Hitting The Gym

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Gym? Nice.

Begin with lightweights to condition the muscles first. If you go heavy during the first gym visit, you will have muscle cramps and can’t go back to the gym for a week or so. You will find smaller and leaner people at the gym that lift heavyweights. Don’t compare yourself to them, don’t follow, and don’t be ashamed to go light!   

Target the large muscle groups: 1. Chest – bench press, 2. Back muscles – shoulder press (grandfather press), 3. Legs – squats. If you do these, smaller muscles like biceps, triceps, laterals and calves and are also worked out. Don’t focus on these minor muscles now or you will look like Popeye! Include sit-ups, spinning and jogging in your routine.

Continue with regular diet: eat rice (or carbo equivalent) before going to the gym, and hydrate (water, juice, etc) during workout sessions.

Change routines by finding alternatives to bench press, grandfather press and squats. Always include sit-ups, spinning or jogging to maintain muscle proportions. There. That’s Workout 101. Enjoy!

Hooray For Today!

I was already wide awake. But I couldn’t go back to sleep anymore. It was 2:00am of January 20^th. My interview was to be at 6:30am. I took a long shower and ironed my clothes thoroughly until they were flat and stiff as a plyboard, you can’t see a crease anywhere. I wasn’t being fastidious, just had too much time to prepare. Then I went to a 24/7 Mac Donald’s for an early breakfast. It was uncharacteristically un-frenzied and un-peopled. I opened the door and heard it for the first time - the new Mac Donald’s jingle Hooray For Today, and it kind of set the mood for the whole day! It played over and over in my mind until I came face to face with the consul. “So why do you want to go to the U.S.A.? I heard him say. I guess I looked funny with the song in my head. I can tell by the way he looked at me when he fired those curt, short questions. My equally short, quick replies seemed to be punctuated by Hooray for today. Hooray for today! “Your visa is approved. Just wait for the courier to hand over to you your passport, ok?, the consul said. “Oh ok.” I blurted out.

I was humming as I walked down the aisle. I felt very light. Then I went straight to the first Mac Donald’s I can find. A pretty usherette greeted me by the door. “Good morning sir.” she said with a smile. “Good morning indeed!” I said. This time the queues were long and the patrons were animated. And the song – it’s still playing. Full lyrics is below:

“Hooray for Mornings

And things that make them good

Hooray for beaming smiles that make my day

Hooray for stops and gos

Hooray for colors and quick hellos

Hooray for surprises that walk my way

Hooray for friends I’ll make

Oh hey…hey!

Hooray for treats that make me smile

Like magic stripes that fill the sky

Hooray for days that make me say

Oh, HOORAY FOR TODAY!”

Hooray for that day indeed! And what a fitting song for such a triumphant day….

Times Like These

Somebody prayed 800 kilometers away but it woke me up at exactly 3am. To some people 3 o’clock is a holy hour whether in the afternoon or early dawn. I called up mom at around 7am. “What did you do at 3am today?” I asked. She said, “I was praying for you my son.” After lunch i watched TV and somebody sang Spandau Ballet’s “True”. When he came to singing the line “…..toe to toe” I looked at my watch; It reads: 2:22. Now this is definitely coincidental, nothing serious about it; but the first one? Just divine…. I’ll get that visa on the 20th January.  

Yuletide

Yuletide is the season of giving and it’s best time to observe the Golden Rule: Do to others what you want others do to you? But if you give gifts this Christmas and don’t get any, just think of the other rule: When you give, don’t expect anything in return!

Being Kind

The queues were long and most of us patiently waited in line, but the others will barge in for sure when the train comes. Two old people came in position by the door. They looked anxious amidst the mob in the morning rush for work. I reckon there is no way they can wrestle their way in without physical harm, so the instant the door opened, I kind of boxed-out, held my position, and let them through first. The flow of people pushing their way in swept us all inside. The doors closed; the train moved; and we grabbed the silver handlebars while turning away from one another. Nearing the next stop, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. “Good job”, he said before getting off at the next station…. I felt warm. And for a while I thought I was a good person.

ICC

Senator Mirriam Defensor Santiago just became a judge of the ICC (the International Criminal Court). It’s a new court apart from United Nation’s ICJ (the International Court of Justice). While ICJ hears cases against countries, ICC tries individuals for crimes against humanity, genocide and war crimes. The Philippine Senate on 23 August 2011 ratified the Rome Statute creating the ICC making the Philippines the 117^th states party to the ICC. I happened to be in the presence of legal luminaries dissecting the ICC charter in a roundtable discussion at the Oakwood Hotel in Makati long before Resolution 546 was passed in the Philippine Senate. Among the discussants were Ambassador Raul Goco, UP Law Professor Harry Roque, and representatives of the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). This happened a few months before the munity led by then Lt. Col. Antonio Trillanes IV. It always gives me a warm feeling thinking I took a small part in that discussion that eventually lead to the ratification of the Rome Statute. Now a fellow Filipino will soon take a big part in breathing life to the ICC! Filipinos be proud and congratulations to ICC Judge Mirriam Defensor Santiago!

The Race

It’s party time! Drinks are flowing and everybody’s in a festive mood. With beer in hand, you thought the food is great as you munch on a sashimi after wolfing down a whole chunk of grilled pork chop, one side of a steamed grouper, two fried chicken legs, a plate of fruit salad and three strawberry shortcakes. Everything is A-ok until you felt something you can’t deny which rules over everything else and no amount of procrastination can hold it down. You want to run but can’t; you are cemented on where you stood. And run where? It’s called by many names, absolutely nowhere else compares to it, nothing can offer such comfort. No. Nothing. Especially when a race is about to begin. And try as you might, you can’t control it. It has it’s own starting gun. You know what it is. They say it’s the ultimate race – “A race out of your butt where everyone wins!”

American Muslims

I watched Anderson. The topic was about Muslims in America, in the aftermath of 911. Are they evil people? And is there a conspiracy to impose their (Shari’a) laws on the rest of country, and the world? These are the silent undertones, unspoken, but felt.

I think it’s a sham, a black propaganda meant to discredit the entire Muslim nation akin to The Protocols of the Elders of Zion intent on annihilating the Jews. These are sinister plots that only fuel the rage of fundamentalist groups. And it must be stopped!

911 was living terror perpetrated by Muslim fundamentalists - who don’t represent the Muslims, as a people and as a religion; in the same manner that Nazis behind the Holocaust, were not representative of the entire German population.

I am not a Muslim, but I live in a town with a small Muslim community in it. They are good people. We have good relations with them, and a lot of them are trading partners of local businessmen. They have work. They have money. They are different sure: because they practice a different religion, they have a different food preference, and they don’t drink anything with alcohol in it. But just like the rest of us, they sweat when they run, they eat when hungry, and laugh at something funny.

We cannot generalize people. It’s just not right. Because regardless of creed and religion, there will always be good and bad amongst us. In given situations, even good people do bad things, and the bad, do good deeds. Sometimes we are quick to judge and condemn resulting in shattered lives and innocent deaths. Stop the hate. Hate, like fear, are attributes of the uninformed.

Know the Muslims more. Walk in their shoes. Try to understand their way of life. And you will soon realize, that the differences you see are only skin deep. What you don’t see are the things that matter such as shared morality and values. Shed your biases. Open up. And learn more from that which you know little about. And hopefully, post 911 fears will slowly go away. Peace brothers!

Debt Crisis

European countries using the Euro  

Rogier complained about the European Union’s effect on the Netherlands. He said their earnings and benefits are slashed by subsidizing poorer member countries such as Spain, and for what? Daniel who’s Spanish was extremely agitated by the comment but just laughed about the “whining Dutch”. The English played coy about it, having chosen to keep the English Pound, they are not directly affected by EU’s woes. I listened in fascination while preparing my gear for our reef check in Moalboal, a town south of Cebu City. It was 2007. But Rogier’s point is made relevant with what’s happening in Europe today, particularly the Euro and the future of the European Union itself.

Italy and GREECE, cradles of European culture now fuels a financial downward spin that can send the European Union to oblivion. While Greece’s fiscal woes were worrying, Italy’s are monumental, threatening to take down stock markets around the world. Italy is eighth-largest economy in the world, fourth largest in Europe. Its GDP was €1.97 trillion in 2010 (Greece has it at €305 billion). Italy’s debts now tops €2 trillion, or 120 percent of its GDP.

In December 2009, Papandreou announced that the size of Greece’s deficit has ballooned so huge he called his country’s economy “a sinking ship.’’ Investors were stunned. In early 2010, fears over a potential default grew into a full-fledged financial panic. In May 2010, Greece received a bailout package of €110 billion from the International Monetary Fund (IMF). The price was a series of austerity measures meant to cut its bloated deficit and restore investor confidence. These austerity measures, which include freezing public-sector salaries, raising taxes and slashing pensions angered the Greeks who came spilling out on the streets in mass protests.

The roots of the crisis go back to the strong Euro and rock-bottom interest rates that prevailed for much of the past decade. Greece took advantage of this easy money to drive up borrowing by the country’s consumers and its government. Public spending soared and public sector wages practically doubled. However, while money has flowed out of the government’s coffers, its income has been hit by widespread tax evasion. When the global financial downturn hit, Greece was ill-prepared to cope.

Since the crisis began, €60 billion in deposits have been withdrawn from Greek banks, which is about a quarter of the country’s output. On Oct. 20, Parliament approved a new raft of austerity measures, including additional wage and pension cuts, public sector layoffs and changes to collective bargaining rules, as violent demonstrations raged outside. Meanwhile, the Greek economy continued to fall deeper into recession.

The aim of the original Greece bailout was to contain the crisis. It did not happen because although Greece’s troubles are the most extreme, they highlight problems in the Eurozone that also apply to other economies. Now the bust has come, it is very hard for them to repay the debts. And the high wage levels leave their economies uncompetitive. Because they are inside the Eurozone, these governments cannot rely on their central bank to lend them the money, nor can they devalue their currencies to regain a competitive edge. Meanwhile they are having to push through very painful spending cuts and tax rises to get their borrowing under control. But this is just pushing their economies into recession, which leads to higher unemployment, and therefore less income tax revenue, compounding their financial problems. Now the crisis has spread to Italy, whose economy is 6x bigger than Greece. It owes its creditors more than Greece, Ireland, Portugal, and Spain combined owe. It would take nearly 1 Trillion Euros to rescue Italy, but the European Financial Stability Facility — the EU’s bailout fund — has as little as €300 billion left in it. A bailout for italy seems mission impossible.

Italy is one of the world’s largest markets for government bonds. Fears that Italy cannot pay what it owes on government debt have driven rates on Italian bonds to over 7 percent, the tipping point at which economists say a country’s debt becomes unsustainable. Higher bond rates should, in theory, make Italy more attractive to investors. But what it really indicates is that the country has lost the faith of the markets. And Italy is just too big to bail out. It’s basically “Greece on steroids.”

Berlusconi’s final act was to put together an austerity plan that would slash the country’s budget deficit. But Italy has let its total debt grow so large that it will have to borrow “a massive 20 percent of GDP” — in private capital markets just to pay off bonds that mature in 2012. No one wants to lend to a country when that country would use the loan to pay the interest on previous loans. Italy’s collapse could send borrowing costs spiraling higher across Europe, spreading the crisis to other big economies, such as France. To pay off its debts, Italy might even abandon the euro and pay its creditors with a new domestic currency, at a one-to-one exchange. The currency would then ‘float’ (i.e., sink), and the magnitude of its drop in value would determine how much Italy’s default would cost the banks and other investors that lent it Euros. The losses could cripple Europe’s financial system and spark runs on banks in Italy, then in other debt-burdened countries.

Default: A default occurs when a borrower misses a payment or it can no longer repay its debts in full, such as bankruptcy or a debt restructuring. It has a number of implications: If a borrower defaults, all lenders may demand immediate repayment in full, or they may opt to write off losses. On a larger scale such as in a government’s financial obligations, a default begets loss of confidence, in its banks, and in the market at large. This leads to economic slowdown and if the downturn is not reversed, economic activity stops - No more production of goods and services. People can’t buy anything. Their stomachs are empty. And when you’re hungry, you don’t care for law anymore, so there will be anarchy, then chaos – lootings, robbery, murder….

Greece and Italy as well as the 15 other other countries in the Eurozone use only one currency - the Euro. If either member defaults, the resulting panic can spread to all member states. And since we live in a global economy, a financial turmoil in an area as big as Europe can cause panic to spread far and wide, fast, beyond Eurozone’s borders….

Darth Vader Cloud

The community showed little surprise when we came, but they were welcoming just the same. In a low voice (as if someone was eavesdropping) they said something to us, which sounded more like a plea than a suggestion: To not be noisy up the crater….

It was a clear day and despite the pleasantly cool wind, the sun warmed our skins. As we approached the ridge (actually the crater ring), I broke a sweat. A narrow path snaked down the lake below surrounded by age-old trees. The lake looked like a mirror reflecting the white clouds. We came to a clearing by the edge of the lake to where a fallen branch was half submerged in the water, the rest of it was covered in moss. We found our individual rocks and sat. It was comforting. We started talking and the talking turned to laughing, and the laughing turned to laughing really loud until….the sun disappeared.

We looked up. A sliver of dark cloud clawed its way down towards the forest canopy just above the crater. We became quiet. For a while it hovered as if waiting to strike. Silence descended upon us. We were still. Unmoving like the rocks we sat on. We only stirred when the menacing dark cloud slowly dissipated in thin air. Then we gathered our things and left, gently, with only our eyes talking. It seemed that if we tripped on the tree roots and stumble, the lake will open up and swallow us alive.

We talked about this over and over back at base camp. At night under a starlit sky in the midst of the jungle, we gathered around a bonfire with some local people for a conversation so creepy it was difficult for us to crawl back inside our tents: “There are certain people. We don’t see them but we hear them. Talking, laughing, swimming in the crater-lake. Sometimes in the middle of the night we hear cars and trucks go up the crater. Engines scream as if stuck in mud. They pass by our houses. We hear their feet shuffle. They are there. In the direction of where the dogs look, and howl….”

Rick Perry and Brain Freeze?

“And the third one is um, umm, I forgot. Ops!” Was it publicity? Was it strategy? Whatever it was, the way Perry handle the fumble will favor his candidacy if he can pull off it real quick. He had a modest approval rating before the debate and he needs to add up percentage points to be considered a serious contender in the race. Was it deliberate to draw attention on himself? Because, he just did! His rating dipped steeply, yes, but he’s all over the news now. And good or bad, it’s big time publicity, the kind politicians covet to be in the consciousness of the electorate. The charts can be reversed as dramatically if he concentrates on proving he’s the real deal.

Perry should learn from Pare, former Philippine President Joseph Estrada (known as Erap, Pare in reverse). During one of those debates, the first question was asked, and each candidate was given three minutes to respond. All (but one) fired their witty responses right away as soon as the clock started ticking. Not Pare. He spent two minutes greeting everybody in attendance and waited for the moderator to remind him he had just a minute to finish his remark. As if on cue, the moderator did just that, and Pare pretended to be embarrassed by it as the crowd roared in laughter, then Pare proceeded with his meaty last minute answer. He played the idiot and won the crowd!

