Between the Giant and Rationality

In Manila, it is not uncommon to see mothers spending countless hours playing bingo, tong-its’ (local version of poker), or mahjong while neglecting household chores.

Mothers are mindless of their children crying and unaware that they are burning hard-earned money their husbands had brought home from scavenging or construction work.  Look around; there would always be dirty kids running and playing and not giving a damn if they have taken a bath.  There would also be kids who, instead of being in school, must work daily to help their parents make ends meet.

Their jobs vary, from digging the muddy and heavily-polluted seabed of Manila Bay to getting pieces of metals, which they call ‘kalakal’ (merchandise) to sell at opportunistic junk shops, to carrying heavy loads of fruits and vegetables in the early hours of the day.

In the streets, it wouldn’t be a surprise to see jobless but non-disabled men on drinking sprees in front of ‘sari-sari’ (a small family-operated shop typically attached to the house) stores.  They laugh heartily at their senseless conversations because they don’t even know whether they’ll have something to feed their family the next day.  They flaunt their big bellies, their tattooed arms, and worst of all; they brazenly display unproductiveness.

On the next block, it is also hard not to notice a group of teenagers, most thin as bamboo and nutritionally deficient like dying carnations.  A few of them are playing ‘Cara y Cruz (heads or tails), some would be smoking weed, others are snorting ‘shabu‘ (crystal meth), and some would be sniffing ‘rugby (contact cement) filled plastic bags to get their highs to mask out their miseries temporarily.  These youngsters are not few.  Like a vicious cycle, they spawn like rabbits and would join similar ill-fated, innocent souls in sordid existence.  But is it all about fate?

Take a casual walk on the streets, and you will notice how informal settlers -squatters- have mushroomed throughout the country, whether in urban or rural areas.  The streets are where we would realize that we have not seen and experienced the worst.  Scrap materials made into shanties occupied by many as fifteen.  They try to fit themselves in a ramshackle abode as small as a bathroom of a typical middle-class family.  Here, “houses” are contraptions of recycled wood, flattened biscuit containers, plastic rice sacks, damaged tires, tarpaulins of stupid politicians or B-movie ads, and an assortment of junk.  No architectural plans, no concrete, no hollow blocks, no metal trusses, no hope.

In search for a better life had led to this...
A common sight in the urban areas of the Philippines due to overpopulation

There will be mixed emotions on seeing the appalling living conditions of the increasing number of Filipinos.  Some would feel sorry because of the plight of the children.  Their parents could barely provide them with toys.  There’s just one meal in a day, Education good only until the 8th grade,  A  house comparable to those made for pigeons, and a whopping PHP 150 (about US$ 3) a day take-home pay by the breadwinner.  What a fucking way to live a short life.

To observant eyes, how some parents managed to have too many children -without any means of providing them a good foundation in childhood like regular meals, decent shelter, education, clothing, toys, playtime, etc. – clearly borders on ignorance.  But, regardless of how we come up with why these people are wallowing in poverty, there is only one thing clear to everyone: the Philippines has swiftly become an overpopulated hell.

The problems that stem from overpopulation are beyond count.  One frustration is that locally-produced agricultural products would always be insufficient to feed the entire population because there is a mismatch between the producer and the consumer.  The people -as well as consumption- overpower production.  Surely and steadily, more and more Filipinos are filling their pie holes with imported products, which is a bane to the economy.

Another hassle presented by population sprawl is job opportunities.  Millions would compete against each other over a few job openings; it would be a dog eats dog situation.  Small companies tend to hire only seasoned workers and don’t prioritize new graduates.  College degrees would be useless; diplomas would be senseless.  Only a handful with the skills (and the right connections & recommendations) would be lucky enough to secure employment, and the rest would be jobless, unable to support their families.

Overpopulation is a bane for any government.  Three or more patients would share a filthy bed, one with tuberculosis and others with dengue fever.  In the ER, people needing immediate care will have to wait.  Victims of vehicular accidents would have a very slim chance of survival because only three exhausted doctors are attending to twenty emergency cases.

Inside the maternity ward of an overcrowded hospital in the Philippines

The educational system is another government service that would suffer greatly due to overpopulation.  How can we have quality education if one classroom holds one hundred-plus pupil?  How can these students focus on learning if classrooms are like a can of sardines?

Can senior high school students comprehend solid measurement or even the basics of Algebra if their classroom is as hot as an oven toaster?  How can grade ten students appreciate the epics of Homer and Ovid or the novels of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky?  They do not even have a decent chair to sit in or a hygienic restroom to relieve themselves.  Or even a comfortable library where they could read books and write poems?

What about the teachers?  Can we expect them to be effective?  By holding a class in a jam-packed room, the precious time allotted to teaching would be wasted calling attention and reprimanding the foolish ones.  With a ballooning population, schools would turn into a chaotic mecca.

An elementary classroom crowded with students is typical in the Philippines.

As stated earlier, overpopulation will bring infinite aggravation.  As this currently troubles us, most Filipinos are unaware of the inconvenience it brings to our economy and our future.

It is also worth noting that overextended families come from the poorest sector of the population.  A friend of mine told me about a friend who has nine children, the eldest being twenty-two and unable to finish high school.  The youngest is in the first grade, barely bringing a meal to school because of abject poverty.  The bold, or should I say, the stupid father has no other source of income but through driving a tricycle which he does not even own.  The head of the family brings home PHP 150 a day, and it is up to the readers to imagine how the family gets through with the daily expenses.

How can a financially-strapped couple summon the courage (or have the common sense) to have such a big family?  Could this be attributed to the Filipinos’ penchant for the “Bahala-na-ang-Diyos” (God will provide) mentality?

What could be the culprit in this vicious cycle of boundless reproduction?  Is it the administration?  I’m sure the government is doing all it can to educate people about family planning.  For today’s youth, is it easy to access pornographic and lustful websites?  Perhaps, it could be a factor, but it is controllable.  Working or not, some countries censor the Internet to filter the materials its people can see.  Is it the people themselves?  The root causes of overpopulation depend on many factors.  But, in the Philippines, the Catholic Church is both a powerful and unstoppable force regarding the pyramiding population.

The church is opposed to artificial contraception, and this belief dates back to the first centuries of Christianity.  Such acts are intrinsically disordered because of the view that all sexual acts must be open to procreation.  There was even a point when the church allowed birth control – but only through abstinence.  The Vatican even released a document entitled “Vademecum for Confessors,” which stated, “the Church has always taught the intrinsic evil of contraception.”

Furthermore, the church had always pointed to the Holy Bible as it lies in Genesis 1:28, which states, “God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and multiply.  Fill the earth and govern it.  Reign over the fish in the sea, the birds in the sky, and the animals that scurry along the ground“.  The fanatics and the Bible warriors do have a point, though.  Who else is to govern all the blessings this world has to give but the people?  Who else is to harvest the products of the fruit-bearing trees and cut the wood afterward, not minding landslides and pollution, but the people?  Who else is to fish the sea in a greedy manner using dynamite and toxic chemicals but the people?  Who else would carve the beautiful and natural shapes of mountains and hills to get precious stones but the people?  Who else is to hunt the rare and exotic animals for money’s sake but the people?

We, the people, are commissioned by the Creator to be the stewards of nature.  And, as the logic goes, we should multiply.  Even if reproducing is limitless.  Even if multiplying equates to self-destruction, isn’t it more sinful to bear when future generations have to suffer?

Who can contest the church’s uptake and exposition of inscriptions when, for a thousand years, they have been used to punish those who dare to question, to subject them to inquisitions, to tell everyone that the Creator’s grace and mercy are exclusive to those who kneel before man-made images purchased in the streets of Tayuman, and to baptize an innocent infant before he even gets a chance to choose the faith he prefers.

The Manila Cathedral in Intramuros serves as the Episcopal See of the Archbishop of Manila.

It has become our habit to follow and believe whatever the man in the white suit, whose car displays the Veritas sticker, tells us.  “We follow without question.  ” “We follow with the highest reverence.” “We follow with the fear of hell if we do not follow.”   It is funny that after the priest chants a Latin phrase, of which the significance or meaning is unknown to many of us, we instinctively chant ‘amen.’  It is funny that the Filipinos, the majority of whom are Catholics, abstain from eating pork during Lent to shun extravagance, only to fill their dining tables with more expensive seafood fares like lobsters, grilled blue marlin, and giant prawns.  These make me want to fry hotdogs using floor wax.

Church crusaders should be more realistic in taking a stand regarding the increasing population and traditional faith.  While priests are busy preaching ‘multiplication’ and procreation, overpopulation is markedly taking its toll on the Filipinos – hospitals becoming smaller, schools becoming canned sardines, job opportunities becoming elusive, farmlands turning into subdivisions virtually overnight.  While the gross domestic product (GDP) grows, our per capita income becomes smaller.  And, as always, the rich become richer and the poor.  Whatever!

Is this what the Creator planned our country to be?  I doubt He wants most of us to live in dire poverty and disorder.  I also suspect that the church accurately amplifies the Creator’s orders based on how He wants things to be.  A little coherence and correction would not destroy the credibility of the church.  The church should also review its stand on procreation’  in light of the changing world.

The price of enlightenment is just too expensive for the country and the people that have long been under the grip of a compelling and untouchable force.

ALLFLAC and High-Definition Audio Players

If you’re a hard-core music enthusiast but still listen to your collections on your phone, then you’re missing out a lot.

And if you’re an Apple fanboy still buying songs through the iTunes Store and listening to them on your iPhone or iPad, you’re simply paying a hefty premium for the brand.

Songs bought from the Apple store are encoded in Apple’s version of the venerated (especially during the Napster years) MP3 format, AAC (Apple Audio Codec). It is streamed at 128 kbps bit rate with a sample rate of 44.100 kHz.  AAC (and MP3) is a ‘lossy’ format but is very popular due to its small file size due to compression.

Although you can rip all your CDs to a lossless format within iTunes using ALAC (Apple Lossless Audio Codec), the resulting files are huge and playable only on Apple devices.

FLAC (Free Lossless Audio Codec) is an open-source musical format that gives you bit-perfect copies of CDs. It also supports ‘tags’ that enable you to retain artists, album covers, lyrics, etc., on the format.

With FLAC, you’re not only getting half the space occupied by a CD with no loss in quality, but you’re also going to be able to get up to 24-bit at 192 kHz of music.  That’s studio-master quality.  MP3 and AAC are no match for FLAC.

Rare is the true high-definition audio enthusiast who listens to his FLAC collection on a smartphone. For Android phone users, even with the rock-bottom prices of microSD cards these days, it’s obvious that smartphone makers are too focused on improving camera features.

