In the footsteps of a saint

"Why Poland?" my fellow Filipino at a journalism training course here in Germany asked me when I told her about my plan to cross the northeast border one weekend. A training staff, an Italian born and raised in Germany, joined in the conversation and told me, "I have never gone to Poland."

I can see what they mean - there are other more interesting places to visit in Europe. A Filipino will look southwest of the continent - France, Italy, Spain, Austria or Greece, just as every central European would do.

I told them I want to see a Divine Mercy shrine. Finally, the Italian assistant said, "Oh, Catholics."

Poland is not as touristy as its southwest neighbors. But yes, it has something that makes it special in the hearts of every Catholic. It is the homeland of Pope John Paul II. And of St. Faustina, whose convent in the city called Plock not far from Warsaw was the subject of my visit.

So, that weekend I went out as planned, taking the express train from Berlin to Warsaw. Five hours later, I was in a town called Kutno, from where I took a slow train to Plock. I reached Plock by nightfall an hour later.

It is an unassuming city. It is small and quiet, devoid of the hustle and bustle I've seen in other European cities. Save for its big petrochemical factory that supplies Poland's liquid gas requirements, it doesn't figure in the map.

But it's a quite charming city, located by the Vistula River, Poland's biggest. On my way to the city center from a distance across the river, I saw a hill with a big church on it. It was a picturesque sight; it added excitement to my trip.

When I checked in to my hotel, I asked the receptionist how to go to the Divine Mercy shrine. She looked at me puzzled. She said she didn't know. That surprised me.

Plock may not be a tourist town but many people, especially Divine Mercy devotees, know its place in history. Seventy-eight years ago in February, Jesus appeared to a simple nun, who is St. Faustina today, in her room in the cellar and instructed her to paint the Divine Mercy according to the image she was seeing. Jesus also gave direction for the institution of the first Sunday after Easter as Mercy Sunday.

That's the story of the Divine Mercy, to whom the world today looks up for its salvation.

But that fact, it seems, was lost on the Polish receptionist. Or maybe it's harsh reality - no prophet is accepted in his hometown.

I found my way to the shrine anyway the next morning, with a little help from the cab driver, who brought me to the city's cathedral. That was the big church I saw the other day when I neared Plock. It is a 12th century gothic Catholic Church.

Locating the Divine Mercy shrine was another struggle. Not that it was far from the church, but nobody spoke English in this city.

The door has been opened to me, though. First was the cab driver. After him came this kindly looking nun I found inside the church who walked me up the street to the Sanctuarium when I asked for the shrine. She had to accompany me. She couldn't speak English and give me the directions.

We entered an old convent that has been well preserved. That was the Sanctuarium, the convent where St. Faustina stayed.

The nun - apparently a member of the Congregation of Our Lady of Mercy, St. Faustina's religious order - brought me to the side of the convent and there I found my purpose. In front of me was the Divine Mercy image, built on the exact spot where Jesus appeared to St. Faustina. For a moment, I stood there in unbelief.

When I was left alone, I found myself absorbing the deep silence that enveloped the area. It was a very powerful place. It's though as if the Lord has left His presence there, and you would do nothing but feel Him and breathe Him. It calmed my spirits.

Another nun, wearing the same habit as the first but more senior, appeared in my view. I took the chance to ask her for St. Faustina's room. It was down in the basement opposite the Divine Mercy shrine and she gladly opened it for me.

The saint's room has been well kept, too. I wanted to wonder why was nobody else was visiting this shrine. If it were located in the Philippines, it would be full of devotees on this Sunday. But I was glad I had the room to explore by myself.

It hit me: St. Faustina was a real person who lived like the rest of us. Here was her dwelling place: the bakery and kitchen where she faithfully performed her tasks; and her small room where an equally small bed, her robe, shoes, bag and umbrella were on display.

Small little things dot every corner of the basement. The nuns had followed every bit of change in the saint's life and documented it for the world to see.

The nun tried to explain some things to me in Polish. I was only too glad to feast my eye on the saint's memorabilia.

I had half the day to linger in the convent and feel its soothing energy. I have not been to a saint's trail and to a Divine Mercy shrine with such very high historical value. When I came out, it felt as if I had been to a holy tent, with clouds of smoke all over it.