Pare courts such moments to his full advantage. In a sea of candidates with impeccable academic credentials, he stood out as the college drop-out, who can’t talk straight English, who womanizes, who drinks, who sired many children. He’s just human and being true to himself, people say. Pare has street smarts and charisma and he played with what he’s good at – acting! After all, Pare was a professional actor. Unbelievable as it was, that’s how he won the presidency. Ok, Perry give Pare a call….

Tremendous!

This is it! The last installment of the storied encounters between Manny Pacquiao and Juan Manuel Marquez. Or is it? Right before the main event, a tribute was made for Joe Frazier who recently passed away. To boxing fans all over the world, he didn’t die, he’s been made immortal a long time ago with Muhammad Ali in their celebrated trilogy that climaxed in the monumental Thrilla in Manila. Ali then unabashedly claimed his triumph over Smokin Joe. He has beaten the monkey twice, he said years after the epic fight. When Joe was asked what’s his reaction to this monkey taunt, Joe said, Yes he won but I did this to him? (mimicking Ali’s involuntary Parkinson’s body shakes). The Pacquiao-Marquez trilogy brought us to the same venue for a dose of our own Thrilla in Manila on Saturday (Sunday morning in the Philippines). But as exciting as the fight was, is the tremendous amount of public opinion in its aftermath.

Favoritism won over actual scores; Pacman’s win was more doubtful than the last. This is a sampling of widespread sentiments now flooding the internet. Boxingtoday.com gave the headline “Marquez Robbed of Win Against Pacquiao,” It quoted Freddie Roach as saying “We’re losing!” after the 7^th round.

The closest anyone has come to beating Pacquiao since the Morales loss was Marquez himself. Their first fight on May 8, 2004 at the MGM Grand, ended in a draw; but Pacquiao was believed to have won that match. Their second meeting on March 15, 2008 at the Mandalay Bay, Pacquiao won via split decision; and it was believed that Marquez won the fight. And how close were the scores? Quinito Henson has this to say: “If you add up the nine judges’ scorecards in the three fights, the sum will show the Filipino ring icon with a slight seven-point advantage. But before the third bout, the total scores of the six judges is 679-678. Manny had only a one-point edge over Marquez!” And take a look at the almost identical professional record just before their third encounter:

53 Wins, 3 Losses, 2 Draws, 38 Knockouts Pacquiao

53 Wins, 6 Losses, 1 Draw, 39 Knockouts Marquez

Marquez, now 38, has posted a 5-1 record since losing to Pacquiao (32). The only stain was his loss to Mayweather. Pacquiao on the other hand, has gone 7-0. The consensus is if there’s a fighter out there with even a ghost of a chance to beat Pacquiao, it has to be Marquez. Marquez was a worthy opponent. While the others bowed out kissing the canvas or otherwise went home with bloodshot eyes, broken nose, split lips, Marquez not only finished the 12 rounds, many of us even thought he won the fight! Or did he? In the eyes of a mere fan and spectator, I couldn’t tell for sure. And if it was Marquez, I would have left it at that because I think only the technical guys and those who view the fight in slow motion can tell with certainty what the real scores are. I reckon there were solid punches Marquez threw that could have knocked Pacquiao down. But Pacquiao didn’t. And I thought what a lucky son-of-b****! (Pardon the pun). One judge scored it even at 114. The Los Angeles Times scored the fight, 115-113, for Marquez. The Associated Press had it 114-114. And FOX Sports had it 118-110 for Marquez. It’s a very tough call. And did Marquez landed a solid punch and one judge blinked and missed it? And did another sneezed and closed his eyes when it happened? These fleeting moments could radically change the scores.

Pacquiao hasn’t lost in his last 14 fights and it feels like a lifetime ago when he was beaten by Erik Morales in 2005. The win streak includes eight knockouts and with this narrow win, Pacquiao took it to 15! Was there really favoritism? Let’s start with this: None of the nine judges who scored in the three bouts had a repeat performance. And as a matter of practice, judges give the benefit of the doubt to the aggressor in a close round. In this third bout Pacquiao was the clear aggressor all the way to 12 rounds. But it is difficult for many to accept Manny won the bout and Mexican fans threatened a riot as they shouted “Pac-man Pac-you” inside the MGM Grand. They booed the decision and threw drink bottles at ringside to show their anger. A lot of them felt Marquez won the fight, and Marquez is one of them. “It is a robbery and of the two robberies I have had against him, this one is the more terrible,” Marquez said, in his locker room.

“Pacquiao may go down in history as one of the following: the greatest southpaw of all time, the greatest Filipino fighter of all time or the most important fighter since the Muhammad Ali era,” wrote Don Stradley in The Ring Magazine (October 2010). In his book “An Unforgiving Sport,” writer Thomas Hauser said, “Pacquiao’s not unbeatable. He and Marquez were separated by only one point after 24 rounds. But Manny has become a complete fighter. His victory over (Oscar) de la Hoya (in 2008) was the sort of performance that one puts in a time capsule to define a fighter.” 

Champ in 8 divisions. Pacquiao went up and down the ladder looking for the worthy opponent. He couldn’t find one. He seems unstoppable. Nobody can beat him. He is somewhere up there in the clouds. But this fight definitely pulled Pacman down back to earth. Marquez is the one worthy opponent he was looking for. But I don’t think there’s going to be a fourth fight. So let’s move on, who’s next?

Camouflaged

We were building a few gas stations in an island and I have to check all of them every so often. The island is so rural it felt like stepping into the past. And it’s small enough to be circled in just three hours by motorcycle through a seaside highway. Though not so many, it has a steadily rising population. There are lesser people in the south part, and a long stretch of beach is un-peopled for most of the day. I usually stop by a bluff overlooking the sea, which has a view of other southern islands. The last time I passed by the area, there were 4 boys on the beach with nets, homemade spears and goggles to catch aquarium fish. Except that, it’s all empty space and blue skies. This has become my favorite spot to rest, and also to skin dive.

There is really nothing special in these waters, except for one type of fish I haven’t seen before. It’s a medium sized, regularly shaped fish, with a noticeably black square on yellow spot, a pink dorsal and anal fins, and a silvery body. I turned around to face it squarely. It became still, then turned dark bands amidst sea grass. I moved closer; it moved away towards sandy bottom before turning very light while the bands disappeared. I watched it for 5 minutes before I saw the others as I drifted with the underwater current.

Like human beings, fish also have different temperaments though too subtle to notice. However this one stood out. While the others prefer to just move away or hide underneath rocks, it moved around in a wide circle. It was extremely agitated by my presence that sudden movements turned it on like a switch. As I mimicked a chase, it turned dark bands as often as a blinking traffic light. It’s like an ill patient on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Sensing this, I swam away to ease the tension the fish must have felt. Then I let myself drift further towards shore. It was time to go….

Riptide

Riptide (actually rip current) is a strong channel of water flowing seaward from near the shore created by the right combination of wind direction and wave action when the water that is pushed onshore is forced sideways by oncoming waves. This water streams along the shoreline until it finds an exit back to sea. The resulting rip current is usually narrow and located in a trench between sandbars, under piers or along jetties. It is strongest at the surface. This strong surface flow tends to dampen incoming waves, leading to the illusion of a particularly calm part of the sea, which lures some swimmers into the area. Rip currents are stronger when the surf is rough and during a low tide. Drownings are often caused by exhaustion and panic fighting it, but not because the rip pulls them under.

A swimmer caught in a rip should not attempt to swim directly against it. As in a treadmill, you need to step off it by swimming parallel to shore. Locations to aim for are places where waves are breaking because in these areas, floating objects are generally transported onshore. However if you are unable to swim away, just relax and calmly float or tread water to conserve energy. Eventually the rip will lose strength and you can swim away easily.

I surfed the whole morning and I was starving, so I came back to have lunch. As I was walking by the beach I heard a woman cry for help. We scrambled towards a small head bobbing about and gasping for breath. He was the woman’s little boy and we rescued him. A while back, she left him by the shore picking up stones and shells, while she tend for their lunch. But the boy caught the rip, which carried him to deep waters. This riptide is notorious in Urbiztondo Beach in San Juan, La Union. It’s just in front of a big tree several meters from the shoreline. Stand on the spot and you will feel the loosening sand as surf laps at your feet, and you will lose your balance as your weight push you down in the quicksand, then the tide comes back and picks you up offshore fast! Beach goers caught unaware are drowned this way. It has claimed lives already.

Typhoon

I was awakened by a bombardment of Lanzones-sized Gemelina seeds dropping on the GI roof as gusting winds brought by typhoon Juaning shook the trees. The mountain in the foreground pulsed as whole trees swayed by the sheer force of gale-force wind roaring down the valley. Whipped by the wind, bamboos around the creek thrashed about spewing rainwater like puffs of smoke. Leaves swirled around and flew, then fell like snow as a barn swallow flipped low then went up steeply to spiral in the sky. It gleefully succumbed to the whim of abundant wind.

At first I thought fog descended on the valley, but the haze was rain, a drifting curtain of wind-blown rain! Strong winds blew ripples appearing as white patches running across water-logged rice paddies. It knocked down everything in its path without mercy. It was already midmorning but westerly gusts continued to blow full throttle as it passed thru trees before reaching the bunk house. It shuddered. Decaying thorny vines on the branches were now heaped on the ground with a scattering of leaves, branches and whole trees. Then a thud. The house shook. There was a loud crack. Another tree fell - on the roof!

Amidst this nature’s fury is a water buffalo grazing silently on a grassy knoll. It was oblivious to all the destruction around, as it continued to chew on grass, and perhaps twigs and maybe some fallen tree barks.

SEA Games

I was watching football in the Southeast Asian Games in Indonesia. It didn’t escape me that the medium-built Asian squads are coached by towering Europeans. Small wonder since big-time football leagues started in Europe, the one continent that dominates the World Cup until Argentina and Brazil (and the entire South America) came along. It’s been made the more exciting when powerful teams sprang up from Africa. Superstars like Samuel Eto’o of Cameroon and Didier Drogba of Ivory Coast compete in fame with England’s David Beckham and Argentina’s Lionel Messi.

If you go to Korea and visit the Seoul World Cup stadium used in the 2002 World Cup hosted jointly by Japan and Korea, wide screen footages are played when Korea entered the semis. It was the first time for an Asian team in World Cup history to do it, and Guus Hiddink, its Dutch coach, became a local hero. Koreans still cry and jubilate watching those wining moments of the Korean side. But except for that single tournament, no football star from the team is heard of again. Will a football superstar emerge from Asia? And will one come from the Philippines? Why not! Now that we’re more regularly seen in international sports events, and winning too, we have proven time and again that we are at par with the rest of the world, and a football superstar is not far from reality.

A year ago, the Philippine Azkals team entered the semis of AFF (Asian Football Federation). That’s unprecedented and the whole country joined in the excitement. Two games will be played; one in Indonesia (the opposing team’s turf) and one on our soil. Admittedly until that time, football is small time, if not a totally a dead sport in the country. And when tournament officials came, no stadium passed international standards to play football! Such a shame! The two games ended up being played in Indonesia, and the home crowd hoisted the Indonesian team a slot in the finals. Anyway, Malaysia eventually won the trophy. But the good thing about the fiasco is that the Philippine Senate called for an inquiry into the state of football in the country. Yes the Philippine Senate! Right now there are local football tournaments emerging, and collegiate football is big in universities, and the Azkals attained cult like status! They got the popularity of movie stars, basketball players and politicians combined!

Caitlin Koch

The one that got away.

Marlboro Man

President Obama is smoke free. Fit for duty at the age of 50. It’s big time news for the most powerful man in the world. Good for him! I just hope the Philippine President will do the same. I was a smoker myself but I quit in 2003. And from that time onward there was no turning back. I started gym workout, became active in sports and got my strength and stamina back. Now I wake up without the nasty morning cough and back to living a healthy lifestyle for 8 years straight! I am in tiptop shape and I remember brandishing a shirt that got me the stares and proud smiles, it has a phrase printed up front in bold letters SMOKE FREE BODY.

Those who don’t and never did, can’t really comprehend the difficulty of quitting. And save your breath because whatever you say and show, and whoever you are don’t really matter because the one and only person who can stop it is the smoker himself. But why smoke in the first place? As in everything it all starts as a curiosity. Then with others smoking around you, you feel a sense of belongingness and social acceptance. Then it becomes a lifestyle. Then a habit, which is the addiction people find hard to stop.

And why can’t you stop? Because you don’t want to stop. And when you seriously do, for the first time you become aware how hooked you have become. When you’re hooked, smoking becomes more than just an addiction, it becomes a habit you can’t shake. Unlike excessive indulgences with prohibited drugs, smoking is guilt-free, done openly, it’s socially acceptable and not prohibited at all, which makes it harder abandon. It has become a part of you. It comforts you. When you reach out for it, it’s there, in your pocket. And if you don’t have any, it’s easy to get. It’s convenient. It doesn’t judge you, instead most people judge against it, and you want to protect it against judgmental non-smokers, and you want to change people’s mind about it…. because it’s your friend!

The benefits of quitting is undeniable. So keep motivating loved ones to stop. And when it’s time to quit they’ll just do…. just like me and Obama….:)))))

Kiddush Hashem

Kiddush Hashem translated from Hebrew means the sanctification of God’s name through your actions. It’s a weighty compliment not to be taken lightly says Senator Joe Lieberman, an Orthodox Jew in his book An Amazing Adventure.

I was chatting with Kostas last night via Facebook. He is Greek and worked in an office in Paris where we met a few years ago. We share the same sense of humor and often exchange tall stories that always end up in a laughing frenzy that make our jaws ache. He is now in Darfur in South Sudan volunteering with Doctors Without Borders.

Darfur is a western region in Sudan that has gone through a bloody civil war since 2003. The war was waged by the Sudanese government in an attempt to wipe out entire non-Arab indigenous populations. The international community particularly the United Nations stepped in to quell the mass murder. This culminated in the secession of South Sudan, which became an independent state on 9 July 2011, and a member of the United Nations (five) 5 days hence. At the moment, the relative peace is so fragile that another civil war could break out anytime. The hungry population is fed and nursed by the continuous outpouring of humanitarian aid. This is where Kostas came in the picture. The ever restless and adventure seeker, I thought he was now on the Trans-Siberian trail. In his Parisian office near Gare de l’Est he had the plan laid out. Now it’s put on hold. He said, “I have seen so much strife and hunger here. I would be too callused and selfish to go now.”

“Such a big heart”, I told him. “What you’re doing is a Kiddush Hashem!” He said, “Kid what? Stop fooling around naughty Filipino!” I typed “LOL!” and said, “I’m just proud of you man. I’m proud of you….”