For iPhone users, it’s going to look ugly if you want to stick in a Lightning-capable microSD card adapter to expand the memory capacity of the unit, as there’s no memory expansion slot on those phones. And, the saddest part of all, you can only transfer pictures and videos using the adapter—no music files. Apple simply wants you to pay $970 for their top-of-the-line unit with 256 GB built-in.

Picture of a MicroSD Card with its Adapter. Fr...
Picture of a MicroSD Card with its Adapter. Frontal and Back. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

But even most high-end smartphones from Samsung and Apple don’t have the top-tier, audiophile-grade chips to support FLAC at 192 kHz/24-bit, nor do they offer native DSD (direct stream digital) decoding, which is the best way to listen to streaming music.

While high-quality audio always comes with a price, this doesn’t mean you’ll have to break your piggy bank.  So, what are the cheaper options?

For content, there’s nothing that will beat allflac.com.  The U.K.-founded but now Chinese-owned music website has one of the cheapest rates around, and you’ll be surprised to find some of the songs you can’t find elsewhere, including the iTunes Music Store.

ALLFLAC contends to have the world’s largest lossless music collection

What’s more, not only do they have albums for as low as $1.99, but you can also download them in either FLAC, M4A, or MP3 (or all) format.  There is no membership fee, and you can fund your account for as little as $10 with no balance expiration.

A handful of high-definition audio players are available, especially in Asia, Europe, and the North American markets. These include the Kickstarter-funded, Neil Young-backed PonoPlayer and players from well-known companies like Sony, Onkyo, Pioneer, and others.

But one company stands out because of its low price without sacrificing quality: FiiO. 

The FiiO X1 (2nd generation) model is highly recommended to budding audio enthusiasts with limited budgets. It retails for US$120 but could be had for as low as US$80, discounted if you shop around.

It’s a mid-entry model, but it surely does not lack features found in their more expensive ones. Most importantly, it supports microSD cards up to 256 GB, or approximately 8,700+ FLAC songs (at 30 MB per song). That’s a lot of studio-master-quality tunes to keep you in the groove.

The FiiO X1 (2nd generation) high-def audio player in action

The company’s catchphrase is “Born for Music and Happy,” and, indeed, you’ll be more than happy once you have listened to some of your music collections – in the FLAC format.  Of course, using one of their portable high-definition players.

The difference in sound quality will astound you.

The Hostility of Colonialism

Who would not want a new car or an SUV? In a poverty-stricken country like the Philippines, it is sardonic to see that while most people still complain about having inconsiderable money to make ends meet, the majority still quench their insatiable thirst for imported cars, be it through installment or cash.

Go to the nearest highway, and you will see a fleet of Fortuner, Montero, Impreza, Accent, and many more Japanese, American, or European cars passing by the ramshackle jeepney—pure mockery at its very best.

For the coffee lovers and those pretending to be such, who can resist a posh place like Gloria Jean’s or Seattle’s Best to get a tall and expensive frap, frape, prafe??  Well, whatever the spelling is, and a small and costly blueberry cheesecake. 

After all, nobody wants to miss the complicated bar counter behind which all the blenders and grinders are displayed as if to remind you they are processing your cappuccino. Have you noticed how foreign coffee shops have sprouted all over the archipelago and slowly but surely replaced malls, parks, fast food chains, and cockpit arenas?

Well, that is just coffee. Let us switch to technology. When it comes to cellular phones or other gadgets, Filipinos will never be the last human race to use the latest Apple-manufactured communication device, despite the fact that it is really expensive.

A phone is a necessity these days, but it makes me wonder why an average Pinoy worker, despite the daily earning of the minimum wage, which just suits his payment for house rental, electricity, water bill, and food, opts to purchase this product of the late Steve Jobs over the cheaper phone. A forty-five thousand iPhone over a three thousand locally made phones?  Come on, it’s no longer a matter of freedom or choice —it’s already wanton frolic.

English: La Loma Cemetery in Manila (1900) use...
English: La Loma Cemetery in Manila (1900) used as a fort by the Filipinos, shelled by Dewey. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apart from purchasing imported cars, brewed coffee, and sophisticated phones, other things violate our sense of nationalism.  A perfect example is those Filipinos who spend their life savings just to set their feet in foreign countries for vacation. Filipino travelers often blurt out, “There is a promo for a one-week stay at the Venetian in Macau; let’s grab it,” or “I will never get to visit Singapore again, so why don’t we grab the Cebu Pacific promo?”.

Visiting foreign countries and cities more than touring local places like Dingalan, Pagudpud, Puerto Princesa, or even the overly abused Boracay gives everyone the impression that there is no decent place to visit in the Philippines at all. It’s no wonder why travel agencies promote scenic areas in other countries like The Forbidden City, Tiananmen Square, Sao Paulo Beach, and others. They know how to flatter Filipinos because they can see through us.

There is no accurate rationale for why we are into anything external or foreign. The closest thing to support the notion of colonial mentality among Filipinos is that a handful of colonizers have conquered us. In Teodoro Agoncillo’s book History of the Filipino People (1960), the author stated that long before the arrival of the Spaniards in 1521, we had been in constant trade with the Chinese people. The trade, which was then called the “Porcelain Trade,” probably started centuries before the advent of the Sung Dynasty. The Chinese exchanged silk, porcelain, colored glass, beads, and ironware for the Filipinos’ hemp cloth, tortoise shells, pearls, and yellow wax. The exchange of goods started as early as 960 AD before the accidental arrival of the Spaniards in 1521. And so it happened.

Original caption (cropped out): Native boats a...
Original caption (cropped out): Native boats and outriggers Description: (cropped out): Boats of the upper type were used to land the U.S. troops at Manila. One of those in which the Astor Battery landed sank in the surf just before reaching shore. The natives carried the men ashore on their shoulders. The lower boat is a fisherman’s craft used by the Negritos, who shoot fish in the clear water with bows and arrows. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The arrival of the European conquistadores brought a new phase and meaning to the lives and mindset of the Filipinos. We learned to integrate the Spanish language into our own, even naming the Philippines in honor of the Spanish king. Provinces in the Philippines were renamed with Spanish names such as Nueva Ecija and Vizcaya, Laguna, Isabela, La Union, Antique, Marinduque, Negros Occidental, and Oriental and Valle de Compostela. More than this naming of places, the greatest influence the Spaniards have left us is faith in Roman Catholicism. Filipinos at home set up an altar in the Hispanic tradition, adorned with Catholic images, flowers, and candles as they have internalized observation of fiestas, devotion, rosary, baptism, and many more.

Along came the Americans. After the Spaniards were defeated by the Americans led by General George Dewey in the war dubbed the “Battle of Manila” in 1899, the Americans took the liberty of controlling and influencing the Filipinos. During the first years, there were some conflicts between the US and the Philippines, but during World War I, they came together, and the Filipinos fought alongside the Americans, and their relationship became much friendlier.

As we solidified our pact with the land of the free and the home of the brave, we became more attached to their customs and traditions. Nobody can deny that the greatest contributions of Americans are democracy and education. It is impossible to cite all the things we inherited from Uncle Joe because they are innumerable. American influence on Filipino clothing is apparent these days.

We often see wearing belts, suspenders, tennis shoes, bonnets, high heels, and cosmetics. For food, Filipinos are accustomed to U.S.-based staples like hamburgers, sandwiches, oatmeal, ketchup, apple pie, mayonnaise, hotdogs, steak, ice cream, cornflakes, and many more.

Seventy-one years have passed since the Philippines tasted true freedom and democracy, yet its beloved citizens are still, or should I say, intentionally glued to anything international in concept.

Our colonial mentality should no longer be attributed to the colonizers because, for a long period of time, they are gone. After the Second World War ended in 1945, the US declared that we were an independent nation and that we would, from that moment, stand on our own, build our nation, govern our people, and make ourselves proud of what we could make of our country.

Yes, we have been standing on our own. For quite some time, we have been electing our leaders, drafting our constitution dedicated to democracy, being blessed with job opportunities, and seeing the ingenuity of many of our fellow countrymen in business, arts, academia, and even sports. These things, when accumulated, would entail national pride and patriotism. But the “accumulation” never happened in the Philippines.

English: Depiction of the flag of the Philippi...
English: Depiction of the flag of the Philippines, as conceived by Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo. Created with Inkscape. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Nationalism and patriotism are things that are not difficult to conceive. It is just a matter of self-worth, confidence in the citizens’ competence, and pride. Just take a look at Japan, its people may be ridiculed for being awful English speakers but nobody can take away the fact that it is a land with citizens deeply attached to their flag, to their country, and to their identity. For despising imported goods, Japan could produce products of their own in the fields of automotive, heavy industries, and gadgets.

Everyone is familiar with brands such as Toyota, Mitsubishi, Honda, Nissan, Subaru, Yamaha, Kawasaki, Sony, Sanyo, and so on. The same principle of nationalism applies to countries like Germany, Italy, France, and even China.

While more and more countries are gradually realizing the essence and beauty of selfhood, the story is different here in the Philippines. Here, the culture of the bandwagon is a cliche: We have been deeply in love with anything Western in concept. We always want to exclude ourselves from the bondage of traditionalism, and although it does not manifest verbally, we always deny our being Filipinos because we love imported goods.

Just how badly have we opposed our being Filipinos? Instead of settling for a more affordable and locally made brand of leather shoes, a typical Filipino would hand his ever-hidden credit card to the ethical staff at the counter in exchange for the expensive and imported Kickers, Hush Puppies, Timberland, or Oleg Cassini. I’m sure the reason is unrelated to durability and longevity issues.

What about the means of transportation, particularly cars? Try going to EDSA and anyone would notice that many billboards post inviting marketing strategies like Vios, 20K Downpayment, No Hidden Charges.

Car manufacturers know that the Philippines is and will forever be a third-world country, yet they still thrive on selling cars to us. The business is so good that everywhere you turn, there will always be car casas regularly visited by an average businessman, a call center agent, a teacher, and even a college student whose dad is a seafarer.

The funny thing is that people purchase cars for reasons beyond practicality – that they work near their residence and don’t need cars at all, that they know that the streets of Manila are just like a huge parking space during rush hours, that they know that sooner or later they would have their car pulled out by the bank because they could no longer afford to pay for it. Pathetic as it may seem, Filipinos buy imported cars, not for a reasonable cause but to delight their ego.

Gadgets are undeniably a necessity nowadays. Living in a fast-paced world, people need smartphones for easy access to emails, messages, and important and unimportant calls.

We are not Amish people whose contentment is based on how they shrug off what is contemporary. But while it is clear to Filipinos the vitality of possessing gadgets, particularly cell phones, it is still an enigma as to why we settle for expensive and imported brands. Is it the speed?

I bet locally made phones are equally fast to process. Is the phone user-friendly? Writing text messages on My Phone, Torque, and Cherry Mobile is also easy. Is it the design? The size? The weight? The color? Or is it the brand?

