Dreams

I am writing about a kid I first met years ago, who eventually grew up,  grew up taller than me in fact, and started charting his life.

He wanted to be many things, I recall. He had dreams, and he has lived them.

I am glad he does what he does.

But how I knew him was my personal knowledge of this once kid. Years after the first time I met him, he grew up, like I told you, revealing more than what he was years ago. What he does now is his greater introduction to the world. His past ceases to define him, because his present and future will, like how it should be for everyone.

When you click on the link below, he will show himself to you, his short film is a fruit of his labor.

In a Lilac Dream

Do enjoy!

And Merry Christmas!

The new year is coming, and it is time for me to dream again. You should too. 

How I miss writing

This screen was blank for fifteen minutes before the first letter was keyed in.

I do not know how this works anymore. It has been two years since the last post. I also noticed that the recurring theme of my last blog posts was my inability to write as often as I could. But I choose not to give it its death. No, not yet.

So, here I am. I write. I try.

While I do not know if anyone still reads this, I am not going to stop yet. This time, I shall write for myself.

I write this while Fado music, whose language I cannot completely understand, becomes a relaxing companion to this writing exercise. How come I just recently discovered this music?

Today was supposed to be uneventful. Today, a Sunday during summer in an almost empty Madrid, allowed me for the first time in a long time to hear myself the loudest. My solitude was beautiful. My friends were on vacation, and I chose the company of my shadow under the stirring heat of Spain. I saw one old woman passed out. I was not in a position to help, so I walked away, to the century-old movie house where I watched a movie along with nine other strangers.

I placed a bagful of bargain shirts and pants on the floor of theater no. 4. I shall try them all again when I get home, I reminded myself. Shopping is exciting, but the credit card charge is not. Hahaha. Well, I needed them. I made justifications for the purchase, as an afterthought. I had to.

The movie played. It was not Oscar nominee but a movie that took my mind off briefly from the world beyond the century-old movie house.

I went home, took a shower, had my supper, and held on to my dear mobile phone for hours until the call of blogging beckoned me.

Random Photo. Taken in Indonesia years ago.

Once a teacher,

I suddenly became excited at the prospect that my blog, well, at least a post from this blog, will be read by grade five pupils. The Reading  textbook "English Encounters" co-authored by Ivory Sioson was recently released, where a 2013 blog post I had written appears.

I am grateful that the author chose it to be part of the book. It gives me joy and pride, at the same time. In short, I am happy. haha.

I did doubt my capability to come up with a schoolbook-worthy article. You see, I cannot claim I am an expert in the English language, when I spot and make mistakes in my work, and utterances all the time. Every time I get the chance to reread my old posts, I see an error. My hurried style allows errors to be made, and I leave it at that most of the time. So, when Ms Sioson, the author, asked me if I could allow her to use a post in my blog for her book, not only did I willingly say yes, but I also gave her the permission to change the post when necessary. I had known her and her sister, and I was sure she would do an amazing job. 

What I am most excited about is the thought that it could teach the users of the book something. I guess the teacher in me has never left.  Like many teachers out there, the desire to impart knowledge or skill is still very much out there. 

As I am thousand of miles away, I was only shown a photo of the page where my name appears. I was suddenly reminded of that rainy day that inspired me to preserve the goodness of that now faceless lady whom I sat beside with in the FX, for posterity. To read the post, click here. 

The author of the book sent me this.

From Ms Sioson's Facebook account

I have asked my sister back home to get a copy of the book. You might want to consider getting one, too. 

The capital city, the seat of everything

I write this post with the Spanish-language song "La Bicicleta" by Carlos Vives and Shakira continuously playing on my speakers, and it will be on loop until this blog post is 'published.'

I have made it to Madrid, Spain, as my new assignment after over two years in Nigeria, and what great luck I have to be in this beautiful country, particularly in this spectacular Spanish capital city.

I had known all along that I would end up in Madrid after my stint in Abuja, Nigeria. It was what I would call the deal I made for accepting, actually volunteering, for the West African Post. I had no regrets that I had taken that more difficult route to get to my dream European post now. In fact, I would call my Nigeria experience a blessing, even more that what I could ask for.

