the sound of silence

My soul is tormented without having to hear something.
For goodness sake speak up or a least utter a word or something.
A mumble would be better than nothing.
I can not stand the sound of your deafening silence...
Its killing me after torturing my being.
Speak up be heard lest I get immune and be
cold as silence.

im gettin there

Writing for me is like a mental exercise. It is like im downloading all the rubbish I have in my sub-concious mind to put it somewhere else. I find satisfaction whenever I read my blog. The reason why I am happy reading it is that I find it like a game.

It is like a game where I have to spot my opponent and kill him once I find him. I am not really much of a writer but just an ordinary hobbyist of writing i must admit. Grammatical and typo errors abound. Everyday I try to spot it and almost everyday no matter how many times I read my blog I always catch one, two or several editing job for me. They are my opponents my enemies that I need to down.

Hey don't ever think I am some kind of a lunatic. Maybe I am . Writing for me is an expression just simply put it that way. I get the thrill of knowing that somewhere, somehow, somebody is getting a piece of my mind. I get flattered when my friends says they read my blog, and they like it. It is like an achievement a feeling of natural high comes with that thought.

However even if I am happy with my writing, everytime I re-read my blog entries, I know there is something lacking. Right now I have figured it out. My unhappiness probably is a result of feelings of restraint and inadequacy. I do not exactly know the reasons why I am avoiding some theme that I would like to write. Perhaps, the words is just hiding at the back of my mind or simply I do not want to write it yet because it is not yet the time.

Yes, I am writing and will continue to write, this is a practice for me. Until the time I am ready to write the secret thoughts that lingers in my mind. I am getting there somehow, little by little im getting there.

Migrants smile

In all the major cities I have been to I kept noticing poignant smiles of Filipino. New York, London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Hongkong and almost everywhere you could find Filipinos the raison d'etre is to escape poverty in the country. I am just wondering about the perflexing smile though. As regards to the smile of Filipino migrant workers it is sincere but there is a hidden sense of bitterness. I was expecting a sort of victorious and vivacious smile for someone who had escaped the fangs of hunger and lack of sheer material wealth. But their smile is an evidence to the contrary. It is not a smile of total fulfillment.

Their smile is a concealment of a worse condition than poverty. The misery of not being loved, wanted and cared for. The misery of being away from what you call your own.

Dare speak the truth: James Balao

(I received an email today forwarded by Migrant groups in Europe about the disappearance again of another political activist. His name is James Balao a community organizer and member of the Cordillera Peoples Alliance (http://www.cpaphils.org/) I wrote emails to friends to disseminate the information as a way of helping and supporting him and his family. The kidnapping is allegedly perpetrated by the elements of the Intelligence Agents of the Armed Forced of the Philippines (AFP). I wrote this lengthy blog for him and to the countless others who disappeared and got killed)

The Philippines is rich in natural resources. It has fertile, arable lands, diverse flora and fauna, extensive coastlines, and rich mineral deposits. England on one hand is a country rich only in coal (powerful uling), all the rest of their resources are insignificant. Having said that, if the natural resources of the Philippines will be used exclusively by its people, pound for pound, kilo by kilo Filipinos will be one of the richest people in the world. But it is perplexing to reckon that we are one of the poorest economies in the world. That is accurate not only by the measure of the GDP and GNP of our economy, but also by the collective sentiments of our fellow countrymen “kababayans”. So, what am I driving at?

Simple! I am confused and am short of getting really angry knowing that despite of our rich natural resources we are the world’s poorest of the poor. While my adoptive country, England who does not have anything except coals which actually at present have been depleted already is living in abundance. They do not even have spices before that grow here. That is why they have to go to the Far East to trade and to barter whatever produce they have for the spice. Yes, I am talking about the spice trade here my dear. Truth is the only spice that came from England are the Spice Girls.

England conquered and stole almost one third of the world’s resources. India is a good example. England and its distant cousin Spain, Portugal and France plundered the whole world, during the colonialist era. Followed by the emerging powers like Japan, US and Germany. History has not been very good to the people of Africa, South America and Asia. In particular I must say history has been very cruel to the Filipinos.

After the smokes of colonialism cleared up during the World War II. Filipinos had never tasted comfort of our own, except for the very few elite, who took turns in governing vis-à-vis plundering our country.

As far as I can remember since I was a child, most of my playmates have their daddy working in Saudi as a contract worker, digging oils in the dessert or their moms working in Italy as domestic helpers. Almost everyone in the neighborhood have relatives in America, pursuing their American dream.

When l grew up not only my playmates moms, dads, cousins and relatives are going. Ultimately my playments who by then become adults are going abroad as well to look for greener pastures, so to speak. The promise land in the west, where they say it is filled with milk and honey. Even for my adventurous playmates life was still a bit of a mystery. For one even Moses was not able to enter the promise land. Well good thing there is an alternative to the american dream. There is Japan for those who failed get to pass the US Immigration Service. For others Pinoys they can climb the mountains of Morroco to go to Italy and become domestic house maids if they are unsuccessful to be pick by caucassians as mail to order bride in Germany and France.

By some struck of fate, I found myself in England, a place I never really wanted to go in the first place. Here, I found out that while everybody in the Philippines go crazy about the ever worsening crisis. People here have a time to party and relax. It is a maddening discovery for me. While we Filipinos think of saving money so that we will have something to get in times of emergency, like for example getting sick. So you will have the money to pay for the doctor, medicines and hospital. In England such is not the case.

