimage was not for the young minds.
There were for instance two graves attributed to the Virgin Mary, one in Jerusalem and the other one in Turkey. Two homes were she supposedly grew old, the Dominican Abby in Mt. Zion and the Meryem Ana Avi in Ephesus plus the controversies about her assumption.
Not surprisingly, the shopping escapades eventually gained more grounds. It was the most real, the most genuine, the one experience that one could easily appreciate by just paying the right price.
Naturally there were more sharing about items bought or about stores where they acquired them. Those souvenir items would be part of themselves that they could carry around wherever they would like to go. And those souvenirs would remind one and sundry about their pilgrimage. Through their souvenirs they could always easily share themselves with others.
In Greece everything looked Greek and sounded Greek to me in the beginning until I soon realized that I was in Greece. From far away every person was extremely good-looking reminding me of the gods and goddesses of the Greek Mythology.
Looking closer, however, revealed parrot-nosed men and women with dangling breasts. Most of the old folks looked like witches but were all very kind and nice.
Greece, especially Athens, its capital was a good place to visit. Its Acropolis, ancient temples, amphitheaters and other ruins of the ancient civilization were historical places to behold. They brought me back in time to the periods of our ancestors.
Israel was another experience. The country was so particular about its security. From the airport to anywhere we went was surrounded by young energetic men and women securing the place. Most of them were under training not enjoying their job.
Israel must be the holiest place historically. It was where Jesus of the Christians was born, lived, preached, suffered, crucified, died, buried, resurrected and ascended to heaven. It is also where Mohammed of the Islam talked to God, also ascended to heaven and promised to return. It was where the obviously “weird” practices of the ultra-orthodox Jews, started.
But Israel, the supposed promise land was also the land of conflict and bloodshed due to seemingly endless wars. People were not at peace with themselves.
Even religious Shrines were under the care of different religious groups, and this was ironical in a place that God had chosen.
Beautiful and magnificent churches marked Holy spots sometimes confusingly by several generations of invaders and different groups of caretakers. Furthermore, all those Holy landmarks were surrounded by souvenir shops and noisy peddlers echoing their voices among difficult to solemnize prayer of the pilgrims.
Turkey, to me was a revelation. Most of the antiquities were well preserved. Their ruins were mostly undisturbed thus giving out genuine vibrations of reality. One could almost feel the presence of the people that lived there or smell the s cent of the food they were eating.
The Palaces and the treasures, the Churches and the Mosques were all too great just like the Acropolis and the Aesklepion, just to mention a few. It was in Istanbul where I saw and met coffee vendors and shoe-shine boys in beautiful and seemingly ancient costumes. Even the shoe stand looked like a golden throne.
Italy was easily the most romantic. From Rome to Florence to Turin even while passing through hundred mountain tunnels one could absorb romantic waves and rhythm of love.
No wonder Italy was full of people, of million faces, of flowers and songs and warm embraces.
From the tiny droplets of the Coin Fountain to the detailed paintings of Michelangelo in Rome; from the ancient castles and medieval villages to the gentle flow of the river Po down Parco Valentino in Turin, love emanates shiningly. No doubt one would see lovers romancing everywhere: along the streets, inside the bus, in the restaurant, in front of churches, at parking areas, in the dark or under the light…just anywhere; while walking, while sitting, while standing, eating, bathing, dancing and possibly even while praying.
But Rome, in spite of the Arab pickpockets and the Gypsy snatchers was also where the Pope was and an audience with the Pope was a most romantic encounter. With all those pilgrims coming from all corners of the world, all bringing love and expressing it in hundred different ways, the Vicar of Christ must be romantically overwhelmed.
We were there during the time of Pope John Paul II. Our small group, fourteen only left, expressed our love by shouting at the top of our voices: “John Paul two, we love you, John Paul two, we love you…Philippines! At the same time each of us was waving a tiny Filipino flag. I saw the Pope looked at us for a short while but that short while was full of heavenly bliss that culminated our Holy Pilgrimage.
“Looking Back)
A Pilgrimage is supposed to be a journey to Holy Places and Shrines. That was in my mind when I joined the Pater Noster Pilgrimage one time.
We were scheduled to visit Greece, particularly its capital, Athens; Israel, where the Holy Land was to be found; Turkey (Istanbul and Izmir specially); and Italy (Rome, Turin, Florence, Asisi).
Indeed it was a visit to Holy Shrines and Places but that was only one aspect of it. There were also the other equally important even if only incidental factors to consider, like the political, historical, social and the spiritual as well as the more talk-about shopping escapades.
It took political will to keep those shrines , landmarks and ruins intact. Such political will was felt strongly in all t he places that we visited. Discipline was evident everywhere. I just pitied my own country, the Philippines.
One reason tourism was thriving very well in those countries was strong political will or how else could they keep those streets and highways well maintained, garbage well attended and water supply uninterrupted even at the highest mountaintops? How else could they secure so well all those valuable places if not for political will?
Historically it was the blessed luck of those countries that they were civilized early in time. But which country had no history? Which country had no Holy Places and Shrines?
Socially and culturally each country could brag something of its own heritage and this differs from place to place. It would just be a matter of putting things in order.
There is no such thing as genuine pilgrimage done only to visit Holy Places, for a pilgrimage is also a learning experience. We all learned that the holier the place, like in the Holy Land, the more confusing it became and the more troubles it generated.