Nigeria was not easy, mind you, but it enabled me to be the person I desired to be.

I would always take pride in the fact that I spent more than two glorious years in Nigeria, despite the terror group Boko Haram problems in the north, the occasional bombings in the capital and Ebola virus disease that reached the southern city of Lagos. The  fuel problems, corruption, the hours-long power outages and the threat to Malaria were all there too, but I would credit my Philippine upbringing for helping me cope better than my European and American counterparts did. They complained a lot! Nigeria, like the Philippines, is a developing country, and is not without challenges. I guess, for some people who are accustomed to comfort and first-world living, they would always think that these will always be available to them. Well, not all the time.

Some party guests at my house

The difficult conditions brought out the best in people. There was always the threat of insecurity in Abuja, but this did not stop the party-loving expatriate community to have fun in their residences, gated villages and poolside venues. I was lucky to be in the company of some of the most amiable Latinos I have met in my life, and was taken in as an honorary cousin of sorts. I recall with fondness the countless parties and dinners I had with them. Soon enough, my circle of friends grew to include Americans, Nigerians, Israelis, Greeks and countless others. I once had a birthday party with over 40 people of different colors squeezed inside my small flat, dancing and drinking the night away. I passed out that night, failing to properly see my equally happy guests off.

Nigeria amplified my resilience, a trait known and visible to many Nigerians, along with their deep sense of faith. I rarely complain now. hehe. I have nothing but gratitude. Who would not be grateful for all those character-building experiences.

I would always look back at my Nigerian experience as I write my Spanish history. Eight months into my post, I have yet to make wonderful friends like I did in Nigeria. Abuja, for all its greatness and weaknesses, bonded me with a wonderful set of people I had the honor of knowing. I remember the names Pedro, Susan, Nadav, Cynthia, Miguel, Francia, Angie, Jorge and many others whose friendship and warmth I will always celebrate. I know it takes an effort on my part to establish friendships, as well. Friendship does not just happen instantaneously, for it needs nurturing and time. For now, I shall wait patiently. The first few months have been great for me in Madrid. There is without a doubt that my future here will be as bright.

In other capital cities of the world are my other friends who unceasingly provide me support and keep me sane. In more ways than one, we comforted each other because we knew the challenges of life away from home. For this, too, I am grateful.

Meanwhile, as an admirer of anything beautiful, I take the chance to explore Madrid and beyond.

Here are some photos of Toledo, some 25 minutes away from Madrid by the speed train,

The Alcazar

Toledo

Inside the AVE train, Spain's high-speed train

The rail station. 

One public transportation off my list after taking quite a number of trains in Spain. 

Reactivating?

It has been months or years even, since the last post, and not so many posts for the previous years at that. Initially, it was a conscious effort to stay away from blogging and find my own rhythm in Commuter's then new place before he could  take on the task of blogging again. As some of you may recall, he was living in Nigeria for work . The work brought him to places and adventures he had never dreamed of experiencing; in short, he had loads of materials to write about. However, he cannot seem to put them all in writing. He tried Instagram, too. That did not make him a prolific IG user neither.

Commuter is sure, though, that he missed blogging. The kind of writing he was doing at work was not the creative kind, nor liberating.

Also, Commuter attributes his lack of post to the fact that he was not commuting. You see, Commuter had a car and driver in Nigeria.  He sold the car before his transfer to Spain. Yes, that country. And and that country, he takes public transport, and is happy.

This is the view from my dining area where I write this post. With that view, I am, no doubt, inspired. 

Commuter hopes to have you tag along him in his new adventures in Spain. Ole!

Of Ebola and friendship

Commuter's work has entitled him to certain benefits that he enjoys. One of them is vacation! Commuter plans to go to the land of milk and honey, that is if he gets his precious visa approved. While the visa is no where yet in sight, he dreams of going to places, visiting friends, taking a picture of  'HOLLYWOOD' and other things that a poor lad could ever dream of.

Should good fortune be on his stars, he will travel in November. He will meet friends and get his passport stamped. Or will he?