Shark Attack!

Sharks have ultra sensitive noses to locate prey. Their favorite smell being – blood!

Recently, sharks hug the headlines due to attack on a diver in Australia and a surfer in California. Because of these reports, they are brandished once again as blood thirsty human eaters. But are they really? The answer is no.

In California and Australia where the attacks occurred, a shark’s diet normally consists of seals and walruses. If you’re at the bottom looking up, surfers sitting on boards look just like that – seals! This explains why not a single surfer is attacked in our waters (in the Philippines) simply because our sharks have a different diet. They are big Tuna eaters and other smaller fish. Reported attacks were limited to spear fishermen for the obvious reason that – they were surrounded by fish kill’s blood, which is the one thing most irresistible to sharks. The Australia incident involved a diver, and though it wasn’t clear in the reports, I bet he had been spear fishing too….

So, do these reports prevent people from going to the beach and enjoy the ocean? Are surfers daunted to paddle out in search of that perfect wave? Definitely not! It’s just like asking why climb the Himalayas? Why bungee? Why skydive? It’s the adrenaline rush and the smell of adventure that keep us going back to the ocean even if it means risking a bite or two and being mistaken for a seal by a SHARK….

Chaos & Coffee

Vietnam is the second largest coffee producer in the world and it has a unique way of serving coffee: In a personalized coffee maker, condensed milk is placed at the bottom of the cup to which brewed coffee slowly drips. When the cup is full, stir, then drink. It’s Vietnamese coffee, a taste like no other. And there is no better way to taste it than at the downtown market. But to get there, we had to pass through traffic…. of the Vietnamese kind. Take a look.

Sub-Human Earthlings

Chuck Yeager, the test pilot who paved the way for supersonic flights has an extraordinary pair of eyes. A perfectly normal eyesight is 20-20, and the higher the number, the poorer one’s eyesight becomes. Chuck’s is 20-10. Mere specks in the horizon are clear objects in his vision! This ability was his advantage in dogfights that sent enemy planes spiraling down back to earth in WWII. Similarly, Manny Pacquiao, Boxing’s current pound for pound king has the extraordinary gift of quickness. Being repeatedly hit blind, his opponents become apprehensive as to where the next blow will come from. Knocked down on the floor they wouldn’t know what hit them until shown the footage of the fight!

Let’s watch him again on November 13, 2011 for a third bout with Mexican’s pride Juan Manuel Marquez! It’s a human fighter extra-ordinaire versus a sub-human earthling with the quickness of lightning! The earth will tremble!

25 Cents Twice Over

When I was in elementary school I had 25 cents to spend for recess. This was a time when 10 cents can buy an ice candy and another 10 for a banana cue. The remaining 5 cents will be for hard candies, which you can buy for 2, sometimes 3. My two sisters and I would line up from the counter in our store to show Mom and Dad our recess money of 25 cents. At the time there were two kinds, one being smaller than the other. The bigger one has the Lady Justice engraved on one side, which can effectively conceal the smaller coin under it. That’s how I came to school twice richer than my sisters. This went on for a while until one morning: We lined up again with me being last to show my open palm. As fate would have it, I stubbed my left foot on the edge of a cabinet, lost my balance, and the two coins clanked on the floor! It sounded like a thunderstorm and I felt my heart jumped off from my chest. I don’t remember much after that as everything happened in slow motion, and suddenly things were hazy as I was involuntarily lifted when my left ear got twisted. But there was one thing I remember clearly: for two weeks I was denied snack money - one week for each coin I smuggled from the counter….

Flags of Our Fathers

South Korea. Today I am with my friend Jean-Christophe from Denmark. After going around Dongdaemun, we sampled dishes in an eatery in the downtown market. In contrast to Filipino diet of basic 3 meals a day, I learned from him that Danes eat 6 mini but full meals including natmad, a snack eaten before going to bed.

As we talked, his eyes fell on my shirt which had a big Philippine flag printed on it. Feeling patriotic, I painstakingly narrated how Agoncillo sewed the pieces of cloths together and what the sun, stars and each color stand for. Then he told of his flag’s story which goes like this: During the Battle of Lyndanisse (near Estonia) in the early 13^th century, the flag suddenly fell from heaven; King Valdemar II took it and rallied his troops to victory…. I was silent for a while uncomprehending the lack of drama. “You are joking, right?” I rebuked. He wasn’t. Then he told of Vikings with emphasis on the bravery and fearlessness of exploration. Remarkable yes, but I had no parallel story to tell of my people! Not one to be outtalked, I said, “You know Ferdinand Magellan, right? He was out to conquer and prove the earth was round? Before completing the voyage, we killed him!” It’s a historical fact of course, but told not in an academic way historians do, but with the fiery stance of a debater!

Don’t get me wrong, this was a friendly exchange on culture and history but, well, ok, also in the spirit of competition. So we brag a bit and lie a little, but we enjoyed each other’s company nonetheless. Filipinos and Danes are breeds apart and I realized how different we were, but at the same time, how so much alike! He drank water while I bottomed the last gulp of Coca Cola. In unison we said, “Lets go!” 

Dad

Dad’s a big time Matt Monroe fanatic but he also had a soft spot for another crooner, and only his one song – Jerry Vale and the song If. Dad was a friendly guy. If somebody chanced to smile at him he smiles back and starts talking, and there is no letting up. I remember him visiting us in Cebu. He was gone for a while in the morning. Afternoon came and somebody knocked at the door looking for him. I quizzically asked, “You know my father?” “Yes”, he said. “We had a drink by the store just across the street.” It was the first time father ever came to the area and now somebody was looking for him as if they know each other for a long time.

Father loved deeply. It goes for us as well as to his friends. He was generous and genuinely cares. One of his best buddies was Liyong, a blacksmith. We often visited his shop, which also doubles as his home. They felt like family to us. We would talk, and laugh for hours. There was always laughter. This is how I remember those visits: As we talk, Liyong fires the furnace to smelt steel. It was a coal burner stoked by a pedal-powered blower turning the coal orange-hot. Sparks fly as the coal is stirred by a metal rod. Steel is strong but malleable when heated. When the furnace is hot enough, steel is set on the smoldering coal. When it glows red, it is placed on the anvil. Liyong and two of his sons alternately hammers it to flatten the metal and they have to do it fast because steel can lose malleability if exposed too long in the burning furnace. Liyong finishes the process by pounding some more to attain the desired shape, mostly long bolos and knives. He then comes back to the conversation. “As you were saying?” More often than not, the talks and laughter continue long after the embers have cooled.

Another of Dad’s friends was Tinong, a tinsmith. His shop is just in front of mother’s store in the market. Tinong specializes in making sinks, water tanks, rain gutters and chimneys, all made of GI sheets. The process in making these items is more or less the same as that of Liyong’s, the blacksmith, but Tinong’s equipment is much smaller. It’s just a torch, but powerful enough to turn metals red.

Everyday, his shop buzzes with clanking and hammering. Whole GI sheets will be cut into strips by metal scissors. The strips will be joined together by molten lead and a clamp is used to hold the sheets to be joined. Then a metal rod is torched, turning it super hot. It will be used to melt the lead stick and pressed directly on the surfaces to be joined. But before that, the fiery rod is quickly soaked in sulfuric acid causing it to sputter, like a hiss cut short.

But Pascual I guess is Dad’s favorite. He owns a vulcanizing shop. He mends flat tires while puffing his cigarettes. I often watch with curiosity the work of this tire virtuoso. First, he takes off the inner tube to find the holes in it. To do this, the tube will be filled with air then soaked underwater (a metal drum vertically cut in half holds the water). The pressure pushes air out through the hole in the tube, which is made visible by bubbles escaping from it. A little stick (a toothpick for example) is used to mark the spot. A special clamp topped with a cuplike container filled with used engine oil is lighted to heat it. The inner tube with a rubber strip pasted on the hole is wedged between the clamp, then heat and pressure is applied. After a few minutes, the rubber bonds with the inner tube. Pascual fills it with air again, then soaks it underwater to check for bubbles. Finding none, he puts it back inside the tire, pulls the rim in, and finally filled with air. And that tire is ready to roll on the road again.

Pascual’s shop is just across the street. In the afternoons, one wink between the two meant let’s have that drink! Their wives would smirk, but understand. After another day of honest work, these boys needed those rum shots!

Two Brothers And Flight Attendants

I remember this story of two brothers from an in-flight magazine. There once lived two brothers. One was a drunkard, while the other shuns alcohol altogether. When asked about their opposite state of affairs both replied: “Because our father was a drunkard.” I figured, the situation does not make the man. It’s what he does out of it that makes him so.

A few years ago, I took an American Airlines flight from Burbank in Los Angeles to San Jose in Monterey, California. A tall and full-bodied African-American stewardess caught my eye. Instead of stooping down and carefully placing the items, she was throwing peanuts and napkins at empty seats. I was surprised. And since I wasn’t exposed to black people, this incident has left a bad impression on me towards them. The following year, I was in an Etihad Airlines flight from Manila to Charles De Gaulle Airport in Paris. I can’t help but notice this black flight attendant who had the spitting image of a young Naomi Campbell. “May I have a glass of water please.” I managed to ask. “Do you want it cold?” She replied with an enchanted smile. I said “Yes” and was instantly charmed by the warmth of her character. I realized that color is irrelevant, it’s the attitude that defines a human being….

Charade

Sexy German Girl was a little tricky. The sexy girl part was easy, but how to act out the German word gets everybody going nuts! Then I suggested the Fuhrer salute. I guessed nobody else noticed my suggestion but Roman, and he is German. We locked eyes. His pleading and embarrassed look squashed my heart, and I understood, feeling shame for being unmindful of the sensitivities of others. “Nazism is a shameful German past”, quips Ina who is half-German, half Russian and lives in Kyrgyzstan. “Europeans harbor a kind of quiet animosity towards us since German forces destroyed much of Europe during WWII.” This often leads to inconveniences when traveling around the continent, she confessed, so when asked about her nationality Ina replies, “Russian.”

Jinggoy

Cebu, my first immersion in a society so far from home. At the time, I was a freshman living in a boarding house of over 70 students coming from different parts of the Visayas and Mindanao. One particular boardmate I admire was Jinggoy who was in his senior year. He has the quality of a natural-born leader. He was soft spoken with a distinct sense of humor. Everybody was drawn to him. He has that kind look as if he understood people. He only has to smile at you and you trust him at once. I didn’t have an older brother and I longed for one to teach me a thing or two, so Jinggoy was the older brother I never had.

One time, I guess it was during a semestral break or the start of the new semester I can’t remember exactly, but at the time there were only a handful of us in the boarding house, Jinggoy invited me to come with him to have beer by a roadside joint. We didn’t talk much. We just drank beer and watched people passing by. It was relaxing. A kind of situation where you don’t have to do anything, and it’s all right. This was a long time ago and I wonder where Jinggoy is now.

There is such a thing as a man’s man. The You-want-people-to-know-you-are-friends-with-this-man kind of man? He is that kind, my friend, Jinggoy.

Mixed Eating

We were having dinner in a restaurant. I was seated in the same table with one who has strong convictions on not eating pork, and another who absolutely shun beef. Both meats are prohibited by the edict of their respective religions. The trouble was that, small slices of pork and beef were grilled in the same sizzling hot plate on opposite sides, and since this was a Korean restaurant, spoons, forks and knives were unavailable, so we were forced to use chopsticks. As we were eating, my eyes shifted back and forth between the two diners. Quite expectedly, both tried to avoid eating meat close to the middle of the pan. However, since their chopsticks work were lousy, morsels of beef and pork jumped off, and flew, then ended up on the wrong sides! They were stunned, except us who found it wickedly amusing. “No worries” I said while carefully picking the errant meat then plopped it to my mouth.

Great Grandma

She sells tobacco in the market. She had a table there with a drawer where she keeps her sales money. She sits on a stool and every time I come to visit, she’s always dozing off. I would slowly pull up a bunch of tobacco leaves from under her sprawled arms. It doesn’t startle but enough to wake her up. She smiles. I would shove an open hand in front of her face, and she gives me 5 cents after jokingly squeezing my arm or pinching my belly.

Great Grandma stays with us in the house. She’s the kind who likes to give presents. She brings a pack of biscuits every time she comes back from work. It’s not much really but the thought of getting a treat always fills us with longing and anticipation. So when a tricycle stops in front of the house at dusk, we would run towards the gate to meet Grandma. After kissing her hand, she hands over the pack and we start munching on the biscuits like our lives depended upon it.

The Bridge

The Golden Gate bridge which spans San Francisco bay is a sight to behold. Its total length including approaches is 8,981 feet, the middle span is 4,200 feet, a width of 90 feet and clearance above the high water of 220 feet. It is immortalized in song and romanticized in films. But unbeknownst to many, this icon is much more tragic in reality than its romantic myth. As depicted in this sensational documentary The Bridge by filmmaker Eric Steel.

Everyday of the year the whole bridge is painted orange starting from one end to the other. But as soon as the last square inch of metal is coated, it needs repainting! So back they go again to do the brush strokes on where they started (38 painters working continuously along with 17 ironworkers who replace corroding steel and rivet). Next time you pass by Golden Gate, look for telltale signs. You will likely see platforms and ropes, and acrobats in overalls hanging on their harnesses retouching the bridge with a brilliant orange hue. If you do, and did see, come back here and do tell!

Revolution

Gaddafi is dead. But it’s just icing on the cake. The real story is the revolution that happened a few months ago. People held mass rallies and captured one city at a time. Gaddafi held on to power. His men plowed the streets with tanks and Kalashnikovs. But the protests didn’t let up, the country descended into civil war, and lives were lost but victory was won.

We had the same revolution many years before but I was too young then to participate in mass protests. On TV, we saw millions of people came out in the streets in the capital city of Manila. But they sing and held hands. There was no bloodshed. And people were giving out food to soldiers and placing roses on tank nozzles. In its aftermath, we installed a new president and she had her own cabinet in a few days time, and people went about their business, then things kind of return to normal.

Now that Libya is freed after 42 years, what’s next? How’s power turned over? It should learn from Egypt, which also had its own revolution a few months ago. After the successful uprising a holdover military junta became the takeover government, but it wasn’t functioning right and the whole country fell into anarchy, which is a prelude to chaos. And right now there is chaos in Egypt. People fear for their lives. Lawless elements are empowered to loot and steal and destroy property. Crimes are exploding everywhere. Libya seems to be heading in that direction since there is no apparent takeover government.

A few more months before the Egyptian revolution (after 30 years under Hosni Mubarak) Tunisia hugged the headlines when a man burned himself to death following police brutality. It sparked protests (against unemployment, corruption and repression) that culminated in a revolution and triggering what is now called the Arab Spring. Today 23 October 2011, Tunisia is holding its first free elections after 23 years of Totalitarian rule by Zine El-Abidine Ben Ali.