There were places claimed by the Islams (The Goldlen Mosque); by the Jews (The Wailing Wall) or by the Christians (The Sepulchre Church); sometimes by them all like the Kidron Valley. As a result there were misunderstandings, confusions, riots and even wars.
Yet, even spiritually a pilgrimage could be misleading if one’s spiritual background was not strongly rooted. For this reason I thought that a pilgrimage was not for the young minds.
There were for instance two graves attributed to the Virgin Mary, one in Jerusalem and the other one in Turkey. Two homes were she supposedly grew old, the Dominican Abby in Mt. Zion and the Meryem Ana Avi in Ephesus plus the controversies about her assumption.
Not surprisingly, the shopping escapades eventually gained more grounds. It was the most real, the most genuine, the one experience that one could easily appreciate by just paying the right price.
Naturally there were more sharing about items bought or about stores where they acquired them. Those souvenir items would be part of themselves that they could carry around wherever they would like to go. And those souvenirs would remind one and sundry about their pilgrimage. Through their souvenirs they could always easily share themselves with others.
In Greece everything looked Greek and sounded Greek to me in the beginning until I soon realized that I was in Greece. From far away every person was extremely good-looking reminding me of the gods and goddesses of the Greek Mythology.
Looking closer, however, revealed parrot-nosed men and women with dangling breasts. Most of the old folks looked like witches but were all very kind and nice.
Greece, especially Athens, its capital was a good place to visit. Its Acropolis, ancient temples, amphitheaters and other ruins of the ancient civilization were historical places to behold. They brought me back in time to the periods of our ancestors.
Israel was another experience. The country was so particular about its security. From the airport to anywhere we went was surrounded by young energetic men and women securing the place. Most of them were under training not enjoying their job.
Israel must be the holiest place historically. It was where Jesus of the Christians was born, lived, preached, suffered, crucified, died, buried, resurrected and ascended to heaven. It is also where Mohammed of the Islam talked to God, also ascended to heaven and promised to return. It was where the obviously “weird” practices of the ultra-orthodox Jews, started.
But Israel, the supposed promise land was also the land of conflict and bloodshed due to seemingly endless wars. People were not at peace with themselves.
Even religious Shrines were under the care of different religious groups, and this was ironical in a place that God had chosen.
Beautiful and magnificent churches marked Holy spots sometimes confusingly by several generations of invaders and different groups of caretakers. Furthermore, all those Holy landmarks were surrounded by souvenir shops and noisy peddlers echoing their voices among difficult to solemnize prayer of the pilgrims.
Turkey, to me was a revelation. Most of the antiquities were well preserved. Their ruins were mostly undisturbed thus giving out genuine vibrations of reality. One could almost feel the presence of the people that lived there or smell the s cent of the food they were eating.
The Palaces and the treasures, the Churches and the Mosques were all too great just like the Acropolis and the Aesklepion, just to mention a few. It was in Istanbul where I saw and met coffee vendors and shoe-shine boys in beautiful and seemingly ancient costumes. Even the shoe stand looked like a golden throne.
Italy was easily the most romantic. From Rome to Florence to Turin even while passing through hundred mountain tunnels one could absorb romantic waves and rhythm of love.
No wonder Italy was full of people, of million faces, of flowers and songs and warm embraces.
From the tiny droplets of the Coin Fountain to the detailed paintings of Michelangelo in Rome; from the ancient castles and medieval villages to the gentle flow of the river Po down Parco Valentino in Turin, love emanates shiningly. No doubt one would see lovers romancing everywhere: along the streets, inside the bus, in the restaurant, in front of churches, at parking areas, in the dark or under the light…just anywhere; while walking, while sitting, while standing, eating, bathing, dancing and possibly even while praying.
But Rome, in spite of the Arab pickpockets and the Gypsy snatchers was also where the Pope was and an audience with the Pope was a most romantic encounter. With all those pilgrims coming from all corners of the world, all bringing love and expressing it in hundred different ways, the Vicar of Christ must be romantically overwhelmed.
We were there during the time of Pope John Paul II. Our small group, fourteen only left, expressed our love by shouting at the top of our voices: “John Paul two, we love you, John Paul two, we love you…Philippines! At the same time each of us was waving a tiny Filipino flag. I saw the Pope looked at us for a short while but that short while was full of heavenly bliss that culminated our Holy Pilgrimage.
PAPAL AUDIENCE
At the lobby of Hotel San Giorgio, Rev. Fr. Dennis Meim celebrated Mass at 6:00 a.m. This was followed by a quick breakfast then we walked to the terminal for a ride to the Vatican City. We arrived at St. Peter’s Square at 8:30 a.m. but were allowed to enter only after another half-hour.
There was a very big crowd and to keep everything in order needed a lot of people specially the security aspect.
We were assigned on the twenty second row in front of the canopy where the Pope was going to sit. Disabled people were seated on the right side of the canopy. We were surrounded by people who came from all corners of the world: British, Portuguese, Indonesians, Guatemalans, Polish, American Indians and many others.
Audience with the Pope ended at 1:00 o’clock in the afternoon. We proceeded to a nearby Chinese Restaurant. After lunch I separated myself from the group. I went back to the Basilica of St. Peter to visit the Catacomb. I took picture of the tomb of St. Peter and that of Pope John XXIII.