Then, few weeks before his contemplated travel, he receives a Facebook message from his supposed host in Florida. It reads:

Dear Commuter, Let me start by saying, Please do not take offense to what I am about to say. This is not a personal attack to you. I know I've offered you my home for you to stay when you visit, however I can no longer make that offer because you are flying in from Nigeria, which is a very high risk country for Ebola. As you may already be aware, we have cases of it here in the US. I have a two year old at home and I am only looking out for the welfare of my family. I hope you understand. You know I love you and would love to make the best of your stay here. I really apologize.

There. The meeting of friends ends before it could even start. He could not believe what he had read. Suddenly, blood went up his head, but he tried to understand the situation.

Immediately he responds:

Dear host, I am not offended by what you had to say. In fact it is understandable. I work at the embassy where we get similar concerns. However, I cannot deny the fact that I am disappointed. As a result, I will have to cancel my planned visit to Miami. I will go elsewhere where I am welcome. Just for the information of all, Ebola in Nigeria has been contained, and I have never set foot in any of the West African countries worst-affected by the outbreak.

What he should have said was, "You are a dear friend. I will never harm you or your family. Your health, safety and peace of mind are more important than my personal happiness. "

Then he will try to assess his future travel plans.

With sadness, he reflects on the situation. Ebola has done damage beyond the  5000 lives it already claimed. It has already caused some major damage to the living, and will continue more so even beyond one's death.

For now, he prays for his health and friends. If he experiences difficulties in a country where Ebola is believed to have been contained, he could only only imagine what goes in Liberia, Sierra Leone, Guinea, Spain and the US where his friend resides. "I hope it doesn't spread elsewhere," Commuter says.

Perhaps, sticking with Nigeria and the Philippines for tourism would be the best option for now. And besides, he has visa for Nigeria already. 

First Post of the Year in my first posting

A little over three months.

That is the length of my stay in Nigeria as of  this writing. If I did not make a conscious effort of counting, I would not have known I had been here that long. Time flies by really fast.

A lot has happened.

I have had an acid fly (Nairobi fly, electric fly) land on my nape only to be killed, causing it to release some potent acid strong enough to burn my skin. I have survived this. Look at the pictures; they are not necessarily in correct order.

There are other health problems I had, due to either neglect or just plain bad luck, but I'd rather not discuss it here, because I sense it is going to be a recurring problem. Sad it is, but there is always the pharmacy.

But there are more reasons for celebration.

It took me many weeks before I finally got to have a place of my own. It is exciting to furnish a house; it sure is expensive, too. But I tell myself that privacy is an expensive price to pay, and,  not to forget, one's happiness, as well.

Embassy people went to my place for the housewarming. Well, my spaghetti was not a success; I ended up throwing some of it after its long tenure inside my fridge. Nevertheless, I was able to show them my new crib! I could not contain my excitement during the first few days of my stay in my own place. I was to eager to spend all my money in furnishing the whole place, and I did spend all my money, and still I could not completely do my home. I realize that with what I am earning, it might take years before I could fully complete everything I need; when that time comes, I would probably be moving to some place else where the cycle would once again start.

I will keep this post short for now, but this does not mean I have  nothing else to write. I have tons; it is just that I have to find time.

Food brought in by my colleagues from the Embassy

Zuma Rock, one of Nigeria's more famous attractions.

Something new

I am writing this Post in Nigeria, my home for the next few years. I have been here close to a month now, and I must say I welcome anything new. It is exciting to be in this part of the world. It has its challenges, though. But like the adventurous person that I claim to be, I shall make my stay here memorable. I now work at the Philippine Embassy in Nigeria, you see, and the work here has slightly changed how things are compared to what I did back home. For one, I rarely commute. I walk to my office from my present accommodation, and I have a driver. Yes, Commuter now has a driver at his beck and call. hehe. Having a driver and commuting less have a direct effect on this blog. I am contemplating on changing the theme; I am not sure yet. I am still adjusting to work at the Embassy, and I will give more time to blogging once I have adjusted well.

Also, between last post and this one, I turned 30. I have to admit that there were things in my Life Plan  which I expressed in the blog and that I was not able to meet. As simple as taking the train in Manila, I was not able to do. Another is I was not able to get myself a car. Nevertheless, I do not take them, particularly the latter, as failure. There were reasons, of course --- practicality, my departure for Nigeria, and ever-changing priorities.  