To realize just how strong our attachment is to Apple, Samsung, Asus, and other foreign brands, just look at the students, people in the BPO industry, people in the corporate world, service crew in a fast-food chain, construction workers, and even the jobless and the bystanders. They all have this phone with an apple with a bite at the back. Parents would give their kikay daughters an imported phone on the latter’s birthday, saying, “You deserve nothing less, anak.”  

A service crew could afford an iPhone 7 even if it meant paying a staggering thirty percent interest for twelve months. It’s truly amazing. What is funnier is that the same things provided by these imported phones can also be bought from locally made ones…for a cheaper and reasonable price.

Then we have our fellow kababayans who love to travel, as discussed earlier. They go to France to see the tall, metal structure of Paris. They travel to Hong Kong to get a seat at the Disneyland roller coaster and take a picture with Mickey and Donald.

They travel to Cambodia to see the largest religious monument in the world, to see the lovely bones of the victims of Pol Pot, and to see where the film “The Killing Fields” was taken.

They travel to London to ride The Eye, take a selfie with Big Ben in the background, walk-in Trafalgar Square, watch Ed Sheeran’s concert at Hyde Park, and experience the bloody English weather.

They travel to Kenya to pose with African children, ride a Land Rover, see the animals at the Serengeti Plain, and hunt and shoot poor antelopes for their antlers.

The farther they travel, the happier they become. As the number of countries they visit increases, they become more satisfied and proud.

Ancient Filipinos utilized terrace farming to ...
Ancient Filipinos utilized terrace farming to grow crops in the steep mountainous regions of the northern Philippines. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The author sees no problem with these explorations and escapades for travel, which equates to education. When one travels, he has first-hand experience and account of what is happening worldwide. After all, it is the money they are spending.

What is bothering me is that while these Filipinos crave the elegance of international tourist spots, they fail to notice the grandeur of the Philippines. What about visiting Camarines Norte for surfing, Baguio for the cold weather and upland fruits and vegetables, Puerto Princesa for an underground river tour, Ilocos Norte for sand surfing, Quezon province for a series of pilgrimage, and even Intramuros for a look back at how our beloved Rizal spent his last few hours.

It is painful to see Filipinos flock to distant lands for a leisurely visit and neglect the scenic places of our realm. It is as atrocious as not wanting mom’s homemade adobo and preferring to eat at a swanky restaurant.

Why Filipinos are suckers of anything Western in the concept remains a riddle. Youngsters who play basketball in the streets of Manila are often seen wearing Nike. Yes, Nike is a company that employs minors in China. Ask them why such brand is chosen and not MSE or Natasha and you will be bombarded with answers like “It’s light, it’s durable, it’s classy, it unleashes the athleticism in me, blah, blah, blah”.

True enough, the aspect of toughness is unquestionable. The catch is that why do some kiddos and teenagers wear imitation Jordans and Kobes? I’m sure it is not a matter of the reliability of the shoes because class A’s are made with substandard materials.

The painful truth is that we are only after the brand—to be noticed, seen as prosperous, to join the bandwagon, to wear what the wealthy people wear, and, worst of all, to be accepted.

For automotive enthusiasts, purchasing a Cavite-manufactured owner-type jeep is almost taboo. A typical dad could never force his teenage daughter to be taken to school riding in a filthy owner-type jeep because, for the poor girl, it is baduy. A typical white-collar guy would not want to go to Starbucks, parking his stainless owner jeep next to Foresters and Ecosports. For sure, it will be photographed by the Conyos and it will be ridiculed for being a “fly in a glass of milk”.

Nowadays, what is cool should be the possession of pickup trucks ridden by the tough guys in Texas (even though pickup trucks are built for farms or ranches and not for urban areas like Manila), possession of a muscle car that is a prototype of what Vin Diesel used in his famous movies about racing, possession of Maserati, Ferrari, and Lamborghini even if these cars were designed only for wide freeways, something which we do not have.

Can you imagine what it is like driving a Lambo in Manila’s chaotic and narrow streets? The Philippine-made owner-type jeep is the perfect toy to roam our dilapidated streets. Again, when it comes to cars, the concept of colonial mentality overpowers our sanity.

Readers might question the author’s dislike for buying imported stuff. Critics would say, “It is our hard-earned money after all, and we have all the liberty this world has to offer when it comes to purchasing whatever we want to buy”. True enough, we are entitled to our decisions, and nobody has a right to tell us to buy this and not that, to do this and not that.

But, the underlying dangers and drawbacks of colonial mentality are as bad as self-destruction. Naïve are people who love to sport their Jordans, Ford Everest, Fire Floss from Le Couer de France, and Sperry Top-Sider without directly realizing its effect on our economy and our morality as Filipinos. By buying Jordans, we strip our local shoemakers of their chance to show their creativity, their brilliance, and their chance to earn. By buying iPhones, not Cherries and Torques, we backhandedly tell our homegrown electronics engineers, technicians, and IT experts that their toil does not merit our applause and support.

We always degrade locally made gadgets and often complain about them being difficult to use. But we should also realize that the very reason local companies could not manufacture better versions is that they lack the support of Filipinos. Should we buy their Cherries, the company would generate enough funds to upgrade their phones and tablets. Moreover, by buying Fortuners and Monteros, we are closing the doors to possibly producing our automotive brand.

If you visit the Sarao Jeep Company factory in Las Pinas, you will see how grubby and sordid the place is. Workers are without sophisticated machinery, without definite buyers, and worst, without hope. But just as dirty and blackened the hands of these patriotic workers are, Filipinos’ hands are also dirty. We can never wash our hands off the dirt of our distrust in the capability and competence of our local car makers. I wish that in my lifetime, I can drive a vehicle made in the Philippines and manufactured by Filipinos.

The damage of colonial mentality does not only extend to the economic aspect. More than currency, colonialism deeply cuts through our sense of national pride, leaving us bleeding until the death of our morality. By buying goods from other countries, the notion that the Philippines cannot produce anything good will boomerang to us, and it will haunt even our posterity.

Colonial mentality is a vulgar display of our dislike for anything Filipino, which reflects our self-hatred. But worse than patronizing anything internationally, we long to be what we are not. We Filipinos, for a long period of time, have done idiotic things to escape our beautiful identity.

We blonde our hair, we apply skin whitening lotion, we imitate the accent of the stupid newscaster from the BBC news, and we indirectly deny our being Filipinos. This reality crushes me in pieces.

We may not possess the wealth of superior countries or have those Ferrari, Aprilia, and Ducati factories regularly featured on the National Geographic Channel.

We may not have the tallest building on earth, the fastest train, or a cable ride overlooking snow-capped mountains like those in the Rockies of Denver, Colorado. We may not have a pointed nose, superior white skin, or the “bloody” British accent.

But Filipinos are superior in a different sense. We are beautiful people whose resiliency has defied and overthrown oppressors in the past.

Our soil is fertile enough to grow delicious fruits and vegetables. Despite the hardships of life, we are beautiful people who flaunt contagious and genuine smiles to encourage others.

And since we are beautiful, we can produce beautiful things in science, arts, economics, technology, and the like.

There is no need for colonial mentality, self-hatred, or distrust of our potential.

We are beautiful.

(Ronald B. Polong is a frustrated writer who removes his dentures before he sleeps and places them in an empty Cheez-Whiz bottle with water. He lives in Nueva Ecija with his wife, twin boys, a brood of roosters and hens, ducks, and an old dog.)

iTunes Issues with Windows 10 Creators Update (64-bit)

Two days ago, I received an e-mail from Microsoft’s Insider Program about the availability of Windows 10 Creators Update (OS Build 16179)

But, if you’re a music lover who spends a lot of time listening to your collection using iTunes on your PC, specifically one running the 64-bit flavor of Windows 10, here’s a caveat.

Don’t update to the latest version of Windows 10 – Creators Update.

Even if you have the latest version of iTunes (currently, 12.6.0.100) on that PC, the Windows 10 Creators Update will screw up your previously perfectly working iTunes, and you will regret why you updated it in the first place.

Here are some of the frustrations, as well as observations, that you’ll have with iTunes after the Windows 10 Creators Update:

  • iTunes will not launch, forcing you to restart your PC.
  • If iTunes launches after the restart, it will hang up in almost every way you use it, forcing you to restart or terminate the program.
  • Only iTunes seems to be affected by the Windows 10 Creators Update. Is Microsoft forcing you to uninstall iTunes? Is it bullying you into utter frustration and resignation to use its Groove Music app instead? But you don’t want to mess up your iTunes library by uninstalling and reinstalling it, especially if you have thousands or even a million songs in your collection.
  • Reinstalling or repairing iTunes will not solve the issue. Don’t even bother uninstalling it and dealing with all the hassle that comes with re-installing it. It didn’t work despite several tries.

What if you had installed Windows 10 Creators Update and ruined your day because you can’t listen to your music collection via iTunes anymore?

Make sure that you “Go back to an earlier build” (found under System -> Windows Update -> Update history ->Recovery option).  My OS Build before the messy Creators Update was 14393.1066.

But then again, there’s another caveat: You have to do that within 10 days of updating to Windows 10 Creators Update.

Playful in Palawan: Life in the Philippine Countryside Series

Day 1 – Feb. 5, 2017 – (Sunday): Puerto Princesa on Two Wheels

The place is orderly and clean” was our initial impression of Puerto Princesa as our driver made his way around the city towards Socrates Road after he picked us up in an old, white van at the small airport in this capital city of Palawan.

Subli Guest Cabins would be our overnight shelter in the city that day, as Matthew and Johan would be jetting in from Manila the next morning for our northbound, overland trip to the touristy and popular but more remote El Nido.

We arrived in high spirits at the guest cabins—made of concrete and bamboo—despite our red-eye flight from Siem Reap, which included a 6-hour sleep-depriving wait inside Manila’s newer and spacious Terminal 3 airport.

After verbally agreeing with the young and bubbly receptionist that we would rent their only Honda scooter for PHP 600 (USD 12) that day, we wasted no time showering and getting some sleep as soon as we checked in.

One of the hammocks underneath the huge mango tree that dominates the compound
Quiet surroundings provided deep sleep despite the spartan amenities inside these huts
This 125 cc Honda scooter would take us around the city – and beyond!

Refreshed from our three-plus hours of rest, we strapped our helmets and ventured out at 3 PM with a bagful of dirty clothes—only to run out of gas just a few meters away from the compound.

Ruby flagged a passing ‘tricycle’ (a common form of paid transport in the country similar to ‘tuk-tuks’ – a motorcycle with a ‘sidecar’ for extra seating passengers), and they returned with petrol in a 2-liter PET plastic bottle. After we finally got going, we filled up the tank with another PHP 90 (USD 1.80) at a nearby Shell gas station along Malvar Road.