I failed to enter the Museum I failed to bring enough Lira. Going back to the hotel gave me a little problem because I did not know where to buy the ticket until someone helped mo how to use the machine nearby.
We met some Filipinos also on tour then later a lone member of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I did some window shopping around where I accidentally met brothers Robert and Domingo from the Philippines. We went to dinner afterwards.
After a little rest we started packing for a trip to the Philippines the following day..
There was a very big crowd and to keep everything in order needed a lot of people specially the security aspect.
We were assigned on the twenty second row in front of the canopy where the Pope was going to sit. Disabled people were seated on the right side of the canopy. We were surrounded by people who came from all corners of the world: British, Portuguese, Indonesians, Guatemalans, Polish, American Indians and many others.
Audience with the Pope ended at 1:00 o’clock in the afternoon. We proceeded to a nearby Chinese Restaurant. After lunch I separated myself from the group. I went back to the Basilica of St. Peter to visit the Catacomb. I took picture of the tomb of St. Peter and that of Pope John XXIII.
I failed to enter the Museum I failed to bring enough Lira. Going back to the hotel gave me a little problem because I did not know where to buy the ticket until someone helped mo how to use the machine nearby.
We met some Filipinos also on tour then later a lone member of Jehovah’s Witnesses. I did some window shopping around where I accidentally met brothers Robert and Domingo from the Philippines. We went to dinner afterwards.
After a little rest we started packing for a trip to the Philippines the following day..
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
OUR SECOND SHARING
The first time I shared with you I said that back home I was the speaker of the house. But I failed to tell you who my wife was. Well, she was the Chairman of the Committee on Ways and Means and the Secretary of Finance. I handled the Committee on Entertainment and Religious Affairs.
As I have always been saying, a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and other religious venues was a childhood dream of mine. But all I was able to attain then during my younger days was a chance to participate in a musical game called “Trip to Jerusalem”. If not for the committee on Ways and Means and the intelligent financial maneuvering of my wife plus the insistent invitation of Letty Meim this wouldn’t have been possible.
God’s ways were for ever mysterious. Often He used other people as instrument to make things possible. Like in my case, God used Letty and my wife for me to have the chance to follow His foot steps. He probably used me to bring cheers to the group.
But a pilgrimage to me had several aspects, like the social aspect, the historical aspect, the spiritual aspect as well as your favorite aspect, the shopping escapades. It was sometimes a kind of status symbol. And if you noticed that lately I have been relatively quiet, it was because I was trying to evaluate as to which of the different aspects was gaining a bigger ground.
I was not embarrassed to admit that if not for my wife I would never experience joining a pilgrimage. Each of us was playing a big role. While Fr. Dennis was providing us with the necessary spiritual nutrition, his mother Letty was very often catering to our gustatory needs. To me, everything that was happening had a message and truly God was in constant dialog with us.
When God allowed the breakage of Dra.Paderna’s porcelain plate I thought God was only reminding us of that time when He broke the first tablet of the Ten Commandments because the Israelites were sinning while Moses was on top of Mt. Sinai. Other little incidents that we were experiencing were God’s voice whispering to us something. But the question was, were we listening?
Two days after our arrival to the Philippines I shall be handling a seminar on Marital Preparedness. My audience shall consist of boys and girls who sooner or later shall contemplate on getting married.
In my outline I was going to discuss a lot about love. The love as symbolized by a heart, by a rose, by a ring or by an upward arrow entwined with a hanging T, the symbol of male and a female united. I’ll also talk about love as symbolized by Cupid. I’ll discuss love of Concupiscence, love of Benevolence, mutual love, crush, infatuation and even the confusing love-like feelings.
We always say that God is Love and in this pilgrimage it was that kind of love referring to God that I thoroughly learned. While we were doing the Via Dolorosa, one by one, these qualities of God’s love occurred into my mind.
During the Last Supper, Jesus said: “Do this in memory of Me”, to remind us that True Love is REMINDFUL.
During is Agony in the Garden of Getsemane Jesus said: “Thy will be done”, telling us that t rue love is OBEDIENT.
True love is COURAGEOUS as He showed when He accepted the verdict of death at the Sanhedrin.
When He was scourged at the pillar and crowned with thorns, He did not complain to emphasize that true love is PERSEVERING.
When He carried the cross, it was very heavy as it contained the sins of the world, yet, He did not complain because He wanted to say that true love is STRONG.
True Love is PATIENT as shown when He fell down, stood up again and continued walking with the heavy cross.
He allowed Simon Cireneo to help Him carry the cross to show that true love is HELPFUL.
When He met the women of Jerusalem He said: “Don’t cry for Me, cry for yourselves and your children” because He wanted to let them realized the true love is UNDERSTANDING.
During the crucifixion He shouted: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing “, teaching that true love is FORGIVING.
True love is also CARING, as shown when He said to Dimas: “Today, you will be with me in Paradise”.
From the cross He said: “Woman, behold your son; son, behold your mother” because He trusted them and was saying that true love is TRUSTING.
True love is REDEEMING as proven when He died to save the whole world.
Ha also allowed His Holy and Blessed body to be laid peacefully in the tomb to show the lesson that true love is PEACEFUL.
Most of all, true love is TRIUMPHANT as proven when He resurrected from the dead.
To tell you frankly when we were doing the Via Dolorosa I wasn’t disturbed or distracted by those shouting vendors around those noisy shops. I imagined and felt that when it was happening it was even worse be cause people were a laughing, shouting, spitting at Him and kicking Him endlessly.