There is agitation in the entire region, and beyond. There are civil uprisings in Algeria, Morocco and Mauritania, major protests in Syria, Yemen and Oman. Ditto with Bahrain, Jordan and Lebanon. Saudi Arabia will suffer the same fate if not for newly installed reforms. A few months ago the right of suffrage was bestowed on women for the first time, and just recently women are now allowed to run for public office. In the recent past, women were considered second-class citizens and constrained to hide behind their burkas in public places. Will the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia be spared from this string of revolutions that gripped North Africa? It now creeps across the Sinai Peninsula towards the Middle East. Like the plague, revolution spreads, fast and furious!

Samurai House

Erected on a foothill, we stayed in a century old Samurai House. It has two-foot thick grass roof and sliding wooden windows and walls pocked with small square openings covered in white paper. It has low beds and low tables, and on one corner, a sword.

At night we shared stories back home. As an archipelago, the sea naturally separates the Filipino islanders, I told Sudarshan, one of the more colorful characters in this motley group. He is from Nepal and speaks a heavily accented English. In time, things develop apart and distinct from one another like the languages we speak. As I came to know, a parallel situation is true of Nepal, which straddles the Himalayas. Though only a strip of land on a map, the tall mountains isolate groups of people from one another making it possible for multi-cultures to flourish including diverse spoken languages.

Ana joined us after hearing our mountain talk. She was particularly fond of pictures with mountain backgrounds, and when she clicked the Rice Terraces folder in my computer, she was totally blown away! Small wonder she is from Tallinn, the capital city of the Baltic state of Estonia. She said that except for humps and mounds here and there, her country is totally flat. In fact the whole area (eastern shores of the Baltic sea) which includes the republics of Latvia and Lithunia, and the Russian enclave Kaliningrad are flat places. It is topographically the European equivalent of African prairies. I promised her that when she come to visit Philippines I’ll show her all our tall mountains, carved mountains, and mountains with hanging coffins! She was thrilled, and then gasped hearing the last one. 

It was already late and a chilling wind blew from the mountains. Somebody must have come in and didn’t close the door. I closed it while Ana put out the paper lanterns. Then I heard a loud noise. Somebody was snoring already - Sudarshan!

Mavericks

 Mavericks 

Now that winter is coming, it is almost time for the mavericks Invitational happening at Pilar Point in the bay Area. In this picturesque seaside village of Princeton-By-The-Sea, just a few miles north of Half-Moon Bay is the menacing Mavericks for the serious big wave surfer. It routinely crests at 25 feet and top out at over 80 feet! Big wave surfing seems fun but with one wrong calculation at Mavs, a mountain of water from the Pacific Ocean crashes on you. The resulting turbulence shakes your wits out. If it isn’t scary enough, the thundering waves spin and turn you over, and scrape you towards rock bottoms and hard corals. Your red blood will stain the blue sea. You gasp for air. You are smothered. Then you die. It’s a sport no more. It’s suicide! But I didn’t think so until I have seen the monster myself with my own two eyes. It’s scary as hell! I prefer the friendly waves of La Union. When the time is right, there will be swells and offshore winds churning out 5-foot glassy waves for the ultimate afternoon session long enough to catch some stokes chased at night by beach party and cold beer! 

Imagine

Imagine, the one song that immortalized John Lennon was sang by this man. And man, did it fit, and poignantly so! You can’t watch it without choking. He lives in Australia, in his twenties now, born at a time Desert Storm made landfall in his native country Iraq. He has a handsome face, twisted limbs, deformed body and walks askew. He has no birth certificate and no identity, only a haunting image! The singing wasn’t great though, but the message soared across the performance hall then on to the world wide web! He instantly became a poster boy - of humanity torn by war, a poignant reminder of what we have become as citizens of the world. And what have we really become? Imagine….

Easily my kind of homie! This slang got mainstream all over X- Factor. Just got out of rehab, hauls trash for a living and got to raise a 2-year old kid, so the interview goes before the audition. On stage, he told it again – through the lyrics of a catchy song he wrote himself! It was so current as if he just picked up the song out of thin air seconds before the actual audition! After swaying and nodding to the beat, the judges can’t help but get a little melodramatic for him to go clean and sober all the way. “What are you trippin now?” my homie Chris Rene!

It doesn’t get any better than this. An absolute stunner! A rugby coach? Yes she is! And the singing? Like the smell of flowers on a breezy summer day, and strawberry fields, and walks in the park. A classy act! “Think about it baby….”

Up On A Roof

“Dili man ko nimu pinangga!” (You don’t care for me!) my 3-year old daughter grumpily told me over the phone. “Ali na!” (come over quickly!). “But I have no visa yet, I replied. She fell silent. Then I said, “When I come, will you meet me at the airport? “Yes”, she agreed, “But in the house, you sleep on the roof.” Then I said “What if it rains, will you give me an umbrella?” To which she quickly replied, “Which color?”

A Temple And A Ceremony

Jiri Mountains 
  

An explosion of autumn leaves trailed our path southward until we coasted to a stop under the shade of trees with strange, orange sweet globules I call temple fruits. Perched on Jirisan, the temple’s main gate opens directly towards a saddle of two distant mountains, as if built for special visitors coming from that direction. In the morning, the sun rose exactly from beneath the saddle! I realized, whoever constructed it had the grand plan of incorporating nature in its architecture.

Then he summoned us to come. We were ushered into an airy room where we can see though the wide open windows the rolling terrain of verdant green grass. It was so peaceful and quiet that we can hear the murmur of the river in the valley below. There was a low table with a teapot, a thermos, dried leaves and tiny cups and various other ceramics neatly piled on it. The table was small but long enough to accommodate the four (4) of us. Our host was seated cross legged on the other side. His head was shiny. He was wearing a robe and a lingering smile that seemed to be part of the garment of this congenial man – the temple’s resident Chief Monk. We squatted just like him on throw pillows. There was something about the man, it’s the state he’s in that’s so palpable, the kind we’ve always wanted to achieve – a state of contentment. As he started to talk in a soft but engaging low voice, tea started pouring in.

The ceramic cups on the low table were tiny and contain only half a gulp of tea poured three times from cup to pot and back again. As he poured, he raised the pot higher and higher until an unbroken stream of golden liquid filled the tiny cup to a bubbly brim. He handed one to me and gestured that I drink it. I was only too happy to oblige. He filled other tiny cups in the same fashion while the others eagerly wait for their turn. As the conversation progressed, he made more tea: putting dried tea leaves in the pot, adding hot water, covering it, pouring tea on the tiny cups, pouring it back in the pot, then doing it all over again. Nothing is spelt. His movements were precise and rhythmic and flowing, but without missing a beat of the conversation.

We looked at each other in total amazement! This was tea ceremony performed in front of us! It’s an age-old tradition passed down from generation to generation in China, Japan and Korea to entertain visitors. But this practice has now become a rarity, and done only in very special, formal occasions. To experience it intimately, and in such an unexpected occasion is a humbling experience. I looked at the Chief Monk once again. He was an image of serenity and quiet bliss. We held on to his every word as we became deeply immersed in this old ritual, in a temple deep in the Jiri mountains.

The Queen and a Scorpion

The Queen Mary was an ocean liner plying the North Atlantic in the 1930s. It catered to partying heads of states, business moguls, celebrities and such people. Sans the iceberg, it’s in the same league as the Titanic. We checked the view deck, the Captain’s chamber, the gulley, boiler rooms, ballroom and the black and white photos of its loyal patrons. We imagined the lavish parties while munching on sumptuous sour dough and clam chowder. For classification purposes, the ship is categorized not as it is, a ship, (much less, as an ocean going vessel) but as a building! It has long been stripped of its propellers and engines, and decommissioned several decades ago. The Queen Mary now serves as a hotel and museum at Long Beach in California.

When we came out there was an ongoing weightlifting competition covered by ESPN, but I was drawn more to a shop selling KGB flasks and memorabilia of the once mighty Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (U.S.S.R.). And take this: Right beside the Queen Mary was the Scorpion, a Russian attack submarine! This sub is of the Foxtrot class which is among the biggest non-nuclear submarines in the world! It is shaped like a fat stick; equipments, wires, torpedoes, are slang, rigged and ran along its length. The bunk beds are so thin you can only sleep on it one way – sideways! Hollywood war films glorify the sub, but in the heat of things, I can imagine the pungent kitchen smell floating in the gulley and stinking soldiers and technicians yelling at each other. The Scorpion, like other war machines are a blight on civilization, but they make good tourist attractions especially when moored side by side an equally distinguished ship, the Queen Mary.

Touch The Color

Many years back I had a girlfriend who had so many nephews and nieces in her house. So when I come to visit, they would be all over the place tugging at my shirt to play. At first I didn’t know how to handle these little rascals, but a bulb lighted in my head one particular visit. It was a Sunday.

We’ll play a game of Touch The Color! It’s simple enough; I will call a color and they would scramble to be the first to touch wherever they find it: on furniture, walls, curtains, floors, and yeah, shirts. At first I would let them touch colors within the room, then I will call colors in specific areas like “Touch the color yellow in the kitchen or Touch the color blue in the basement.” Yeah, things like that until I call colors from very far places, like “Touch the color red in the neighbor’s porch at the corner of the street.” And I got more imaginative every time, and it’s fun right? And they would shriek in delight, run fast and come back tired, very tired, perspiring tired; and one by one they would sink in chairs, asleep. And then…. alone time with the pretty aunt!

Airports and Freedom

Jackson Hole airport behind Grand Teton range

I haven’t travelled for a while so I let my mind wander, back in time to loosen up and let myself free. And if there’s one thing that signifies freedom, it’s this –airports! Inviting, promising, fresh, and always with fascinating stories to tell behind their names; so when I’m bored, tired, confused, occupied, in a fit? I go to airports, international airports, and mingle with travelers; then my mind is relaxed, and begins to wander, to various destinations, new territories. Ahh this wanderlust….

One of the best airports I’ve been to is located in a valley, in the U.S. state of Wyoming, near the western border with Idaho. Simplistic design, mostly made of timber, low, rustic – this airport felt like a log cabin, a cozy home in the midst of two of the most beloved national parks in the continental United States, Yellowstone and Grand Teton and this airport is at the base of Grand Teton range itself. History has it that early trappers (for fur) most notably David Edward Jackson had to descend this valley along steep slopes, giving the sensation of entering a hole. Hence the name, for both the valley and the airport -Jackson Hole.

Maybe not a fascinating story, but this one is: O’Hare Airport in Michigan, one of the busiest in the world in terms of passenger volume and aircraft movement. This is the story, as told by Justice Sandoval of the Sandiganbayan in one forum:

Passengers at O’Hare International airport   

There was a lawyer named – Edward Joseph O’Hare who made himself a fortune by defending this loathsome bootlegger and murderer -Al Capone, the iconic Godfather of Chicago. Al Capone calls him Easy Eddie. O’Hare, nearing the end of his life was conscience stricken, he promised to leave his only son the best gift he could give – a good name. But in doing so, he had to turnaround and bite Capone in the neck. So what used to be spoken in codes and whispers in dimly lit corners, were exposed in the open - O’Hare told all of Al’s illegal businesses in the heat of a tax evasion case hearings! He paid this expose with his life (shot in the head by Capone’s gunmen), but O’Hare had set the example for his son, who later on became Lieutenant Commander of the Navy Edward Henry “Butch” O’Hare.

Butch enlisted in the Navy. This was World War II. War in the Pacific. February 20, 1942. When the younger O’Hare was guarding the aircraft carrier USS Lexington with his wingman Duff (while most of the fighter planes were out on several missions) a fleet of Japanese fighter-bombers attacked the Lexington. Though heavily outnumbered, Butch managed to shot down 3 Japanese planes and damaged another. Because of this heroism, he saved the Lexington from destruction, became a flying ace and was awarded the Medal of Honor; and yes, lent his name for an airport in Chicago, Illinois -the Edward Henry O’Hare airport.

Ahh airports, and freedom yes, they make good stories. And wanderlust? Yeah, yeah, keeps recurring….

Crossing Antarctica

The Dream Team    
   

“I’ve been monitoring your frequency as best I can. We would like you to give us a brief talk when you arrive to tell us how things have been going.

Okay we will probably arrive on December 11^th between 6 and 8pm or around 11 or 12 on December 12, Chile time.

Okay that is understood. We are on New Zealand time and it is 11:54 in the morning of December 7^th.

Okay. You’re operating a day ahead of us, so we will most likely arrive early morning on your 12^th.”

This conversation (between the Trans-Antarctic expedition team and the South Pole station of the U.S. National Science Foundation) brings into perspective the different time zones. It fascinates me immensely, and pardon the cliché but, I was drawn to the story like moth to flame.

Crossing Antarctica – by dogsled, has never been attempted before; not until a motley crew of 6 men embarked on a shared childhood dream immortalized in the book Crossing Antarctica by famed adventurer Will Steger. It began at Seal Nunataks (nearest Antarctic airport south of Chile in the Atlantic) and ended after 3,700 miles and 220 days later to the Russian base at Mirnny in the Indian Ocean.

Dogsleds 

17 miles; just 17 miles of travel per day, it seems a snail’s pace; but in this forbidding, desolate and frozen wasteland – it’s a marathon! In order to grasp the full weight of this trekking madness, the team has to endure on a daily basis the following: Sastrugi, a wind-eroded, hard-packed snow surface with irregular grooves and sharp ridges often appearing like frozen waves. It is very difficult to cross by foot or on skis; Crevasse, cracks in the ice hidden by fallen snow. It ranges from a few feet deep to a hundred. However, it’s not the depth that kills, it’s the narrowing of the walls of ice rendering you incapable of moving in a death grip; Whiteout, literally white blindness, is created when light reflects and refracts both from the snow surface and from a thick cloud ceiling. Surface definition is lost because there are no shadows; the horizon disappears as the white surface blends into the white clouded sky.

Crevasse  

But the worst of these is that which is unseen. Antarctica is shaped like a bottle cap sloping gently from the interior plateaus down to the coast. As the elevation drops and the air warms, the gusting winds known as Katabatics grow stronger up to 200 miles per hour. They come up without notice. They can hurl heavy objects into the air and blow men from their feet. They pick up snow flakes, ice crystals and frozen pellets, all of which blown in the wind, become abrasive material that can polish rough metal to brilliant sheen.

The Dream Team is composed of 6 people travelling in two-man team dogsleds of 6-8 dogs each starting with: Japanese Keizo Funatsu who is an excellent dog handler; French Jean Louis Etienne is the team’s radio man who has explored Greenland and the Himalayas. He climbed Patagonia twice and made a successful solo to the North Pole; Russian Viktor Boyarsky has meteorological studies in his bag and already experienced two winters in Antarctica; British Geoff Somers is an accomplished adventurer who has spent 35 years in Antarctica as a guide with the British Antarctic Survey; Chinese Qin Dahe is an esteemed glaciologist; 24 gallant dogs; and American Will Steger has explored the Arctic by dogsled and skis and an unprecedented (at the time) unsupported trek to the North Pole. He wrote this story.