Riding a scooter, motorcycle, or even a bicycle is one of the simple joys of life that we, as human beings, tend to overlook. With the wind on your face and the sights and sounds of the surroundings all over you, one’s sense of adventure is elevated by having that constant awareness of the dangers on the road so that you hold on to dear life on that handlebar.

We saw a body of water to our right immediately after passing by the public market, so we made a right turn at the next intersection. The road narrowed markedly and took us to a sweeping descent at a small park—the Puerto Princesa Baywalk. Along its stretch were numerous open-air food stalls that overlooked a cove part of the Palawan Sea.

It was just about 4 PM, but two or three food stalls were already doing some business, so we opted for K’na Boyet sa Baywok, where a group of tourists occupied a couple of tables.  

Once seated, the aroma of that familiar calamansi and soy sauce-flavored BBQs popular all over the archipelago sharpened the hunger fangs even more.  We sidled towards the charcoal-fed grill, where several pans filled with assorted sea offerings vied for our attention.

Helmet off, Ruby at the Baywalk in Puerto Princesa
Ruby enjoys her green mango shake while waiting for the food to arrive

An order of grilled “pork liempo” (grilled, marinated pork belly), shrimp sautéed in butter and garlic, rice, a mango shake & two bottles of San Miguel Light beer set us back for about PHP 750 (USD 14.50).

With our bellies full, we then set our sights on Baker’s Hill and asked for directions from the very amiable waitress, who suggested that we might as well visit Mitra Ranch, as both were in the same area.

Amidst moderate traffic, as it was a weekend, it didn’t take us long to find our way towards the city’s main highway, Puerto Princesa North Road, but we had to ask directions from locals twice to get to the junction of PP South Road that would lead us to our destination We dropped off our laundry bag at a shop along the cemented two-lane highway while trying to find our way towards Baker’s Hill.

Like most roads in the city outskirts, the narrow road up towards Baker’s Hill was so puzzlingly unmarked that we overshot it by a few miles despite asking directions two or three more times—the last one from a mechanic working on a wheel of a small truck along the grass-lined fringes of the highway. The tall trees behind the shop gave us glimpses of the rice fields. They would punctuate the highway the farther we got away from the city proper.

Baker’s Hill was just a family compound with—you guessed it—a bakery, an open-air restaurant, and a souvenir stall. It became a ‘snack-stop‘ for visitors going to Mitra Ranch. The bakery tries hard to become a major tourist attraction in the city simply through word of mouth and recommendations by past visitors on travel websites. The bakery sells mostly pastries and snacks, notably the varieties of the ‘hopia‘ (thin, flaky pastry filled with mung bean paste).

Locals and tourists mill around the entrance to the bakery at Baker’s Hill, Puerto Princesa, Palawan.
Inside the bakery – all the good stuff for the sweet tooth.

Just a few meters uphill, Mitra Ranch offered a better view of the city atop the hill, horseback riding, and zip-lining. The place was opened to the public after the death of the family patriarch, Ramon ‘Monching’ Mitra, Jr., an esteemed senator. Unfortunately, he lost in the 1992 Philippine presidential elections despite being tagged as the early favorite to win it all.

After we picked up our laundry and headed back to the city, dusk was upon us. We had decided to have an early bedtime since we needed to be up early to meet the couple at the airport for our morning trip to El Nido. Moreover, with our weather-beaten faces and aboard two small wheels that offered minimal comforts, tiredness had crept in on our bodies once again.

Once we reached the city proper and got lost once more, it was already dark. We then found ourselves buying some delicious ‘lechon (roasted pig) for dinner from a makeshift stall in front of a shop that sold various solar-powered devices.

After handing us the take-out goodie in a plastic bag, the middle-aged vendor summoned us at the sidewalk’s edge and pointed to an intersection where we would make a right towards Malvar Road.  His instructions sounded like music to our ears.

It was about 8:30 PM when we made the final turn back to the comforts of Subli’s compound aboard our trusty scooter.

Day 2 – Feb. 6, 2017 – (Monday): The Road to El Nido 

It was about 8:45 in the morning, and the air was crisp with a light gust from the east.  It made the flowers -protected by a low, concrete encasement- sway to its rhythm.  I spotted the driver holding a sign with Matthew’s name on it while he waited just a few yards away from the Puerto Princesa airport exit gates and chatted with him.

Just an hour ago, we checked out at Subli and took a tricycle to meet Matthew and Johan for our van ride to El Nido.  Matthew had arranged the rides and our accommodations in that popular destination north of Puerto Princesa.  We would be out of the airport by 9:15 aboard a van that badly needed a new set of shock absorbers.

Ruby at Subli’s dining area the morning we checked out to meet Mat & Johan
Johan, Mat & Ruby at Palawan’s Puerto Princesa airport

The driver briefly stopped by a hotel with a cheesy name‘ Lucky Garden Inn– and picked up a young couple from the U.K. who joined us for the trip.  The four of us would stay for a night in Puerto Princesa at this hotel after our El Nido escapade.

D’ Lucky Garden Inn’s very eclectic landscaping left an impression on us.

The very long (almost 5 hrs.) and tiring ride, mainly along the two-lane but cemented Puerto Princesa North Road, was uneventful except for a few stops where the driver loaded up on a few more passengers to augment his earnings.  A mandatory stop was at an ‘agricultural checkpoint‘ where we bought some drinks from a nearby store.  At kilometer 131, just along the highway, we had our lunch break at Elfredo’s Manokan & Seafood Restaurant in the sleepy municipality of Roxas.

Mat & Johan about to clean up their plates at Elfredo’s restaurant
Along the Puerto Princesa North Highway towards El Nido

We would pass through undulating roads along the fringes of the municipalities of San Vicente and Taytay (the first capital of Palawan dating back to the Spanish colonial period and where the small Fort Santa Isabel – constructed in 1667- still stands until, on a small rotunda,  we bade goodbye to the PPNR and veered west towards the Taytay-El Nido National Highway.

Previews of what to expect in El Nido manifested along the T-ENNH as the road steepened as it followed the Malampaya River. Majestic views of a few islands would behold our eyes as soon as the van crested a steep hill.

We finally arrived at the terminal in El Nido at about 3 PM, and a short tricycle ride (PHP 50 or USD) whisked us to our hotel’s downtown office along Calle Hama.  

A woman in her mid-20s with hints of Middle Eastern ancestry confirmed our reservations and radioed for 2 smaller tricycles to pick us up.  She also gave some insights and impressions about the entire place and handed out a simple map of El Nido, including a list of massage parlors, bars, and restaurants nearby.

Simple map guide in downtown El Nido, Palawan, provided by Caalan Beach Resort.

The road leading to Caalan Beach Resort was too narrow—barely a meter wide in some areas—so on several occasions along the way, either our ride or the incoming one had to stop and give way to the other.

The cemented road followed the shoreline until you hit an unsealed portion lined by coconut, banana & other small fruit trees as well as a variety of ornamental plants with nipa huts, slow-slung houses, two-story concrete hostels, sari-sari’ stores (a small, family-operated shop that sells sodas, snacks & various household goods typically attached to the house), makeshift food-stands, dogs by the roadside, all mingled in a locale called “Barrio Taiyo(Taiyo Village).

At the resort, we were greeted and offered welcome drinks by Bee, who informed us that she’s simply helping her parents run the place along with her husband, John when they’re in the country for a vacation.  She added that her father -married to a Japanese- was an engineer from South Korea who decided to settle in this part of Palawan when he got assigned near the area during a road construction project.

We finally settled in our second-level room with a balcony that offered magnificent views of several islands in the bay, the immediate & largest one among them being Cadlao Island.

That’s our room on the right, 2nd level inside the Caalan Beach Resort in Barrio Taiyo, El Nido, Palawan
This is the view from the terrace if you stay in the room seen in the preceding picture.

Mat and Johan checked out the beachfront but found it too rocky and the nearby waters too shallow to take a quick swim, so we all just had a quick nap before heading back to town to have dinner after briefly waiting out the mild drizzle brought by dark clouds that passed by.

The beachfront at Caalan Beach Resort was too rocky to take a quick swim in.

Calle Hama is the unofficial party street in El Nido since it’s where most tourists end up after their sorties along the beach.  It’s a narrow, interior road; hence, it is closed at night to all vehicular traffic –except for tricycles owned by resorts along the coast– to allow enough space for all the touristy goings-on.

Because of poor or even non-existent urban planning and zoning, it suffers, like most remote bayside resorts all over the country, from its failure to exude any charm or appeal. The area is simply a potpourri of haphazardly erected food stalls, souvenir shops, hostels, and houses, where locals, backpackers barely out of their teens, and elderly tourists mingle and simply wander around.

After trying a few pieces of barbeque on a stick from a sidewalk stand, we got bored with the area, as it was a bit early, and took another tricycle ride towards Bulalo Plaza. 

We stopped just a few meters after we exited the junction of Rizal Street and the Taytay-El Nido highway.  Unless you’re a local, and although the place is open 24 hours every day, it is easy to miss as the small signage is overwhelmed by the cliff walls and the surrounding greenery.

We climbed a few steps into the eatery and were ushered to a table right in the middle of the place by a pleasant, effeminate waiter who introduced himself as Megan.  The entire setup looked more like a kitchen converted into a restaurant with about 8 wooden tables and bamboo benches in a squat, elevated location that fronted the highway.

Two orders of the house special, bulalo (beef shank soup with vegetables), a plate of seafood sisig (a variety of minced seafood sautéed in a sizzling skillet topped with chilis and fresh egg), rice, sodas, and a bottle of beer, were more than enough for our stomachs. Afterward, we walked back to town to shake off some cholesterol deposits.

Along the way, Mat and Johan inquired from a roadside travel and tour stall about the earliest trip back to Puerto Princesa on Wednesday to catch the underground cave trip on the same day. Mat balked at the idea after learning that they would not only barely make it to PP on time but that he would also lose the money he paid for our already-booked and scheduled return trip.

Mat and Johan — just outside a travel & tour stall along the Taytay-El Nido National Highway

Back at Calle Hama to get our free ride back to the resort, the trio went shopping for souvenirs while I scoured some cold beer in cans.  I managed to get some, but they were not cold, so I searched in vain for some ice.  Our driver suggested I could just ask them for free back at the resort, so our tricycle squeezed back into that narrow alley, its motor sputtering in the stillness of the early evening along the shore.

Ruby showed up later in the room holding a block of ice wrapped in plastic that Bee had given her. While they all prepared their things for the island-hopping trip the next morning, I sat back on the bed to enjoy my ice-filled glass as I slowly poured the country’s best beer –San Miguel– into it.