Our chance to see the treasures of Topkapi Palace and the Grandeur of other places and then the chance to see the relics of St, John Bosco and those of many other Saints was to me the most enlightening moment of this pilgrimage.
The Ottoman Sultan of Topkapi Palace was long gone as well as the Savoy family of Turin’s Royal Palace. They left behind priceless material treasures good only for the eyes of the living to behold.
St. John Bosco and all those other Saints also left this world but they left behind not only magnificent Churches but Churches of people, the Mystical Body of Christ, and religious congregations that will continue to propagate their mission here on earth.
Now my question is… We, the Pater Noster group of pilgrims, when we leave this world someday, what shall we leave behind us?
Let us not be satisfied just leaving behind us material things that we bought during our shopping escapades. Let us leave behind memories of each other, memories of our experiences, memories of our transformations.
Let us all practice love as exemplified by the Way of the Cross.
As I have always been saying, a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and other religious venues was a childhood dream of mine. But all I was able to attain then during my younger days was a chance to participate in a musical game called “Trip to Jerusalem”. If not for the committee on Ways and Means and the intelligent financial maneuvering of my wife plus the insistent invitation of Letty Meim this wouldn’t have been possible.
God’s ways were for ever mysterious. Often He used other people as instrument to make things possible. Like in my case, God used Letty and my wife for me to have the chance to follow His foot steps. He probably used me to bring cheers to the group.
But a pilgrimage to me had several aspects, like the social aspect, the historical aspect, the spiritual aspect as well as your favorite aspect, the shopping escapades. It was sometimes a kind of status symbol. And if you noticed that lately I have been relatively quiet, it was because I was trying to evaluate as to which of the different aspects was gaining a bigger ground.
I was not embarrassed to admit that if not for my wife I would never experience joining a pilgrimage. Each of us was playing a big role. While Fr. Dennis was providing us with the necessary spiritual nutrition, his mother Letty was very often catering to our gustatory needs. To me, everything that was happening had a message and truly God was in constant dialog with us.
When God allowed the breakage of Dra.Paderna’s porcelain plate I thought God was only reminding us of that time when He broke the first tablet of the Ten Commandments because the Israelites were sinning while Moses was on top of Mt. Sinai. Other little incidents that we were experiencing were God’s voice whispering to us something. But the question was, were we listening?
Two days after our arrival to the Philippines I shall be handling a seminar on Marital Preparedness. My audience shall consist of boys and girls who sooner or later shall contemplate on getting married.
In my outline I was going to discuss a lot about love. The love as symbolized by a heart, by a rose, by a ring or by an upward arrow entwined with a hanging T, the symbol of male and a female united. I’ll also talk about love as symbolized by Cupid. I’ll discuss love of Concupiscence, love of Benevolence, mutual love, crush, infatuation and even the confusing love-like feelings.
We always say that God is Love and in this pilgrimage it was that kind of love referring to God that I thoroughly learned. While we were doing the Via Dolorosa, one by one, these qualities of God’s love occurred into my mind.
During the Last Supper, Jesus said: “Do this in memory of Me”, to remind us that True Love is REMINDFUL.
During is Agony in the Garden of Getsemane Jesus said: “Thy will be done”, telling us that t rue love is OBEDIENT.
True love is COURAGEOUS as He showed when He accepted the verdict of death at the Sanhedrin.
When He was scourged at the pillar and crowned with thorns, He did not complain to emphasize that true love is PERSEVERING.
When He carried the cross, it was very heavy as it contained the sins of the world, yet, He did not complain because He wanted to say that true love is STRONG.
True Love is PATIENT as shown when He fell down, stood up again and continued walking with the heavy cross.
He allowed Simon Cireneo to help Him carry the cross to show that true love is HELPFUL.
When He met the women of Jerusalem He said: “Don’t cry for Me, cry for yourselves and your children” because He wanted to let them realized the true love is UNDERSTANDING.
During the crucifixion He shouted: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing “, teaching that true love is FORGIVING.
True love is also CARING, as shown when He said to Dimas: “Today, you will be with me in Paradise”.
From the cross He said: “Woman, behold your son; son, behold your mother” because He trusted them and was saying that true love is TRUSTING.
True love is REDEEMING as proven when He died to save the whole world.
Ha also allowed His Holy and Blessed body to be laid peacefully in the tomb to show the lesson that true love is PEACEFUL.
Most of all, true love is TRIUMPHANT as proven when He resurrected from the dead.
To tell you frankly when we were doing the Via Dolorosa I wasn’t disturbed or distracted by those shouting vendors around those noisy shops. I imagined and felt that when it was happening it was even worse be cause people were a laughing, shouting, spitting at Him and kicking Him endlessly.
Our chance to see the treasures of Topkapi Palace and the Grandeur of other places and then the chance to see the relics of St, John Bosco and those of many other Saints was to me the most enlightening moment of this pilgrimage.
The Ottoman Sultan of Topkapi Palace was long gone as well as the Savoy family of Turin’s Royal Palace. They left behind priceless material treasures good only for the eyes of the living to behold.
St. John Bosco and all those other Saints also left this world but they left behind not only magnificent Churches but Churches of people, the Mystical Body of Christ, and religious congregations that will continue to propagate their mission here on earth.
Now my question is… We, the Pater Noster group of pilgrims, when we leave this world someday, what shall we leave behind us?