It made me ready for the long journey back to Berlin, and to my Divine Mercy mission in the Philippines where I would go back three weeks later.

In the slow train out of Plock, I thought that perhaps if my friends back in Berlin knew what is to see and experience in Poland, they would not have been skeptic of anyone going to this less-trodden country.

Déjà vu in Prague

It is happening again – my déjà vu experience. This bridge leading to Prague Cathedral in this touristy little European town is exactly the one I saw somewhere in my subconscious – in one of my dreams I can’t exactly recall now just when. But in that dream, I felt a little cold, perhaps because it would be in a wintry environment as it turned out to be. I can’t almost believe this bridge is really how it looked in that dream – the design, the length and how it ends to the arches leading to the courtyard. Just perfect. Maybe I should dream more because it bring me there!

Faith unfreeze

St. Albert Church in Nestorstrasse off Kurfurstendamm looked empty at the outside. The doors were closed so it was easy to see there was nothing going in the church. That’s why passing by, I didn’t notice I was in front of the building I was looking for. Instead, I went straight to what looked like a cathedral further up the street (back in the Philippines, every big church is almost always a Catholic church). I thought I heard a bell toll from its towers so in haste I entered it, thinking I was late for the mass. But once inside, I found out it was an evangelical church – a woman minister was in the pulpit directing the few attendees to the readings of the day, in German.
An elderly just outside the massive walls to the church was kind to accommodate my question but she, too, spoke only in German. Helpless, I went out the church into the street, searched for – and found – a Good Samaritan to point the way to the Catholic church I just missed.
St. Albert wasn’t really a big church, but more like a chapel I guess, except that it has high ceilings (Catholics comprise only 30 percent or 1.2 million of Berlin’s total population of 3.4 million – Protestants are the majority – so small churches like this will do for the flock).
I found inside the church about 70 attendees, mostly senior citizens, and I came in just before the priest was to give the Holy Communion. The mass must have started earlier at 10 a.m., not 10:30 as a staff at the International Institute of Journalism told me, and the service was in German, not English, again not as I expected.
In panic, I queued up to receive the Holy Communion – I thought to myself, perhaps I could just stay for personal prayers later on (it was impossible to look for another Mass. This is Berlin, not Manila).
The mass was over in a few minutes, so I lingered to pray, until the church was almost empty. Just when I thought I have seen the last person come out, one by one, people started coming in. They were very distinct, however. They were not Germans nor Asians like me. They were all blacks (no pun intended). I suspected there was a prayer meeting to follow and regardless of the crowd, I decided I would stay. But curiosity got the better of me, so I was soon inquiring about what would happen in the church. The African-looking young man I inquired from said an English service was to follow, at 12 p.m. or an hour and a half since I entered the church. I was like a parched soil that suddenly got excited for the prospect of rain!
More people filed into the church and it was filled in no time – the crowd numbered about 200. I saw a couple of fellow Filipinos in the hall – the rest were whom I thought African-Germans – and we simply nudged in respect for our race.
The mass was soon rolling and it was English all right. A choir at the loft gave a solemn touch to the celebration. At the Holy Communion, I just stayed at the pew because I already had it earlier.
The Mass was over in about an hour and I left the church to a final song with some foreign, yet lovely sounding lyrics (for some reason, the persons I asked about for the meaning of the words didn’t know the meaning themselves although just like me, they sang it with glee).
The church that was empty when I first passed by it was now bursting with people going out to their other errands for the day.
I thought at 1 p.m. the weather was harsh. I pulled in my jacket to pack the heat inside but the cold only grew worse so I had to rush my walk to Kurfurstendamm to the subway station in Adenaurplatz where I got off for the church.
I wasn’t hungry but I was really feeling the cold so I had to stop by a cafe for a cup of hot tea and some bread - to gather heat for the cold.
It occurred to me, I have been cowering in the cold thirteen days into my two-month stay in Berlin. But I thought to myself it wasn’t a good idea to let my faith freeze but get it warmed by the grace of the Holy Mass in the same way the hot cup of tea revived the life in my sun-deprived body.