It was a luxury I would regret in the next few hours, in fact, for the next few days.

Day 3 – Feb. 7, 2017 – (Tuesday): Island Hopping Tour Day 

Immediately after breakfast, John tapped on our door and informed us that we must prepare for the island-hopping tour by 9.  A few guests had already milled around the nipa-roofed gazebo, where we could see them choose and pick among several sizes and colors of snorkel gear neatly arranged atop a low table in the middle of the sandy floor.

Early morning in El Nido

Last night, however, my seemingly innocuous decision to ask for some ice for my warm canned beer resulted in vomiting episodes and several trips to the bathroom—bad water—that rendered me physically exhausted. But who wants to miss a cruise of the islands on a nice day in El Nido?

He prepared six other guests and us for what to expect during the ‘island-hopping’ tour and offered great tips on how to ‘survive’ the almost day-long water trip. Then, without John, our boat crew of four, led by a spunky Palaweña in her late twenties, herded us to a quarter-mile walk along the shore towards the deeper part of the bay where the resort-owned outrigger was moored.

Yesterday afternoon, before we headed downtown for our dinner, we had agreed to purchase island-hopping package C (hidden beaches and shrines), which began with almost an hour-long ride towards Tapiutan Island.  Our group was barely enjoying the waters in our snorkel gear when a coast guard band of two aboard a small motorboat waved us to move to a different location to protect the coral reefs in the area we were on.

Tapiutan Island from a distance

The next stop is ‘Secret Beach‘. It is accessible via a narrow portal that leads to a cove with shallow water surrounded by limestone walls that have witnessed a good slice of mankind’s history. The big boulders below the water make it an ideal place to waddle around and enjoy the sun.

Lunch aboard the boat consisted of a salad medley of cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, grilled pork liempo (pork belly),  steamed tahong (mussels), and grilled tambakol (skipjack tuna) complemented by slices of watermelon and pineapple. We also bought fresh coconuts from an enterprising vendor who sold canned soda and beer on a boat.

Boats converge in the calm waters on Matinloc Island, where island-hoppers have their lunch.

After lunch, our boat headed to Hidden Beach, which was the most difficult part of the trip for non-swimmers. One had to fight a swell near the edge of the cove amidst huge rocks constantly slammed with waves. At least two boat crews had to assist each guest who either couldn’t swim or wouldn’t dare venture into the dangerous waters.

The last leg of the tour was a brief stop at the Helicopter Island -so-called because its silhouette resembles a heli when viewed from a distance, where we took pictures of the majestic cliff walls.  We missed those beautiful sunset views as gray skies were the theme for the rest of the afternoon.

Matt & Johan at the shore of Helicopter Island, El Nido, Palawan
Bong – the web author- in El Nido, Palawan

It was almost 5 PM when we finally made the channel crossing back to the bay and a short walk along a narrow, tree-lined path leading to the resort’s back door, where some drinks and biscuits awaited us.

Day 4 – Feb. 8, 2017 – (Wednesday): Back to Puerto Princesa on a Bum Stomach  

My stomach felt better after a cup of tea and a Pepto-Bismol tablet. Breakfast consisted of two boiled eggs, as I was too weak and tired to go to the restaurant. The styrofoam box with my dinner lay untouched on top of the shelf.

Last night, after the boat trip, Mat and Johan went back downtown to get some food and check it out a bit more, while Ruby just opted to stay to help me out with my stomach bug.

We quietly packed all our stuff and our still-damp clothes, as the lack of breeze from the bayfront and the fact that it had been mostly overcast for the remainder of the afternoon after the boat trip didn’t help the somber mood.

A narrow tricycle with enough space for the 4 of us took us back to town for our ride back to Puerto Princesa.  At the bus terminal, I looked for our luggage while they took off on foot, searching for a pharmacy to get some anti-diarrheal tablets, electrolyte mix, and bottled water to stabilize my bum stomach on the long trip back to PP.

For reasons unbeknownst to us, we were transferred to another van loaded with 2 other passengers just a few miles out of El Nido.  The van was more comfortable, so we didn’t complain.  The return trip was uneventful except for a lunch stop at an open-air restaurant that offered a nice view of the hillside and a glimpse of the waterfront further down.

We all managed to doze off in the air-conditioned van along the way, maybe partly in anticipation of all the activities when we reached PP or partly because our bodies were still recuperating from those strenuous water activities we had yesterday.  Or maybe it was just another one of those sleepy, beginning-of-summer days in Palawan that’s perfect for a siesta?

By 2 PM, we were back in Puerto Princesa, and we had to wait for a few minutes at the odd mixed-business-and-living-room-like reception area of the enigmatic D’ Lucky Garden Inn—our overnight shelter for the day before we headed back to Manila the next morning.

The place had such an unusual appeal because of its maze of very narrow passageways that lead to several doors that will leave you guessing where they will lead you next.  I suspect the entire place is an ‘all-purpose lodge’ that can accommodate all patrons looking for a quick 3-hour ‘love motel’ service to monthly renters.

Mat had booked two separate rooms for us, and both had the unmistakable scent of a love motel, which I could simply describe as a mix of household bleach and a strong musk fragrance. Mat and Johan’s room even had a motif—a red mosquito-net-like fabric draped over the center of the double-sized bed.

One of the maze-like alleys inside D’Lucky Garden Inn – Puerto Princesa, Palawan

After settling down in our rooms and taking cold showers, we rested for the remainder of the afternoon until the couple took off again aboard another van for the ‘firefly watching‘ trip in an area of the Iwahig River where a penal colony is situated nearby. They would be the only takers for the PHP 1200 (USD 24) per head tour as the inclement weather discouraged other tourists.

Meanwhile, Ruby wandered around to sort out the entire compound while I stayed inside the room to battle the bacterial infection that had settled in my lower intestines. The numerous trips to the bathroom made me so hungry that the ham and cheese sandwich, fries, and a bottle of Sprite that I ordered did not last long on the serving tray.

Mat texted me to inform me that we were both already asleep when they returned from their trip by 9:30.

The following morning, they would report that while they enjoyed the food at the restaurant stop before they took the boat for the firefly watching, just a few of them showed up and failed to dazzle with their fireworks as it briefly rained during the trip.

Day 5 – Feb. 9, 2017 – (Thursday):  Puerto Princesa Airport in 3 Minutes

Since our one-and-a-half-hour flight back to Manila was scheduled for noon, just after having their early morning coffees, the trio took up on the offer of one of the receptionists- whose husband owns a tricycle- to give them a ride to Baker’s Hill and Mitra Ranch, at a discount.  Ruby returned to Baker’s Hill to buy that delicious hopia again, this time as ‘pasalubongs‘ (presents) for the folks back in Manila

The young couple at the zipline experience inside Mitra Ranch, PP, Palawan
Entrance to the former Mitra family residence in Palawan. It is now a family-run museum.

With renewed spirits after being in bed for almost 18 hours since we arrived, I decided to look around the place after a hearty breakfast of ‘cornsilog‘ (corned beef hash, fried egg, and fried rice). My bum stomach had markedly improved after the continuous intake of the electrolyte mix, cold Sprite, and Diatabs.

The ‘lucky garden’ was just across our room, so I made a few trips between the bathroom, the garden, and the restaurant just to the right. I took pictures of the surrounding areas to waste time waiting for the trio to return.

A nipa hut at the middle of the D’ Lucky Garden Inn’s interior garden
Probably the owner himself was the chief landscaping architect of the entire place

Sometimes, you visit a place, and one bad experience would be enough to ruin your entire perception of its people.  On the other hand, the friendliness of the people in a particular place could be so overwhelming that you wish you had stayed much longer.

Palawan is one of those places that could be categorized as the latter.  Its people will afford you just the right amount of personal space to simply introspect your life’s journey and enjoy what the island has to offer.

Ruby, Johan & Mat at Puerto Princesa airport’s boarding gate
Malaysian-owned Air Asia planes at Puerto Princesa airport

After the trio arrived, an almost brand-new white van picked us up at about 10:50 AM.  From PEO Road, it turned left towards Rizal Avenue, then turned right into an open gate after a brief moment.  After that very long trip to El Nido and back, we’re all surprised by that rather brief interlude of a ride to the airport.

At 10:53 AM, we quietly unloaded our bags from the van and headed to the Air Asia check-in counter for the flight back to Manila.

Adventures in Siem Reap: Khmer Kingdom of Lam Lot

During our short trip to Siem Reap to marvel at the spectacular temples in the Angkor complex – Angkor Wat is just the centerpiece in this massive Khmer kingdom- we learned not only about the ancient past but also how young Cambodians look up to the future.  Thanks to our young ‘tuk-tuk‘ driver, Lam Lot, and the universality of the English language.

Aboard his black-colored cart with distinctive purple seat covers, pulled by a 125 cc motorcycle, he informed us that he had invested about US$1450 ($550 for the cart and $900 for a popular Japanese-brand motorcycle) in his contraption after he left his all-around job at a hotel that paid him US$100 per month.

Taxis are very rare, especially on the outskirts of downtown Siem Reap, making tuk-tuks the most convenient way to get around the city. Although shops are abundant that rent out motorcycles, scooters, ATVs, and bikes, you’re on your own to figure out your way around.

Educated by Buddhist monks, Lam Lot is the epitome of the new breed of young Cambodians who are determined to not only forget the grim yet not-so-distant past and focus on the now but are also willing to embrace new technologies.

During the Pol Pot regime, simply being an intellectual was already a death sentence.  These days, thanks to the Internet and the tourism boom, young Cambodians are much more aware of what’s going on in and outside of their country and are also willing to step up to the plate to propel their country forward.

Ducks for sale: a young Khmer woman on her way to the market

Lot -he preferred to be called by that name -is employed by the hotel (Sekla Villa Angkor) where we stayed that has a stable of about 4 or 5 tuk-tuk drivers to transport guests around for free as a marketing ploy.

We became endeared to him because of his persistence in conversing with us in English, although we had to stick our ears to his mouth to comprehend what he meant.

Accompanied by hand gestures, we were able to relay most of what we wanted to accomplish while we toured the city.  He also refused to take our tips (but we persisted) for the trip from the airport to our hotel and informed  (yes, almost scolded) us that everything was part of the hotel deal.

Our young tuk-tuk driver proudly showed his social media profile on his smartphone

Before we headed to our room, we paid for the “grand circle tour” ($5) and the “sunset viewing” ($10) in one of the temples along the way, which made us wonder why the former didn’t already cover the latter. We also reminded the young lady receptionist that we wanted the same tuk-tuk driver who brought us in.

The next morning, immediately after we had our breakfasts, Lot greeted us with his sheepish smile and provided us with an overview of the grand circle tour of the Angkor complex using a map that he pulled out from the canopy of his tuk-tuk. He had also brought a cooler that he filled up with ice and several bottles of water.