Nunatak                                                                       Sastrugi

It’s daunting to squeeze in just a few paragraphs a remarkable journey (literally to the bottom of the earth) told by Will Steger that’s filled with the smell of adventure at every page. But I will try to capture some of the moments excerpted following, starting with the landscape:

Since the start at Seal Nunataks, colossal forces of nature ruled over the expedition. These are glaciers, the gigantic rivers of ice that takes a year to move as far as you can walk in a few minutes. The corrugated land mass formed by the moving glacier is called a moraine; and when a piece of a glacier breaks off and floats in the water, it’s called an iceberg. Antarctica (like Greenland) are technically Ice sheets. An Ice Sheet is a mass of glacier ice that covers surrounding terrain and is greater than 50,000 square kilometers; masses of ice covering less than 50,000 square kilometers are termed an Ice cap. Small areas of rocks emerging above ice sheets and glaciers are called Nunataks, magnificent views but invisible in a whiteout, a fatal situation when you are left out in the cold.

Glacier 

Keizo was almost killed in one of these dreaded whiteouts. He was just a few hundred feet from his tent but couldn’t find it amidst the storm and -50 degree wind chills. He survived by digging and burying himself in the snow and staying overnight until the winds let up. The team found him in the morning after searching for hours in figureless whiteness.

Viktor, who uses the walls of his tent to a keep a record of the team’s progress, has developed a penchant for early morning show showers (even in whiteout conditions) by going out barefoot and nude into whatever condition he finds and scrubs up with snow. For the others, bathing is confined to a small washcloth and a few ounces of lukewarm water. Viktor is rock steady and keeps an almost unshakable optimism. But even the strongest breaks in the face of desperate conditions. One time when he was leading, Viktor stepped on soft snow and fell in a crevasse. He didn’t notice it because a bridge of snow spans the jaws of this gaping hole, and he didn’t straddle a rope as Geoff warned. Luckily, he was able to grab the harness of his lead dog and pulled himself in to safety. Unlike Viktor, Qin Dahe was always careful, but he has not yet mastered dog sledding or skiing. He falls many times a day in negotiating sastrugi, and each time he does, the rest of the team twinge out of sympathy and responsibility. Qin however, collects ice samples for study, a very valuable role in the expedition.

Iceberg 

Jean Louis probably holds the most adventures and was always optimistic, but he almost gave up the expedition fearing loss of life when they were unable to locate a cache of food and supplies. At the time, a dog died and the other dogs had frost bites. But Will, in the lead, is always in a problem-solving mode and somehow managed to squeeze out the last remaining ounce of optimism in Jean Louis. Halfway through the expedition, they were low on supplies and the resupply plane was cancelled twice owing to forbidding storms. Acting on their collective survival instincts, the team built cairns every two kilometers to guide the aircraft to where they are. Cairns are 6-foot high snow forming visible trail viewed from the air. This was a decision reached upon Will’s initiative. But Geoff oftentimes challenge Will’s leadership and decisions. Heated arguments ensue and they would hate each other for a while, but exchanges like these only made them resolve to push harder towards the finish line.

Inching towards the bottom of the earth, it’s surreal to have a glimpse of the team pulled by the dogs creeping down the lines of the globe as Will wrote on December 4, Day 13:

“When we made camp last night, we were at 87°14’, today, after travelling 25 miles, we estimate we’re at 87°35’. Sometime tomorrow we should cross south of 88°. The miles and the degrees just keep ticking by.”

Mile after frozen mile, the dogs need to stay warm by burying themselves in the snow as insulation against the bitter whipping winds. This is quite hard to imagine by somebody coming from the tropics, for how can cold-snow warm you?

Ice Cap

One time the dogs were shaken by a snow quake. Snow quakes are caused when snow that has built up in a layer several inches thick –covering an area from room size to bigger than a football field collapses from its own weight, dropping a few inches all at once. Though totally harmless, snow quakes can be frightening. So when it happened, all three dog teams scattered, attempting to run away from the loud noise.

A dog in particular was Thule, the only female dog in the team. She was a lead dog. Surrounded by admirers, she wasn’t disappointed when in the midst of the expedition, she was in heat. Her ensuing pregnancy made headlines around the world and many were excited to bring home Antarctic-born pups - she had four, but all died! This had taken a toll on the team that even menial tasks got frustrating like melting snow for drinking and cooking water, and hoping that the heat rising from the stove dries out the clothes hanging from the tent’s ceiling, because in these conditions, moisture is the mortal enemy, drying the savior. 

Sun Halo  

As the team approaches the South Pole, a sun halo greeted the team. Sun halos are visible all over the world and can be seen whenever the sky is wisped or hazed; much smaller colored rings around the sun are called Coronas. Just before sleeping, Geoff made the point of going for a walk around the globe. Choosing a 10-foot radius around the South Pole, he crossed every line of longitude and passed from Monday into Tuesday and back into Monday. Tomorrow, he says, he’s going to take Thule for a walk around the world.

Just a few paces…. around the world…. literally, in just a few seconds, amazing!

It struck me that Antarctica can be so colorful. Unlike most accounts about the continent, it’s not all whiteness, and ice and snow; Will Steger tells of double rainbows, and green skies, and dusk shades of orange and yellow. This was quite an adventure where you are forced to trust your teammates with your life, to sometimes rely on gut feel alone, and to really live one day at a time. Thanks Will, Keizo, Jean, Qin and Geoff, and my favorite Viktor Boyarsky! And the dogs too! In dark days, I will remember you, and then hope will spring as clear as that sun halo Will so ably described in this immensely entertaining book Crossing Antarctica. I read it and was grabbed by the throat!

Murphy’s Law

I was buying phone cards in a retail store at Shang. A sign says “Out for lunch.” So I browsed through shops in the vicinity while waiting. I checked every so often to see if the counter girl has come back. No, not yet. I was deliberately patient in an attempt to beat Murphy’s Law which rule our lives most of the time but thirty minutes passed and not a shadow of her in sight so I decided to buy somewhere else. I know it’s pointless but just to drive home the idea, I came back just after a fleeting five minutes, just five minutes or so. There, as clear as daylight, by the counter, behind clear glass, she was fixing her hair, admiring herself, turning left, right, eyes glued at her pocket mirror; she pouted her lips, blink blink. Murphy’s right!!!   

Flying Wood Nibblers

Approaching the end of their lives eating away wood, termites produce wings and fly.

The sun already started to set when they came in droves overwhelming the forest. They were everywhere, on our food, in our drinks, our necks and ears. We swatted and slapped and smacked and ran around but there was no escaping the pesky little fliers. I looked up and saw birds circling around trees on mountaintops before swooping and dive-bombing in midair. It was sheer pandemonium in the skies! I realized these birds were eating the winged termites! Perhaps out of worms? Whatever, nature has a way of feeding the birds.

After an hour or so of frenzied flying, their wings fall out and they dropped on the grouind, dead. The birds disappeared and the show ended as quickly as it had began….

Lightning Bugs

Nature awes by its suddenness and vivid imagery like the flash of lightning in a thunderstorm or the rush of water in a flooded river. But its not all violence and destruction sometimes it’s mellow and quiet but fascinating just the same like yesterday in the farm. There was no moon, under a starry sky, trees were mere sillhouetes but one, it glittered with fireflies!!! 

Speed

Like the speeding train in the main page image, I felt like an accelerating bullet to bullseye!

Kalbo

Kalbo was sobbing silently in the corner. He cut two of his toes with a sharp bolo. Seeing blood and the fresh cuts on the ten-year old boy made me shiver. But it was nothing to be bothered about. Not for this family whose patriarch sports a big scar on his neck. He was attacked with a machete a few years back, his head almost separating from his body.

Today, the kids are to carry on their shoulders sack-loads of charcoal across the river. And despite the cuts, Kalbo has to share in the labor. With wild herbs and a piece of cloth, he bandaged his toes, took a sack-load of charcoal, and limped his way along the footpath snaking across a hill towards the valley below.

Sweet and Chewy

On our way back to the farm we met two boys downhill. One was carrying a container half-filled with raw honey and bees. We inspected this forest’s sweetest temptation. “Try eating the honeycomb, it’s sweet and chewy”, the other boy said. I did. It’s sweet, and chewy all right. Without further ado, I bought a bottle, with extra honeycomb to chew!

Torrijos Wilderness

I was walking in the woods one afternoon. Shafts of sunlight penetrated the thick undergrowth. It is quiet, so quiet in fact, that I don’t even hear the rustle of leaves. I stepped on a twig and it snapped, then birds flew in the distance. It’s that kind of quiet, it’s the very essence of wilderness.

The Kingfisher and Fallen Acacia

We have to clear land about three hectares for planting Moringa. The old trees have to stay but the secondary ones and undergrowth need to be removed. Thick smoke bellowed from the bushfires. I was having trouble deciding whether to remove a fallen Acacia since most of its branches are rotting on the ground, and only a quarter of its roots is keeping the tree alive. But it has one long sinewy branch, like a lone standing soldier of a once mighty army. Compounding the situation is a blue bird perched on top. It has a white breast, royal blue plumage and a long and pointed black beak. He is obviously keeping his ground amidst the burning. My heart fell for the bird and I brought the melodramatic story to the group, who within split seconds of each other, blurted “Ah the Kingfisher. It attacks small animals especially chicks with its beak, and blinds them!”

Needless to say, we cut the tree.

Marinduque Island

A week felt like a month here. Marinduque, is, an island. That’s it and that’s all. Small, sleepy and quiet, an island you can drive around within a few hours. Power outages are a fact of life. Days are hot, nights are lonely. You only hear crickets and wind and splashing waves. But around end of March and early April, the whole island erupts in a week-long festival called Moriones, a religious tradition that has become one frenzied Mardi Gras. Time was when Lenten season is the country’s quietest of the year. But yes, times, they are a-changin!

Kwentong Barbero (Homing Pigeons)

At Manila JAC Liner terminal, I was seated in an 11am bus bound for Lucena to be in time for the 4pm Ro-Ro boat trip to Cawit port in Marinduque when my boss called and advised me to take the later trip. So I got off that coveted front seat and waited for the 12:15 bus arriving at 4:30pm, 30 minutes after the boat left. Deym! I was fidgeting a little bit regretting I changed buses and that I had to wait for the next boat trip, 5 hours hence! So I walked back to that barbershop I saw earlier and had a haircut, while listening to uniquely entertaining stories you can only hear in these places. And the topic? Homing pigeons….

The other guy seated next to me was a fisherman. He narrated that two days ago in the middle of the ocean, a pigeon force-landed and took a ride on his boat. He said the bird was starved and exhausted from flying. His barber said matter-of-factly that it was on a race and that, the bird was on its way back to where it came from. Pigeon races are common in the area, he continued. This was where I joined in the conversation, What’s a pigeon race?, I asked quizzically.

I was told that priced pigeons are bred and raised particularly for these races. Pigeons instinctively fly back to its loft (nest) when taken and let loose at another location. At first they are taken away at short distances and gradually taken further from the loft as the training progresses. The best ones are those that fly back fastest. That’s how they are trained and that’s why they are called homing pigeons. And what’s the race about? It’s price money to the owner of the fastest bird! Kids start betting at 20 pesos to a few hundreds, while adults place bets by the thousands!

I was fascinated by the story so I made a little research about pigeons. One story suggests that the bird has a built-in map in its brain. Its home loft is ingrained like a blip on a radar screen. And like a compass that points North all the time, the bird knows where its at anywhere relative to its home loft, so it flies in the direction of that blip only the bird can see. Amazing! But here’s more:

Pigeon poop was a highly prized fertilizer in the 16th, 17th and 18th century Europe. So prized in fact that armed guards were stationed at the entrances to dovecotes (pigeon houses) to stop thieves from stealing it! In the World Wars, the pigeon saved hundreds of thousands of human lives by carrying messages across enemy lines. Pigeons were carried on ships in convoys and in the event of a U-boat attack a messenger pigeon was released with details of the location of the sinking ship. In the same way, pilots carry pigeons and release the bird in case they had to ditch their planes. Pigeons are still used today by the French, Swiss, Israeli, Iraqi and Chinese Armies.

Even in sports and business and news, pigeons proved invaluable. In Roman times the pigeon was used to carry results of sporting events such as the Olympic Games and this is why white pigeons are released at the start of the Olympic Games today. Reuters, started its European business by using trained homing pigeons carrying the latest news and stock prices from Aachen in Germany to Brussels in Belgium. The birds traveled the 76 miles in a record-breaking two hours beating the railway by four hours!

Queen Elizabeth II, Elvis Presley, Mike Tyson, Gucci and Paul Newman are some famous people who keep homing pigeons to race. And this maybe incredulous but true: One racing pigeon recently sold for a staggering $132,517.00! The 3-year old bird was a champion racer beating 21,000 other pigeons in one long distance race!

Ahh, barbers, haircuts, Homing Pigeons. I like these barbershop conversations….

Reef Check

Reef Check is an organization that seeks to document the health conditions of the world’s coral reefs. Towards this end, the diving community regularly chips in to that data bank in Los Angeles, California.

What we do is simple enough: Three groups of divers (for fish, invertebrates and substrates) will write (in an underwater slate) what they see a meter on either side, up and below a transect line, which is usually 200-feet long. The data will then be analyzed after the dive by a group of marine biologists before sending it to California. Today, Tropical Island Adventures (TIA) and Coastal Dynamics Foundation (CDF) in Cebu will check a coral reef off the northern coast of Olango Island. I am one amongst 12 diver-volunteers with Underwater Naturalist PADI certifications for this dive.

My dive buddy was doing invertebrates (crabs, shrimps, etc.) while I record the fish. As he scrutinized cracks and crevices of a coral covered rock formation, he accidentally brushed his finger on a lionfish. The lionfish has a unique appearance. It moves slow and looks harmless. It has elaborate feather-like pectoral, caudal and anal fins that are lovely to look, but beware: they are full of poisonous stings! The moment my dive buddy was stung, he twisted and thrashed around in panic. I would have to hold him down from surfacing faster than is safe. When underwater, the dissolved nitrogen in blood form bubbles in your bloodstream during rapid decompression causing Nitrogen Narcosis, a condition leading to death. Hence, a foot a second should be the surfacing rate, and in certain cases, safety stop is required for a few minutes at a certain depth above your deepest dive. If you don’t, you will be sick. Sometimes you will be sick enough to warrant a trip to the decompression chamber, or the hospital, and in worst situations, a trip 6-feet under! In only a few minutes back at the dive boat, my dive buddy grimaced in pain. He was inhaling pure oxygen while his now reddish whole arm was bloated like a plastic balloon. The tip of his forefinger had a red dot on, that’s where the lion’s poison came through.