They have the National Health Service where they could get free medical and nursing services and almost free medicines as well (you only have to pay a standard prize usually £7 and you will get all your medicines in their full package, complete dosage for the antibiotics, all in the prize of one). So what my British brothers will worry about is saving up for their holiday to the Bahamas or to Thailand. They will not even have to worry if they get laid off from their job, it is just easy to file a jobseekers allowance and housing benefits to pay off their mortgages or rent. Plus being on benefits they get everything almost for free, dental check up, travel reimbursement. If they have kids, it is even more fabulous, as they can claim for more tax credit (discounts) and further child support benefits and income support for each of their kids, the more the merrier. In numerical terms a job-seeker allowance is on the average £ 60 per week, housing benefit is £150, Income support is a further £60 so in a month an unemployed single individual can get over £1,000. If they have kids they can even double this amount. Talk about the European credit crunch, give me a break.

It is surprising how England can give so much to their citizen. They are already a rich country, their standard of living is one of the highest in the world and the citizen gets a lot from their government.

In contrast, Philippines is one of the poorest economies of the world, health care is not free at most it is privately owned, commercialized and profit driven. The price of drugs in the Philippines is the second most expensive in the world. Health is a commodity that you have to pay. The free service given by government in public hospital is just a token. Only the medical and nursing services is free, you have to buy everything from the cotton balls, cannula, butterfly needles, gauze, name it and you have to buy it. And in a country where 46 million goes hungry (http://www.chdphilippines.org/) or half of the population do not have enough to feed their hungry stomach, Health is not a priority. In fact the people are not a priority of the government. The Filipino people now are the government commodity. They export the people. Philippines have become the number one exporter of Nurses and Doctors in the world.

In the UK, Filipino nurses accounts to over 50,000 or almost 15% of the nursing staff in the whole National Health Services (excluding the senior carers and Health Care Assistant). Nurse’s alones contribute almost £45,000,000 in the UK economy with the taxes they pay to the government that goes on the average 22% of their monthly take home salaries. Double that figure and you get the amount repatriated to the Philippines in terms of their padala to their families at home. We call the nurses and the “OFW” heroes because they keep the Philippine economy afloat in the ever worsening economic crisis that we are in. I call them heroes because they do what the government of the Philippines failed to do, to take care of its own citizenry.


When the mother of my friend Rachab sufffered a stroke, his sister gave him an automatic SOS flag asking for a huge amount of money to pay for the hospitalization expenses of their mother. Unfortunately the Philippines have no NHS to take care of this concerns. Rachab will have to pay for the medicines, for the hospital bed, for the doctors, for the physical therapist and to all the people who could possibly charged her mother with hospital expenses. Rachab will often times cry as he knows he can do a more competent nursing care for his ailing mother he cries because he feels guilty that he can take care of the people here in England, British People for that matter but cannot do it for his own mother.

But he has to work, for himself, for his family in the Philippines. An empty table during dinner is enough to convince him to stay in the UK. He works terribly hard and 22% of the toil he has done will go to the UK government to pay for the social services it gives to its people. The story of Rachab doesn’t stops there, although he is already British, some racist homeboy will pick on him because he looks different, he maybe British but he has a brown skin. He get assaulted sometimes as most NHS workers is prone to assault by patients or relatives. Majority of victims are of ethnic minorities. Violence is not an uncommon thing in the NHS, despite the fact that European’s talks about equal opportunies, racial equality and non-discrimination. Sometimes just like Tony Blair, Brits are good with talks but that’s all about in it. Well, Rachab case is just a subtle one, even if I forgot to mention that his Line Manager is picking on him always to the point of bullying him. His case is just typical of those who came to England legally, but imagine those who came legally and overstayed. This are the most vulnerable Filipinos in the UK they are the domestic helpers, nanny, builders and other piecemeal workers. They do not enjoy the protection of law they are bullied, discriminated and violated. The only crime they committed is that they loved their families so much they would want to give them a future, and the only future they can see is to get away from our country and to work anywhere else except the Philippines. If you take into account those Filipinos who are victims of human trafficking, who works in the most desolated areas of the world selling their labor and sometimes selling their bodies, I will just have to close my eyes and sigh imagining the inhumane and detestable situation they are in.

I remember a political activist in the Netherlands who said in an interview. Ganito na lang ba tayong mga Pilipino, taga hugas ng puwet, taga linis ng bahay, at parausan ng mga dayuhan. Kawawa naman tayo, ano pa ba ang hinaharap nating future.

I get mad of all this things, I get confused. But this is reality. I ask myself the cliche.
Why is it that my country, the Philippines, is the richest in the world in terms of its natural resources and its people, and yet we are one of the poorest among the poor?
Is it because we have brown skin or is it because we are poor?

The issue of colonialism, poverty, inequality, discrimination forever follows me, wherever I go. Its not really a surprise that after working for several years and we qualify for naturalization, we jump to grab the quickest time to swear allegiance to our adoptive country's constitution to get rid of our Philippine passport. Who has become like a scarlet letter of some sort. Or a jinx magnet that says hey I am a Filipino, use and abuse me. Haay!!! Just like all the rest of Pinoy life has become difficult, to start with, it never was easy on the first place.

It would have been a little bearable if our government take care of us. But then it becomes even more difficult and us even poorer not only in terms of material things but also in spirit. When the government starts to disappear and kill their own people who dare speak the language of TRUTH.

Sour graping or Sweet lemonizing?