Except for our lodging, we had done almost no research about the Angkor complex. We all thought that going to Angkor Wat was simply a matter of visiting another UNESCO World Heritage site in maybe a couple of hours, taking a few pictures, heading back to our hotel to rest, and then picking another interesting spot to visit in the city. How wrong we were.

Siem Reap, despite its eclectic blend of the old and new, its provincial and small city charm, had already instilled a mixed feeling of excitement and sadness inside me yesterday after I saw piles of garbage strewn all over the place just a few miles from the airport and inside the city proper.

A small creek floating with food take-out boxes and an assortment of plastic debris near our hotel didn’t help to contradict that sadness—which sometimes borders on outright disgust.

Soon, the narrow inner roads gave way to much wider, cemented roads, from which, from a distance, we could see a cluster of tall, white-colored structures with bright red roofing—the Angkor Complex Visitors Center.

Tourist buses, scooters, and tuk-tuks vie for space at the Angkor Visitors’ Complex

Lot told us to get our tickets inside and pointed to a spot where he’d meet us in the parking lot amidst the pandemonium of tourists—tourists who poured out from numerous tour buses, cars, tuk-tuks, scooters, bicycles, peddlers, tour guides, etc.

He also explained to us along the way that ticket prices were increased from US$37 for a single-day entry (usually $20) and the special ” buy 2 days & get the 3rd day free” to $62 (usually $40) to take advantage of the influx of Chinese tourists visiting Cambodia for their holidays since it’s their Lunar New Year.

The US dollar is the unofficial and widely accepted currency in the country, although locals will still gladly take Cambodian riels. Most shops will give change in riel or dollars, depending on what’s available.

Now armed with our 3-day passes, we drove for another mile or so until we reached a checkpoint manned by two uniformed personnel. They verified our faces with the pictures on the passes and punched the date we entered, which was located on the back of our tickets.

After we made a short right turn towards our first stop in our grand circle tour, we all realized how massive the Angkor complex was. This is going to be a very long day.

Our first stop is Prasat Kravan (modern name: “Cardamom Sanctuary”). Features very fine interior brick bas-reliefs.

Very detailed carvings everywhere you look!

The temples in the almost 16-mile-long ‘grand circle tour’ not only mesmerized, tantalized, and dazzled our eyes but also made our feet very sore. Unfortunately, I lost my custom-made foot orthosis on the flight to Manila (we traveled to Siem Reap via Hanoi from Manila), and the off-the-shelf foot support that I used did not help much either.

During our three-day sorties inside the Angkor complex, there were several occasions when I preferred to stay in the tuk-tuk with Lot because of the constant pain in my left ankle while my wife and her sister, Rosana, excitedly clambered up the steps of the taller stone towers.

Past noon, we slept in a row of hammocks beside a roadside eatery near Neak Pean, an artificial island with a Buddhist temple as its centerpiece. Most eateries inside the complex—as well as the tuk-tuks—have hammocks that provide a quick way to take a nap.

Tired from all the walking, tourists take a nap in hammocks provided by a roadside restaurant near Neak Pean

We were so tired after we emerged from the west gate of the next temple, Preah Khan, that we had the comforts of the hotel bed in the back of our heads as soon as we boarded Lot’s tuk-tuk again.

Nature vs. Culture: Old trees interlaced among the ruins in Preah Khan

The Bayon was so big that we all decided to take photos aboard the tuk-tuk, revisit the place the following day, and head back to the hotel instead.  Not after we passed by a memorial for people who died in the ‘killing fields’ during the Pol Pot regime.

Before we headed to our room, Lot informed us that he would take us to a massage parlor – they’re all over the city – to soothe our tired legs and bodies, as well as a night tour of downtown Siam Reap.  We had to do this impromptu trip in a jiffy as we still had the “sunrise viewing” of Angkor Wat that required us to be up by 4:30 AM the next day.

If there’s a compelling reason to return to Siam Reap, it would be those massage parlors.  Not only were the massages ridiculously cheap -as low as $1.50 for an hour-long foot massage- but they also served as the perfect way to end your very, very tiring day inside the ancient complex.

You would do your conscience a big favor when you tip well those masseuses and masseurs, as we all agreed that those low rates straddle the thin line between slave labor and gainful employment.

Mid-morning at the east gallery side of Angkor Wat

Angkor Wat’s east façade as captured in this GoPro clip

Very early the following morning, after we picked up our breakfasts in paper bags from the receptionist, Lot motored us to a different route for our dawn viewing of the magnificent Angkor Wat — the main reason for our Cambodian trip.

We eventually spent almost half a day inside the splendid Angkor Wat, whose walls, lintels, nooks, and crevices were adorned by some of the most fascinating carvings and inscriptions the human race had ever seen.  We also managed to venture as far as the outer eastern portion of the complex.

For the Khmers, life simply goes on, content with the knowledge that the temples will remain with them for as long as they live.  For us visitors, we can only enjoy every moment of this special opportunity to marvel at one of mankind’s greatest creations.

Later, he showed us another part of downtown that’s popular among expats and took us to lunch at a fast-food joint that featured an eclectic mix of just about everything on its menu.

This fast-food restaurant’s olive-oil fried chicken recipes were delicious.

So similar to a plate of ‘tap-si-log’ (and variants) in the Philippines. But this one had a “Korean twist” — fried rice with kimchi.

Afterward, Lot recommended that we visit the fishing village of Kompong Phluk. The one-way, back-breaking trip on mostly unsealed roads took the better part of 1.5 hours.

It was almost like a scene from a “Mad Max” movie as our boat meandered along the murky Tonlé Sap river, whose stench competed with our curiosity for any marine or human activities on this surreal backdrop.

On a muggy day, the sight of these houses on stilts is surreal — like a ‘Mad Max’ movie

Fishermen ply their trade along the riverbank of Tonlé Sap

The Tonlé Sap River ends on a lake with the same name and connects it with the 7th longest river in Asia — the Mekong.  Just like the river, this huge lake had suffered great sedimentation due to the exploitation of its resources.  A patina of brown seemingly tints the water as the sun’s reflection bounces from the bottom toward the surface.

Dusk arrives in Tonlé Sap Lake

A Buddhist temple sits atop the banks of the Tonlé Sap

On the way back to our hotel, Lot would point to us the dusty road that leads to his parent’s house where he and his young wife stay.  He pays for the family’s food and utility expenses.  A few more miles on the same highway, he would point to a grocery store owned by a relative of his wife where she helps out.

On our last day in Siem Reap, Lot took us again to the old market early in the morning, where we bought a suitcase for all our extra stuff since we arrived in Hanoi exactly a week ago. He also helped us get discounts for all our souvenirs in the tourists’ market near the very popular night attraction downtown—Pub Street.

Parking a tuk-tuk can be difficult in the old market

After we packed all our bags and turned them over to the front desk for custody, we checked out of our hotel and allowed Lot to decide for us how to spend the remaining 8 or so hours we had to spare before our late evening flight to Puerto Princesa in the Philippines.

Without wasting any time, he drove us to the temples in Ta Phrom, a much smaller complex east of the Bayon. Because of the humidity, I decided to stay aboard his tuk-tuk while I perused my newly purchased guidebook, “Ancient Angkor,” by Michael Freeman and Claude Jacques.

The Ta Prohm’s entrance gate. It is a temple monastery with mostly silk-cotton trees interlaced among the ruins.

Touring the Bayon alone would take you the entire day…or, a few weeks!

While we waited for the sisters, we had our late lunch at a spot where locals and tuk-tuk drivers eat—there was a pair of tourists on backpacks—and had fried chicken wings, fish, and sautéed mustard greens, along with a heap of steamed rice.

After we had picked up the sisters, we passed by the Bayon again with the hopes of just relaxing in one of its many open spaces near the water since the noonday heat had jacked up the humidity scale much higher.

Once outside the Angkor complex, he suggested that we buy some snacks and drinks and proceed to a “picnic spot where he often went when he and his wife were still sweethearts.”

The place turned out to be West Baray, a man-made lake or reservoir constructed in the 11th century. It was a crucial component of the Angkor complex during the heydays of the Khmer empire.

Some construction is going on on the artificial island—the West Mebon, where a magnificent bronze Vishnu still stands—located in the middle of this huge reservoir, which covers an area of about 1,760 hectares (4,349 acres).

It’s very popular with locals who go there to picnic, take naps, or a quick dip in its murky, brown water.  There are no gates either, and you pay a fee upfront to enter.  A lot simply spoke to an elderly woman who proceeded to find a spot for the 4 of us amongst the numerous huts that were on stilts.

Taking it slow and easy in West Baray after all those walks inside the Angkor complex

Ruby enjoying fresh coconut juice at the reservoir (West Baray) in Siem Reap

Each hut seemed to have a few hammocks randomly strung on it, but we found it more refreshing to lie on the mats strewn on the bamboo floor.

After we had some snacks in this rustic setting, I pondered long and hard on the calm waters of the West Baray. My thoughts drifted to the days when I was a young kid growing up in a sleepy town called Baclaran.

Manila Bay was my West Baray, and the nearby Redemptorist (Our Lady of Perpetual Help) Church, although not afloat in a body of water, could have been the West Mebon.

The noonday heat had reached its peak, and a slight breeze from the north lulled the three of us into a slumber while Lam Lot borrowed a piece of cloth from the same elderly woman as he prepared to take a swim.

In my short dream, various nostalgic moments rumbled through my head, but they were not vivid enough for me to recollect when I woke up smiling afterward—except for one: that I was walking along the grass-lined walkways inside the Angkor complex, where the Khmer people were all smiling at me on a quiet day sometimes in those ancient days.

How Long Until Halong Bay?

From Hanoi Old Quarter, where we stayed at a cramped but comfortable hotel –Hanoi Guest House– along Mã Mây Road,  a van took us eastward for a three (3) hour drive along Vietnam’s countryside.

The ride ended at a nondescript, squat, white-washed terminal building (Tuan Chau International Marina), whose design seemed a bit out of place.  Our guide instructed us to wait while he purchased our entrance tickets.

My initial impression of the place was, “here we go again, just another tourist-packed place hyped up by all those travel magazines.

All ‘junk boat’ tours to Halong Bay start at this architecturally-inapt building.

Ruby and Rosan wait for their boat ride.

A brightly-decorated boat — always ready for the Halong Bay cruise

It was not until we went past the visitors’ building and saw the open waters as we followed the crowd of tourists queuing for their boat rides that my biased, unimpressive opinion about the whole trip slowly gave way to both astonishment and awe.