I had to come back for the second dive, now in charge with securing the transect line. The area has a modest undercurrent, which is not only good for drift dive, but more importantly, a good indication of a faster growing reef because of the nutrients it brought to the water around as the current stirs bottom and those brought from farther reefs. These nutrients draw in marine life starting with the microscopic to the visible and more popular reef inhabitants like tuna, rays and sharks. Substrates include huge table corals, gorgonian fans and barrel sponges, but a great majority are bleached corals, rocks and dynamited acroporas. However, within a few years of fishing ban (if established as a sanctuary) the reef will recover and the juvenile food fish can have a chance to grow big and spawn. That’s the objective of this dive: to educate fishermen, the community and local government that yes, the future is good, if we join hands now to conserve and protect what we have. If you’re a diver, join Reef Check, assemble your dive buddies and send data of your favorite dive spot to that data bank in California. Act now!

Lou Holtz

Lou Holtz is one of the most sought-after motivational speakers. He recently joined ESPN as its College Football analyst. He is a legendary football coach with uncompromising rules: Do what is right, do your best, and do to others what you want done to you. He is friends with Bob Hope Arnold Palmer and Bill Clinton. His strategies are as relevant in the football field as in life itself. He espouses the WIN philosophy or the What’s Important Now Life strategy. I’ve been nodding my head all along as I read though the pages of “Wins, Losses and Lessons” and I clearly remember, when I came to the closing part of Chapter 10 - I buried my head on the book and kissed that page!

I’ve read somewhere years ago that “some people come into our lives and quickly go. Others linger for a while then leave, but some stay, and leave footprints in our hearts and we are never quite the same.” He is the third kind, this guy Lou Holtz….

Black Nazarene

The Feast of the Black Nazarene is a celebration attended by thousands of devotees at Quiapo Church. Those who can’t stand the heat and traffic and a likely stampede, prefer to stay at home and watched the proceedings on their TV sets. For the first time, I experienced it first hand at Quiapo Church in an early evening mass. Though the devotees have mellowed since the frenzy happened during the daytime, I still felt the vibe. The people’s faith is so thick and palpable, you can almost touch it. There was one man who carried an image of the Black Nazarene close to his forehead the entire time. He was closing his eyes while silently murmuring a prayer. I thought his devotion was complete. I nodded and smiled at some of the devotees when it was time to “give each other peace”. I was wet with Holy Water when it rained on us. And when the final blessing was given, and the people erupted in jubilation, tirelessly clapping their hands, I thought that was the end of it. But the final blessing is yet to come.

People milled about on the street, which was closed for vehicular traffic for the occasion. I was eating street food and casually walked around with the others. Then it came, slowly, silently. I saw people throwing handkerchiefs, and shawls and shirts and had them rubbed on the image. Right in front of me was the Black Nazarene! In the daytime, it is almost impossible to touch it, and devotees would have to wrestle and shove their way just to get near it. But there it was, he came to me. I felt blessed, and honored, and that strange feeling of being chosen, as if The Black Nazartene was saying, Yes you, you’re the one!

17-Year Sleeper

They sleep for 17 years underground, come out one night in droves, shed their old skin then transform overnight and be noisy!!! They mate, the females lay eggs, and the next day they die, to fertilize the forest. That’s the life of the Cicada. And I was lucky to see and hear them buzzing in the summer of 2004, in Seoul, Korea. They will be back in 2021!!!         

Shirt

I bought a shirt for Dad on his birthday. It was one size bigger, which means my size, and which means, I really bought it for myself! I was hoping he would just be happy I gave a present and then hand it back to me for being too big. He didn’t. He brought it to his friend and had it adjusted, tailored-fit for him. It has become his favorite shirt ever since. Though proud he liked it, I was a little embarrassed for my selfishness. So, be careful with what you give, the recipient might like it!

Coincidence

I was randomly reading an article from an old Reader’s Digest issue from a stack on the shelf. It was about how things are done in the past, and that before we invented sugar, honey was used to sweeten food. Just in time, the waitress came with my Calamansi juice and a curious sweetener in a vial. It was honey! I remember this because a few days ago, in a mall, I was looking at wall clocks on display. A pipe-in instrumental music was playing pleasantly. I listened closely and realized it was, Somewhere In Time!

There are times like these when you are suddenly gripped by the moment, and you say “Ahh, what a cool coincidence!”

Clorets

I was buying menthol candies by the sidewalk. I gave 5 Pesos and took 5 candies as usual. “It’s Clorets, you can take one more sir”, the old lady said with a smile. I took that one more candy and thought, how generous and truthful can a person be. It felt like i have just been given an early Christmas present. It was.

Clean Slate

‘Be careful with what you wish for. It might come true.’

I did life changing stupidity. And for a time, I wished for a clean slate, not to correct the mistakes I made in the past, but to start life anew. And that is exactly what I am given now. Clean as a whistle. Nothing. Darkness. So where to start? And what lies ahed? Ah time to step into the sunlight…. 

Someone Is Looking Part II

I wrote about the missing post yesterday. It reappears today. Well, whatever the reason, it’s here. And I’m comin back to this blog I haven’t touched for about a year. Something new is coming - somethings current and forward looking.

Someone is Looking

The post below does not reflect the title above it. It was erased. It was about my trip to war museums in Vietnam, which gave me a Vietnamese perspective of the war as i saw it from the artifacts in the museums. I will not repost it. Just watch your favorite hollywood films again. This time, instead of broken G.I.s, replace them with images of suffering Vietnamese peasants, of innocent civilians crying in agony, of kids running naked with skins burning with Agent Orange and Napalm!  

"The American War"

The war museums in Hanoi showcase uncanny war remnants of fighter planes, and bombers, and tanks, and artillery. They also show different sets of images - a Vietnamese perspective of the Vietnam War, which they call the American War. It succinctly tells a harrowing story of a tiny nation’s fight for survival. It speaks of anguished cries, and torn limbs from small frames and chinky eyes; of carpet bombings and Napalm burnings on the civilian population. Then I came face to face with disfigured third and fourth generation Agent Orange victims in an orphanage. What a haunting sight! Like ghosts of a lost generation, they are breathing testaments to the atrocities of the past.

I have a stash of Vietnam in my drawer containing Born on the 4th of July, Platoon, Hamburger Hill, Saving Private Ryan, Deer Hunter and Full Metal Jacket. I watched these films cheering for my brothers, the G.I.s, menaced by Vietcongs in that hellhole -Vietnam.

It was all propaganda after all. Pure yarns making fallen heroes out of brainwashed troops. With one swoop all the prized DVDs flew off the window.

Mayon Volcano

I was ecstatic at the thought of seeing Mayon volcano in Legaspi City. I only see it on postcards - that now ubiquitous Cagsawa bell tower which I thought was a lighthouse. Unbeknownst to me, hidden beneath was a church buried by molten lava when the volcano erupted in 1814. Mayon is the most active volcano in the Philippines, having erupted over 47 times in the past 400 years. From the rice plains of Legazpi, it rises 2462m (8,077 ft) up in the sky. Like a sentinel, it lord’s over the landscape. I never imagined the town could be so close to it – it lies at the volcano’s foot! As you drive along or stand in the middle of the road, you will not see it all in. Looking at it is like watching a movie on a theater floor at the bottom edge of the movie screen. You need to move your head to see the whole image. If Mayon volcano erupts as in 1814, the people below will be instantly overrun and wiped out by the flowing lava. Armageddon will have come swift and unmerciful. At night, you look up and see a strange orange glow in the sky. It’s Mayon’s glowing peak, beautiful, enchanting, foreboding.

As we were driving towards Legaspi City, we could only see the volcano’s huge bluish base, the upper half being hidden behind the clouds. But as we neared the city center, wind blew and the clouds shifted like a gigantic curtain suddenly opening up. Shafts of sunlight danced to show Mayon’s volcanic peak until the whole perfect cone emerged from the haze. My mouth dropped. For a moment I stood in awe at this unexpected display of nature’s grandeur. Then the volcano disappeared again claimed by the shifting clouds. The show has ended as quickly as it had begun.

Hurricanes, Storms & Surfing

New Jersey                                                               Bermuda

New York                                                           Nova Scotia   

Hurricane Bill was brewing in the Atlantic Ocean. It struck the Caribbean seas before moving up north to hit the shores of northern United States and Canada. While the rest of the population cower in fear, surfers paddle out for the time of their lives. They are the only select individuals who literally rejoice in the coming of storms for the swell they caused and the waves they bring.

Almost at the time Hurricane Bill arrived on that part of the globe, tropical storm Jolina hit the northern part of the Philippines. It originated from the South China Sea then moved up north to the western part of northern Philippines. Local surfers in San Juan, La Union went bonkers with their boards and indulged in the heavy surf of Urbiztondo Beach. As always happens in times like these, there were good rides, serious paddling, and - broken boards! One of which happens to be mine! Craaaaack!

Banaue II

We have to bring the Anfra from Manila to Zamboanga which is going to be a 3-day road trip 24/7. That means it has to be in top condition. Where to go? - Banaue. No, not in Ifugao, but a street in Quezon City. We weren’t prepared for this but here it is: car accessories and repair shops line up this whole stretch of street. Minor repairs were done on the sidewalk. You will hear old upholstery ripped apart, dents were hammered out then polished with sandpaper and steel wool. Whirring sound of portable electric saws and planers fill the air. One by one a drove of mechanics came to us, inspecting the car like surgeons. The engine was already overhauled but it has no air conditioning so we came for a fan which ended up being installed on the dashboard. The old rubber lining of the windows was replaced with new ones. They suggested shiny new tire rims and mufflers and mudguards. How about a new car eh? They were in a frenzy making improvements on an old rickety wheels. Any car owner will feel like owning a Ferrari by the attention it gets. If nothing else, this was a good way to feel like royalty.

Pangan-an island

Going to Pangan-an island by boat is easy, but if boat rides make you dizzy, you can take a walk….

Pangan-an is an island-barangay that belongs to Lapu-Lapu City.  It is situated east of Mactan and right next to Olango.  It used to be a legendary fishing ground with fish stock abundant enough to feed China.  Fishermen from faraway places regarded the waters surrounding the island as a place in which to fish, and the island itself as the place on which to eat - kan-anan (dining area).  In time, kan-anan became Pangan-an and the name stuck, but the fish stock gone.

An old riddle asks, in the middle of the sea, what can you see? The letter “e” you say?  Wrong!  In the middle of the sea is - a waiting shed!  Yes indeed, a waiting shed stands proudly right in the middle of a channel that separates Olango Island from Pangan-an.  It is used by tricycle drivers waiting for riders, and vice versa.  Tricycles, in the sea?  That’s right.  At low tide, the area will be completely dewatered as if a hole underneath sucks the seabed dry.  This is not your typical sand bottom seabed, but an immense flat-coral-bedrock.  You can see the two-wheel mark that snakes across the channel and thins toward Pangan-an.  It is a visible nautical highway.  But who needs a ride, when you can walk?  You will see flocks of birds in v-formation against the backdrop of all imaginable cloud formations.  If you are lucky you will see a distant rainfall or a rainbow.  It is a walk you will not soon forget. 

Halfway through on our way back, water started to seep on our path.  As if having minds of their own, little headwaters crawled toward our feet.  The sea has awakened.  Within minutes, this vast expanse of flat rock was covered with sparkling ankle-high water.  At this time, the waiting shed was half-submerged and we were soon surrounded by waste-high seawater. It feels like Moses’ Red Sea crossing.  The walk was longer and tiring, but the open space and the ultimate freedom it brings was worth tiring for.  On the edges are coconut islets, protected from strong waves by walls of mangrove forests. 

It was late afternoon.  The clouds already started to pale on the horizon.  We met locals along the way, traveling the same path as we did.  I waved hello and was rewarded by shy smiles.  I figured, our ancestors from faraway places came here not necessarily on land bridges, but on foot, just like I did at low tide when seawater retreated to reveal that flat bottom bedrock….

River Trek

One of my favorite outdoor pastime is river trekking with my mountaineering group. Clad in cotton shirts, polyester shorts, all weather shoes, a wet proof daypack with some provisions and water in Nalgene (mountaineers are gung-ho about this container brand) we trooped to the Barangay Hall to inform the local authorities of our presence in the area. Since we wouldn’t want to go trekking in a flooded river, we check the latest weather bulletin and look up for any rain clouds.  If we got clear skies and sunshine, we are set and ready to go! For river trek aficionados, here are some hot tips: 

Watch your step

Have a leisurely pace, trek one step at a time. Stepping in between rocks instead of on them can be dangerous. One time I sandwiched my foot between two submerged rocks with a gap small enough to grip the bone in my ankle - this instantly shot pain to my brain! Take caution, what you don’t see can hurt you. When negotiating your way on rocks in the river, always get a secure foothold, more often than not they are slippery or loose. So don’t jump on rocks, chances are, you will slip and bang your head, or the rock tips, gets you off balance and you go splashing in the river.

Watch what you’re holding

Sometimes the water is deep or the current strong that you need to go up the banks or mountain passes and wade through bushes. When there’s a wayward branch on the path, hold it and look behind you before slowly releasing the branch. Don’t yank it. It will snap back at your face. And be careful with what you’re holding, it could be one of those thorny plants (touch-me-nots), or you could be mistaking a tree branch for a snake!

Give directions

When trekking in a group, the one who leads is called the assault, the one who stays last is called the sweeper and those in between are called pacers.  Feel like a pro by giving directions to those lagging behind: In diverging paths stack three rocks to mark the path taken.  If you have seen Blairwitch Project, you know what I mean, but do not stack rocks as high. It’s better to cross the river in pairs or more - It’s for balance and strength in withstanding the river’s rushing water. 

There. River trekking 101. See you in the rivers and streams of our dreams!

8th Wonder

The rice terraces look majestic but there is more to it than meets the eye. The concept of the terraces is simple enough: In order to grow, rice needs water, which the mountain slopes can not hold. But what was borne out of necessity has become something else - a terraced masterpiece, a baffling transformation, a phenomenal sight worthy of UNESCO’s world heritage list. Due to its sheer size, the rice terraces flood your vision. But it is as much a feast for the eyes as it is for the other senses. The vast space, the absolute quiet, and the wind softly brushing your skin almost bring you back to the dawn of civilization when our ancestors were carving those mountains. Come. Be there. Be awed. And let your spirit be lifted up the heavens.

Stairway to Heaven

There are as many rice terraces as there are little villages in the canyons of Ifugao. The world famous Banaue Rice Terraces is just one amongst many. It offers a stunning panorama you can view from a platform on a bluff surrounded by shops selling souvenirs. But the best way to go is visit Batad, one of the more famous and photogenic rice-terraces-villages. From the bus station, a tricycle will bring you in an hour on its foot. From there, a good one and a half hour trek on backcountry trail will bring you to Batad’s view deck, making those postcards come alive, and your adrenaline pumping for more. When I came, a shaft of light fell directly on one of the terraces squeezed beneath two slopes. It was long and narrow, and creeping up towards the mist and low clouds. It was mesmerizing, surreal, literally, a stairway to heaven.