Let us not be satisfied just leaving behind us material things that we bought during our shopping escapades. Let us leave behind memories of each other, memories of our experiences, memories of our transformations.
Let us all practice love as exemplified by the Way of the Cross.
SIDE TRIP ToColle Don Bosco and Asisi
COLLE DON BOSCO
After breakfast we visited Colle Don Bosco, a little village in the area of Morialdo about 13 km. from the City of Turin. We celebrated Mass at the lower Church after which a Salesian Priest who was very fond of songs toured us to the area.
We visited Don Bosco’s house and that of his brother Joseph. It was the small shrine commemorating John’s dream at the age of nine, and the upper Church of the Temple of Don Bosco. Then we lunch at the Restoro de Maria Margereta (named after the mother of St .John Bosco. Way back to Turin, the ladies enjoyed shopping. Dinner was Espada Real along via Po.
A PEEP AT ASISI
After breakfast the following day we left at 7:30 am. for a trip to the town of Asisi proceeding back to Rome.
On the way we sang Happy Birthday to our driver, Claudio. Songs and jokes followed this. Outside it was chilly and foggy.
At 11:00 a.m. we stopped for our personal necessities all the while I was taking notes of the number of tunnels we were passing through. I counted 100 before we reached Resorente Rogello at 1:00 p.m. for lunch.
We reached Asisi at 1:00 p.m., visited the monumental complex of the Basilica of San Francisco. We were able to enter only the lower Church and saw the tomb of the Saint at the crypt due to time pressure.
On the way home we exchanged jokes. I counted 15 more tunnels, a total of 115. The views on both sides of the highway were simply exhilarating. We recited the Rosary in the bus then had dinner at La Tana Dei Re.
After breakfast we visited Colle Don Bosco, a little village in the area of Morialdo about 13 km. from the City of Turin. We celebrated Mass at the lower Church after which a Salesian Priest who was very fond of songs toured us to the area.
We visited Don Bosco’s house and that of his brother Joseph. It was the small shrine commemorating John’s dream at the age of nine, and the upper Church of the Temple of Don Bosco. Then we lunch at the Restoro de Maria Margereta (named after the mother of St .John Bosco. Way back to Turin, the ladies enjoyed shopping. Dinner was Espada Real along via Po.
A PEEP AT ASISI
After breakfast the following day we left at 7:30 am. for a trip to the town of Asisi proceeding back to Rome.
On the way we sang Happy Birthday to our driver, Claudio. Songs and jokes followed this. Outside it was chilly and foggy.
At 11:00 a.m. we stopped for our personal necessities all the while I was taking notes of the number of tunnels we were passing through. I counted 100 before we reached Resorente Rogello at 1:00 p.m. for lunch.
We reached Asisi at 1:00 p.m., visited the monumental complex of the Basilica of San Francisco. We were able to enter only the lower Church and saw the tomb of the Saint at the crypt due to time pressure.
On the way home we exchanged jokes. I counted 15 more tunnels, a total of 115. The views on both sides of the highway were simply exhilarating. We recited the Rosary in the bus then had dinner at La Tana Dei Re.
TRIP TO TURIN
We checked out from Hotel San Giorgio in Rome after breakfast that followed the Mass at the lobby. It was a very exhilarating long trip by bus. We left Rome at 7:45 a.m. and arrived at Turin at around 8:00 p.m. with almost three hour stop over.
We passed Florence where we bought some gifts for the children. The Filipina wife of the Italian owner gifted me with a beautiful leather wallet.
A bus ride was enjoyable and interesting. Scenarios changes every now and then. It was like watching a fast-paced movie. Both sides of the obviously very clean highway were romantically enchanting and generally very green. There were beautiful houses here and there amongst plantations of different orchards and flowers.
I counted 115 tunnels penetrating the bases of big, wide mountains. After dinner at Restorante Alberoni we billeted at Forte Agip Hotel.
Some of our previous companions did not join us to Turin. They stayed in Rome to go back to Manila the following day. We were 14 left to continue the pilgrimage.
With the Cebu group out, the fun was somehow diminished much more so, because we have been walking a lot and were not completely freed from jet lag due to constant change of hotel. We also had to adjust to different food styles and unfamiliar recipes being offered to us at different restaurants. As we went on I tried to assess which one had greater influence, the spiritual aspect of the pilgrimage or the fun of shopping and hopping to different places, being exposed to different people.
We passed Florence where we bought some gifts for the children. The Filipina wife of the Italian owner gifted me with a beautiful leather wallet.
A bus ride was enjoyable and interesting. Scenarios changes every now and then. It was like watching a fast-paced movie. Both sides of the obviously very clean highway were romantically enchanting and generally very green. There were beautiful houses here and there amongst plantations of different orchards and flowers.
I counted 115 tunnels penetrating the bases of big, wide mountains. After dinner at Restorante Alberoni we billeted at Forte Agip Hotel.
Some of our previous companions did not join us to Turin. They stayed in Rome to go back to Manila the following day. We were 14 left to continue the pilgrimage.
With the Cebu group out, the fun was somehow diminished much more so, because we have been walking a lot and were not completely freed from jet lag due to constant change of hotel. We also had to adjust to different food styles and unfamiliar recipes being offered to us at different restaurants. As we went on I tried to assess which one had greater influence, the spiritual aspect of the pilgrimage or the fun of shopping and hopping to different places, being exposed to different people.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
TOUR OF ROME
We were brought by our tour guide Elizabeth, to the important landmarks in the City of Rome, such as the Basilica of Rome, dedicated to both St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist. It was also know as the Basilica of St. John Latrina.