For US$72 or less (depends on what tour company you booked with) that included stops for lunch (not free) & some shopping along the way, as well as the included simple lunch during the boat ride in the bay, it was an okay deal as you’re visiting a UNESCO World Heritage spot.

Scorpion and snake-infused ‘medicinal’ wine, anyone???

A ‘cooking show’ on the boat just before serving lunch

Whether you’re part of a big group or hire a unique boat all for yourself, Halong Bay is sure to offer that special connection with nature and add credence that traveling is the best form of education.  One’s romantic notion of a place, as seen in those glossy magazines and books, will now depend on your perception while you’re there.  You can now paint your picture.

Among nature’s wonders

Our Halong tour had two (2) options:  explore some islands by a smaller boat (maximum of 4-5 persons) helmed by an experienced boatman or paddle a kayak (for two) on your own.  It also included a longish stop at an island where you’ll hike up a steep bluff to explore the caves — this sweetened the deal.

Up this steep bluff lies one of the entrances to the caves

Time and water created these mammoth formations inside the caves

Depending on your budget, it would be a good idea to spend a night or two and explore the other bay areas where you can walk along its shores and swim while having a nice view of everything.

We did not see activities like swimming or other water sports in the nearby areas where most of the tourist buses parked.

You can ride a smaller boat or paddle a kayak to explore the numerous islets.

These islets dot the Gulf of Tonkin.

On that return trip to your hotel, you’ll have that smile that you have finally visited that “famous, picturesque place in Vietnam.”

How Casinos Make A Fool Out of You

I have to admit that it took a very long time before I realized that those seemingly entertaining casino sorties that we have had in the past years almost made me among the stupidest people in the world.

It took me a lot of time to finally realize that casinos are simply mass financial slaughterhouses designed to make fools out of people and to take away their hard-earned money by utilizing all schemes – devious or not – possible.

In these days and ages of social media, some people even take their foolishness to new heights by posting their casino addictions primarily via “vlogs” (video blogs) on YouTube, Vimeo, and other websites.  Most of these poor, misguided souls get their highs from playing the slots machines and by the number of visitors or ‘hits’ on their vlogs — and they think they are popular when their vlogs get viral.

Casino owners and operators are simply laughing: these gambling addicts provide free advertising for the casinos, and vlogs promote gambling to a much wider audience. This is just another foolish denial of the gambling addict and a means to legitimize one’s vice.

It’s only a matter of time before casinos get all they have.   The others who claimed fun, food, strategy, discipline, and additional self-deceptions have been sucked in, chewed up, and spat out.  

Roulette Roulette Table Chips Money
Roulette Roulette Table Chips Money

In addition to their massive mailing & advertising campaigns, casinos employ people called “VIP Hosts” to cater to gamblers with lots of money to lose.  These scumbags will seemingly give big-time gamblers attention and care while milking away all their money.

The whole premise of a host is to extract as much money from players as possible. Casinos award hosts bonuses based on how much the gambler loses.  This is pure and simple evil.

Entertaining or not, there is always a sinister feeling that I get each time I enter a casino – – or any gambling establishment.  Entering one, you get sucked into a place that distorts your concept of time and money.

Time and money: that’s what the casinos take away from ordinary folks out to have a good time or hard-core gamblers.

More than money, it’s that valuable time you lose for the rest of your lives while you’re inside casinos that make you much more foolish than you think otherwise.  The time I wasted is no different than what a prisoner loses while locked up in jail.

All for what?   Wasting countless hours staring and pressing that ‘BET’ button in slot machines (yes, casinos try their best to make them more animated via more giant screens and louder speakers) simply to watch a virtual reel spin on a colored screen?

These man-made contraptions have what the casino industry euphemistically termed a random number generator.’ 

The truth is these machines are designed and programmed to bring guaranteed financial ruin to any casino habitué who had that fantastical notion that they can make these gambling establishments their ATMs.

The key word is here is: “programmed”.  So, how can you beat a machine – in the long run – that was designed and made to pay out lower than the amount of money you put in?

Now that I have just mentioned ATMs, some casinos offer “NO ATM FEES” inside their places.  Mind you, this is not a service to help people out but just another one of their many devious schemes to facilitate the transfer of people’s hard-earned savings and checking accounts to the casinos’ already-fat accounts.

Watching the green baize while your bankroll dissipates because of the huge casino advantage is no fun. 

And all along,  their second-hand-smoke-smelling employees quietly (or, sometimes, brazenly) celebrate that they had legitimately defrauded people of their nest eggs yet expect tips from those they had just robbed.

It’s OK to lose your time and money for a worthwhile cause but lose both inside a casino?  Casinos provide all the tools to make a person stupid.  Just think about it.

There are better and much more exciting things to do in one’s lifetime than spending the bulk of your time inside a casino.

It took me a lot of time before I finally realized that I was punishing rather than entertaining myself when I went to a casino.

Casinos also fool you about the “real-world” concept of money.  You give them real money, but they give chips or a piece of paper in return.  These simple diversions are mere ploys that make it easier for them to take all your real money.

Casinos also fool you by giving the illusion that whatever you lose, you can have it all back with a single ‘lucky break’ — a break that will never come.

How can a good thing come out of a place borne out of a devious scheme?

For people who still have difficulties seeing through the lies and deceptions of casinos, it’s just a matter of admitting you have an addiction.  And the realization that casinos do their best to get you deeper into that addiction.

No matter how hard casinos try to trick people -through their massive advertising campaign- into believing that their places are just fun, you can have a good time.  This may be okay if you possess that super willpower (in reality, this feat is almost impossible as we’re all just human) and simply go to a casino to eat, drink and be merry and not have anything to do with their slot machines and table games…then go straight home.

But that’s the initial bait casinos have laid out for people on their path to financial ruin.   While inside a casino, the lure of these money-draining slot machines and the hard sell of their dealers to play those table games whose odds of winning are stacked heavily against players are simply too hard to resist.

Some may have wised up and gotten scared after realizing they were in a life-stealing vortex. Others simply fell into the same trap and lost all their money.  But, newbie gamblers with fresh faces filled with excitement, hope, and gambling naïveté fill the spaces left by those fun-seekers who have deceived themselves at the hands of the super-slick gaming establishment.

So, why fall into these traps laid out by casinos when you can have a better time with your family and friends in honest-to-goodness places that serve better food and entertainment?

Casinos, therefore, are just a trap borne out of a devious scheme — for your financial ruin and for you to become a prisoner by way of the precious time you lose when you’re inside one.

Most people will recognize their lack of power to solve specific problems if they are honest. When it comes to gambling, I had noted – including myself – that many problem gamblers could abstain for long stretches but were caught off guard and, under the right set of circumstances, started gambling without thought of the consequences.

Through willpower alone, the defenses they relied upon gave way before some trivial reason for placing a bet.  Willpower and self-knowledge will not help in those mental blank spots, but adherence to spiritual principles solves our problems.

I believe that to believe in a power greater than ourselves and to acknowledge that gambling is evil are necessary for one to sustain a desire to refrain from gambling.

So, don’t let casinos make a fool out of you.  Avoid them by all means, at all costs, and recognize them as places of evil.

Remember when you see that big “CASINO” sign, whenever and wherever you are:  You will lose your CAsh and visit a SInister place… so, just say NO.

You’re not a fool, are you?

Living Life Through King Solomon’s Eyes

God of Heavenly Punishment (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“There was once a very, very rich man who found that riches did not satisfy.  His name was Solomon.  He wrote a book about it called Ecclesiastes.  This rich king had tasted just about everything life could offer.  Wealth?  No one could exceed him in luxury.  Wisdom?  The whole world knew how wise he was.  Fame?  He was king, the most famous man of his time.  Systematically he sampled all of life’s pleasures and powers, yet all ultimately disappointed him.  All prove meaningless.

“What is the point of life?” he asked.  You worked hard, and someone else gets all the credit.  You struggle to be good, and evil people take advantage of you.  You accumulate money, and it just goes to spoiled children.  You seek pleasure, and it turns sour on you.  And everyone–rich or poor, good or evil, meets the same end.  We all die.  There is only one word to describe this life: meaningless.”

But, is it?  Is life really meaningless?  Is that all there is in life –the summary of the number of years we had live in this planet?  Does man’s existence on Earth simply goes and on until this planet or the entire universe gets obliterated by a decaying sun?

Surely, when humans try to ponder the unknown, tons of questions need to be answered. Is there such thing as an afterlife?  Is there a God?

In our vain attempts to give even the most preposterous explanations to the great unknown, they had also given rise to a multitude of religions, sects, cults, tribes, fan clubs or what have you.

On the other hand, mankind has been trying to use every scientific means to disprove any religious theories about the creation of just about everything the mind can think about.  That the universe – which our planet is but a tiny speck within – is but the result of a mega blast and that humans simply came about through a series of evolutions.

And that everything that the human mind could comprehend simply happens randomly.  Really?  Everything is just random?

Each individuals’ appearance on this planet may have occurred randomly at birth but have you ever wondered why life spans differ?  There are souls that don’t even see the light of day, others die young while some of our elders even express their desires to die so much earlier in their struggle to cope with the hardships and difficulties that accompany old age.

In the worldly context of King Solomon‘s search for life’s meaning, he also voiced the unfairness of life:

“People don’t get what they deserve.  Good men suffer while wicked men prospers.  Everything seems determined only by time and chance.”

And just how many times we had asked ourselves that we deserved more in this life?  Why does success, in whatever means we try to measure it, seem very elusive?  Why do we see other people seem to have all the comforts of life while others still wallow in poverty?

On the other hand, why do some people so suddenly give up a life of unbridled extravagance to be of service to the poorest of the poor — and find their true happiness in the process?

Our futile attempts to quantify life and find meaning in it is hampered, of course, by our very own making: the concept of time.

Time is the great equalizer and it measures, regulates and rule each and everyone’s lives.  There are no exceptions and short cuts.  We will all die.

Science and technology may have found some solutions in making our daily chores so much easier and, on a few cases, extend our lives a few years longer. But, there will never be an eternity for us in this planet as long as there is the concept of time.

We could all be likened to a mouse trying to catch its tail.

So, what then is the meaning of life?

It is the acknowledgment of a God who willed each and everyone of us to exist in this planet.

Oh, yeah? For what?

Faith and what happens to a person’s soul is something the human brain will never ever understand.

But, what is the ‘soul‘?  Simply, if you have a conscience, you have a soul.

Truly, life is, indeed, full of meaning…only if we live it through the eyes of King Solomon.

 

 

The Spirit of Summer in Nueva Ecija: Life in the Philippine Countryside Series

Day 1 – Jan. 31, 2016 – (Sunday): Nueva Ecija here we come

Rey, who would be driving, arrived at my aunt’s house at about 3:45 AM that balmy Sunday morning.  January usually is the height of the dry season in the archipelago.  Still, the calm westerly winds also gave that early part of the day a relaxed and almost comforting atmosphere.