Thousand-year-old walls

The massive 10-foot rock walls that hold the rice terraces together is the heart of the matter. No special mortar was used, just plain rocks, mud and hay, but strong enough to survive generations. Water from springs on mountaintops is channeled through irrigation canals beside slope fissures which are then brought to individual paddies by hollowed out bamboo poles - What struck me the most is its simplicity in such a grand setting, and the fact that it hasn’t changed for thousands of years.

The 8^th wonder experience has brought a fresh perspective of who I am. I suddenly became proud of my heritage, of who we are as a people, and of what we have contributed to the world. It is time to pay homage to what our ancestors have ingeniously created and which has given them immortality. I did already.

Bungee

I haven’t updated this blog for a long time. So, here’s something that will make your heart race and your adrenaline pumping for more!

The GX5-Reverse Bungee on the left, G-Max Swing on the right

If you haven’t tried bungee jumping, do it at Clarke Quay in Singapore City. There are two kinds, first is the catapult or GX5-Reverse Bungee. On a platform, we were strapped on our seats. One guy handled the controls. Smoke rose as we leaned back on the headrest then boom! We were catapulted up a hundred feet in midair. The harness was pressed on our bodies as we were jerked, twisted and turned. Our heads snapped and nodded back as the seats rotated downwards. Then the bungee cord pulled us down very fast as if we were going to get smashed on the ground. We shouted in delight but also of fear. The thrill of letting go is exhilarating. Up we go again while we struggled instinctively against gravity. We were slammed against empty air. My stomach felt like being sliced in two over and over again.

The other is the bungee swing called the G-Max. Now this one is the better ride, which means more challenging, all right, scarier. 5 people can enjoy it together. Imagine a gigantic swing – because that is exactly what you are going to get. From the bottom you will be pulled backwards by the machine on the highest point of the swing, slowly. Tik-tik-tik is all you hear. The city grows as you rise higher and higher into the cool night air while you hang facedown. You will see a good stretch of the Singapore river mirroring the mesmerizing lights of Clarke Quay. You feel the harness tightening around you as gravity tries to pull you downward. Your arms and legs dangle, longing for solid ground. The people below looked like ants and they are holding their breaths too. Then the green light is turned on. Somebody pressed the lever and you are released! The sudden falling sensation is so intense that your heart seems to rise to your mouth. Gravity takes control and you are swinging at 9.8meters per second. You try to breathe normally but can’t. Your muscles tighten and your heart race. You scream and hold on to the one beside you like your life depended upon it. Then you rise up again on the opposite side. You look down just when the swing peaks and reverses direction. Gravity pulls you backwards. And you let go. You close your eyes, feeling the wind on your face and butterflies flying in your stomach.

  Bungee at night

The anticipation of seeing that green light was scary. Couple that with the pressure of being the one to press the button, and you’re sweating ice. At the time, I was seated next to Ping who gripped my arm so tightly her handprint remained in my arm for days! 

Hammock

The photo above is not much to see but it has an interesting story to tell. Please take note of the pair of slippers below the hammock. 

It was midday. In the middle of the ferry ride in the middle of the sea, one fellow rigged a hammock in the middle of the ship’s view deck. He wrapped himself in and then, fell asleep. We were enjoying the scenery out in the open when the rain came. It started as a drizzle then to a full-fledged rain. We seek cover but the fellow stayed wrapped inside the now dripping hammock. We were huddled close to the ship’s overhanging upper deck, but our eyes were glued in that unmoving lump inside the hammock. Alerted by the admiring crowd, the fellow’s friend run to his rescue. He shook him silly and run back, but his friend didn’t wake up, so back he went again. This time he yanked the hammock, his friend fell on the floor, and they both ran towards us.

It feels like a homerun hearing the cheering crowd. Ah whatta show!

Surf Symbol?

I can’t help posting this pic. This is my friend Paul’s daughter. Mine is 2 months older. This was taken by Laris while working on her thesis. She asked us if we were to equate surfing to a thing (to symbolize surfing) what would it be and why. The why part was easy: Because it makes as happy and excited, takes our troubles away and such. But the symbols make the answers more exciting. My symbol is a baby (hence, the pic with the baby and my longboard in the background), Micky-boy says a clean environment, Anthony sighs and says that it’s like getting married, Lemon (looking out to the ocean) says that its more than a sport, it’s his lifestyle. Now take this: George Tisoy says - his cat (which just had its 3 kittens), this has brought the house down!

Champ

 There is no stopping now. I will be champion next year! 

Spanking New Board

This is my new 10-ft South Point Longboard I bought at Lemon’s Surf Shop in La Union - My ride to the championship next year! 

Surf’s Up in San Juan, La Union!

I’m surfing again - in La Union! Here, we were waiting for the last set (of waves) at sunset! Ahh, what a day! Next pic will be with my spanking long board!

Photo courtesy of jumpstop33 on Flicker.

Waiting Shed

Just when tide waters started to recede, we began our inter-island walk for about one and a half hours from Pangan-an to Olango, two exotic islands belonging to Lapu-lapu City, Philippines . Right before dusk, we reached this waiting shed in the middle of the ocean on a flat coral bedrock.

Submerged Walkway

This stunning photograph is the submerged walkway in the bird sanctuary area of Olango island in Cebu. These are a group of volunteers from different parts of the Philippines, Germany, Korea, Japan, the United States of America and France. For more info on how to join this program log on to www.winphil.wetpaint.com.

Coyote

We stepped out of the car and walked on the snow.  It crackled.  It was a very distinct sound, something I never heard before.  Snow was falling again.  I looked up and let snow fall on my face.  It was pleasantly cold on my skin.  I removed my gloves and opened my palms.  Snow crystals melted as quickly as they make contact.  They say no two snow crystals are alike.  And how many are there in each snowfall?  Remarkable!   As we were driving towards Grant Village on Lake Country, a coyote loped across a meadow.  We stopped, but not long enough to see him find and catch his dinner.  What could it be?  And what must he be thinking of us and our sudden intrusion into his peaceful world? 

Wildfire

At Madison junction I noticed new growth of lodgepole pines interspersed by the eerie charred remains of their predecessors that were consumed by the wildfires of 1988.  At the time, Armageddon has fallen, eating up more than half of Yellowstone.  There were over 25,000 firefighters and thousands of soldiers were called in to help the civilian crews.  Smoke columns from the park became visible as far as 500 miles away, and ash fell over 100 miles away. 

To emphasize the immensity of the ‘88 wildfires, Dan Sholly, Chief Ranger, of Yellowstone NP noted that - “All the land features – rivers, canyons, meadows – that usually stop a forest fire’s progress were proving to be worthless. This was a barbarian of a forest fire – ruthless and unpredictable.”  He continued in saying that - “Every single one of our predictions had turned out to be wrong, as well as those of five of the top fire-behavior specialists in the world.  The problem was that no one had ever seen fire behavior like this before.  The book on projecting wildfire was seemingly being re-written by Satan himself.” 

Volcanic

Fumarole                                                                      Mudpots

Hot Spring                                                                        Geyser

Fumaroles or steam vents are the hottest hydrothermal features in the Yellowstone. They have so little water that they all flash into steam before reaching the surface.  They hiss and emit vapors rich in sulfuric acid that breaks rocks, turning it down into clay to form mud pots.  Hot springs are the most common hydrothermal features.  Due to their natural plumbing, and circulation called convection, they are prevented from erupting.  Superheated water cools as it reaches the surface, then sinks, and is replaced by hotter water from below.  Geysers on the other hand are a type of geothermal feature that erupt scalding hot water. Old Faithful is the most famous and goes up to over 100 feet.  But it is hardly the most spectacular when compared with one like Steamboat Geyser, the world’s largest.  The rangers at the park said that when Steamboat erupts, it roars like a tornado for hours and throws up a boiling plume over 380 feet, expelling over a million gallons of water.  New Zealand and Iceland are known for geysers, but nowhere are there as many as in Yellowstone.

Grizzly

Back in the car, we turned east to Roosevelt Country to visit Tower Falls.  On the way to the lookout, we passed by a sign that says our safety was not guaranteed if we went on the trail.  It means that in Yellowstone’s backcountry, man is no longer number one, and that out there, are things a lot more powerful.  Our eyes suddenly became as alert as our feet because right here, grizzly bears wander when they’re hungry.  Its powerful jaws can crack bones and one swing of its paw can cause instant decapitation.   

Old Faithful

In the morning we got up early to our first amazing experience with Old Faithful geyser.  With an average of 92 minutes interval, we were in for the predicted 7:17am eruption that may last just over 2 minutes.  It was already a few minutes past 7 o’clock and people started to gather on the platform for the show to begin.  The walkways surrounding it as well as the benches were frosted, so it’s slippery and very cold.  Mist let out from our mouths as we exhale.  Then we heard the unmistakable gurgling sound underneath, and the steady rising of water from its vent.  Within seconds water shot a hundred feet vertically up.  Our gaze followed, and for a time nothing else mattered.  Nature does that to you.  

Bison

Up ahead on the road, we saw shaggy mounds of humps and horns.  They were a herd of bison that bedded down on our path.  I coasted to a stop in appreciation of this unexpected welcome party, but mainly because we couldn’t move any further.  Suddenly, the largest of the bison snorted and looked at out direction.  I swallowed hard.  Would he charge?  If he did, there was no way I could get the car turned around in time.  He easily weighed close to a ton and we will be trampled like frogs.  After a while, it seemed to me that they were bivouacked for the night so I decided to rev the engine and dart toward the glossy-eyed roadblocks.  In a flash, the herd sprang upright and stampeded ahead on the road.  For at least a hundred meters, they refused to yield to us until they plunged like small humpback whales into a ravine.

Spare Me Some Money, Dude?

Unpleasant encounters make an experience fuller and more meaningful. - I and the Filipinas I met working at the Ritz were riding inside the metro when a hulking vagrant dressed in rags hopped in from a station when it stopped.  I was seated near the door and on the aisle side.  Wafts of the most disgusting odor came with this guy.  I tried to avoid eye contact and held my breath hoping he will pass me by quickly.  But he stopped and leaned closer to look into my eyes while asking for money.  I almost vomited at his face.  The smell was so strong like a mixture of decaying organic matter of the grossiest kind, it almost knocked me unconscious.  I felt relieved when he moved on to the other passengers.  And on the next stop, he was out, but his filthy smell hang in the air like a nightmare.

Invalides

Invalides is a military museum chronicling WWI, WWII and the medieval wars especially that of Napoleon Bonaparte’s conquests.  There are many collections and memorabilia but the one I like best is the Medieval room which is devoted to the wars of the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries exhibiting armour and military weapons, and in particular a remarkable collection of swords.  The great emperor Napoleon Bonaparte has a tomb inside in what is called the Dome Church which has been converted into a military pantheon.  Surrounded by other great military leaders, the emperor is encased in successive 5 coffins, one made of tin, one of mahogany, two of lead and one of ebony.  And in 1989, the massive golden dome and its decorations directly above Napoleon’s sarcophagus were re-gilded using 12 kilograms of gold!  Remarkable!

Portuguese

Located north of Lisbon, shown above is Vasco Da Gama Bridge, the longest in Europe, and one of those monuments, institutions and a port city in Goa that immortalized this great Portuguese explorer Vasco Da Gama.

One day, four Portuguese came by the flat (in Paris) and stayed for 3 days.  I said I always wanted to visit Portugal because my grandpa had a Portuguese lineage, in fact he was 6’3’’ tall.  They said matter-of-factly, “But Portuguese people are not tall.  Look at us, shorties.…”  I would have wanted to argue that his Portuguese blood made grandpa tall, but decided against it. 

Georgia On My Mind

After 3 days of exhausting bilateral talks, we were back on the road to Paris.  I was again in the car with Phoung and Jeremy, and this time with my roommate Cyril from Togo, Africa and the only rose among the thorns – Shorena who is from the Republic of Georgia, an Eastern European country that requires no visa to enter.  And for a little bit of trivia, Shorena proudly said that Ray Charles’ hit song “Georgia On My Mind” does not refer to the American State of Georgia, but to her Republic Of Georgia in Europe.  We can’t help but sing “Georgia On My Mind” on the road back to Paris.  I was taken by the melody which made me do a little research and found out that this song was actually written by Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell in 1930.  And that in 1979, “Georgia On My Mind” became the official state song of Georgia in the United States.  That means, Ray Charles neither wrote nor composed the song.  Hmmm, Shorena….

Roadtrip

After two days of Pre-TM we had to leave Paris.  So with Oscar from Iceland, Phoung from Vietnam and French Jeremy who was behind the wheel, we headed south for an 8-hour road trip to Sete for the Alliance TM.   After cruising along the now familiar Parisian boulevards, we were in the outskirts of the city passing by open meadows and rolling green fields before we start ascending to the rugged mountains of the Massif Central region.  Snow covered the mountainsides and it was very cold.  These mountains are connected by viaducs.  Along the way, we have to cross the Viaduct Du Millau, the tallest bridge in the world, and we had to get out of the car for this rare photo opportunity.  So we parked it at the foot of a hill and proceeded to run towards the lookout for a fabulous sight of the whole bridge.  At this time, I left my beanie in the car which proved to be disastrous.  The wind blew and cold penetrated my ears giving me a splitting headache instantly.  We ran back towards the car and turned on the heater.  Man, I never knew cold until that time!  It was already passed 6 in the evening and we stopped at an intersection in the City of Toulouse that gave us a dilemma: The signs indicated that Sete and Barcelona are almost equidistant.  Sete meant the start of TM and Barcelona offered a night of partying.  Hmmm, tempting but no!  That night we hit Sete.

Sete, “the singular island” is traversed by many canals and is fondly called “Venice of Languedoc” and “Small Naples”.  It is situated at the foot of Mont St-Clair and on the south-eastern hub of the Bassin de Thau, an enclosed salt water lake.  To its other side lies the Mediterranean.  Sete is just an hour and a half away from the borders of Italy, Andorra and Spain.  It is very close to the more famous cities of Nice, Montpellier, Marseille and Cannes, and Monte Carlo in the Principality of Monaco.  When we arrived it was dinner time and the other participants were already munching on French cooking.  My colleagues in the car greeted friends as we moved towards the back.  Unbeknownst to us, we were seated in the long table with the freshly elected officers of Alliance.  I thought I knew very little of the people sitting there, but little did I know…..

I shook their hands except one who was seated farthest and on the opposite side of the table. He was obviously grinning at me.  I thought he was just being friendly.  I went over and shook his hand.  But he hugged me and said, “Jun how are you?”  I looked at him closely.  It was Roman, a German friend I met 5 years ago in Seoul, Korea.  At the time, he was a long-haired volunteer, but here, 5 years hence, he is the president of the biggest and most influential network in the workcamp movement, and clean-cut too.  I was so fired up meeting him again and we shook hands for the longest time.