I am embracing the decision I made to go to this part of the world. In fact, I am happy I made the decision. My moving to Nigeria will surely be an adventure, and I hope you will still be there as I make them, whether I am on a camel or with mosquitoes buzzing my ear. 

Zamboanga Crisis

Day 17 of the Zamboanga Crisis, I went home to Zamboanga. I could have gone earlier to check my folks, but flights were all cancelled. When the Aviation Authority finally ok'd the resumption of flights, I made it a point to catch one home the soonest.

There aren't any Krispy Kreme nor JCO Donuts in Zamboanga

Zamboanga Airport

Airport Security

The media had their field day every day. This is the Solar News Team getting ready to beam live from Zamboanga

I thought that living in Mindanao had prepared me for wars, but I was wrong. When I set foot on the airport, I already sensed the mood that was devoid of festive chatter and noise that usually come with every arrival. My folks could not bring their car to the airport parking unlike before, and I had to walk some few meters out of the airport complex just to meet them. Suddenly, no well-wishers and pushy tricycle and taxi drivers asking the passengers if they needed a ride; men in military fatigue seemed to outnumber the arriving passengers in the airport.

My mom and aunt accompanied my dad to pick me up. They did not have work; school and work had been cancelled for days then. We talked of nothing but the crisis. When we got home, the local tv was on broadcasting images of my city's sorry state. The footage showed the dismal condition at the sport complex housing the 100,000 plus evacuees. Huge smoke coming from the conflict area indicated that families were losing their house.

Rush hour in Zamboanga Downtown

UV Vehicles calling out passengers to depart before the curfew

I went to the downtown, the name we give to the city's center. My parents advised me to bring with me an ID in case I am asked. Shops were closed and streets were almost deserted. I tried taking pictures, but stopped after taking three. I did not want to be interrogated for the photos I was taking. During those times, everybody was cautious. A face, any face, could be suspected of gathering intelligence for the other side. I hid my phone and went back home to make it before the 8 pm curfew imposed on everyone. After 8, no one is supposed to be out unless one thinks that a night at the police precinct is like checking in a luxury hotel.

Common sight in Zamboanga

The curfew made Zamboanga a sleepy town with sporadic gunshots and bombs being detonated elsewhere. Business was heavily affected. The prostitutes were not spared. At 2pm on my way back to the hotel, I heard girls in sleeveless  shirts shouting at me from the second and third floor windows of a massage parlor, "Pogi! Pogi! (Handsome!)" There must have been six girls calling my attention.

Camins Street in Zamboanga used to be one of the busiest streets in the city. Checkpoints abound vigilantly checking on each vehicle

I thought I was prepared for war; no one is really prepared. I went back to Manila after three days of seeing how that crisis would change my beloved city forever. I arrived in Manila on the 28th of September, the day when the Government announced that the crisis was over. It is never over, really.

Flight to Manila

OFW'ed

Since I do not have a car, and there is no one to pick me up from the airport after an official trip abroad, the logical choice was to take the cab. Lucky for me that I live near the airport because had my residence been far, I would have scrimped and took the jeep instead. Airport cabs in Manila are twice and even more expensive than the regular ones. It was late at night, you see, and all I ever wanted was the comfort of my bed as soon as possible, after staying out of it for days!

I revealed my destination; the taxi dispatcher wrote it down and radio'ed someone. Few minutes later, a yellow taxi pulled up in front me. The driver was overly friendly and hinted that a tip in a foreign currency would make his day. I have not met a driver as enthusiastic as him in my several years of commuting, and then I analyzed his behavior. The only possible reason I could think of was that he must have mistaken me for a returning OFW. I was not offended; in fact, there probably were reasons for him to believe so. I had a huge luggage; I came out of the terminal 1 airport with many returning Filipinos; I dressed casually unlike my colleagues who wore their business jackets. However, I was not the jewelry-wearing kind which I attribute to some seafarers and OFWs that I know.

I managed to inject that I was government employee, from the DFA,  returning home after a meeting abroad. After my revelation, I must have blown his bubble because he no longer pushed for the dollars that I was not earning. He changed the topic and started asking me about passport processes, and I answered briefly for I was nearing my place. 