detour delights

How true that unplanned trips are the most memorable and enjoyable.
Nearly two weeks in the province for the long holiday break and no experience was the most fun than the one I had with my brothers at san fabian beach today.
And nothing can give you thrill than doing something you have not planned.
I borrowed someone's pair of shorts, took off my polo shirt and pair of jeans and plunged into the water. Oh the feeling from an unexpected adventure!
I tried my swimming skills in the water but none gave me joy than just lying on my back and let the water bouy me up. I just realized that I didn't have to do anything - flip my feet or hands - to stay up. All I needed to do was float on my back, chin up. Unfolded before me was the clear blue sky with some cloud patches like smudge. It was like it was just me, the water around me and the sky above. It was like meeting God!
Oh maybe I should plan my trips less and look closely at the intimate surprises tucked at the corners, waiting to be discovered by the wide-eyed wanderer.

finale

I know my vacation is ending when it's time to go to the manaoag shrine to hear mass.
This is true of this long holiday break. After nearly two weeks in the province, I'm getting ready to go back to the big city.
So, on the second day of the new year, I visited the manaoag church, a fitting finale to my much-needed break.
I don't know why I make it a point to make a doorstop at the church. It could be because each time I go home I become prayer-less. When it's time to leave, I become prayerful because I'll leave my loved ones again.
These times are really precious to me. I rarely find time to go home. When it is over, I become restless and anxious.
Today, going to manaoag, I was like that. After the visit, the feeling was different. I become more positive thinking.
Aha! I think that's what it is - this is my place of peace. This is where I get strength to face my tough life out there.
I'm going back to the city ready to make the daily grind again.

to eternity

There are three ways, they say, to eternity: write a book, sire a child and plant a tree.
I haven't written a book (just contributed an essay), doesn't have a child yet, so I'm left with planting a tree.
That I did this new year's day. I planted, together with my father, fast-growing gmelina seedlings, plus some umbrella tree and narra in our backyard.
I can't remember the last time I dug the earth, but this recent experience reunited me with mother nature - it was good feeling the soil in my hands.
The planting made me realize I was doing something for forever - the trees, when they grow, will outlast me and my father.
Actually, that was not the intention. I want shades around the house because a typhoon middle of last year felled many mature, shady trees that it now becomes so hot at suntime.
My father said the gmelinas can grow a trunk in half a year, so the next time I go back home, I can expect some new leaves providing protection from the heat for us.
Anyway, if the planting will give us more than the short-term goals, it is an experience worth repeating. Nature can exceed the beneficence of human intentions anytime.

gary v.

Somewhere in a men's magazine I read gary v.say that he can say things when he is angry but he can say sorry when he needs to.
I read that at a time I was angry with someone. But last night, I made amends and asked for an apology and the person accepted it and in turn apologized for anything that may have hurt me, too.
For all I think I'm worth, I'm really detestable when I'm angry and express that emotion. I can unthink and say hurtful things.
But then it's really not me to have an enemy. I was glad the person was receptive to me, for really I was sincere with what I did.
I realized I'm a very proud person yet I profess allegiance to a God known for mercy, patience and humility. Jesus left no pride in Himself suffering for humanity and here I am striking back for a little offense on my person.
But I'm glad I let go of my pride, humbled myself as needed and now the animosity is over.