I was tired of my long journey to Boston. I slept for a while and then went back to my laptop. I read an email from Susie, which I am planning to reply as soon as I am in the mood to write. All of a sudden a name flickered into my thought, Van. She was my closest friend when I was in Ateneo Law School. I do not exactly remember the circumstances why her name stumbled in my mind. I just suddenly remembered her, sort of a spur of the moment mental thing.

For no particular reason I googled Van's complete name and I found a link in the search engine, which I double clicked. I was led into a document from the Supreme Court release of the 2007 BAR results. I saw her name there. My old giddy friend is now a full-pledged lawyer.

Scanning the article I noticed some familiar names and started to google those names as well, and as if a sort of "eureka" moment I saw familiar sounding names that led me to more familiar names and suddenly I remembered their faces, and their names. They were my old classmates. I was like a comatose patient that suddenly woke up. I was happy to be reminded of my old friends in Ateneo. I realized they all fulfilled our shared dreams of becoming a lawyer.

Typical of me, I was in deep solitude asking myself some hypothetical scenario. Like, what would have been if I stayed in the Philippines and continued with my law education there? I probably might have been in the BAR-OPS celebration. Drowning myself with booze celebrating my BAR success or probably trying to forget the BAR altogether if I did not pass it.

What if the personal crisis that happened to me before never occurred? What if the hand of destiny was changed? So many questions, but I guess it was all worthless thoughts.
But then I came to a realization on the how if's scenario. How if things did not happened the way it happened. What if?

I might have become a lawyer by now, probably working in a law firm or working with the NBI as medico-legal, or probably as an NGO forensic expert. There are loads of probabilities.
But then if things did not happen the way that it happened. I am certain that I might have missed out on a lot of things life has to offer.

I probably would have missed a lot of life defining experiences.Things that is better left unsaid and left unblogged and forever buried and never to be uncovered. One sure though I would not be the person that I am now if I did not taste what destiny gave me. It is not that I am denying the materialist concept that we make our own destiny but there are things that happened that is somehow beyond our control. Insanity is a good example.

Hypothetically if I passed the 2007 BAR it could have been a defining moment for me, but I wasn't there.

I am away defining myself.

Tired but Happy

I never realized how productive I can be in a single day. Yesterday I crammed for my Land Law examination. Land law being one of the hardest subject in the English Legal System, for one although a relatively small country, England has a long history of property law. To make matter even worse England is very fuzzy with records. Needless to say voluminous accounts of law, statutes and guidelines need to be revised in order to understand English Property Law. But what does this have to do with me?

Well simply put, instead of doing my revisions I got engrossed being a couch potato. As you can see, Olympics just finished last Sunday although I have two weeks to do my revision, I decided not to read anything or do something during the Olympic season. I chose not to to miss Anastasia Liukin tumbling in gymnastics or the speed lightning of Hussain Bolt and the fish like swimming of Michaels Phelps. In other word I procrastinated. Only to realize that after the Olympics I have only one day to revise, the following Monday which was actually yesterday.

To make matter even worse I need to do a 2000 word essay for my Public and EU law subject, and not to reign on my parade, I was not able to sleep good. WTF!!! I woke up 10 in the morning monday and calculated that I have actually less than 24 hours to revise for my land law and that I also need to finish my essay. I was actually getting very stressed as the clocks keep on ticking and I have not covered anything substantial yet.

I slept round 1am today and woke up at around 4:45 am, I went to the University on my way there, inside the coach I was riding. I was left with nothing to read except my student law review magazine. There was a problem question there that I tried to memorize as I find it very very informative and useful. It was a two page article but pack with information, in fact too much information was contained there. I patiently and religiously recited in total silence all the passages in the article, it was about a problem in co-ownership but it tackled almost the entirety of the syllabus of land law, from registered to unregistered conveyancing to lease and mortgage.
Honestly I was reading the whole day, yesterday but it seems all the things I am reading just go straight to my eyes then out of my head, as if I am like the demented Margaret Thatcher, I utterly and disgustingly forgot every single information that I just recently read.

Come the day of the exam. I was in total amazement as I was like a scholarly lawyer answering the problem and essays that was given in the exam, punctuating every details with relevant case laws and scenarios that was seemingly correct in my judgment. I finished answering the first problem case and I dont know if the God of Fortune answered my mothers prayers.

All the problem that I encountered in the exams were based almost exactly on the articles and situational scenarios I memorized direct from my student law review magazine. I am not sure if my professor will be impress as I am damn sure that she wouldn't , on the answers I scribbled in my essays, but one thing I am sure the 30 minutes I spend memorizing the article was truly worthwhile compared to the laborious hours of incessant reading I was doing yesterday. I can feel the fatigue settling in my body now, but still I am happy. This is such a unique feeling, being tired and yet happy thinking I was able to do a lot in a single day cramming.

I feel like I am an elite Olympian athlete hehehe.

Exam, Essay and Exothermia

Way back 1993 I was tackling a midterm examination in General Systematics, for all of you who doesn't know the subject, its all about naming animals, classifying them into phylum, family, class and ultimately to the species level. This is one of my waterloo subjects back then aside from my traditionally hated math based science subjects like Optics and Mechanics and Miss Bucotots Algebra.

Honestly I never ever passed any single quiz or test that Miss Vitug gave us in her Gen. Systematics class despite me memorizing all those silly sounding scientific names for example Chanos chanos from the family chanidae which we simply know as "BANGUS" (milkfish). It is not of course Miss Vitugs fault as then I could find no fault on her, she is prolific and one of the better prof we have then.