The trip left a sad taste in the mouth as I got off. I gave him forty pesos extra as consolation, so he would not feel so bad that he got a peso-earning passenger. I wonder if his previous passengers felt the same as I did. What I felt should not be experienced by anyone; that was not a nice welcome, and certainly not a nice first-hour experience in one's native land. That all OFWs are rich seems to be the perception of many. This kind of thinking should stop. Can't people just wait to be tipped? What I know and what everyone in the service sector should know is that tipping is for exemplary service rendered. 

In hindsight, I told myself that the driver got me home safely, and that was what the forty pesos was for. 

As for the events that happened before that taxi ride, I was in Brunei attending a meeting. Technically, I was working there, hence I can be called an overseas Filipino worker, but not the dollar-earning type. The work is not worthy of discussion in this blog. The things I did after the meeting is worth mentioning, however. We were able to squeeze some picture-taking activities and  a little sightseeing on our last day before we departed for Manila.

That is the Brunei Airport which was still being renovated. The country is preparing to host Leaders from East Asia Summit.

I heard that car to people is 1:5.

Jollibee lords supreme in Brunei. There are more Jollibee stores than Mcdonald's in Brunei.

Mall

This Times Square will do, although Times Square NY is also something to look forward to.

Brunei Street

The captain of our ship. We cruised in Kampong Ayer, Brunei's famous water village.

Houses on stilts like in my hometown.

Their water village is very organized.

Our boat

Beautiful and organized structures at Kampong Ayer

Mosque with gold domes

This comfort called FX

With the implementation of the Integrated Bus Terminal Project at the Coastal Mall for southern provincial-bound passengers, many of my colleagues at work take the van/fx at the Mall of Asia. The new system prohibits provincial buses from entering the city and has designated a terminal to load and unload provincial passengers. This has caused problems for and complaints from both provincial passengers and bus operators. The passengers complain that they have to take multiple rides to reach their destination. The bus operators don't quite like the strict policy of dispatch, giving them only five minutes to load passengers. In fact, bus drivers staged a protest yesterday leaving commuters stranded for the most part of the morning.  On one hand, the good news, in my view, is that there are fewer buses on the streets of Manila, no more crowding at Roxas Boulevard corner EDSA. The AUVs and vans are, of course, exempt and thus enjoy the freedom to ply the city from any point of Luzon. Like me, most would rather take one straight journey (and it can be cheaper, too) than hop on and hop off several vehicles even though buses are slightly more comfortable than the vans/fx.

At the Integrated Bus Terminal at the Coastal Mall in Paranaque

While I acknowledge that taking buses is more comfortable than taking the FX, my choice is still the latter. I still take it knowing that my knees will touch someone else's when I face that someone, or that I will have to settle for a small share of the seat. But complain I shall not do.

Yet,  I have to understand the "in-out, in-out" dynamics in public utility vehicles, particularly in FX. I find this an interesting topic to observe as it covers gender, age, and physical factors.

Just what dictates who gets to take a full space in a room full of passengers in the FX?

More than two decades of commuting could not give a me a definite answer to my questions. I do have observations, however. More than anything, I think it's one's comfort that makes a passenger claim his/her well-deserved butt space. It is with this thought that I look forward to having slender girls as my co-passengers in the FX. Usually the person who is last to enter has the unfortunate distinction of being 'out.' More women than men tend to go 'out' without being forced to do so; men are likely to squeeze their seatmates while women don't want to be squeezed. I suppose, at times, there is powerplay in the game; the passengers who have their right share of space assert themselves, knowing perfectly well that only three and a half people could comfortably sit in the car. The 'half' passenger must know his or her place. Young ones with their headsets on are likely to ignore everyone else and be oblivious to the rest as long they are seated properly and enjoying their music. Although I see people ask that they be let out if they cannot sit properly, most still go on with their journey uncomplaining. Those who try to make a big fuss would get comments such as, "Mag-taxi ka na lang (Take a cab)" or "Bumili ka ng sarili mong sasakyan (Go buy your own car)."