It was beautiful. At the very end just behind the altar was the tomb of Pope Martin V.
We were also shown the monument of Victor Emmanuel, Pizza Venezia, Fontana di Trevi, Via Veneto, the Triumph Ark and the Colosseum. In the afternoon Ricky Ordoñez guided us to the Vatican City at the Basilica of St. Peter. We were not able to visit the catacomb, the Sistine chapel, as well as Rome’s Treasury.
People were told to get out as the biggest church in the whole world was being prepared for a special mass for the students.
Elizabeth was an old lady, a professional tourist guide. She knew by heart what she was saying except that she said them too fast, I could hardly take notes.
When I visited Rome in 1978 on my way home from Nigeria, I toured the city alone on a limousine. Due to limited time I didn’t have a chance to visit the Catacomb, the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum but even now that we have all the time, we were forced to go out to give way to a very important celebration. I hoped that before we go back to the Philippines, Ricky Ordoñez shall have the time to bring me to those places.
I was also dying to see Mona Liza “in person”, and the Tomb of St. Peter, our clan’s Patron Saint. Tomorrow we shall go to Turin as part of our pilgrimage… to follow the footsteps of St. John Bosco.
It was beautiful. At the very end just behind the altar was the tomb of Pope Martin V.
We were also shown the monument of Victor Emmanuel, Pizza Venezia, Fontana di Trevi, Via Veneto, the Triumph Ark and the Colosseum. In the afternoon Ricky Ordoñez guided us to the Vatican City at the Basilica of St. Peter. We were not able to visit the catacomb, the Sistine chapel, as well as Rome’s Treasury.
People were told to get out as the biggest church in the whole world was being prepared for a special mass for the students.
Elizabeth was an old lady, a professional tourist guide. She knew by heart what she was saying except that she said them too fast, I could hardly take notes.
When I visited Rome in 1978 on my way home from Nigeria, I toured the city alone on a limousine. Due to limited time I didn’t have a chance to visit the Catacomb, the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum but even now that we have all the time, we were forced to go out to give way to a very important celebration. I hoped that before we go back to the Philippines, Ricky Ordoñez shall have the time to bring me to those places.
I was also dying to see Mona Liza “in person”, and the Tomb of St. Peter, our clan’s Patron Saint. Tomorrow we shall go to Turin as part of our pilgrimage… to follow the footsteps of St. John Bosco.
DELAYED FLIGHT
Early In the morning after breakfast we checked out from Pullman Hotel and transferred to the airport for our domestic flight to Istanbul. At Ataturk International Airport we were delayed for more than two hours. It was a chance for me to mingle with a Jordanian mother and her two daughters, Nada and Linda, both very pretty.
I taught them “Tupipel” and the song “Leron-leron sinta”. In return they taught me a Yugoslavian song.
We arrived at Leonardo de Vince Airport in Rome at around 9:00 p.m. (local time). We went directly to a restaurant for dinner. We then were billeted at Albergo San Giorgio Hotel, Via G. Amendola, Rome.
At the airport, Iliana (of the travel agency) and the driver Claudio, met us along the way where we were briefed by Ricky Ordoñez about our personal securities as well as security of our belongings. We heard from him that while in Rome it was not important only that we do what the Romans do but that we must be observant and careful of what some young Romans might attempt to do to us.
In short, it was a bit scary briefing about the present crime situation in Rome. But Filipinos were quite used to that kind of atmosphere quite common back in Quiapo, Divisoria and even at the tourist belt.
Some of our companions, separated from us to go back to the Philippines. Mother and son, Gloria and Vincent Salazar; Dra. Judy Lao and her sister Jing Lai; Mr. and Mrs. Vicente and Nena Ong; and Ms. Cora Lorber
I taught them “Tupipel” and the song “Leron-leron sinta”. In return they taught me a Yugoslavian song.
We arrived at Leonardo de Vince Airport in Rome at around 9:00 p.m. (local time). We went directly to a restaurant for dinner. We then were billeted at Albergo San Giorgio Hotel, Via G. Amendola, Rome.
At the airport, Iliana (of the travel agency) and the driver Claudio, met us along the way where we were briefed by Ricky Ordoñez about our personal securities as well as security of our belongings. We heard from him that while in Rome it was not important only that we do what the Romans do but that we must be observant and careful of what some young Romans might attempt to do to us.
In short, it was a bit scary briefing about the present crime situation in Rome. But Filipinos were quite used to that kind of atmosphere quite common back in Quiapo, Divisoria and even at the tourist belt.
Some of our companions, separated from us to go back to the Philippines. Mother and son, Gloria and Vincent Salazar; Dra. Judy Lao and her sister Jing Lai; Mr. and Mrs. Vicente and Nena Ong; and Ms. Cora Lorber
AILMENT, ANYONE?
Early in the morning we all motored to Pergamon where we visited the ruins of the biggest of the Seven Churches, also known as the Red Salon dedicated to the gods of Egypt. We climbed the Acropolis which was adorned with several Temples: That of Dionicious and that of Adriamus, both no longer there but at some museums.