angel of doom

A few days ago I saw vp noli de castro saying on tv that greed is what's keeping oil firms from cutting gas prices, in much the same way that it was greed that led banks to invest in bad securities that is now causing the collapse of the global economy.
That was probably the first time I thought the vp made sense. He appeared to know what he's talking about.
Of course, I couldn't agree more with this keen observation. I have long held that greed has overcome the hearts of these oil firms, that even though oil prices at the world market have plunged from their record peaks, oil firms continue to charge us steep prices.
It is appalling, no, a sickening development that just a thought of which makes me want to puke. I could'nt believe humans could go so low but here is a proof that we indeed could go the bounds of decency for money that would'nt even make our lives better.
What could these people be thinking? That it's all right to be stealing from consumers in broad daylight. Greed is understatement. No word is available to describe this avarice. Maybe hell should invent a word to describe this attitude.
My God, what has made them sell their soul to the devil? They are despicable, they are not fit to be called humans. They are a shame to humanity. It makes me want to wish I wasn't made human at all.
The whole country is mired in poverty and here are people who can't distinctly see the sufferings of others because of their greed.
There was a movie about angels who were sent on earth to exterminate bad people. They carried shotguns and they would shot without giving notice at anyone marked for death.
I wish now that was true or if there would be a selection process, I'd volunteer to be one of the hitmen. I would gladly crush the life out of these blood-suckers who don't deserve to live a minute more for the greed that makes this planet a regrettable existence and the human race a hopeless generation.
Maybe the shotgun is a little benign. Perhaps I should make them drink an ounce of gasoline every hour until they choke of heat and then I'd send a lightning bolt into their dirty mouths so that they would explode violently, their skins flying high into the universe so that they would never be seen or heard from anymore.
Oh maybe, I should do the same to bus or jeepney drivers who are just as greedy, and let's throw in the energy secretary and all leaders in government who are not doing anything to stop the carnage.
I am dreaming, but how I wish this greed and shame in the oil sector is just a bad dream I could wake up from.

3hrs from manila

the bloomberg workplace in capital square on church street is quite a big office with about 300 people in it. i can imagine about the same number of terminals, each one spewing endless amount of information on the financial markets.
the terminals are fine except that i'm really having a hard time going through the keys, the tickers that should let me see some of the data that clients pay bloomberg oodles to access. man, i should be lucky i can get them with just a click on the computer. but nay, i need eons to be familiarized with the functions.
yesterday, reine and clyde gave us a few pointers on how to write the four-paragraph lead - the bloomberg trademark, and run some energy tickers. this also needs some getting used to. but as the guys would say, once you pass the paragraph test, you're on your way to carving a career with bloomberg.
the office itself is a melting pot of races - i see indians, indonesians in their native garbs. the floor, though, is dominated mostly by white employees - from south africa to australia - and it appears that there's co-existence in this corner of the world. it is a place where boundaries are erased and probably political and religious affiliations not much of an issue.
last night, i had a night's out with some of the guys - uyen and zang (hard to remember) from saigon and hanoi, respectively, reine from johannesburg, and sue from singapore) at clark quaye (they pronounce it, oddly, as "key"). it was a blast to say the least - so much to discover in people from different backgrounds. i'm having a feeling that i'm becoming cosmopolitan (hahaha) as i could tell i easily and quite effortlessly mingled with the group (every filipino has a good story to tell!).
no time to explore fullerton hotel though, except that i tried walking on cavenagh bridge nearby, said to be the first bridge ever constructed in singapore (by the british, whom sue called "stupid" because the bridge couldn't lift up as intended).
yesterday, sue introduced me to some of the reporters around the desk i would be using for the two days, and one of the guys said something like "were you the guy i saw two weeks ago?" not surprising. it happens all the time. i have to ask my parents if there were two or three of us when i was born.
i met steph, the editor from malaysia and she's quite personable (she looks weird in bloomberg bio) and lilian (the only filipino i know here in this office, besides luzi - they call her luzi ann here) also. steph said something like i'm doing a great job at the bureau (whatever that means hahaha, i don't want to flatter myself).
tony was his usual self. after we did a story on the central bank governor, he advised me to leave and enjoy the hotel. kler said he's the kindest soul hereabouts and i believe her.
quite an experience, really.

a surfeit of rewards

at work, i had too much today. several bloomberg stories run with my name on it (more of coco's generosity than my effort haha). one of them even landed bloomberg'stop page worldwide. hah, a fly on the carabao's back. i'll have a chance to meet them big-time bloomberg guys when i get to join the singapore picnic next month.

clairvoyance

i dreamed the other week i was talking to budget secretary andaya to inquire about government spending. he said, i remember very vividly, spending grew by seven percent in july and by 14 percent in january-july (that's how i am 'addicted' to my stories sometimes that they appear in my subconscious).
today, the numbers were out and actual spending rose by 14 percent in july and by seven percent in the first seven months. These were the numbers that appeared in my dreams except that the double digit was for the month of july! Now, if only dreams can be headlined, i would have made a scoop. but, who knows, what else may appear in my head while i'm in slumberland?