Having to desperately pass that subject as it was one of my major subjects then, I went to the University library borrowed a couple of 4 books related to the subject and read them ala "komiks" style (fast reading without comprehension) to distinguished from most of my classmates who would actually highlight the main points elaborated in the book, with their ever infamous STABILLO Highlighter (mind you most of my classmates have the habit of highlighting almost all the contents of the book until all words inscribed in it is decorated with different shades mostly yellow, green and pink, that at times you get confused if your still reading a science book or a coloring book, whatever it is.)

Frankly I never bothered buying a stabillo highlighter then cause I don't have a personal book to highlight, most of my books are old edition release borrowed from the library and if I buy a highlighter then, it will eat up almost half of my allowance (baon) for the day which is only 30 pesos. I need to budget my money during those time as I am always skint my jeepney fare would cost me 5 pesos for the day, my tricyle fare would be 10 pesos, my lunch will be round 10 pesos and I will be left with a 5 peso savings, that I will keep throughout the week so that on a friday I could go out with mates to watch movie or just stay on the ruins of Intramuros all throughout the night watching the stars in the clouds and looking at the buzzling traffic jam of Manila, while we are snacking with "Lala" (pork crackles) and soft-drinks in the bottle and chatting boisterously with profound to ludicrous topics ranging from our dreams and aspirations to the trivial ones of who amongst our classmates have halitosis (bad breath).

My love for chatting with friends, going to cinemas, and just wasting time probably contributed to my failures in Miss Vitug's exams, confounded by the fact that I never like the hard sciences, in fact I'm more interested with the social sciences, I got a whooping perfect score in Philosophy, Philippine History and the likes. Mainly history appeals to me, as when I'm reading history, its like reading a "Komiks" which I'm quite used to and it tells a story, unlike the hard sciences, where you have to know a lot of details such as for example how many membranes enclosed a lysosomes, what is the function of this and that, appreciate organelles that you don't even see with your bare eyes, memorizing bird songs. Whats the point.

The exact point is, you need to get done and over with this subjects in order to get through graduation so you can apply to medical school which is then almost 99% of us want to do, or have to do, whatever the motivation is.

Come midterm exam in our class in systematics, Miss Vitug handed the examination papers, I was aghast while doing my preliminary reading on it. I only identified probably 10-15 questions I surely know,on the the exam consisting of 100 solid questions. God knows all the rest of the question other than the sure ones i have I dont have the faintest clue , im not sure, if it even existed.

Miss Vitugs exam is quite tricky it employs the fish and feather matching type where there is three columns of items and you will relate the first column to the second and ultimately to the third. If you fail to get it right on the second column you are already doomed not to get the third one. In short this exam is a killer for those who did not study very well, like me who just did it shabbily. But my saving grace was probably the bonus essay question at the bottom, its a question about ecology, environment and extinction of rare species which of course I am really passionate about. I made good on the exam trying to extract all the information from my idle brain, which is literally like extracting blood out from a turnip. I also managed to write an essay a lengthy one as such to add up for my short comings on the exams.

When I submitted my exam to Miss Vitug, I was even ashamed to show my face to her, as I know I will end up to have the lowest mark on that exam . I forgot to mention my batch is a is very competitive group, 3/4 of the class graduated valedictorian in high school, all the rest are salutatorians, honorable mentions and a few who just graduated and the name never mention except during the distribution of the high school diploma who were just very lucky to get into the program.

Ah exam is over after the major subjects is finished because we will have a one week vacation and I can spend it all day watching television and doing virtually nothing. Two weeks passed, and back to Miss Vitugs Systematics class, everyone is nervous about the results of the exam lo and behold she is giving the exams according to the results, calling the first who got the highest score. Its like a walk of fame and shame. Fame if you happen to score high and shame if you are at the bottom list.

The people she called first was seemingly expected but I got the surprise of my life, when she called my name on the middle of the bunch. Mind you on the middle not on the bottom list.+
Was it some sort of a miracle? I said to myself, indeed it was a miracle because I passed the exam and the essay I wrote contributed to my success as she gave a perfect score to it and added additional points that tip off the balance for me to pass the exam.

One of my boisterous classmate Julius Perida announced by shouting "Wow, Paul na-perfect mo essay question ni Miss Vitug" (wow, Paul's perfected Miss Vitug's essay), to me it was like getting the highest score, because never in the history of all the quizzes, long test and mid-term exam Miss Vitug ever gave a perfect score to an essay, let alone giving another few points as bonus points for a job well done. I kept that test results for a long time its a testament of a little miracle for me in my under graduate years. Its a reminder for me not to panic in desperate times, not even during examinations. Sometimes wits and talent might save the day, though not very often.

I want to share another essay to you by another lucky student: This is very timely as its almost ALL SAINTS DAY

The following is supposedly an actual question given on University ofWashington chemistry mid-term. The answer by one student was so"profound" that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well.

Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic(absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle's Law(gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.

One student, however, wrote the following:First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave, therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let's look at the different religions that exist in the world today. Most of these religions state if you are not a member of their religion, you will goto Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell.

With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate ofchange of the volume in Hell because Boyle's Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added. This gives two possibilities:

1. If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.

2. If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over. So which is it?

If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman Year that, "it will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,"and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number 2 must be true, and thus I am sure Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.

The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct...leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being,which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting "Oh my God."

THIS STUDENT RECEIVED THE ONLY "A"

***

wanting a meal?

व्हो इस मोरे हंगरी?