Those Asian Utility Vehicles can accommodate four  passengers in the backseat regardless of the shape and size of the passengers. THEY MUST ALL FIT. Through the years, I have seen different models of cars, not exactly AUVs that are made to be "FXs." There are now vans that are being used. AUV Express as it is known has been gaining popularity among the riding public. The FXs, Revos, HiAces provide some comfort, airconditioning, and terminal to terminal service to the growing middle class who do not wish to take the jeeps, ordinary buses or multiple trips. The FX riding public has developed patience, understanding, apathy and selfishness all at the same time. Who is to blame? Conditions, presented to them day in day out, make them the way they are. 

Does this mean that car-owning individuals are a different breed of their own?

I am not so sure about that, although one thing I am sure of is that we all take the same road. It is how we deal on the road that spells the difference, whether you are in a car, taxi, bus or FX. 

Random picture on the plane. Unrelated photo.

Remiss, revisit, retell and reflections

So I have been remiss in a lot of things, such as blogging and even failing to greet friends on their birthdays. One dear friend said she did not expect that I would miss her birthday after greeting her the day after.

Yes so much has been going on that I have no blog post for the previous month; last month should have been a great source of posts because a lot happened. But, no, I did not write any.

It has very been very busy. But I was thinking of topics to write.

First in my list is this:

I plan to take the train by October. I have no idea where I am going, but I'll definitely be riding on one.

You see, before the year ends, I will be going somewhere, a different continent, for a long time. Taking the train in the Philippines is certainly in Commuter's must-do list. 

I hope to be able to write something on this train ride I will be taking.

Another post worthy of its own post but I am not doing one is my Sagada trip with my good friends. It was a well-deserved break, a total contrast from the life in the city. It has been weeks since that trip but I am still raving about it. Enduring the 13-hour ride to Sagada and back was nothing compared to the experience of the culture, nature, the people and weather of the Mountain Province, a northern Philippine province, that we were able to enjoy for two whole days.

At the Pasay Terminal of Victory Liner. Baguio bound.

Mountains upon mountains welcome you as you make your way to Sagada. Truly breathtaking.

Rice terraces abound.

The Big Falls in Sagada. It was a long trek but worth every step.

Market day in Sagada

American influence, not Spanish, is evident in Sagada. There are very few Catholics in this predominant Anglican society that still honors the indigenous traditions of Sagada's ancestors.

Traditional burial site

Cave formations

A day-long wedding celebration that I was very fortunate to gatecrash. Native dances and instruments provided entertainment to the guests of the bride and groom. For me, this was one genuine cultural experience.

Good things must come to an end; hence, a trip back to Baguio must be made before heading toManila.

The randomness of this post is similar to my "Northern Exposure" adventure I had. I was with adventurous and sometimes 'random' people that made the trip more enjoyable and memorable.

Baguio became part of the itinerary because Manila-bound buses were scarce, and we had to wait until the evening to get our ride. In the process I got to see a bit of Baguio. This was a place I enjoyed going to when I was younger, and up to now. Call it stupid but foggy places such as Baguio bring me joy. Just imagine how happy I was when the city was (nearing) one-digit visibility.

Fog in Baguio

I did pray for a safe travel back to Manila, knowing quite well a typhoon was wreaking havoc in some places in Luzon and Visayas at that very moment. My prayer must have been heard because nothing untoward happened on our descent to Manila. The days after that however became witness to the might of "Maring" that left Manila and large parts of Luzon underwater.

Sunday night, August 18, I was out from church when the rain started to show signs that it was not stopping. I spent the next two days at home as work was called off, and there was just absolutely nowhere to go with the unceasing rain.

Dark clouds in the horizon. Taken from my window.

Sister approaching the building. She had our food with her so it was important that I meet her at the ground floor. hehe.

The reports of the typhoon showed the catastrophe brought by typhoons, clogged drainage and human irresponsibility. On Wednesday, a holiday, I simply had to go out for I missed the outdoors terribly. On the main road, I saw for myself the post-typhoon scenario: shops were still closed; garbage, silt, mud were everywhere; children were playing in the puddles. I hopped on a jeep and, to my surprise, initiated a talk with the driver. He was not able to work for two days, the driver said. I sat patiently and quietly as he waited for more passengers to ride his jeep.