the 'sonic' experience

if it's meant to happen, it will happen. there was i on a weekend junket in cebu when after checking into the hotel, guess who would pop into the door? the sonicflood! guess again, the US-based christian music band was to hold a concert that night right in the hotel!
i grabbed a companion and asked him to take a picture of me with the group. i perked up and courageously introduced myself to the group and told them of my wish for a photo opp, to which they warmly acceded.
that night, i was among the thousands of cebuanos cheering on the band and joining in the worship concert. i had called up a brother based in cebu to ask him to join me in the concert but was he was on a more pressing matter.
so there i was, alone, though not quite - i don't do concerts all by myself, the feeling is so great that one must have someone to share it wtih. but i did enjoy it! i was trying to temper myself, just tapping my hands gently against my lap and occasionally raising my hands and clapping them.
towards the last quarter of the concert, i couldn't contain myself anymore and keep the desire to sing and dance out loud for God. He was so alive in the singing that night, so i rose up and gyrated, shouted, raised my hands in abandon in praise of my Great God! i didn't care what was happening around me because they've been dancing and raising their hands long before i did. wildly, i opened myself to the Lord and it was the best praise i ever had in months!
o, what the Lord can do that one couldn't anticipate. everyone is asked to be a worship leader and i remember rick, the vocalist of the group, saying halfway through the concert that we praise and worship God by our lives.

the next level

i began working today as full-time stringer of bloomberg. thankfully, i was without jitters because i have suited myself to the job. kler told me i have credits to the story that i stringed today. i joined a dinner with tony jordan, the head of the singapore regional bureau, and the rest of the manila bureau staff later in the day. the guy was warmer with me than my last encounter with him. and he sort of officially welcomed me to the company, with which i have been in nearly two years already.
thankfully again, i don't have to make much adjustments and i have pretty much avoided to swell my head over this development in my career, if there's such a thing.
although, i think, i should be excited still because this is all new to me. i don't think of this as a major change although i heard tony say in our muted conversations that i have indeed changed jobs and that in between i should have taken a break (i did last week, but that may not be enough).
i don't know how long will i stay this way. my critics (yes, virginia, they exist even for such a lowly creature as me)don't trust my capabilities for this kind of job although i do and that is enough for me. i'm not a know-it-all, but heck, i just have to deliver what is expected of me and that has to suffice for now. i live one day at a time.

hopeless

quite a disturbing news story i read today: a 25-year old japanese youth killing seven persons in a fit of anger and hopelessness at a teen alley in tokyo.
the afp story said the young man drove his van and mowed people along the way, then stopped and lunged his knife at everyone at random. Besides the seven dead, the mindless attack wounded 17.
The man said he was deranged and in his blogs described himself as without a "single friend" and "ugly."
jobless, he wrote a "man with hope could never understand" what he did. "i'm lower than thrash because at least the thrash gets recycled," he said.
oh, what a poor soul, what a very low self-esteem, what a pitiful end! Mother Teresa said it's not material things that the world is lacking of, but love. if the young had known love, he would not have done what he did. he was such in an unfortunate society that was materially blest but emotionally and psychologically poor.
i wonder how many people like him are there in the world and what society can do to love them?

up the ante

i just made a big decision today: i'm leaving malaya for bloomberg, to work there as full-time stringer. i have hesitations, fears and doubts. i told myself i wasn't ready. but the job is really meant for me. first, coco (manila bureau chief) acceded to my salary request. second, he told me i was priority for the job; if i decline it, it will be offered to someone else. the end of my career with them.
so i had to grab it. anyway, i can always go back to newspaper writing if i want to (although historically, i don't really go back to where i come from.) may the Lord help me.

Public enemy No.1

here's from my mailbox from "zion heavan"
(i don't care who this is, i have an axe to grind against this mammoth of a user.)


MASTER muzzler. Double talker.

We couldn't help but use these words to describe the Lopez family which runs Meralco for its refusal to grant media coverage of the company's stockholders' meeting on Tuesday, May 27--because we couldn't see any valid reason why they did it.

Because precisely they are the Lopezes, how could they refuse coverage of a great public event, we want to ask. Do they have anything to hide?

Or indeed, there must have been truth to what GSIS President Winston Garcia has been saying all along—-that they have been hiding so many things to the public.