My Memorable Girl Friends (kaibigang babae)

Jeanette Imperial

(INDAY)

Philippine's best bantam weight Taekwondo

Member of the RP taekwondo team

A perfect mother and a very good daughter, my best friend

Based in Dublin, Ireland

(Claudine Barreto look alike)

Geneve Rivera

(BENG)
Doctor Activist
Secretary-General Health Alliance for Democracy
Community Organizer
A wife, a mother and a comrade
Based: Manila, Philippines
(Rock and Roller, Rakizta)



Susana Rodriguez

(Susie)

1. -Biomedical Scientist, Medical Doctor
2. -Beauty Queen (UST)
3. -Very Intelligent and witty
4. -Responsible daughter and sister still single

Based: London, UK

Suwerte ako at naging kaibigan ko ang mga babaeng ito. They are not only beautiful from the outside but also from the inside. I share a lot of fond memories with them and I miss them a lot. They are the few of the people that I remember and always make my day. I blog you girls para parati ko kayong maalala.

Heath Ledger is dead

I have always admired this australian actor since I have seen him in 10 things I hate about you, and that comedy flick which I already forgot the title where he played a commoner who joined jousting even if he is not of a royal lineage. When I learned about the news I told it to RJ who was shocked with his untimely demise. RJ being such a great fan of Heath was saddened but in a minute or so was able to compose himself and got over the news.

I find his death very theatrical and seemingly dramatic. But is quite fitting for somebody like him, whom you dont want to see old, just like probably Marilyn Monroe, Rico Yan, or James Dean. Well at least in the collective mine of his fans that is a consolation. We will always remember him young and beautiful. What an exit to this world, Death is such a drama!

7 years ago...

My greatest fear when I was a child was the death of a love one, especially my dad. In my childhood days it was a thought that I don't even bother to think, childish as it may seem I don't want to lose my dad for numerous reasons, firstly who will bring the pasalubong of pansit to us during payday, secondly who will accompany me to the cinema to watch the sequel of karate kid and superman, thirdly who will protect us and raise the family.

I am quite innocent however I know my mother can not cope up with raising all of us siblings. My father is such a strong figure in the family. To say that he is responsible is an understatement and will not be fair to the man. I have always seen my dad as Clark Kent, handsome, quite, very intelligent and when the need arises he will always be there to be superman. I remember a very stormy day when the roofings of our house was blown away by the strong winds, he went outside to fix it so that we will not be wet despite the frightening lightning and thunder, he braves all this natural oddities to ensure that we will be safe.

On my years of growing up my Dad the very typical father will go out in the house in the morning to work the whole day until night time, as he toil to provide for the family. He will always be there at around 8-9pm and whenever he arrives he will make it a point to kiss us all goodnight before we go to sleep. My father never smoke and he never drink alcohol he always believed that you do what you preach, he is indeed the perfect role model. Disagreements sometime ensues in the famiy as I always speak my mind, which sometimes appear disrespectful although not intended. My dad will always talk to me and always quick on reminding me, that if you do not have something good to say, do not say anything.

My dad for me is the best dad, he is always there for us when we needed him. He seems to have the answer to all the questions of life.

I remember it year 1999, my dad was complaining of a stomach ache and a bloating tummy. As a medical intern then I went to my senior collegues to ask for assistance with my dad's case. An x-ray and ultrasound was done on my dads stomach and my frat MD brod said to me, that it was nothing to worry about. Until my dad complained of terrible pain, which is quite unusual, because my dad rarely complains even when I was a child I never heard him complain of anything, until this time in 1999. I went to a consultant surgeon who is the husband of one of my doctor activist friend, he fashionably did a complete and thorough medical examination on my dad, and immediately he said an emergency operation is needed as my dad's intestine is severely obstructed that even his breathing is affected by the compression of the obstructed bowels to his lungs. I was dumbfounded about all the inputs I am receiving, despite having a medical degree I never entertain that my dad has something serious afflicting him.

Maybe its just a simple case of large bowel obstruction and nothing more. I was in a nasty denial.

My dad was very afraid not of his condition but the fact the he is going under the knife. He never liked his body tampered around by doctors, he requested me to come to him in the operation table so that I will be able to guard the doctors from doing anything not right on him. I know my dad never really think like this, I know he was really afraid and he just wanted me to be with him during this frightening moment.

I asked the surgeon if I could be inside the Operating Room, but instead of just being a witness to the operation, the Consultant requested me to assist him because it was an emergency case and there are no more surgical staff residents to assist him. Although then I was in my Pediatrics rotation I agreed to assist in my dads operation.

It was a long procedure, painfully slow as well, a subtotal hemicolectomy was done where a long segment of the large intestine was resected and connected together afterwards. The operation was the longest most memorable event of my entire career as a trainee doctor. After the operation I already knew the obstruction was cancer as liga clips marker was put inside the pelvic bones of my dad for radiotheraphy purposes. The operation went out really well, but inside the doctors changing room tears are flowing in my eyes, and one senior surgical resident doctors consoled me and I was like the little child that my dad use to talk to when I ask my collegues. Is it cancer? I asked him, and he said to me, you are a doctor already, and you know the answer. That reply shook my entirety, yes indeed when I assisted to operate my dad I am a doctor but after the operation I am already again back to being his son. As a son to a father you never outgrow your relationship with your father. I will always be the same kid that longs for his pasalubong, that same innocent kid that waited every year for summer beach excursion that my dad always organize, the joy ride we always do when we are going around shopping for the holidays.

My dad battle with cancer was quite short but courageous. It was a trying moment to the whole family unit. Finances is going down, we have to mortgage the house to finance the expensive medicines and hospital bills. I have to mature skillfully wise as a doctor, even if I am not allowed to do the subdural block to help ease the cancer pain, I have done it with the help of his anesthesiologist who taught me the procedure so that we do not have to go to the hospital for sedation when the cancer pain is there.