At the Agora where at the center used to stand the statue of Augustus and Hemet, gods of tourists and of commerce respectively. The famous altar of Zeus was now in Berlin Museum. There was also a big theater.
We also visited the Asklepion, an important health center of antiquity. There, was a sacred spring that still gave off fresh cold mineral water said to be curative. We were told the legend of the two snakes as symbols of Aescolapious. It was a story about a rich person who was rejected at the medical center as they thought he was dying anyway. On the way out at the Via Sagrada he saw two snakes moving towards a cup of medicine but when the snakes drunk the content they died of poisoning but when the sick person drank it he was cured.
At one side of the Temple of Telesporos, the son of Aescolapious, we were shown the different sections where healing took place. Underneath were several compartments where relaxation (and finally healing) of patients took place.
It was an ancient belief that snakes don’t die. They just changed their skin every year. Following the belief was the building of this relaxation compartments underground so the patient felt the underground life of the snake .
On our way to Pergamon we were all happy exchanging jokes. On our way back we all took a nap then passed by the biggest mall of Izmir.
Mass at 6:30 p.m. After t he Gospel, Fr. Dennis gave time for sharing . I was the first one to stand up saying that way back home I was the speaker of the house and that what I was going to say was sort of a conjugal sharing.
I want ed to share many things but I didn’t want to dominate t he situation, so I just mentioned how God touched us by using small incidents to tell us His message. I told them that being away from the family for the first time, we realized that we should love our family with all our heart; comparing our country with the progress of the countries we visited, our country appeared pitiful. We realized that we should love our country with all our strength.
Having been exposed to different religious beliefs like the Ultra Orthodox Jews, the Islam and others, we realized that we should love our religion with all our soul. But after following the footsteps of Jesus we realized even further that we should love God with all our mind, with all our heart, with all our strength and with all our soul.
The group called me Father Abraham as a result of that action song about Father Abraham that I introduced during our cruise to the Golden Horn.
The next morning I was also the life of the party inside the bus on our way to Pergamon. I shared some of my religious and funny songs as well as my green, brown and divine jokes.
It was a terribly tire some day but a very fruitful one indeed. We were all dead tired that we all slept like a log..
At the Agora where at the center used to stand the statue of Augustus and Hemet, gods of tourists and of commerce respectively. The famous altar of Zeus was now in Berlin Museum. There was also a big theater.
We also visited the Asklepion, an important health center of antiquity. There, was a sacred spring that still gave off fresh cold mineral water said to be curative. We were told the legend of the two snakes as symbols of Aescolapious. It was a story about a rich person who was rejected at the medical center as they thought he was dying anyway. On the way out at the Via Sagrada he saw two snakes moving towards a cup of medicine but when the snakes drunk the content they died of poisoning but when the sick person drank it he was cured.
At one side of the Temple of Telesporos, the son of Aescolapious, we were shown the different sections where healing took place. Underneath were several compartments where relaxation (and finally healing) of patients took place.
It was an ancient belief that snakes don’t die. They just changed their skin every year. Following the belief was the building of this relaxation compartments underground so the patient felt the underground life of the snake .
On our way to Pergamon we were all happy exchanging jokes. On our way back we all took a nap then passed by the biggest mall of Izmir.
Mass at 6:30 p.m. After t he Gospel, Fr. Dennis gave time for sharing . I was the first one to stand up saying that way back home I was the speaker of the house and that what I was going to say was sort of a conjugal sharing.
I want ed to share many things but I didn’t want to dominate t he situation, so I just mentioned how God touched us by using small incidents to tell us His message. I told them that being away from the family for the first time, we realized that we should love our family with all our heart; comparing our country with the progress of the countries we visited, our country appeared pitiful. We realized that we should love our country with all our strength.
Having been exposed to different religious beliefs like the Ultra Orthodox Jews, the Islam and others, we realized that we should love our religion with all our soul. But after following the footsteps of Jesus we realized even further that we should love God with all our mind, with all our heart, with all our strength and with all our soul.
The group called me Father Abraham as a result of that action song about Father Abraham that I introduced during our cruise to the Golden Horn.
The next morning I was also the life of the party inside the bus on our way to Pergamon. I shared some of my religious and funny songs as well as my green, brown and divine jokes.
It was a terribly tire some day but a very fruitful one indeed. We were all dead tired that we all slept like a log..
PALACES AND MUSEUMS
We did made a cruise of the Istanbul Bogazi. It was the winding straits separating Europe and Asia. Along its shores were surprising splendors of past and present beauties.
The shore was beautifully lined with hotels, old wooden villas known as “Yuli”, palaces of marble, great fortresses and small fishing villages.
We started from Eminom and alternately enjoyed both Asian and European sides. We passed by the Palace of Dalnabache and the pavilions of the Yidiz Palace . At the edge we saw the Ciruyan Palace which was now a grand hotel after restoration.
One of the longest bridges in the world linked Asia and Europe. After the bridge we saw Beylerbevi Palace that we visited after lunch.
Behind the palace was the Camlica Hill, the highest point of Istanbul. There we saw several beautiful and elegantly dressed people amongst marching brides and grooms.
On the Europen side, we saw the contrasting elements of the old and the new in the Ottoman wooden villas of Arnavutkoy as well as the luxurious apartments of Bebek.
We were face to face with the fortresses of Rumeli Hisari and Anadola Hisari. We too, saw the Goksu Palace also known as Kakukso Palace. Then, the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge which then was only six years old . Hidic Palace was also seen in the wooded garden. It was now a hotel.