So many things, and not exactly as noble as the Lopezes of great old times had wished and done for this company, among them the paper trail of the present management's magnum opus to put the burden of paying more than P400 million in their own electric consumption a year to the poor, unsuspecting millions of customers.

It's time to know the truth, time to winnow facts from fiction, but the Lopezes would prefer to deny the public of that right, reminiscent of the Spanish friars who had deprived the indios of a good education because the gift of wisdom would cause a great social storm.

By our reckoning, Garcia's series of expose on Meralco are so revolting, it only means that Lopezes had squeezed the public dry to keep them and their minions oiled.

If these are not all true, why are they afraid of a public scrutiny?

We couldn't understand why this Lopez family who emerged triumphant fighting long and hard the Marcos dictatorship would be so afraid of an hour or two of a boardroom battle.

The Lopezes¸ for the longest time the owners and managers of Meralco and the giant network ABS-CBN, should be the last family standing while promoting and protecting public interest.

We couldn't understand why this family who raised all the books on free speech through those dark years would now deprive the public they ought to serve of the same freedom to know the truth about Meralco's "system loss" charges, to "generation charges, transmission charges, metering charges, universal charges—-to name a few.

Along with the ABS-CBN employees, the Lopezes have raised hell many times--the last one was when the AFP and the police denied their reporters and cameramen free access to the Manila Peninsula siege--when their right to information was threatened.

Another sister company, ANC, always takes pride in its non-stop coverage of public hearings at the House and the Senate involving every possible scandal in the government.

In fact, the Lopezes claim that the campaign to lower electricity rates by demanding a change in management of Meralco is a result of the critical reporting by ABS-CBN, ANC, and their radio network, dzMM of what has been happening to the government.

Talk is cheap, if untrue.

Is this why Lopez management has flatly rejected a request from ABS-CBN's rival GMA 7television network to cover the stockholders' meeting live?

Indeed, it's a different story, if you are the one getting the prick of the syringe? Freedom of speech for thee, but not for you and me--the public as stockholders and consumers with as much stake in this public utility?

Didn't the people of the Lopez's TV and radio stations throw everything, including the kitchen sink, to this rival TV station which, they said, gave an inaccurate story about their own ratings? And they did so at a great inconvenience to the public they ought to serve?

Or perhaps, that is precisely the whole point of the refusal of a media coverage of the Meralco stockholders' meeting: It is not the interest of the public that is at stake here, it is the interest of the Lopezes. Nothing more, nothing less. Hindi tayo kapamilya, kaya hindi tayo kasama?

And who belongs to this family? Not those who have been robbed of hard earned money to pay high electricity rates to allow the Lopezes to live it up.

Not the Meralco employees/shareholders who were asked to sign or resign if they wouldn't allow the Lopezes to get all the proxy votes for the May 27 stockholders' meeting? What a way to stay in power!

How do the Lopezes indeed define public interest then? Doesn't this one of Meralco's most of its controversial stockholders meetings fall under public interest? And hence requires vigorous reporting?

Media coverage, the Lopezes used to say, is the best protection against oppressors, if that is how they prefer to call their critics, but how come the Lopezes are not using a great public tool that protected them during the Marcos years, that protected the great mass of people against military power called Edsa Revolution that paved the way for them to reclaim the country's biggest electricity distribution firm?

Times have changed--and how! It only exposed the Lopezes own folly that the things they did then and now was for their own good, never for the public, even if the Lopezes have managed to confuse the two different interests at their convenience. Again, master muzzler, double talker.