It was hard task for the rest of the family, but we all gathered what is left of our strength then to help our dad in his most vulnerable time. Until that fatefull day 7 years ago, December 2, 2000, inside Manila Doctors Hospital when my dad eventually succumbed to cancer. It was a fulfillment of my greatest fear, death of a loved one. But now I know the reason of my fear, that during my childhood I can just describe but can never pinpoint out. I thought it was the fear of losing someone who will work so that we could enjoy life, nor the fear of not getting the materials things that he can give nor the protection that he can offer. I have feared death of a loved one for the reason of LOVE and all the rest is secondary and probably not even important.

Today I remember you DAD.

I miss her...

One thing I miss this holiday is go on talking to my friends and exploring the wilderness of London with my mates Jayne is one of them. I just wanted to share the email she sent me,which I find really endearing.

Here is her email:

Dear Paul,

I was reading an excerpt from this book and it had me thinking of us, and
our lives this past three months in London, and how we met.

"Cities, unlike villages and small towns, are plastic by nature. We mould
them in our images: they, in their turn, shape us by the resistance they
offer when we try to impose our own personal form on them. In this sense,
it seems that living in a city is an art, and we need the vocabulary of art,
of style , to describe the peculiar relation between man and material that
exists in the continual creative play of urban living, The city as we
imagine it, the soft city of illusion, myth, aspiration, nightmare, is as
real, maybe more real, than the hard city one can locate in maps and
statistics, in monongraphs on urban sociology and demograpy and
architecture."

For all its ups and downs, i think the city is great and i'm even especially
grateful to have you in my life. I hope you're having a merry xmas. I'm
spending it in california finally where i arrived yesterday. I stayed a
week in South Korea and 9 hours in Beijing before arriving home. Though its
good to be back, my brother is great and everything is fine, except for
these papers, which are still a work in progress.

Miss you and again Happy holidays.

Love,
Jayne

Trip to Paris

I have always fancy going to France in particular Paris. Perhaps because there was a promise made to me by somebody that if by any chance will be able to make it to Paris in our lifetime, we will have a cup of coffee in Paris, or to be more exact a caffee mocha with whip cream on top.

But I guess promises are meant to be broken. The promise of a cup of coffee in Eiffel was dump in the bin years ago. But the promise I made to myself that if I go to Paris I will carry on drinking coffee in Eiffel no matter who I am with and no matter what the circumstances will be. Once I set my foot to Paris, I will go to Eiffel tower that is a resolution I have for years.

Yesterday that dream was realized. I went to Paris with a friend, Roberto. It was a rushy rushy spur of the moment plan that happened in an instant. I dont even have a spare shirt with me, as soon as the idea hit my conciousness, the next thing I knew I was inside the business cabin of eurostar sipping red wine and looking outside the window of the fast train that will bring me to one place I really wanted to go.

As me and Roberto hit Paris Nord we went immediately to the tube station going to Eiffel, but as a first timer in the franco-land and with barely a knowledge of French except for Bonjour Monsieur and Cest la vie I never realized its hard to get by in France without having to try to speak the language. For one we ask an information station, and sadly the man on the other end of the till barely speaks English, in fact the only English he knows is No No and No. He does not probably know any word of English except for No.

But since Robert is a frequent traveller we were able to find our way by just following our feet, and the next thing I remember, I went out of the the Tour de Eiffel station and lo and behold Eiffel Tower with all of its majesty and greatness greeted me with a BaNG!!!

After going and around Eiffel tower Obet and I got tired and we are confronted with another problem, we dont have a place to stay for the night. I just gamely told him, well might as well sleep rough on the streets of Paris which he immediately dismissed. He thought I was joking but I wasn't. When I was in Amsterdams months ago, I walked thru the whole red light district for several hours just for the fun of it. I wouldn't miss a chance of another revelry now in Paris.
Well just for convenience sake as Obet will be returning to work tomorrow I acceded to his demand of looking for a hotel to stay for the night. We went to Blanche which is the station nearest to Moulin Rouge the red light district of Paris, there we got a nice cozy room fit for our tight stingy budget. The next day we woke up early as we planned to tour the city as we will be leaving at 4pm the same day.

We went to the Church of the sacred cross which is very near Moulin Rouge but is a steep climb up a hilly land. Its was all very quick as we dont have the luxury of time we immediately descended to the place to go to Notre Dame and then to the Arc de Triomphe. The next place was Louvre where the Da Vinci Code movie was shot, and of course we just got to say Hi! to Monalisa which cost as 10 euros. The collection of Louvre was just amazing, I was in front of Venus de Milo and other masterpieces by world renowned painter and sculptor. The artistic side of me want to get out again. But then we have to hurry for our next and final destination the top of Eiffel.

I was a bit acrophobic while the lift ascending from the top of Eiffel was moving. It was just a bit nauseating. But at the top I just cant help but to be amazed of the beauty in front of me. All the stress I have been to the past weeks simply melts away. It was just 10 minutes that we have alloted ourselves for the trip to the tower of Eiffel as we need to catch our train to bring us back home.

We catch the train at the last minute, passport checks, immigration control and then we are heading back to another city, which I call home...temporarily. Next month we are heading to New York City if all plans push thru, I will meet most of my relatives there, which I have not seen for ages. My ninang and my ninong and cousins and other close relatives. The last time I have seen my cousin we were all very young and now we are all grown up in fact we are old enough to be called oldies... Yuck I hate the idea. But then what can we do.