I hardly slept that night as I still suffered from the late effects of jet lag and the non-stop noise from the tricycles and scooters.  My aunt’s house straddled the main road in that part of Imus that had become a veritable commercial area — a far cry from the rural appeal the place had for me where I finished my high school years in the mid-70s.

We wasted no time and left for Mandaluyong – where we picked up Rona, her mother, Nita (my mother-in-law), and Ronald’s family (his wife Winnie and twin sons Dominic and Benedict) – as we were running late.  But not after stopping by a drug store where Rey bought some medicine for his stomach ulcer and at a gas station where we inflated the tires to their correct pressure.  After all, the trip to Nueva Ecija would be about 5-6 hours, despite our very early start.

Ronald married a coworker while he was a teacher in a private school near San Juan, Metro Manila.  Winnies parents hail from Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija, where both had been tilling a sizeable piece of farmland entrusted to them.

They don’t own the title to the land but only get a portion of the rice harvest.  Nueva Ecija owns the title of being the ‘rice granary of the Philippines’.

Nueva Ecija map
English: Map of Nueva Ecija showing the location of Santo Domingo (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It was almost 6 AM when we left Manila and its outskirt cities as we entered the first three expressways to our destination.

We used a connecting road along Mindanao Avenue in Quezon City to enter NLEX (North Luzon Expressway).  This two-lane expressway (the equivalent of a secondary highway in advanced countries) would go all the way to Santa Ines in Pampanga until we utilized another connector road somewhere in Tarlac to another expressway called SCTEX (Subic-Clark-Tarlac Expressway).  We traversed only a short portion of this newly built two-lane highway until it dead-ends in the city of Tarlac as we veered east to the final expressway, TPLEX (Tarlac-Pangasinan-La Union Expressway).

The road narrowed after we utilized the Aliaga exit along TPLEX and found ourselves along the old MacArthur Highway that was once the main artery if you’re going north of these islands.

You’re already in Nueva Ecija when you see ‘palay‘ (unmilled rice) on the roadside and passenger tricycles plying the main roads.

We finally arrived in the town of Santo Domingo five (5) hours after we left Mandaluyong.  The trip covered about 250 kilometers (155 miles), yet it felt like one of the longest days I was on the road because of the numerous turnouts we took after we got out of the expressways.

Winnie’s parent (Willie and Gloria) house is a low-slung, single-story concrete structure located about a few hundred meters from the feeder road, surrounded by rice fields.

I was immediately attracted to a set of varnished bamboo chairs two of which are longer than the others – on the small veranda of the house that overlooked the rice fields.  What perfect spots to take a quick nap!

After the formal introductions,  I used my bag as a pillow and stretched my tired body on one of the long chairs that faced the rice fields.  At the same time, Ronald and his wife went to the nearest public market using the family-owned tricycle to buy all the ingredients for lunch.

Lunch was almost ready when I woke up an hour later.  Winnie had been busy grilling the large yet fresh ‘pusit‘ (squid), several pieces of fish locally called ‘dalag‘ (mudfish), and ‘pork liempo‘ (grilled pork spare ribs marinated in ‘calamansi‘ (miniature lime) and soy sauce).

Using freshly harvested vegetables from a nearby plot, Winnie’s mother prepared an Ilocano version of ‘pinakbet.‘   She also made a side dish of green mango salad.  On a long table set up outside, heaps of newly-cooked rice lie in wait.

Grilled 'pusit' (squid) and 'pork liempo' (pork belly)!!!
Get them while they’re hot!!!

The kids can't wait to lay their hands on the food!
Kids can’t wait for lunch to start.

After lunch, I couldn’t resist taking a few pictures of the rustic scenery and then headed back to my makeshift bed and took another nap.  The magnificent view of the verdant rice fields seems to have cast a hypnotic spell upon me that, in no time, I was in dreamland once again.

Lunchtime in Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija
Lunchtime

Shimmering grains of 'palay'
‘Palay’ grains dance with the wind.

At about 3 PM, Rey reminded me that we should leave for Talavera before dark as we might not find it easy to look for my relatives’ place.

I had planned to visit my uncle, “Tata Amado”  (the only living brother of my late father) and cousins in the nearby town of Talavera, and it was one of the reasons I had agreed to join the trip.

We reached Calipahan Bridge – the only landmark I could still remember getting there- in about 40 minutes using the interior roads.

We had to ask for directions twice before we found my cousin Fidela’s house.  She was our dear  ‘Ate Dely‘ when she was still a teenager and stayed with us in Baclaran.  She’s the second to the eldest in the big family of my uncle — 8 daughters (Lucena†, Fidela, Ila, Vita, Teresa (Tate), Josefina (Fina), Divina, and Ata) and an only son, Ambrosio or “Ambo.”

Ambo is about my age and was my constant companion when I visited them.  It had been more than 30 years since my last visit to Talavera.  The last time was during the summer break before I entered my first year in college; I had brought along my bike on that trip, and I remember that I had ridden my bike as far as the province’s boundary with Nueva Viscaya.

While Ate Dely and I got reacquainted, Rey wandered around the surrounding areas.

Winnie and Ronald took this an opportune time to make a quick trip to nearby Cabanatuan City aboard a tricycle.  I moved on to visit the rest of my cousins whose houses were just next to each other — just a few meters away from Fidela’s.

Although most of the siblings built their houses on the ancestral lot, a portion of their old house where they grew up remained.

Upon seeing my Tata Amado in his wheelchair on the veranda of their old house, my mind raced back to when I was in my late teens, and everywhere I looked, it was fresh and expansive.  I still remember the infinite rice fields, the carabaos in the shed, the giant pomelo, and other fruit trees.  And, yes, the quiet, dusty road that led inwards to the town — the same dusty road where Ambo and I rode our bikes on our way to Pantabagan Dam.

The roads are now busy, and the incessant sound of the tricycles seems to drown whatever peace has remained.  Everything seems to have been taken over by a melange of concrete, steel, sheet metal, and other appurtenances that humans euphemistically term progress.

And I felt a deep sadness in my heart and that same question beckoned — “Why do we have to grow old?”

I took pictures, asked questions, and met some of my nephews and nieces whose names and faces I won’t probably remember the next time.  They would have all grown up and changed and will have their own families.

We headed back to Santo Domingo before sunset and stopped briefly at a  7-11 for three (3) bottles of San Miguel GrandeWe made another stop at a roadside “ihaw-ihaw” (barbeque) stall, where we got some grilled “pork liempo” and “lechon manok.”

Our companions were already on their sleeping attires when we arrived.  We had our beers and BBQs for dinner –along with a plateful of rice and a vegetable dish.

Winnie’s father and brother later joined at the table as we spent the rest of the evening listening to stories that primarily focused on how their family had settled on the place.

Day 2 – Feb. 01, 2016 – (Monday): The Road Back to Manila

A mosquito net plus an electric fan enabled me to get some deep sleep, so I grabbed my camera as I took nature’s call outside to take a few pictures of the surrounding areas at daybreak.  It was about 6 AM.

The narrow dirt road that leads to a cemented one that will take us to the main highway was still empty, and sunrise painted the horizon with varying shades of gray and yellow.

The mound of hay at sunrise
Hues of blacks and yellows in the early hours of sunrise

All quiet for now along the dusty road in Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija
Dawn in Sto. Domingo, Nueva Ecija

I staggered back inside the house to make myself a cup of coffee   Everyone roused up early except one of the twins, still deep in slumber on the sofa bed.

Someone had prepared the kitchen table for a quick breakfast — a Thermos bottle, packets of instant coffee and chocolate, and a blue plastic bag full of bite-sized hot “pan de sal” were already neatly laid out.

I grabbed a few pieces of the tiny buns as Ronald emerged from the door near a hand-driven water pump, held up two cans, and asked if I wanted corned beef hash or sardines for him to sauté.

Both,” I replied and immediately headed to the veranda to enjoy the morning view of the rice fields with my impromptu breakfast.

Thumb-sized 'pan de sal' for breakfast
You could quickly eat 5 to 10 pieces of these very small ‘pan de sal’ during breakfast!!!

Rey chats with Winnie's mother before we departed for Manila
Rey and Gloria enjoy the early morning breeze outside the ‘veranda.’

After everybody had their breakfast, we took turns fetching water from the manual water pump using plastic pails for our showers.  I used the smaller outdoor toilet near some bamboo trees, and tidbits of memories streamed to my brain about how I used to go through all these morning rituals during my extended stays with my cousins in Talavera.

It was about 9 AM when we all got ready for the trip back to Manila, But not after passing by the small parcel of land centrally located among all the rice fields in the surrounding areas that Ronald had called “gubat” (forest).

We had to walk along very narrow footpaths to reach it, so we parked the van along the road where a treehouse was nearby.  Her wheeled walker prevented my mother-in-law from coming along.  Rona decided to stay with her in the truck.  She would join us in the ‘gubat’ a few minutes later.

The ‘gubat‘ serves as a perfect resting area and refuge for farmers after tilling the land for hours during the hot, dry months and during the typhoon season when sporadic rains and howling winds batter the rice fields.

‘Manong’ Willie had erected a small hut with elevated flooring made of bamboo and nipa.  Bamboo and palm – came from the trees that grew abundantly on the fringes of the same tract of land.  The underside of the hut served as a temporary coop for native chickens and their young broods until he decided where to put up a permanent and bigger one on the land.

Except for electricity and a permanent water source, the ‘gubat‘ could be an excellent place to be in case of a calamity since it’s not only elevated, but also self-sufficient   Fruit trees were abundant, and Manong Willie planted vegetables almost everywhere.  There were also several pigs as well as ducks that roamed freely in the open spaces.

Winnie plods along the narrow 'pilapil' (foot path) towards the 'gubat' amidst the verdant rice fields in Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija
Winnie is on her way to the ‘gubat.’

From the outside looking in - bamboo trees grow abundantly in the 'gubat'
Bamboo trees are abundant inside this tiny forest amidst the rice fields in Santo Domingo, Nueva Ecija.

Out of Nueva Ecija on our journey back to Manila
Entering a new province in Luzon. Out of Nueva Ecija and into Tarlac

Ancestral home of Filipino martyr, Benigno "Ninoy' Aquino, Jr. in Concepcion, Tarlac
The late Filipino senator-turned-martyr and national hero grew up in this house

We lingered for over an hour, and my mind tried vainly to connect the present with my long-gone youth.  Time indeed has ways to temper even the most outrageous dreams of humankind.

And so, during this brief summer interlude in Nueva Ecija, I realized that although my idealism may have long been gone, my appreciation for life and all its blessings will always remain.