disaster zone

at around 7pm on May 17, my niece from pangasinan texted me how bad the winds were. winds spawned by typhoon “cosme,” which slammed into the northwestern part of the province going northeast.
i called her up and i could hear from the other end of the line the howling winds that were sending everyone in the house in fear. when i wasn't on the phone, i was texting them to give a semblance of my presence and assure them everything would be okay.
but i was dead worried. i was in baguio country club, high and dry. the pine trees were in panic from the similarly driving wind and rain, but i was perfectly all right.
i separated from the rest of the reporters when we reached the lowlands in rosario, la union the next morning. fallen trees were all around. the gas station where we had a stopover going up to baguio two days ago was in shambles, and so the cozy diner that now seemed bombed out.
going into my hometown, there was the same litter of dead trees, old and new. the landscape has been stripped clean. things were not different in our neighborhood. oh, the trees that used to provide me shade while waiting for a jeepney were not there anymore. some houses had no roof on them. my cousins told me horror stories of not knowing what to do during those five hours the typhoon pounded them
and now before me was a faded land. i could see the bare sky. i had to wade in ankle-deep water. it was just a night of rain.
i was thankful everyone in the house was safe. my niece and i were praying together at the height of the typhoon. my mother told me it was prayer that gave her comfort during the seemingly endless ordeal.
we never get a signal no. 3 typhoon in May. we have seven months still up ahead and the strongest typhoons normally happen at the latter part of the year.
without the trees, it would be hot. God forbids another typhoon of similar strength battering this part of the province. electricity won't nornalize until probably after a couple of months.
if this is not the effect of global warming, i must be in a war zone.

tropical fish

two typhoons are in the philippine area of responsibility as i write this, and i'm here attending a weekend seminar for central bank reporters in baguio city, more than 5,000 feet above sea level. when it's raining and when it's cold and foggy, it's not a good time to be up here. and it's still the month of may it should be summer but the weather has truly become unpredictable.
last weekend, i was under the hot sun in boracay. i wish today i was there. oh, how i wish to be embraced by the sun.
back in manila, the sun is up all day, the weather hot and humid. suddenly, i'm caught up in a sea of mist, it feels surreal.

dubai

i helped send off my younger brother this afternoon at the airport for dubai. it's his first time to go out of the country and he's out to find his luck in this new land of opportunity for filipinos today. on the way to the airport, it's really easy to make a decision to leave this country. i felt like i wanted to go out myself, pinned as i were in heavy midday traffic at roxas blvd turning left to naia.
on the flyover that brings you up to the airport terminal, i saw a big billboard listing the names of multinational companies that have set up shop in the country. the government was drumbeating their decision to locate here. i looked out the cab window and saw candy and other food wrappings strewn on the pavement. ah, relief for those leaving the country.
anyway, i caught up with my brother before entering the airport. he went in and was told off to move to the other terminal. he was to take a PAL flight to hongkong and transfer to a sri lankan plane to colombo thence to dubai. oh, my poor brother, what a circuitous flight! he's in a rush to meet up with his hotel employer in dubai who would arrange for his work visa (he's on a visit visa).
we rushed to bring him to the centennial airport and this monster of a taxi driver, who abounds in this country for reason i don't know, charged me 100 for a 50-peso fare. and he thought it was all right! hah.
going back to my brother. he really had a hard time looking for a job here. maybe for lack of education, motivation or simply opportunity.
i wish my brother the best there. may the Lord protect him and give him success.
His girlfriend was there at the airport for the send-off and she watched him all the way to the check-in counter.
another brother of mine is in kuwait right now. another one had worked in saudi and is now back home.
when i go out of the country, i do so for coverage and in part pleasure. but these my brothers go out for work. and still i get more here than what they get there.
when they say one in every five filipinos is working abroad, i can understand. if only any of the companies at the billboard could provide job for my brothers.

pain in the neck

a fellow reporter really pissed me off today. this woman, whose only talent it seems is to jeer at people, ribbed me for a news story she got and i didn't. in short, in her estimation she had a scoop.
she was so loud she called out "bobo" and "tanga" directing it at no one in particular although obviously she was aiming at me for besides her two companions, i was the only other person in the press room.
i held my anger and left the room in haste. but outside i was brewing with anger. one more word from her, i told myself, and she'll get it. she wants a fight i'll give it to her.
in her unhappiness, this woman wants everybody else miserable. she's made enemies of every reporter at the central bank. i've brushed off her many attempts to pick up a fight with me but this day i was in no mood for her tantrums and i was ready to send her home in tears.
good for her, she was soon gone and out of my sight. but until now, i'm still cooling myself. she has no respect for other people, she'll not get it from me.
i'm really not good at handling anger. i'm patient but once filled, i flare up and it's really bad!
tomorrow i guess will be different. i don't take anger to bed. which is good.