For as long as there are cities like Paris to explore we are all young at heart...Next stop the Land of the free.

Breaking Free- XanaDU

I need to say some things. I’d really like it if you can listen.

1.) Signing yourself up for a lifetime of Greek holidays is never a bad thing.

2.) Throughout my travels (and technically I still am travelling), I realized that I am fully prepared to live a life of solace and hard work if I couldn’t have you. I know these are bold words but what you’re doing is such a huge statement that I thought you should know. For a while I have been living a somewhat shielded life-- guided in knowing that I hold a bit of safety; guarded by a sense of stability that I think resides either with you, or with what I learned and saw of myself from you (and I hope it’s the latter). But the essence, the strong, focal, moral (if you will) compass that has guided me through some of the more trying and isolated times in my life (in the past two years) is you. It probably can be interpreted as slightly pathetic but it certainly provided me with a sense of courage and foundation when I found myself surrounded in the chaotic or discomfort of the general things that I didn’t like or cared to indulge in. Needless to say you have yet to escape my everyday thoughts, compounded only by the explosion of facebook as a diary of social norm, attached to our daily existence in the way one checks email or carries a cell phone. And for me still carries with it a vivid memory of which has been difficult to efface. It is a double-edged sword but not all of pain, also of guilty pleasure. It sucks I hate it.

3.) I also must say that you have been a piss-poor friend, most especially when I was facing a difficult time of settling in
London. It certainly reminded me of my reasons for parting with you. Keep in mind also that what allows me to write this to you comes from your own words said at a time when you were already with your current love. You may not remember but I think the last time was shortly after you came back from your two-week holiday stay in Tunisia, where you said “it was boring;” followed by the “I miss you,” and of your feelings where “it comes and it goes”. Yet I did sense a change of feeling when you visited his family, a bond I’m sure that was strengthened further when you were having a difficult time settling in
Switzerland. I cannot paint a picture for you of my grim experiences in my first months in
London, and I was slightly bothered when I told you this and you lightly passed on knowing that the city is said to be among the loneliest in the world. I remember vividly thinking, “why couldn’t you tell me this when I was deciding/stressing between
Manchesterand
London.” I was definitely bothered when you said that. However, the sense of control, ease and comfort that I feel now is a complete 180 to what I felt before (and Im not an idiot, im not just complaining, it certainly was difficult, and I think you can slightly relate) is really good to see and experience; and it reveals to me that our existence is nothing but a continuous development, marked significantly by the choices we make and the lives we touch (this is partly what allows me to think about living a life of comfort in solace and hardwork). I realize know that my mentality at the time we finally parted, of thinking that choosing to be with someone is a distant second over careers or dreams, I think is slightly fruitless, especially when the things you want, and those you want, tend to diverge at every direction. Though I don’t at all disagree that we needed to be apart, you needed to be with someone else. This is my own doing, and this I know.
4.) I always wonder what I would say or do if ever our paths cross again. It ranges, but I think the most powerful thing I can say, is “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for making you feel in the way that I did on those times that I did. I’m sorry for making you feel less of your own, and I’m really sorry, if ever I did, of making you feel like less of a person. I’m sorry for the times I lied, or the things that I did that caused you to act in the way that you did. I know I was partly responsible. I was jealous and out of place. At one point I was really hoping that you’d get a chance to see this new me that has evolved, or developed, into something else but I know now that that probably just lies as a figment of my imagination hampered by that grim reality in knowing that while some things stay the same others lie effectively beyond our control.

5.) I’m sure its more difficult than you care to indulge and I don’t expect anything at all. However, in those moments and situations like these, all I have are words and these are my words without an inch of fabrication but certainly hidden inside, buried and difficult to muster, yet plucked like a stubborn feather refusing to let go. I find myself with so many words to say yet nothing comes out. Partly because I know I have no role or right to say or feel, yet I do and I am, and for that, if inconvenient, well…..I must say after hearing your news (though to be honest, I sensed it was coming) I find myself with my mouth open a lot yet no words come out. Just a chuckle, and a sigh and a smirk, and maybe a wince, definitely a grimace. Yet I know I cannot watch you take this step without saying my piece.

6.) You said you were weak. I tend to be bold and especially as I get older I realize that if I want things to happen, I have to make it happen. However, I also often make decisions with my eyes closed, which ironically is what led me to this point in my life and also is what is leading me to write.

7.) By the way, I’m not high, and I’m not drunk and I’m not stoned. I’m totally sober, though I did just wake up and my stomach kind of ache.

8.) If survival is Darwinian (this is the science aspect of my Msc course seeping in), then I commend her for keeping up and being with you. Though I never could, I also knew we needed to part and that we needed to change. It may be that these are just moments, and it will go away for me tomorrow or it may not…but if moments are all we’ve got, then this is the best of what I can of what I want to do.

9.) It’s a bit a long (and slightly poetic) partly because I am feeling (a bit) melancholic, but there lies no word of a lie, and it is something that I needed you to hear.

10.) I have gone as far as rationalizing in my head that life is not about “replacing anyone” but rather experiencing people. However, I still find, even in the most compromising situations, that a part of me is still closed, and I think its because of you. So I need you to tell me something…tell me how much you love that person, and end this rotting feeling that I think is poisoning my perception.
So here ends my piece, and hopefully begins my peace.
_______________________
P.S. There are still so many things I want to say to you, from the insane, to the funny to the mundane. But you can end it, if you can, then please…because I need it. I do respect you and will honor the things you say. It may also be that I give you too much credit yet it is still my choice. And it may be that this is all in the past and I need to think of my future, but I need to move and I can’t keep looking back. I let you go, right? Can you let me go, please? Like I said, signing up for a lifetime of Greek holidays is never a bad thing.