Other important landmarks shown to us were:
Beyloz (Abraham Pasa) Korum Woods.
Bay of Tarabya on the European side.
Towns of Buyukidiri and Sariyer.
The whole day was totally a
The shore was beautifully lined with hotels, old wooden villas known as “Yuli”, palaces of marble, great fortresses and small fishing villages.
We started from Eminom and alternately enjoyed both Asian and European sides. We passed by the Palace of Dalnabache and the pavilions of the Yidiz Palace . At the edge we saw the Ciruyan Palace which was now a grand hotel after restoration.
One of the longest bridges in the world linked Asia and Europe. After the bridge we saw Beylerbevi Palace that we visited after lunch.
Behind the palace was the Camlica Hill, the highest point of Istanbul. There we saw several beautiful and elegantly dressed people amongst marching brides and grooms.
On the Europen side, we saw the contrasting elements of the old and the new in the Ottoman wooden villas of Arnavutkoy as well as the luxurious apartments of Bebek.
We were face to face with the fortresses of Rumeli Hisari and Anadola Hisari. We too, saw the Goksu Palace also known as Kakukso Palace. Then, the Fatih Sultan Mehmet Bridge which then was only six years old . Hidic Palace was also seen in the wooded garden. It was now a hotel.
Other important landmarks shown to us were:
Beyloz (Abraham Pasa) Korum Woods.
Bay of Tarabya on the European side.
Towns of Buyukidiri and Sariyer.
The whole day was totally a
THREE OF THE SEVEN CHURCHES
It was along trip to Sardis, Capital of Lydia. Sardis was one of the seven Churches that the Apostles went on a mission during their time. Lydia was historically important because it was the first country to use coins.
Here in Sardis we saw the ruins of the ancient civilization. We celebrated Mass at the gymnasium at the area where the ancient swimming pool was. After lunch I saw a new toilet sign: TUVALETLER then KAPIN for female and ERKEK for male.
We then moved to Philadelphia and visited the ruins of the Church of St. John where we saw and actually touched several ancient acropagus (tombs).
Finally we visited the ruins of TREPEMEZARLIGI (Thyatira ). Just around the area we found a pharmacy and were able to buy our medical needs.
Had picture-taking with some happy local pupils who were astonished why we came “to see the stone (?)”.
COMMENT:
During a pilgrimage when many people were traveling together, minor medical problems should be expected. That was the reason why I brought with me all the necessary medicines I would or might need.
One of the pilgrims, Mr. Dequitos, probably the eldest in the group at 78 was afflicted with gallbladder infection. Thanks God, Dra. Ludy Lao brought some antibiotics that made him well in two days.
The most common aside from high blood pressure was upper respiratory tract infection. Many run out of their supplies and buying from a local pharmacy was not always easy. Sometimes the needed medicine was not available, even interpreter couldn’t decipher the brand and the generics. My abdominal problem was well taken cared off but my allergy was a bit erratic. I got it from the first hotel, the Grand Betagne inGreece, from the blanket probably or from the linen. It started as a few rashes on my thighs. I used my ointment but it quickly spread to my legs and buttocks. Taking my Fabahistin made me really groggy making my companions suspect that I was nursing a big problem or absorbing a bad vibration. Thanked God I found a drug store that sold steroids.
So, many of the girls were coughing severely that when one started even during the Mass, others followed and a symphony of coughing and sneezing went on. Thanked the Lord that Terry was not afflicted by any ailment. I knew how bad it could be the moment she started coughing.
Here in Sardis we saw the ruins of the ancient civilization. We celebrated Mass at the gymnasium at the area where the ancient swimming pool was. After lunch I saw a new toilet sign: TUVALETLER then KAPIN for female and ERKEK for male.
We then moved to Philadelphia and visited the ruins of the Church of St. John where we saw and actually touched several ancient acropagus (tombs).
Finally we visited the ruins of TREPEMEZARLIGI (Thyatira ). Just around the area we found a pharmacy and were able to buy our medical needs.
Had picture-taking with some happy local pupils who were astonished why we came “to see the stone (?)”.
COMMENT:
During a pilgrimage when many people were traveling together, minor medical problems should be expected. That was the reason why I brought with me all the necessary medicines I would or might need.
One of the pilgrims, Mr. Dequitos, probably the eldest in the group at 78 was afflicted with gallbladder infection. Thanks God, Dra. Ludy Lao brought some antibiotics that made him well in two days.
The most common aside from high blood pressure was upper respiratory tract infection. Many run out of their supplies and buying from a local pharmacy was not always easy. Sometimes the needed medicine was not available, even interpreter couldn’t decipher the brand and the generics. My abdominal problem was well taken cared off but my allergy was a bit erratic. I got it from the first hotel, the Grand Betagne inGreece, from the blanket probably or from the linen. It started as a few rashes on my thighs. I used my ointment but it quickly spread to my legs and buttocks. Taking my Fabahistin made me really groggy making my companions suspect that I was nursing a big problem or absorbing a bad vibration. Thanked God I found a drug store that sold steroids.
So, many of the girls were coughing severely that when one started even during the Mass, others followed and a symphony of coughing and sneezing went on. Thanked the Lord that Terry was not afflicted by any ailment. I knew how bad it could be the moment she started coughing.
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