Timeless

On the way to Lower Falls, we have to pass by Yellowstone River.  We stopped for a while and indulged in its soothing sound.  I found a rock for a stool and prepared to skip a few flat stones on the quiet eddies when a trout rose to nip an insect on the water, then it disappeared.  It was one of those times when you are totally lost in the moment.  As if woken from a dream, I suddenly become more aware of the sound of running waters.  Then I stood up.  It was time to go.

Yellowstone National Park

Yellowstone was born from volcanism and is still being shaped by its forces.  The heavy smell of sulfur permeated the air and hot steam was rising all over as we strolled on the wooden walkways snaking around the Upper Geyser Basin.  There were mudpots, fumaroles, geysers and spring pools.  This area is undoubtedly volcanic but we couldn’t find its most distinguishing geologic feature – the volcano.  Small wonder we didn’t see it.  WE WERE IN IT! 

This volcanic Goliath exploded one too many times that its magma chamber was emptied.  Magma is molten rock that collects in a magma chamber inside a volcano.  Lava is molten rock expelled by a volcano in an eruption.  Too much eruptions may empty the chamber, and the surface above to collapse to form a caldera.  Yellowstone’s immense 28×47-mile caldera (basin) was the result of the earth’s collapsing from losing so much lava in volcanic eruptions.  Scientists say that the park is due for another.  Suddenly, it came to mind that I was walking on a thin sheet of earth beneath a bubble of molten terror.  I walked lightly so as not to disturb its sleeping fury.

Napoleon Bonaparte Country

I just arrived from Paris via Abu Dhabi through Etihad Airline, the national flag carrier of the United Arab Emirates. Let me brag a bit, ehem…. As shown in the photo above, I was having a wonderful time with German Marie, French Caroline and Luba from Russia. In the background is what remains of the Bastille, the French infamous prison.  The French revolution was started with what is now called The Fall Of The Bastille. 

Anyway, I will be blogging a little bit more in another blog platform. I hope to see you there with more stories from France, especially Paris and Sete, a city near the Mediterranian coast.      

Tower of Terror

My Florida trip was a time to reconnect with old-buddies Reno and Rey.  But it was also a time to visit Disney Land!  And while the others fancy the “Honey I Shrunk The Audience” thriller, we trooped towards the Hollywood Tower Of Terror for a scary ride to “The Twilight Zone!”  

Dust and cobwebs abound in the lobby.  There was a huge chandelier, and life-size-Dracula-like portraits hang on the wall.  We were herded to a dark room with seats and armrests.  The door was shut and the show began with a very old movie clip of an old fellow, who teased us with “Welcome to the Twilight Zone!”  Then darkness.  The room rattled as it started to move forward.  Lighting struck and thunder roared as holograms of ghosts and goblins flashed before our path.  Demonic laughing echoed as the lights flickered.  Then we turned, and dropped suddenly!  It felt like my stomach was sliced in half!  The shouting started here, and giggling, and laughing, and scared delight.  Then we were pushed up the tower so fast it felt like my legs was left at the bottom, then gravity suddenly took over as if we would crash to the ground!  We were pushed up, and dropped, then turned, and up again, and dropped!  We were shouting like crazy and we came out laughing like there’s no tomorrow….

I think we were the noisiest little big men in that group because the others asked us, “Was it your first time?”  And to their amusement we replied with a big, “YEeeeS!”

Vietnam

Being a fastly developing country with a steady rise in tourism, I did not know Vietnam is a communist state until I saw the red sickle flapping in the wind beside the yellow star on red background flag.  In Ho Chi Minh, a city in the south, business is thriving and the people are freely going about their business.  But after a few days in the northern capital city of Hanoi, I began to notice the confining feeling of Vietnam’s communist rule.

At the revered massive mausoleum, the guards strictly enforce the one line policy of queuing to view Uncle Ho’s remains.  If you stray a few inches from the line, the guard sternly approaches; if you stab your hands in your pockets, the guards quizzically demand that you withdrew them.  Silence is the preferred language, and obedience, the ultimate virtue.  On the streets, policemen rule, no one dares challenge their authority; while in the bus, the conductor lords over, and herds passengers to nooks he fancies.  I happen to sit on a railing and got a slap on the butt.  I felt like a 3^rd grader scolded by a teacher.  At midnight, the streets are empty.  So, with silence and obedience being my guardian angels, I enjoyed my remaining days in Indochina.

In lake Hanoi which is located near the Old Quarter (a tourist haven for cheap souvenir items and artwork) I tasted the best street food I have ever eaten.  It was a kind of soup with fresh vegetables thrown in and it was prepared by an old lady whose kitchen consists of two buckets balanced by a bamboo pole.  One bucket contains the boiling pot with the portable burner, while the other has the plates, raw vegetables and meat.  She was so glad we liked her food that she gave us a discount – 10,000 Dong for three orders.  Each order costs 3,500 Dong, so we saved 500 Dong.  Ah, that was really something. 

We were leisurely walking towards the ubiquitous Red Bridge in hoan kiem when I was approached from behind by an old lady.  She handed me a flash disc.  I kept a similar disc in my little secret pocket located above the right front pocket of my Levi’s jeans.  The secret pocket was torn and I remembered placing the disc there.  Somehow it slipped unnoticed by me, but the old lady noticed it so she came over and gave it back.  I was taken by this kindness and I thanked her profusely.  She replied with a wide-betel-nut-reddish-grin….

Red River

A mighty river flowing from southwestern China, going all the way to northern Vietnam and emptying itself to the Gulf of Tonkin is the Red River.  The reddish-brown heavily silt-laden water gives the river its name.  The Red River is notorious for its violent floods with its seasonally wide volume fluctuations.  And today we are paying it a visit, particularly, towards a floating community along its banks in Hanoi.  

To get there, we have to walk on Long Bien Bridge, designed and constructed by Alexandre Gustave Eiffel at the turn of the 20^th century.  It was opened to traffic in 1902.  Of great strategic importance, it carried the only rail link between Hanoi and the main port of Hai Phong.  During the war for independence, it was bombed repeatedly by American fighter planes F-105 Thunderchiefs and F-4 Phantoms.  In order to halt the bombs, the bridge was repaired using American POWs.

Along the way, we saw people including very young children emerge from the hollow steel frames of the bridge.  We tried figuring out how were they able to crawl past narrow passages along the frames that snake across the bridge.  One missed foothold means plunging 40 feet down the cold waters below.  The bridge is 1,682 meters long and is part of Hanoi streets.  But due to age and wartime wounds, it is only used for train, pedestrians and bicycles, no vehicle is permitted. 

At the bottom were corn plantations, and footpaths that lead us to one arm of the Red River towards a community of floating houses.  These residents are too poor to pay the rent for a piece of land where to build their little shacks.  The floating houses need to be occasionally moved in preparation to rising waters, lest they sink at the bottom.  The friendly floating residents beckoned us for tea, which we willingly oblige. 

The residents’ source of water is the Red River which needs filtration before being boiled for drinking and cooking.  So today we are making a UNICEF-designed water filter to be donated to the floating residents.  Right across the river is an island formed by alluvial deposits used for growing vegetables and spices.  The yearly floods brought in the nutrients, so the farmers do not need fertilizers.  But more than half of the farmlands will be submerged when the rain comes.

We hopped on the island going towards the other side facing another arm of the Red River where it has a football field.  Interestingly in cold Hanoi, nude local footballers play here in the afternoons unmindful of the dark history surrounding the area.  On the right side of the floating houses were concrete columns rising thirty feet in the air which line the river bank all the way to Long Bien Bridge.  These sturdy pillars are mute witnesses to the atrocities of the past during the French colonization of the country where hundreds of Vietnamese POWs were said to be tied to the posts and shot here.

Back at one floating house, people gather to knit “revolutionary” acrylic sponges to be used as soap-less dish washers.  While they were engrossed with knitting, I noticed a soft but high pitched melodious humming coming from the next room.  It was a mother swinging a hammock and singing a lullaby to her little child. 

Enduring the rain and cold wind outside, the others clean sand while we were all warm and comfy making the water filter demonstration inside.  For this, we need two (2) pails, one big, the other small.  The small pail is to be placed facing the big one’s bottom.  Clean sand, carbon filter and hoses will be put in place later.  I was asked to remove the red pail’s white handle.  I obliged, and I was successful in jerking the handle loose, but broke the pail.  (There was muted laughter.)  Then I carved a hole on the bottom of another red pail using a heated red knife.  I did as told, but made a crack emanating from the hole.  I continued with the task, until the red handle separated from the blade.  (Laughter erupted!)  Too clumsy for the task, I left to clean sand instead….

Luneta Trivia!

Luneta is where the country’s national hero, Jose Rizal was shot by the Spanish authorities.  It is located near the historic fort Intramuros which was built by the Spaniards in the 16th century.  Intramuros literally means “within the walls”.  It is vibrant and full of history.  But most of the people have already forgotten its storied past.  In front of the guarded Rizal statue (referred to as kilometer zero), traffic snarls. Across Roxas Boulevard is the Quirino grandstand where most of the monstrous rallies and protest marches originate.  Beyond is Manila Bay with its legendary sunset.

People from different parts of the country and the world come to Luneta to rest and admire, and reminisce the great courage and struggles for the country’s independence against colonial domination.  People mill around, engrossed with themselves and with the many different mini parks within Luneta in the midst of a bustling Manila metropolis.  Not far from where we are is a group of animated strangers.  We came closer to investigate, hoping to take a piece of the action.  What we discovered came out to be a truly unique and fascinating experience.

We gathered in a circle, and in turns, each one asks a trivia question.  Whoever gets the correct answer gets a reward from the one who asked the question - a one-peso coin.  It is not much and it might be unintentional, but the coin has Jose Rizal in it.  You will not believe the kind of questions asked.  They range from ancient civilization to modern gadgetry, from sports to bird migration.

A street sweeper was able to answer a question about a computer terminology.  A carpenter knew about a vanishing tribe in South America.  And who knows Maun?  It is a quiet town that sits where the Okavango River Delta meet the Kalahari Desert.  I didn’t know that!  And who asked the trivia question?  A vendor selling candies and cigarettes who happened to be nearby.  Wow!

After a while, not content with just listening, I tried asking a trick question:  Who are the three presidents carved on Mount Rushmore?  But it came out too easy, all of them knew it, and it’s not three there were four: Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Theodore Roosevelt.  I felt like a novice!

Time flew.  We didn’t realize we were there for three hours already.  We had such a wonderful time in the company of total strangers.  But it seems that a strong bond of friendship was forged that night.  We said our goodbyes.  But I will be back again, armed with fascinating trivia….

Coincidence

This afternoon I was in a shop buying ink cartridges for my printer when I received a text message from my brother.  He excitedly told me that the Sequoia seeds already sprouted.  It almost sounded like a miracle considering that Giant Sequoias grow in the very cold Northern California.  But I was so impressed with the huge Sequoias I saw in the Avenue of the Giants, that I took my chances and brought the seeds here in warm Philippines.

On New Year’s Day, we placed the seeds in a mini greenhouse inside the refrigerator following instructions from the kit that goes with the seeds.  And that after 20 days, it should be removed and placed in a sunny area.  Refrigerating supposedly gives the impression of winter, and that sunshine after 20 days signals spring, which is the time for new growth and budding.  And that is exactly what happened! And we were thrilled!  However, there were 6 six seeds in the mini greenhouse, but only one sprouted?  A few minutes ago, my brother text again and he said that there is another sprout, and probably another in the morning.  This is truly fascinating!

But here’s more  - The shop where I bought the ink cartridges is called Great Sequoia Enterprise.  I was inside the shop when my brother text me about the sprouting Sequoia seeds. . . .

Vietnam

Tomorrow I am flying to Vietnam via Philippine Airlines.  But first I have to hop in for an early flight in Cebu Airport to Manila then on to Saigon, now Ho Chi Minh in southern Vietnam.  Finally a Pacific Airlines flight will take me north to Hanoi which means “the city on the bend of a river”.  I never knew such 5-letters could have an 8-word meaning.    

Wondrous Sight

As we were driving along the expressway by the side of one tributary of the Great Han River, I noticed several little houses like miniature communities in little valleys sandwiched beneath gentle slopes by the river. What a wondrous sight! That scene is forever etched in my memory.

Highway Lunch

By this time, I have perfected my Korean greeting and passed off many times as a Korean. I thought I got away with it till the lady was skeptical about the way I hold my chopsticks and asked my host. She smiled at me, and I said Oh shit! I thought I fooled her by keeping silent after the flawless annyung haseyo greeting and the respectful bow. The chopsticks gave me away. I returned her smile in surrender….

Clouds, Landscapes And The Rising Sun

The Philippine landscape I grew up with are coconut covered mountains, rice fields, open meadows and a river running through it.  Up above are cloud formations that changes every second.  Early mornings is when they are at its best and with the most bright colors.  Sometimes when you’re lucky, in the afternoon you see low lying clouds pierced by the sun’s rays, a spray of light coming out from thick cloud cover.  There are also those that lit the horizon especially at dusk.  They are usually spread out horizontally in thin skeins of bright red, orange and blue.  And just when the sun disappears, there is a brief moment of increased illumination before the sun finally sinks in the horizon. 

It is quite different further north of the equator.  On summer days, the sun stays until 9 o’clock in the evening.  It starts to drop at 6 o’clock, but somehow lingers in the same spot for a couple of hours.  So you have a lingering twilight that seems to have no end.  I noticed this while driving along the arid Arizona desert.  The glowing illumination and the strange cloud formations highlighted the canyons and turned the desert into a surreal lunar landscape.  In the arctic, the sun rises but never sets.  You will miss darkness. I wonder how it is in other parts of the globe….

Demak River

 
A community lived by the banks of Demak.  The locals use the river’s water for cleaning their dog, for washing clothes and dishes, and for washing themselves.  And also for brushing their teeth and for cooking food.  And take this: It is also the place to go when nature calls!  And you can see all these activities openly because Demak is just beside the highway, and for most parts, the water is brown.  I saw an old woman trying to clear the river with impurities by warding off floatsams before scooping water and pouring into a kettle.  For tea?  Yeah, maybe!  There were plastic cups, a coke bottle, shampoo sachets and old newspapers.  I see dragonflies, and flies, and a snake crawling past thick grass and duckweeds near the shallow ends.  And today we are supposed to clean this river, about thirty international volunteers and a company of the Indonesian Army among us.

I do not think words can give justice to the filthiness of this river.  While the others carefully pulled weeds by the banks, I slipped and fell over, and only my head bobbed about.  Surrounded by water lilies, flies buzzed around my head.  I swallowed ten right away and one was stuck in my throat.  I tried coughing it out, but it lingered at the tip of my tongue before I was able to spit it out.  Then something crawled inside my shorts, and I sensed movements underneath my feet.  I thrash about and tiptoed toward the shallows wary of any fanged creature lurking at the bottom. Moments later, another volunteer fell over, and another, and yet another, until half of us scoured weeds and trash in the shoulder high filthy waters.  Shouts and splashes and laughter echoed.  It turned out to be fun.  Yeah, dirty fun, literally….