Langonisa Meal

Papasok ako ng McDo sa Tottenham Court Road sinisipat ko yung menu board nila. Napa buntong hininga na naman ako. Hay wala yung gusto ko. Langonisa meal ng McDo yan ang gusto kong kainin, kaso wala, milya milya naman kasi ang layo ng McDo intramuros, sa McDo rito sa London. Pinaka malapit sa panlasa ko at sa mga dati ko ng ino-order eh pancake meal.

Can I have one pancake meal please? Mala brit accent kong order sa front crew man ng Mcdo. Two quid sixty five pence mate sagot naman nya, sabay abot ko ng 20 pounds note. Have you got smaller change mate? No unfortunately. Ganting sagot ko.

Habang kinakain ko ang pancake meal ko naalala ko yung med-schl days namin. Kumakain lang ako ng pancake meal sa umaga pag bandang biyernes or malapit na ang pag uwi ko sa aming bahay. Dahil wala ng natitira sa 500 allowance ko weekly non. Kaya imbes na longganisa meal, pancake meal na lang kasi mas mura. Kasabay ko ang mga kasama ko sa dorm non, sila Alyel, Laurence, at Dennis.

Noong hindi na ko nag-do dorm dahil binarikadahan ng swat team ang dorm namin dahil nag-i-squat lang pala ang kasera namin sa lupa ng iba. Parati pa rin akong sumasabay sa mga ka-frat ko na mag-agahan sa McDo intramuros. Syempre dahil uwian na ako, di na ako nauubusan ng allowance kaya everytime na oorder ako ng breakfast meal ang walang kamatayang Langonissa meal ang aking oorderin, me dagdag pang extra-rice pag mejo may exams, dahil nadadalas rin ang exams nadadalas rin ang aking pag-order ng extra fried rice. Kaya pagtapos ng aking second year med-proper lumulobo na talaga ang aking katawan. Halos higit 4 na taon na ang nutrisyon ng aking katawan ay nangagaling sa longanisa breakfast meal, siguro halos lahat ng mga estudyante ng medisina noong panahon namin, ganon din ang routine. Hanggang naka-graduate ako ng medicine at sinumpang di na ako kakakain ng langonisa meal.

Nag-sesentimiyento de asukal na naman ako. Well for one naalala ko na naman ang simpleng buhay ko non sa atin. Si Alyel nga pala yung ka-brod ko na ka-dorm mate ko din nag-training sa London dahil british company yung may ari ng barko na kung saan siya ang ship physician, dinalaw ko sya sa hotel nya at sinamahang mag-sight seeing sa London. Halos 10 oras kaming walang hinto sa paglakad at pagkuha ng mga pictures, hanggang sa napagod at umuwi sa hotel nila, bago ako umalis nag-pa inom si Mokong sukat ba namang orderin ay Cider drink, napangiti ako dahil sabi ko sa sarili ko, nautakan ko siya kasi di naman talaga ako umiinom at buti na lang ang inorder nya ay sukang pinabulok lang at hindi beer. Si Alyel kasi certified sunog baga ito ng dorm namin kasama ni Noel at Edwin, sila ang malakas uminom at mag-yosi.

Pagkatapos naming uminom ng cider umoorder ang mokong ng pizza at spaghetti, mahina pa ring kumain ang aking ka-brod kaya ako pa rin ang umubos ng spaghetti at kalahati ng pizza nya. Tapos nag-aya siyang uminom uli. Sabi ko sa kanya di ako umiinom eh alam mo naman yan, sabi nya inde last na to. Ako na ang pumunta sa bar at umoorder ng San Miguel beer. Di ko inorder ang heineken at guiness kasi me available daw na San Miguel beer, ang kaso not made in the Philippines but made in Barcelona, Spain.

Lumabas kami ng hotel at sa veranda uminom ng san miguel, pag patak pa lang ng san miguel beer sa dila ko, halos parang lumutang ako sa alapaap. Nakalimutan ko ang aking sarili at parang nag-time travel ako. Ang beer na iniinom ko ay hindi made in Barcelona, Spain eto ay made in the Philippines at ako ay sure na sure. Parang eto yung mga T-shirt ng GAP na made in the Philippines na ibinebenta sa Harrods. Tinatakan lang pero sa totoo made in the Philippines. Di naman talaga ako umiinom ng beer pero pag lapat pa lang sa panlasa ko ng beer na hawak ko, naalala ko ang lasa ng mga beer sa atin, na dati ang panlasa ko ay mapait na amoy iheng likido. Ewan ko ba parang ang sarap ng beer na nainom ko ng gabing iyon.

Kinabukasan umuwi na si Aleil pabalik ng pinas, hinatid ko sya sa airport.

On my way home nakakita ako ng McDo at nag-decide na kumain bago umuwi sa aming bahay ko. Pumasok ako sa McDo at nag-order. Can I have one langonisa meal please? Pardon ,at naka tiim bagang na ganting sagot ng front crew man sa akin. I'm sorry I mean I would like to have a pancake meal.

Can I have one pancake meal please? Mala brit accent kong order sa front crew man ng Mcdo. Two quid sixty five pence mate sagot naman nya, sabay abot ko ng 20 pounds note.

At ako ay tuluyang napangiti sa aking maliit na pagkakamali.